Thanks for stopping by for another installment. Warning: graphic sex.

I'm Maka Albarn and I can totally do this is the moment's current mantra. I'm also Maka Albarn, and I'm naked in Soul's bed, trying to play it cool. He's not even here, having left for the gym what seems like hours ago, which means any minute now he should be coming back. I'm Maka Albarn and if he isn't here like this minute I'm probably going to chicken out and- and I'm already in the doorway to his room because my bravery, my adventure, is ditching me when I hear the click of the door and his signature, "Yo!"

"Hi!" I squeak, already retreating back to his bed, pulling the sheet up to my chin. Looks like I've made this bed and I'm going to have to lie in it. Ha, ha, ha, kill me, please. And to be honest, I don't know why I've still held onto that stupid stuff from when we were kids, when he would call me flat-chested, or no butt, or any myriad of other prepubescent bullshit. Every time we fool around, he's always eager to touch them, to talk to me about what he likes about them, even though technically he's never even seen, just touched under my clothing. He's come up with some inventive ways, but… I knew I could only kite him for so long.

I can hear his footsteps starting in the hallway, "I'm just going straight to the shower. Black Star kicked my ass today." And he walks right by his room, not even glancing, thank goodness.

"O-ok," I'm stuttering, pulling the sheet closer, waiting for his steps to recede all the way down the hallway to the bathroom.

But they stop, pause, and then suddenly back up, bringing him back in the view of his doorway. "Uh, Maka, what are you-?"

"Nothing!" I gulp.

"Why are you in my bed?"

"Go take your damn shower!"

My yell causes him to physically jolt and he takes a step back. "Yeah, ok." I can tell by the look on his face he knows this is fishy, but he doesn't seem to know how fishy so I just glare until he disappears from view. I hear the bathroom door shut, the shower start to run, and I'm pretty sure my heart is going to explode.

Okay, Maka, are you going to be a chicken? Really? You made it this far and… I lift the sheet, letting it billow and hover for a moment over my body. It's no more Maka-no-tits, they're definitely there, a full C, sometimes a D cup depending on the bra. I even, oh, God, saying this is hard, but I even trimmed the curls of blond hair that cover my lower, you know, because even though I couldn't bring myself to shave it, it should at least look neat. So it all looks fine, right? I guess I don't even know how it's supposed to look, really, and Soul has said more than once that if it's attached to me he's into it, but there's still so much doubt and agony.

And that's what I'm doing, relaxing naked in my boyfriend's bed, drowning in doubt and agony while he takes a nice, hot, long, way too fucking long shower. And that eternity of a shower ticks away until I hear the water turn off, the door creak, his soft padding down the hallway. He walks right into the room like he owns the place (you're right, it's his room) and stands at the foot of the bed. "You here to watch?" His smirk is way too wide as he tugs playfully at the towel around his waist.

I can feel my cheeks growing hot. It doesn't matter how many times I look at him, I could look forever at the cut of his stomach, the muscles across shoulders that have broadened into a man's, and that amazing curve of his ass in just about any pair of pants he wears. Honestly, I do want to watch, and I envy the fact that he has the confidence to want me to watch. "Don't, just don't get dressed."

"Oh?" More smirk and I can see his towel already starting to raise, that little perv. "What are you doing in there, anyway?" He takes another step closer and his eyes widen a little and it seems like it's finally dawning on him. "Are you…?"

"Yes," I murmur, trying to relax my grip on the sheet.

"Awesome, Maka, that's great!" As if he's congratulating me on some new move, but it's sweet the excitement.

"You're just excited because I'm, I'm naked."

He laughs, running a hand through his hair because he knows that drives me crazy. "Well, that, yeah, but it also means I'm doing something right. I want you to be comfortable with me." That signature Soul smirk morphs into his beautiful smile, something I don't think has graced his face anywhere other than this room right now. So when he leans down and tugs on the bedsheet, I throw my hands up in mock surrender, letting him slowly pull the sheet back to expose me bit by bit. His smile is fading into halfway between awe and hunger. "Oh, fuck, Maka."

"Very eloquent." I'm resisting the urge to use my hands to cover up whatever dignity I have left.

He puts one knee on the bed like he's fighting with himself to take it slow. "This kind of beauty makes it hard to think straight, let alone talk."

I know I'm practically so red I might be mistaken for a tomato at this point, but a little bit of confidence is starting to blossom. "Oh, yeah?" I cup my breast and absently run over the nipple with my thumb.

"Fuck…" He's kneeling on the bed now and he lets his towel fall off of him, it almost comically hanging on his already stiff member for a second before he tosses it aside. "Turn over," his voice is low and husky, almost out of breath.

Ok, so that ounce confidence starts to waver since I never considered my backside in this equation but he's also never spoken to me in that voice before, it's a real command from someone who usually just goes with the flow. I hesitate but do as I'm asked, rolling away from the edge of the bed, trying to take a peek at his face over my shoulder. I can feel him moving on the bed and a hand glides up my leg, stopping to cup the cheek. His hand slips away but comes back, surprising me with a little slap, just enough to make a sound but not enough to necessarily hurt.

"Hey-" I start to argue but I'm cut off by his body weight smooshing into me, sending me almost faceplanting into the bed.

"Maka, you're really amazing," he whispers in my ear, making my heart skip a beat.

But I'm also about to be really dead since he's a heavy grown man and I don't know why he acts like he's still built like a fourteen-year-old.

He finally rolls off, falling on his back next to me, his hand coming up to clear the hair from my face. "I'm really sorry."

"Huh?" I'm still recovering from the smoosh but that worried look in his eyes, the anxiety that's suddenly hidden away all that drooling excitement has me flustered.

"I feel like… well, I did that to you, didn't I? With all the stupid shit I used to say when we were kids, you know, about the way you looked." He pulls his hand away and puts it on his chest, his eyes wandering over his scar, ashamed to even look at me. "I was stupid and I just wanted to protect myself from getting hurt. If I could make you think I didn't even like you, there was no way you'd be able to reject me. It was easier just being in a little pain of not having you than having the big pain of you saying there wasn't a chance. But I left you in a lot of pain, didn't I?"

"Maybe a little." I couldn't lie for his comfort, especially since a lot of those phrases burned to memory ran through my head during his shower time. He's right, it did hurt, but there's something in the fact that he realizes it. But part of it's me, too, and I have to admit that. "And maybe a little of my own fear of rejection. If you don't see it, I'll never know that you don't like it." I slip my fingers under his hand on his chest, smiling as he squeezes. "I didn't want to lose you either."

"You were stuck with me whether I was seeing it or not," his laugh vibrated under my fingers, "But I definitely, definitely appreciate the view. Mind showing me the front again?"

I rolled back, pulling him with me. He was careful this time to avoid the full body weight, just leaning again my side. Without another word, his head dips and he uses his right hand to bring my breast to his mouth, his tongue teasing at my nipple. While hands are nice for pinching and tweaking, the feeling of his tongue rolling over the tip, of his lips latching and sucking is almost too much for me.

Soul detaches and sits back a little, "Move over here a little." He slides a firm hand under my buttcheek, angling my legs towards him. That hand slips up, grasping the back of my thigh, his other hand doing the same on the opposite, and he starts to finally move my legs apart. I barely feel like there is air in the room. We are naked, so naked, and he's seeing that part of me that I barely want to give a name to, but there is it, in all of it's trimmed glory, my pussy. I could just die.

And this is where my fear is. In the past, we'd promised no sex, none, until it was explicitly said by me. I didn't really want to shoulder that burden, but Soul doesn't have the ability not to be honest, and he's made it clear that sex is something he'd want with me, anytime, anywhere. In other words, I'm holding us back. As of this morning, my body was holding us back. Now that that's clear, or getting there, what's the only thing keeping us from the last hurdle other than scaredy-cat Maka?

"Hey, earth to Maka. You OK?"

I snap out of my new panic spiral and let out a deep breath. "Yeah, are you OK?"

"That's a silly question." I feel his thumb run down the line between my legs, teasing at my opening. "Are you ready? I'm going to show you why my middle name's Eater."

I can't stop myself from bursting into laughter. "That's the cheesiest-" Air hitches in my lungs, killing my laughs and my admonishment, as his tongue retraces the line he just made. I can't even process that sensation before his tongue flirts with my opening before moving frontward, lapping at my clit. I can already feel the wave starting, that slow rise making my legs tremble. I'm letting the moans roll off my tongue as he twirls his faster. The next moan is embarrassingly loud as he slides two fingers into me, rocking them in and out as his tongue keeps pressing circles into my clit. I sink my hands into his hair and see that he's so engrossed in his rhythm and damn, that is just so hot. That feeling is creeping in my stomach. I can't leave my fingers in his hair for fear I'm about to pull some out because my toes are curling and I know what's coming, so I clutch at the sheets, letting the sounds erupt from my throat.

God, I really hope the neighbors aren't home because even with all the soundproofing in the world the next three apartments might still hear me.

With a few more half agonizing licks, Soul sits back up, grabbing the discarded towel to clear some of the fluid from his face. He's fucking beaming, that dumb smile back on his face, as he crashes back to the bed at my side, a hand hooking around my waist.

"That was the cheesiest line," I repeat, my breathing still half ragged.

"Yeah, but was I wrong?"

"Nope." I relax my trembling legs and press my forehead to his. "Give me a minute and you're next."

"Take your time," his voice is still brimming with pride. He propped himself up, his hand gliding from my waist up to the curve of my breast. I realized he was looking at me, almost studying the curves, the textures of my skin, his eyes flitting downward as his hand slid to my pelvis bone. "Maka, did I tell you before that you're beautiful? Please tell me I did because it would be a travesty otherwise."

"Soul…"

"I mean it. Can you just walk around the apartment like this all the time? I mean, I won't get anything done and we won't be able to have guests anymore but that's just a small price to pay." He lightly feathered his lips over mine, barely giving me a kiss through my giggles. "Hey, how about we forget about me for right now and try round two for you."

"Round two?" My legs seemed to tremble in disagreement but that hand that was roaming lower and lower was starting to make me think otherwise.

"Yeah, my fingers didn't get enough of a workout."

"What about a third option?" I try my best to dish out the sultry voice and it seems to work, his eyebrows raising.

"Oh? Do tell." Again, Soul is almost drooling, probably thinking of another use for his hands or his tongue.

I lose the vixen voice and hear the sheepishness push through, "I bought condoms." And that kind of derails any working neural signals for Soul for a good five seconds. I poke his arm to try to jumpstart some life. "I put them in your drawer."

His eyes roam over to the bedside table and then back to me as if both might be a figment of his imagination. "Maka, you sure?"

"You said it was my call. I wouldn't have bought them if I wasn't sure." Which may be a little bit of a lie. I bought them pretty terrified, sure that if I ran into anyone I knew while purchasing them it would mean having to move to another country.

"Yeah, but, really, are you sure?" It's not an exciting sound in his voice, more bordering on worrying, anxious as he looks over every inch of my face like he's trying to find the seam of a mask.

"Yes." I'm sure some people might argue that you can't be one hundred percent sure about anything, but I'm pretty sure this is one of those moments where I am. I'm looking into those ruby red eyes lined with love and concern for me, that scraggly white hair that I made a mess of while Soul was giving me a pleasure I hadn't even dreamed of, that crookedly smiling mouth that always kissed me with such reckless abandon and it just hits me that yeah, there's no reason not to.

Soul finally sits up after lingering over my answer and climbs onto the other side of the bed, swinging his legs over the edge. His back is to me and I can tell he's thinking again, so I reach out my hand and graze down his spine. This jump-starts him back to the drawer, opening it, taking out the box. Another pause, only to be broken by his laugh, "Maka, economy size?"

"It was a better deal," I grumble, poking him.

"No, don't lie." He throws a smile at me over his shoulder. "You just know once you get me started…"

"Ugh, don't finish that sentence." This time I punctuate it with a kick.

Soul rips open the box and pulls out a string of condoms, ripping one off. It's in his hand as he climbs back onto the bed, moving to pin me underneath him. His face hovers over mine, studying my face. "I want you to know this is important to me. I didn't just give the choice to you because I don't care. This isn't just… this is a big deal."

"Yeah, it is," I surprise him by giving him a kiss on the nose. "That's why I'm only doing it with you."

He snorts out a laugh, "Only with me, huh?"

"You're the only person I've trusted enough, ever. Now stop wasting time."

"Yes, ma'am." But Soul being Soul starts to waste time anyway, but in a good sort of way, slowing down to kiss me like we're back at our first-ever makeout sessions and there isn't anything else to do but kiss. He doesn't even know it, or maybe he does, but he's making me even more ready to love him, to trust him with this. Even when given the choice, he slows down, never in a rush, and makes sure he does it right. "Ok," he breathes out and rolls off of me, examining the packaging as if it's a bomb before ripping as gently as can be.

Even though he seems to know the motions, Soul's eyebrows are knitted as he slips the latex down his shaft. It's an art, I guess, and I'm glad it doesn't look like he's mastered it. "Ok," he repeats and now I'm sure it's not for me. I get a little deja vu as he repositions me, gliding my legs apart with a lot less resistance and nervousness on my part at least. "I'm going to go slow," again, not necessarily a message totally for me.

I reach out and bring his face back to mine, looking into that crimson gaze. "I'm ready."

Soul smiles, "Yeah, me, too." I can feel the pressure of his tip, and it feels like fire as he starts to glide into me. It's like when you stand to close to the flame, that warmth feels good but it makes your skin feel raw, not really pain but making you more aware that it exists, that there's a space inside me that he's filling. "Maka…" My name blends into a groan as he hits his depth. There's still that tingle, but as he gets to the final part of his thrust I can feel it, a little undulation in me, and it's definitely not a bad thing. Before I can really explore the feeling he starts trying to set himself into a rhythm, forcing himself slow at first as promised.

But he hits that spot again and I can't stop myself from moaning. I should note that my noises, no matter how ridiculous I find them, always seem to do it for him so as soon as my sound escapes my lips, any confidence lost from the newness of the moment is gone. Soul finally stops concentrating on worry and snakes his free hand up my stomach, taking a firm grasp of my breast, his thumb almost instantly rubbing over my nipple. His mouth comes crashing against mine as his thrusts start to reach a fever pitch. That coil in my stomach is winding tight, that spot firing each time he drives into me.

Soul groans into my mouth, his hips jutting out of rhythm. He finally slows but doesn't pull himself from me, instead, he collapses on me for a moment, his head falling into the crook of my neck. "Maka…"

I want to laugh because you know it had to be good if Soul is speechless, but I go with a soft smile, sinking my face in his hair, getting the scent of his mint shampoo. I hold him for a while, my one hand smoothing his hair, my other trailing up and down his side, amusing myself with his goosebumps. I'm almost afraid he's asleep, but he finally plants two firm hands at my side, pulling himself up and out of me. I try not to see it as cold as he rolls away to the end of the bed, disposing of the condom and cleaning himself off, but it's hard when he's not saying anything and his shoulders seem hunched. "Soul…"

"Maka, I… you're going to stay with me, right?"

That sadness in his voice has my heart in my throat. I get myself up from the bed and push against him, throwing my arms around his neck, peeping my head over his shoulder. "I will." I'm starting to wonder if this was another one of those things that he's tried to play it cool about but he's actually not (this would not be the first time). "Why are you worried?"

I can see him trying to have the conversation by himself in his head first, his eye darting back and forth between imaginary Maka and imaginary Soul. "I don't know," he finally erupts from the dream conversation.

I hug him a little tighter and he makes a fake strangle noise. "When you figure it out, we'll talk about it?"

"Yeah." He's still not really smiling but he turns himself enough to hook an arm around my waist, drawing me into his lap without any struggle on my part. It doesn't seem comfortable for him, holding my weight like this, but his hands are grasping at me like he's afraid I'll float away.

My head is resting on his chest, my lips lingering on the skin there, planting an assortment of kisses. There it is, a little bit of a smile starting to creep back, his grip starting to loosen. "Soul, there's something I want."

"Yeah?" His eyebrows raise and he's settling into a smirk.

"Let's try one bed for a while."

He almost seems back to normal, that smirk developing into his signature snide look. "Can't get enough, huh?"

I laugh across his skin, watching him tremble a little at the sensation. "I just want to be closer, OK?"

"Yeah, OK." He tilts his head in, bringing me from the hiding spot on his chest and envelops my lips with his, searching my mouth like he wants to take those words straight from it. I think I'm starting to understand him, that he wants, that he needs, and I'm not sure he had any of that before. He's scared of it, and he's scared of it going away. I think I can work with that.