Author's Note: First of all I would like to thank all of you who stuck with this and read this even though I was a poop head and left you all hanging. I so sorry.
But this chapter continues a lemonso those of you who don't want to read that then this story isn't for you as bad sexual relations is kind of a central part of this (no this is not PWP at least I don't think so?). But anyways for those of you who have been waiting have at it my Preciouses! Also I made this long for you guys!
(And yeah this is sort of my first detailed one so it might suck and I'm sorry. It's important for the story. And I mean it took me a year to write it cause I was so not looking forward to it. Like I freaked out. But oh well. I eventually got it done and decent.)
Let the party continue.
Disclaimer: And thus Soul Eater and the lyrics from "Stars" by the xx shall never be mine and neither was it ever mine. That doesn't make much sense but whatever the point is there.
I can give it all on the first date
I don't have to exist outside this place
And, dear, know that I can change
Part 2 of Part 1: The First Date
"Soul! Get 'er lazy albino ass down 'ere, man!"
Soul rolled his eyes to himself, recognizing the telltale rowdy slur of his best friend's voice. He was obviously a drink away from being shitfaced and didn't sound prepared to stop any time soon.
With a resigned puff of air, Soul dragged himself away from his work and gingerly silenced his record player, knowing all too well that a drunken Star was a forceful Star. He doubted any good would come from pretending to ignore the erratic blue-haired "god."
A noise, similar to shattering glass or a gunshot, drifted up to his wing of the house and he immediately hustled into his pants, sure that whatever just broke downstairs was most likely expensive. He waited as his feet brushed along the cream carpet of the upstairs hallway for Kid's scream of disapproval and non-symmetrical angst, but it never came.
Which really wasn't that great of a sign either.
He hurried to the central staircase and peered over the banister down to the lobby below where a small group of people milled around in the entrance hall. He could make out the blocky shapes of his eccentric best friends and roommates as well as three other bodies nearby them and one off to the side.
Though the hanging chandelier wasn't on and he couldn't see the actual persons, he noticed the protruding spikes of Black Star's insanely blue hair and the stiff set of Kid's pressed suit and ever straight shoulders. He appraised two bodies, one short and the other almost as tall as Kid, lounging against said male's shoulders, his arms appearing haphazardly thrown across theirs. Black Star's biceps lazily encircled a statuesque figure whose ample breasts were apparent even in the dull lighting. Soul stared at the wraith in the corner, but couldn't see any distinguishing characteristics. He speculated that it was probably a girl brought home for him. By the amount of giggling and hooting down below, Soul could at least guess that the boys, who were no doubt drunk out of their minds, had brought home some babes (equally drunk babes no less) to play.
Though a lecherous smirk split across his face, Soul inwardly groaned. He was in no mood to frisk the bitches tonight and knew that, even if he got amped and lucky enough to get laid, he would be the one cleaning up the mess in the morning. Nonetheless, he ambled down the stairs with a cocky grin and arrogant hazy eyes, the picture of the cool, rich playboy his reputation promised.
"'Sup Star! Kid! What have we got here?"
Both Black Star and Kid attempted to extricate themselves from the curvaceous forms clinging to them in order to pound Soul's raised fists, but their hazy minds were quickly distracted as both girls nibbled on Kid's earlobes (symmetrically and simultaneously) and one of Black Star's hands slipped from his charge's shoulder to her left breast. Soul resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
"Um…we gots-," Black Star swayed and hiccupped. "We, um, we gots chicks, man!" He screeched with all the suave subtlety of a North Korean missile launch. Soul resisted the urge to mutter "no shit, Sherlock" as that would either A) get Black Star extremely upset or B) the sarcasm would be missed and therefore it would be pointless anyways, so he simply nodded his head somewhat enthusiastically.
"Yeah…yeah I noticed that, Star. It was a rhetorical question. Damn, you guys are fucked up! Please tell me none of you guys drove…"
"What'sa ret-re-torn-icicle…?" Black Star's nose wrinkled as he tried to sound out whatever his best friend had said. Soul merely took a deep breath and shook his head.
Keep your cool, Soul. Keep. Your. Cool.
Kid burped lightly and mumbled a startled, "Oh! Excuse me!" before slurring, "No, no, we drove here. We all hads to squeeze ourselves into the back of my car, but we mades it quite alright I'd say."
The young albino blanched, face turning whiter than a sheet.
"You guys drove?! Of all the stupid, idiotic things! Shit! That's the rule, guys! The rule!" Soul whirled on Kid and threw a long finger in his face. The other male went cross-eyed as he tried to focus in on it. "I expected this from the 'god' over here, but not you! Your dad's the fucking mayor for crying out loud!"
His "responsible" friend shook his head back and forth hastily, distantly reminding his accuser of a Slinky being tossed between two hands, before trying (and failing) to gesture off at the darkened corner beside the door. Soul was just about to lunge and wring both of his roommates' necks for their recklessness, ladies present be damned, when a lithe, cheery voice emanated from the aforementioned darkness.
"Oh, quiet down, Mother Hen. They didn't drive. I doubt any of these bozos could even unlock the car doors with their heads this far gone. So, I drove them here."
He turned towards the speaker and will never be able to forget that first time he saw her.
She emerged from the shadows like some fairytale creature, gracefully and with the nonchalant ease and confidence of a predator knowing it was at the top of the food chain. Her skin was flawless and unblemished bringing the words "newborn" and "virgin" to the forefront of one's mind and her hair, tied into two low-hanging curly pigtails drifting to her shoulders, only added to this odd, childish air about her.
Her eyes though…
To be honest, they kind of freaked him out, which quite frankly was wrong of him. A guy with red eyes didn't have much room to talk about strange iris colors, now did he? Still, they reminded him of green traffic lights and radioactive things since they sort of glowed that eerie shade that was so green it almost shone blue. And then there was this…wisdom underneath the mischievous shine and innocence they portrayed that hinted at a scary intelligent, hardened mind constantly calculating from within.
Soul blinked a couple of times, eyes focusing and re-focusing, before he grimaced.
She wasn't his type—at all.
This…girl (cause she sure wasn't a "woman") barely came up to Black Star's chin and was stick thin. The tight black dress she wore showed that she did indeed have some delicate, refined curves (sort of), but seemed to also point out the fact that she barely had any tits. Her long, slender legs gave her some points in the "fuckable" department, though even they were slightly too bony for Soul's tastes. Her collarbone was so freaking pronounced that he had this feeling if he so much as flicked it with his fingers it would shatter to pieces. And to make matters worse, she was the worst kind of blonde there was—that fine, ashy gray sort of blonde, so close to being dishwater but not quite.
This chick needed to go on an all-meat diet or something…and maybe with a side of "extreme makeover."
Soul turned to Star and opened his mouth in order to ridicule him for being so drunk that he brought home a girl Soul wouldn't even sleep with on a dare when the blonde interrupted him. She slinked straight past him with a derisive glance, a sniff and a toss of a pigtail.
"You're not as handsome as they say, Mr. Evans. But then again, I suppose that's to be expected when you have enough money to buy your company, your dates, and your personality. In any case, if you'll excuse me, Black Star promised me a shower."
And then she was gone, swallowed by the shadows on the stairs with the finality of someone who owned the place dismissing her servants. Soul could only stand there and gape at his deeply inebriated friends before petulantly waving a hand towards the upstairs and the she-dragon who had slinked into the castle.
"Who the fuck is she?"
The heavily breasted girl leaning on Black Star spoke up, her eyes glittering like stars the only hint of her intoxication. "'M sorry. That's our friend and she doesn't get out much…"
"Yeah she's a party shitter sometimes. We thought if we brought her out for a drink she'd have fun, but she was just whinin' the whole night. See if you can loosin' 'er up, will ya?" The taller of the two honey gold blondes (Soul's preferred kind of blonde) rambled on, half-lidded ice blue eyes fluttering in Soul's direction. The smaller and curvier blonde giggled and wildly shook her head in agreement.
"Uh…" The white haired male scratched the back of his neck and tugged the ends of his unruly hair, a nervous habit of his. On the outside, he had to remain cool, calm, and collected despite the fact that he'd rather throw everyone, especially the rude girl upstairs, out tonight. He had a composition he was working on and assisting these drunken imbeciles get laid by hot, hammered girls while he played nice with their way too sober, ugly friend was not going to help him finish it. Still, a sharp smirk split his lips in half as he rolled his shoulders in an effortless shrug and drawled, "Sure. You ladies have fun now. Don't let my friends keep you up too long tonight, mkay?"
The girls giggled in that girly "oh, yes we will" way. Black Star winked (with both eyes), his signal of "dude, I'm going to own it tonight and pay you back later." Even Kid dipped his head in admiration to the slouched albino and managed to stick one thumb up.
Which left Soul stomping back up the stairs to find Ms. Stick-Up-Her-Ass while the others went out the screen door to have a jolly good time in the hot tub.
Damn! He really did have some shit friends.
The problem with being wealthy and sharing a big house with two other wealthy guys was that one didn't necessarily know the layout of said building. The only reason they chose a house of such magnitude and extravagance was for the hundreds of parties they hosted. Big house equaled lots of people which in turn equaled lots of girls that liked rich, college boys with nice, huge houses. It was a practically guaranteed way to get laid at least once, if not three or four times, during every party. Not to mention you could almost effortlessly avoid girls you'd already slept with or didn't want to ever sleep with.
But it was moments like this where Soul had to peer and whisper, "Are you in there?" into every room that made him wish the house was of a more normal, reasonable size. He had already checked five guestrooms and two of the extra bathrooms only to find zilch. Maybe she ended up exploring and went downstairs?
Ah well. He tried. That's what mattered.
The tired musician yawned and stretched in the quiet of the hallway, ignoring the loud yee-haws, guffaws, squeals and splashes that drifted upwards from the screen door downstairs. He gave another half-assed peek into the empty rooms he passed on the way to his room before collapsing into his comfy leather desk chair with a sigh. His eyes felt heavy and his shoulders relaxed now that he found himself in his usual resting place. Gradually, he succumbed to the rhythmic syncopations and swing of the Bjork-singing-jazz-music vinyl spinning on his record machine. The added background sounds of water falling soothed him to the core and reminded him of his childhood where the only blessed sleep was during a thunderstorm.
Wait a sec—
Soul distinctly remembered turning his music off. And this soundtrack didn't have water in it!
He whirled around, mouth wide open to screech profanities or maybe just scream, when he came face to chest with a towel-clad green-eyed girl. His red eyes swelled at the interesting development of "okay-she-kinda-does-have-some-nice-perky-tits" before flicking upwards to the piercing stare of what was most assuredly Kryptonite.
Because seriously Soul had never felt this flustered in front of the opposite sex before.
Ever.
But, for whatever reason, this blonde who wasn't technically blonde by his definition was starting to get under his skin. He was sure if he focused hard enough he would feel her gaze digging into him and consuming him. Pale, practically translucent hair prickled along his forearms and the back of his neck as his skin exploded into goose bumps.
There was something fiercely intriguing about her stare…something unusual. The girl was no longer merely sizing him up, but rather entertaining some idea. Soul could practically glimpse her mind working beneath the cold, glassy gaze, tiny silver flecks swirling like petals being pushed across a green lake.
Her strange eyes and their stirring intensity somehow made his heart start to pound. Not that she could ever be allowed to know that.
Soul pointedly ignored her state of undress, after a brief once over that, irritatingly enough, aroused him just a bit more that it should, and scowled. He leaned back in his fine leather chair and rather jerkily placed his arms behind his head. At his practically sporadic movements in reaction to her presence, his cheeks began to redden, a horrifying development. Blushing? Ew! That was something little Lolita girls did or whatever! Not him! Not Soul "Eater" Evans!
He had to wave all this off. Act kind of pissed and put out. Be cool. Be cool.
"I don't recall inviting you into my room." Despite his internal insistence of sounding annoyed, he ended up a little on the whiny end to his endless frustration.
The girl shrugged, her expression unsurprised and uncaring. "I don't recall asking for an invitation." Before he could utter any retort she turned her back on him, her fine wet hair spraying delicate cold drops along his face and neck.
"You have a t-shirt or something I can borrow? Sleeping in that dress will most likely rip or wrinkle it."
When she glanced back at him, Soul watched her eyebrows flutter oddly, like silvery waves rolling on a pale white sea. He was pretty sure his mouth was open and gaping and, from what he could tell from this extremely hard to read girl, she was annoyed…or surprised by his expression? Possibly both.
"What?" She practically growled the word at him. "Why are you looking at me like that? Did your nanny forget to teach you courtesy or something?"
His jaw snapped shut with an audible click. This fucking girl…He hated her. Hated the way her green eyes entranced him and then belittled him. Most of all, the young man despised who she reminded him of. The one person who always looked down on him.
Luckily, she was a person he could fight back.
"Oh, well excuse me, Princess." He forced as much venom that would fit into the two syllables before sneering. "Speaking of courtesy, I was just so taken aback by your lack of manners. I forget not everyone had my upbringing and I apologize. I'm just not used to being around people lower than me."
The second he uttered the phrase her cheeks darkened to a well-defined bright, blistering red and he knew he hit a touchy spot. Honestly the color looked good on her and it kind of pissed him off, but with her childlike face screwed into a somewhat fierce, angry glare she was all of a sudden more attractive and adorable. She seemed to teeter on the edge of cute kitten and graceful tigress; from one angle she appeared like an avenging angel who could crush anyone in her path and in the next it was as if she were a toddler—you could blow on her forehead and it would knock her down.
Still. He had obviously gained the upper hand with his insinuation that she was miserly and from her reaction it must have been true to an extent. Then again, there were few people in the city who had as much money, power, and prestige as he did.
Whaddaya know. He actually found a perk to being an Evans.
She sniffed and harrumphed furiously, effectively hiding her already fading flush under soaked strands of hair. He watched with an uncomfortable sense of growing fascination and loathing as she meandered confidently to his dresser, paused at the five drawers in front of her momentarily before opening the middle-most drawer and pulling out a soft cotton t-shirt.
Okay. It was a little freaky that she got the right drawer on the first try. Maybe this chick was something supernatural after all.
Nervous and fidgeting as he was, the girl's ability to interest him and set his thoughts into darker areas of the mind was seriously brushing dangerous waters, Soul prepared himself to deliver some type of "death-blow" that would get the girl not only out of his room but hopefully out of his home for good when she did something so unexpected he couldn't even breathe.
She simply dropped the towel.
No warning. No contemplation. No fucking nothing. Just one second she was covered by dark red fabric and the next-
His eyes had a luscious view of a surprisingly erotic back side. Her shoulder blades were well-pronounced and lined with lean muscle, the artist in him thought that the curving slopes resembled stretching bird wings, as was her seemingly limber spine. Delicate shadows made from the tips of her vertebrae touching the pure skin led his attention down, down, down until it rested on a mouth-watering tight, firm ass which gave way to those never-ending tightly corded legs.
Holy mother of shit balls.
And then it was gone, disappearing underneath a rather familiar gray t-shirt with intense black lettering forming the words "THE EATER" across the top half of her back.
A lump appeared in his constricting throat which made it difficult for him to swallow the sudden influx of saliva. Just seeing that shirt on her…well it kind of made his initial sorta arousal morph into an actual jean-compressing boner.
His hazy mind started to wonder if she knew his nickname was "the Eater"…and if she would enjoy the reason behind it.
That one thought provoked his traitorous brain into suddenly pulling forth an image of her behind again, only now her long legs were bent as she was on her knees and her ass was right there and he was leaning over her, his hands on the narrow flare of her hips…
Oh fuck. Bad Soul. Bad Soul! We don't think of ugly, titless girls like this. She's a bitch, Soul. A fucking bitch!
His other head however seemed to disagree with his brain's way of thinking. It continued to shout more and more reflections of her and him entangled together, panting together. And then he began to envision how her eyes would glow at that moment.
Oh fuckity fuck.
There was no denying it. He was hard as a rock and it was for this initially unattractive, off-putting room-invading bitch.
Greeeeeeat. This had to be his worst temptation yet. And there had been Brittany the chick who couldn't remember which way to spell her name. Oh! And Veronika who used to proclaim with absolute certainty that two plus two was actually five. Stacy had a terrible issue with the hiccups and Betheny had wanted to fucking elope with him after a very brief and not all that spectacular make out session.
But he was pretty sure this instance took the cake.
He really was unhappy about this. Honestly. Truly. Yet not so upset that when she turned around right as he was trying to surreptitiously rearrange the way his pants folded around his thickening erection, her eyebrows shot to her hairline and her mouth gave a little, hardly audible somehow nerve-tingling gasp. Which of course only caused him to twitch with even more painstakingly intense arousal.
Seriously, what was his deal with this girl? The soft, practically muffled noise fueled his already raging desire and caused his spank bank to gain an extra level. He now had some sort of sound with his sight and he could totally tell this was to be a mortifying, cool-shattering experience.
His blood red eyes were narrowed and defensive as they zeroed in on her face, his mouth fumbling around an excuse for his "oh hey there" erection that had absolutely nothing to do with her when they noticed the subtle shift of her tongue along her semi-parted lips. The green of her eyes blazed forth, surreal against her moonlit skin, but was clouded by expanding black pupils focused with an entirely too heavy attention on him.
Soul wasn't sure if he was pleased or not but he damn sure wasn't going to break probably the most heated sexual stare off he'd ever participated in. And he'd been in quite a few.
Usually the girls would blush and look away all the while biting their lips, a subtle submissive way of urging him forward. Of allowing permission. Occasionally the super sultry or slutty ones would arrange their bodies against the wall or furniture or the floor and moan as if the sight of him was too much for them to stand up straight. But not this girl.
No. Not this one. She promptly and purposefully strode toward him and gracefully lowered herself onto his lap which ironically caused him to slump a bit and groan. There she hovered, her eyes lidded and lusty but still calculating, still thinking. She gazed at his shaking form, his Adam's apple bobbing as he kept trying to swallow, his knees and hands quivering like autumn leaves, unsure if they wanted to stay their positions or fall to the ground. In his mind he was reeling. Did he want her? Did she want him? How did this happen? Where was this going? Her position was practically spelling out something was going to go down, but how far and for how long?
And why?
But smart and cautious as Soul was, he remained a man. A man extremely, if not solely, intrigued and interested by this girl who just so happened to be challenging him and practically sitting on his dick. She wasn't touching him, hadn't moved since she crawled on top of him though he bet her upheld, crouching position was painful if her clenching thighs were any indication, and she showed no inclination of ever setting her bottom on his lap.
But in her eyes he saw an offset shadow of his cool-boy smirk. This was a challenge.
So he slammed their lips together.
His hands immediately fisted in the thin, damp strands of her hair, fine and soft as silk to stay her position while his hips flexed upwards, expertly hitting her right where it counted. There was that gasp again, breathless and honestly shocked, and it gave him enough time to slip a tongue between her lips so he could pretend he could taste the noise for himself. Soul slowly ground his jean-clad erection against the side of her inner thigh, creating a friction close enough to cause discomfort but urgent enough to promise a future release from the pain. Her answering noise was lower in her throat this time and he could feel the secondhand vibrations as his tongue curled around hers.
And now he had her.
Or so he thought.
He had her up until she stealthily sucked in his lower lip and finally rested her God-crafted ass on his lap, slowly undulating it against the bump on his crotch.
Then he too was gone.
It was a battle, no, a war between them, their minds, and their bodies. He lifted himself, and her as well, up out of the chair and took two enormous strides towards his bed. All the while their lips pressed and molded, released and remolded together; their tongues swirled and fought as teeth tore skin without mercy.
He became enraptured by the smooth, stringy muscles of her throat hurriedly alternating between tender open-mouthed kisses intent on tasting her flesh and fierce bites placed to stoke her internal fire as she stoked his. Her hand, small but sure, found the spot where his pants buttoned and it seemed it took her no time at all to release part of his tension. Her long legs were strong and well-conditioned, from what his mind couldn't possibly guess in this haze, but she had no trouble staying balanced and connected to his hips as one foot shuffled his jeans down and off his ass. They slid with a rather exciting hiss to his ankles and he came to regret the slim-fitting boxers he insisted on wearing.
Maybe if they were looser they would have been taken down with the ship and then his captain could "brave the wet ocean" already.
And she was an ocean. He could feel the dampness and heat from between her legs already, had felt it when they had been grinding against one another on the chair. Her body was tumultuous, intoxicating and pulling him in like the tide or the current or what-the-fuck-ever. Every motion, every flinch of her muscles, was purposeful and controlled, easily bringing him way too close to the edge.
And she hadn't even touched him yet.
Hell he hadn't touched her.
As soon as he realized this, Soul sought to remedy it. It took some persistence and fumbling before he unwrapped her legs from around his waist and promptly shoved her onto the bed. She bounced from the impact due to her light weight, honestly she was such a tiny, bony thing—he could probably carry her one handed if he had to—and he caught a glimpse of her eyes peering through a fringe of white gold hair.
Good Lord he didn't even know the color green could burn like that. Red, sure. Red was the color of fire, of heat, and of blood. His eyes were burning, this he knew. But he had not expected to see such intensity from hers.
The white-haired male abruptly crouched, he could tell from her shifting eyebrows and squinting nose that she was surprised by his hasty disappearance, and he immediately pried her legs apart and dove straight in.
She tasted like sex as he supposed all women do, but she had an incredibly sweet aftertaste. His completely unexpected exploration caused her to squeal and squirm in the most satisfying way and her hips pushed upwards into his mouth, egging his firm movements on. He was well-versed in female anatomy, especially in connection to his mouth. He didn't get the nickname Eater for nothing after all. He knew just where to prod and poke, knew how to lightly flick along her clit to the point where her hands were tearing at his roots and her legs were quivering with fine tremors of pleasure, knew how to alternate between curling his tongue and stiffening it inside her. Yet there was something utterly different about doing it to this particular girl.
She purred in contentment and moaned in ecstasy yet she would tug at his head as if she didn't want him there. One mumbled phrase clarified things to a sharply drawn line so clear and there he almost came on the spot.
"That's no fair, wanna taste you, too."
And in that single moment, in that second, he had enough wits to realize she was attempting to play on equal terms. She was using him as he used countless girls before her, as he was currently using her. He would not win this war. There would be no defeating this girl because she was smart and clever and like him.
Somehow, in his diluted, aroused state of mind, he was okay with that. Just this once.
Just this once, he'd let a girl have him as much as he had her.
But only to such an extent.
He stopped his ministrations and she hummed in a blurred reaction of content and discontent. Quick as he could, Soul shuffled his jeans up enough to reach the back pocket, pulling out a condom and slipping it on with expert haste. He shucked them off in annoyance then, along with his boxers and roughly ripped off his shirt. With his forearm he pushed hers up so that he could glimpse her heaving chest and well-shaped mounds where most girls had bulbous tits. Distantly in the back of his mind, he thought he quite liked her dainty chest-size and adored the petite pinking circles housing slender, pointed nipples. They were more refined and most likely more sensitive.
He wanted a taste. To nibble and see if his theory was correct or not. But she was breathing heavily and griping at him to "hurry up" so he did as he was told.
He slid into her without warning and contemplation.
"Think of it as revenge for the towel-thing," he whispered along her left ear, her ankle resting against his neck. He shuddered as she clenched around his intrusion, drowning him once again. Like she was the current or the tide or what-the-fuck-ever.
"I don't know what you're talking about," her breath ghosted over his throat before she brought her teeth to graze along the same path. He jerked his hips in response to her nips and both of them groaned at the sensations it caused. She flexed herself in just the right way in time with his thrusts that made the entire experience so evenly matched, so incredibly sensuous and fucking good.
Did he ever really have sex with anyone until now? Cause his dick sure felt virginal in her burning core, spasms and contortions around each plunge making his vision blur and his stomach tighten in that telling way.
Fucking damn it all. He was going to be undone soon.
The only good news to that was the knowledge she probably was, too. She was panting heavily, each breath and moan a silent plea to move faster, harder, right there right there. He shoved a hand in between them and arranged his thumb so every stroke of his pelvis nudged her sweet spot and her cries heightened while her insides miraculously quivered even more.
But he wanted one thing from her before the end.
"What's your name?" He groaned against her, his motions pausing momentarily to provoke her into replying. She growled at his slowing and merely picked up the pace on her end not for one second entertaining his request. Unfortunately he was stronger than her and could easily crush the erratic movements of her hips with a well-placed elbow. She succumbed for a second to him as he kneaded her breasts and lightly brushed along her clit bringing her there but not fulfilling her in any way. She gave in sullenly in the form of a fierce whisper of a short, two-syllable word. A name but one he'd never heard before. Exotic. Weird.
He guessed it fit her.
And the warriors returned to their pushing and pulling again.
The moment before her orgasm hit was silent and still, the sudden quiet shocking him to the point where he stopped moving in order to make sure she was alive. And then she exploded around him, her clenching muscles practically painful but also blissfully delicious. Her exhale of sound and breath drove him so close to his own finish line that he began to pound into her without restraint; she somehow still had enough energy in her to push back. His shoulder blades were tenser than airplane security and his insides were melting from the amount of fire inside him.
So fucking close.
And then he reached that edge, grunting "Maka" and nipping at her fragile collarbone before slumping against her. His release knocked the breath from his lungs and practically tore his thumping heart right out of his chest. He felt several pounds lighter, which he supposed he was, and a lethargy he'd never associated with post-sex feels before. His eyes fixed onto hers, wondering what she looked like in the hum of completion, and when they did some of his remaining fire billowed out into smoke at her expression.
The color was muted and faded. Distant. There was no glow, no light, nothing he would have expected from this fiery girl who was on par with him in intelligence and possibly more.
Something in him was frightened of the emotionless cloud in her eyes.
But then she tugged his face to hers and sucked his remaining breath away and they went to battle again.
The midday sun was the most deplorable thing about living in Death City. Curtains or shades or even walls sometimes couldn't block out the all-encompassing bright light. The very light that was searing his eyeballs no matter that they were hidden underneath his arm, two fluffy goose-feather pillows, the thickest softest comforter money could buy, and the darkest pair of curtains he could find.
Soul stretched out languorously, his back popping in a sigh-inducing sequence. He yawned then and reached out for something warm and small and cozy and…something. When his hand found nothing but a bunched bit of sheet he opened his eyes blearily.
And sat up so fast his vision swam.
The fuck? Where was the girl?
It took his sleep-deprived, sex-addled mind a few beats to come to the conclusion that she had gotten up and left him in bed waiting for morning sex or awkwardness that would never ensue.
Holy shit she pulled a me on me.
This…had never happened before. Never in his entire life had Soul Evans woken up after participating in a one night stand and felt so…alarmed. And angry. And out of control!
Who the hell did she think she was? To leave him all high and dry and fuck! That was his job! He was the one who left because he didn't give a damn and the sex wasn't all that great (even though last night it was mind-shattering amazing every single time) and because…because he didn't get tied down with women who were independent and smarter than him, he was unsuspecting of this role reversal.
Of course. Now his dick remembered why they only slept with dumb girls.
He heaved himself out of bed and carelessly threw on the closest shirt to him. The white-haired man grunted and muttered cuss words to no one in particular as he pulled on a pair of basketball shorts before he made his way into the carpeted hallway. He stomped down the stairs petulantly, his whole face feeling like he'd sucked on a lemon (and probably looking like he had, too). Halfway down he smelt a scent he became rather well acquainted with last night and hurried his steps.
Though he was expecting a girl, the boy was entirely unprepared to find his kitchen full of girls, though a brief overview reinforced the fact that no, she was not here.
The smell clung to him still and that confused him. Surely he wasn't, God forbid, recalling the scent from memory because if he was that was a set of problems he really didn't even want to imagine dealing with. It wasn't until he glanced down that he noticed he just so happened to pull on the shirt she had chosen to wear last night.
Figures.
So he furiously ripped it off and tossed it onto a banister, growling lowly to himself.
Bitch pollutes my mind, messes with my dick, and leaves my clothes smelling like her! Ugh! So. Not. Cool!
"Whoa. Angry much? Want to tell us what on earth the shirt did to you? And why in a house full of hangovers you would jump down the stairs?"
The voice was thick and cynical and when he searched for its source he found the pretty tall blonde girl who had been hanging on Kid's shoulder glaring cold blue-gray daggers at him. Her hair was mussed in a tangled, wavy mess but she pulled the look off easily with her narrow face and high cheekbones. Actually she kind of looked like she was being prepared for a sexual Calvin Klein photo shoot.
Soul snorted in response to her confrontational tone and expression, shrugging nonchalantly and slouching against the wall. With his one-nighter gone, the cool persona floated and fell over him in simplistic, intricate waves. He was used to pretty girls being rude due to intense hangovers and probably no doubt a sliver of guilt or regret with whatever went down last night. He usually handled them by ignoring him but his gut was still twisted and upset from her disappearance.
Really. It was he who should have left her alone. The other way around was just…too foreign. It wasn't right. So instead of doing the smart thing, the cool thing, he ended up poking the bear.
"Nothing much. Though I can tell by your wrinkled shirt what Kid did to you."
Her face began to resemble a tomato and his fury grew twice its original size when he found himself involuntarily comparing her angry face to her angry face and deciding which one he preferred. He opened his mouth to continue on with some other thinly veiled insult when a large, hard object smacked him in the face.
"OW! What the fu-?" Another object came soaring through the air and hit him right in the nose, surprisingly painful despite its smallish size. He caught this one and was utterly shocked to find a well burnt blueberry muffin in his hand.
The fuck-?
His gaze was directed to the smaller blonde sitting behind her sister and half hiding in her shadow. She had both middle fingers raised and a frightening snarl in place. Never mind her big doe blue eyes, the shadows underneath, and her rosy cheeks which gave the impression she was a kid who had just woken up.
She was sort of on the scary side.
"Talk to my sis like that again and-" One middle finger moved to make a slicing motion across her throat.
Good Lord it's too early for this shit.
He nodded hastily in her direction and watched intrigued as she then fell flat against the table, hiding her eyes from the sun's death rays pouring through the window by positioning her arms over her head.
"Patty!" A reproachful call sounded out in admonishment to his left. "That's not a very nice way to treat one of our hosts! Honestly." His attention was brought to rest on the dark-haired, big-bust girl Star had been salivating over. She was standing awkwardly by the oven and he guessed from the plate in her hand that she was responsible for the overcooked muffin missiles. She smiled gently at him, her eyes still starry and blue like the night sky though not as shiny as last night.
"Sorry about that. I'm Tsubaki." She chuckled lightly and blushed. "I mean you probably don't even care but I just thought I should introduce myself. Black Star and Kid said it was okay to use the kitchen and to clean ourselves up so-ehem," She gestured wildly to the partially destroyed kitchen and smiled wider, "Here we are! And don't worry. I swear I'll clean it all up!"
Soul could only shake his head at her exuberant, reserved but kind nature. It would appear Star and Kid had some troubles in the one night stand department, too, since their girls were still here and given permission to stay.
And then he wondered if her friends were present maybe she…?
"S'alright. Maid's coming today so don't bother with the mess. But, um, is Maka still around here?"
It was extremely, over-the-top unsettling the way all three of them snapped to attention simultaneously. Like a pack of wild dogs smelling blood or something. Tsubaki almost dropped the plate she was carrying and had to fumble wildly before it smashed to bits on the floor. The two blondes, one of them was Patty he knew, were wide-eyed and slack-jawed.
"Ohmygawd." The taller one mumbled. "You had sex with her!"
It rang like an accusation and Soul wasn't sure how to handle it. The words sounded so solid and confident and how could she know that? Plus their reactions made it seem like he had forced himself on her which wasn't the case at all. Did the she-devil say something like that about him?
No. No that wasn't possible. The girl was a fighter. He hardly knew her but he at least knew that much. No way would she lie and pretend like he had made her some damsel in distress.
"Um. Yeah. What of it?" He was careful to create the most easy-going, relaxed shrug he could, calling upon his years of experience at learning how to act certain ways around certain people. Guys like him didn't necessarily sleep with girls like Maka and they damn sure didn't get left in the morning or worked up over the fact that they were left in the morning. Her friends didn't need to pick up on his distress and pass the tidbit along the grapevine to her.
Then she'd think she had won or something.
The three ladies groaned in unison and exchanged meaningful glances. It bothered him more than it should have and despite himself he was curious. He slid unconsciously out of his slouch and took a step forward, his eyes hard and unwavering in their desire to figure out what was going on. The women had just started arguing and didn't seem to note how interested and enraptured he was.
"I told you this would happen, Liz! She was in a bad place last night and now who knows what's going on with her? We'll be lucky if she doesn't shut herself away for a month now!"
"Did you really think she was going to sleep with Soul Evans of all people, Tsubaki? Did you really? 'Cause I had no fucking idea anything like that would ever happen. Maka hates guys like him! How could I have possibly known this could happen?"
"Well maybe you should have listened to her in the first place when she told you she didn't want to go out! She had that big report thing today and then we got her stuck here because Maka is too loyal to leave us to our own drunken mistakes and ugh! This was so selfish!"
"Hey now! I wasn't the only one drinking and flirting last night! Need I remind you all three of us, four if we include Maka, woke up in a random dude's bed this morning so you can't pin this all on me! It was, at the very least, a team effort of huge drunk mistakes!"
And the bickering continued as Patty, who he had figured out was the shorter creepy innocent murderous one, dug in her pockets for a cell phone and jabbed a couple fingers at the screen. She pressed a certain button and suddenly both girls were silenced by an obnoxiously loud dial tone. The connection rang a few times before there was a whoosh sound and a very breathless-
Hello?
"Maka! It's Patty. You okay?"
Yeah, yeah. Whatcha want Patty? I'm late for my meeting and I'm currently running up the world's longest staircase. Please make this quick.
"Just wanted to say I luvs ya, Maks! Go get 'em tiger! We know you can do it!"
And then she hung up the phone and turned to the frozen Liz and Tsubaki.
"She sounds pretty okay to me. So why don't you two shut up before my head explodes."
The girls blinked once. Twice. A third time. Then sheepishly they hung their heads and muttered apologies. Soul was extremely piqued by the entire display and even more fascinated with the stranger he had shared his intimate evening with. Apparently she was supposed to be destroyed after this one night stand and instead, to the obvious shock of her friends, was absolutely fine? What could that possibly mean?
He jumped when Patty's sky blue eyes locked onto his leaning figure and they gleamed with a wicked glee.
"And you. If you ever, and I do mean ever, dare tell a soul that you slept with Maka, I will cut you. Into little, tiny music-playing ribbons. And if you so much as try to mess with her feelings or manipulate her into riding your lollipop again I will gladly make sure you lose the ability to pee standing up. Do I make myself clear?"
His head was nodding in compliance before she finished the first statement.
Ending Remarks: So maybe not my best stuff but I have hopes and plans and dreams for this story (as well as for We Are the Dead if you read that). Thanks again for sticking along and I hope this at least gave you something semi-worth waiting for. I promise I won't let the next installment be a year away.
Replies-
fox of the lotus: Yeah I was kinda a meanie and left a cliff hanger and then didn't update soon, like, at all. I'm sorry. I'm glad you liked the Wes and Soul part and how it was written! I enjoyed it quite a bit and there will be more of that before the end, so if you like it you have something to look forward to! :) Also thanks for reviewing a second time and for not entirely pressuring me for an update (even though I should have given it to you sooner). You're awesome. (And you think I'm under-reviewed? Wow. I like never expecting to get any at all and get excited every time I see one left for me.)
vivalarapture: So the update wasn't soon but I hope some of the writing was still fulfilling for you! I appreciate your review and I'm extremely relieved that this (or the first part at least) sounds novel-like! I am working on a couple of my original novel stuff but I worry about quality a lot of the time. Reviews like yours give me hope in myself!
CheeseyWonder221: Wow. Your review was short, sweet, to the point and gratifying. To think someone would call my lowly fic stunning is unbelievable. The update didn't come ASAP (whoops) but thank you. I super hope you find something worthwhile in this portion of the story as well.
Jewelz Experimental: Thanks so much! Boy I still have stuff in store for this weird thingamabobber and I hope you stick with me and love it from start to finish. (That lemon though...I'm ashamed to say it took me forever to get over my fear and write the darn thing and at this point I'm just gonna accept I may never be a detailed lemon writer. Maybe that's okay. I'll just do plots and good writing and get over it.)
