A/N: Just an update to add this note, nothing's different! (Sorry.) This chapter is lemony, folks. Ye hath been warned, verily.

They were kissing they were kissing oh shit they were kissing like really kissing and her hand was on the back of his neck drawing him in deeper. Her tongue tentatively ran along his bottom lip and fuck, it felt pretty fucking good, and not just because he was still kind of high.

He put his hands on her shoulders and carefully pushed her away. He couldn't do this. They couldn't. For so many reasons, not the least of which involved the fact that they were high, together, for the first time.

"What?" she breathed, mouth rosier than he remembered it. "It's an experience, right?"

"Maka, shit, no. You're high. I'm high. Everybody's high. Sometimes weed does... things. Makes everything more intense." He swallowed, trying to organize his scattered thoughts and make her understand.

"Mmhm," she agreed. "Kissing feels really good right now." She tilted her head down toward her shoulder so she could kiss his hand, his knuckle, down one of his fingers...

He pulled his hands back. "Whoa, Speed Racer, okay. Slow your roll." He should have thought of this. But why would he think of this?

Confusion flitted over her face as she pulled her drooping shirt up to cover her shoulder. "Why?"

"Because... because... it's us, Maka. You don't want to do that with me. You want to do that with..." His voice faded away from him, because he could not think of a single person he thought she should be doing that with.

They weren't complete amateurs, either of them. They'd talked about stuff, sure. After a day of ribbing, she told him all about the guy she'd let get to second base after he'd put up a good fight against her during mock trial. He'd told her about the poorly-executed blow job he'd received at a party once and they'd had a good laugh about it. They'd dated around a little, sort of. They'd kissed people.

But in the end, neither of them had ever had sex, and they both knew it. Kind of hard to get lucky when you spent the majority of your time with your other-gendered best friend. It tended to lead to assumptions.

Maka looked so warm, so calm. "Dumbass," she said. "I want it to be with you because it's you."

The weed was making his brain slow. He tried to get it to speed up. "Huh?" was all he could spit out.

She waved her hand around the room, sighing and looking at the ceiling. "I don't want it to be some one-night stand, or with some guy I just met who tells me nice things and then fucks off after a month." Her throat bobbed as she swallowed and looked him in the eye. "At least I know you'll still be here in the morning. And the morning after that. On and on."

His jaw worked, but no sound came out. It had crossed his mind, sure. He'd even dreamed about it a handful of times, in that weird way that you sometimes dreamed about getting it on with a random person from math class.

"Maka," he said, his voice lost and small. Maka, who'd dressed his hand when he'd punched a hole through the bedroom wall of his family home. Maka, who yammered about human rights and rainforests and the economy until he thought his head would cave in. Maka, who would get a bagel with lox sometimes just so she could give him the lox.

He was leaning back on his hands, legs stretched across the floor. She crawled over him until she straddled his thighs, sitting herself down in his lap before reaching a tentative hand out to run her fingers from his temple to his jawline. She traced her thumb over his bottom lip.

He was out of excuses. A few stray voices in his head tried to tell him that sex changed things, but he knew they were full of shit. It wouldn't change things with her. They'd been through too much. They knew each other too well.

"Are you absolutely, completely, totally sure about this?" he asked.

"Of course, goofball." She leaned in and pressed her lips to his; gentle, soft, and sweet. The same kiss she'd pressed to his forehead or his cheek a hundred times. She pulled back and smiled. "It's you."

Neither of them moved. She shifted a little and cleared her throat. "Are you?" she asked.

Weirdly, he realized he was. He nodded. "Yeah."

"So, Soul," she said, her face fragile and open. "Wanna fool around or something?"

"I've been rocking a semi for the last five minutes, so I'm going to go with yes."

She laughed, cupping either side of his face and kissing him hard. This time, he was ready. He leaned into her, wrapping his arms around her ribs and hugging her against his torso. The music kept playing, and their tongues slid together in time, flicking and swirling. It wasn't long until their surprised giggles turned into hums and pants.

It was too hot, so shirts came off. He ran his fingers over the place where her bra met her breasts, enjoying every little hitch in her breath. She reached in front to unclasp it, and holy shit, her tits were awesome. He'd seen her in a bikini before, but this was an entirely different experience, an entirely different context. His mouth was on them before he'd even stopped to think about it, teasing, licking. She arched against him and it was like he was inside his body and out of it. He was himself, kissing this ball of light and fury he'd known for most of his life, and he was someone else, someone about to make it with a woman and who thought he was really hot shit.

His half-wood had become a full-blown boner, and she noticed. Oh, did she notice. She slid against it and he moaned, he moaned, and she did it again a little harder. He responded in kind, bracing himself with a palm on the floor and raising his hips to meet hers, once, twice, thrice. A thought scampered through her brain, screaming oh my god are we seriously dry humping, and she waved it away, thinking, yes, yes we are.

The thought of doing it without their pants on suddenly occurred to her and she broke away, looking down at him. Soul's eyes were almost unfocused, his expression dazed and half-lidded.

"Okay?" he gasped.

"Okay," she replied. "Bed."

"Yeah."

She scrambled off him and he flipped over onto his knees, feeling underneath the futon for the latch that made it lie flat. He found it and the thing slid into place with a soft creak. He stood, turning, and she was waiting, jumping up to meet him, legs around his waist.

"You weird little spider monkey," he breathed into her neck, lowering her down onto the bumpy mattress so they could resume humping with vigor.

Having him on top of her was strange and exhilarating. It brought back memories of tickle fights, which would have made her laugh if she weren't arching and gasping instead. Instead of sliding, he rocked into her, his hardness pressing against her heat. It was really nice for about a minute, but then it started to ache.

She licked along his ear, bringing out a full body shiver that made her very happy, and whispered, "Soul."

"Hnnnngggg," came his response from where his face was buried in the crook of her neck.

"Soul, do you think you could... AH... maybe..."

He stilled a little, raising up on his elbows to look down at her. "Hmn?" he grunted.

She pointed down, feeling her face warm. "Could you, um. With your fingers, or maybe your, uh..."

"Oh," he said. "OH. Yeah. Hell yeah."

He grinned like a devil, planting one more kiss on her mouth before making his way down her sternum, saying another hello to her breasts, and then trailing down her stomach until he reached the button of her shorts. He made short work of it and was digging his fingers into the waistband when he looked back up at her.

"You're sure this is still cool?" he said.

"Yes," she murmured. "God, yes."

She lifted her hips and he pulled her shorts off, her underwear along for the ride. She was officially stark naked and he was taking it all in. He didn't do anything for a minute and a panicky feeling fluttered in her chest.

He met her eyes, his lips swollen from kissing and arousal. "Maka, you are..."

"What?" she breathed, feeling suddenly self-conscious.

"You are like, stupid hot."

She kicked out at him and he caught her under the knee, bending it and laying a gentle kiss on the inside, smiling against the tender skin as he worked his way down one inner thigh and then the other. Delightful tension shivered down, all directed to her center, and she made contented noises as he worked. She felt him spread her a little wider and gasped in anticipation, reaching out to grab the dresser behind her. She waited...

... and when nothing happened, she looked down. Soul was still down there, kneeling on the floor so he was at the right angle, but he wasn't moving. He stared, right at the crux between her legs.

"Uh," he said, a rosy blush coloring his cheeks and nose.

"Oh god, what?" she said. "Is it weird-looking?"

A nervous laugh escaped him. "No! I mean, it looks like I think it should look? I'm not sure. I haven't seen many in person."

She smirked down at him.

"Okay, any. I haven't seen any in person."

She covered her breasts with her hands, giggling to the ceiling despite her own nerves. "You've never done this before."

"You know I haven't done this before. You're with me all the time. Don't laugh, asshole!"

"I'm not laughing."

"Okay," he said, cracking his neck. "Okay, I'm doing it."

"You're not going BASE jumping."

"Close enough."

With one final kiss to her thigh, he dipped low, and she felt a tidal wave of heat pulse through her as his tongue took a long draw over everything, from her opening all the way up to the place where her hair curled.

He looked up to see her with her head thrown back, hands still pressed against her breasts.

"So yeah, then?" he said.

"Shut the fuck up and do it again," she answered.

He complied, teasing, testing, finding the places that made her thighs twitch on either side of his head. At one point, after he'd run his tongue over her most sensitive spot, swollen with need, he popped up again like some ridiculously handsome meerkat.

"Oh," he said.

"Oh?" she panted back at him.

"I think I found..."

"Yes, you found it," she whined. "Use the knowledge for good."

And he did, returning to the only lesson she'd ever seen him truly dedicate himself to. He licked a slow circle and her entire body tensed in the most delicious way.

"Whatever you just did," she breathed. "Keep doing it."

So he continued, mixing up slow languid circles with quick flicks and sucks.

Oh, she was getting close. He seemed to be able to tell, because his movements became quicker, more desperate. Tentatively, he put a finger at her entrance and, with her encouragement, slid it inside, his hard-on pulsing to its own beat as he felt how slick and hot she was. He moaned into her and she moaned back.

He kept exploring and suddenly found a spot that made her keen.

"There, oh god, there," she squeaked, her hands twisting knots in his sheets and holy Christ he didn't think he'd ever seen anything as hot as that.

He kept going, determined to make her keep crying out like that. Her walls tensed around his finger, her breaths turning more and more erratic, and then...

"Oh my god, Soul, oh my god ohmygodohmygaaaaaaaaaaah."

Her hips bucked and he used his free hand to still her, to keep her from tossing him off as she pulsed and went sticky in his hand. He slowed, not stopping until her movements ceased. He blinked. Had that really just happened? It felt like he'd been down there a lifetime and no time at all.

He risked a look up at her and found her looking right back down at him, chest still heaving, hair splayed. The look she was giving him sent a brand new wave of electricity through him.

"Did I knock that shit out?" he said.

"Yeah," she sighed. "Yeah, you did good."

He grinned, wiping at his chin and crawling back up to lay beside her. He traced his fingers along her arm and could've sworn they left a glowing trail.

After a contented moment, she turned to the side and caught his mouth in hers. He responded in kind, his dick still ready for action, but he didn't want to press the issue. She'd started this. He'd let her finish it, if she wanted.

She pulled back just enough to smile against his lips. "Do you have a condom?"

His cock responded to the word "condom" like she'd called it by name. He pressed into her, something small and very excitable attempting to claw its way out of him.

"As a matter of fact," he said, shifting and reaching for his dresser drawer - the same place he stored his socks and his weed. He dug around until his fingers found a small box, pulling it out and handing it to her.

She turned it in her hands. "It's open," she said. There was a question in her voice.

"I, uh." He grinned into his pillow. "I may have tried one on once. Just to see what it was like."

They stared at each other for a second before bursting into peals of laughter. She kicked her feet against the bed, gasping for breath, and turned to kiss him repeatedly on his stupid, pretty mouth.

"You." Kiss. "Are." Kiss. "Such a." Kiss. "Fucking." Kiss. "Dork."

"Hopefully I'm literally going to be a fucking dork in a minute."

Their kisses turned slower, deeper. He drew her into him and she lifted her leg to wrap around his. He nuzzled her and kissed the place where her ear met her jaw.

"If you're done, that's cool," he said. "We don't have to. If you changed your mind."

In answer, she ran a hand down his happy trail and undid the button of his jeans like she'd done it a million times before.

"Oh, you're getting yours," she said. She sat up and started inching down his pants. He lifted his hips off the bed to make it easier.

Then there he was, in all his glory, standing at attention.

"Wow," she said.

"Thanks."

"I mean, I don't know how to gauge a good one from a bad one, as far as these things go, but it looks like a pretty good one."

"I like to think so."

The banter hid their nerves. She reached out, brushing her fingers over his length and mapping it out while he swallowed thickly. Cautiously, she wrapped her hand around the shaft and gave it an experimental pump.

"Ah," he said, reaching down to her hand.

"Sorry," she breathed. "Sorry. Did I hurt you?"

"No," he said. "You just might not want to... pregame. Not if you actually want to use it." He raised his heated gaze to hers and she pressed another kiss to his mouth.

He ran his fingers through her hair. "How do you want to do this?"

"I'll be on top," she said. It made the most sense. She figured she could aim and control things a little better that way.

"Maka gets what Maka wants." He beamed up at her, finding the box and digging into it to grab a circle wrapped in foil. He went to open it and she stayed his hand.

"Let me do it?" she asked.

He let her slip the condom from his fingers. She opened it, trying to recall that awkward day in health class so long ago as she slid the slippery rubber into her hands. Find the tip, pinch it between her thumb and forefinger...

"You look like you're about to perform surgery," he chuckled.

"Do you want your dick touched or don't you?" she quipped back.

He held up his hands in surrender, his grin a mile wide.

She slid the condom over the head, rolling it down like she was supposed to. He winced a little at first, but it turned into an "mmmm" as she got closer to the base.

Condom on. Moment of truth.

She swung herself over his hips, reaching between her legs to find him. It was awkward and it took a minute, but she managed to get him in position. He sucked in his breath when he felt himself at her entrance and his hands went to her hips.

"Maka," he said. She looked him in the face, watching him, full of love and friendship and trust.

And she began to sink down.

It was the best kind of agony, going slow while her body acclimated. She had to pause twice to readjust or hold him in place, but soon their hips met. They just laid there for a minute, a million thoughts and sensations running through them both. He dug his fingers into her, desperate for her to move and terrified that she would. She was so beautiful and so familiar and so Maka above him that he could barely stand it.

She rose. And sank back down.

He died a little.

She did it twice more before he stopped her.

"Fucking Christ God Jesus Lord," he said. "I am a fucking loser, but could you... rock? I think if you rock I'll be able to keep from blowing it too fast."

"Oh." Her breath was coming short. "Yeah, that's... that's good."

"Believe me, if I'd known I'd be getting laid tonight, I would've jerked off or something before you got here."

She laughed, her body shaking over his and he was laughing, too.

"Oh god that makes it worse," he groaned. "I can feel you laughing all around me."

She leaned forward, hands on his chest, and rolled her hips. His eyelids fluttered and he bit his lip, and it was almost too much for her to take, knowing she was the one causing that little furrow in his brow.

Somehow they managed to find a rhythm that stoked the fire slowly, rather than pouring lighter fluid on the flame. Time slowed as they moved together. They never took their eyes off one another, committing to memory every microexpression, every hitched breath, every small cry. The place where they met grew tense and hot, but it couldn't compare to everything else. The way her hair fell across her face, the brush of his fingers across her belly.

Soul sat up, unable to stand being so far from her, even as they were connected. One hand splayed behind him for support, the other wrapped around her lower back. Their movements grew quicker, more feverish. They kissed, and kissed again, and again. The steady rhythm was forgotten. He was edging on chaos, standing at the summit.

There was a single moment when their foreheads touched, when he flicked his eyes up and she did the same and they stared deep into each other. In that moment, Soul fully grasped with absolute clarity that he was inside her, inside his best friend, the person he loved beyond anyone else in the world. The only one he might actually die for.

And in that moment, he came. He came really fucking hard. So hard that it surprised him.

"Uhmyfuckingchrist," he groaned, body curling forward into her, into his Maka.

It caught her by surprise, too, and not in a bad way. When his eyes suddenly slammed shut, his eyebrows pulling together and his jaw going slack as he shuddered forward and cried out, a line of pleasure went through her whole body because it was incredible to watch him come undone.

They slowed to a stop. He thought he was spent, that he could do no more, but then she squeezed him. Inside. She tightened around him, just a little, and he twitched with an aftershock, a small echo of what had come before. Then she did it again. Then he heard her giggle.

"You saucy motherfucker," he mumbled into her hair.

"Dorkfucker is probably more accurate."

"Oh god, we did, didn't we?" He sat back. "We fucked. Holy shit, we just fucked. I'm still all up in there right now. How did this happen?"

"Is your brain still on drugs?"

"Kinda." He shifted and they both hissed out a breath from the overstimulation between their legs. "Did you have a... Did I take care of you?"

She kissed his forehead. "You got me before."

"Oh," he said, his blush creeping up again. "Now I feel like a loser."

"Don't," she said, playfully cuffing him upside the head. "We're new at this. You did good." She paused. "It was good."

"Good," he said. "Yeah, it was... yeah. I'd say better than good on my end." He cleared his throat and moved his hand to her hip. "We should probably..."

"Right," she said, bracing herself on his shoulders and slowly rising off him while he reached down and held the condom in place. He sighed a little when he slid free of her.

She rolled onto the mattress near the wall and he plied her with kisses before saying, "I'll be right back."

He grabbed his boxers and went to the bathroom to take care of things. By the time he got back, she'd replaced her underwear and shirt and was reclining on her side, watching her own fingers pick out an invisible beat to the music that still played. He laid back down beside her and they both rolled onto their backs, heads together, watching the flame dance on the ceiling some more.

"I'm gonna miss you like fucking hell," he said.

She laced her fingers with his and squeezed. "You have to come see me on your days off. Every single one. I'll visit on weekends."

He pulled her closer, wrapping her in a hug as she rested her head on his chest. "What if I moved?"

"Moved? Like, near me?"

"Yeah," he said, feeling the idea growing in him. "There's nothing tying me here. I don't talk to my parents. Wes is gone. School's done. I can find a job and another shitty apartment anywhere. I can toss everything I own in my car."

She turned her head to meet his eyes, scared and more than a little hopeful. "I can't ask you to do that."

"You're not asking. I'll have to find a new dealer, but..."

She pinched him, and he pinched her back, and soon they were rolling around beating one another with cushions and laughing. When they were spent, she smacked him one more time for good measure and leaned up against the wall.

"If I have a cool roommate, maybe you can squat in my dorm room until you find a place," she said.

"Hopefully they're cool, because we should probably make this a regular thing." A sly grin spread over his face.

She made a "tch" sound in the back of her throat. "Don't count on it."

His smile faltered as an unexpected sting spread through his chest.

She caught the look on his face. "Oh, no. No, that's not what I meant!" She leaned over and kissed him. "I just meant you're not turning me into a burnout. That's all." Another kiss. "It was fun, but I think I prefer sex to smoking. I'd like to try it again. Sober."

"Such a goddamn straightedge," he said, returning her kisses.

"You do kind of taste like bong water," she said.

When they left his apartment in the morning to go get breakfast, Rita was leaning against her doorframe with a knowing smile on her face.

"Hey, Rita," Soul said as he locked his door. Maka waved.

The older woman just chuckled. "It took about a year longer than I thought it would. Try to keep it quiet after eleven, please." She tapped the side of the building and winked. "Thin walls."

When she went back inside, Soul slowly turned back to Maka, his shoulders hunched up in embarrassment.

Oh my god, she mouthed at him.

He pulled his hoodie up over his head and they both broke into nervous laughter as they walked toward his car.

They had the weirdest relationship. Other students knew he didn't go to the school, even though he followed her around to events and rallies and parties. The way they moved around each other betrayed familiarity, even intimacy, though it lacked the twitterpated newness displayed by most other couples on campus. She was whip-smart, quick to anger, determined to win. He was always leaning up against something, smoking, rolling his eyes when she started going on too long.

Their fights were still catastrophic, their make-ups still just as bewildering. No one could figure out if they were best friends or something else.

Except every once in a while, when someone went off the beaten path to walk behind a building, they'd spot the pair alone in their own private universe and witness her pulling him down for a kiss that made the earth stand still.