Maka remembers their first time like it was only yesterday, and well, it was.
The room was dark, as if the moon was never in the sky to look down onto their sins. Maka had pushed Soul through her door and Soul had stumbled over her rug, falling together into the comforts of her bed. She looked into his eyes, her gaze never wavering as she searched for his answer even though she already knew what it was. Soul licked his chapped lips, nodding once, and then twice, and then more and more and more and yes and just yes. If that wasn't enough, he was ready to vocally shout his reply to her, but as he opened his mouth, Maka's found him.
They fell back into each other, their warmth mingling and their hands getting lost in the tumble. Where did Soul end and where did Maka start? Who knows, certainly not the two who found nothing but love with every motion in their bodies.
However, Maka was not a woman to be reckoned with. She had decided that she was going to take one for the team that night, and so she was. Everything was in preparation for the moment, even the stars had aligned for them. Maka's hand slipped down from Soul's hair, to his shoulders, to his elbow, to his wrists, to his hands, stroking his skin with her fingertips and leaving goosebumps in her wake.
Soul was not prepared for the touch of her hand, leading his further down from her neck, to her clavicles, to her chest, to her stomach, and then slipping under her shirt, letting it cup over her heart and the boob above it. He froze, his mouth unresponsive to the kisses still molding together his lips and the squirming beside his body.
Yes, it was the first time that Soul had touched a breast, a tit, a boobie. But he couldn't tell how it really felt. Was it like the birbs where those terms had originated from? Did the chicken breast move the way the human breast did? Was a birb tit as small as this human tit? And the boobie- how many boobies could he touch until it was called a goodie? What was life, what are thoooosssseeeeee?
He didn't know. The world was ending and he was about to die. But if his life was ending, then he would be dying happily, even without the squish of a tit.
Maka squinted at him, wondering when her glorious lumpy would be held the way she wanted, the way she demanded. She was about to chastise him for his inaction, punish him with the flick of her wrist, that is until she registered the look on his face.
Soul had ascended, his chill set in and his cool immortalized.
He had evaporated.