Chapter 4: In Too Deep

He had offhandedly told her one night in a stupid, sleepy daze that he hated when she wore skirts with thigh highs because it gave him sinful thoughts for the rest of the day. Soul had said it in a tired voice, his mind already half-way dead from the world, but he had said it nonetheless. Whether he expected her to have been awake to hear or even meant to say it out loud was by all means a situation he could delve into more detail about later because the fact was she had heard it. And Maka Albarn wasn't someone who let simple things like that pass by her especially given their current situation. Sex with her best friend was a freshly baked cake and this new information was the sweetest bit of icing on top.

When she saw an open opportunity, she took it.

No if's, and's, or but's about it.

Maka moans as Soul kneads the skin above her thighs, the small exposed portion from where her thigh highs end and the skirt begins. She sloppily kisses the side of his mouth when his fingers graze along the curve of her ass and presses herself flush against his chest. Her entire body burns with desire and want. The top she has on is suddenly entirely too tight, too warm, and the bra underneath an unnecessary part of her attire. All she wants is for him to rip it apart and litter her creamy skin with bite marks and hickeys; leave some sign that he was here ravishing her body for the taking and pleasing her with every piece of him.

A hiss escapes from her as Soul tugs her down so that her soaked panties touch his erection. She sits up and rubs herself against him. Her eyes flutter at the sensation; a warm liquid pools in the pit of her stomach and travels across her lower abdomen and down to her pussy. His hands remain kneading her thighs while his thumbs slip in between the elastic of her underwear. Maka hums and bites her lip when she feels him near her slit and gives him a coy smile.

"You did this on purpose," he groans out.

"I have no idea what you mean."

He rolls his eyes. "I'm pretty damn sure you do. You're going out with Liz for lunch and decide to wear a skirt with thigh highs? You never wear that to go out with Liz."

"How do you know it's Liz I'm meeting? I could be meeting some guy."

"You wouldn't be doing this if it was a guy."

It isn't a lie.

"That still doesn't mean I did this on purpose."

"Maka, you got ready to go out an hour before you have to leave." He sighs as he rolls his hips, and she moans at the movement. "Then you came to make out with me. Either you're horny or just a fucking minx."

Leaning down, she raises her hips away from him, earning her a small whine of protest, but fixes it with a slow languid kiss. Soul breathes out heavily through his nose as he returns it, his mouth sucking on her bottom lip for a second longer than necessarily. Chills run down her spine as his hand threads itself into her hair to cup the back of her head while the other rests on her hip. They sigh at the same time. When they break away from the kiss, they hold each other's gaze, the fire that sears her body reflected in his own heavy lidded gaze.

Her heart hammers against her rib cage. The excitement and ecstasy she feels when they're cuddled on the couch or eating across each other at McDonald's cracking jokes fills her chest, and everything feels so right.

"What if I said it's a mixture of both?" she asks, her voice low.

"I fucking knew it," he grins before pulling her down for another kiss. "How much time you have left to kill before you gotta leave?"

Maka grabs her phone from his nightstand to check the time. "About forty-five minutes."

"Plenty of time," he says with a toothy smile.

A few minutes later, Maka finds herself flat on her back, shirt and bra both gone, and Soul's tongue lavishing her nipples.

One thing she adores about Soul's love making is his meticulous attention to pleasuring her.

Throughout this experience, she's learned he isn't one who does things the half-assed approach when it comes to sex. Oh, he may be lazy in his day to day activities, but that laziness doesn't translate to what he does in bed. He's a slow, sensual lover who doesn't rush things or go about things half-heartedly. Soul takes things in strides, tests the waters to know what makes her moan the loudest, and executes them tenfold each time. He pays attention to pleasuring her, making sure she's the one who gets the most gratification out of the sex, rather than focusing all on himself like most stereotypical men.

It's difficult for her to keep her eyes open long enough to watch him as he works; the way his tongue expertly glides over the skin of her breast before lapping around her pert nipple. She arches her back as a moan escapes from her, and Soul is quick to seize the opportunity by gently biting around the surface of her breast. His hand palms and kneads the other one, toying with her in the same fashion of his mouth and mirroring the motions. Every now and then, he switches between the two in an attempt to give them ample attention, but she's already a goner. Her core clenches every time she rubs her thighs together, her soaked panties getting wetter by the second, and heat and desire surround her lower abdomen.

Snaking a hand down her stomach, she makes her way to the hem of her panties. Her hand slips beneath the garment and finds the velvety slit of her pussy, but before she can sink her fingers inside her to relieve some tension, Soul grabs her wrist and pins her hand to the bed.

"How 'bout we leave me to do that?" he asks, voice rough and raw.

"I don't think I can wait, though." Maka threads her fingers through his hair, tugging on the soft tufts hair that makes him moan and his eyes to flutter. "I think that's enough foreplay, yeah?"

"Maybe one more minute."

Heat soaked sanguine eyes watch as he kisses the space above her collarbone sending a shudder down her spine. He trails more kisses down the dip of her stomach to her bellybutton to the hem of her skirt. She thinks for a second he's going to undress her, but that idea is shattered the moment he kisses the lining of her panties. Maka arches her back off the bed and spreads her legs to give him better access to her pussy and waits for him to remove her panties.

It doesn't come right away, though.

Instead, Soul flips her over onto her stomach in one quick motion and pulls her to the edge of the bed. She glances over her shoulder at him to see him pull her underwear down, careful so as not have them touch her thigh highs, and tosses them over his shoulder. He gives her a small smirk before his face disappears between her legs. A squeak sounds from her as he mouths her slit, tongue caressing and lapping at her opening; swirling around to touch every orifice of her walls. Her ass lifts up to give him better access as she languidly cries his name.

He kisses and sucks on her clit, biting the bulb softly as her hands reach out to grasp the other side of the bed. She feels herself grow closer and closer to the edge with each slow swipe of his tongue against her. Relief coils in the pit of her stomach, growing tighter and tighter as the seconds pass by, and right when she feels her orgasm start to hit, Soul's mouth is gone.

"Soul," she warns with a small growl and glaring at him.

"You're too eager." He opens the drawer to his nightstand to take out a condom and shimmies his pants down freeing his erect cock. As he puts the condom over it, he says, "I'm gonna be here all day while you're out. Let me at least relieve some tension as well."

"Isn't that why you have your hand? So you can go solo for a bit? It's not like you're the one who's going out in public and won't be able touch himself."

"Sometimes it's better to have the real thing, though."

Hiking up her skirt so that her butt is exposed, he positions himself between her thighs and rubs the tip of his head along her slit. She sighs at the feel of it, her eyes closing in ecstasy.

"You okay with this position?" he asks.

"Stop teasing and fuck me."

Soul lightly chuckles. "You're so needy."

Maka opens her mouth to retort, but her words are drowned out by a long, loud moan as Soul's cock slowly fills her. He gives her a moment to get used to his girth and adjust herself as needed before progressing with her wish. It starts out steady, gentle thrusts to get her used to it, before his rhythm picks up, hands crushing into the curve of her back so that she's sure there'll be bruises where his fingers are in the morning, but she doesn't at all mind it. The bundle of ecstasy in her core starts to gradually unravel; not enough to pull her to an orgasm, but enough for her to feel some relief.

Her hand reaches out behind her in search for his and interlocks their fingers once she does and pulls him forward so that his back his flush against her. He doesn't need to be told as he spreads kisses along shoulderblades and down her spine; his hands wrap around her sides and fondle her tits, one on each as they squeeze and tug at her nipples. Heat flushes over her skin and her core begs for more, more, more. It begs for his touch, his mouth, his pleasure. Anything.

"Touch me," she says, almost whines, and Soul understands.

One hand slides between her body and the mattress to where her clit is, and with a single finger, he starts stroking the nub, gentle, and it's all she needs. The relief in her lower abdomen uncoils and ribbons across her skin as her orgasm shakes her entire body. She moans out Soul's name like a prayer, the syllables separating and pulling apart, bouncing off the walls of his room as her hands grip the sheets. Her thighs tighten around his and her ankles lock around his waist to keep him there, refusing to let him leave her so soon. Soul kisses the space between her shoulders, and she feels her own name murmured against her skin when he comes as well.

They lay there for a few minutes, both completely spent and tired.

Soul pushes away a few stray pieces of her hair before kissing the crook of her neck, a coolness against her warm skin, before falling on the bed beside her. She turns to look at him. His hair is plastered to his forehead sheen with sweat, but the smile gracing his mouth reflects her own joy from the situation. Maka flips onto her side and cuddles up beside him, hooking her leg around his and not caring if she gets them dirty. That's why washing machines were invented and she has multiple pairs of thigh highs to change into. He wraps his arm around her shoulders to pull her closer and kisses the top of her head.

It's comfortable and perfect in every sense of the word except for one.

The fact that once she dresses and leaves he still remains her friend after this looms over her head, but she brushes it away. She can't worry about technicalities right now, doesn't want to worry about them is more like. What she wants is to bask in the glory of how satisfying sex is with Soul, how happy it makes her, and how much being with him even in this sense is good. It has to be good because the moment she lets herself dwell on anything except that, she shatters everything they have.

"I should wear skirts with thigh highs more often," she says, kissing his lower jaw with a grin.

"I fucking knew you planned it."

Maka comes bouncing into his room wearing a new outfit she hadn't been wearing earlier, though, it's the same style of choice. Her waist high skirt billows around her as she scurries around his room in search of her shoes, purse, and phone (when her belongings migrated from her room to his, he isn't entirely sure; it probably occurred around the same time she decided to sleep in his bed every night). She mutters to herself as she sifts through his clothes, tossing garments to the side and lecturing him to clean up after himself. He snorts and waves her off by saying why should he when she gladly does it for him.

The comment earns him a face full of dirty boxers which makes him sputter and curse while she giggles.

"It won't hurt you to pick up some things, though," Maka says as she stands by his nightstand scrolling through her phone. "Your room could use it."

"I'll have to think about it."

He definitely plans on picking up his dirty clothes because God he's gross. How the fuck did he let his room get this dirty?

"If you don't, I'll probably have to think about whether or not we should have sex next time."

Right. The sex. His room became dirty when she gave him an offer he couldn't refuse.

"You drive a hard bargain, Albarn."

"If it means you'll do some cleaning, I'll take it."

Truthfully, she could refuse to cuddle with him and he'd still probably make the effort to clean his room. He thrives on their close contact outside of the sex. A fact he refuses to tell her.

"Yeah, yeah. Go have fun with Liz before I pull you back into this bed." Soul slips his fingers passed the elastic of her thigh highs and gives them a gentle tug. "You know I can never resist when you wear these."

She swats at his hand and says, "Stop it before you tear them. You already ruined my other ones," as she adjusts them.

"Pretty sure you were the one who came into my bed, climbed on top of me, and started making out with me. So really it's your fault they got ruined."

"You're the one who put his hands on my thighs, though."

"You asked me to fuck you."

Her face tints a lovely shade of pink that makes him laugh.

"Shut up," she says, kicking the side of his. "We were both horny, okay? Let's leave it at that since we're both equally at fault here." Maka huffs and straightens out her bangs. "I'll be back in a few hours. Good luck with your songwriting. And clean your room, Soul or there won't be any sex the next time."

"Argh, yes, mother!"

Soul listens to her footsteps as she walks down the hall, staring up at the ceiling and going through the contents of their fridge to decide if he should order take out or not. There are things for him to make a sandwich with, some leftovers from Olive Garden, and a few microwave meals Maka bought for work. If he takes one of the latter, he can always repay her by buying her more. After she talks his ear off about it and complains she has no food for the rest of the week (a lie, of course). Or he can order Domino's and have the greasiest, most delicious pizza of his life without his roommate telling him how fattening it is. He always did like leftover pizza as well.

He's daydreaming about the toppings he'll put on top of the pizza when Maka comes running back into his bedroom. She throws him off guard as she kisses him square on the lips, chaste and sweet, the faint taste of mint chapstick on his mouth. His heart gives a resounding thump and skips a beat. His chest warms and he feels lighter than air. The emotions he's been suppressing for the last few months rise to the surface, slamming against him like a wave.

The desire to thread his hands in her hair tingles on the tips of fingers, to kiss her back hard and strong with every emotion in his body, but before he can do so, she breaks away and the spell is broken.

"That should hold you off for the day," she says, not meeting his gaze. Her hands rub over his bare chest as a small smile graces her face. "I'll see you tonight."

"Uh, yeah," is all he can manage to say.

She doesn't move, though. She remains on to of him, and Soul has the fleeting need to kiss her one more time, but she pushes off him and leaves.

His lips tingle from the feel of hers on his which is weird considering the amount of times they've kissed before. They kiss during sex, make out when they're wrapped in each other's arms, and just about any chance they get really. It was a normal part of their sexual relationship - the friends with benefits relationship, he reminds himself. Yet, this kiss was different. It was spontaneous and light and sincere and made him feel even more in love with her; things that relate to a real relationship.

But if that is true then…

Shaking his head, Soul brushes the thought away.

Maka doesn't love him. Not like that, at least. And it's best if he doesn't dwell on it for long and get his hopes up because when it dwindles down to it, this entire situation is about sex.

Nothing else.

Maka spends the entirety of the drive to the restaurant replaying the kiss she gave Soul over and over.

In the moment, she hadn't been thinking. She had done what she believed was the right thing to do after their little tryst and light banter and conversation, but now, sitting in her car, she's having second thoughts because the truth of the matter is that they aren't together. The kiss was uncalled for; it was something couples did before one left the house as a reminder for the other they loved them. Maka and Soul aren't together, no matter how much her heart bigged her to be with him. They're friends - best friends - who are helping each other out sexually. Nothing more, nothing less.

This entire thing between them is about sex. And nothing else.

Just sex.

"What's got your panties in a twist?" Liz asks after their waitress walks away with their drink orders. When Maka doesn't answer save for a blink and a confused look, Liz elaborates. "You haven't said a thing since we sat down. Usually you comment on my attire which you haven't done at all, and I'm wearing a low cut top with my boobs practically out. So, tell me, what's wrong?"

She opens her mouth to tell her friend nothing's wrong and chastise her about her top not being suitable for a family friendly restaurant, but decides better of it. Honestly, Maka isn't in the mood to talk about the proper cut for a shirt or about children learning how to respect a woman who's comfortable in her own skin. What she most wants to talk about is the situation with Soul except Liz doesn't know about Maka screwing around with her best friend. What she wants to talk about are ways to tell Soul she loves him without scaring him away. What she wants to talk about is Soul.

Sighing, Maka glances at Liz beneath her bangs. Maybe she doesn't have to tell her friend the whole truth.

"Remember how you told me I should get laid?" Maka says, her voice above whisper.

Liz's eyes widen and her grin is predatory as she says, "Please don't tell me you and Soul are finally fucking each other!"

A deep blush burns over Maka's cheeks and her heart stops. "What?! No! No. Not him. I… I found someone else."

Her friend's face goes from disappointed scowl to gleeful smile in a split second. "Well, it's a start I guess. It should be Soul, but I'm sure that'll happen down the road." Liz places her hands over Maka's. "I'm just glad my best friend finally got some cock in her!"

"Liz! Language," Maka says, glancing at the other patrons in hopes no one is listening.

Lucky for her, the restaurant isn't as packed as it normally is.

"This is huge!" Liz continues, ignoring Maka. "I never thought I'd see the day Maka Albarn finally loses her virginity! So, who is this mystery boyfriend of yours?"

"He isn't my boyfriend, exactly. We're more like…" Maka chews on her bottom lip for a second. "It's more like we're… Friends with benefits?"

"Oh my god! Maka Albarn!" Liz says, her face in a state of shock. "You actually listened to my advice and found someone to fuck on the side? Well, this is definitely news."

"You don't have to say it so vulgar." Maka sips her drink, chewing on the straw when she finishes and tapping her foot on the floor. "And it's not like this is some huge discovery or anything-"

"Yes, it is. Given your history with boys, I think you finding someone to screw around with is pretty huge, and a monumental life-changing thing. So who is he?"

"That isn't important," Maka waves off. "I'd rather not talk about the sexual aspect of our relationship. I wanted to ask you something else."

"Shoot," Liz says, pressing painted red lips to her drink. "What do you wanna ask?"

Maka fiddles with her hands beneath the table and tugs at her skirt as she tries to find the right words to phrase things. She can't come all out about who she's sleeping with because Liz will hound her phone for days on end telling Maka the obvious which she doesn't want. Her and Soul are friends despite Maka's feelings for the boy, and no amount of confessing will ever prove that. She also can't downright ask Liz how to deal with her feelings for a boy she's sleeping with because that too will make things obvious. Liz may be blonde, but she's far from being stupid. The girl graduated college cum laude and had always been too smart for her own good.

Finally, Maka settles on a question that's been irritating her since the beginning.

"How do you have sex without feelings getting in the way?" Maka asks. It's simple enough, and maybe her friend's advice can help her wrangle her emotions for Soul.

Liz's pale blue eyes scan over her, study her, but Maka can't read what her friend is thinking. She has the same stoic look Soul has when he's trying to act aloof and uncaring. The only difference is Liz has a better grasp on hers than he does. She's been practicing the resting bitchface since she was in diapers and, given her background from living on the streets most of her life, she knew how to keep her poker face in tact. It's an incredible talent, one Maka wishes she herself had since she wears her emotions on her sleeve most days.

A minute later, her friend purses her lips and shrugs.

"Not sure if it'll work out for you, but I never find any problem not falling in love with the guy - or gal - I'm screwing around with. I guess for you, all I can say is be honest with the guy you're sleeping with. If you love him, tell him. Especially if it starts getting in between you two. You don't want something like this to blow up in your face."

The way Liz says it alerts Maka's inner tuition. Cold creeps down her spine at the thought of her friend possibly knowing who she's sleeping with and understanding the situation without saying so in too many words. But her gaze remains dull and lifeless making it hard for Maka to determine if her feeling is wrong or right. Before she can dwell further on it, though, Liz waves a hand.

"I'm sure whatever you decide, things will turn out fine between you and this mystery guy." Liz's mouth tucks up into a feline-like smile as she says, "I'm just glad you're no longer a virgin."

"Thanks. I guess," Maka says with a small pout.

It isn't entirely helpful to her situation, but she'll take it.

No matter what happens between her and Soul - no matter how much she loves him - things will turn out alright in the end. She's Maka Albarn. Things have to turn out fine. They just have to.

"Anyways, I didn't invite you out to talk about boys. They're taking control of everything, and they don't need to be the centerpoint of our conversation." Liz says, resting back in her chair. "Have you watched the newest season of Game of Thrones yet?"

Soul's in the middle of writing out a song when he's startled by his phone buzzing, almost falling out his chair. He glares at the bright screen to see who's disturbing him to read his brother's pristine name written in white font flashing across the front. Wesley Evans. A groan escapes from him of its own accord as he answers it.

"What do you want?" he growls in greeting.

"Ah, there's my glorious ray of sunshine brother," Wes says. "Who pissed in your Cheerios this morning?"

"No one. I'm in the middle of writing a song, and your call disturbed me."

"Glad to see you picked something up from our father other than his sharp wit."

"If you called to talk about dad, I don't wanna hear it." Soul quickly adds, "Or mom."

"Don't worry. I didn't call to talk about either of them. I was calling to see how my baby brother's doing since I haven't heard from him in a while. How are things going for you?"

"Same as the last time we spoke. Still working as a high school teacher, haven't sold a piece to anyone, and on the weekends I work over at the jazz club."

His brother voices his praise, asks if there's anything else new in Soul's life, and an image of Maka flashes in his mind. If there's anyone Soul can ask for advice, it would be Wes. Lord knows his brother has more experience than him when it dealt with women… or any type of romance for that matter. Though, truth be told, he isn't too fond of asking Wes of all people for this type of advice since he's experience with giving sound advice in the past is minimal. Very minimal.

"I need some… girl advice, actually," Soul mumbles into the receiver.

"I think I can help you there." Wes' smug smirk practically vibrates over the receiver. "Mom and Dad didn't name me Wesley Theodore Evans for nothing because the ladies, they do adore me."

"How long did it take you to come up with that one?"

"Since the day I was born, little brother."

"Whatever," Soul groans. "What I need to know is what does it mean when a girl kisses you after sex?"

Silence feels the other end, and Soul has to check to see if he didn't accidentally hang up on Wes before his brother responds.

"Usually it means she really likes you and enjoys your company… Do you have a girlfriend you aren't telling me about, little brother?"

Soul blanches and stumbles over his words as he says, "No-not exactly. I mean, kinda, but also not really. We aren't together or anything in the romantic sense. It's more like we-we-we've been screwing around together. It's not funny, Wesley."

It takes Wes a moment to respond between his laughter on the other line, and Soul starts to regret ever confiding in his brother about his current situation. Why he thought Wes would be helpful about this, he doesn't know. He does make a mental note to remember this moment and never confide in his brother ever again.

"Are you done yet?" Soul growls when Wes' laughter dies down.

Wes sighs. "Let me guess, you're screwing around with Maka, aren't you?"

His brother's ability to hit the nail on the head is impeccable, though, annoying.

"How'd you know?"

"Little brother, I hate to tell you this, but I know you. You've been in love with that girl since you two graduated from college, maybe even longer, and if you are indeed screwing around with her, you need to stop."

The tone Wes says it in scares Soul the most. It's his serious tone he reserves for situations when matters are significant and important and alerts Soul to listen to him.

"You aren't like me," Wes continues. "You can't just fuck a girl without any emotions getting bunched in the mix of it, and if you're screwing Maka, a girl you're in love with, you're gonna end up hurt in the end."

"And how do you expect me to do that? By telling her I love her? What if she doesn't love me back?"

"Then you stop being her friend," Wes tells him matter-of-factly.

Soul's heart drops to his stomach, and he knows right away he'd rather do anything except that. Screwing around with Maka with no real relationship in sight is better than not being friends with her.

"But," Wes continues, "I highly doubt that'll happen since she's in love with you too."

"I doubt that," Soul mumbles more to himself.

"Won't know until you try."

He doesn't say anything while he mulls over his brother's words. A part of him knows Wes is right, but another part of him is scared of admitting his feelings for Maka. She had already said they were only doing this as friends because neither of them felt anything more for the other, and that was proof enough for, right?

"Thanks for the advice, but I gotta let you go. I really need to-"

"By the way," Wes cuts in, "can I bring my cat to you next weekend? I'm going out of town for a concert, and I can't bring her with me."

"That's the real reason you called, isn't it?"

"You know me so well, little brother."

Maka takes a sip from the Jack Daniel's wine cooler Soul had given her as she reads the subtitles displayed on the screen before them. Soul had preordered the newest season of Game of Thrones since they can't afford the cable bundle with HBO, and she's thankful he did. She doesn't get the luxury of subtitles when she tries to watch the show bootleg on her laptop which doesn't last long since Game of Thrones is one of the biggest shows on TV to date and any illegal copy of the show gets removed from the internet in a snap. So Soul preordering a show he doesn't much care for is a blessing.

She presses herself closer to Soul who slides his arm around her waist to pull her in closer. His thumb rests on the skin of her thigh, inches away from the hem of her sleep shorts, and draws lazy circles there. It doesn't take Maka long to feel heat settle in her lower abdomen and naughty thoughts to float to the forefront of her mind. Taking another swig of her drink, she tries to focus on the Dothraki speaking to Daenerys rather than Soul's hand.

Her attempts are futile, though.

"God these guys are dicks," Soul says as the Dothraki leader tells Daenerys he's going to let his men gangbang her and then give her to the horses for them to fuck her as well. "They talk to her like she's nothing. Don't they know she has dragons?"

"I think they failed to listen to that part," Maka smiles. "But you're concern for her is cute."

Soul glances at her before taking a drink of his own wine cooler, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. "It bothers me when guys talk to girls like that is all. It doesn't mean anything."

"You're starting to like this show, aren't you?"

"I need to watch the earlier seasons, but it's cool. I guess," he says nonchalantly, but Maka's grin widens being someone who can read Soul like a book.

"Maybe we can watch other other seasons after we finish this one, and then maybe you can read the books-"

"I'm not reading any dumb books," he cuts in with a glare. "I'll leave the reading to you. Aren't these books thick as fuck, anyways?"

"Mhm," Maka hums. "Thicker than the Harry Potter series, and George R.R. Martin takes forever to release a book. He'll probably die before the series ends."

"All the more reason not to read the books." He takes another drink and nods to the TV. "Shouldn't that burn her?"

"Fire cannot kill a dragon," Maka says, repeating one of the most well known lines in the entire series. "Have you not been paying attention?"

"What does that mean?"

"Right. You didn't watch the first season," she says more to herself. "Daenerys is a descendant from the House Targaryen who used to have dragons before they were all killed and believed to be extinct. But then it turned out Daenerys is capable of giving dragons new life after she's given three dragon eggs at her wedding. That's why they call her the mother of dragons, and with being the mother of dragons, she can't be harmed by fire."

His hand moves on her thigh, and her breath hitches which Soul thankfully doesn't hear. If he does, he doesn't react.

"I think I should probably watch the earlier seasons. This girl is pretty badass," he says, nodding at the TV as Daenerys sets the room full of Dothraki men on fire and walks out of the blaze unscathed. "I like her."

"And she has dragons," Maka points out. "That makes her even more badass."

Soul snorts. "So girls are into dragons?"

"What?" she asks, turning to face him. "You thought only boys can like dragons?"

"No. Just didn't depict you as the kinda girl who liked dragons."

"I'm full of surprises," she says with a smile.

He turns to face her, a small grin on his face and retort dancing on the tip of his tongue, but it falls when he practically bumps his nose against hers. When they had grown so close to each other in the span of an hour, she isn't sure, but her heart stumbles in her chest at the realization. She hates how her eyes dart down to his mouth and how her tongue flicks out to wet her own. Maybe it's the slight buzz of alcohol in her system or Soul's warm hand on her bare thigh that makes the desire burn brighter within her.

Whatever it is, his low, gruff voice only makes things worse.

"That you are," he says.

The end credits of the episode fill the space of their living room, but neither of them move to switch to the next one. They remain staring at each other, the faint smell of alcohol mingling in the air between them, and their breathing warm and hot. Gently placing her hand over his jaw, Maka rubs her thumb over it to find he hasn't shaved in a day or two; definitely since the last time they had sex. But something about it sets her mind to grow muddy and dark as she pulls him down towards her.

Maka feels him shudder as she strokes her thumb along his chin once more and his gaze darkens. His tongue flicks out to wet his own lips, ghosting against hers in the process, and she relaxes.

"How many have you had?" Maka asks, hoping he understands she means the alcohol.

"Two. You?"

"Same."

His hand on her thigh slides down so that it hooks the underside of her knee and moves her so that she's sitting in his lap. The warmth in her lower abdomen melts into a cool liquid and her heartbeat quickens. She threads the hand not on his jaw into his hair and tugs him closer to her until he's less than an inch away from her and she feels his body heat wrap around her like a blanket. Anticipation builds inside her when he swallows and his mouth brushes against hers.

"So I take it it's okay to kiss you?" he asks.

Her heart stutters at the question, and she closes the distance between them in answer.

Soul languidly kisses her, sucking in a deep breath as he does. His hands tighten their hold on her as she buries her other hand in his hair, tasting him as her tongue slips into his mouth. He moans and lifts his hips slightly off the couch at the feel of her, and it takes everything inside her not to rip their clothes off immediately. Heat boils against her skin as his hands roam her body, sliding under clothes and touching her bare breasts and teasing her nipples. She gasps and arches her back into his touch.

Those piano hands of his knead her breasts and twirl her nipples in their grasp while his mouth kisses and sucks on her neck. A part of her hates how well he knows her, how he doesn't need to hesitate or seek permission if something feels good to her. He just knows. But another, much larger part of her loves it, drowns herself in it, and finds it utterly intoxicating. She loves the feel of his calloused fingers on her smooth skin and his body heat scorching her with every touch.

Somehow, she ends up with her shirt pulled up and his mouth covering her breast as his tongue flicks and licks her nipples. She moans and arches her back, gasping when his teeth leave bites on the underside of her breasts while his hand slides along the slit of her pussy and teases her. His cheeky grin burns her when he feels how wet she is, and she lightly slaps him and curses his name for the comment he gives her (God, you're wetter than normal).

Not long afterward, he leaves to get a condom, and Maka idolizes her time wisely by discarding her panties and shorts.

When Soul comes back, he's surprised to see a half naked Maka on the couch, but he doesn't argue with it. His cock only twitches where it rests in his pants hot with desire and need while his heart pounds against his chest. Maka does quick work with his pants and boxers when he gets closer and practically snatches the condom from him as he unwraps it.

"Eager, aren't we?" he teases.

"Shut up," she mutters.

He doesn't get a chance to respond as her hand grips his cock and she slides the condom over him. The only sound he emits is a deep, low moan, his eyes fluttering at the sensation. Secretly, he hates how he aches and cries for her touch when they aren't fucking or fooling around or how he always finds he has his dirtiest thoughts when she wears shorts. Anything that shows off her legs, to be perfectly honest. Those sinful, long legs he loves to have wrapped around his waist.

Maka tugs him down onto the couch, her legs on either side of him and a devilish grin on her face. She's the last person in the world he would have expected to be so sex hungry, but he doesn't complain.

Soul kisses her forehead, the side of her cheek, and saves her lips for last. She moans as he slowly slides his cock inside her and waits for her to adjust to his size before thrusting out and back in. Her hands press flat against his chest like she's bracing herself, her moans soft as they sound from her throat, and he kisses and nibbles the pinkened flesh there, amazed at the girlish noises he draws from her. He loves the sounds he draws from her, ones that rival the songs he writes and creates on his piano because he's tried so long to etch her into a song.

There are about a dozen or so pieces he's written in his notebook that have been for her or about her. They all hold a piece of her and the emotions he feels for. Songs that range from love to sadness to happiness to simply him trying to capture her essence into something to make his love for her real and tangible. But nothing he'll ever write or hear will compare to Maka. She's a symphony in her own right; a symphony he's fine with keeping all for himself.

Nails dig into his back, alerting him to her orgasm, and he grips her hips as he buries his face in the crook of her neck. His thrusts quicken as she moans out his name (a raw, throaty cry he wishes to play over and over again like an old favorite song). It's another second or two, after her walls tighten around him, that he finds in his own release. Her name gets lodged in him as his orgasm hits, but it doesn't prevent something else from escaping him. Something he has no control of.

"Fuck," he breathes out, kissing her, "I love you."

His body steals on top of her, eyes wide as he waits for her to respond, but nothing.

Maka stays quiet beneath him save for her heavy breathing. He feels her heart thumping against his chest as he relaxes on top of her, and he assumes - hopes - she didn't hear him. Even when he slides out of her and rises, she doesn't say a word. All she does is smile and quickly kiss his cheek before escaping to the bathroom first, telling him to start the episode over again since they missed half of it. Soul sighs and runs a hand through his hair.

"Thank god she didn't hear," Soul says to himself.

In the bathroom, Maka grips the sides of the sink and stares at her flushed reflection. Soul's confession runs over and over in her head as fear rises like bile in her throat; hot and thick. She tries to flip his words every which way, excusing his actions for superficial reasons she knows are true, but her heart refuses to listen. It's happy and excited over Soul's words, the small 'I love you' he whispered against her skin, but her mind tells her to run away and end everything.

Nothing good ever comes with sex mixed with love.

Especially when the words are said by someone who isn't more than anything but a friend.

"What do I do?" she asks her reflection, though, it's useless.