I rolled onto my side, looking up at Soul. He kissed my nose, already noticeably awake. I wondered how long until I'd get used to his company again. Four years was a long time apart, and I barely thought about how stupid I am to welcome him, the man who left me for what seemed like forever, back with such wide open arms.
He grabbed the remote and turned on the TV to some random show. Sports, I think, but I was too relaxed and comfy to pay good attention.
Plus, my attention was much more focused on Soul, who casually sitting on the bed was watching TV with, quite literally, the sexiest everything going on, acting like he didn't have a care in the world.
And here I was, lying down next to him, probably looking ugly as fuck.
He turned too look at me, as though he sensed me staring at him. He smiled, big and wide for me to see and love. I beamed back, and he leaned down to kiss me, long and sweet and loving.
"I'm in love with you."
"I'm in love with you, too."
And he pulled me into his lap, smiling deviously into our new kiss. I tangled my hands in his hair.
He was slow and gentle and soft and careful, as though he had all the time in the world, which was both true and not. He did have all the time in the world.
His hands roamed my body, and landed firmly on my hips, pulling me closer to him, as though it were even possible.
He kissed down my neck, reaching up my his shirt and slipping a finger under the hem of my underwear. He seemed almost hesitant, like he had forgotten how to do it, when he pulled the shirt off.
Cold hit me like a bear claw, and I shivered, but was quickly enveloped in his arms, his warmth. He held me off him as he moved so he was lying down instead of sitting, and then resumed letting me lie on his chest. I loved the feel of it; his bare chest pressed against my own. It gave me a sense of comfort, a sense of home. And home was something I hadn't felt for a very, very long time.
As we continued kissing, I shifted so I was straddling his hips, but still practically lying on him. He didn't seem to care, though. He just stroked the back of my thighs, coming up to squeeze my bum every once in a while.
He kissed down my jaw and neck to the muscle behind my collarbone, where he began to bite and suck on, like he was trying to give me a hickey. I kissed and nibbled his ear in response, sucking in a quick breath when his hips bucked against mine.
I began grinding against him, my mind clouded with lust and desire. He groaned, burying his face in my neck. I loved having this much control over him.
But he didn't.
When his mind cleared to the tiniest degree, he rolled us over, kissing all over my face.
He tugged at my underwear. "Off," He commanded in one of the sexiest tones ever. It was no question I fell in love with Soul. He was powerful and seducing and knew exactly what to do no matter the situation. He isn't evil. He doesn't kill for no reason. I am not in love with evil. I am in love with Soul. The two are very different things.
And darkness was mumbling sweet nothings in my ear as he took off his own underwear. (Okay, so maybe he is evil. But only in bed!)
There was no foreplay, no delay, this time. He thrust up into me and I let out a slightly strangled gasp, quickly adjusting to him. Then, in a slow but passionate fury of moans and grunts and bed rocking, his climax came and led me into my own.
"Maka," He said when our breathing was regulated again, "Say my name. I haven't heard you say it in years."
"Soul." I breathed. I didn't know why he was being so weird about this. Shit happened, we got in a fight. Blair got in the way. And then Kid, and then Black Star. He could've come back any time. I didn't run to him because he started the fight, but I guess I should've at least tried to meet him halfway. But at the moment, I didn't care anymore. He came back home last night, back to me, and I was happy enough with that.
"Again,"
"Soul." I pecked his lips softly. Then a realization hit me: he heard it plenty when we fought and plenty when he called two weeks ago to apologize (and I was a bitch and started yelling again). "I know you don't want me to say it because you haven't heard me say it in a long time, so why do you want me to?" I asked softly.
"Because I want to remember what it's like to have you say with love in your voice instead of hate; I want to feel that again." He said after a long minute of hesitation. I didn't understand what saying a name had to do with love, but I responded anyway.
"I've always loved you. You were the one who made me love you in the first place. But you were also the one who slept with Blair, in our apartment. But I was the one who didn't listen to you explain and launched into total bitch mode."
"You were." He agreed.
I gasped, "What?! You're not supposed to agree with me! Ugh, I hate you." I let the playful tone in my voice be evident, but I rolled away from him to make it look serious."
"Makaaa," He whined as he rolled back toward me. "Maka nooo…" Soon he was on top of me, almost crushing me under his weight.
He didn't get off until I apologized, and only then he just smirked and relieved me of possibly just ten pounds of his weight. The rest still pinned me down as he started enveloping me with kisses.
"Say my name," He whispered when the playfulness was gone and the moment turned loving and steamy again.
"I love you," I mumbled instead, my mind fogged.
"Say it," He growled quietly, biting my ear lobe and making me gasp.
"Soul!"
"Again," He ordered.
"Soul…" I whispered.
"I love you so much," He murmured.
"I love you too," I responded.