Tumblr word prompt (one of my faves) by fabulousanima.
flabbergasted: surprise greatly, astonish.
The first time he ever saw her perform, riding her red horse like a coming storm, he missed a note, and he had thought at the time that such a misstep was bad enough. The fourth time he saw her perform, though, something even worse happened.
She entered the ring with a flourish, Aka moving beneath her like they were one, and the crowd roared approval. He trilled out a quick drumroll-esque entrance song for her without even thinking, matching his notes to the swift steps of her horse, watching her the entire while and thanking the god he didn't believe in that he was good enough to play blind. It would have been nearly impossible to tear his eyes away from her. She was too beautiful, too fey, and the sight of her bare thighs straddling the leather of her saddle did something tight and hot to his insides.
He kept playing, riffing the classics for her as she flipped backwards and nudged Aka into a full-blown gallop, spraying the front row of the audience with sand. They ate it up. He heard a distant roar outside, one of Blair's lions, and his fingers automatically tapped out a deep and dreadful chord.
Maka's eyes met his through his scarlet mask as she came around the ring again, wickedly alight with adrenaline, and when she tore her gaze away, he finally managed to notice that she was matching her movements to his music.
Soul's fingers crashed down on the keys like a tsunami; Maka threw her hands up and sent Aka skidding to a stop before wheeling around to mock-charge the audience. He played an eerie pounding sequence like an enraged heart, and she curved backwards and forwards with a sensual rhythm that put lava in his marrow. He slowed the melody to a dainty, otherwordly tinkling, and she slowed her horse, until he was prancing practically in place, knees rising flashily almost up to his chest, while she hung miraculously off the saddle, one taut pale leg slung over the proud arch of Aka's chestnut mane.
His mouth was dry and the power he felt as she matched his every keystroke was far past intoxicating. She gave a languid little shake in perfect time to his impromptu cadenza and the sheer melody of her movements drove him wild.
He rushed on, faster, hands flying across the ivories, and the golden girl and the red horse moved with him, but after a moment the uneasy murmurings of the crowd alerted him to just how harsh his music had become. Maka kneed Aka to the edge of the ring and swept by, shooting him a worried glance, but he couldn't seem to stop himself, and she was still moving to the music.
But then she stilled down, body wilting down like a flower in autumn, and somehow it was now his hands obeying her, because the music calmed too, relaxing into a more sedate melody. She slid sideways across the saddle and hung over it, back arched, and when her face was hidden from the crowd, she flashed him a proud and lovely smile.
He managed to control himself with the memory of that smile for the rest of the night, even after she and her horse swept out of the ring to thunderous applause. When he was done, he gave his faithful piano a quick pat and marched out to the horses. Maka was there, of course, tossing a pitchfork full of hay to Tsubaki's palomino with characteristic strength.
"Hello," he said roughly, a little afraid of what she might say. She wasn't anywhere near stupid enough to miss the strange dance they'd been doing, nor the viciousness leaking through his music.
But she just smiled at him and raised her brows. "That was fun, wasn't it?" she said impishly. He squinted carefully at her face in the dim light and was entirely flabbergasted to learn that she meant it. She had loved it, loved performing to his songs, loved influencing his hands. It hadn't frightened her at all.
"I suppose," was all he got out, but the quiet curve of her lips was proof enough of her understanding.