This is the result of when my laptop breaks, and leaves me to finish steamy stories at the desktop computer, which is oh-so-conveniently placed at the head of our dining room table, so EVERYONE reads it aloud while I type. O.e

Yeah, so, sorry it's… I don't know how to even define this spew-type, word-vomit of a story. ;u;

~O-O-O-O~

Her genes should really go burn in Hell, and leave Maka the fuck alone for the evening.

Two months. Two. Entire. Months.

She didn't stand a chance, really.

Maka groaned to herself as her head made contact with a wall behind her, a dull 'thump' to attempt reigning in her raging hormones and calming down. Really. She was a big girl, and being upset over something so… not-dire… shouldn't be an issue to someone's who's looked death directly in the eyes.

But she can't help it. Her Papa's the one to blame for all this. That man-slut, with his cheating ways and charming looks… uhhhhg. It's just not fair, not for someone who's so pure, perfect and poised to have something so trivial bother her this way.

Her mumbles, moans of frustration and head-hitting must have finally become loud enough for Soul, because before she knows, he's standing in her doorway, his face thoroughly confused. Maka frowns up at him, almost pouting with her bottom lip stuck out like that, before burying her face into her folded arms atop her knees.

"What's got your panties in a twist?" Her weapon asks, walking over to plop down on her bed, where she sits as she huffs. When he makes the mattress sink and whine due to his added weight, she shimmies back, away. Don't touch me, don't touch me, please don't freaking touch—

Warm fingers brush through her teased bangs, trying to lift her head up so she'll just look at him for a second. When her emerald eyes peek over her forearms, Soul gives her a small, almost-worried smile as his thumb pets soft golden hair.

"What's wrong, precious girl?" His tone of voice changes towards her to be lighter and more careful. "Don't feel good?"

She could just tell him what's wrong with her; the fact she's unnaturally horny and needs him more than ever to fix the sensation of scalding between her legs. But that would be embarrassing, and rub right against her belief that she doesn't need any man to help her with anything, which somehow has managed to carry over and apply to her boyfriend, too. So, she nods at his inquiry and hides her face back in her folded arms.

Welcome back to Square One, Miss Albarn.

"Can I get you anything?"

You could stop talking and take off your—

No! She needs to focus, she can't tell him that! Soul will never let her live something of that nature down, seeing as her father is the town gigolo, and it would only make her a known nymphomaniac if she ever admitted to her need.

"Maka?" Soul tries again, nudging her cheek gently with his thumb. "Talk to me, Maka."

Slowly, her head comes out of her arms. Her face is red enough to stop traffic, and she glowers at her scythe when he bites his lip to hold back a smile and a chortle. Embarrassment and denied-sexual-frustration makes a coil of heat in her lower stomach, makes her sigh shakily.

"Tell me what's wrong," velvet voice pleads, that devil's lips curling up into a smile; Maka can't tell what type of smile to save her life, but it's certainly not a pure one. When his hand comes down to her neck and lets his calloused thumb stroke along her jugular, she breathes forcefully out of her nose, and crawls closer to him. Mile-long legs come to straddle his own muscular ones, and his smile grows into a cat-like smirk when she steals his lips in a kiss. It's a short lived one, to say the least, with all the tongue and teeth she's using, but her message comes through clear as a bell, and it commences a familiar heat between his thighs.

"Two. Months." She growls against the soft flesh of his throat, her satin lips waking goose bumps there. With a swipe of tongue, she attempts to lick them away, but only causes a gruff moan and thousands more to cover the area. "That's not fair."

Maka glares when she feels Soul quivering in soft bouts of laughter, and she allows her hips to buck against the inception of his arousal. Laughter dissolves into a groan, his hips arching instantly against her panty-covered sex and skilled hands reaching to hold and caress the globes of her ass. Her voice against the hollow of his neck feels divine, as does the gyrating ministrations she allows with her slender hips.

"Please," the whimpering female breathes against his ear, trailing kisses up and down the length of his neck. Soul feels himself smirking subconsciously when he feels the heat her cheeks are emitting on his skin. He lets his hands give her backside a good squeeze before letting them run up her sides and begin undoing her already-loose tie.

"You never need to ask for that, love."

It only takes Soul mere seconds to drop her tie to the floor, and unbutton her shirt completely in order to strangle her nude-colored bra off (he's never been very good with that stupid contraption that cups what's rightfully his). Maka mewls as he trails wet, open-mouthed kisses down from her throat to her chest, kissing, groping and nipping at the warm, velvet flesh of her breasts. Her hands shakily fight to undo his own button down shirt, sliding it off his shoulders and allowing her hands the pleasure of running along toned muscles. Her hips grind down rougher over his strained erection, and Soul grunts out a curse between her breasts, his warm puffs of breath strangely sensual.

"Soul…" She mewls, her head thrown back in order to press her hips forcefully downward in a full-body movement. The feeling of his fly against her covered folds is heavenly, for the moment, but she begs for more. Shy fingers dance along his neck, to tangle up in snow-white locks and tug. The pain prickling in his scalp makes him gasp desperately; crimson eyes slammed shut and lips forming silent words as she tugs.

Her hands find his shoulders, to which she pushes on to make him lie back. Although she isn't exactly his match in physical strength, the hold she has over the scythe, like this, is much more. Soul falls back onto the comforter, and once her hips shift their position to rest in the air over his crotch, his hands fly to yank off her blue pleated skirt in a single fluid motion. Even though Soul has seen her naked on many, many accounts, be sexual or not, he thinks it's still fucking adorable when her cheeks heat up from his actions.

Once her skirt is dropped to the floor, her small hands shoot for his silver belt buckle, strangling the black snake that is his belt off his hips and chucking it away. Both ignore the loud noise it makes as it smashes into the wall, because both are staring at Soul's crotch. Viridian eyes shoot up to look at his face, before going back to the matter of his jeans, undoing the fly and shimmying them off toned thighs and calves before depositing them on the floor.

Soul smirks as Maka's eyes lock on his boxer-clad erection, her entire face the shade of a tomato. His sly hands move towards the hem of her white lace panties, each index finger hooking under elastic before he slowly pulls them down and off her legs, kicking them down to the floor. Her face can't get any redder, he decides with a snort, and with a nudge of his knee to her ass, Maka flops down beside him, so he can assume his place above her.

"Bastard," she hisses, though he can tell she doesn't mean it when she sticks her lower lip out in a pout as her hands greedily pull off his navy blue boxers and throw them aside. Once she finishes her task, Maka grabs a fistful of his hair, slamming their lips together in need for some type of physical interaction. Soul lets his tongue dance with hers as he presses his erection into her thigh, making Maka moan into his mouth and buck her hips.

"Please," she begs breathlessly against his lips, her plea sounding more drastic and need-filled then before. "Please, Soul!"

Arms locked at the elbow cradle her head, and Soul showers her in as many kisses as he possibly can as his hips slowly arch up into hers, his dick sliding knowingly to where it was created to belong. Maka writhes beneath him, moaning breathily as her hips jump up at the intrusion, begging for him to move again.

He obeys. He didn't stance a chance to begin with, anyway.

Soul pulls back out, almost to the tip, before pushing back up inside her warm, said sensation making him groan and bury his nose into the nook of her neck. Small hands come to clamp in his hair, yanking for some means to keep her from letting go so soon. Maka's mewls and moans encourage Soul, and his picks up the pace, his dick nearly melting in the puddle of true bliss that is her inner, molten walls. The way her insides twitch with his every thrust and her hips arch with every recoil could make him explode alone.

But he stares at her, through squints of crimson, as he groans into her neck and calls out her name lustfully. She encourages the little kisses, licks and nips he leaves on her throat with tugs to his silver hair, and clawing motions at his shoulders of which he's sure bleed the second her nails rake over him. Said action only riles him up more, increasing his tempo, making him slam into her depths relentlessly. She cries out his name in desperation, meeting each buck of his with a thrash of her own, her arousal wetting her thighs and bed linens below them.

The way pleasure sparks across her features and voice every time he arches into her makes him both glow with pride and the coil of heat in his lower stomach grower tighter and tighter. But he holds back, clenching the muscles in his legs in order to keep from being pushed into the abyss of ecstasy before Maka has the chance to.

But it only takes a few seconds, with the way her hips arch up to meet the slack of his pace as he pulls back, before ramming in again, and how she clenches her walls purely by accident before the tidal wave of pleasure comes crashing over her, making her head lull back as she screams out his name as she orgasms. Her back arches like a stretching feline, which makes Soul's frenzied thrusts damn near sinful, the way he can fill her to the brim with ease in her state.

He yowls his orgasm mere seconds behind hers. His seed nearly singes her insides as he holds his forehead against her shoulder, almost painfully. When the stars that distort his vision finally wear off, he attempts to draw air into his lungs as he pulls out of her. Both parties give a distinct gasp as Soul removes himself from her, and drops down beside her, as if his bones had been liquefied during his orgasm.

Crimson eyes peer at his meister, who pants with her lips curled in a "blissful in death" type of smile. She brushes her damp bangs off to the side, before rolling slightly to look at Soul. With a display of Maka worming her way to get closer to him, he holds an arm out for her, the other pulling her against him. They fit together like puzzle pieces, the bulge of her hip fitting against his, her shoulder snugly placed under his arm.

"Feeling better?" He mutters, a hand absently twirling a small strand of blonde hair around his long fingers. Maka can't help but narrow her eyes as her face heats up again, and swats his shoulder with the back of her hand.

"If you insist on picking on your girlfriend," she growls out, "maybe she'll just find… other ways to keep herself satisfied."

Soul takes her grit-out words as a threat, and cradles her closer to his chest, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Now, let's not be too rash here, love—"

"Soul?"

He blinks, but makes a grunting sort of noise with a question mark at the end of it.

"You're pulling my hair." She attempts to wriggle away, her face twisted in a grimace and Soul does, indeed, notice his arm his pinning part of her hair down to the pillow. He lifts said arm, offering a tiny smile in apology before shrugging and curling up against her once more, his mouth resting at her ear while he speaks.

"You don't seem to mind pulling MINE when—"

Soul finds himself shoved out from her bed and onto the floor, pain biting at the back of his head that hit her carpet and his stark ass. He opens his mouth to fire something nasty at her, but when her small hand pokes out from her covers, making a "don't you dare" type of finger at him, he finds himself only snickering at her and patting her head as he gets up from the floor and pretends to gather his clothes quietly while she dozes off.

Maka dully realizes, as sleep pulls her into its grasp, that Soul has found his way into her bed, curling up against her with gentle snores making her hair ruffle slightly when he breathes out. She smiles, noticing how he didn't make fun of her, nor insult her for such physical needs.

She nuzzles into her pillow, the thought of how she can repay him dancing in the back of her mind as she finally falls asleep beside him.