Disclaimer: I do not own Soul Eater.

i only want what i can't have
by. Poisoned Scarlett

Soul believed the hardest part of this entire agreement would be getting Maka out of her clothes.

Turns out he was wrong.

"What's the entire point if you're gonna' hide under the sheets?!"

Maka pinks and hunkers down, narrowing her eyes at him. "I-I'm not hiding!"

Soul gives the sheet wrapped around her shoulders a candid look.

Maka flushes but huffs at the teasing grin that curls his lips right after. "I—just want to make sure you're really in this! If you're doing this because you feel obligated to or—!"

"I'm not doing this because I feel obligated to, Maka, m'doing it coz I want to help you out—of my own will," Soul cuts her off before she can say anything more on the matter. It's a topic that's been touched far too much as it is; he's sure, but now he's dubious she's sure of this. "It wasn't cool of you to shoulder all that stress like that, without telling—anyone, basically." His eyes trace down her exposed side. He looks away when she shifts and the sheet covers her again. He is sitting on the edge of his mattress, stripped down to his boxers, and she is naked underneath his comforter. His bedside lamp barely lights his bedroom; it's dim enough where he can get around, but not enough to know for certain if her thigh was really covered or not. "You said it yourself: best friends help each other however they can….right?"

"I-I did, but this is all backwards, I didn't mean it that way!" Maka protests, burying her face in his comforter. She doesn't know how Liz convinced her to take up his offer; she doesn't know why Soul offered in the first place. He's her best friend. He doesn't owe her this; no one does, ever. She's just really afraid of messing this up just because of a suggestion that had sounded, in her sleep-deprived desperation at the time, pretty reasonable. "Soul, let's be honest: this can't be right, we're not even—this isn't even—!" She flusters.

"It doesn't have to be romantic," Soul interrupts, sharply. He swallows the lump in his throat. He knows it's wrong; they're crossing a line friends (best friends) should never cross. He doesn't know if he can erase his presence—his feelings—beyond that border if things go awry. But he's willing to take a risk because even if he cannot erase his touch from her body, he can pretend he has. He can pretend just as well as Maka can—even better, he thinks wanly, because he grew up in a social sphere where pretending was how one managed to get around successfully. "Sex isn't always about romance, y'know, it doesn't have to be."

"We're not having sex!" Maka immediately protests.

"I'm getting you off."

Maka flushes. "B-but isn't sex! You're just…going to…" She struggles then sighs. "This is a form of sex, isn't it?"

"Not shit Sherlock," Soul snorts. "I'm going to eat you out, that's oral sex. We learned about this in high school."

"Shut up!"

"What? It's true!"

"You don't have to say it so bluntly!"

"You did worksheets!"

Maka shoots him a dark look that softens, her green eyes lowering to his incredibly soft sheets. She grips his comforter closer to her naked body before sneaking a glance at Soul. He has his elbows on his knees, not looking at her as she had ordered him to when he walked into his bedroom. He's the only one she trusts with this and that's why she's doing it. He had overheard a conversation that should have never been in the first place, but his offer had been completely of his own volition. She doesn't know why he asked, doesn't want to think about it, because it hurts and she doesn't want to hurt, she wants to feel good and pretend they're in love.

And if that isn't a sign of how her parents fucked up marriage messed with her, she doesn't know what is. Maka inhales, calms herself—she's better than her father.. She's sure that if anyone else but Soul had offered her this chance, she would have shut them down. Liz's suggestion sounded nice in theory; in practice, it made Maka blanch.

But Soul—he never made her blanch, he never made her feel low, bad, weak or afraid; he was comfort in human form, he was—

Home, her treacherous mind whispers, but she swallows the word and stuffs it away like all the other times.

"If you ever want to stop," Maka begins. "Tell me. We can talk about it and figure something out from there. This is a big step."

"I won't stop," Soul finally looks at her. The dim light swims in his burgundy eyes, illuminating them a gentle shade. Maka has to rip her gaze away from his, heart in her throat. "If you wanna' stop, though, just tell me. Uh, do we make up a safety word just in case?"

"This isn't anything that extreme!"

"Nooo," Soul smirks, relieved for the usual tension between them. "But I'm pretty sure I can make you scream—!" He winces when Maka whacks him on the head, hissing at him to watch his tongue before she postponed their tryst.

"I'll just push you away if I feel uncomfortable," Maka states briskly, nodding more firmly after. "I'll tell you to stop, too."

"Alright," Soul takes a deep breath, turning to her. "We'll take it slow." His bedroom is big and soundproof and he has the best bed (a king to her twin) suited for what they are about to do. Or, rather, what he is about to do to her because Maka had insisted they not have penetrative sex. But Soul doesn't mind; he has never minded, he doesn't even mind being a virgin at twenty one despite his cool guy image, despite the rumors of his many conquests. He's fine with rumors, he's fine with images, but with Maka it is has always been real and raw and painful and he will take what he can get, whenever he can. The world can shape him into whatever image they want, so long as Maka knew who he truly was, Soul didn't really care about others.

Selfish, comes to mind as he clenches his cold hand, eyes taking a headier look as they drink in Maka's curled up form, her wide doe eyes and pretty pink cheeks—pretty pink lips, parted, her throat jerking with every thick swallow, the sheet falling from her shoulder—creamy pale skin that he wants to worship with soft touches, wants to press down into his mattress and feel flush under his palm.

He just wants something he can't have and if this is the closest he will come to it, if this is how he can make her happy until he figures out a better way to, he'll take what he can get.

"Lie on your back," Soul tells her, falling on his knees by the edge of the bed. Maka looks at him nervously, cheeks going from pink to red. He grins a lazy grin that makes her blush harder. "If you were ugly, I wouldn't even consider this," and catches the comforter when she balls it up and throws it at him with a screech of his name.

"What? If I were ugly, you wouldn't consider it, either!" He pulls it off his face and his smile leaves his face, his throat all tight with things he wants to say and things he definitely cannot say. His hands shake but he hides it in the comforter, his eyes darting to her perky breasts, the peaked, pink buds, the way she looks at him so abashedly that he wants to lean over and mouth her name against her lips.

"Shut up," Maka pouts. "I would, too, you know!"

Soul squints in disbelief. "Doubtful."

"I would!"

"Ehhh…"

"I would! You're my best friend no matter what you look like and that's all that matters to me! I trust you!" Maka insists, leaning forward in that confrontational way she's known for—all passion, fire, green eyes bursting with so much heat, he thinks this is why he gravitates towards her so much.

And it immediately hardens his resolve. I won't let some dirt-bag just use her and make her feel like her old man made her mother feel, he thinks suddenly, so surely it's incredible how Maka's courage and passion can inspire him so easily. That is, before reality sets in and his eyes age a few years and he pushes back bitter feelings of second place. He's had troubled thoughts and a self-esteem to match since he can remember, but the reasons behind them are always too good to ignore. Not yet, she won't be out of my reach yet. I can still…protect her, for now.

Until she decides it's time to move on and find someone—better.

"Q-quit being a baby!" He forces out instead and swallows back a wound that has not happened. He throws the comforter to the side and kneels before her, sinking back on his thighs. "I told you I'd eat you out as a friend, so that's what I'm gonna' do. We cool?"

"I…yeah, we're cool," she smiles. She cannot look at his dark eyes without wanting to clench her thighs, no longer their burgundy shade under the lamplight. She cannot help the way her heart thuds at his low tone, her lower region aches and throbs with anticipation. She's never been touched by a man but she's sure Soul has touched many girls, he must have, he looks so calm sitting there staring—no, watching her, her body, the way her chest rises and falls, how her nipples harden under his gaze. She tries not to think about those nameless, faceless, girls because her jealousy cannot ruin the mood tonight, not tonight, because what she cares about the most is what this will mean to him now, in the present, not previously, in the past, not the other girls—but her, only her for now.

Soul has always given her his attention, even when he doesn't want to.

He has a special place in his heart for her, romantic or not.

But she wants something she cannot have (but can now, in this way, for a little bit) and an overheard incident in a hallway coupled with Liz's explicit manner of speaking landed her with this golden opportunity that she will not waste. She may be all business and friendly laughter outside but what she has with Soul is different: it's real and raw and painful and she will take what she can get, even if her thoughts whisper that she's only digging herself into a deeper grave with every move.

Maka faces him again, taking a breath to control her nerves. She is about to spread her legs when he places a hand on her knee, hot as a brand, and when she looks back up at him, he's rolling his eyes at her.

"Quit thinking so much, or else you won't enjoy it and then you'll go tell everyone how bad I am with my mouth."

"You talk like you're actually good! You told me you've never done this before!" Maka grumps, sucking a breath when he parts her legs for her. Maka wants to clamp her thighs shut when she realizes he's staring, but he doesn't let her, and when he looks up with his signature wicked grin, she finds she doesn't want to anyway. His teeth seem sharper under the lamplight and Maka feels herself grow wetter when she spies his tongue running over the roof of his mouth thoughtfully.

"Haven't, but I gotta' feeling I'll get the job done," he drawls and then leans in, his breath hitting her inner thigh, brushing her swollen clit, making her shudder despite herself. He guides her flat on her back with his hand and gives her a thumbs up once she's nice and comfy, using some of his many pillows to prop herself up. She can only see his spikey mass of white hair between her thighs and her face becomes sixteen shades of red when she realizes just what, exactly, is happening.

"Just don't crush my head, yeah?"

"Um," Maka stutters, moving a leg awkwardly in. She only bumps Soul's head so she spreads her legs wider, then back closed, then groans when he snickers at her odd attempts at, well, she doesn't even know, she just needs something to do. "Shut up! Th-this is embarrassing!"

"Maka, you're fine, just relax and let me do this!"

"But…"

"Just tell me what you like as I do it," he says, so bluntly that she sighs loudly. "Yeah?" She stomps a foot by his arm and he laughs affectionately, deep chuckles reach nooks inside of her she didn't know existed. When she peeks between her fingers, he's resting his cheek against her knee with such a fond, soft, half-smile that it makes her face darken because when he smiles at her like that she gets all nervous and her heart gets all whacky, like it can't figure out a rhythm to set on, and then her chest, her chest becomes warm with affection and admiration and—

"I…I'll tell you as you do it."

He hums and runs his palm down her inner thigh comfortingly, as if marveling her skin. She doesn't know it, but he is—her skin is soft, softer than he believed it would be, and he takes his time running his palm down her long legs—parts of her body he thought he would never be able to touch, never like this, so intimately. His eyes fall to the one part of her he only ravaged in his darkest of dreams and feels his mouth water despite himself.

She feels his fingers suddenly touch her, slip between her folds and slide up to her throbbing, wet clit curiously and then has to gasp back a surprised gasp, her knees squeezing his shoulders in her shock. It feels unexpectedly good, surprisingly hot, but that doesn't stop her hands from trembling just a little.

"Whaaaa—your hands are freezing—!"

"My bad. My mouth might be warmer!"

Maka squeals, delight and surprise in one, and before she can reprimand him for that pervy answer, he's already proving his words true. "A-ahhnn, Soul—THERE!"

Maka shuts her eyes and arches her back and takes what she can get as he sucks back drool and kisses her again, open-mouth.

He's good at this now.

He learns much better when it's a hands-on activity, Maka found herself thinking once during class. Soul is annoyingly sharp, his observation skills better than one would peg them to be. With her prompting and guidance, he'd learned her cues, what she liked and what she didn't just by her physical reaction, what made her fist the sheets and what made her moan softly, guttural, loudly.

Soul has never been one to jot down notes during lectures, but when it comes to things he needed to physically do, Soul has always succeeded. She always comes slightly behind in those cases. But it is nothing a little reading up on the side could not fix.

"Stop spelling out dumb things with your tongue!" Maka warns, blowing out a giggle when he lets the flat of his tongue run up from the bottom of her slit until he's sucking her clit in forgiveness. Sometimes she doesn't pay attention to what letters he licks against her folds, but other times she does, and usually they make her groan-giggle because they're nonsense. He peeks at her from between her thighs and Maka glares down at him from between her breasts. His other hand is groping her left breast; she closes one eye as he gives her tit a little squeeze, his thumb running over her nipple pleasantly. "I can feel it, Soul!"

"I'm not spelling out dumb things," he whines, grabbing her leg by the underside of her knee and letting go of her breast. He hoists her leg up on his shoulder and pushes her other one out for more room. She has a habit of attempting to squeeze his brain out from his skull when she comes. He can't say he hates it, but this afternoon he isn't in the mood to be gasping for breath. "Just wrote out cool and my name," he cackles when she tries to kick him. "Alright—alright, I'll stop messing around—we got like, two hours," Soul tells her, glancing at the clock overhead. "Then Wes comes home."

"He really likes eating with you for some reason," Maka teases, sucking in a hiss when Soul leans forward and buries his nose into her swollen folds as he tongued her opening in that way she likes. He's back to kneading her tit, massaging her side with his palm—slightly under her arm, right where it makes her squirm and she finds herself panting for breath. "Y-you're such a slob," she cries out, eyes shut in delight, "when you eat!"

"Only coz you make such a mess," Soul quips back, giving her clit a noisy suck when she protested. It was enough to cut her shout into an impromptu moan, one that resonated straight down to his cock as her hips rocked under his mouth and she rubbed herself against his tongue. Soul squeezes her tit tighter now, moving his hand to pleasure its twin. He easily ignored his throbbing need; it was easy to ignore his erection now. The first few times he had eaten her out, his boner had been a painful reminder throughout. He had eventually resorted to massaging his cock as he ate her out, coming with her usually, but on the times he did not, he had no problem coming within the next few seconds. Maka's moans were erotic: they were breathy, excruciatingly cute squeaks, and so full of pleasure. It always brought goosebumps to his skin—surprising, because he has lost count how many times his mouth had acquainted itself with Maka's pussy, but he's sure it's been more than twenty at this point and he's only ten percent embarrassed he's kept count.

Today she comes quickly, unable to stop herself from tipping over the edge when he slips his fingers into her. That's always her undoing: feeling two digits slide into her, rubbing her walls, curling—it needs to start off soft, then get more rigorous. It's always when he's thrusting his fingers quick and hard into her that she unravels into a hot, writhing mess that has Soul grinning from his position between her thighs.

"Ah," Maka recalls, surfacing from her orgasm. That's right… Maka remembers, her eyes fluttering open, her body lax and comfortable under his plethora of pillows. I wanted to ask…He asked me before, if it would be okay if we went all the way. But— It's wrong, of course. He's her friend, her best friend. To go the entire nine yards with her best friend would make them 'friends with benefits' although, Maka reminds herself guiltily, they basically were already. It's what they agreed on, but it'd be more real if they actually went all the way. But he doesn't let me help him out, Maka frowns. She had realized two sessions into their oral frenzy that Soul also had a problem downstairs, a very prominent problem that he usually waved off despite her insistence.

At first she believed it was because Soul wanted to keep their relationship as it was: he loosens her up from a long day of difficult classes with the handy aid of his tongue, but he keeps himself removed from the situation. Maka always believed it was because he wanted to keep them at a distance, but she soon came to realize it was only because—

"Soul…"

"Hn?" Soul wipes around his mouth and chin with a baby wipe from the box he kept in his bedside drawer. He also had an assortment of other sexual related things he is sure he will never use, but he had been nervous those many weeks ago. He had overbought, but he knows he can give some things away if he was sure he'd never use them. "I hope Wes brings meatloaf for lunch," he stretches. "I haven't eaten beef in a while. He keeps bringing home chicken for some reason." Maka follows the way his undershirt clings to his toned figure. She looks away before he notices, turning her head away as doubt begins to fill her.

She had been against engaging in such things with her best friend because, honestly, her thoughts kept straying back to her father and his flighty ways. Liz had been the one who had ruffled her hair and softly told her that where her father had many, many sexual partners, Maka would just have one. She would have Soul, the man she trusted above all others, and her first sexual experience would be gentle and nice and actually meaningful because she cared about Soul a lot. She can't deny the afternoons spent with Soul in bed were the best ones she's had yet—their conversation, the way he always caressed her thighs while she curled just inches underneath his arm, their comfortable silence.

It's never getting any better than this, right? As friends with benefits?

It was all so nice and perfect and neat that Maka could almost believe that they were in lo—

"A-as a testament of our friendship," Maka coughs, not looking at him. She trusts him with this. She wants it to be him—him, because he's her best kept secret and the only place that has felt like home for a long time. "I think we should have sex."

"…What?"

Maka flushes, losing her courage at his gaping face. "Y-you said you wouldn't mind!"

"Wha—no, I, uh, I don't, but, you were the one who said we'd keep it strictly oral!"

"That was before I realized it—!" She stops herself, her face coloring.

"It what?" He prompts, eying her.

"It….it would be so n…nice," she mumbles, ignoring his pleasantly surprised expression. She shakes off her nerves and soldiers through: "If you don't want to because you don't feel comfortable, that's fine! But I feel comfortable enough with you to go that far so I just wanted you to know!" She rushes the last bit, feeling his stare bore through her.

"Yes."

Maka looks up, cocks her head at his sudden coughing.

"I mean, yeah."

"Really?" Maka perks up.

"Yeah. I'm cool with it if you are."

It's hard to fight down her excitement. "Okay! I don't think I have any homework—no, I do, I have a test on Friday. It's worth twenty five percent of my grade, so I have to study hard these next few days," Maka frowns, pondering it a little more. She's felt much better after she and Soul began to fool around, she isn't going to lie. The pressure that sometimes tempted her to tear her notes in half and give up was suddenly halved and Maka can't decide if it's because of the sex or because she tells Soul of her long-suffering after—when she's dozing beside him, curled up under his sheets, his comforting breathing lulling her into such a state of relaxation that she felt okay telling him of her struggles—okay telling him sometimes she couldn't focus, felt too stressed, wanted to stop and just sleep for days on end, was that normal? Was she depressed, did her mother feel this way too—was she failing her mother by feeling like this, like she can't do it?

His fingers in her hair made her feel safe and his soft hums, his soft words, didn't make her feel like she's let someone down.

"If you want we can do it right now," he states, interrupting her reverie. They have little less than two hours until Wes comes home. He's sure that is more than enough time just because he isn't sure about his stamina. He sighs heavily at the thought of lasting less than a minute, but he had edged enough over the past few years to know that at least he could keep his cum to himself for a good few hours. Of course, being inside Maka changed things a lot. He had faith he could hold it together, though. He gives himself an optimistic minute and ten seconds. "Since you're wet enough right now, it should be easy," he leers and she scowls, crossing her arms over her chest.

"It's natural."

"I dunno', Maka, sometimes it just drips off my chin—!"

"Whaaa—shut up, shut up! That's so gross—ugh, do you want to or not, Soul?!"

"Coming," he says instantly, then sniggers and has to catch the pillow she throws at him. He crawls up next to her and reaches into his drawer, rummaging through it. "Uh, a while back I went to the store and bought a lot of stuff I thought I'd need. So," he took out a condom and also a packaged bottle of lube.

"Is that…?"

"Yeah. Black Star once mentioned that it's really useful so I decided to go with it," Soul tells her with a shrug. "I just got this one because it was expensive."

"Soul, just because it's expensive doesn't mean it's good! Give me that!" Maka bristles, sticking her hand out at him expectantly. "Besides, what does Black Star know about sex?" Maka clears her throat, grimacing. Black Star's sex life is not something she wants to know about ever, if she can help it.

"Lot more than me, that's for sure," he grumps but hands the bottle over to her, sitting on the corner of the bed with the single square condom wrapper in his hand. It's as she's reading the directions on the back of the bottle that Soul grows nervous, gulping down at the innocent wrapper in his hand. He knows how to put it on—high school, he thinks, remember high school and the banana—but it's the overall act that he's hesitant about. He struggles with admitting to her that he's never had sex before and winging it when he hears a splurge, and then he snaps his head to Maka to find her pouring a string of lube onto her hand with curiosity.

She looks at him wide eyed, her lips pouty and pink. Caught. "What?"

"Wh-what the hell are you gonna' do with that?"

"Apply it…down here," Maka says slowly, as if speaking to a child. She doesn't point between her legs but he still looks. "I'm just curious about how easy it'd make it—ah, I know you would be the one using it I just—" she fumbles, stilling when he still hasn't looked away. Her face colors a little more, knocking her knees together.

"Hey…can I watch?" At Maka's raised eyebrows, he adds hastily: "I mean, I can't exactly do it if I'm not hard." He points at his boxer shorts, untented and pretty low on his waist. At Maka's hesitant look and the way she huddles in on herself a little, Soul relents. He's lucky, more than lucky really, that she had so much trust in him to do such a thing. "Uh, nevermind. Forget I asked," he looks away. "I can go to the bathroom for that."

"No! Wait, I…"

"It's cool, Maka, you don't have to—!"

"No, I mean, you can—!"

Soul is standing up and Maka's red cheeks are from irritation now:

"Just watch already!"

Soul immediately looks and his breath catches. She has her legs spread, slightly turned to him. Her breasts are perky—they're always so perky, so nice and soft and round. Her tits and ass and legs and shoulders and toes and her entire self is his favorite. He can't see her very well, but it's enough of a tease for him to feel blood rush down to his loins. She doesn't look at him as she reaches down and—Soul swallows hard, heart thudding, hands trembling lightly before they fist by his side. Every time Maka's shoulders move lower, he can see the way her hand rubs over her clit, her lips, in wonder at the slickness. Then the way she reaches a little lower to sink the tips of her fingers into her pussy , so easily, he can see her easily sink in two fingers into herself and the look of interest, the way her eyelids hood with every push of her fingers—Soul has to look away, glancing down to find himself not even half-mast. He's fully erect, cock pushing against his boxers impatiently, throbbing achingly. He places a hand over his crotch and sucks back a groan when his dick twitches at the thought of sinking into Maka's hot, wet—

Alright, cool it. Cool it. Fuck, can't lose it now. He coaches himself. Minute and ten seconds cannot become ten seconds so soon. He's torn the condom when he realizes he has an audience. "…Maka?"

She jumps at being addressed, but has that stubborn look on her face. "W-well, you watched me! I'm just curious…"

"So uncool… alright, whatever," he grumbles, managing to hide his reddening cheeks by focusing on the task at hand. He isn't shy about his dick. To be fair, they had been friends for a long time, and there were many times during the summer where he had stripped down to his boxers in her presence. The days of turning away from her wide, curious eyes was a thing of the past.

Soul rubs the base of his palm down his aching member before he slips a thumb down the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down until they slipped down his knees and hit the floor.

"W…whoa…"

Soul draws himself away from his thoughts to glance at Maka, who is gaping at his—

"What's with that face?"

"It's…a lot different than I thought it'd be… Sorry! I've never…"

Soul feels his blood drain from his face at her guilty smile. "Please don't tell me you've never seen one before."

"I mean, sometimes the pop up ads on my papa's computer show it but I always click out before I can really see it."

There's a pause, then:

"And plus all of those penises are super huge and ridiculous, I'm really glad they aren't actually like that," Maka admits with a sheepish giggle that has Soul looking up at the ceiling in supplication.

"You're such an idiot."

"Shut up! We can't all be as experienced as you!" She bristles and he gives her a strange look, one she ignores in favor of glowering at the wall.

"It's not hard to log into a porn site," he snorts softly and crooks a smile at her bristling-kitten growl at him. "Well. Here it is," Soul deadpans but his attempt at being cool falls short with his face burning red. Even his ears feel hot. "This is how it looks like….it's not that pretty."

"Actually, it's kinda…"

He holds his breath.

"…cute…."

Soul groans loudly and buries his face in his palm. "Only you can make me soft with one word!"

"NO! Don't you dare, we're running out of time!"

"So what! It's not like—ughhh, Maka…too late."

"It's not like what? Doesn't sex take a while?"

"Uh," Soul sputters, caught. "No? I don't know!"

"What do you mean, you don't know?" Maka growls.

"I don't know!" Soul repeats, exasperatedly. "Besides, I doubt it takes long when you're ready to come—or I was, until you called my dick cute!"

"It is—look, nevermind that! What do you mean, you won't last?"

"I didn't say that," Soul grits out, glaring daggers at her. This is ridiculous; there was no use trying to skirt around it. Maka would figure it out soon enough, anyway. She always did. "I mean, I've never had sex before, so it's sorta of a pass/fail kinda' thing until I get the hang of it! I don't know how long it's gonna' last, alright? Let's just—see where it goes and work from there," he sighs in defeat, staring at the wall broodily while Maka gapes at him, wide-eyed.

The look on her face is strange: it's a mixture of shock, relief, dread. She doesn't give him a chance to ask before she is pressing her knees to her chest and looking at him in that adorably stubborn way of hers.

"If this is your first time, too…then maybe we shouldn't."

Soul stills, panic making his blood rush.

Maka tucks her hair behind her ear. "Sorry. I didn't know. You should save it for someone that really matters—!

"You matter," Soul cuts her off, then looks away from her surprise. Reel it in, he tells himself, he doesn't want to muck this up with his feelings like that, make her uncomfortable or anything. "I told you, its fine. I don't mind losing it to you just like you don't mind losing it to me."

Maka nods, then her eyes steel again and he can't help the way his lips quirk up in a smile at her determination. "I-I thought you already had, but if that's true, then it's still okay! We can learn," she smiles a little, wiggling her toes against his sheets. "Together."

Its things like that which make him want to crush her into a hug or something equally cheesy. "…Don't tell me you believed those dumb rumors—I was, like, sixteen," he rolls his eyes.

Maka flusters and he instantly knows that she did. He resists a sigh.

"Well, what was I supposed to think?"

"They weren't true?"

"You never denied them!" Maka argues.

"I never denied being raised in the Beverly Hills as a super model or being a member of Daft Punk. Doesn't mean it's not a buncha' bullshit," Soul snorts. He softens his gaze when Maka loses her fire and agrees quietly, pouting at her knees in conflict. "I'm telling the truth…." She can read the sincerity in his eyes. "'Sides, how could I ever get laid with you breathing down my neck about all those remedial classes?" He grins and it manages a giggle out of her, loosening her shoulders and lighting her pretty green eyes to their usual sprightly shade. "So?"

"Are you…?" Her eyes flicker below his waist.

He grins wolfishly. "Give me another show and I will be."

He fully deserved that Maka Chop, but the way she had bitten back a grin as she had done it made it all worth it.

"Are you sure no one is home?"

"No one's home, Maka," Soul repeats for the nth time. "C'mon—you've had your nose in those books for the past two weeks. Midterms are over and I even made sure everyone was gone for this," he complains as they walk downstairs, Maka looking down at her shoes contemplatively. He tries to peer at her expression but she shoves her hand in his face.

"Erugh—Maka!"

"Midterms were a nightmare, you can't expect me to be fully recovered from that yet!" Maka tells him matter-of-fact, running ahead of him. She waits for him downstairs with her hands clasped behind her back, her pigtails hanging low on her head. He wants to unravel them and run his fingers through her hair, grab a thick bunch of it, pull her close and—he feels warmth pool in his stomach and soon he can feel his erection press against his jeans.

"Music theory was hell," is all he says to her, grabbing her by the waist. She squeaks, squeezing his elbow as he leads her towards the white leather couches of the living room. "I survived and you look like you're in one piece." It was a spacious room and he's glad everyone is out—the vaulted ceiling meant sound echoed and Maka, he has learned, isn't particularly quiet when they're in the throes of sex.

"This is the look of a dead person, Soul," Maka chides, giving him a squinty look.

He snorts. "For a dead person, you're pretty lively," he mocks.

"Shut up—that was so bad!"

Soul sniggers, scooting back on the couch while he braces Maka against him lest she fall back. His parents have been gone since Wednesday and his brother does not return from work until late that evening. The maids are on their break day and the single butler in their household is off-duty until his parents return from their concerto in Rome.

"Ow—ouch, wait!"

"S'wrong?" he tenses.

"My leg is cramping up," Maka gripes and he rolls his eyes affectionately, letting her crawl up to her knees until she is straddling him comfortably. She's stretching out her leg when he buries his face between her breasts, his hands coming up to squeezed them tightly while she relaxed in his hold. His hot mouth opens against the swell of her breast, mouthing her hardening nipple eagerly. Her soft moan convinces him to bite down gently on her hard nub, leave a wet spot on her shirt. "Soul, wait up," Maka says distractedly, reaching in her shorts back pocket for her phone. "Tsubaki is calling me. I think it's for the party later."

"Party?" Soul groans. It's enough of a downer for him to let go of her breasts. "It's just Black Star's birthday. It's not like he doesn't have it every year," he closes an eye when Maka bops his head lightly, talking to Tsubaki on the phone while he broodily caresses her thigh. "He's gonna' invite the entire university," he complains, ignoring Maka's cheerful promise that they would be at Liz and Patty's home at six sharp. "He's gonna' spike the drinks again and there's gonna' be a police raid like last year."

Maka rolls her eyes at his paper-thin complaints. "We're going, Soul, you know how excited Black Star is over it. We're his friends, we have to go!"

"We're friends, too, doesn't mean you didn't chicken out and not come to my party that one time!"

"We were fifteen and you never said anything about—about this! I was really underdressed," Maka protests, gesturing to the elegantly decorated living room. It's always different every few months or so. Soul's mother brings in a professional home décor agent to make her living room over every time she grows bored with it. But that evening had been an embarrassing one for her. She'd just ended up giving the gift to the butler before hightailing it home to change. "Besides, I did come…just not when I said I would."

"At least that was the last birthday my parents arranged."

"We picked it up again when you were eighteen," Maka laughs and then squeaks when he hooks his fingers into the waistband of her shorts. He tugs them and she smiles, gripping his shoulder as he wiggles her shorts down the curve of her ass. She helps him when he gets stuck at her thighs and tosses them aside for him.

She's not sure when they became so comfortable removing their clothes for one another. She thinks it has to do with the fact that Soul touches her with such reverence, dispels any doubts she has about her body. He has taking a liking to running his tongue over whatever he can get away with—sometimes on her tickle spots, which quickly cools her blood. He learned this the hard way—or not, Maka thinks, he hadn't looked put-off when she said she wasn't in the mood anymore. He just rolled her over so he could take her spot and turned on the TV in his bedroom, commenting about basketball games and some TV series as he let his own blood cool. But she was naked that time, had only the decency to curl up a little so she wasn't so exposed, and yet they were so much better with each other like this—naked, together, talking as if they were in any other place.

Just like they have gotten much better at having sex.

She can't say if he was horrible or not the first time since she had no one else to compare him to, but she likes to think they did alright for their first time. It didn't hurt as bad as everyone said it would the first time they had sex. It was a burning stretching sensation that peaked in pain, then declined once he was fully sheathed and she adjusted to his girth. He had been suspicious at first, continuously asking her if she was okay, but cleared it off when she waved at him to go, at the time ducking her face out of embarrassment.

It hurt the second time and she realized, as Soul sat on the edge of the bed broody and unwilling to continue if it hurt her so bad, that lube truly helped in so many ways. After that, lube became a constant between them until she was used to his girth. Even then, Maka thinks, it was still a pretty useful product as they got the hang of things…through many, many sessions.

But she didn't come like Liz raved about so wildly or Tsubaki giggled about so secretly during their hangouts. She just felt good, knowing he was inside her, panting so hard against her ear, groaning her name, groping her thighs with his pleasure. That was enough for her, that thrum of pleasure from having his body so close to hers. She hasn't orgasmed from sex yet, but Soul takes care of her before the act—always, he always takes care of her and, when he doesn't, she reminds him with a tug on his ear and he's very obedient to heed her demands.

Another surprise was the tiredness and soreness and basically the way Soul sometimes needed to slow down to catch his breath before continuing. Sex is an exhausting ordeal, a lot more exhausting than she believed it would be, and getting the hang of moving her hips with him had been a nightmare that had Soul snorting out laughter when she growled in frustration. That, she remembers, ended with a smack and mini-argument that had him soft in no time and ended up with them just deciding they'd watch television before trying again when he wasn't so predisposed to sniggering at her pouting.

Then once she did manage to keep up with his rhythm, it was up to Soul not to break it, which she always rolled her eyes at because he always broke it. Not to mention the slower the rhythm, the more her gluts and thighs and just about every muscle in her body ached the next morning. Exercise she hasn't done since high school, she thinks, very good exercise because they don't get so tired anymore—Soul doesn't get as winded, her muscles aren't as sore anymore. Maka thinks they are on a pretty good path.

A path she sometimes fretted over because Soul had slowly begun to test their boundaries recently.

It wasn't just the simple act of sex, which she was satisfied with, but he had begun to factor in other moves that left her supremely spoiled. He has never kissed her on the mouth or anywhere near her face but he licked, nibbled, kissed her neck and anything below her breasts was beyond fine. Maka did not have any issues with it until she, too, began to test his limits. To her surprise and unease, Soul did not seem to have any limits. Maka can think of many instances where she had bitten his ear or shoulder—she had even licked up to his cheek at one point and he had only groaned and pumped faster into her, hitting a spot within her that made her jerk in sudden pleasure, want.

But his lack of boundaries makes her uneasy, mostly because she doesn't know what will happen if she goes further. She wants to go further but it's tricky, to kiss her best friend on the mouth as if it means nothing.

She doesn't want it to mean nothing.

She wants a kiss to hold weight, although sex should be something enjoyed between loving partners, right? She's always screamed herself hoarse at her father for his flings and sometimes she is tempted to call Soul and tell him that this thing between them should stop before they took it any further. But she always manages to talk herself out of it, tell herself that she would never think of proposing such a thing to another man unless she was in a committed relationship with them—which isn't likely, she thinks bitterly, not likely when Soul can blow on her wrist and she throbs with want, when he grins at her and her heart cracks with love.

"Don't take off your clothes," Maka tells him, glancing behind her at the hallway that leads to the lobby. "Tsubaki said Patty will be here soon to settle some things for Black Star's party so if we don't finish by then, you can go get the door while I excuse myself to the bathroom."

"Sounds good," he shrugs and nuzzles the underside of her breast, palming her other tit while she takes a slow breath and tells herself to stop trembling under his touch. He's always so sturdy, Maka thinks, squeezing his shoulders. He's always so firm and patient with her. He's focused and Maka wishes she were more focused, too, because then she would not let herself need him like this; so wantonly, with no regard to her deepening affections for him.

She's always been very reckless in the moment.

She tells herself this entire situation with him is a moment and sits on his lap, shifting so the bulge in his pants rubs against her.

Soul spreads his legs, makes himself comfortable against the leather couch, while she digs her knees into his sides and rolls her hips against his. He mouths something against her neck and she giggles despite herself, laughing softly when he sucks on her ticklish spot under her ear playfully.

"St-stop! Soul!" She warns, muffling a choke of laugh. "Soul!" She can feel his grin against her skin before her lips part in a quiet moan, his hands gripping her ass and spreading her cheeks thoughtfully with each thrust. His hands are strong, moving to grip her tiny waist as she uses his shoulder for leverage, and the friction in his jeans is enough to have him breathing harsh, quick gasps—urging her to move harder, faster.

"Maka," he groans, bucking his hips up. "C'mon, I'm gonna' cream my pants if you keep this up."

"You've taken worse," Maka scoffs softly, circling her hips against his. It's his crux, his fall, and he lets his head fall back in a loud moan while his hands cup her ass. She's perfect, he likes to think when they're together like this. He likes to think of all the ways he can say she's perfect without giving himself away. So he grinds her wet pussy against his dick, soft mews punctuating each rock. Maka moans softly when he reaches under her shirt and bra to cup her breast and she lets out a little noise, not a moan or a gasp but something in between. He kisses her neck and then licks down to her collarbone. Maka draws closer and her thrusts become faster, harder when he pulls the neck of her tank top down enough to suck on her nipple and her thrusts become even faster when he gropes her ass hard, his teeth biting the side of her tit enough to make her pleasured ugh resound in the living room.

"Soul," Maka groans, pulling at the back of his hair. He's forced to look up at her, at her hooded emerald eyes, how much darker they are when she's so needy like this, and he grabs her hips and bucks up into her a few times. She hisses, face scrunching with bliss, eyes closing as she mouths his name again, before she rests the side of her cheek against his temple and her soft little mews fill his ears, sweet and aching. She weakly pushes at his shoulder. "Let's lie down so we can finish already, I can't wait anymore!"

"I was thinking," Soul breathes hard against her neck, one arm wrapped around her waist. "We should try something different."

"Different?"

"Let's do it like this."

Maka is not going to lie: although they have stuck with missionary since they first started, it doesn't mean she's never in control. Soul, she has come to realize, comes harder when she takes control, moans louder when she digs her heels into his lower back, when she bites his shoulder and thrusts her hips up into him to assume control because he loses rhythm the closer he comes. He's not submissive, but he touches the border often.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Just let me—!" He lifts her hips off the couch and hastily gets rid of her silk panties. She does not have time to even kick them off her ankle properly before he's unbuttoning his jeans and lowering them enough where his cock could stand at full mast without any obstruction. She feels her cheeks pink as she looks at it and when she looks up, Soul is giving her a mildly disgruntled look to hide his own colored cheeks. "Would you quit staring at it every time?"

"Y-you always stare at me when you're down there!"

"But I kinda' have to since I'm eating you out!"

"Just put on a condom!" Maka bristles. She scoots back a little on his lap while he shuffles out a condom from his jeans pocket, tearing the packet. Then he freezes.

"Uh, wait."

"What?"

"I forgot the lube upstairs. Let me go—!"

"No, it's fine, let's just do it like this," Maka quickly waves off, smiling when he looks at her hesitantly. "I think—I think I can do it without it!"

He gives her a calculating look before nodding, returning to his task of sheathing his cock within the condom. "Fine, but if it hurts, just tell me so I can go get it."

"Mhm," Maka nods and when he's finished, she stands on her knees and shimmies closer to him, hesitant to wrap an arm around his neck but doing it before she could chicken out. He doesn't mind and only sighs in contentment when she grabs his dick to position him at her entrance. Immediately, it's the best idea Soul has had since offering to ease her unbearable frustration through sex in the spirit of camaraderie.

Maka gasps loudly and actually chokes, digging her fingers into the back of his neck as she sinks down on his shaft. He's bigger—he's thicker—no, he's hitting something inside her and she doesn't know what it isbut she feels more pleasure than she has ever felt and she voices it through her teeth, eyes shut tightly. "A-ah! This feels so good—dammit, Soul, move, move, it feels—h-hah, haa, yes, please," and her moans reach a new fevered pitch that Soul reacts to, suddenly, unexpectedly, with his mouth worshipping her breasts and shoulders in a way that makes her cry out louder.

It's easier for her to keep up the pace—she's in control, completely, wonderfully, and Maka spreads her legs and goes faster, all the while Soul groans into her neck as he palms her ass.

"Fuck—shit, Maka, if you liked this so much, why didn't you ask before," he forces out, teeth clenched against the utterly blissful movements of her god-given hips. He caresses them in thanks, thrusting up into her without warning and earning himself the dirtiest moan she has voiced to date. Her chest heaves and he licks her tit, lowering her until she has him completely sheathed within her.

"I didn't know—we always did it one way," Maka trembles, grabbing his waist and tugging. He understands and slides further down the couch, until his neck is bent at an awkward angle but it's perfect for her. He doesn't even care; it feels too good to stop. His lidded eyes watch as she braces herself against the back of the couch, her flushed breasts bouncing with every thrust. He can't help himself and he grabs one, rubbing his thumb over a peak while she moans his name and he twitches inside of her.

"Maka, go—arghhh, that—!" She moves faster and he groans, sharp teeth grinding against each other. He needs—words, yeah, he needs a word that can convey what he needs right now, immediately, and it's out before he can even edit: "Fuck me harder! Maka!" He harshly shouts and she moans, a deep-souled, lustful moan as her hips moving furiously against his. She never did like to disappoint so she fucks him hard and she fucks him good, with one leg propped up on the couch slightly for leverage as she slams her sopping pussy harder on his cock.

"Fine?" she gasps, questioningly, green eyes locked on his.

"Shit," he chokes and narrowly holds onto his cum when she goes faster, fucking herself deeper, her pussy clenching around his as her hooded eyes stare down at him—he feels it, the way she clenches around him in that hot, hot way of hers. And when he forces himself to open his eyes, they zero into the way her tits bounce and her hair falls out of their neat pigtails, her green eyes never leaving his face as she pants. His ears scarcely catch the way their skin slaps against each other, the way the couch is moving, sliding back until it hits the wall again and again and again.

"Maka," Soul's voice cracks with a groan. She's so wet and she her pussy clings onto him so tightly, unbearably good. He can't catch his breath; this is the best thing in the world and if he dies from lack of oxygen, he believes there can't be a better death than this. "Harder!"

"I-I don't think I can," she gasps out. Now she understands why Soul tended to lose rhythm right before he came: it was hard to concentrate when she was bordering on the edge of something wonderful, when she gazed down at his face and he looked like that, sexy with every groan and grit of his teeth, every expletive his mouthed as she grinded her hips harder on his.

She should have known that he'd like it better if she took control for a bit—he always did like that, when she took over, he always told her but she always pegged it as him being lazy. She realizes now he just likes it, likes being in her care, under her watchful eye—security, she briefly ponders, she knows he's never had the best self-esteem but she'll make that better, yeah, she'll—help him with that more—but first—

"I can't go faster—dammit, Soul!"

"You can," he urges.

"Ngh…"

"I know you can," he pleads and when he leans up, his lips brushing the corner of her mouth, and he hisses, "You're Maka fucking Albarn, you're the best there is," she does not disappointment: leaning back to give him some hard pumps that has her crying out with each one, her hands gripping his kneecaps for leverage. He runs a hand up her taut stomach as her back arches. Maka lets her head fall back and she tongues the side of her lip. He would give anything to kiss those lips—he'd do anything to be able to press his tongue against hers, to kiss her lips fully and hard, to bite them in such a way that she'd want more.

Maka roughly thrusts into him fully and he can't hold back when her pussy slides so fucking good around him: he comes with a loud swear and her name, with his fingers dug into her hips hard enough to bruise. She comes a few thrusts after, the loudest yet, the best (first, he thinks hazily, her first sex-given) orgasm yet, and the way she loses strength and sinks back on her thighs is beautiful. She's sweating, breathing just as hard as him, and his body shows her what words cannot when he rights himself and kisses her under her chin gently, caressing her back, her waist, while she wraps her arms under his to grip his shoulders. She comes down from her high with soft purrs and sweet pants of his name.

"Can you do the work from now on?" Soul says after a minute of silence, sated but completely exhausted. "You always do everything better than me," but there is no bitterness or remorse, only amusement and pride, and Maka cannot contain her laughter: she giggles into his shoulder, absolutely satisfied, and by the time they are both facing each other and Maka is glaring at him when he whines that he refuses to return to missionary after that, the doorbell rings.

"That's her, right?" Soul yawns, stretching as Maka grapples for her shorts. Soul reaches over to the side to grab her panties, balling them up and shoving them in his jeans pocket. At her wide-eyed look, Soul sends her a wicked grin, nudging her off him. "Gonna' take these for now. Collateral," he offers as a reason and hurries to the door before she could grab onto his shirt.

He ignores her hiss of his name to head into the lobby, using the mirror on the wall to make sure he looked normal, jeans zipped nice and tidy, and not like he had just been fucked into oblivion by his best friend. When he deems himself presentable, Soul opens the door to welcome Patty inside, who is furiously typing something on her phone.

"Ughhh! Black Star is insane, Souuulll! He wants me to order a water slide, are you kidding me? Do you know how expensive those are, he's crazy! And it's November! It's too cold for that! I'm just getting him a trampoline—he likes trampolines, right, because it's too late, I already ordered it and it is coming in in like two hours—WHERE IS MAKA?" She screeches, tapping her foot.

Soul only blinks lazily. Patty had the worst temper when she was stressed. "Bathroom."

"What's she doing, taking a shit or something? I need her here to help me out! She's known Black Star the longest!"

Soul sniggers at her comment but answers, "She'll be out soon. The nearest bathroom is just down the hall."

"Whaaaaa! Maka told me she'd help me out with decorations and she never replied to that message I sent her like an hour agoooo!" Patty whines. Soul has the decency to look away when she said that, a smirk curling his lips. Maka would not have replied to anything, given that she had been teasing him to hell at the time. "She was so excited for the party, too, Black Star's like her brother! Or lover," she pouts with a roll of the eye.

The comment doesn't sit well with Soul—in fact, it quite frankly makes him sick to his stomach. If there is one way to pull him down from his high, it is to mention how much Maka Albarn did not belong to him. There's a difference between having the body and having soul and he knows this too well. The body isn't forever and the soul does not age, it's resilient like her mind, her heart, it is something deeply connected to her self. It's something he wants so desperately to give to her and something he wants so desperately to cradle against his own burning heart because he really doesn't want to be a notch in her bedpost, a footnote in her happiness.

"Hey, Patty!" Maka comes from down the hall, giving her friend a bright smile. Her hair is back in its impeccable twin pigtails but she is brilliant, jubilant as she always is. Maybe more so; she's been happier lately. "Sorry for the wait! I was in the bathroom!"

"Finally!" Patty exclaims, bringing her into a tight hug before holding her by the shoulders, bright blue eyes serious as she shouts: "I ordered a trampoline for the party."

"Great! Black Star will love it—he used to go to the gym a lot in high school and they had a trampoline there, and a rock climbing wall. He's into anything that has to do with athletics, I think you'll have a hard time removing him from that trampoline," Maka beams, hands crossed behind her back as Patty beams excitedly, jumping up and down.

"Wheeeee, yay! If Black Star didn't have anyone else who knew him as well as you did, I'd be in big trouble! Liz told me not to screw up, so I'm trying not to!" She winks, grinning as wide as she could.

Maka waves it off with pink cheeks, grinning. "No problem! He's like my brother."

"Brother?" Patty waggles her brows. "He's waaaaay too ripped to be brother-material. How about a friend with benefits since he talks about needing one of those all the time!" She giggles and Soul wants to tell her to shut up but all he does is offer a grimacing smile. Maka clears her throat awkwardly, throwing furtive glances at Soul as he shoves his hands deeply into his jeans pockets. He grips her panties in his fist. "Everyone knows how much Tsubaki wants to bang him! Everyone except him," Patty shakes her head, dismayed.

"Tsubaki really cares about him, though," Maka quickly says, swallowing the nervous lump in her throat. "I would never—no, he really is like my brother."

Patty giggles again and elbows Soul, overlooking his stiff upper lip. "Hear that Soul? Sounds like Maka would be into it if it were anyone else, ehhh?" She winks at him. Maka is a mess inside: Patty doesn't know she took her sisters advice seriously. She doesn't know that she is actually messing around with Soul, getting too deep with him, and Maka wants to keep him her secret for a while longer. "What do you say? Would you?" She winks playfully at Maka, who stares at Soul with wide-eyed panic. Before she can distract Patty with something, Soul speaks:

"We are," he stares at Patty blankly, ignoring Maka's gaping, horrified, look. He's fed up with her jokes—her lewd suggestions, feeding the doubts he has carried since day one of he and Maka's boundary-crossing decision. He doesn't want to listen to it; he wants to keep Maka for himself for as long as he can, as long as he possibly might, before she breaks it off with him when some other man catches her attention; snags her from his arms and takes her with more passion than she will ever, ever give him.

One look at Maka's face, however, has him cracking a smirk and adding, "Kidding."

And Patty just guffaws, slapping his arm as she says he's getting really a-little-too-good at telling jokes with a straight face.

"That's Black Star's fault, since Soul and him used to play pranks on everyone when we were younger," Maka laughs along with her but her eyes are a shade darker, her smile not so much happy as it is fallen, and when Patty finally stops laughing, Maka ushers her out without preamble and does not look back at Soul—she only beckons him to follow with her hand, and he does.

He will follow her anywhere if she asked him to.

That's the problem.