Note: a little bit more NSFW here. fair warning.
The impatience he'd held in her office has mellowed into a lazy, languid enjoyment. His hands please her under her cloak and robes, one teasing the underside of her breast while the other delves into her heat. She holds on to the edge of the chariot like it's her only source of sanity.
"I left him a note this time," he murmurs in her ear, his body pressing against her back. Indeed, the earth isn't frozen and barren, though the night air is slightly chilly. His callouses are rough on her tight nipples.
One of her own hands works frantically on her clit, and their fingers occasionally collide with her urgency. He delves inside, gently testing her walls. "S-Soul-" she hoarsely pleads, her legs threatening to buckle.
He smiles into her hair, crooking his fingers and causing her flesh to make obscene noises in the dark. "Yes?" he teases, and if she wasn't so close to orgasm she'd smack him upside his head because he sounds a little too amused, dangling a prize just out of her reach. It might even be a form of revenge for the past five years. But then he says, "Anything for the Goddess," like she is the only one, and she trembles around his fingers.
She croons it out, pressing into his hand. "Harder." He happily complies, rumbling her name and firmly stroking her until she finds her release. His arm cinches around her when her knees wobble, holding her upright as she recovers. Then she makes him wobble, reaching behind for his arousal and holding it steady as she wetly presses around him.
"So what'd you do with my clothes, anyway?" he asks afterward, the cool night air finally getting to him.
"O-oh, sorry." Despite their recent activities, her face still manages to burn with embarrassment. Maka reaches for the nether, concentrating for the sensation of sun-bleached fabric and summons his tunic into existence. Likewise she tries to summon her professionalism back, but that doesn't work nearly as well. She offers his clothes with an outstretched arm. "Normally, I have lunch with someone before… um."
He smiles at her, sinister and sated, his eyes almost glowing from the light of his necklace. He'd caught her watching him while pulling his tunic back on. "If it bothers you that much, then we'll have lunch next time. Though, it should probably be here."
She absently straightens her cloak. "Ah, right. Fifteen minutes is kind of short, isn't it?"
"Hey," he says quietly, voice concerned. He sidles in front of her, helping her with a fold in the cloak. "I'll see you soon, right? Another five years is..."
Maybe the Fates really did do a number on this one, because she doesn't like the idea of going back home without him while he ages, holding on to short memories of her. How could this have happened? "It won't be tomorrow," she reluctantly says. "You know how it works. But I will come back as soon as I am able. I think if I set up a meeting with the council and your brother, we might b-"
His lips are warm against hers. "Four hours."
She leans away from him (but not before accepting another kiss). "Soul, I am ruler of Hades- I can't get anything close to ready in four hours!"
"I know, I know," he sighs, running a hand through his hair and ruffling it. Looking pained, he jokingly offers, "Four and a half?"
Maka shakes her head. "I'd need at least-" she mentally counts off everything she must prepare, "-twelve."
Soul scowls. "Six."
"Si- Do you think you can convince your brother to let you become an immortal consort of the underworld in six hours?"
"Oh." He makes a haggard face at that, which abruptly morphs into surprise. "Consort? Really?" he asks, trying to tamp down the hopefulness in his voice- as if he hadn't been the one who'd blown into her office and bowed before her.
She makes a helpless, wordless noise. "What else can I do? I mean, I figured I would date someone for a few years first, but…" Maka stares into his eyes, imagining them hollow and lifeless like the rest of the underworld. She presses her palms into her own eyes in frustration. "Argh! This is the problem with dating mortals. If we went out for even a year, you'd already be dead twenty times over. Soul, you'll pass through the gates in less than two weeks with a coin under your tongue!"
A long silence passes, night creatures singing in the dark fields. Rough fingers gingerly pull on her wrists, taking her hands in his. He softly says, "I knew it was going fast for you, but I guess I didn't consider how much."
"I can't sleep without everything changing," she agrees, despairing.
His thumbs rub her palms for a moment, deep in thought, before he releases her. "Take as long as you need." he says. "It's okay if… if you don't come back."
It feels as if the world has disappeared from under her feet. "What?"
"Putting you in a position to marry someone because the window of opportunity is so small? And finding a way to do it without causing my brother to accidentally starve humanity? I can't ask anyone to do that, much less a goddess."
"Soul, that's not-"
"So, I can wait." He shrugs with one arm, and she's transported into yesterday, back in her office with a curious teenager watching eagerly after her. He smiles, but it's subdued and painful to see. "And even if you change your mind, I'm guaranteed to see you again at least one more time, right?" he says with a false blitheness.
Maka gapes at him, disbelieving. "You'd waste your life for this, waiting on me? Why?! You may have years between my hours, but the little amount of time we've spent together is the same."
Soul looks to the side, considering. His fingers absently touch the pendant at his chest, the motion fluid and well-practiced. The worn leather strap had aged five years with him. "Did you know?" he starts, sounding so much like Wes that it makes her heart sink a little. "All the stories people tell of Hades are wrong. They call you heartless."
She sighs, murmuring, "It's a common misconception."
"Nothing they said about you was right. They said nothing about pomegranates, or your hair, or about the glow from the souls in the Acheron. None of them know how how beautiful it is. None of them know how the Queen takes the time to meet every person who's ever died. The don't realize she'll greet even them despite all the things they've called her."
After a self-conscious moment of consideration, Maka silently scoots closer to Soul, threading her arms between his. His heart is beating rapidly under his ribs when he closes the distance between them, his arms timidly encircling her.
Maka can't begin to know if she and Soul will work out forever. She doesn't know if they work now, despite any physical attraction they clearly have for each other. But if she doesn't do something soon, she'll lose the possibility of finding out, and doesn't want to meet him at the docks.
"Thank you," she says. "But I am doing this for my own reasons- you are not asking me to do anything. If I can convince your brother to let you be my consort, and it doesn't work out between us…" He tenses against her. She takes a deep breath, charging forward. "I would still like for you to be part of Hades. I think you could do a lot of good things, there."
He had clearly not expected that kind of end to her speech. When she leans back in his arms to read his face, his expression is unguarded, pure shock.
"If that is something you are interested in, that is," she belatedly adds.
A smile slowly sneaks into his lips, and he tilts his head off to the side, ineffectively hiding his pleasure under his hair. "I, uh- I'd like that very much, I think."
"Yes?"
"Yeah."
Moving into his line of sight to hold his gaze, she says, determined, "Give me eight hours."
She can feel the trepidation at the thought of another two silent years fill him, but his eyes do not waver. "I'll be right here."
He'll be twenty-five by then.
