A/N: This is the chapter where the smut happens, be warned.

After being roused at the crack of dawn, some food had been shovelled into his mouth and then he had been led into the dressing room previously used by the Prince Father. The quarters were to become his own once he returned from his honeymoon, and had as such been vacated during the week. (The Prince Father, it turned out, had far more clothes than had been previously thought possible.)

Then he had been stuffed into the wedding clothes that had been picked out and decorated in royal finery. When he had been turned to view himself in the mirror, he was stunned.

Could the young man standing in the looking glass really be him? He looked tall and strong, in red and black, the colour of his family's crest. Somehow his hair had been brushed back and tamed into sitting neatly on his head, with a small circle of gold placed upon his crown to signify his status, though it would be replaced with a proper crown once further ceremonies had taken place.

For a brief moment, he thought he looked rather handsome. He wondered if that was how Maka saw him, tall and commanding. He rather doubted it.

"Oh, my dearest son!" his mother cried from the doorway as she pushed her way in. "Oh, how well you look! I can't believe it, you look so regal!"

Soul turned from the mirror just in time for his mother to embrace him. He thought he heard one of the tailors make a strangled cry of distress but dismissed it as he took some comfort from his mother's embrace.

She pulled back and retrieved a handkerchief to dab at her eyes dramatically, and it made Soul smile.

"Oh goodness, it's your wedding day, I am wholly unprepared," she said sniffling.

"It was bound to happen eventually," Soul said and laughed as his mother pouted.

"That doesn't mean I'd ever be ready for it. You're still my baby." She huffed, and then turned to the tailors. "Would you give us a few minutes please."

The tailors glanced at each other, before looking Soul up and down to check for any issues, before reluctantly leaving the room.

Once the door was shut, Constance dabbed her eyes once more, and then tucked her handkerchief away. She took a deep breath and brushed her hair back, and Soul was struck by the quick transformation his mother had taken from silly and overbearing, to serious and commanding.

"Now, my dear Soul, it is your wedding day, and no matter how much it pains me to see you go and make your own house, I must." She took his hands in hers and stared into his eyes. "I know this is, and will be, difficult for you. Marriage is difficult, especially one such as yours, with such as short betrothal period. But you have one advantage few will ever have."

She took a step forward and moved one of her hands to cup his face gently. "You, my sweetest child, have a love match. And while it hurts my heart to let you go, I am so happy that it is like this. Your fate is a road less travelled to be sure, but it is a happy one." She sniffled again and beamed. "I wish you nothing but joy."

Soul could not help but splutter. "I—what—Mother, why—I mean—"

His mother hushed him and her eyes twinkled. "There is no need to be embarrassed or try to hide it, Solomon. Everyone with working eyes can see how much affection you and the Queen hold for each other." Her voice became a whisper, "Never be afraid that you are alone. Your bride loves you as much as you love her. Even the Gods above would not dare to split you two apart."

Happiness welled up in his heart unexpectedly, and he smiled bashfully. "Mother," he said softly.

She pulled his head forward and kissed his forehead. Then she pulled back and gave him a watery beam. "Now, let us away to the Cathedral. We mustn't be late!"

And once the tailors had come back in and straightened out any creases his mother might have caused, they did.

The Cathedral was large and ornate, with various stations around for various gods, though there was the main altar that both for the Lord of Gods, and for all gods in general.

Soul stood in a side room, with Wes at his side, and tried not to let his hands shake as he waited for his musical cue that would signal for him to start his procession into the main church to meet his bride and future.

Wes clapped him on the shoulder and said, "You'll be fine Soul. You've practised the vows and speeches so many times, you could probably recite them in your sleep. Relax. This is supposed to be one of your happiest days."

Unsurprisingly, his words were not all that helpful.

The waiting, Soul finally decided, was the worst part. As scared and despairing as he had been the night before, it did not compare to the nerves that threatened to knock his knees together. What if Maka decided not to go through with it? What if his mother and brother had been wrong, and she loved someone else and decided to elope, what if—"

"Son."

His thoughts were interrupted, and his nearly suffered whiplash turning towards his father closing the door after him as he entered the side room.

"Father," he said quietly.

Bartholomew Evans took three steps towards his son so he was standing in front of him, and grasped his shoulders. After taking a deep breath, he said, "Soul, your mother often tells me I am a man of few words, too few, and I think now is a good a time as any to try and turn over a new leaf. I want you to know that I am very proud of you, and that I love you. I always have been and always will be."

And for the first time in what Soul could safely say was at least a decade, his father beamed at him.

"I wish you joy," his father concluded, and then with one last meaningful look, and a squeeze of his shoulders, he left the room to go back to his seat.

Soul blinked for several long moments before blurting, "Did I just have a nerves induced hallucination?"

Wes laughed. "If only. I think we just witnessed something rather miraculous."

Soul was about to say something sarcastic back, when music started playing and he jumped. He felt his stomach fall into his shoes, but before he could do something awful, like throw up, Wes grabbed his shoulders and squeezed.

"Breathe, little brother, breathe."

Soul did so, and under his breathe counted, "Three, four, five, six!" and then watched as Wes left through the door first, before continuing to count, "Seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve." And then with one last dry swallow, he too left the room.

Red carpet stretched down from the hall the door was in, then out into the main church to the main altar. As he entered the main church, he looked across it to an identical hall down which Maka would be coming.

And he nearly stopped short. Only muscle memory ingrained by several tedious practices saved him from making a fool of himself as he was struck by how beautiful she looked.

Her wedding dress was elegant and coloured in the rich gold and greens of her family crest. The bodice of the dress was tight around her torso, but had flaring sleeves that went to her elbows, and a billowing skirt that trailed behind her. Her hair looked rather simple in comparison, but that merely made way for the crown she adorned.

As their eyes met, Soul felt warmth bloom in his chest that could only be her happiness passing through the link that had grown so strong between them. He had not seen her for a few days (the reason he had turned to Wes in his moment of desperation the night before) and he had not fully realized how much he had missed her.

And, when they met in the middle and joined hands to turn to the officiator, he felt a pulse jolt his body as skin met skin, for neither wore gloves. She met his glance with one of her own and smiled, squeezing his hand in hers before interlocking their fingers.

The officiator, a small man with a rather large nose and a tall hat, began the ceremony with a long speech about the foolishness of entering into marriage without the intention of remaining true, and without putting one's full heart into it.

Soul zoned out a little as the officiator droned about fools this and fools that, focusing more on the feeling of Maka's hand in his, and how her thumb rubbed circles into the back of his hand.

He was jolted from his dreamings by the officiator's question to the congregation as to anyone having any objections to the marriage that was to commence. When no one spoke up, the ceremony began for real.

The officiator read out the rules of marriage to them. "You must, both of you, be true to one another. Be kind to one another. To trust one another, support one another, treat one another with dignity and affection, be the other's pillar in times of distress and anguish as well as in times of joy and prosperity. Do you solemnly swear to abide by these rules, as they were given unto us by the holy Lord of Gods at the beginning of time?"

Soul looked from the officiator to Maka, and said in time with her, "We do."

"Then may the Lord and Lady of Honour bring forth the bindings, so that your hands, hearts, spirits, and fates may be forever bound to each other."

Wes stepped forward then, holding a white cloth embroidered with the Evans family crest, as a blonde woman—Maka's godmother, a woman called Marie—brought forward a similar white cloth embroidered with royal crest.

The officiator took them, and as he knotted them together he said, "As these clothes are now entwined, so are your families." He pulled on both clothes to demonstrate the strength of the knot and continued, "And like this binding, your union must be steadfast and eternal, for you will now be bound until the day you both perish, and then, even further on as you meet with the Gods Above in whatever life they give us after this one. Now, give me your hands."

As one, they held up their hands, still interlocked. The officiator wrapped the knotted clothes around their hands and said solemnly, "As your hands are now bound, so are your hearts in the eyes of man. As your hands are now bound, so are your spirits in the eyes of the Gods. As your hands are now bound, so are your fates in the eyes of the eternal light, and all that is good and just."

Once their hands were tied together, the officiator turned back to the altar to pick up a goblet, and then turned back round to present it to them. "Drink this as one," he said, holding the goblet up high so all could see it. "Drink for your future health and prosperity. Drink to prove that you can commune as one before this congregation."

He handed them the goblet and they took it, having practiced holding it with only one free hand each. Soul held the cup and Maka held up the base. With the hands that were tied together, they helped balance the goblet. First Maka drank from it, then Soul did, allowing the sweet holy wine to wet his dry throat.

The officiator took the goblet back and set it down. When he turned back to them, he held up their bound hands and said, "With these witnesses before you and in the eyes of the Gods, you have entered into the holy sanctity of marriage. Though this cloth may be untied, the bond formed between you will never be, for it as permanent as the sun and moon in the sky, and as beautiful."

He untied the cloth around their hands and took a step back. "You may now seal your union with a kiss before your consummation cements your union in the eyes of the law."

Soul took a small step closer to Maka, as she took a step closer to him. This was the part they have never practised, would not have been allowed to even if they had wanted to. Soul lifted his free hand to cup her cheek, and stroked her face with his thumb, getting lost in her deep emerald eyes.

Maka put a hand on his shoulder, and took the lead, leaning up to pressed her lips against his firmly.

An incredible surge of…something passed through him, followed by the strangest feeling of serenity as her lips touched his. However, this serenity was quickly chased away by an overwhelming lust as Maka pulled away, eyes hooded and pupils blown wide open. He wanted to seal his lips back over hers, to pull her tight against him and never let go.

Something like smugness coiled in his chest and with no small amount of surprise, he realised that it was coming from Maka. The link had never been that strong, that open before.

The word resonance flickered through his mind, along with the sentiment this is how I've felt since the moment we touched and I want to kiss you again too.

However, Soul was stopped from prodding any further into the new connection between him and his wife (wife!) by the officiator calling for the congregation to rise in prayer for the new couple.

Soon vibrated from her soul to his before she began to slow the connection, letting it simmer back into what it had been before.

They both turned to the officiator and let their heads bow in prayer, though Soul did not feel very holy, what with the thoughts running through his head.

All he could think about was the wedding night, and how interesting it seemed now that he had reached this connection with Maka. Very interesting.

After the ceremony (which went on for another half hour due to various prayers and readings) came the wedding banquet, held in the largest hall in the palace.

There were foods from all over the kingdom (and other kingdoms), entertainers, gifts, speeches, drinks, music, and anything else Maka or his mother had asked for. But Soul did not pay attention to any of it. Instead, all he could focus on was Maka's hand in his and his desperate attempts to keep arousal from being noticeable. He only let go of her hand three times.

The first, to let her stand and give a speech to thank everyone who had attended. The second, to stand and give his own speech (on how honoured he was to be a part of the royal family, and how much he was looking forward to working with Maka to keep their realm peaceful and prosperous), and the third was when Maka stood to greet an old friend from another kingdom who had been unable to watch that actual ceremony.

The Lady Tsubaki had been apologetic but extremely happy for Maka, and though the Lady's guard, a loud man with bright blue hair, had been a little obnoxious, Maka was obviously happy, and thus so was Soul.

When Maka sat back down Soul held her hand once again, squeezing every now and then as though to check that she was actually real.

The banquet went on for many hours until the sun was starting to reach the horizon and torches were being lit to keep the celebrations going. By this time, Soul had drunk quite a lot to try and keep his throat from going dry and felt rather off balance. Maka's cheeks were flushed with drink too, though she had not drunk as much as he had.

He repeatedly contemplated leaning over and just kissing her again, but each time he resolved himself to at least trying it, he would chicken out under the gaze of the court. However, he did keep catching Maka's eyes as they glanced at each other, her eyes hooded and dark each time, making his blood burn.

Finally, finally, it was time for them to leave for their honeymoon retreat.

Soul and Maka both rose from their seats, with Soul squeezing her hand for support as his world view wobbled a little (a lot). They were led off to an awaiting carriage, with their luggage already secured on top and with various guards lined up around it.

Maka was helped into the carriage first, and the Soul clambered in, with the guests cheering behind them. Soul shuffled his way to the other side of the carriage, away from the crowd, while Maka stuck her head out the window to wave and smile serenely.

Then they were off.

The place chosen for their honeymoon was one of the more modest royal retreats, set next to a large lake in front, with a large garden that backed onto a sprawling forest in a valley north of the palace city. It had been built by Maka's great-grandmother, originally to house one of her many, many children, but in the next generation it became a retreat, only used for holidays.

As they left the palace grounds, there was even more cheering, as a crowd had gathered outside the palace gates to send them off. Maka waved and smiled to them, and though Soul had had more than enough of crowds, he managed to draw some energy from deep down (and from the alcohol he had consumed) and made himself smile and wave too.

Once they left the city however, quiet descended, with only the sound of horses and the carriage to interrupt it, which he could deal with. Soul sank back into the carriage cushions and sighed.

"Glad it's over?" Maka teased from opposite him.

He cracked a grin and chuffed. "Maybe a little. Maybe a lot."

She giggled, and the look she gave him—one of affection and desire—inspired him to move from his side of the carriage to hers, so that he could sit next to her. She grinned and took his hand, weaving her fingers between his.

"It was a nice day though, wasn't it?" she murmured, looking up at him from under her lashes.

He hummed and breathed, "Yeah, it was."

She sighed and, after chewing on her bottom lip for a moment, she lay her head on his shoulder. Adoration bloomed deep in his heart and he lay his head on top of hers. He took a deep breath, and smelled whatever it was they had put in her hair—something flowery and sweet.

He wanted to say something, but was not sure what to say. The drink still in his body took that feeling and ran with it, inspiring him to blurt, "You looked so beautiful today."

She turned her head so her eyes could meet his, and a smirk pulled at her lips. "Oh?"

He nodded and hummed again. "Like, the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

She laughed and lifted her head long enough to kiss his cheek, dangerously close to the corner of his mouth. "Thank you, Soul. You looked very beautiful today, too."

His heart thumped hard in his chest and the area she had kissed was very, very warm. "Not as beautiful as you," he said, though his attention was entirely focused on her lips, the desire, the need to feel them against his again almost overwhelming.

Without much thought, he lifted his free hand to touch her cheek, stroking the smooth skin again with his thumb, intrigued by how it hued under his touch.

She turned her head again and lifted it off his shoulder. For a moment he was worried he had done something wrong and began to pull away, but her hand captured his and kept it pressed to her cheek.

His heart stuttered and he could hardly breathe when she leaned in and kissed him, lips soft and warm, but demanding, leading him, surprisingly, in a heady dance he could barely keep up with.

She let go of his hand so she could grab his shoulders and pull him closer, and he used his now free hand to cup her other cheek as she turned her head to press her lips harder against his.

He shivered delightfully as her tongue peeked out of her mouth to briefly brush against his lips before retreating. He leaned into her and sighed, hoping she would understand his silent plea to do that again, please.

Her tongue felt so hot when it traced his lips, pushing slightly at the seam, then retreating again before doing it again, repeating the cycle, until on the third time he parted his lips for her.

Her tongue against his was strange, but also nice. It filled him with heat, and the burning desire to hold her closer. Her breath was sweet in his mouth, and her hands were now tangled in his hair.

After debating with himself for a few moments, he let go of one of her cheeks and wrapped his arm around her waist, trying to pull her towards him. Their knees knocked together though, and they broke apart with small, quiet laughter, still wrapped up in each-other's arms.

Maka bit her lip, and glanced at the carriage windows, through which they could just about make out the horses the guards with them were riding. She looked back at him, then at the carriage floor, before finally seeming to come to a decision. She shifted around a bit and hiked up the skirts of her dress to his alarm, before draping one leg over his lap and shifting closer, so she was half straddling him.

His arm tightened around her waist and she grinned at him before sealing her lips back over his.

Her body was so warm against his side, burning him through his clothes. He had wanted her closer, and now she was, but now he wanted her even closer, he wanted more skin on skin contact, he wanted to feel her heart beat against his chest, to trail his fingers all over her.

She seemed to share the sentiment, as one hand left his hair to run over his chest and, shoulder, neck, and jaw. Their kisses were becoming sloppy and desperate, and objectively he might have called all the saliva going everywhere gross but in that moment he did not really care.

Maka was pressed against him and returning every affection he gave her, and it was almost everything he wanted. In a moment of bravery, he left her cheek and put his hand where he was sure her thigh was, buried under her bunched skirts, and squeezed. She breathed heavily into and against his mouth and pulled away slightly.

"Soul," she murmured, lips brushing his as she spoke.

He swallowed. "Maka?"

She traced the contours of his face lightly with the tips of her fingers. "I really want to keep doing what we're doing," she said, and he almost laughed with giddiness. However, he heard the 'but' coming, so forced it down. "But we still have quite some time to travel. And there are people all around us."

He nodded slightly. "And we're in a carriage."

She hummed. "We should…wait, for a little while. Just until we get there."

He nodded again, and forced down a sigh. "Yeah."

She sighed and pressed her forehead against his, closing her eyes. He pulled his hand from her thigh and wrapped the arm around her waist, so he was almost embracing her. He closed his eyes too, to join her in the moment of quiet togetherness.

Though he still burned for her, the fire in his blood was slowly cooling, and he felt content to just sit in her arms. He wanted her to take the lead, did not want to rush her or make her uncomfortable. So he sat with her like that for the rest of the journey, kissing her occasionally, but only when she initiated it.

He could wait.

Though Soul could not see it through the dark, the retreat was large and finely finished. Inside there were candles lit everywhere, with the servants that came with the grand house lined up in the foyer.

At the door, a butler met them and led them up the large flight of stairs. They followed him down a corridor to a decorated door, which had two plainer doors spaced a little away on either side.

They were split apart to go through the plainer doors. Inside his room, Soul found just a pair of smooth silky trousers, a recliner, a wash basin, and two manservants to help him change clothes. There was a door to the left, which he figured would lead to the room the ornate doors had led to, which would be the master bedroom.

After being stripped of his wedding clothes, he slipped into the silken pants and shooed the servants away so he could gather his courage alone.

Through that door would be Maka. Through that door would be his wedding night and the start of the rest of his life with her.

His stomach flipped nervously and he felt his palms get damp with sweat. He thought of the carriage ride and what kissing her had felt like. She said she had wanted to continue. She wanted this.

And he wanted it too.

With one last dry swallow he opened the door and strode into a large, grandly furnished master bedroom.

Which was empty.

Where was Maka?

He thought she must still be changing, so perched himself on the edge of the bed and waited for her. As he did, he looked around the room.

There was a large fireplace, and in front of it was a settee. He rose from the bed and sat there instead, enjoying the warmth of the fire in the now chilly evening. He almost wanted to go out and ask for some more clothes, but decided against it. It was just going to be taken off again.

But time started to tick by, and he began to be worried.

Was undressing really taking so long? Or was she just not coming? Fear gripped his heart as he thought that maybe she had changed her mind, or come to her senses. Had she just been playing along earlier, giving him what she thought he wanted? Did she not want him, and was only trying to placate him?

His thoughts swirled round and round in his head, so loud and overwhelming that he almost missed the other door clicking open. He whipped his head round to see and out from the doorway stepped Maka, in a white silk dress, that had straps over her shoulders and went down to the floor.

"Hi," she said shyly and tucked some of her loose golden hair behind her ear. "Sorry, the dress very complicated. It took me hours to get into it this morning."

He swallowed and shook his head. "Don't worry about it," he said. "I understand."

She smiled affectionately and held out a hand for him. He rose from the settee and took it, and let her pull him towards her. He could feel warmth in his chest from her side of the bond, and felt himself smile.

Just to be safe however, he said, "We don't have to do anything you don't want to."

She giggled and put a hand on his shoulder as she leaned up to kiss his chastely. "I know," she breathed. Then she pulled back and watched him. "We don't have to do anything you don't want to do either."

Carried by the burning that had spread from her to him, he blurted, "I want you." Then he flushed bright red.

She laughed and leaned up to kiss him again. "I want you, too," she whispered against his mouth.

He responded to her kisses gently, even as tension started to coil in his gut. He would take her pace, and do whatever she said. She had him body and soul, he was hers completely to do with as she wished.

Their kisses started to build like they had in the carriage, until Maka was grabbing at his hair and he had his arms wrapped tightly around her waist. After one long, wet, deep kiss, they broke apart breathing heavily. They stared at each other for a long moment, before Maka started grinning, and peppering kisses all over his face.

He smiled himself as her lips brushed every inch of his face, but his heart started thumping loudly in his chest as her lips moved from his face to his jaw and neck. Her hands left his hair and began to massage his shoulders.

She kissed his Adam's apple and he gulped, heart stuttering. The light brush of her lips on his skin sent shivers down his spine, making him tingle from head to toe. He gripped her hips and sighed as her hands travelled down his chest. He felt himself grow stiff and hard between his legs as her fingers trailed over his nipples.

The silken pants did nothing to hide it, and he flushed bright red. Maka could surely see, could surely feel his arousal as she was pressed so close to him. But she said nothing as she continued to press chaste kisses to his collarbones.

She pulled away and trailed her hands back up his torso, using her right hand to trace the mark over his chest. She glanced up at him and, maintaining eye contact with him, slowly leaned over and kissed the mark.

He was burningburningburning for her, but he did nothing, only watched as she kissed all over the mark, and the top of the scar that stretched across his chest from a riding accident a few years back.

His toes curled into the floor and he felt his stomach muscles clench as her tongue began to trace his mark while she still held eye contact.

She pulled her tongue away from his skin but did not move. "Do you want to touch me?" she asked softly, tone hopeful, but all he could think of was the sensation of her breath against his damp skin. Damp from her tongue!

He managed to gather his wits enough to ask, "Do you want me to touch you?"

She finally broke their eye contact, looking down at his chest shyly for a moment as she bit her lip. Then after a moment of thought she met his eyes again fearlessly and said firmly, "Yes."

He tried to hide how eager he was, but probably failed as he ran his hands up and down her sides languidly. She squirmed in his grip and, in a move that showed him how truly impatient she was, she grabbed one of his hands and pressed it to her breast.

She sighed shakily as her hand over his made him squeeze her. "Like that," she whispered.

He bit his lip, and reached for her behind, grabbing it and pulling her towards him. She squeaked, which almost made him freak out and apologise, but then she started giggling before pulling him down for another kiss.

As he started massaging her flesh, he felt himself throb when she responded with little gasps and sighs. Her kisses were becoming desperate, sloppy and uncoordinated, though it was not like he was complaining. He loved the feeling of her hands in his hair guiding him, of her body underneath his hands, and of her wriggling against his front.

Particularly the wriggling. It created friction against his arousal, but also not enough friction. The silken fabric of their clothes was too smooth and the sweet torture was driving him insane!

Maka pulled away panting suddenly, and before he could ask what was wrong (and if he had done something wrong), she asked, "Shall we go to bed?"

His stomach flipped over and he found himself nodding even as his insides felt like they were knotting themselves up in nervousness and excitement.

She scurried out of his arms and around onto the bed, with him following, only to stop short after clambering onto the large bed and ask, "How do you want to be?"

He made a little strangled sound in the back of his throat. "Uhhh, how do you want to be?"

She whined a little, and then flushed brightly. "You've been doing what I said all night. You're allowed to have a say, too, you know!"

He snorted and felt himself blush like her. "Yeah, well, I just want you to be comfortable. I don't want to force you into doing anything you don't want to do."

"And I don't want to force you into doing anything you don't want to do," she said with a small smile.

He huffed and grinned. "Maka, I am perfectly happy to do whatever you want to do."

She looked down at her hand clutching at the bedsheets shyly, then looked up at him through her eyelashes. "Alright. If you're sure, I don't want to boss you around either."

He leaned closer to her and pecked her pink cheek. "Completely sure."

She laughed and pressed her lips to his quickly before leaning back. "OK," she said. "Lie on your back?"

The shuffling of fabric sounded so loud in the quiet as he moved so he was lying in the centre of the bed looking up at her. He felt his eyes bug out of his head as she hiked her dress up around her hips and straddled him. She smiled shyly at him as she settled on top of him, and he was overwhelmed by how warm she felt on top of him.

She pressed her hands against his chest as he put his hands on her waist, rubbing circles into her sides. Maka bit her lip, stayed still for a long moment, and then moved her hips slowly against his.

There was suddenly pressure and heat and friction against him, and it made him throw his head back, a low noise tumbling out of his throat.

"Maka," he gasped.

"Good?" she said eagerly.

He hummed and nodded quickly. "For you too?"

"Yeah," she breathed.

She continued to move, grind against him, and it felt amazing. But then she moved his hand—both of them this time actually—to her breasts and encouraged him to grope her.

Warmth was pooling deep down in his belly, coiling tighter as he felt her nipples harden under hands, creating points sticking out of her dress.

Maka let out a sudden huff of annoyance though and stopped, and he almost whined in protest, but he was quickly shut up by her pulling the dress up over her head and throwing it off the side of the bed.

He was going to die, his skin felt overheated and tingly, like it was going to set itself on fire.

She was completely naked under her dress, there was nothing at all to shield her body from his gaze. He drank her in as she flushed a little, pink travelling down from her cheeks to her chest, drawing his eyes down with it.

Her chest heaved as she watched him watch her. His gaze roamed down her body completely to the small bush of dark blonde hairs in between her legs. That was where he was meant to go, at least according to everything he had been told in the lead up to his wedding.

Ox had (mortifyingly) told him the basics of what was supposed to happen. Wes had (even more disgustingly) told him what it was supposed to feel like. Harvar had merely laughed at his discomfort. True, it had horrified him at first, but now looking at Maka, at how beautiful she was, with this new need and want growing in his heart, he was far more open to the idea of sex.

At least with her. He was pretty certain he would never feel this way about anyone other than Maka for the rest of his days.

Fingers interrupted his view, but only to reach down and tug at the hem of his pants.

"Can these come off?" Maka asked softly.

He nodded mutely and helped lift his hips off the bed so she could shuffle his pants down, after untying the string that kept them fixed in place. Soon his pants were dropped off the side of the bed to join her dress, and they were both left nude.

What Soul had not really expected was the wetness that come from having his stuff up against Maka's. He knew that meant she was aroused—which was good, great!—but he had not anticipated there being so much of it, spread across her nether region and her thighs, and now spread to his.

She grinned down at him and resumed her grinding. And then his mind completely blanked as sparks flew down his back from how really fucking good that felt.

He grasped at her hips and helped her move, becoming entranced in the way her body undulated as she rolled her hips against his. Her breasts, small as they were, jostled very noticeably with her movements and he was struck with the desire to kiss them.

For once, he went with that desire, leaning on an elbow so he could curl in towards her and pepper kisses all over her chest. Maka's fingers tangled in his hair and she gasped, then made a low noise in the back of her throat, speeding up her movements.

He wrapped an arm around her waist to support him instead of his elbow, and used his free hand to grope the breast he was not kissing. Then he made a discovery.

Kissing her nipple made her shudder, licking it made her curl in over him, and scraping it gently with his teeth made her cry out his name. And so he set out to gently nip at all the skin he could get to, kissing away any marks he may have left in the process.

She hummed and sighed as he moved from her chest to her neck, worrying the skin of her throat a little. Her movements drew out little noises from him every now and then, and the whole things just felt really great.

Maka pulled him away from her neck using his hair and smashed her mouth into his, a little painfully, but all was forgiven when she licked her way inside to his tongue.

They kept this up for a while, clutching at each other, kissing and grinding, until finally Maka stopped them to breathe out,

"Let's do it."

He almost asked her what she meant, but caught on before he could embarrass himself with such a question.

"Yes. Let's," he replied and she kissed him again for a long moment before wriggling off of him.

She lay down next to him and started tugging on his arm to lean over her, so he could nestle himself between her legs. She pulled his head down for a kiss and wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer to her body. He sighed at the wonderful heat and slickness, and was content to just continue to grind, but she wriggled impatiently.

"Soul, please!" she gasped as he bucked against her, moaning low into her neck.

"Do-do you want me to do anything for you? Be-before, I, y'know…" he asked awkwardly, pressing wet kisses to the side of her face and neck.

She took a shaky breath and tugged on his hair gently to get him to look her in the eye. "No, I'll be OK. Thank you for offering, though. Can we just… do it?"

He bit the inside of his cheek, and tried to search their bond for any sort of doubt. When he did not find any, he asked aloud just to be sure.

She huffed and smiled a little crooked grin. "If I wasn't sure, I wouldn't have asked. Yes. Please, can we be one?"

Though he could not quite make sense of it, he could not refuse the adoring look in her eyes. No one had ever looked at him like that.

He pressed his forehead to hers and took a deep breath through his nose. "Alright. Let's be one." He was proud of his voice for only wavering a little bit.

He reached down to take himself in hand to help guide himself inside her, but after several long moments of trying, he looked at her pleadingly.

"Help?" he said in a pathetic little whimper.

She giggled and turned her head enough to kiss his cheek, before reaching down to wrap her hand around his and guide him the right direction. It took two more tries, but they finally found the right place.

As soon as he started to enter her, she sucked in a deep breath through gritted teeth and he froze.

"Am I hurting you?" he asked frantically.

She shook her head. "No, it just feels strange. Just go slow, I'm fine. I'll tell you if it hurts."

He started chewing on the inside of his cheek again as he sunk into her, trying to focus on the small pain his teeth caused rather than the blinding heat and friction from her body taking his in. He felt his arms and legs shake as they held him up, moving at a torturously slow speed.

Maka breathed hard by his ear, but she did not tell him to stop. He hoped it felt as good for her as it did for him, because it felt amazing.

Finally, finally, he was fully sheathed inside her, and they both let out tense breaths.

"Maka," he gasped against her cheek. "You-you feel so…so…"

She sighed and her breath hitched as he twitched slightly inside her. "Yeah," she breathed. "You too—ah. You can move, please!"

He clenched handfuls of the bed sheets in a hold that would have hurt if he had been grabbing Maka, and budged his hips a little, thrusting shallowly.

She gasped and hummed and wrapped her arms tight around his shoulders. "A-a little more, like that."

He thrust a little deeper and groaned into her neck, hissing her name as he tried to see past the blurring stars behind his eyelids.

Her nails dug into his back, and he thrust a little harder, making her moan quietly.

He swore under his breath and stammered, "I-I'm not going to—Maka you feel so good, I—"

She hummed and pressed sloppy kisses against his cheekbone. "It's OK," she whispered breathlessly, keening between each thrust. "This is amazing, thank you so much—"

He did not hear the rest of what she said, as the feeling of her around him pushed the coil that had been tightening in his lower abdomen since she had first pulled his hand to her breast wound so tightly it almost hurt, before snapping and shooting white hot pleasure all through his body. Colours and stars danced in his vision as he choked out her name, jerking against her as unravelled.

She sighed and stroked his hair as he slowly came back to himself, sprawled on top of her.

He pulled himself out and slumped over to the side, even as she whined for him to stay, and wrapped an arm around her waist to pull her towards him.

"Sorry," he murmured into her hairline. "That wasn't very… good." Understatement of the century. "You're supposed to have something like that, too."

She giggled and pressed a kiss to his neck. "An orgasm?" He made a sound like a squeak, but she thankfully either did not hear it or just ignored it. "It's OK. We have a whole month to practice."

This time when he squeaked, she laughed, rubbing his back.

When he no longer felt like his face was going to catch on fire, he mumbled, "Still feel bad, though."

Maka hummed against his chest, this time sounding like a noise of interest. "Well, we could always…"

When she did not continue he pulled away slightly to look at her flushed face. "What?"

She bit her lip and looked up at him with hooded eyes. Without saying a word, she took one of his hands and led it down her torso to the space between her legs. Her skin was slick, and as she used his fingers to part her lower lips, he was reintroduced to the warmth there.

She pushed his fingers against a little nub just above the source of her arousal, and gasped sharply when she made him rub it. She pressed her open mouth to his collarbone and panted as she moved fingers around the nub in circles.

"Good?" he breathed.

She hummed and nodded, fidgeting a little. "Yes."

Watching her get worked up by his doing was starting to make the burning arousal return. She was so beautiful, he could hardly stand it.

Her mouth hung open as she panted, the speed of her breaths increasing as her face scrunched up. Her voice started to catch in her breaths, high pitched and wordless.

He started rubbing harder and faster of his own volition, and her hand left his to clutch his shoulders as she mashed her face against him, wriggling her hips against his hand.

"Soul," she gasped. "Ye-yes, Soul!"

He hoped she was drawing closer to that pleasure, because she was driving him mad by watching her.

She gasped his name over and over until finally she went silent, mouth open as she shuddered and shook, hips spasming against his hand. He did his best to keep up, but as her movements starts to slow, she grabbed his hand against to stop him.

"'s a little sensitive," she said softly as she panted.

He murmured a quick apology into her hair and she laughed breathlessly before kissing him soundly.

"Thank you," she whispered against his lips, eyes closed.

He chuffed and wrapped her up in his arms, renewed arousal now beginning to fade away as sleepiness began to overtake him. "You don't have to thank me. I should be thanking you."

She snorted and nuzzled his throat.

As they started to cool down, they shuffled underneath the blankets, still wrapped up in each other's arms.

They kissed a little more, slowly but passionately, before the exhaustion of a truly hectic day overwhelmed them.

Just as Soul was about to drift off to sleep, Maka tucked neatly under his chin, he heard her murmur, "I love you."

Warmth surged in his heart, and he thought he had never been so happy. He kissed the top of her head, and whispered, "I love you too."

She sighed contentedly and soon they were both asleep.