Pleasure

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Pleasure
By Ceefax

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Yuna.

She saw him standing in the sun, bright water reflecting in ripples on the sides of ships.

She saw him standing; tall, proud, authoritative. So heart-achingly mature.

She saw his eyes, pulling her out of the crowd and fastening her in place. Eager, cautious, interested eyes. Blue, like Wakka's. Like her father's.

She saw him standing in the lightness, devoid now of crowds, saw herself taking his hand, touching his hair. Saw him smile at her.

She tried to see him naked, not nearly enough information, but she flew on blank whiteness, delighted by her own daring.

She saw him touching her, stroking her cheek, clasping her shoulder. Saw his pleasure and pride in her.

She saw a summoner's staff twirling high above her, and a half-imagined aeon slaying crisply clear fiends. She saw him strong and protective.

She saw the two of them, alone, somewhere dark and secret. Saw those long, long fingers curling around her arms, pulling her close to him. She saw them kiss, slow and gentle, and saw them curl up together, clinging to one another, touching and exploring.

She saw the strange contours of his body, exotic and fascinating.

She saw them standing together, side by side, standing firm between the innocents and the monsters. She saw his skill, and his admiration for her.

She saw herself saving him, beating back the fiends from his broken body and healing him with a practised gesture. She saw him save her in turn, scooping her into his strong arms and carrying her far from the fighting.

She saw them together, the envy of the world they would save.

She saw him atop her, felt his weight on her, heard his whispered words of love and comfort, saw her arms wrap around his shoulders to hold him and keep him close...

...

...She squirmed with delight, arching her back and lifting her hips, gasping deeply. She rolled onto her front and buried her smile in the blankets.

She lay still, quiet and satisfied, and watched the moon shine down on the peaks of the ruins glimpsed above the cliff's edge. She could feel her heart beating in her chest and in her throat, and hear the soft sounds of safe, penned chocobos blending with the waves lapping at the cliff's base.

She lay still, and for a while thought of nothing at all save beauty and happiness.

***

Seymour.

...He saw her sitting on the steps, waiting for the last shoopuf of the evening, gazing absently out across the river. He sat down opposite her, enjoying her slender legs as the brisk breeze blew at her dark skirt. She turned toward him and he looked away, not quite quickly enough. He stared at his boots for several minutes, then risked glancing up again, only to find her looking straight at him. She smiled.

He smiled back, nervously, apologetically, and she turned back to the pyrefly-lit waters, leaning back on her elbows, her breasts outlined beneath taut, white cloth.

The driver called that all was ready and they got to their feet, the only two passengers in the terminus.

Aboard the shoopuf he sat opposite her once again, but she changed seats to sit beside him, giving him a knowing smile as she did. Unsure, he looked away, over the shoopuf's head onto the dark water.

"You can look," she said, softly. "I don't mind."

He turned back. She took his hands, leaned in closer.

"I'm..." he began.

"Shhh..." she whispered, and kissed him...

...He was standing at the prow as the ship thrust through the calm ocean. The island's shore slid by as they headed for the harbour. The wind blew his hair and the sun warmed his bare shoulders. He caught a flash of movement and looked up at the cliffs to see a naked human figure plunging toward the sea.

She entered the water with barely a splash and surfaced half a minute later, clutching a large shellfish in one hand. Cheers and applause burst out across the ship as she swept her wet hair back from her face.

She laughed and waved, the motion causing her to slip back beneath the surface for a second, then she turned and swam towards a tiny patch of beach. The sunlight glistened on her wet, tanned skin, and the waves rippled over her back and buttocks as she swam away.

He kicked off his boots, ran the few steps to the edge of the deck, and dived after her...

...They were lying on a couch in one of the tent-houses favoured on Besaid. From outside there could be heard fevered drumming and faint shouts of merriment. She was wearing a white dress. He looked into her beautifully mismatched eyes and kissed her. She responded clumsily.

He ran a hand from her shoulder to her hip, and she looked away.

"You know I wouldn't hurt you," he said, and kissed her neck. "You don't have to be afraid..."

He drank up the look of fear and excitement on her face and moved in to half-cover her with his body, taking his weight on his hip and elbow. She met his kiss. As she slipped her tongue forward to cautiously lap against his, he cupped her left breast, feeling her nipple harden against his palm...

...He was wearing the sun crown of the High King of the three ancient Guado kingdoms. Surrounded by his elite warriors, he was inspecting a chain of human prisoners.

They were dragged in, chained by the neck, dressed in oddments of fur and daubed with war paint. He seized the nearest - a pretty young woman - and pulled her towards him, her neighbours to either side staggering forward with her.

His guards told him that she was the only daughter of the priest-king, killed as he led his human warriors into battle.

He took her jaw in his hand and forced her mouth open to inspect her teeth. Her eyes were wide with fear and she shrank back as he released her. Smiling cruelly, he pulled a jewelled knife from his belt and, with one smooth, economical movement, he sliced open her shapeless fur garment.

She screamed in terror, trying to curl inwards to cover herself, but coming up short against the chains. The humans were shrieking with fury and outrage, and he joined the derisory laughter of the Guado as she cowered...

...The blue sky filled his vision, light and bright, and the buffeting wind blew in his face. He tightened his grip on her waist, and she laughed with delight, the rushing wind snatching the sound from her lips and flinging it behind them.

To either side, the aeon's dark wings rose and fell, shining leathery skin bunching and writhing with the movement of the muscles. She sat up, lifting her upper body into the slipstream, her hair whipping back, her robe rippling around her.

He tugged her back to lie flat on the aeon's back and they clung together, hearts thumping with helpless exhilaration. The aeon's head raised to call out, a wild, primitive, uncontrolled sound, and he pressed their wind-chilled bodies closer together.

They dipped down towards the sky-blue ocean, the aeon gliding, stiff-winged, on the up-drafts. Their lips met as the wooden struts of Kilika flashed past.

He could feel the power of the aeon, pulsing in his hands and his heart and his cock; and as she squirmed eagerly against him, he knew she understood too. With the taste of salt on their lips and the wind on their skin, they flew free together over the world they were sworn to protect...

...He was striding through ankle deep sand, a cloth wrapped over his nose and mouth. His uniform - that of the highest rank in the warrior monks - and his skin were covered in dust. He ducked into a hastily erected structure, draped in heavy protective curtains adorned with Yevonite prayers. Inside were two monks, standing guard on either side of the door, and their charges: three Al Bhed prisoners, fresh from the battlefield.

The monks bowed to him, and he gave them a brisk nod of acknowledgement. "You," he said, pointing to the only female prisoner. "Come with me."

The other Al Bhed protested, but neither he nor she paid them any mind. The monks tensed, ready to intervene if necessary, but the woman silenced her companions with two sharp words and stepped up to her captor, head held high.

He seized her by the upper arm, briefly checked that her hands were securely bound behind her back, and pulled her outside, just quickly enough to throw her off her self-assured stride.

He marched her across the sand - she had to trot to keep up with him, but didn't lose her footing - to a smaller building of bare, grey metal, this one unoccupied. He pushed her in before him and closed the door, hinges scraping over infiltrating sand grains. He locked it behind him.

The room was bare and dim, lit only by two hooded slats near the ceiling. The Al Bhed woman had backed away as far as she could, but he reached her in two easy paces. He gripped her by the collar and reached for her goggles, changing his grip to her hair when she spat something acerbic in Al Bhed and twisted her face away. She tried to kick at him and he pinned her against the wall with his body, finally lifting her goggles away from her eyes.

But instead of the spirals he had been expecting, he found himself looking into round pupils, spread wide in the darkness and blazing with fury...

...He walked out onto the lower balcony at St Bevelle. The Grand Maester was reclining beneath a large parasol. She was wearing a simple white robe and watching the crowds in the plaza below.

He knelt before her and bowed to the ground. She extended a delicate, sandalled foot and stroked his cheek. He glanced quickly at the entranceway, then pressed his lips to the tips of her toes.

She smiled, lazily, and shifted on her seat, stretching into a more comfortable position. "You always submit to me so beautifully, Lord."

"Your grace honours me," he replied, sitting up and leaning against her chair. She laughed, the pretty sound mingling with the faint noise of the crowd.

Shielded by the waist-high wall at the balcony's edge, he clasped her ankle in a long-fingered hand, then stroked slowly upwards, cupping his palm against her calf.

She gazed beyond him, out over the city. "Look at them all," she said, thoughtfully.

He watched the tiny figures mill about below them. "They all love you," he told her, running his hand from knee to ankle and back again.

She smiled, toed off her sandals, and stretched one leg out towards him. He knelt back, took her foot in his hand, and began to lick at her toes.

He started with short, dry laps over the tops of the delicate little digits, then dragged the flat along the tips of all five. She gasped as he pushed his tongue into the sensitive spaces between her toes.

They met each other's eyes and exchanged a grin. Without lowering her gaze, she loosened her robe and parted her legs. He shifted closer and leaned in to her, pressing his cheek against the delicious softness of her inner thigh. Eagerly inhaling her scent, he pushed the robe away, leaving the top half to seem respectable enough to anyone who might happen to glance up at the balcony, but revealing her sex to his gaze.

He kissed reverently at her thigh and she reached down to lightly touch his face. The neat, crisp curls of her dark hair gleamed gold, caught in the bright morning sun and, thrilled with the thought of her naked and ready beneath the thin robe, he reached out one finger (claw carefully pared to be as smooth and blunt as possible) and stroked apart her soft, moist folds.

She gave a sigh of satisfaction and anticipation. Her fingers brushed over his ears, down his shoulders, and returned to clasp loosely at the back of his neck.

With the murmur of the crowds and her deep, heavy breaths washing over him, he leaned forward to lick...

...He came in out of a harsh Macalania winter. The embers of the fire were still smouldering and, eager to feel the homely warmth, he struggled out of his heavy snow-caked clothing. She turned over in her nest of blankets and blinked sleepily at him before smiling and raising the covers invitingly.

He dropped the last of his clothes in a heap and crawled in. They lay naked, belly to belly, and she kissed him. "You're so cold," she whispered, wrapping her arms and legs around him and pulling him closer. "Poor thing..." He put one arm around her shoulders and curled the other over her hips to caress her sleep-warm buttocks. She gave a low moan of pleasure and kissed his throat.

The warmth and comfort were wonderful after the hard journey through unforgiving ice, and he revelled in her soft, eager embrace. From kissing his throat, she moved to nibbling his shoulders, tracing the lines of tattoo with her fingers. "Missed you," she told him, before tracing them instead with her tongue.

"Did you?" he asked, teasingly, slipping his hands between her legs, finding her wet and yielding.

She ground her hips slowly against his fingers.

He pushed his cock between the tops of her thighs, pressing against her lips, and she squeezed him tight. They hugged, kissed and squirmed, gently. She ran her thin, delicate human nails across his back in swirling circles.

"Please," she whispered, shifting her hips, trying to slip him inside her. He rolled them both, pulling her on top, and she sat up, straddling him, the furs falling away from her shoulders. He cradled her breasts in his hands, her nipples rosy and hard, and she lifted herself onto the soles of her feet, rubbed the head of his cock between her lips until positioned to her satisfaction, then lowered herself onto him. He sighed deeply, his cock engulfed in slick, strong muscle. When they were pressed flush together, she moved her hips in small circles, squeezing him in ripples.

He stroked carefully at the place where they joined. As his fingers found the hard little nub where her folds met, she cried out and began to thrust, her breasts bouncing with her movement. He spread his fingers flat on her belly, using his thumb to stoke her in small circles. Her breath coming in moans, she flung her head back and clamped down onto him, shaking all over, squeezing him tight...

...He had just come off stage, eyes still dazzled from the lights and head still ringing from the noise. She followed him to his dressing room, and as he peeled off his sweat-soaked shirt he saw her, standing by the door, looking as though she shouldn't be there; looking far too sweet and innocent to have been at a show like that.

Neither spoke. They didn't need to. They kissed once, and she fell to her knees before him. "Look at me," he demanded, and she did, gazing up at him as his cock filled her willing mouth.

She looked so sweet, but she licked so well, and swallowed every last drop; and when she was done, she looked up at him with eyes full of love and admiration, kissed his cheek, and was gone...

...He was naked, locked in one of the hanging cages deep in Bevelle's underground jail, watching as she dealt with another prisoner.

She was bare from the waist up, her skin shining, and a braided whip hung from her right hand to drag across the floor, leaving a trail of blood behind it.

There was a wet gurgle from the sorry pile of flesh on the floor as she bent over it.

As she straightened, she met his eyes. He shook with fear, but couldn't look away. She held out her hand, wet with her victim's blood, touched it to her nipples, tongue and eyelids, gave him a bloodstained smile, and strode towards him...

...They stood at the tip of a monolith of machina, looking out at the sea and the rippling reflections of millions of lights shining out from bustling Zanarkand. In the distance, a disturbance in the water - not close enough to make out details, but they both knew what approached. She turned to him and stroked his cheek, lovingly.

"You know what we have to do," she whispered.

He nodded, solemnly, and embraced her...

...They were fucking, centre-stage at Luca Stadium - every spotlight trained upon their naked, rutting bodies, and the crowd screamed its approval as she screamed her pleasure...

...He stepped off the ship and met her eyes through the crowd. They stared for a second, then they were running - they came together on the dock and he scooped her into his arms, squeezed her as tight as he could, swung her through the air as she shrieked for joy...

...

...He opened his eyes to the ceiling of his cabin, the morning light reflecting in water-ripples on the walls, the soft breeze from the open window ruffling his hair. He squeezed his cock slowly and gently, milking the last of the aftershocks. With a yawn and a stretch he rolled to his feet, the hectic images already pushed far to the back of his mind.

Luca was behind them, nothing but sea stretching to the horizon. A satisfied smile on his face, he hurried through his familiar morning rituals, ready to join Mika on deck.

It was a brand new day, and there was work to be done.

***

The end.

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