He's going to meet Papa.
Oh, Death, he's going to meet Papa.
I'm just– how? How did I let this happen?
Alright, fine, I know this is normal. This is something couples do, but– but those couples don't have an insane father who can't wrap his head around the concept of boundaries! Who can't be bothered to think logically instead of emotionally. Who can't remember that I am a grown woman and I make my own choices.
And while I thought it was going to be helpful, how is it going to be with Blair there? I– I honestly do like her. I can't lie about that, but– oh, I just thought it was going to be another way to save this from crashing and burning but now– what if it just makes it worse? What if all of this is a powder keg and after all that work– all that vulnerability with Soul– I'm about to just watch it all slip through my fingers?
Soul heard the cars in the driveway but resisted the urge to hover at the door, instead toying with the silverware on the table. He puffed his cheeks before letting a breath flutter over his lips. Okay, you did this to yourself. A sigh followed. Just handle it the way you planned– quiet, calm, and–
The doorbell chimed, forcing his footsteps to the door. The entryway flooded with wintry air as Maka shuffled in, eyes already wide and apologetic as Spirit and Blair followed after. "Hi," she chirped tightly.
"Ah, hey." Soul extended a hand in Spirit's direction, watching him hesitate long enough to eye his fingers before taking it. "Spirit, right?"
"Mr. Albarn," he corrected.
Blair instantly warmed that icy reception with a bubbly laugh before stealing Soul's hand from Spirit. "Oh, he's so silly! Spirit and Blair! Nice to meet you! Maka has such nice things to say about you and your little one."
Soul took her exuberance in turn, waiting for those finely painted nails to release him. Instead, she toyed with his fingers, looking over his palm. "Layla's at a sleepover tonight, so– uh, is something wrong?" He really wanted his hand back, but Blair was squinting at the lines with pursed lips.
"Honey–" Spirit started as he attempted to extricate Soul's hand from Blair.
She swatted him away before prodding one of the lines with a purple nail. "So much tragedy! My poor little kitten!" Before Soul could react, she was pulling him in, engulfing him in a rib-crushing hug.
"Ah–" Soul wide, desperate eyes popped to Maka, finding her staring hard before elbowing her father into action.
"Sugar bear, let's save the love for after you've gotten to know him," Spirit muttered as he put gentle hands on Blair's shoulders.
"Oh!" Blair shot back, flustered wrists flapping her innocence. "I'm so sorry, kitten! I forgot to ask! Maka!" She sang the name sweetly before turning to the woman in question, pulling her and positioning her at Soul's side. "Make sure to give him all the love he deserves!"
Maka's face flushed pink, leaving Soul to chuckle softly as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "You hear that?" She turned pouty lips towards him in reply, and all Soul wanted to do was catch them, but he was sure Mr. Albarn would have too many choice words for that exchange. Instead, Soul left her with a short squeeze before detaching.
"I think it's time for some wine," Maka huffed under her breath before slipping away towards the kitchen, stranding Soul.
"I'll, uh, take your coats?" He offered outstretched arms and thankfully received the pile without much more grumbling or glomping. "Make yourselves comfortable." Soul tossed a chin towards the dining room before making a quick getaway down the hallway. He caught Maka at the sink, a wine glass in hand as she scrubbed away some of the lingering dust. "Ah, sorry. Meant to rinse those."
"It's fine– gives me an outlet for all the 'I'd like to strangle him' energy." To prove her point, the dish sponge squeaked desperately against the already clean goblet.
Soul tossed the coats over one of the stools before coming around to her, his hands searching for the buttons of her peacoat before starting to extricate them. Heat climbed from his neck to his ears as she did nothing to stop him– no chiding for something that struck him as so intimate. He was well aware there were layers underneath her winter coat but the act of undressing her—even just the outer wool—sent a thrilled note reverberating up and down his spine. If we were alone…
"I know, I know, it's not that bad– well, not yet," she continued to mumble as she moved to the next glass, entirely unaware of Soul's sudden bout of daydreaming.
He craned his neck, using those well-honed dad ears to pick up the light smattering of conversation between the couple in the dining room. They seemed engaged enough that he bowed his head, dipping his lips to the winter-cooled skin of her neck as his palms now journeyed into her open coat.
Her breath hitched. "Soul?"
"Just another second," he murmured, drunk on the idea alone of touching her. It wasn't skin beneath his fingertips—just whatever fabric blend of her sweater—but he wanted another tick of the clock to cherish it all the same.
"Soul!" Her hands clapped over his, tensely keeping them in place. "Are you trying to make him angry?"
There was still too much singing joy from that feathery caress for the annoyance of that to take hold. Soul let it amuse him instead as he planted another kiss on her neck. "They're talkin', not payin' attention to us. Not to mention"—he begrudgingly released her—"I was just tryin' to get your mind off that for a second so my glassware would survive." A nice little white lie, he chided himself.
She sighed, a little longer and slower than he expected before turning and pressing two of the cleaned glasses into his now bored hands. "It's fine. It'll be fine."
"Sure." He nodded, offering a smile but catching some kind of wistful look in her eye in reply. He turned that over in his mind as he moved back towards the dining room. Hopefully that's not a white lie too.
There was no violent scrubbing of the last two wine goblets because Maka could barely control her hands. What was he thinking? Her heart went right back to thundering as soon as she even allowed her mind to wander anywhere close to the exchange just moments before. Under her sweater, she was sure ghosts of handprints remained, as if fiery fingers had burned into her skin through the dense layer of fabric. There was a glow that refused to dissipate, and now she had to carry it in front of her papa! She eyed the wine bottle on the counter. I hope he has another one. Grabbing that and the rest of the freshly rinsed glasses, Maka made her way into the dining room.
Blair was already back at Soul's palm, lacquered nail tracing lines as she spouted a few odd tidbits. "This is your lifeline…"
Maka tried to control her frown, that same green-eyed monster threatening to make an appearance. It had started gnawing at her gut when Blair hugged him, but now— while those fine fingers were gently cradled in hers—it was back with a vengeance. "You know, I never heard what you saw in Papa's," Maka interrupted, tasting that bit of pettiness all too well.
Luckily that bitter note was lost on the rest of the table, leaving Blair to easily transition to Spirit's hand as Maka placed the rest of the glasses and began to pour the wine. As the liquid swirled around the globes, Spirit choked out a laugh. "Maybe later, kitty cat. Right now we're trying to get to know the kids, right?"
"Well," Blair replied hesitantly, a slight pout coming to her lip.
"Speaking of kids"—Maka shot a glare Spirit's way, but there was no derailing it—"how old is your daughter?"
"Turned nine in September," Soul's reply came easily, prickling Maka's skin in the face of his calm.
"Papa–" She started to warn but the look in those green eyes—always the mirror of her own—told her it was a lost cause.
Spirit planted an elbow on the table, catching his chin in a lean as he raised curious eyebrows. "Which means you were what– seventeen, eighteen when she was born?"
"Nineteen," Soul corrected.
"Sorta young, huh?"
There had been some small glimmer of hope that he wouldn't dare but Maka was no stranger to being disappointed in Spirit. The question was barely off his tongue before the words jumped from her mouth, no space for them amongst the rage that was welling up inside her. "Like you have any room to talk! You–"
It was the surprising gentleness of Soul's hand as it stole hers from a tight clench on the wine bottle before bringing it safely to the table. The squeeze cut off her anger, leaving the accusation hanging as Soul started again: "My brother and sister-in-law just hit their thirties though, so perfect age for a family, right?" It wasn't anger but bitterness that stained the question, Soul's grin barely holding onto his lips.
"Soul…" Maka found herself pleading– for what she didn't know.
Blair cleared her throat, trying to make space in the mess Spirit had made. "Maybe it's time to talk about something else."
"S'alright. Layla gave me permission." A little more life came to his smirk before he flashed it at Spirit. "Technically, I was twenty one when I started takin' care of Layla, since that's when my brother and his wife were murdered."
Murdered? Maka gaped. I knew dead, but he never said murdered before. An accident would be one thing, but that kind of death… She pressed a desperate message through her fingers to his, pulsating with hope of conveying the mix of adoration and empathy.
"Oh, kitten, I'm so sorry! You're amazing for taking on a child that young after such a traumatic event," Blair gushed, but not before ramming an elbow into Spirit's side. She hissed out of the side of her mouth at him: "A man who deserves some love, don't you think?"
For once, Maka watched her papa gape, speechless. This earned him another elbow, which in turn produced another rush of respect for Blair as Maka examined the exchange. After another seething whisper that was lost between the pair, Spirit cleared his throat. "That's a lot."
"Yeah," Soul agreed steadily, his eyes never wavering from Spirit's. "Took online classes, too. Got my degree so I could teach– have somethin' close to the same schedule as her. Got her in therapy. I did everything– do everything I can for my daughter. Somethin' I thought you and I could say we have in common."
There was no point in Maka objecting since while the words meant one thing, the narrowing of Soul's eyes spelled out a dark anger. Spirit's lips flattened, a tight line that warbled with words swallowed bitterly. The only person to move was Blair, who eagerly pushed the full wine glasses towards their intended recipients as she smiled. "What do you teach, kitten?"
Soul's jaw flexed but started to unwind as his fingers found the stem of the glass. That hardened glare fell away as his eyes moved to Blair. "English and radio."
"Oh, you do have the voice for radio!" She chimed as she grinned at Maka. "He does have a lovely baritone, doesn't he? It's the kind of voice you want whispering in your ear!"
Maka blushed as that tantalizing memory of him murmuring "I like you" reminded her just how much she did enjoy the robust tones he could manage. She tried to swallow that flush of desire by adding: "He does an acoustic show at the school. It's actually next month."
"A musician!" Blair cooed. "Oh, kitten, you certainly are the packaged deal."
It was Soul's turn to pink around the collar, stealing a glance at Maka. "Yeah, well."
A giggle escaped Maka as her gaze could only soften at his nervous shrugging of the compliment. She fiddled with his fingers, letting the glow of it all hit her. He is, and he's mine.
Settling into the couch was impossible since Spirit had already claimed a small corner and there wasn't a lizard's chance in Antarctica that he was going to get that close. Hell, there was still enough soreness in him from dinner that he could barely be in the same room. Swallowing the bitterness, Soul leaned against the mantle, helping himself to another substantial gulp of wine.
Spirit was swirling his in the glass, elbows on knees. "So, Layla– that's your daughter's name, right?"
Surprised he didn't come up with Lala, too. Soul tried to resist the frown, just catching himself at a thin line. "Yeah, named after my grandma." Releasing that little tidbit only added to his annoyance, making Soul shift uncomfortably against the fireplace. "I changed her middle name when I adopted her."
The other man's eyebrows fluctuated again, reaching for his hairline before he murmured towards his glass: "You really went all out, huh?"
"What's that mean?" Soul couldn't stop the spitting nature of that question.
He tapped the stem of the glass before sighing. "I guess I would have thought most people would just take care of the kid but adopting her? Making her name your own?"
Soul scoffed. "Didn't make her name my own– I just–" A grumbling groan started in his chest before he could check it, making the rest come out covered in grit: "I wanted her to have her mother's name, alright?" He shot it like an accusation, now letting his lips break into a grimace.
Spirit threw placating hands between them, open palms waving. "It was a compliment, kid. That's a nice way to remember her." Their eyes finally met– leaving Soul to see Maka there in the green they shared. "So, Layla what?"
"Vivienne," Soul murmured.
"Layla Vivienne. Pretty." His eyes dropped away to his wine and let a sip of it bring silence between them.
Soul glanced towards the kitchen, still hearing the clink of dishes and the soft twitter of angelic voices. C'mon, Maka. Save me here.
"She likes Maka?"
The question flaked away some of the simmering rage as he let his mind wander back to all the gentle exchanges between his girls. My girls. He turned his head towards the mantle, flustered and sure he was flushed again. Sounds sorta possessive, doesn't it? But I… I can't say I don't like the feelin'. "Definitely."
Soul couldn't suss out the added flair to Spirit's sigh, nor was the answer obvious on the man's face. Instead, he looked towards the kitchen as if repeating Soul's silent wish for Maka's intervention. The light chuckle that came next was even more of a mystery. "You really like her, huh?"
I don't like it. I want to be pissed, but… why does he sound so fucking forlorn? What right does he have? "'Course I do." Soul risked a step away from the safety of the mantle, drawing Spirit's full attention to him. "Is that enough for you?"
While Soul had expected porcupine quills to sprout at the challenge, Spirit only smiled glumly at him. "Maka's never needed anybody."
Soul teetered on his heels, considering a retreat as that statement started ringing in his ears.
Spirit threw back a gulp of wine before honing back in on Soul. "Her mother and I only managed to disappoint her, so I guess early on she just figured it was easier that way. I used to think it was independence, but… I was lying to myself. We hurt her, and she—rightfully—started doing everything herself."
"She's not like that." Except everything about it sent a chill down his spine. How much have I needed her? And what have I done to make her need me?
He offered Soul a gentle nod. "I hope so."
The chorus of sweet voices finally started to twitter closer but it didn't warm him in the way it should. Instead, that cool breeze brought goosebumps to the base of his neck and a tingling weakness to his legs. He caught Maka's smile, her eyes searching his as soon as she got in the room. What have I done to make her need me?
"Did you boys play nice while we were gone?" Blair cooed as she fluttered to Spirit's side before slinging an arm over his shoulder.
"Well, the only thing interesting to talk about is our girls, so…" Spirit answered while he nuzzled a kiss into her cheek.
Blair graciously accepted his smacking lips as she purred, "I thought my ears were burning."
Maka rolled her eyes as Blair giggled, finishing the revolution as she reached Soul. You OK? she mouthed.
No, he wanted to return but his lips formed into a weak smile instead. Regardless of the control he had over his mouth, his hand still reached for her, grasping into the corner of her sweater to bring her closer. There was no fuss or fight, and Maka didn't even bother to send a glance towards her father. Soul didn't want her to– didn't even want him to exist in her mind for just a second– just enough to maybe give him a hope that Spirit was wrong.
Maka swayed slightly, foot to foot, as she stared out the window at the moonlit trees in the backyard. The wine had been to blame for falling asleep but as soon as it had worn off she could do nothing but memorize the ceiling, lists already starting in her head as she picked apart the evening.
Jealousy.
Hypocrisy.
Murder.
The grey spiral of the beginning had left her losing hope, but she wasn't entirely sure whether it had come back by the end of the night. Sure, Spirit had taken on a more tempered tone—mostly thanks to Blair who Maka was falling more and more in love with—but Soul was lost somewhere along the way.
What if he's still upset over Papa?
What if he regrets opening up about Layla?
What if he wishes he'd never done this– gotten this close–
"Maka?" She jolted back to reality, chin jerking over her shoulder to find Soul sitting up in bed. "What's wrong?"
Everything! She resisted the urge to scream as she gathered her elbows in her hands, hugging around her middle. "Just couldn't sleep."
His lips tightened into a frown.
Her fingers tensed into her skin, pinpricks of pain started at the pressure. Maka wanted to drop her eyes to the floor but they were glued to him, trying to read every detail his face could offer. "My dad was too much tonight."
The disappointment loosened from Soul's features and he pulled up his knees, resting his chin there as if too tired for the burden. "Not the worst. Trust me." His face echoed nothing more than the same sentiment.
Maka's breath warbled out in a sigh as she turned back towards the window. She was frustrated by the hot saline that threatened along her eyelids. "I guess not, but–" Her throat clenched shut and her teeth soon followed.
The sheets shuffled behind her, then the floor creaked. Once, twice, until the warmth that hovered off of his skin was starting to threaten at her back. "Tonight wasn't bad." Fingers tentatively, oh so gently feathered at her elbow. "I'm sorry if–"
She groaned. "You are the last person who needs to apologize!" The weight of the threatening flood broke against her, cracks fissuring to breaks until she coughed out the words barely above a whisper: "Soul, you remember the list?"
His hand steadied against her arm, tenderly moving along its length. "'Course I do. Need to add somethin'?"
Maka shook her head, using the residual momentum to turn enough to catch him in her periphery. "I told you I wanted to make sure you were never alone again, but… Soul, I need you–" Her breath caught as his hand stopped its soft ministrations and grabbed instead, using that grip to pull her back against him. "Soul?"
"Tell me." His voice had somehow deepened, an urgent, warm breath against her ear.
Following that order was impossible with the flustered energy that broke across her skin as he heaved another sigh, now against her neck.
"What do you need me to do? Because I'll do it." His other arm wrapped around her, destroying any illusion of space between them.
She despised the words sitting on her tongue and the weakness they bred. It was the betrayal of her younger self– the one who was strong enough and brave enough for anything– who never required anything that she couldn't give herself. "Don't leave me." The next gulp of air down her throat burned but she made use of it anyway. "I know it sounds ridiculous, but I– relying on someone else hasn't exactly been my strong suit but now…"
His hand crept back up her arm, along her collarbone to her chin. She didn't resist as he turned her face, catching whatever she'd left unsaid with a kiss. Soul had always been gentle—maybe tentative—so the demand with which he took her now made her knees shake. Regardless of the tremor that sung down to her bones, he showed no inclination to release her. Instead, he parted her lips with his tongue, claiming every last bit of breath she had.
The floor creaked again and Maka realized he had taken half a step back but neither let go nor forced her own movement. She started to turn in his arms, finding him more than pleased with the new angle as he continued to spur on the galloping of her heart with another desperate revolution of his tongue. That step now became full, his trajectory suddenly obvious in the haze that Maka was starting to drift into.
She was oddly light, letting that feeling spur her own steps as his soft pull now became her demanding shove. The back of his legs met the bed first and instead of pulling her to tumble into the sheets, he sat, planting his hands on her hips to keep her standing above him. Ruby eyes—still clouded with so much shining desire—focused on her. She tested a press of her hips but his grip stayed true, gaze trained on her face with such tender entreaty.
"I need you," Maka repeated. Although those three small words tore the breath from his mouth he still held her separate. She slid her hands over his, carefully starting to pry his fingers. "And I… I need this now. If that's alright?"
His few more seconds of study felt like hours. Finally, he nodded, relaxing his arms enough for her to have freedom. She traced the lines of his fingers again before moving to the fabric of her T-shirt just above them. The cloth easily slipped away under his palms as she tugged the layer off. Maka tossed it aside, expecting the fear to grip her just like the chill of the room.
It was only surprise that came as Soul planted a soft kiss just below her breasts, his hair tickling the swell as his breath spilled hotly against her skin. She pressed back the scraggly locks as he continued his attentions, spending precious time doting on each centimeter of skin. As the ache in her started to throb to a fever pitch, his nose nuzzled against her nipple before he poised his mouth for another new sensation.
His eyes flashed open, glancing from his work to her as he paused. "Please," she murmured as she stroked his hair again.
Soul turned into her touch, guiding her palm to his cheek before leaving a kiss there. He sighed as one trembling hand slid along her stomach before moving to run a teasing touch over one nipple just as his mouth found the other. Soft, wet warmth enveloped one side while cool, cruel teasing took the other, forcing Maka to reply with a breathy groan. She dug her fingers down to his roots, refusing to let him steal any of those sensations away.
His calloused hand spread over the entirety, testing the softness with a firm press. Another needy noise—something close to a mewling plea—strained from her throat as she leaned closer, welcoming his palm. Another caress came, this time with a pinch of her peak as his teeth dared to graze against its partner. A flood of heat was threatening to overtake her, making her knees tremble. In vain, she tried not to melt into it, but he sapped every last bit of strength from her by circling her skin with his tongue. With another terrifyingly desperate moan, Maka pressed him back to tumble into the sheets.
He could hear it a million times and it still wouldn't be enough.
"I need you."
It wasn't about fear—her first "please" had obliterated that at least—but about desire. The way those words had freed decades worth of packed away want had left him hungry, and Maka's moans and whispers were barely a bite. Even with her on top of him, her hips grinding recklessly against his, all he could do was ache.
"Maka," he half whined, half whispered against her mouth as his fingers dimpled the skin of her hips. Even though her kiss was divine, he knew even a hint of satiation wouldn't come until he was back to tasting her skin– maybe even her if he let this need breed confidence where he had none. It wasn't as if he was used to being this close– letting his own needs speak above anything else.
Her hands gathered fistfuls of his T-shirt, clutching at the fabric through a few ragged breaths. "You– you still have those condoms, right?"
Eagerness and worry fought for supremacy. I wanna make her mine. "Y-yeah."
She was still so close that he could feel her roll her teeth over her bottom lip. "Soul, I don't–"
"I don't know how to do this." Those once fiery fingers now glided coolly up her ribcage to steadily pull her back. Blazing coals still blinked hot behind his eyes but his heart was coming back to a less lustful thrum. I wanna make her happy. "I don't– never had a lot of practice with this sorta thing."
"Oh." Her pause for breath terrified him, only slightly assuaged by the way her fingers started to smooth the fabric she'd just been abusing. "Really?" The question was a small, almost distant warble.
"I'd never lie to you. Especially not like this," he murmured back, daring to move his hands into her hair. He was hoping to anchor her– bring her back into his space so he could offer a little more of his fear. "I just…" an unsteady breath broke between them, and Soul had to fight not to force her closer. "I don't wanna disappoint you."
She answered first with a sigh, just as gentle as her hands which smoothed down his chest. It started to quell the fluctuation in his heart, especially as she momentarily destroyed the distance between them with a soft kiss. "You can't, since I'm not very practiced either."
Another notch of nervousness fell from him. "I want to make sure you– y'know– get somethin' out of it."
A terrible, coy little smile fluttered over her lips, and Maka made sure he saw it by pulling back. She planted her hands on his shoulders. "Something?"
Soul's lips pulled tightly together for a moment before he muttered, "I don't wanna be the only one enjoyin' this…"
Even worse was the playful raise of her eyebrows. "You mean an orgasm?"
A short, dry laugh erupted from his throat. "Sure, break out the medical terminology."
"It's the standard terminology," she corrected with a fair amount of faux-irritation. Her smile spelled out a different narrative, especially as it evolved into a tantalizing bite of her lip. "And I… I mean, I would hope… "
He couldn't keep that wave of insecurity from lapping at the back of his mind. "Yeah, well, like I said…" Soul sighed as the size of his want far outstretched his ego. The temptation to turn his eyes away flared to life, but he resisted with a hard blink instead.
Maka stole one of his hands from her hair, holding the connection between them. "Then maybe this is something I can beg for you to learn?"
He should have scoffed at beg—even though he had definitely done so before—but he was too busy focusing on the way she was leading his hand lower. Palm met stomach, smooth and fiercely warm under his touch. What kinda pleading could she do like this? He was sure that thought actually ticker-taped across his face since her cheeks pinked. His pinkie just disappeared under the elastic of her shorts, making contact with soft, silky fabric underneath.
"Maybe you're right," she murmured, hips twitching under his touch. The shimmy did nothing but urge his hand deeper, running over what he could only assume was lacy trim between her legs since he couldn't tear his eyes from her. "Start slower? We could– maybe touching–?"
He answered the question with the act, pressing into her with the weak objection of the cloth in between. Her breath caught, sending him searching for more with his lips burning a trail along her neck. Please. Soul had no idea what the rest of that plea was, especially as her hips rocked to create a warm friction against his hand. Please, Maka. Whispers of such things would be a waste– the only good use of his mouth were tests of her skin between his teeth.
"Soul…" It certainly wasn't admonishment as her chin tilted back, giving him a larger canvas. Her legs were trembling around him while her shorts started to reach the limit of their straining.
"Roll over." He was sure that should have been a request, but he was wasting away– starving with this imperfect angle of her. Thankfully she acquiesced without a fuss, sprawling on the bed with her beautiful ash-blonde hair scattered on the pillows. It was his turn to tower over her even though the shift never did bring the feeling of power. Instead, he was weak, succumbing to his need for her. That frailty brought him crumbling down upon her, face once again nuzzling against her breast.
It was time to even the score, swirling with his tongue where only his fingers had teased before. She shuddered under him, one hand clutching into his shoulder while the other toyed with his hair. It was divine– the soft touches that teased him while he searched for ways to disrupt her. There were moments all she could do was dig fingernails into his skin, biting sweetly as her calls for him healed all wounds. He'd let his hand drift, not keeping his mouth company but running along what he now definitely knew to be black lace since her shorts had drifted off somewhere in the turn.
"Ah!" The breathy bit of shock shot from her mouth as he pushed aside the fabric, gaining a teasing bit of access to her. It was enough to get his fingers between her slit, eliciting a muffled whine. He raised his head, abandoning her now pinked skin behind to find her hand over her mouth.
His smirk would not be denied, leaving him beaming at her as her hips squirmed. "Maka…"
"Mm–" was her weak reply trapped behind her fingers.
There was no guide for him now, leaving Soul to test the slick, sensitive skin around her opening. He drew a gentle circle, receiving a buck of her hips in return. "Maka," he purred again, this time shimmying closer to kiss the back of her hand.
She allowed it to slip away slightly, barely revealing her upper lip. "Ha–" catapulted from her throat as his fingers pressed with new purpose.
"Don't hide it," he murmured as he nuzzled closer, finally brushing his lips against hers again. "I wanna know how much you want this." The tempo he had started to take with his fingers was like an old, practiced tune. "I wanna know how much you need me."
A weak, trembling fuzz had started to take over her limbs. Is all the blood rushing to– to every place he touches? She would have scoffed if she had the air but his mouth latched onto her neck, making all of it leave her lungs on the back of a moan.
Is this normal?
Coming undone.
Unraveled.
Not a whisper of sense left.
"Harder?" he murmured as his teeth grazed where neck met shoulder.
The hum from her lips was supposed to be an affirmative but it drifted off, losing sense and meaning as the playful pads of his fingers added much needed pressure. Another nip against her skin and she was trembling beneath him. No, no, she'd been trembling all along but now it was coming to some terrifying crescendo.
"Soul!" A yelp in a voice she'd never heard before– filled with want– need– and worst of all vulnerability. Her body had always been hers and hers alone, safe-guarded from others, forbidden from urges. She refused to be her father's daughter no matter what the cost. Except, for all the lustfulness of it—and, Death, did she want him in every sense of the word—the final catalyst was not a flick of his wrist.
It was his smile.
The reaction to his name.
The way their eyes met at that moment, in the dark, in that bed, tangled in moonlight and sheets.
There was never anything in this world that made her ache that much. Restraint was a thing of the past, no longer welcome in her voice, body, or heart, and she let him know it with another deep, wild cry. Maka was falling apart under Soul's watchful gaze, and nothing had ever felt better.
"Maka, please…"
If she hadn't been in such an ecstatic haze, Maka might have laughed at the idea of Soul pleading for her. It should be her begging, insisting that he never stop any of his touches. If she had a voice and sense it would have been the first thing out of her mouth: Please let me feel this again.
Instead, she was left gasping, only using her little breaths to fuel more soft iterations of his name. Maka's nails finally released, leaving tiny crescents behind on his shoulders. Gentle, soothing sweeps of her fingers tried to make up for it until her palms settled on his cheeks to pull him in. Even his kiss felt different with the satisfaction so sweet on her lips.
"I want you to tell me what you want," she finally murmured when enough air and sense had come back to her. "But I– my offer still stands, but only if you're comfortable." Maka nuzzled her nose against his as she stole more kisses with the excuse of giving him time.
Soul took advantage of the diversion, lowering himself to press against her warm. Somewhere in between, Maka forced up and off his shirt, leaving her to relish in that new feeling of his bare chest against hers. She took up even more minutes tracing the muscles of his shoulders and down along his back. There was so much pleasure in feeling each twitch– goosebump– shuddering intake of breath that told her where her fingers needed to be most.
Just as she let one hand drift to the nape of his neck, Soul's soft whisper started: "I promise it's just you."
She paused, her quivering lip the only movement she could produce.
"I promise that I– I see this goin' somewhere."
Maka could only produce a soft nod as her eyes started to burn beneath pinched lids.
"I promise that—no matter what—leavin' you isn't an option. I'm gonna make sure that whether it's like this or as friends we don't forget each other." One hand cupped her cheek, clearing away tears she didn't even know had started. His lips moved to the other side to catch the rest with soft caresses. "And I don't make promises I can't keep." He sealed that with a luxurious kiss, spoiling all the others that came before.
