tw: some sexual content

Editing was no longer my occupation-I'd been on the same page for the past fifteen minutes-since swimming in shame had become my new pastime. How could I have been so stupid? Running a hand under his shirt like his body was fair game? We'd just set ground rules, and here I was blowing them out of the water because…

It's not his fault! Another sigh rattled from between my lips as my glare moved from the screen to my hand. Even though I knew it'd do nothing for the nervous energy, I moved my hands together, one set of fingers spinning the ring on the other. I used to think it was all I had left of Mama in this world, but I knew better-these thoughts were hers too.

"Is it really only me?" There was no doubt that was her voice, an accusation that I knew had passed between her and Papa a few times as my ear pressed against their door late at night.

I knew the answer even better than she did-after all, I'd caught him a few times. It wasn't as if he was all that sly about it either. Papa was an idiot, but here I was adding a little more proof in the nature versus nurture debate since there was no reason- not a single one that justified my mind wandering there. His words shouldn't have been twisting and turning in my brain.

He wants good thoughts, that's all.

I huffed and tried to focus on the screen again, tapping my pen against the desk in some hope to curb the nervous flutters in my stomach that definitely weren't my son's steady movements.

It's not that there's anyone else who fills his time. The only other girls he even seems to know are Liz and Tsubaki and at most, they were his sisters. He never even gave them a second glance…

The chair's squeal covered the tiny groan I let eke from my throat while I tilted back, my hands coming over my face as it angled up towards the ceiling.

Great, Maka, you're barely even a month into the boyfriend-girlfriend part of this relationship! Just let yourself enjoy it instead of letting your imagination run wild! Death, that's always easier said than done.

I went through the motions of our new routine: I came home from work and showered, then moved to his apartment for dinner. All the while I was trying to ignore that low buzz in the back of my brain, to contribute to the evening's usually lively conversation instead of giving into a question that shouldn't be a question.

Are we exclusive? sounded like I was expecting his varsity pin.

Is there anyone else you're seeing? was an accusation.

Am I crazy, hormonal, and absolutely just wanting to jump to strange conclusions out of complete and utter fear of this going well? was hitting the nail directly on the head.

But no matter how many times I could feed my monster of a brain that reality, it simply spit it back in my face. Just as I bit into my lip for another mental reiteration, I urged my hand forward to slap the mute on the remote. My head swiveled swiftly to his face, catching his raised eyebrows as his fingers flexed into my shoulder. "I'm not mad at you!" I blurted.

His bottom lip bobbed slightly before he murmured, "OK…"

"But I-" Oh, Death, where am I going with this? What am I going to say other than that?

He blinked, waiting patiently for what wasn't going to come. After a frustrating tick of silence, he pulled in a slow breath before filling it: "What are you mad at?"

I sighed as my hand flexed into a fist enough to dig a knuckle along the top of my thigh. "Maybe myself, or maybe…"

"Did something happen at work?" he offered. His hand relaxed, adoring fingers tracing soft lines over my skin.

"No…" That touch was agonizing, forcing me to crumble into him. I hid my face against his neck, hoping that it would stop the swell but I found that old pain that I'd been regurgitating all day instantly coming back up my throat. "When I was fourteen, my parents divorced." I wanted that to be the end of it but he tipped his head to rest his cheek against me and I lost whatever grip I thought I had. "Mama got fed up with Papa's cheating so she left." For once, there was no salt-water bath for my cheeks, those tears cried out years before.

"She take you with her?" There was a sweet delicateness to his voice but still such a solid thrum that urged the question forward.

"She left me with him." My heart ached to just curl into him, a call that seemed to reach his fingers. His other hand slid over the globe of my stomach to my waist. "Then she just… forgot." How else do you describe a mother that disappears into smoke? I've never once blamed her for cutting the ties that bound her to Papa but… there was no soothing the emptiness she left for me.

"When's the last time you saw her?"

I tilted my head away enough so that I could look down at my hand, catching the glint of her ring as I moved my fingers along the fabric of his shirt. "At her funeral."

His breath caught.

"Ten years ago." As I tried to pull away, his hand disappeared from my waist to catch my cheek. His gentle, needy fingers kept me in place and stole any hope I had to look anywhere else but his eyes.

"What made you think of that?"

I stubbornly shook my head. "It's not your fault."

"Didn't say it was," he muttered. Soul tapped a finger against my jaw. "But I still want you to tell me."

I chewed at my lip again, hoping for some kind of miraculous reprieve but receiving only his steady stare. "You needed me to tell you to think only about me today."

He heaved a sigh as his forehead tipped to rest on mine. "Please don't tell me-"

"I know," I groaned out weakly. "I-I can guess what you were afraid you'd think about and I know that has nothing to do with what my papa did."

His lips lacked all gentleness, a firm plant over mine as if to wipe away the words. When he released me, he pulled back so his gruff whisper shot between us. "I tried something today."

"What?" I murmured, half still in the wonder of his kiss but now thrown for a loop as his throat bobbed through a hard swallow.

"I wanted to think of you because-" he was interrupted by another rough jitter fluttering down his neck "-Maka, I was trying to get- to see if I could…" A rough sigh broke his lips before his hand slid down to my neck, cradling there as his desperate eyes pulled me in. "When I look at you- when I touch you, it feels good, so fucking good. You gotta know that I do want to, and I definitely thought-oh, fuck I had so many thoughts that first night on our date, I swear."

"Soul…" I interrupted his babbling with a sweet murmur of his name. My fingers worked into his t-shirt, trying to calm the furious beats I could feel throbbing through his skin. "Were you-" how can I put this as delicately, tenderly as possible? "-trying to get turned on?" I forced myself not to cringe-not that my words weren't perfect to evoke that emotion but the idea of any disapproval on my face would spell disaster for him. Again, he was glass in my hands.

He pinked slightly as he cleared his throat. "Sorry. I-I probably should have asked if that was OK."

"Why?" The question was filled with honesty since I was utterly dumbfounded by the idea.

"Thinking about you and touching myself…" he murmured before sending worrying teeth into his lip.

I could no longer keep the disagreement from my features, eyebrows wrinkling as I shook my head. "There's nothing wrong with that."

His head bobbed in surprise as if the words had slapped him.

"Especially since… were you doing it for me?" I searched his face, watching red eyes go wide before softening as he nodded. "How did-was it alright?"

He sighed as his eyes drifted downwards to my lap. "I could… but not all the way."

"Look at me," I pleaded as I gathered his hands away from my face so that I could clutch them in my own, to shake them in hopes that it would lend my words the strength that the gentleness in my voice couldn't convey. "I don't want you to feel ashamed. I know I can't tell you not to be, but I hope that at least you believe me when I say it. Especially since-" the burn of tears surprised me, choking the words away for a moment "-I spent all of today worried for no reason. You were at home trying to do something for us and I was at work creating nothing but an idiotic fantasy-"

"Hey," he chided as his hands squeezed mine. "S'alright, Maka, c'mon-"

"No," I groaned out mournfully.

A glum smile pulled at his lips as he let out a slow exhale. "Guess that sorta means I'm not the only one who's hurt, huh?"

It was my turn to be struck. It was plain-obvious-but I'd spent years swiping the entirety of it under the rug. I had never doubted Brian since the idea that he would keep himself from something he wanted was absurd. If I wasn't giving him enough anymore there wouldn't have been cheating, just complete dumping-cut off as soon as I wasn't good enough. Maybe that's why I pushed myself so hard to fit the mold, why I lost so much of myself in order to be with him.

Soul's fingers untangled from mine and moved to smooth away the thought. He caressed back my hair as the thumb of his other hand smeared a tear off my cheek. "If I don't get to feel ashamed, then neither do you." His voice finally adopted firmness, unshakeable for the first time in this confession. "It ain't like you came home accusing me of anything. Your mind just ran away with you. Happens to me all the fucking time." He let out a rueful laugh. "Why I had to ask you to make me promise in the first place."

"Did it work?" I sniffled.

"Mostly." His smile disappeared with another sigh. "Feels like… like I always have to panic first. I gotta give into it even if I don't want to. Today I just…" His eyes searched mine for a moment before he leaned to take a taste of my lips as if that could unjumble the words he needed. "I never fought back. I never did a thing to stop her. Not until I met you," he murmured in the small space leftover from our kiss. "And I want to keep doing that because when it is you, Maka, it's perfect."

I was used to that word resounding so bitterly in the back of my mind but every time it broke from him it just seemed like another note in our song. Any arrangement of my thoughts felt wrong so I brought him back into a kiss, my hands needily cupping his face to keep him. While I could have gotten lost in that, he surprised me with a tug from his hand tangled in my hair that parted us.

"Could you…" This time his sigh was sweet, his next words so filled with need. "Touch me like you did this morning. Please."

Clarification was entirely unnecessary since I'd let my mind wander back to that moment a few times today. One hand moved from his cheek to smooth down his shirt, finding the hem and sliding under. His stomach muscles along with his breath fluttered under my touch. "Does it-"

My question was gone, swallowed whole by his kiss. I had never worried about him mirroring my intensity-whatever I gave he always returned-but suddenly I was no longer the call that was being followed. Instead, it was his desperate need setting the pace as he parted my lips to plead for more with his tongue rather than his words. It was dizzying, and my only hope was to offer him a needy groan as my fingers tried to sear into the skin of his sides. All my wants to be gentle, to cradle him tenderly started to fizzle away as my hands continued to clutch.

My nails bit into skin before the panic hit me, my mind instantly bucking at the thought of hurting him. "I'm sorry!"

"For what?" huskily buzzed from his lips that were still so close to mine.

A pained sigh left him as I snatched my hand away. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"I know the difference-" a gruff bit of annoyance gritted in between his words "-between someone trying to hurt me versus someone wanting me." His hand caught mine, playing with the pads of my fingers. "Am I wrong?"

I shook my head, letting our noses nuzzle in the process. "I want you." I hoped every last ounce of the meaning of those words to hit him- to hold him. If there was ever anything I wanted him to be sure of, it was that he was so deeply necessary.

"Then don't stop yet-" he nipped at my lips "-please."

I don't think I'd ever heard that plea from him more than once in a week's time-never one to beg unless tainted with sarcasm. None of that applied here, that word so saturated with need that I couldn't help but bend to him. I knew there would be a tipping point, some break he'd require, except I couldn't help but surge to meet it in my own deepening want.

Suddenly his lips were no longer on my own, instead drawing a line along my jaw. His hand was at the base of my neck, winding in my hair to tip me in whatever way he wanted. That angle allowed him to get to my ear, as he brushed the lobe with a gentle kiss. "You're beautiful."

Even in all of the hormonal fuzz, I froze-not pliable and melting but stricken with a woeful fear I had never quite erased. When was the last time someone said that to me? My fingers tightened, no longer out of ecstasy but a deep yearning to hold on.

"I don't want you thinking for a second…" That drifted off with another soft press of his mouth on the pulse of my neck. "That I don't wish this was easier-that I could be normal for you."

I thought my heart had crumbled enough at the compliment, but now with that forlorn lilt to his voice, I was sure it would break. I loosened my grip, gliding my palms over his back to whisper soothing into his skin. "This is normal, Soul." His lip trembled against my neck but only offered a shallow exhale instead of argument. "Actually it's better than normal." My fingers cascaded down his back, leaving goosebumps in their wake. "Can we go to bed?"

"Huh?" He peeked from his hiding spot, red eyes meeting mine with so much trepidation.

"I bought a new pillow." I let my hands sit on his sides, resting there to hold him. "This one's just the front so you could get closer-if you wanted to." Color was burning on my cheeks, a strange but elating girlish embarrassment bringing warmth to them. "I know it's been kind of a battle with that thing between us."

That broke a real laugh from his mouth as Jack stirred right on cue. "Yeah, but… little early for bed, ain't it?" He glanced at the clock, showing off the flush of his cheeks as his head turned.

You can tell him what you want. You can tell him what you need because that's actually important to him, isn't it? "I think…" My hands slipped out from under his shirt, moving to gather his up. "Maybe holding me for a while will help with those thoughts."

"Mine or yours?" he murmured, dejection starting to slither into his voice again.

"Both." I wanted to destroy those worries before they settled, forcing me to start shimmying off the couch. My heart still forgot its rhythm every time my awkward movements jumped him to attention like an instant call for his smooth ones to help me to my feet. As soon as we were standing, I was back to leading the way and pulling him towards the bedroom. The old pillow lay abandoned on the floor as the tinier j-shaped stayed in its place.

"You want a movie on?" As I got close enough to the bed to sit down at the side, he remained shuffling at the end, eyeing me and then the desk where the laptop usually sat.

"No, I think I want to talk a bit more if that's OK?" I laid down without the answer, rolling onto my side to hug the pillow.

"S'fine…" The floor still creaked with another uneasy movement of his feet before the bed dipped under his weight.

My heart lurched but steadied as he slid closer next to me. "Can you…?" I lifted my head, clearing my hair out of the way. "Your arm." Why was my heart beating like a stupid school girl's? As if I had never laid in bed with him-or anyone else for that matter-and had them close enough to feel a heartbeat?

He easily shifted his arm so that I could use it as a pillow, his chest now firmly pressing into my back. "Comfortable?" His whisper was right next to my ear, purring there.

"Yes." That luckily came as a cue for him to unwind, his hands now focused on finding a natural way to hold me. I blamed the silence on settling in, finding the grooves in each other until we fit perfectly without that pregnancy pillow obstruction. Even as we lay there, now intertwined as much as we'd ever been, I could only listen to the starts and stops of his breathing that complimented my own. You said talk. It's not exactly what you're great at, but this is your chance, isn't it? To be honest to who you are for the first time in… "Brian never said things like that-that I was beautiful."

He tensed as an annoyed grunt broke by my ear.

"I always…" I closed my eyes, trying to refuse the idea of tears. "I always relied on him saying what was wrong and never expected him to tell me what was right. I was always improving, changing to fit his whims and I assumed that's what would keep him with me." I slid my hand over his and laced our fingers, trying to relax some of that desperate grip he'd adopted during my spew. "You're nothing like him-and that's a good thing-but I guess it just leaves me guessing because I don't think I've trusted my own intuition in years."

He sighed, a bit of warm breath tickling along my neck. "If you listen to your intuition now, what's it telling you?"

I barely resisted the urge to bite into my lip, allowing my mouth to spout the first thing that could come to my mind: "That I'm crazy to even wonder like I did today."

His reply came in the form of a sweet brush of a kiss against my shoulder.

"But that means…" Do it, Maka. Ask. Let it be what you want for once. "I think that means that I need you to keep telling me those kinds of things. Even if we're taking the rest slow, I need to hear that you're still… interested."

I didn't believe it was possible, but he curled into me a little more so his lips were leaving breathless whispers against my ear: "Then let me tell you… our first date- looking at you in that dress made me sure there was still some kinda want in me. I'd felt it more than once with you-especially the few nights before when we had our fight or whatever you wanna call it. But then when you reeled me in and kissed me and I let myself kiss you back…" A forlorn little sigh that made my heart grow wings broke his words. "That was the first time in seven years that anything below the belt sorta stirred. S'why I high-tailed it to my room." He let out a rueful laugh as he flexed his fingers in mine. "I was so fucking scared but happy at the same time."

I waited for more but he dipped his head against my shoulder instead, placing more soft kisses there. "For seven years you haven't…?"

Another scoffing sound scuttled against my shoulder. "No point. For the last year I was with her nothing worked and then when I was by myself… sorta didn't want to find out. Just assumed I was fucking broken." He nuzzled his face again before raising his head, letting his voice fall loud and clear again. "But I guess that's not true-not when I've been feeling that more and more."

That means he's turned on more and more by you! Get that through your thick skull! I could feel the heat of my cheeks changing color. "You're not broken, Soul."

"Maybe not. Maybe a little battered, but…" He kissed just below my ear, leaving his lips pressed there until the warmth from my blush had seeped to meet it. "Maka, if… if you're OK with it, I wanna keep touching you."

"Y-you are touching me-" fluttered embarrassingly quickly over my lips.

Even if I sounded childish, there was no laugh from him, only another heated sigh. "I know you'd wanna touch me back but… just for now, just for a little while until I work myself up to it-oh, fuck this sounds pathetic."

He started to curl away from me but I clutched his arm, half turning so I could see him as I strained my head over my shoulder. "Remember, there's nothing to be ashamed of." I let each word stamp between us before trying to calm myself with a breath. "What do you want to do?"

Red eyes blinked from surprise to pleading as his hand moved to cup my cheek. "Just let me prove to you that I want you and that… that I can do enough to make you feel good even if it isn't that."

Oh, Death, wasn't that just the most conflicting offer. Obviously, a month or so after Jack's conception was the last time I'd even contemplated sex. Afterward, there were a few fleeting times when I indulged with just myself, but that was what I believed the remainder of my life would consist of. Remember, there's no dating for a pregnant woman-and a single mother? Those pickings aren't exactly all that great either. I had basically settled on never being touched again, but here was the offer: honest and entirely the most I could dream for.

"Maka?" He prompted since I had been lost drowning in my own self-doubt, even though one look at him could tell me I wasn't alone.

"On one condition." I barely whispered that without squeaking.

His eyes narrowed but he nodded slightly.

I planted a hand over his, trying desperately to keep his touch as some kind of grounding. "We keep a tally."

Soul's eyebrows revolved, wrinkled to raised to wrinkled again. "You wanna make a chart?"

"For-for how many times I get this because it isn't fair," I gushed breathlessly because Death was I ever desperate for him to touch me, but my selfishness at least knew some bounds. "But I do want you to. Please."

All of the trepidation melted from his face as a soft laugh barely trembled over his lips. He leaned closer, not to kiss me but to rest his forehead against mine, a few more breathy chuckles leaving him. His fingers stroked my cheek. "Someday we'll make it even, but for right now, you trust me?"

What better answer for that was there than a kiss? I abandoned the pillow to roll onto my back, giving myself the reach to bring a hand into his hair. He didn't need the encouragement, toying immediately with my tongue in another desperate connection. His hand roamed carefully, palm running down my neck to my collarbone before tentatively gliding to the buttons of my shirt. I didn't want to leave the hold I had on him but I dropped my hand to stop him mid-button. "They're sort of sore."

I loved the way the unlatching of our lips had left him panting. "Got it." Without any more explanation, he slid the button back into its eyelet. "How about shorts?"

On the drift to my waistband, my hand caught on the swell of my stomach. For a second, I had forgotten, but that lingering thought struck me again: I'm not supposed to have this. I'd been so caught up I didn't notice that his hand followed mine, his palm pressing and continuing my journey. "Soul…"

His eyes were tensely focused on me as our joined hands met my shorts. "If it's what you want, Maka, I want to. And maybe…" His glance threatened to fall but he blinked back to focus on me. "It'll give me something to think about later."

Fresh color hit my cheeks as that dizzying electricity scattered along my skin at the edge of the elastic. A completely silly part of me was wondering: you'd think about that? As if my coming undone would be anyone's fantasy! Not with this globe of a stomach, dark nipples, stretch marks!

Suddenly, his fingers were lacing in mine, his eyes so deep that for a moment I was lost-entirely gone under his stare. It was that slick grin of his that pulled me back, surfacing again with an unsteady beat of my heart. "Not like it's hard to find something…" The smile disappeared as he leaned closer to steal a kiss. His whisper continued as his fingers nervously played with my own. "Your laugh. The way your hair curls when it's wet. That little line of concentration that pops up when you read." Another brush of our lips was the only thing that kept me from uttering a hopeless sigh. "Even this-" his pointer just wavered from my hand with a gentle tap to my belly "-I wouldn't trade. All I've ever wanted is more of it."

I untangled our fingers so I could shimmy out of my shorts. It wasn't an easy process but Soul waited patiently with lips running along my jaw and neck. His hand gently played in my hair, fixing sweetly even as I settled again. As soon as I relaxed into the sheets, his hand cupped under my chin, turning my head to make room for more kisses. Each one brought ease to my breath, unwinding my mind while still striking a match with each touch.

"You deserve to hear it." His murmur deepened the spell, making me start to drift in and out as his fingers tightened ever so slightly. "Because there's no end to how beautiful you are, Maka. I'm gonna show you that." He turned my face again, reeling me in for that final kiss-something better than the ones that woke princesses from deep sleeps or any other myriad of curses. Each movement of his lips was another thorn pulled from my heart- another painfully exquisite stitch to mend what I thought had been stolen from me.