A/N: This was written for day one of SoMa NSFW week 2014 for the caught prompt. It is crack. You have been warned.
The first time they had sex, it was like spontaneous human combustion. There had been no declaration of feelings, no sweet sappy I love you, no slow progression from kissing to foreplay to more, no rounding of the bases, no. It all happened in one fell swoop; they had been a ticking time bomb for a year, probably two, and it was bound and determined to happen eventually. All it took was a little fight, one little fight, about something stupid, something neither could remember later—who had burned the curry, whose night it was to cook, who forgot to shop—something completely mundane and idiotic. They had been pining for each other for the past two or three years, each secretly believing that the other had no interest, each secretly longing and hoping and wanting. The pent up tension between them was so thick he could have cut it with his scythe blade, so it was no wonder when one of them finally snapped. They never could agree on who kissed first. Each had wanted the other to just shut up already and the overwhelming gravity of their mutual, unspoken attraction had done the rest, smashing their lips together like two asteroids on a collision course, smashing apart their little world of misunderstandings in that instant with sudden, perfect clarity.
What followed was wordless and feral, driven by long repressed need suddenly coming to a boil and overflowing the pot. It was pure and animal and spectacular and when they were done, they knew it was forever, that this was something they would never want to stop.
It was a mere two months before graduation when it happened, and in the following weeks, they couldn't get enough of each other. Every chance, every moment they could, they came together. At home, their coupling was near constant, something Blair at first found amusing until the noise and vigor tired even her patience and she decided to give them a wide berth for awhile. At school, they found space and time anywhere and everywhere they could—in the janitor's closet during free period, in a dark, empty classroom during lunch, deep in the woods during partner training—Soul had convinced his meister that it helped their resonance, and therefore counted. These days, Maka wasn't much inclined to disagree with anything that involved sex with her weapon, so she simply didn't. They were a month from graduating anyway. Thirty minutes of training lost hardly mattered at this point.
This time, it was only kissing. Well, that and groping, lots of groping. Well, perhaps more than groping. They were in an empty hallway, the scythe pinning his meister against the door of the specimen room next to the specialized science classroom; the meister's legs were wrapped around her weapon's middle, and he was grinding against her through their clothing, quiet moans escaping from each of them. His mouth was latched onto her neck greedily, her hands were tangled in his hair possessively, and it was getting close to that time when they would either need to stop or find some place slightly less out in the open. Neither of them were much inclined to stop, but before they could do more, they heard voices.
"Shit!" Soul swore under his breath as he unlatched himself from his meister.
"We need to—" Maka began, unwrapping her legs from around his waist to plant them on the floor, but before she could finish, she was interrupted by a click behind her and tumbled into the dark little specimen room. The meister caught her weapon's devious grin just before the door clicked softly behind him, shutting them both in. An instant later, he was pressed against her again in the darkness, his lips on hers, tongues sliding together desperately, clothing being frantically removed. Yes, they each had concluded, this would work. The science classroom was only occasionally used, and the specimen room rarely saw the light of day. It was perfect.
The group of meister candidates had only recently shuffled into the science classroom and taken their seats when it happened. Just as Professor Stein was about to explain the parameters of the experimental lesson, the classroom was filled with static from the speakers that were hooked to the microphone in the specimen room, followed by a rather loud moan.
Students and professor all looked around in confusion as the moan was followed by voices over the speaker.
"Fuck what was that?" The voice was low, rumbling, and decidedly out of breath.
"That's my hand." Another voice answered, much higher pitched but still breathy.
"Not that-I hit my hand on something-hurts like a bitch," the low, decidedly male voice came again.
"Mmmm-" there was some sounds of shuffling. "This make it better," the higher pitched voice, probably that of a woman, said huskily.
The deeper voice let out a gasp and a strangled moan and several of the students in the room went scarlet as others strained to see through the darkened glass.
"Well, then." Stein offered cheerfully. "It appears that the specimen room is-erm-already occupied," he peered down at the covered cage he had brought in with him. "So, change of plans, let's see what we can read about the souls of the two subjects currently using the room, shall we?"
"Um, professor?" A girl in the back, a brunette whose once creamy white skin was now bright red, put up her hand.
"Yes, Nina," Stein answered boredly. There were still gasps and pants coming through the speakers, but he ignored them.
"Uh, isn't it-I mean, shouldn't we-"
Her stammering was interrupted the low voice growling out "there, fuck, there."
"Mmmm," the woman's voice replied, self-satisfied. "I think that's enough."
There was something like a whine from her companion, and sounds of shuffling fabric.
"Don't pout, I think it's time for the ma-" the higher voice began, but was cut off at the end and gasped.
"Come 'ere," the man growled, followed by banging and sounds of commotion.
"S-aaaah!" The female gasped out as the clammer continued.
The poor girl in the other room became, impossibly, even more red before she finally stammered out over the shuffling, "Shouldn't we go professor, this is-"
"A fantastic learning opportunity." Stein cut her off, his glasses glinting coldly above his bored expression.
There was another low "fuuuuuck" from the man, followed by "ahhhhh!" from the woman before they degenerated into panting and gasping and something that sounded like lip smacking along with strange, shuffling noises again.
Stein ignored it, continuing. "So. What can you tell me about the people in the specimen room?" His gaze swept across the dozen other people in the room, all NOT students with potential soul perception, all varying shades of red, gazes up, down, anywhere but on him or each other.
"Uh, well," a short, stocky blonde boy put up his hand. "There's a dude, and-uh-a chick."
"Brilliant deduction, Jones," Stein intoned dryly.
"And they're-uh-having sex?" Jones went on.
"Clearly, you have outstanding observational talent." There were a few snickers, earning a sour look from Jones towards a couple of boys behind him. "Anyone else?"
The entire class settled their eyes on the specimen room, looks of concentration mingling with still red faces. The moaning was getting louder.
"Anyone?" Stein's gaze swept the room again.
"I…" a girl with red hair raised her hand. "I can-can tell it's-two people but," she shook her head. Stein called on a few other students, but none of them seemed able to tell anything about who was in the other room. Most claimed they couldn't see their souls at all.
There was a loud gasp from speakers. "Oh my Death, Soul!" the woman cried out. "Soul!" she gasped again. There was a low, answering moan of "Maka, fuck, Maka," and the entire group burst into talk and titters.
"Well, then," Stein cleared his throat over the renewed clamor and repeated name moaning coming from the speakers. "It would seem our subjects have outed themselves. Time to return to the original lesson, I suppose. If you'll all excuse me, I'll get it set up." With that, the tall professor grabbed up the covered cage and swept from the room.
Twenty seconds later, the moaning from the speakers halted abruptly as the lights in the specimen room flare to life, the collected students titters and gasps becoming even louder, one girl shouting "oh my Death!" even as the girl in the specimen table did the same because there, right there on the large metal table in the center of the small specimen room was sprawled the Last Death Scythe himself, Soul "Eater" Evans, stark naked and flushed red, and straddling him, equally naked and red, was his meister, Maka albarn.
They seemed stunned into inaction, still connected, until Stein cleared his throat from his place in the doorway. Suddenly, it was as if he'd flipped another switch, because the two scrambled apart quickly, the death scythe groaning "fuck, fuck me, fuck," as he gathered up his clothes, struggling to shuck on his pants quickly, not even bothering with boxers. Next to him, his meister was doing the same as she hyperventilated, grabbing up shirt and skirt and throwing his jacket over it all in her haste. The death scythe had shoved their undergarments and shoes under one arm as both faced the professor in the doorway.
"I..w..we're so sorry, p..professor," Maka managed to stammer out. "We-I-just-please, please don't tell my Papa?" The poor death scythe meister was red and almost shaking she was so distraught. Her weapon had a hand on her shoulder, his face calmer now, but his red eyes flashed with determination; he would protect his meister, even from this.
"Oh," Stein waved a hand dismissively. "It's no trouble. You've done me a favor, really." Meister and weapon exchanged a confused look as he continued. "You have nothing to worry about-my lips are sealed," he smiled slightly and Maka let out an audible sigh of relief.
"Thank you so much, professor! I'm-"
"But," he cut her off, raising his hand to flip another switch. "I fear I cannot speak for everyone else." Suddenly, the one way mirror shimmered into two way mode and the class on the other side who were all still staring, giggling, and pointing became visible. Two heads swiveled towards the mirror, stunned.
"Fuck," the scythe breathed. His meister just gasped. They blinked at the crowd, completely scarlet, for several seconds before Maka grabbed her weapon's hand and muttered an excuse to the professor before pulling Soul past Stein and out the door.
No one saw the pair for several days, and rumors flew. By some miracle, Spirit did not actually kill the younger death scythe when the rumors reached his ears, and the two went on to graduate whole and intact.
Years later, as both meister and weapon worked for the school they had once attended, rumor had become myth. According to Shibusen lore, The Last Death Scythe and his meister have had sex in every available space, some plausible, some downright absurd: the janitor's closet, every classroom imaginable, the training grounds, the locker rooms, the cafeteria, even the Death Room. For a time, the rumors amused the scythe and embarrassed his meister, but many years later, long together, long settled, they were both amused when they overheard the stories still told about their exploits. While some were true, only one was confirmed, but by this time, they had become legendary for the one time they were actually caught.