You like to think that you're immune to the stuff

Breath hot against her skin, she can feel him standing behind her. Oh, so close. He doesn’t touch her – he hasn’t touched her once. They have been playing this game for over a month now and it doesn’t seem like the time will come when skin will meet against skin. Instead, all they have is a series of stolen moments.

Like most illicit things it began innocently. Lingering glances one morning, a subtle run of the tongue against chapped lips the next. This seduction has been tortuous, quiet, and very much in public. Not one word is uttered between the two once they step onto the train.  Instead they assume the roles of total strangers and it would take a studied eye to realize what was going on between the two. She smirks to herself, quite aware of his form behind her – one hand above her holding on to the strap, the other hand doing double duty as it cages her in while helping him to maintain balance.

This public closeness is a variation of the usual theme. Most train rides involve the kind of flirting that would go unnoticed by even the most aware of passengers. Today however, she made the conscious decision to forgo her usual stockings – this slight change in wardrobe only helped to accentuate how short her favorite skirt rode upon her thighs. It only continued to ride up as she slowly, deliberately, spread her legs apart after setting herself down in the seat across from him. Just like that she had his attention – toned, bare legs opening under a sinfully short skirt.

Green eyes met red and the intensity of the eye contact alone left her soaking wet. Without one word they both knew that the rules had changed.

It was only after the rushed morning commute had ended that he made his move, casually standing and grabbing a handle towards the end of the train to steady himself. Two stops later she joined him in standing and felt secret shivers up run and down her spine from having him so close. Close enough to touch… to lick from head to toe.

Keeping watch on the remaining passengers, she slowly rubs her thighs together in a vain attempt to relieve some of the tension coiling inside of her. Suddenly, he shifts closer and she has to remind herself to breathe after feeling his own labored breath upon her neck. “Maka,” he drawls, lightly tracing the length of her neck with the tips of his fingers. “Do you know what you do to me?”

She tries to answer but she can barely manage to think coherently, let alone respond. Shaking her head she focuses on how words work when it suddenly hits her that he’s no longer behind her. Correction – her dumbass partner managed to get halfway off the train in the time that it took her to snap out of her lusty haze.

“C’mon Bookworm, this is our stop. Don’t tell me you forgot where we were going… so not cool.”

“MAAAAAKAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-CHOP!”

The doors have barely begun to slide shut as she storms away from the train leaving a very unconscious weapon in her wake. She reasons to herself that he should have known better and when asked about it later Soul would have to agree.