A/N: Requested by ilarual! Oblivious!Maka and angsty!Soul are something I like toying with in general, so this should be fun.

Soul gripped the arm of their couch as he watched Maka move through the apartment.

Somehow he was managing to ogle his meister and condemn her tempting existence at the same time; that black top was sinfully well-fitting, and the way it hung off of one shoulder made his desire to run his teeth over the exposed flesh painfully real. It was torture, his meister's body, and he was an ever-so-willing prisoner. Those shorts weren't helping either, he noted, as his gaze traveled down her legs. Those stupid, overexposed, oft-bruised but exquisite legs were the bane of his existence and the subject of many a fantasy, and death help him, he could see where her thighs ended and the curve of her ass began.

No class at Shibusen had taught Soul how to deal with romantic feelings towards his meister, much less lust. Her stupid short skirts were so damn exposing during their fights, and he had lost count of the panty-shots he had been flashed. Sure, her underwear were all basic and practical, and it wasn't as if he hadn't seen them in the laundry before, but seeing them on her and clinging to her when he wasn't supposed to was strangely attractive. It wasn't his fault that he was a healthy teenage boy, dammit! Anyone in his position would have a hard time ignoring glimpses of where leg melded into very-off-limits crotch area.

And then there were those aforementioned legs.

Attached to the lovely booty of his meister, Maka's legs were long and powerful. More than once he had seen those legs lash out at some unlucky kishin egg that crunched a bit under her steel-toed combat boots, and it was hot. Well, perhaps it wasn't the mangled monster part of that equation that he found appealing. The point stood, though; Maka's legs were powerful tools of destruction, and despite the beating that they took and dished out, Soul would have been more than content to have them wrapped around his hips. Or face. Whichever.

That stupid shirt was driving him nuts, though. Maka was no longer a child, and his own insults from years past no longer had any basis in reality. Soul suspected that a push-up bra was involved tonight in some shape or form, since the cleavage that peeked over the shirt seemed just a bit plumper than usual (trust him, he knew his meister's curves), but her breasts definitely could hold their own without it. There was something exceptionally tempting about breasts that he could palm in his hand and have them fit perfectly, and Maka's fit that criteria quite well.

And when Maka had to bend over to pick up whatever it was she had dropped in the kitchen, shirt and bra dipping down low enough to just barely expose the holy thing that is nipple, well, it was a miracle that Soul's brain short circuiting didn't make an audible noise, although the same could not be said for the strangled gasp that slipped from his slack jaw. His hands finally unclenched from the poor couch and Soul scrambled to his feet, nearly knocking over the coffee table in his rush to escape to anywhere but where his meister's nipple was on display because there was no way in hell he could retain his sanity if he caught another glimpse of that flesh, slightly puckered from the chill in the room–

Shit.

Soul's door slammed shut behind him, the wood a welcome barrier between him and the simultaneous dream and nightmare that was exposed meisterflesh. It was bad enough that lately Soul was having a hard time keeping his interactions with Maka purely platonic; kissing her was certainly out of the question, but Maka was oblivious to his self-serving motives when he nonchalantly took her hand in his and wove their fingers together. That little contact, where her tiny hands left lasting heat against his, was Soul's one guilty indulgence into his ever-so-off-limits fantasy.

His fingers knotted into his hair and Soul bit his lip to suppress a building groan of despair. He collapsed down onto the ground, leaning back against the wonderful protection that was his door. Maybe it was plausible that Soul could survive eternally being nothing more than a giant knife with feelings in Maka's eyes. Maybe he could be satisfied with protecting her and her happiness. Blood roared in his ears when the thought of Maka going off with some other dude entered his mind, and Soul tugged harder on his hair.

Maybe he could somehow grit his teeth and bear it, but no fucking way if Maka kept on being unaware of the effects her stupid booty shorts and summer tops had on him. A shiver shot down his spine as the memory of her bending over sprung to mind, her taut ass in the air and her drooping top giving him a gratuitous view of her tits. Soul's fingers twitched, a desire to go back into the kitchen so that he could reach out and grab her suddenly overcoming him.

His eyes screwed shut and he swore under his breath. The blood thundering through his veins was certainly more tainted than not, he could feel the madness in his pulse. Desire was a powerful thing. The obvious solution would be to go back to Maka, to let her soul's presence soothe the blistering heat that the black blood burned through him, but explaining what had set it off –– no, that was not an option.

The roaring in his ears was occasionally punctuated by a string of jazz, and Soul took the easy way out. Blankness of closed eyes gave way to dark curtains, and the little demon gave an exaggerated bow as he ushered Soul into the Black Room. The record player quickly became caught in a broken loop, and the oni flicked the needle upward to silence its complaining.

Soul took a seat at the piano and absently plinked a few keys, no real intent to play. Instead he reveled in the mostly-silence of his soul, broken only by the gnawing of the demon on its fingers and its occasional giggling.

Really, though, Maka's obliviousness was becoming a problem. Images of almost-exposed ass and perky nipples attached to perfectly sized breasts once again flooded Soul's mind, and here, in his own soul, he was free to give in. The oni cackled once and slipped away through the curtains, leaving Soul to drown in his taboo lust. The Black Room trembled around him as Soul imagined sliding his hand down below the hem of Maka's shirt, tracing along her spine as his fingers traced the piano's keys, and shifting a single finger into a blade to rip the fabric from her skin––

"Soul?"

His head snapped up and his eyes widened as the curtains where the oni had disappeared rustled, giving way to his meister's head as she peeked in. When her eyes settled on him, Maka sighed in relief and stepped in, and Soul watched as her top and shorts melted into an off-the-shoulder black dress. Something akin to chagrin bubbled in him when he realized that, despite it being the cause of his retreat into his soul, he would have preferred for Maka to remain in her earlier outfit. Perhaps the tendrils of madness that lurked in the shadows of the curtains were to blame for that, but Soul could not find it in himself to truly care. But there was no more time to spend thinking about Maka's clothing or imaginary lack-thereof; his meister had made her way into his soul.

Soul swallowed thickly and tried to keep his voice level. "What?" he managed, satisfied with the aloof tone. That didn't sound like he had just been fantasizing about her, right?

Heels clacking against the tiles, Maka stomped over to Soul's seat at the piano. "What are you doing?" she snapped, concern evident in her expression. "You ran out of the living room like a bat out of hell an hour ago, I've been calling your name for like fifteen of those minutes because dinner is ready, and when I come to check on you I can feel the black blood in you and your stupid door is barricaded shut!" She loomed menacingly over Soul, who was blanking at the thought of how warped time was in the Black Room. "You'd better have a good explanation, idiot! I was worried! I thought I'd find you drowning in madness or something, and you're just sitting here!"

Shit. Shitshitshit. Soul's jaw hung slack as he ran all of his options through his mind. Time had slipped past him in his private room. Apparently his five minutes of fantasy had spanned an hour, and Maka had been calling for him, and his door was... barricaded? Oh. "Uh. About my door. I think it's my body blocking it...?" he squeaked, grimacing as he looked up at Maka's expression of horror. "I kinda just leaned against it and... came here?" Every sentence was a question when Maka's rage could end him in an instant.

"Soul, just what is up with you lately?" she groaned while covering her eyes and massaging her temples. "You're acting weird, I keep catching you zoning out and looking like a zombie, and half the time you won't even look at me when we're talking! And now you go lock yourself away all of a sudden and activate your blood?" Maka bit her lip, holding back anger for the sake of concern, and Soul could think of nothing but doing the biting for her, madness still tickling the back of his mind. "We should go talk to Stein if you're having trouble with––"

"No!" The outburst surprised them both, and Soul felt his face reddening. "No, I, uh," he stumbled for words, for amends to his objections. "It's nothing. Really."

Her whisper screamed confusion and betrayal. "Liar."

God fucking damn it. He wanted to scream. He wanted to scream and tear down the curtains and push Maka against the piano, but the first two are more reason to be sent to the good doctor and the latter a one-way ticket to death by meister. Soul settled for avoiding eye contact, and he knew it was not good enough. "Look, I'm working on it."

Her eyes softened, but it is pain rather than acceptance that was reflected in jade. "It's something I did?"

It hurts it hurts it hurts to answer, but he did it anyways because he is Soul and she is Maka, and he cannot lie to her face. "It's... something wrong with me. About you." Her soul is inside of his, and he can feel the twinge of pain when she does. "It's not your fault. It's mine."

"Can you not tell me what it is?"

He wants to so badly, both for his and her sakes, but the thought of the backlash from telling her I love you, and I'm lusting after you too was just too much. He wanted to tell her of his desire to drag his teeth across her skin, to cup her breasts in his palm and tease her nipples, to pull her hips against his and feel her heat against him, and for a moment the entire room trembled with the sudden resurgence of want.

The tremors startled her, and Maka took a hesitant step closer to place her hand on his shoulder. "Soul?" She shifted so that her palm cupped his cheek and her fingers traced his jaw, and the heat of her skin on his became his undoing.

He stood abruptly and she stepped back in surprise at his jerky sudden movement. The cool air of the Black Room was a stark contrast to the heat that her hand left behind, and Soul shuddered. Somehow the old record had found itself playing again, and to its stuffy tune Soul led a confused Maka to the plush red couch settled in a corner. She sat daintily, peering up into his face with thinly veiled curiosity.

"Do you really want to know, Maka?" The words felt heavy, and his tongue flicked out to wet his lips. "There's no turning back if you do. I can't turn back time, and I can't take this back." Her expression was blank for a moment, but her lips tightened and Maka nodded.

Soul reached out for her, and he cupped her cheek much like she had done to him. Her skin was soft, and for a moment he felt her shudder beneath his touch. It felt nice, her response to him, and it mingled with the flickering madness to give him courage. From her cheek to her neck, neck to shoulders, shoulders to clavicle and then back up to her jaw, his fingers mapped Maka's flesh and he relished the goosebumps he left behind on her skin.

Her voice was timid and quiet, so strange coming from his meister. "What are you...?" In response, Soul slowly leaned down to her level and hovered over her neck, giving her ample time to move before he pressed his lips against her pulse. "Ha... ahhh...?" she gasped, and Soul could feel Maka's pulse flutter beneath her skin. When his tongue flicked out to taste her, the gasp became a quiet moan, and the vibrations felt strange against his lips. Emboldened by her seemingly positive reactions, Soul tugged the dark ribbons holding her hair up free, and he then tangled his fingers into her ashen locks, tugging gently.

Maka's panting was hot against Soul's ear as he kissed his way up her neck, and her breathing stopped altogether when his tongue pressed wetly against the shell of her ear. He waited for it to start again, and then he sucked her earlobe between his lips and worried it with his teeth, tongue darting out to flick it occasionally. "Nnngh... Soul...," she gasped, and with a pop he released the flesh from his mouth and pulled back.

Her eyes were smoky and half-lidded when Soul peered into them, and she nibbled slightly on her bottom lip. Rumbling and weighted to the point where his voice almost didn't sound like his own, Soul whispered, "Understand, Maka?" His fingers ran through the hair at the nape of her neck, relishing the cool strands' contrast with her flushed and heated skin. When Maka nodded slightly, eyes still somewhat distant, Soul pulled her face to his, and their lips connected. He could feel the air shift as Maka inhaled sharply, and when her eyes closed, he pushed her soul away and out of his own.

Returning to reality from the Black Room was always a strange experience. Soul always had compared the feeling to the "falling" sensation when nearing sleep, complete with the jarring awakening at the end. His heart pounded erratically as he attempted to steady his breathing. That was it. It was over. Maka knew now, knew how he felt, knew what he wanted, and she was going to come storming in any second now to crush his skull and kick him out. A twinge of regret pinched at Soul's heart as he realized that, if he was going to fuck everything up, he should have kissed her in the real world instead of in his mind.

He sighed and lifted himself off the ground. Maka was most definitely outside of his door; he could feel the whirlwind of emotions