He's going the distance

She doesn't think much of it the first time he calls. She misses him, and it's so good to hear his voice, and god does she miss him. Sitting on the couch, she can almost feel his arms wrapped around her, smell the familiar scent of his deodorant.

"It isn't fair," she says.

"I know, but it's only for a couple of months," he says, and tries not to think about how they've not been apart for more than a week or two at most since they became partners.

He sighs, and on the other end of the line, she can imagine the way that the fringe of his bangs ruffle. He won't be wearing his headband because it's nearly midnight where he is, and it starts to give him a headache if he wears it for more than eight hours. She knows, but she has to know.

"What are you wearing," she blurts out before she can stop herself, and in the dim light of their apartment, flushes. Soul is quiet for a moment, and Maka is mortified. "Sh-um, I didn't-that didn't-" Her blush darkens when Soul chuckles lowly.

"Why do you wanna know, Maka?" He says her name like a benediction.

"H-have you got your headband on?"

He snorts softly. "No, weirdo. You know it gives me a headache." He can't see it, but he can hear the way she smiles. She feels strangely reassured that she had been right. "Is that all you wanted to know?" His voice is light, teasing and all that she can think about is the way he looks at her, eyes dark and piercing, at the way his mouth quirks up at the corner when he grins. "I've still got my tie on," he offers.

She can't explain why that makes her blush, but she does. Unbidden images flash through her brain-the way his dress shirt hugs his shoulders and chest, how he is perpetually loosening his tie-everyday things that she never thought of before. Now, she can't get them out of her brain.

"Why?"

He hums a little. "I just got back a little while ago. Thought I'd wait until I called you before I started to get comfortable." He says it casually, like he undresses during all of their nightly conversations. Maybe he does, she thinks, and that's a thought that rolls through her brain strangely. "What about you? Are you still in your uniform?"

"Today was a holiday," she says. "No uniform for me."

"So what, are you running around in your underwear?"

"Soul! No! Shorts and a tank top. Geez."

He laughs. "The khaki shorts?"

Maka blushes a little, but she can't quite pinpoint why. The conversation is innocent enough. "Nah, the cut offs. We had a barbeque over at Kid's."

"Swimming?"

She can almost hear his scowl. "Of course. I wore that bikini-the one with the stripes." She grins a little, still blushing into the silence.

"The black one?" There's a rough quality to Soul's voice, and Maka thinks that she just might be getting the hang of this-whatever this is.

"Yeah."

"With the strings?"

"Mhm."

"I really miss you," he groans.

"I...really miss you too, Soul."

"Are you blushing, Maka?"

"What? No!"

"You're lying. I can hear you blushing."

She is, but she'll be damned if she'll admit that to him. "That is such bullshit, Soul, there is no way you can tell that."

He chuckles again, and the sound sends thrills through her nervous system. She wonders if it's just the distance that makes her so aware of him or if it's some byproduct of the teetering dance they've been doing for last few months before he got called away on assignment.

"Of course I know when you're blushing. I always know when you're blushing." He pauses, and when he starts again, his voice has that rough quality once more. "I like making you blush. I think it's really cute."

Her face is scarlet now, she's sure of it. "Th-that's ridiculous."

"Is not. You're gorgeous, you know."

"Soooul-"

"What? It's true. I can't compliment my lady?" He stops, and blinks because he can't quite believe that the words slipped out of his mouth.

"I-I'm your 'lady'?"

"Ah-" She can almost see him rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Yeah, I mean. If you wanttobeIguess," he gets all the words out in a rush and hopes that he doesn't sound as desperately uncool as he feels right now. It's not really the way that he wanted to tell his meister that he's been hopelessly in love with her for years. Maka's silence on the other end of the line is deafening. She lets out a strange little sigh so quiet he barely picks it up.

"Soul?"

"Ah, yeah?" Fuckfuckfuckfuck, he thinks. He's blown it.

"I really would like to kiss you right now," she says bluntly, and Soul thinks that he might die.

"I would ah, really like that. Really, like a lot."

"Really?" They hadn't gotten very far into the kissing stage before Soul had left, and Maka wasn't really sure if her kisses were a thing that could be missed.

"Yes," he breathes, and suddenly Maka wishes they had had a little more time to practice that part. She almost can't believe what she's contemplating, but the word is already out before she can stop herself.

"Where?"

"Haah?"

"Where would you like me to kiss you?"

Soul can think of about ten different answers immediately, nine of which might result in a severe chop to the skull, but he's several timezones away, and he still can't believe that she just asked him that. "Is this a trick question?"

"No," she says, and her voice has a breathy quality to it. He can tell that she's equal parts nervous and excited and likes that he can read her so well.

"Everywhere," he responds immediately. She squeaks a little on the other end of the line.

"Everywhere?"

He nods, though she can't see it. "Mm, yes."

She releases a slightly shaky breath because she's heard of this game; they've flirted with it a bit, even. She fingers the strap of her tank top. "So, if...if I said that I wanted to kiss you on the mouth-"

"I'd say 'yes please'."

"And...and if I wanted to kiss your neck?"

He lets out a little growl, and Maka feels that thrill run down her spine to the tip of her toes. "I'd tell you to bite me." Soul is certain that her face is the color of a tomato by now, and he can practically see the way the flush spreads down to the back of her neck, across her chest. She makes that little squeaking noise, and Soul wonders how far they can take this. "Do you like that idea, Maka? Do you want to bite me? Do you want to run your tongue across my skin?"

"Yes," she whispers, and she's burning.

"What else do you want to do, Maka?"

She runs a hand under her tank top. Just a little, just to make the butterflies in her stomach settle down, except that her skin still feels like it's on fire, and she's aching. She slips a finger underneath the bottom edge of her bikini top. "I-are you still wearing your tie?"

"M-hm."

"I want to take that off."

"Do you want me to take it off?" There is a pause, and she weighs his words for a moment, weighs the implications, and the way her fingers are slowly rubbing at her own skin.

"No. I want to take it off. But I can't." She sighs a little, frustrated. "Please, Soul," she continues. "Take off your tie." She can hear the faint slither of his tie against his collar; she's seen him go through the motion a million times and hadn't even realized how much she had internalized that noise, or the bit of skin that peeked through the couple of undone buttons on his shirt.

"It's done," he says. "What now, Maka?" The way he says her name skates across her nerves, and she shivers a little.

"I want to kiss your chest," she replies, because suddenly that patch of tanned skin is all that she can think of. "I would unbutton your shirt, and I would-" she stops, swallows.

"What would you do, Maka? Tell me."

It's weird, she thinks, but his voice is doing that gravelly thing again, and "I want to lick your scar," she whispers.

"Haah," he exhales heavily. "All of it?"

"Every. Inch."

"Fuuck, Maka."

"Do-do you like that?"

"Like" doesn't really cover it because he has no trouble picturing his meister, her ashy hair pulled back, her green eyes mischievous and bashful at the same time. He can envision her capable hands-he's been doing it for years now, but having her voice whispering in his ear makes him ridiculously hard. "Yes," he breathes. "What now, Maka?" He says it as calmly as he can, given that he's slowly rubbing his cock through his slacks.

"Soul...Soul I want you to-I want you to touch me.."

"Tell me where, Maka."

"Everywhere," she echoes, and she can give up pretending that she's not cupping her breast, massaging the flesh softly.

He groans softly, "Are you still wearing your tank top?"

"Yes."

"Take it off," he says. She wonders if she can manage that one handed, and has decided that she's going to have to leave off groping herself when he adds, "Slowly. Inch your shirt up slowly."

"Why?" she asks, but her hands are already obeying.

"Because I want you to feel your fingers on your skin, and I want you to imagine that it's me. I want kiss your stomach; I wanna feel your skin tremble under my tongue and my hands."

So she slows her frantic scrambling, and her eyes flutter shut, and for a moment, she can feel him. She can imagine the callouses on his fingers skimming her abdomen, the wicked glint in his eye as he bends his head to taste her skin. "Soooul."

"You like that, right Maka?"

Was he stupid? "Yes," she hisses, and her tank top falls lightly onto the floor. "W-what now?"

"Good." He can see her there, lying on her bed in that fucking bikini. "Did ever tell you how much that bikini drives me crazy?" he asks after a moment.

"Uh-uh."

"Well it does. Do you know how hard it is to hide a boner in swim trunks?"

She giggles a little at that. "What if I were to take it off? It's just a thin little string-"

"I'd rather tear it off with my teeth," he growls, and she bites back a moan because really, she'd rather he tear it off too. She plucks at the string, can imagine that he takes it in his mouth, and tugs, and then there's cool air conditioning washing over her bared nipples, and she whimpers a little.

"I want you to touch-"

"Touch what, Maka, tell me," he groans, and it takes every ounce of willpower to refrain from unzipping his pants and jacking off furiously. He wants her to tell him to, wants her to talk him into coming. He settles for grinding his hand against his erection. It is a pitiful substitute.

"I want you to touch my...breasts."

"Is that all you want me to do?"

She's given up holding the phone, instead propping it between her shoulder and cheek. Her hands have better things to do. Maka closes her eyes, and lets her hands explore. "No," she says.

"Then what?"

"I want...I want you to...to bite me." She says it, and unbidden, her fingers ghosting over her nipples. He growls into the phone, and she tweaks them, gasping.

"Makaaa." He lets out a moan, and on the line, Maka echoes him.

"Soul," she says, "tell me...tell me what you're doing."

"Hah?"

"Are you...are you touching yourself?"

"What? I, ah-"

"Are you stroking your...your dick?" She's proud of how steady her voice is because she doesn't feel steady, she feels like the world is tilting off its axis, and she can't stop her filthy mouth or perverted thoughts.

"Fuck, Maka."

"It's ok if you are," she says, and she almost doesn't recognize her own voice, husky and eager.

Soul's breath comes a little faster, and his hand against his crotch isn't really cutting it. "You're a little pervert, aren't you? Why're you asking, Maka? Do you want me to jerk off?" She whimpers and god, his cock is throbbing.

"Yes."

"I'm waiting for you," he says. "Tell me what to do; tell me what you want me to do to you. "

"Unzip your pants," she says after a moment's hesitation, and before she can even finish, she hears the tell-tale sound of his zipper and his faint sigh of relief. "I want to slide off your pants," she says, and listens for the sound of hastily discarded slacks. "And-and then, I-"

"Do you want to touch me, Maka? Do you want to wrap your hand around my dick?"

"Yes," she groans. "H-how does your dick feel, Soul?"

He wraps his hand around his erection. "Haaah, it's hard, Maka, geeezus-"

"Is it because of me?"

"It's always because of you," he admits, fighting the urge to do more than slowly pump his hand. He thinks he's dying. He is going to die of blue balls and it's going to be amazing.

The noise Maka makes sends his blood pressure skyrocketing. "Soul, I need you to-god I want you to touch me, please." Her fingers pluck at the side ties of her bikini bottoms, impatient in her need.

"Mmm, tell me, Maka. Tell me how you want to me to touch you."

"Touch my-"

"Your what, Maka?"

She writhes, embarrassed and incredibly turned on; she's unbearably wet and hot, and she gives in all at once, hand slipping down. It's certainly not the first time she's masturbated, but it's the first time she's ever done something like this. "Touch my pussy," she exhales shakily, fingers sliding into her aching quim. Soul's strangled groan only encourages her. "I want you to make me scream, Soul."

"Well, that makes two of us, then. Are you touching yourself, Maka?"

She works her fingers a little faster. "Mmmmhm."

"God, Maka, I want to-" He stops because he's not sure if it's too much, because he can't stop imagining her writhing on her bed, moaning greedily for him.

"Soul?"

Oh, fuck it. May as well, he thinks. "I wanna hold you down and bury my face in your pussy. Wanna lick you till you can't see straight."

"AhaaaAhh," she cries out, and Soul swears he can hear her masturbate. "Sooul."

"And when my mouth isn't enough-"

"Ffffaaaah, Soul!" She can feel the familiar tingle in her loins, and she slows her frantic motions. She doesn't want this to be over, not yet, even if Soul's voice is driving her insane and all she can think about is him, and what he looks like naked and why are they doing this over the phone-why didn't they do this before he left. "Soul," she breathes. She wants to drive him as crazy as he's making her. "I want to make you come, Soul. I want you to think of me and how I'm going to-" She burns just thinking about it. "-I'm going to sink down on your cock, Soul."

He gives up, his hand moving faster, slick with precum and his faithful bedside lotion bottle. "Are you gonna ride me, Maka?"

She mewls. Slowing her hand is decidedly not working anymore. "Soooul-aahh-"

"FUCK, yesplease Maaah-"

Maka is losing it, she's going to climax, and she will be damned if she's going to do it alone. "Come for me, Soul," she begs, and then it's over, his quick pants in her ear, one hand squeezing a tit, the other unraveling space and time and the ceiling is melting and, "FUCK!" she gasps.

He groans and her voice is a rough command in his ear. He wants the noise of her etched into his brain, needs to hear it from lips pressed against his skin, the sound of her orgasm reverberating in his ears. "Hnng," he grunts, spine tensing, hips jerking as he spasms. "Maakaaa~"

All the air rushes out of her lungs at her name on his lips as he comes. She can't help but wonder if this is the first time her name has passed his lips as he comes. For the moment, though, there is only their harsh panting gasps and the ceiling slowly coming back into focus.

"Hah, wow," Soul breathes.

"Mm," Maka replies. Her tits are starting to get cold because she's right under the vent, and her hand is really sticky. She looks for the box of tissues that she knows is around, but can't find it. She grunts in frustration.

"You, ah...ok?"

"Soul, did you-did you take your box of tissues with you? What the hell? Who does that?"

His heart stops dead in his chest for a moment, and then he grins, slow and wide, "Maka?"

"What?"

He can hear the irritation in her voice, and it squeezes at his heart because it's so familiar, and maybe he's a little damaged. "Are you in my room?" The silence on the other end of the line tells him all he needs to know, and he laughs lowly.

"Sh-shut up, Soul!"

"Naughty meister likes to finger herself on her weapon's bed-do you do that often, Maka?" Refractory periods are for chumps, he thinks, when he's missing her like this, and when she keeps giving him ammunition. "Am I going to come home to sheets that smell like you?"

"Maybe," she admits quietly. "AlsomaybeI'vebeensleepinginhere."

"Maka," he says. His abs are sticky and gross, and the humid air from the window box ac in his shitty hotel room isn't helping matters.

"What?"

"Do-do you wanna keep doing that?"

"Haah?"

"When I get back," he says, and he'd be shocked if she couldn't hear the thundering of his heart against his ribs, reverberating through the cell phone pressed against his ear. "Do you want to keep sleeping. In my bed."

"With you in it, too?" Her voice is teasing, but he catches the nervousness underneath.

He growls a little, "Yes with me in it too."

"I think I'd like that," she murmurs, lips curling into a small smile.

"Me too." They're quiet for a moment, still basking in the afterglow. Soul groans a little. "Maka, I don't wanna go. But, uh. I gotta get cleaned up, and I've got to get up early."

"Hnngh. Ok. I miss you, Soul."

"I miss you, too."

"Talk to you tomorrow?" She can hear his smirk.

"Yeah, I think so. I'm looking forward to it."

She can't control the way her face flushes. "Ok. Goodnight."

"Night."

She hears the click of his phone hanging up, and she sighs because somehow the ache of Soul's absence is both worse and better. She hangs up her clunky portable phone a second later, and lays there. She wonders at this new development, mind running in circles. She wants to berate herself for her blatant display of horn-doggery, but it turned out all right, didn't it? Her spine is still tingling from her orgasm, and endorphins mean that she really can't get too upset at the idea that there's been a major paradigm shift in their relationship.

Besides, in the end, is it really that different? She stretches lazily, and thinks about taking a small nap. She catches sight of her bikini bottoms on the floor, and wonders if maybe she ought to get a cell phone...one with a camera on it.

AN:

Written for the amazing and wonderful Zombei/Ztheincomplete, who made an idle request for phonesex one day and got this. I don't even know anymore. NO REGRETS.