Summoner's Just Wanna have fun

Seymour wandered his own palace idly, trying to get his mind off the anxiety of what he’d just done: he’d asked a summoner—quite a sexy one—to marry him.
Plan or no plan, suicide or not, Sin be damned, it was an extremely brave and strange thing to do. He was feeling worse about having asked than while he contemplated if he should.
If anyone were going to survive such an unusual act, it wouldn’t be him. No, not the half-Guado, not the strange looking ‘…thing’ or man—it used to be ‘boy’—who neither race wanted to claim as theirs. No. Not him. Never.
People thought he was hard enough to keep under control from doing stupid things and bringing attention to himself when he was a Maester, and his subjects were glad that occupation kept his doings out of their hair. And then… well, he was an idiot.
He shook his head, looking for something to occupy his mind other than dwelling on how socially doomed he was.
He had been pacing for hours; he had been wandering from room to room for hours, from thing to thing. It was hours more when Yuna returned, and one more hour when she found him.
She opened the door and closed it delicately, then was about to address him, but he spoke first.
“You have come to a decision already, or do you wish lodging here?” he asked, turning to her, grateful for relief from boredom, but at the same time afraid—nonetheless stoic in expression. “I’d be happy to oblige; think nothing of it.”
“No, no, it’s—its fine. I—“ she stuttered.
“I would understand if the decision you came to already was to decline.”
“No—it’s not that—I—there was—“
“Please, I told you, no formalities, no matter what relation between us you wish there to be,” he said, coming closer and putting his hands on her shoulders, hoping she’d take it as a gesture of comfort as well as that she not refuse it.
“Lulu’s just behind the door,” Yuna spoke up, louder and strangely more confidant. It was almost defiant in the way she said it.
“I… don’t understand,” Seymour said, dropping his arms.
“I was visiting the farplane,” Yuna said. “And I saw your father try to leave it. I sent him back, but he dropped a sphere.”
Seymour backed away, his expression going from smug to a blankness with an underlying hint of horror.
Now that she knew he was afraid, Yuna suddenly felt more confident. Never before had someone been afraid of her. Never before had she been the one who could give the orders—did give the orders—and she liked it.
He would always be afraid of her. Her group was too many for him to try anything without causing such commotion that there were witnesses anyway. He couldn’t hurt her. He couldn’t hurt any of them. He was trapped. And she had trapped him.
She couldn’t help smiling. “I know what you did.”
“Yes, that part was obvious,” Seymour said. There wasn’t a hint of smugness or confidence in his voice. He turned his face from her. He could strangle her right now and he could order the guards to kill her friends, but he wouldn’t. Not now. He had had several chances to, but no. He valued status, and acceptance. Even if he lied and said she tried to kill him, he would lose face.
“So… what do you want?” he asked, still not looking at her.
“I’m here to make you an offer,” Yuna said. “Lulu’ll notice if something is wrong, and she’s very keen about it.” She said it to make herself more confident, to make her feel more in charge, both to her and Seymour. She doubted he’d do anything now, but if she accidentally backed him into a corner… “I won’t tell, and you join me as a guardian.”
Seymour glanced at her for a moment before feeling confident enough to turn his face to her. “That’s all?” he asked. He didn’t mention to marriage. Of course she wouldn’t mention it. Not when she could throw this in his face. And he shouldn’t either, lest she think he was being insolent.
“No, it’s not,” she said, approaching him.
Seymour wasn’t sure if he should be afraid or confused. He went with confused. He’d be able to keep some semblance of dignity that way.
“I’m a summoner. We lead such short lives,” she said, this time putting her hands on his shoulders. She pulled him down and whispered in his ear—pointed, but not like his subjects. It had started to shape itself that way since he hit puberty, and he didn’t like it. That was the reason he kept his hair over it at all times. “I want some fun,” she whispered in a sultry voice. She smiled as he shivered, understanding her perfectly.
She wanted this. No, she really wanted this. She was finding such exciting people on this adventure. First Tidus, now Seymour—who she had wrapped around her finger.
She felt her nipples harden and she pressed closer to him. She could feel his heart racing and she looked at his strangely, yet naturally, decorated face. There was a bright red band across his face, from cheek to cheek.
“But…” she said. “I want a virgin.”
“…I…” he stammered. She had really caught him off guard now. He had no more smart phrases to say; in fact he couldn’t manage a sentence. That was a good sign.
She stepped back and pulled him forward, then shoved him. She had to make him off-balance first, but she—tiny as she was compared to him—managed to shove him to the floor with minimal harm. She really didn’t want him distracted by bleeding all over the floor. Besides, she needed that blood.
“I need to know for myself,” she said. God it was exhilarating. She, the one who was here to make other happy, others who didn’t know her, who hated her. She, everyone’s ‘little girl,’ the one who followed orders and rules and propriety and modesty… She could be someone else now. She could be herself. She could do anything.
Yuna grinned as she stared down at Seymour, putting a booted foot on his chest to keep him from getting up. She undid the clasp over her obi and tossed it on a couch. She took her obi off next, and her kimono flopped open.
He looked like he’d had too much to drink too fast. He looked frightened and tempted. He looked like a young little boy who had never even heard of sex before.
And she loved it. She groaned in the back of her throat, watching him as her nipples literally ached to be released from their cloth confines. She undid her black undergarment first, so when she tore her kimono open, it fell off and he tossed it and her kimono to the floor.
She bent down, straddling him, her hands running over his chest to tease him, searching for the most sensitive spots.
“But—“ he said, and she pressed her whole hand over his mouth.
“Of course there’s a way to tell,” she said, pressing two fingers into his mouth. He was so warm… and her bare chest was so cold… so demanding…. “Your first time lasts practically five seconds. I want to see how long you last.”
She pulled her fingers out and trailed them along his stomach. She saw him flinch and he gave a short, crude moan. He hadn’t done this before, she could tell that already. But why waste a chance to have fun?
She sat up, still on top of his hips. “I’m not going to do all the work, Seymour. Take off your belt.”
He sat up slightly, as much as he could. He balanced on one hand, while the other went for his large belt. His eyes were on Yuna’s chest, traveling downward as her hands went to her skirt as she unclipped and unzipped it.
She pulled the purple fabric down slowly, teasing, tantalizing, exciting him. She could feel his excitement under her and she realized her panties were already wet. She stripped for his entertainment, but he—he fumbled with the knot and struggled not the explode all over his pants. He undressed they way one always undressed before sleep. There was nothing exciting in the way the knot was undone, the way he pushed the fabric away.
It wasn’t because he was greedy, rushing to a goal he so obviously wanted to achieve, was putting effort into not ruining. He had never done this. His long fingers purposely kept from touching—from going anywhere near—his crotch.
At a time like this, he was trying to be discreet. Well, she’d stop that.
He pushed the fabric away and stopped, his hand hovering, but not letting itself show that it had any place it wished to be. He stopped. Oh he wasn’t just a virgin, he defined the concept.
“You don’t even touch yourself, I can tell.”
Seymour nervously swallowed and she laughed. She hadn’t just caught him off guard, she owned him now. She owned him in every single way.
“Unzip those pants,” she ordered.
He tried to look away, but she put her hand to his face and made him watch as he put his hand on his pants. She took her other hand and pressed his close, making him feel himself through the fabric. She wasn’t the only one wet. He could feel himself dribbling at the tip. She moved his hand up and down along himself through the fabric. He hadn’t even undone his pants yet and suddenly he found it hard to breathe. The air caught in his lungs. He needed more air. He needed it faster. He was going to pass out. He was going to explode.
His other hand shot to Yuna’s frantically, thought careful not to hurt her. She was in charge, she was in control, and he was the subordinate. He was in no position to even flinch wrong and get away with it.
“Stop,” he pleaded. It was too much. He couldn’t… he couldn’t take it. This was all too unfamiliar, too much.
She pulled his hand off her wrist.
“No, you don’t say that to me,” she said, surprising herself—and exciting herself—in doing so. “You don’t stop me from having fun. You do what I say, and I let you have fun too.”
His hands were shaking under hers. She pushed the second hand away and led the first to the top of his pants. She wrapped his fingers around the button above the fly.
“Come on,” she prodded.
She lifted her hand and he unhitched the button.
“Go on,” she ordered hungrily, slipping her thumbs under the sides of her panties.
He shivered. He whimpered. She could see the small stain on his pants and he squirmed. She pressed her legs tighter around his.
“GO ON.”
His hand shook and he closed his eyes. He panted frantically and he pulled the zipper down as fast as he could.
He wanted to plead with her, but all he managed was a small cry.
She grabbed the edges of his pants and pulled them and his underwear down just enough to get at his hard flesh. She shoved her panties down to just above her knees and slid onto him and he screamed.
She looked down. Although there were tears in his eyes, he was enjoying it. He was terrified at how pleasurable it felt. He obviously thought such a thing was impossible.
She pushed farther down, past her cervix, taking as much of him in him and she could, dripping all over him.
He opened his mouth as she bent down and pressed her breasts, which she swore were chafing on the air itself against his hot, sweaty muscles. Underneath them, there was a hint of malnutrition to him. She could feel his ribs more than she usually would in this position on a man. He tried to say something, but every word caught on his breath and strangled into some undeniable high-pitched noise of pleasure and terror.
“What was that?” Yuna asked, her hand trailing down the side of him. Down form his tattoos, down his ribs, down his long waist, his hips as he bucked furiously and amateurishly, over his thigh, up on the inside until she brushed his testicles and kept up the feather light touch on the very inside of his legs.
“Pl…ease…do...n…t… hurt me…” he pleaded, truly pleaded from her, tears in his eyes. He was afraid. As much as his body wanted this, his mind was ruining everything. He wasn’t something to break, he was something to enjoy, over and over again, to practice on, to improve with. A broken toy gets old so easily, and it’s annoying to look at or hold.
She moved forward, her breasts rolling over his heaving chest, and she met with his face. She kissed the tears away from the lines of blue on his face, just as he bucked harder than before and he clumsily shot cum all over in her.
“You really are a virgin,” she said, smiling.