Day 9: Desire

Soul 'Eater' Evans was the master of controlling desire. He had lived with parents whose backs were straighter than a line and could whip someone into shape with just words. At that time, he had hated how he had to control the urge to slouch or eat sweets or pull the collar of his dress suit. He hated having to push down the urge to do something he desperately wanted to do.

Until now.

Growing up with a girl that had no relation to you other than the word partner could make one scream. Soul could not believe how incredibly stupid it was. He was going through puberty and his best friend slash meister was the one he shared his very thin walled apartment with.

Fuck him. Oh shinigami, he was absolutely going to die if she didn't start wearing jeans because shorts and skirts killed him whenever she wore them.

He understood why only she had that kind of affect on him, he had understood after she had complimented his music and after he had a breakdown at school thinking about his now dead father when she listened to him and all those other times she was just there for him. He had fallen deeply in love with the girl, as a friend at first. Then... Bam, puberty.

He was familiar with how his body worked, thanks to the awkward talk Sid had given to the guys in the EAT class. He knew what wet dreams were and how bonded worked and about masturbation. He also knew about morning wood. He had a penis.

And it was incredibly filled with blood at the moment.

"Get up, Soul!"

"Leave me alone!"

"If you don't get up, I'll make you get up!"

His eyes widened in fear. "Okay! I'll get up! But you have to leave!"

"Why? So you can go back to sleep?" Maka put her hands on her hips and rose an eyebrow. Damn that girl and her stubbornness.

"I swear, you have no idea what I'm going through right now. You realize that I'm a guy and it's a morning, don't you?!" He finally said it, cheeks flaring red.

"I don't care about your morning wood, just get up!"

Soul looked at her in surprise. She had absolutely no fear, her cheeks weren't red from embarrassment. She just looked incredibly angry.

"Get up."

"Yes ma'am," he managed to squeak.

He would not tell her that he had awoken from a dirty dream that included her. He would not tell her how good she felt in the dream. He would not kiss her. And finally, he would absolutely not tell her how he loved her. He would not tell her she had him wrapped around her pinky.

But God, he wanted to kiss her so bad.