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Jul 5 12 1:50 PM

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You all can blame Lue for this~

Sanvich

She knows that it’s a lie. Well, she thinks, looking between the two Souls, not so much a lie as it is a party trick in really poor taste. She crosses her arms and taps her foot, hard sole making a satisfying clicking against the checkered floor.

One sits on the piano bench while the other rests his hand against the record player, wearing identical shit-eating grins. She wants nothing more to knock their heads together and storm out of his--their soulscape, but she can’t quite bring herself to do it. Grudgingly, she has to admit that since Soul and the Oni had become...one, it had gotten harder and harder to tell them apart when they tried this particular party trick.

“Well?” they ask in unison, still grinning. Maka sighs and rolls her eyes. They’re almost indistinguishable now that the Oni’s assimilated or whatever he and Soul want to call it.

“Very good,” she concedes. “But, I can still tell.” Despite their similar coloring and identical clothes, she still knows which is which. She expects disappointment from the two. She doesn’t expect that challenging gleam to light up their eyes as they exchange a glance. Maka feels a sudden jolt of nervous energy that pools in her abdomen. She’s not sure what to make of those glances, but she thinks that she kind of likes them.

“Are you sure?” Soul stands from the piano bench, hands shoved into pockets, lips quirked in a small smile. He makes his way to where she stands and withdraws one hand to touch her elbow softly. Startled, she glances at him, and allows her arms to be pulled away from her chest. Soul trails his hand down her arm to her hand and slides the other around to grip her waist. By the record player, Soul starts the music, red eyes hooded and amused as Maka is pulled into a dance.

She stumbles a little, and Soul chuckles lowly. She shoots him an unamused glare. “Yes,” she says, “I’m sure.” Still, her fingers dance through the fine hair at the base of his neck.

“Positive?” It’s whispered in her ear, from behind, and Maka stiffens slightly. She hadn’t heard the other Soul move. There’s another pair of warm hands on her hips, and that nervous energy sings through her veins again.

“Of course I’m positive,” she snaps. She’s surrounded, trapped by the two Souls. Behind her, Soul chuckles lowly, and presses a kiss to the nape of her neck; she shivers lightly, and then he’s scraping sharp teeth against her skin and she lets out a soft moan, eyes fluttering shut. Cool fingers brush across her cheek.

“Uh-uh, better keep those eyes open,” the Soul in front of her says. “You wouldn’t want to miss this, would you?” She opens her eyes in time to see him lean in, and then his mouth is sealed over hers, equal parts hesitant and aggressive. Behind her, Soul bites and nips along her neck and shoulders. Maka can’t think with hands curling over her hips and up her ribs, but she pulls back from Soul’s kiss.

“Is...is this ok?” she asks because never in a million billion years would she have thought an idle comment about a half-baked fantasy would lead to this--that they might willingly plan and consent to her pervy desires like this.

Yes.” It’s emphatic and in stereo, and Maka is through hesitating. She wraps her hand into one Soul’s hair and crushes her lips to his. He seems startled for a split second, but then he’s slanting his mouth and parting his lips to her advances, and the other Soul is dragging blunt nails down her back. Maka arcs her spine, pushing her hips back and rubbing against him.

The black dress had always felt comforting before. It was snug, hugged hips and her lithe curves, but modestly. Now, she just finds it cloying. She wants it gone, wants her skin free, wants bare hands pressed against her. The Souls exchange a quick glance over her shoulder, and, of one accord, they begin the process of stripping her. If ever she needed proof that the soulscape was the product of its owner, it’s the way her dress suddenly no longer has substance.

Under clever matching fingers, the blackblood dress parts along invisible seams, until she’s left in naught but her underwear. Behind her, she hears Soul exhale shakily, his breath skating across the back of her neck,

“Maaa-ka--”

“--Did you wear that just for us?” She can’t help the flush that spreads across her face. Caught. The Souls chuckle in unison. In front, Soul traces his fingers up the flat plane of her stomach, dancing over the green and black lace cups of her bra. “Someone is a dirty girl,” he smiles, dipping his head to taste her collarbone.

“Someone knows exactly what she wanted,” Soul agrees, and Maka groans at the dual sensations as he dips warm fingers underneath the matching lacy waistband of her panties. She can’t even argue, not that she particularly wants to. She does know exactly what she wants, and the thrill of having two Souls far outweighs any lingering shame. She threads one hand into Soul’s tie, untucking it from his jacket. The other she reaches back with, tangling it into Soul’s hair.

“What I want,” she manages between soft sighs and hitched breaths, “is for you two to lose the suits.”

Soul scraps sharp teeth against her ear as Soul cups her breasts. “Oh really?”

“We thought you liked the suit?”

She whimpers a little, can’t decide to move her hips forward or back, so she does both, eliciting matching moans from both sides. “I do like the suits, but I’d like them better gone.”

“Impatient,” Soul tsks, but he lets her tug his tie off. She tugs on Soul’s hair to move him, and he groans a little, nipping at her skin before reluctantly detaching.

Maka is left, staring at the two Souls, still physically indistinguishable, except for the missing tie and the exceptionally ruffled hair. For a moment, she’s struck by them, by the situation. Is she strange for wanting this? Greedy, certainly, but she knows there is only one Soul. She wonders at the damp heat between her legs at just the sight of them, rumpled and willing and just how much of a pervert she is. Is she wrong for the fire she feels in her body for them both?

“You think too much,” Soul says, his hair hopelessly tangled.

“You’re our meister,” Soul adds, popping the first button on his shirt.

“Ours,” Soul agrees, loosening his own tie. She doesn’t know where to start, but steps forward, hands reaching for suit jackets, for cloth to rip and tear. Soul chuckles, and lets her pop the button on his jacket as he slides his own tie off. Next to him, Soul shrugs out of his jacket and starts flicking open shirt buttons at an alarming rate. Maka wants to bat his hand away, wants to do it herself.

She gives up on one Soul’s shirt to tug the other’s out of his slacks. He laughs, and Soul whines playfully, “But what about me?” and Maka lets out a frustrated, muted scream.

“Just. Argh. Hold still, dammit.” Her fingers are everywhere; she is a multitasker, a straight A student. She can figure out how to get two men naked at approximately the same time. “Shoes, off,” she demands, pointing at the Soul who’s still mostly clothed. She tugs at a belt buckle, leather slick and sliding easily, pops a button, and gives his slacks a tug. Soul is left, pants slowly slipping down his legs as she tackles the other Soul.

She’s got a rhythm now, nimbly attacking buttons with gusto. She tugs at his belt, and he grunts at the force. Maka pops the button on the top of his trousers, and Soul latches onto her wrist, halting her frantic process. He shifts her hand slightly lower and presses his hips forward. “Have I told you lately how hot it is when you turn that nerd brain to perverted use?”

Maka raises an eyebrow and gives him a shy grin, squeezing his erection. “No, you haven’t. You should fix that.”

“My bad,” he groans, and she laughs lightly, tugging down pants and boxers in one fell swoop. There are hands on her hips again, and Maka is being dragged back into a hard chest.

“It seems you’re the one who’s overdressed now,” he singsongs in her ear, and then Maka’s bra is somewhere in the vicinity of the piano. She thinks it might have fallen into the strings, but she’s finding it hard to care with long fingers massaging her breasts, and Soul’s cock pressed against her ass.

“Wha--aaah--”

“Would you look at that,” Soul steps forward, hooking his fingers into her panties and slipping them down her hips. “Much better.”

“I agree.”

There is a moment where everything is still. Dimly, she can hear the soft sounds of jazz from the record player as dual kisses are planted to either side of her neck, and then Soul slides a finger along her pussy as Soul pinches her nipples, and Maka throws her head back onto Soul’s shoulder, moaning. Through half-lidded eyes, she sees his ear and can’t resist scraping her teeth across the lobe. His reaction is immediate--breath shuddering, cock twitching against her skin, and she makes a note of that. He rolls her nipples between his fingers in retaliation, growling faintly.

It’s almost enough to distract her from the sensation of Soul’s talented finger slipping along her slick lips. Her hips twitch; she wants more of him, more of that feeling. Soul darts in and captures her mouth in a searing kiss, tongue melting hot against hers as he presses another long finger against her, sinks them into her, and swallows her cries. She strains forward, but Soul pulls her back and she sobs a little against the restraint and the slow, steady pump of Soul’s fingers.

She does cry out when he slides his fingers out and gives him a petulant glare. Soul chuckles and brings his hand up, licking a digit. Maka can feel her face heat up, but it’s nothing compared to the scarlet she flushes when Soul leans in over her shoulder and darts his tongue out for a taste of the first’s fingers. She thinks that her brain might explode when he licks his lips.

She can feel her heart rabbiting in her chest, and then they’re giving her these slow wicked smiles in unison, and leading her towards the piano and bench. She lets them sit her down towards the end of the bench and doesn’t even pretend that she’s not staring at the sight of them before her--proud and equally unabashed in their nudity and arousal.

“How do you want us?” they ask, and her mouth goes dry. Maka isn’t sure when they learned that little trick--if they practiced it, or it was something that came naturally to them now, but she’s quickly learning that the rough sound of two Souls makes her throb.  She glances between them, eyes narrowed and calculating. She’d be lying if she said that she didn’t know exactly what it was that she wanted, but knowing and articulating are two different things, so Maka crooks her fingers and beckons them forward.

With a tug on one’s wrist, she croaks out, “On your knees.” It’s a little shy and hesitant, but Soul shudders a little at the order underneath and obeys, running warm palms along the outsides of her thighs. He parts her legs slowly, easing between them.

“What about me?” Soul asks with a smirk, one hand lightly gripping his dick. Maka raises an eyebrow and licks her lips quickly.

“Come here,” she demands, tracing her fingers lightly along defined abs. She scrapes a nail against his hip and presses her lips to the faint red mark. Soul shifts his hips, and catches his breath, confronted with his meister’s mischievous green eyes as she delicately takes his head into her mouth. His low moan is extremely gratifying, and she swipes her tongue along his hard flesh.

From between her legs, Soul watches the exchange avidly, fingers massaging his meister’s thighs. He presses lips to her skin, nipping lightly at soft skin that belies the steel of her muscles. He presses his nose into trim curls and inhales the heady smell of Maka’s arousal. Soul swipes his tongue along her damp folds, and is rewarded by the tremor that races up her spine. It’s like watching a trainwreck as she lets out a muffled groan around the other’s cock and he gasps, spine bowing and hand tangling hesitantly into Maka’s hair.

She responds with renewed vigor, bracing herself with one hand against his hip, the other gripping the base of his penis firmly as she swirls her tongue around his head and hums in pleasure. Watching his eyes flutter shut and the muscles in his torso begin to tremble as the tension builds is almost as satisfying as hearing his small, needy whimpers as she takes more of him into her mouth.

She squirms under Soul’s talented tongue, and he snakes his arms under her legs to grip her ass, tugging her closer to his mouth. He squeezes firm cheeks appreciatively and buries his tongue into her soaked pussy. Maka’s hips writhe, but he’s prepared for her spazzing and mostly manages to keep her from humping his face. Not that he particularly minds; he could die happy between those thighs, carefully alternating between worrying her sensitive clit and lapping at her quivering walls.

“M-mahaaa--” Soul gasps as she sucks his cock, throwing his head back. Knees beginning to ache, Soul chooses that moment to drag her clit into his mouth, and Maka releases Soul’s cock with a wet pop, her spine tingling.

She gasps his name, her hands flailing for purchase as her hips twist and heave. Despite her best efforts, Soul keeps his grip, grinning into her flesh as she comes apart, hands and elbows slamming into the piano keys in a cacophonous chorus.

With one last languid lick, Soul gently pries Maka’s legs away from his shoulders and leans back with a smirk. She feels like she’s melting, heart and soul exploded and tangling as she drifts down from her high with a soft wuff of breath.

“My bones’re gone,” she slurs, staring at them. She’s pretty sure she can still see her saliva drying on Soul’s dick as he gives her a little grin and holds out a hand to her.

“Ours aren’t,” he quips, and Maka rolls her eyes, but lets herself be pulled upward and into Soul’s arms. He slants his mouth against hers, sucking her bottom lip, and whatever retort she has dies as his hands pull her flush against his skin. She grinds against him lazily; one cool hand palms a tit, pressing the slight flesh upwards. Maka squeaks in surprise, and then he’s dipping his head and taking it in his mouth, teeth dragging over tender flesh. His tongue laps at the nipple and she can’t stop her high-pitched moan. Her hips rock against his more forcefully, and his fingers tighten on her skin.

There is a small tickling on the back of her leg, she realizes dimly, too focused on this Soul to pay it much mind. Except that the tickling is definitely a mouth, hot and wet and on the back of her knee, rising ever higher and followed by calloused fingers. There is a small, sharp shock as Soul bites the round curve of her ass, and she cries out, pressing her chest and hips forward.

“S-ssooul,” she moans, and his wicked hands burn her skin as he trails up her skin.

“Yes?” They both reply and she whimpers.

“I want--I need, please--” Teeth worry her nipple gently and pepper her shoulders and neck with nips. “Goood I need you, please--fuuuuh-”

“Yes my meister,” Soul growls, and then he’s sinking into her from behind. She cries out, lurching forward with the force of him. It feels like falling for a brief moment, but she’s pressed tightly between two familiar chests, and she revels in the sensation of being sandwiched between them.

Soul releases one breast and snakes a hand down. Rough fingers are strangely gentle as he massages her clit. The walls of her pussy clench as she shudders, and she can feel Soul’s rough breath on her neck as his cock throbs. Cool fingers slip further, dancing around where they’re joined, and behind her, Soul moans and jerks forward.

“Maka--” Soul croaks, and she cracks her eyes open to look into his. For a moment, she’s amazed by the raw need she sees there. “Please?” She can feel his hardness pressed urgently against her stomach, and she smiles, slow and sweet. Her hand on his dick makes him hiss, and his eyes widen in surprise as she slips him between her thighs. He moves his hips experimentally, as if he expects any moment for her to pull away, but she just smiles that smile and kisses him again, tangling her tongue with his.

Soul pumps behind her, rocking slowly but forcefully, and her moan is swallowed by Soul as they quickly find a push-pull rhythm that makes her see stars. She’s wet, god she’s never been this wet before, and it coats Soul’s cock as he slips between her thighs, brushing past her clit on every pass as Soul thrusts deep into her pussy, hitting just the right spot.

She’s sobbing, her nerves are a constant slow burn and she digs her nails into one Soul’s shoulder and into the other Soul’s forearm. She can feel his muscles, tense and straining to keep her hips still as they move in her, against her--Maka is surrounded by the feeling of his skin, his smell, a forearm locked around her back, around her waist, a hand perfectly fitted around one breast, massaging the flesh in time with their thrusting. She doesn’t even think her feet are on the ground anymore.

Maka squeezes her thighs together a little more and is rewarded with breaths hitching, and the choked groans of her name. She doesn’t think she can speak anymore, just pant half-syllables. Both Souls might be deaf after this, if her volume and increased pitch are any indication, but they don’t stop.

“Haaaaaaahh, Soul---fuuuck--” Lightning shoots through her skin, in her veins. It’s instantaneous and a slow burning ecstasy that has her spine arching and her muscles clenching as she comes, quivering and trembling between them.

“Maaaaka--” they hiss, and she can feel the uncontrollable shuddering of Soul’s hips as he hooks his chin over her shoulder, and Soul’s shaking as he hunches forward. Their teeth sink into her skin, muffling their cries, and all she can feel is their quaking against her as they come, jism hot within her and against her thighs and it’s everything she can do to remember how to breathe.

They stand there for a moment, holding each other up, and then bones and muscles cease to work, and Maka finds herself in the middle of a tangle of arms and legs and torsos and awkwardly placed hands. She giggles a little at that because, really, after that, how can anything be awkward? It would figure that either Soul might find a way. Someone pinches her nipple in half-hearted retaliation, and she doesn’t really care who it was, so she slaps at whatever exposed flesh she can reach. They squawk and chuckle, and the tangle straightens out a little until she’s in danger of being cuddled to death or overheating.

“Well?” Soul asks, tightening his grip on her hip. She blinks.

“Wellwha--?”

“Could you tell?” Soul adds, fingers curling around her ribs. They’re both insistent on nuzzling her neck, and it makes it exponentially harder to concentrate on forming words.

After a moment, she manages, “Of course I could. I told you. I’ll always know.” She doesn’t have to open her eyes to know that they’re wearing identical pouts, either, but she does anyway.

“How?”

She traces one hand along Soul’s collarbone. “Oni, your hands are colder than Soul’s.” He blinks and scowls a little as Soul’s mouth twists into a smirk she can feel on the back of her neck.

“Told you,” he says, and the other sighs.

“I guess that just means we’ll have to try this little experiment again.”

Maka smiles, lips curling and satisfied. “Mm. I guess we will.”

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