![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
Fic: "The Failure Of Metaphor"
Title: The Failure Of Metaphor
Author: redbrunja
Fandom: Soul Eater
Rating: R
Characters: Maka/Soul
Author's Note: written for the anonymous kink meme.
Summary: Soul thinks in musical metaphors and monosyllables.
Soul thinks in musical metaphors and monosyllables, which means that when Maka is laying back on his bed, legs spread wide, describing how she looks is impossible.
She doesn't sound like music when he licks into her, rubs his nose against her tawny, coarse pubic hair - she actually sounds like that time when she wandered into the kitchen at 3 am and found a mouse nibbling at bread Soul had left out.
When he leans back, pulls her wide open, she doesn't look like a flower or like a 'womanhood' or any of the other terms that Soul learned when he read the totally uncool romances Maka keeps under her bed.
He glances up at her face and she's blushing the same color as the fleshy ridges surrounding her hole. He puts his head back down, sucks and slurps until all he can taste is salty-sweet.
Sex.
That's what she tastes like, sharp as his teeth on his own tongue. She sounds like sex, too, making these cute little gasping noises as his lips work at her clit, and when he raises his head, lips slick her with come, she looks like sex too, flushed and sweaty and fucking cool.
Author: redbrunja
Fandom: Soul Eater
Rating: R
Characters: Maka/Soul
Author's Note: written for the anonymous kink meme.
Summary: Soul thinks in musical metaphors and monosyllables.
Soul thinks in musical metaphors and monosyllables, which means that when Maka is laying back on his bed, legs spread wide, describing how she looks is impossible.
She doesn't sound like music when he licks into her, rubs his nose against her tawny, coarse pubic hair - she actually sounds like that time when she wandered into the kitchen at 3 am and found a mouse nibbling at bread Soul had left out.
When he leans back, pulls her wide open, she doesn't look like a flower or like a 'womanhood' or any of the other terms that Soul learned when he read the totally uncool romances Maka keeps under her bed.
He glances up at her face and she's blushing the same color as the fleshy ridges surrounding her hole. He puts his head back down, sucks and slurps until all he can taste is salty-sweet.
Sex.
That's what she tastes like, sharp as his teeth on his own tongue. She sounds like sex, too, making these cute little gasping noises as his lips work at her clit, and when he raises his head, lips slick her with come, she looks like sex too, flushed and sweaty and fucking cool.