The Gift

Over the course of eight days Soul had grown exceptionally weary of his family. The four of them together, cramped into a hotel arrangement, was far from the ideal situation. There was little about his family that he actually liked. His idealization of his parents had worn off by the time he'd been old enough to settle down memories and he knew that they did not see the world eye to eye. Money was their greatest joy, followed closely by Soul's older brother, Wes. Wes was a violin prodigy and his parents soaked up their son's fame as if they themselves played the very notes that Wes did. His mother lived an exceptionally vicarious life through him and Soul was honestly relieved that she mostly doted upon him. He'd figured out that long ago he would never live up to her standards and that suited him just fine. Wes was the heir to everything and while he was the only one in the family who cared at all about what Soul's opinion was, he still played the game better than Soul ever had. Meanwhile their father was stuck within the business world of the musical industry, carefully managing the opera houses they owned and all the players that made their financial stability possible. On his downtime, he enjoyed the finest brandy and the most luxurious parties and women. His father loved women and since his mother's greatest love and devotion went towards Wes, she paid no attention to any of her husband's sexual exploits.

Soul had just always felt like an outcast. He didn't see the world the way they did. He didn't value money, he valued nature and life. Art and music to him were ways to connect to the soul, not to fill the bank. He appreciated painting and though he was known as somewhat of a wild child, it came from boredom. Soul was endlessly bored and rebellious to the way his family lived. He played the piano for them because it was expected, but he often thought that he would be just as happy in a shack by the sea with not a penny to his name. The idea of running away crossed his mind, but it was always left forgotten because in the end he preferred the uncomfortable familiar with the unknown of the outside world. He was a coward and it only ever fanned the flames of his anger.

At that particular moment his anger was growing due to the fact that he was stuck in a small carriage with his father as they made their way home from another extravagant musical affair. Mr. Evans was rambling off about the finances and the bookkeeping, but Soul had blocked him out hours ago. He just wanted to climb into a hot bath and soothe his own wounded pride from a week of being backhandedly reminded of his failures.

Then there was Maka, waiting at home for him. She had been the light of his thoughts and he had savored every second he had to drink in the memories of her. Never before had any girl so inspired him and the only thing that she seemed to have to do to inspire him was exist. He told himself it was ridiculous, he barely even knew the girl. All the same, she'd made an otherwise miserable trip feel lighter.

"How's the girl doing?" His father interrupted his thoughts as if he had been reading them.

Soul gave only a shocked: "Huh?"

His father rolled his eyes as he brought a hand up to his cheek to scratch at his finely trimmed beard. "Is she really that forgettable? I know she doesn't have the body of some of the women that have caught your eye, but that innocence of hers is quite enchanting."

"She's fine." Again Soul felt the fan of his temper's flames. He would have preferred that his father never bring up Maka. The tone his father used left him feeling like he was listening to an off tune piano.

"So son, how is she?"

"I said, she's fine."

His father chuckled. "No, I mean...how is she?"

The color rose on Soul's cheeks. He didn't want to talk about Maka like that, didn't want to discuss any of his female partners with his father. He was often the odd one out among his friends because he chose to leave his bedroom exploits out of the conversation. It was an odd feeling to know that he had a girl who was there for anything that he could ever want. He could stop her at any point, no matter what she was doing and take her. His father would have certainly been taking full advantage. "Haven't slept with her yet." He had known that it would annoy his father, but the way the color drained felt more than a little satisfying.

"What do you mean you haven't slept with her yet?"

"It's only been three weeks? So I haven't slept with her yet."

His father looked at a loss for words, too blind sided by the idea that his son would not have jumped at the opportunity to have a girl at his every beck and call. "You do know how much I am paying for her, don't you? She's a working girl, she knows what's expected of her."

"Oh I'm sorry, was I supposed to take her for laps every day?" Soul scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest and stared down his father. "If she's mine, I'll do with her as I see fit."

The older man stared back at his son, eyes narrowed and obviously irritated by the display of defiance from his younger son. Mr. Evans, never had liked to be challenged and Soul had a tendency to know exactly what buttons to push. "Well, see fit that you take advantage of her every asset, or I'll see fit to send her back where she came from, because I am not paying for some poor street brat to sit around my home and read books all day long."

Soul wanted to argue, to point out the fact that she was still a woman and deserved some damn respect, but the moment he went to open his mouth his father interrupted.

"And believe me, I will send her back, and you do not want me to feel such a gift has been wasted." There was no more room to continue the conversation and Soul sunk low into the seat, fingers white knuckled against the velvet. There was a definite threat in his father's tone and it made him uncomfortable, more for Maka's sake than his own. An uncomfortable silence filled the air of the carriage between them, something Soul was well used to. Instead of even bothering to argue, he stared out the carriage window and thought of the girl back home with her sweet smile and unbroken innocence.

Maka was in absolute awe and Soul held a smug smile on his face as he watched her green eyes widen. It was evening when he'd finally pulled himself together to see her. Coming into her room, without so much as a knock, he had taken her hand within his and led her back to his own. There had been a stiffness about him that she hadn't been able to place, but it had caused her heart to quicken within her chest. For a few moments she tried to mentally prepare herself, positive that this moment was going to be the moment. It was clear that it hadn't been when he'd directed her attention to a box of considerable size wrapped with what could only be the most expensive paper she had laid her eyes upon. Topping the blue and silver paper was a delicate bow that finished the package in such expert precision that it seemed a shame to disturb it's wrapping at all.

Her eyes had returned to his, asking silently for permission. Permission was given with a nod of his head and a mere shrug from his shoulders. Some of the tension seemed to ease as she heard the chuckle escape him while she meticulously attempted to keep the paper in some resemblance of order. "It's not alive, you can't hurt it." Soul remarked, nearly breaking her concentration.

"I know that!" There was so few lovely things in her life that irritation caused her face to flush. This boy, who had everything, who took paper for granted made her want to drag the box off to quiet corner where she could treasure it's beauty on her own. She reminded the disobedient voice inside of her that she had no place to scold him and swallowed down her pride as she untucked the final edge of the package. Irritation was immediately forgotten as she removed the lid and stared upon it's contents.

Maka had been given several dresses upon her arrangement with the Evans Family. None of them compared to the exquisite garment that lay before her amidst the dressing of the box. She immediately understood the choice of paper because it mirrored the color of the fabric. No, she decided the heavy satin fabric mirrored instead the deep blue sky of evening when twilight is on the horizon; When it moved it even shimmered. Overlaying the satin was a filmy, transparent layer of white silk that was gathered in symmetrical dots of silver threading that seemed to represent the stars of the imagined twilight evening.

In response to her shock, Soul reached out and took one of her trembling fingers. His thumb caressed the top of her hand and he pulled her gently to the side. It wasn't hard to see that he'd chosen the perfect gown in her mind, though he expected she'd gasp over the far less extravagant option that he had considered.

"Soul, I don't know what to say..."

"There isn't a need to say anything, there is a ball coming up soon and I want you well presented." It was a lie, but one he could pass off well. In fact, he'd chosen it purely because he had desired the sparkle in her eyes and the smile that she offered him. An ache ran through him at that smile and he cleared his throat before gruffly asking her to turn around.

Maka obeyed and turned away from him. Facing towards the mirror she saw how her own dress paled in comparison to the one in the finely wrapped box. It wasn't that she was not well dressed, but pink muslim was hardly a contender for the fine silks she had just been touching. "Close your eyes."

"Why?" She inquired with a turn of her head to see him.

"Has anyone ever told you that you are far too curious for your own good. Just do as I say." His tone had a rough edge to it, and she wondered again what was making him feel so tense. She could only guess that he was a man of few words that only breached the surface of a wide range of thoughts he hid within himself. It made her all the more curious, and nervous, about the man standing behind her. Once again she obeyed, letting her eyes close. It was only a moment later she felt the buttons on the back of her dress being undone, one by one. Again, she was caught by the notion that this was going to be the moment when he took her as his own. Her gown pooled at her feet and he smoothed his hand down her leg to lift, first one foot and then the other, out of the dress. He rose and steadied her blindness with a hand on her shoulders. There was a moment of silence where she felt nothing and in the quiet she wondered what it was that he was doing, or looking at. The rustling of fabric broke the quiet.

"Lift your arms." Another bossy order, but Maka could just pick up the hint of nerves in his voice. She wondered what it was that could make him nervous. In her mind he had been fancied a stoic individual who held an entire room with an air of authority, yet with her he had proven himself gentle and even caring. The tension of the situation was broken as he fumbled with getting the dress on. Having expected that he was going to move on to the laces of her corset, helping her into a dress was the opposite direction of her thoughts. His hands smoothed the gown over the meager curves of her body. She knew that he felt the shiver that ran through her at his touch and she could perfectly picture that cocky smirk that accompanied his chuckle.

"Can I open them yet?" She stammered out, embarrassed at the obvious nature of her body's response to his touch.

"Go ahead." Finally allowed to observe herself in the mirror she found she barely recognized the girl who stared back. Eyes wide with awe, she forced her mouth closed in hopes of not looking entirely foolish. Combined with the elegance of the dress she was a sight for any man's eyes, most especially the red ones that caught hers in the reflection. While folded, the dress had hidden it's true power. In a single moment she had gained a new appreciation for the body that was hers. The bodice of the gown held her breasts so tightly that it caused the very upper curves of cleavage to spill slightly over the edge. As she took deep breaths they swelled just enough to be considered sensual without tipping the scale of appropriateness. The sleeves that puffed out hid the boniness of her shoulders and made her arms instead look slim and elegant. A thick band of ribbon encompassed a high waist and gave her petite figure shape while the rest of the dress flowed freely down to her feet.

Soul drank in the sight of her, let her very presence fill the insecure places that his father had so impatiently torn apart earlier. He stepped up behind her and let his hands rest on her shoulders before smoothing them down the skin of her arms and gripping her wrists between his hands. The last thing he wanted was to jeopardize the beautiful creature in front of him. The very vision of sexual attraction was gazing back at them from the mirror contradicting the feeling of the girl in his arms. While her reflection showed a sensual force of nature she was still unmolded and untrained. Whatever lessons she had been through at the academy, and he was loathe to ask, had done little to tarnish the trembling girl beneath his hands. He was overwhelmed by his desire for her and he took one hand away from her wrist to lay on her belly to pull her back against him. He rested his lips against the back of her head, smelling the floral scent of expensive soaps and something that was uniquely hers, something that spoke of the moors and the wind. "Beautiful."

His hand seemed to be on a mission of his own and as he pushed his hips against the curve of her back, he trailed his fingers over the front of the dress feeling the catch of her breath as her cleavage pushed against the restraining fabric. When his hand continued to move upwards he found the racing pulse just below the surface of her neck and he bent his head to first press his lips to it and ten drag his teeth over it inciting a sharp intake of breath that was let out in a low moan.

To her credit somehow Maka Albarn stood still under his hold. She watched his careful administrations from the image reflected in front of her. In the dark light of the room, their reflection seemed to glow under firelight. At some point the house had grown quiet and she had lost track of the servant's footsteps. They were completely alone, and though typically bedtime was quickly approaching she didn't want anything to do with sleep, she wanted to watch what Soul Evans was going to do next. No, not watch; feel, but she was hypnotized by the image in front of her. It seemed as if the man was starting to make love to some other girl as the responses that her image gave seemed so unlike her. She used the mirror to test her responses, if the girl in there looked good than certainly she was proceeding correctly.

He pulled her more tightly against him and the hardness of him pushed against her lower back. A groan that was not her own met her ears and immediately after she felt him pull away from her. Turning from the mirror she looked at him. He was rubbing at his forehead, lost in some thought process that she was not privvy too.

"You uh...it's late...should..."

"What?" She hadn't expected herself to sound so shocked.

"Don't you think it's bedtime? Aren't you tired?" A quick shake of her head was his response. He made his way over towards the door and placing his hand on the handle started to turn it. "Look, we'll talk tomorrow."

"Like hell we will!" That had come out harsher than she had meant to, but the sudden disruption to the slow build of pleasure was enough to set her skin on fire, and not in a good way.

"Excuse me?" He raised his eyebrow, dropping his hand. "What was that?"

"Just what are you playing at?" In truth, he was still discouraged and concerned about her, about what he was supposed to do with a girl who was supposed to a toy for his own personal sexual enjoyment. His thoughts were still raging against his father's indecency and he was torn between wanting to make love to the girl and defy his family.

"You told me when I got back that you'd make love to me."

"And I will!"

"When?" More questions.

"Stupid girl, when I feel like it." Now she was picking at his irritations.

In a huff she crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm not stupid, and you pretty much felt like it just now."

An embarrassed flush was unmistakable even in the candelight. "What do you know about such things?"

Dryly she rolled her eyes. "I have an education in it. One you promised to expand on." She felt the heaviness of confusion at how easily he seemed to be able to break away from the feelings that were awakening in her body.

He sounded frustrated and exhausted as he glared at her. "Did it ever occur to you that I have been traveling since the early hours of the morning? Did you even stop to think that maybe I want to be better awake for this?" She looked unsettled at his response and gave a slow shake of her head. It wasn't the truth but it was a good response because it seemed to make her feel guilty.

"No. I didn't. But, Soul...I mean...Lord Evans...one second you want me, the next second you act as though you want nothing to do with me. I'm not just some toy you can play with." The very sentence made him laugh cruelly and run his fingers through his hair. Soul was exasperated by her. The words of his father echoed in his head and he was terrified for her, for how easily someone could break her in the dangerous world that she had opened herself up to. The dress she wore might make her look like an intoxicating and put together woman, but she was anything but.

"Don't you get it? That's exactly what you are? My father paid a handsome sum of money to bring you to me, so that I could cease my behavior with respectable young women." He spat out the word as if it had tasted sour in his mouth. The pain in her eyes at the response was evident.

When she spoke it was a mutter. "I do know that..." He was on her then, closing in. His expression was unreadable to her but she could sense a desperation that did not involve desire.

"And you want to learn, you really want this?" His words were angry and she wasn't sure how the energy had changed so quickly between them. She simply swallowed as he took his hand off the door and approached her. He wasn't so much taller than her, but she felt small in his presence. His hand went to grip the fabric at the appex of her thighs, grinding his palm into the sensitive area kept hidden only by the thin material of silk.

"I could show you...but if we open that door there isn't a way back. If we do this, I make you the whore that you've been paid to be." His hand suddenly gripped her chin and roughly tilted it up to look into his eyes. "Do you understand that?" Her entire body was trembling and she couldn't help but see something that mirrored madness in his eyes. So many emotions seemed to seep from him and she wasn't sure where to find the truth among them.

She gritted her teeth. "I know that...I don't have any other choice." She hated the mixture of emotion that he could drag out of her and a solitary tear betrayed her weakness. Far away there was a broken man who had once been her caretaker. A father who she both hated and loved, but who she couldn't give up. It was that thought that had given her courage to throw away her integrity and join the cursed class of working girls. She felt the pressure against her groin lighten and his hand moved instead to the small of her back. He leaned his forehead against hers.

"I'll give you money, enough to get you by until you can find real work. I'll put in a word with a family and you can be a maid." It was a poor suggestion and he knew it, but it would keep her safe.

"Too late. My mentor and educator won't be appreciative of you ruining me for potential future clients. I doubt you'd have enough money to buy him off." He saw green as he listened to her words, the thought of someone else having her was an undesirable an outcome. If he sent her away it would be to someone else. He couldn't protect her if she was in another man's bed. She was so small in his arms and so vulnerable and the need to protect her coursed through his veins. He pushed away the curious nature of those emotions, because he simply had not be trained to deal with such feelings. Everything in his world was carefully calculated and structured. His childhood, his education, his music, his eventual marriage, his lovely little carefully selected escort. He let out a slow sigh, they were right. Maka was right. His father was right. Hell, the voice in the back of his head that was telling him the only way to keep her safe was to take advantage of the very thing she was being paid for, was right.

He took a step away from her then, dropping his hands from her body. He went over to the bed and sat down on the chaise that rested just below the mattress. "Okay, Maka. I won't delay this any further."

"If you don't want me..." She was trying to be careful with her words, but they seemed to be making some headway. "...I would find something else."

She was almost relieved as the cocky edge to his voice returned. "As you said yourself, you are an educated woman. You know when a man wants you. That school of yours may have taught you a thing or two about men and women, but it's clearly my responsibility to continue your education."

"And how are you going to do that?"

"We start by taking off all your clothes." He motioned her over to him, holding out his hands for hers and when she was close enough he took them, winding their fingers together and gently encouraging her to kneel. Quick work was made of her gown and soon she was kneeling in a puddle of silk satin. Standing them both up he turned her around and took care to peel each layer of clothing from her body. There was certain formality and precision to his actions and his experience was evident as he took her out of each piece until finally he had tugged the last strand of thread from her corset and thrown it to the side. Only when it was completely gone did he gaze upon her briefly.

Never having been viewed naked by another man, she was grateful that they were only bathed in candlelight. It was an illusion of modesty because he could see all of her, down to the pinkish blush that ran along her skin. "Go lay down." His voice was kinder now, but still held it's air of authority. Doing as told, she supposed nobility was merely raised with that training. If a person could actually be trained in the belief that they were better than others, she mused to herself. His bed was the most luxurious thing she had ever lazed upon. So fluffy was the mattress that she felt her bunk sink slightly into it. Little attention was paid to it though as she watched the man in front of her undress.

Soul took great care with his own undressing, down to cufflinks on his arms and the loosening of the cravat that stood stiffly against his throat. Each article of clothing was dropped to gather with hers on the floor, until he was left wearing only his trousers. They did little to hide the bulge that pressed against the leather ties, but he seemed to ignore it's presence. Instead of moving immediately to her, he picked up the dress he had bought her and laid it out over the back of a chair. He smiled as he told her that it was a pretty penny he did not want wrinkling.

The weight of the mattress shifted as he joined her in bed. The reality of the situation hit both of them as they lay nearly naked together.

Maka had been told about obedience about how to lay next to a man, how he might touch her, and how he might take her; but as he leaned in just slightly over her and just barely brushing his lips against hers he spoke softly, "Whatever is running through that head of yours, let it go. I won't do anything to hurt you. At least not on purpose."

Her response was a deep breath that as she let it go made her lips tremble. He kissed her just as her tongue darted out to wet her lips, instead taking over the job himself. The kiss itself was different than any that he had given her before. It spoke of expectation and excitement. It filled her with an ache that traveled down through her belly and out through the legs. The foreplay that he had been frustrating her with had already moistened the curls at the junction of her thighs and he broke the kiss to look up and down her body.

"If it means anything, my father has good taste, you are gorgeous." Leaning down again, he couldn't stop himself from adding. "And you are mine."

"Indeed. I am that...my Lord." She teased him with the title.

"Call me Soul, when we are in bed together. I want you to call me by my name." He wanted to at least pretend there was no wall between their equality. "Do what you must outside of these doors Maka, but in here you aren't allowed to use my title." For some reason that order made her feel a fresh wave of desire for him, and he saw the way it affected her as she squeezed her thighs together.

His fingers rested against her knee at first as he took to kissing her again, but his fingers dipped between the middle of them and slowly slid upward, parting her thighs as he went. Moving with his mouth down towards her neck and further south towards her breasts, he was only satisfied when he found a pert little nipple to suckle between his lips, worrying it carefully between his lips. As his fingers found the area of thigh was that was glistening with her arousal, her back arched and he took more of her breast between his lips. They were small and easily covered with slow strokes of his tongue over them. A groan escaped his own throat and she could feel the vibrations from his throat against the sensitive tip as he worked it between his lips.

The careful administrations of his body were causing him greater discomfort and she felt almost a sense of pride as he had to stop and untie the laces of his trousers and free himself from the confines. She took the opportunity to sit up and work them down over her thighs, revealing his own complete nakedness. It was his turn to blush and she wondered for a moment just how intense his lovemaking session with gentlewomen were. The trousers were discarded at the foot of the bed, pushed aside with a kick and immediately forgotten in lieu of the activity at hand.

Maka sat up, this time placing her own hands on his chest. "Am I allowed to touch you?"

"Yes?" He was baffled by the question.

"Well, you haven't allowed it thus far."

His lips pressed to the tip of her nose. "I've been more focused on you, but here give me your hand." For once it wasn't so much an order as it was an offer, one she took. Hard was the word that all the girls used for the men they had slept with. They hadn't been wrong, per-say, but it wasn't as she had envisioned it. Instead of a rock hard stretch of manhood, she found him to be more firm, with skin that stretched gently over his length. The skin over him moved along the firmness laying under the flesh and she found that she liked the way it rolled and even more the way he groaned when it did. There was a bead of wetness that escaped the very tip, not unlike the slipperiness that had built between her own legs. It made stroking him easier and she could only guess from her lessons that it was a preliminary to the fluid he would eventually release within her body...or hand as the case might be. For so long she had been terrified of what one might look or feel like, but it was hardly the terror some of the new girls imagined in their heads. Maka even found herself quite eager in her touching, wanting to see what he would look like within his own release. It was suddenly unfair that he had only seen hers. She worked him to the point where she suddenly felt his hand roughly grip her wrist to stop her.

She released him, curious as to the hold up. "What?"

"Don't make me come." His eyes were half closed and he took deep breaths in a clear attempt to try and get himself under control.

In her confusion she nodded. "Why not?"

"If you want me to get inside of you, I'll need it. Can't do it soft. Don't want to wait for it to get hard again." The message registered enough, and the thought was taken off her mind anyway as she felt him focus on her own sex. He pushed her thighs farther apart with one hand, encouraging her to lay down again onto the plethora of pillows. She relaxed and allowed her body to anticipate the touch of his hand, after all she had been dreaming about it since he had left her still wanting before his trip to London. A forefinger slid easily into her and it was followed closely by a second and stretched farther by a third. It didn't hurt, but she knew he was doing his best to prepare her for himself. Soul stroked her with a quickly building passion that made her entire body hot and sweaty to the feelings coursing through her. Her hand found her own breast and she pinched at the nipples feeling a tremor move down to the belly and excite the tiny, swollen bundle of nerves. Taking her hand he pulled it down to touch herself, just as he had in the bath the night she had arrived. She practiced with her touches, allowing herself to see what pressure made her feel the best. Time seemed to have lost it's meaning in her mind because she wasn't sure if the touching had gone on for minutes or an hour. Eventually there was a familiar building of pressure and pleasure that had her hoping for the same powerful release he had made her feel before. This time though, he did not allow her.

"No..." Her voice was so desperate that he couldn't help him himself from laughing.

"Shhhh...darling, it's okay." His voice was tender beyond words as Soul found himself filled with such longing for the sweaty, aching mess of a woman beneath him. "I'm just going to give you more." There was the very traditional way of taking a girl's virginity, that being her laying like a board beneath him as he lifted her hips to plunge into her. Maybe that would be the best option for any of the gentlewomen that he had taken before, but he had heard rumors of allowing a woman to take sex at her own pace, that it eased the pain of virginity. While he meant her no disrespect, he had no care for the traditional virginal position, and instead he made his way to the top of the bed, resting his back against the pillows. She looked confused, but he motioned her to come to him. "I want you to be on top."

She looked at him as if he had two heads and for a moment shrunk into herself. "I don't know how to do this..." Her head hung down and it took him lifting it back up to get her to look at him.

"I'll guide you, but you do what feels right to you." After all it was all good to him. As long as he was soon buried in her, he didn't care how it happened. With a little coaxing on his part, she soon sat astride his lap. She might have been on top but he was in still in control and she was grateful for the care he took in guiding her to the exact right position. He held himself firmly with one hand, helping guide her hips with the other. When he was pressed to the heat of her opening he let go of himself and brushed aside the sweaty strands of hair that stuck to her face. "Whenever you are ready."

Maka bit her lip, overwhelmed by the care he was offering to her, emotional by the entire moment itself. She clutched to his shoulders as she reached between them and helped guide him slowly inside of her. There was a pinch of pain and she stilled her movements.

"It'll hurt a little, but take it as you can." He whispered words of encouragement to her as she leaned her head forward against his shoulder. Trembling from nerves and unresolved pleasure she finally collected every ounce of courage that she had and pushed her body down to envelop the rest of him. The pain that she had been warned about was not as blinding as she had feared. In fact, as her body adjusted to it, she felt only very full of him and the pain was simply that of being stretched farther than she had gone before. Though she could tell that it was torture for him to be patient and not move, he continued to give her the time to adjust.

"You okay?" He finally inquired of her, his voice strained by holding himself back.

A small nod was followed by a quick approval. "Yeah. Feels...good."

He didn't want to pressure her, but the stillness was starting to hurt him, so he let out a long breath of air and looked up at her. "You can move you know."

"I don't know how."

His hand came to stroke her cheek. "What do they teach you at that school?" It was a jest, but a gentle one and he placed his hands on her hips, slowly starting to rock her on top of him. He encouraged the movement of her thighs and as the pleasure started to replace her thought process she began to let go of worry and to do as told, which was just simply to feel. It wasn't hard for either of them to build a rhythm that matched the others movements and they rocked together amidst the pillows. Soul wouldn't have doubted that the image of her riding him was the most erotic thing he had ever witnessed in a woman; and Maka found that riding him allowed her to press her hips so perfectly into his that the most sensitive area of her sex was stroked against his skin. A fire built into each of them as they clung to each other in the dim light of the room feeling for just what the other liked. His experience allowed him to give her the time that she needed to build towards her climax and the more she fell into the tempo the more sensual she looked. Maka let go of him and arched her back, thrusting her hips forward with all the abandon of a woman in desperate need of release. Soul couldn't stop staring at her as he watched the innocent girl turn herself into the woman of pleasure that she was meant to be. He didn't have to do a thing other than feel her ride herself into ecstasy as she took total control over the situation. He'd always guessed she would be a control freak if he gave her half a chance.

Soon the pleasure was too much for either of them and she stopped her movement, her mouth open, her head thrown back and her body frozen except for the muscles that fluttered deep within her and dragged him over the edge into his own release. It was a flood of powerful feeling and when she finally collapsed on top of him she had no regrets about the choice to stay with Soul when he had offered her a way out. Nothing had ever felt so incredible to her, and the warmth of his body and the comfort of the bed beneath them far outweighed the life she might have as a maid.

He stroked his hands up and down her back, feeling the heat of sweat slowly cool with chill of an autumn night. Shifting them, he had no choice but to pull her off of him. He reached for the basin of water beside the bed and dipped a cloth into it. She trembled as her legs were parted, her body too sensitive for more, but he merely wiped away the small flecks of drying blood. Soul supposed for a moment that this meant there arrangement was official. He'd accepted her as his own and a heavy weight of responsibility filled him as he pressed his lips tenderly to her lips.

Finally satiated and relaxed from the foreplay they had been dancing around, she smiled and nestled herself against him.

"Want me to leave?" She'd been told that he might, and she couldn't have hidden the hint of fear in her tone.

"No. I want you here." He smiled and pressed his lips to her forehead, speaking against the crown of sweaty hair. "I might want you in the morning." Despite her exhaustion, it elicited the now familiar fluttering in her lower belly.

"I think I'll be alright with that."

"Good. Now that I have you, I may as well give you the attention you deserve." It was a tease, but something within him felt uneasy. She didn't even seem to notice because her breathing had evened out and sleep had stolen her from him. He held her close, stroking her arm unable to fully rid himself of the tension he felt. Glancing over at the door, he realized that there was a glimmer of light in the hallway. He unwound himself from the girl and yanked a blanket to cover himself.

His father's presence sickened him when he cracked open the door, and his tone spoke of the vile tension that had built inside of him.

"Your gift has been accepted. You can leave now."

"Goodnight my boy." Soul wanted to punch the delight off his face, but he stood frozen, watching him walk down the hallway until the sound of his footsteps were gone and the hall was once again black.

When he returned to bed, it was only the even breathing and the patterned notes of Maka's heart that could temper the fury within his own. She had no idea what a dangerously thin line she was walking along, in a treacherous underground world. He made a foolish promise to keep her safe, instinctively knowing just how difficult it was going to be to keep.