A/N: This was written as a birthday present for the lovely Eisschirchmen, based on her gorgeous Waldgeist AU. If you don't know what it is, you can go to her tumblr blog and click the link for everything in the tag. Or go and ask her, she's very proud of this AU, as she should be, and likes to talk about it!

Enjoy!

It is his touch that makes her fall in love with him, although it is not her he is touching when it happens.

She is on her way to meet him in their glade, but she stops short when she spots him, crouching by a sapling. Silently, she steps closer so she may see and hear him better.

Soul cups the sapling's leaves tenderly in his hands, and whispers the words of spirits—words he has heard her say hundreds of times over in a tongue he does not understand. His pronunciation is a little off, but his soft touch more than makes up for it, she knows.

And in a sudden moment of clarity, when he smiles softly at the sapling as their leaves uncurl before him, she realizes that she loves him. And it renders her dumbstruck for a long moment.

To some degree, she is used to the forest—and her by extension—being treated with reverence and respect. But she knows moral people do that out of a mix of fear and necessity. They fear the forest so they treat it with care, in the hopes it will let them pass through unscathed. They honour her, and other spirits, so that she will bless their crops and allow a bountiful harvest, as if she could control such a thing.

However, Soul is not like that. His tenderness comes from true admiration and love. And in that same moment of clarity, she knows he loves her too, though he may not know it yet.

She rustles the grass with her feet to let him know she is there (he threatens to put a bell on her when he jumps), and she beams at him, laughing.

Yes, she loves him, but she will wait, and let him figure his feelings out for himself.

When he recognizes his feelings, she is waiting for him. She reads him easily, she can hear his soul after all, and calms him by telling him she wants to dance. The normality makes him smile, and her in return.

The brush of his hand against her arm as they move through the trees, laughing and twirling, sends a thrill down her spine and through her limbs. Her soul hums contentedly as her Soul does.

They get caught in a downpour she had anticipated, and they take shelter under a large, old oak, panting after their dance. She feels his gaze on her and meets his eyes without any hesitation.

Her heartbeat quickens when he steps closer and reaches for her face. His fingers tickle a little as he brushes her wet bangs from her forehead, and then trails his fingers lightly down her cheek, touch feather light. She is struck by the way his wet hair is plastered to his face.

She leans into his touch, nuzzling his hand—his callouses feel nice on her skin—and keeps her gaze trained on his. When his breath hitches, she hears, and she revels in his widening pupils.

"Maka," he breathes, and he need not say anything else.

With a hand on his shoulder, she rises onto her toes and presses her lips to his for a moment. He quickly returns the gesture.

They wait out the rain by sharing kisses and embracing. His fingers dig into her hips when she tastes his tongue and the heat of his breath, but it does not hurt. It excites her but she does nothing more than kiss him.

When the pattering of the rain on the leaves stops, the tension between them is taunt, but he reluctantly goes back to his village, for he has duties he must attend to.

She sends him with a kiss and promise to wait for him.

Within a moon, the tension between them snaps, though the resulting act of physical love is by no means as savage or feral as the love making of the beasts.

His hands shake as he skims her skin, spread out on the furs he had gifted her over the years in the cave she hibernates in. The fire they had eaten before is dying, and it casts shadows across his angular face. Her man is extremely handsome, especially when he cries out her name, unravels, and spills himself inside her.

As they doze, bodies sweaty and spent, he traces the tattoos on her back as she lies on her stomach. His touch is soft and she lets the shivers travel down her spine. She watches the passion reignite in his eyes as he strokes her body and she encourages him with hungry touches.

In the aftermath of their second union, as he pulls her against his damp chest, he whispers to her.

"Forever," he promises. "I will love you forever."

"You can't take back things you say to the forest," she warns. "We will be bound together for all of our lives, and the next ones, if you mean it."

"I do," he says, and he kisses her.

While he sleeps, head pillowed on her bosom and arms around her waist, she tries to think of his new title in his language. While 'husband' is accurate, it does not fully convey the true meaning of their bond in the eyes of the forest and spirits. Their souls are bound, she can feel it in the dull throb her soul makes, not unlike the one his induces in her heart and loins.

Now, she will wish for no touch other than his, no man other than him, no home other than where he is. His white locks are soft in her hands as she strokes his head before falling into dreams with him.

When he awakens with the morning light, bleary eyed and content, she calls him 'soulmate' in a murmur against his lips. It is something she spent a long time thinking of, having awoken with the forest long before dawn, and he beams widely, kissing her soundly. He whispers the word back to her like it were the name of the Higher One.

She delights as much in his happiness with his new name, as she does with his next round of love making. She will never tire of his touch.