Let's Pretend (Final Fantasy VI, Lock/Celes, R)

[queenoftheskies.livejournal.com]

Title: Let's Pretend
Author/Artist: queenoftheskies
Rating: R
Warnings: foreplay, partial nudity
Word count: 2,714
Prompt: Final Fantasy VI - Locke/Celes - roleplay - "okay, but next time you have to wear the floozy dress"
A/N: I'm late. Sorry.
Summary: Locke and Celes have some role play time while the others are away.


The airship was quiet with everyone in town. It was nice and yet, at the same time, it was almost creepy. They'd seen so much action, been wrapped in so much turmoil that she wasn't sure it was safe to take even the smallest of breaks. Setzer had insisted though, and had hidden the airship in a secluded valley ringed by mountains.

The others still avoided her mostly. When they'd paired off, or taken off alone for rest and relaxation in the nearest town, she'd stayed behind, though she wasn't sure why. She had needs that the others couldn't seem to satisfy: acceptance, security, companionship.

She still wasn’t sure she wasn’t dreaming, was still afraid she’d wake up to find herself chained to the wall, awaiting execution. A smile flickered at her lips. She'd never considered herself a damsel in distress or that her knight in shining armor would be a Returner thief. Perhaps being rescued hadn't been so bad in and of itself but it would have been nicer if the knight had also turned out to be her prince charming.

Celes wandered between the gaming tables. Her exoneration hadn't been exactly her idea of a fairytale rescue or the airship, a castle keep, but in spite of the flicker or romance deep inside, she wasn't exactly a romantic herself. That had been bred out of her when she'd been raised by the Empire, though Cid had snuck her dresses and dolls and storybooks when the others weren't watching. The resulting influence left her a general, a magic-user unparalleled, except by maybe Terra or Kefka, a swordswoman extraordinaire, with a crème filled center that nobody knew about and desires she dared not show.

The fingers of her left hand trailed across one felt covered table top. It was marked off in colored lines and symbols. She wondered what they meant, if the game was any fun. She’d never experienced life outside the Magitech Research Facility when she was growing up, and now that she was an adult, she'd spent all her time in Vector or called to battle.

Until now.

What would it be like to have a life, to be another person, to experience another lifestyle even if for a little while?

The door opened behind her and she whirled to find Locke framed in it, dressed in the finest suit--dark linen with a white silk shirt and black string bow tie--she’d ever seen. He’d washed and combed his dirty blond hair, discarded his worn bandana, and lock picks, and looked about as pretty as she’d ever seen a man look.

“I thought you went into town with the others.”

The ghost of a smile played at his lips. “Couldn’t leave you here unattended, now, could I?”

“I didn’t think I warranted guards any longer.” An evening alone with Locke? Her heart beat a little faster at the thought.

“Maybe I just wanted to make sure you didn’t need rescuing again.” The smile struggled to break free, but he hid it behind a poker face.

“Generals don’t need rescuing,” she said, though they both knew he’d saved her life.

“Maybe not generals, but sometimes pretty women need saving from…oh, too much time alone.”

“Or from unscrupulous men who prey on them?”

That won a laugh. He bowed. “Unscrupulous at your service, Ma’am.”

“Where’d you get the outfit?” she asked, looking him up and down. She wasn’t about to admit it to him, but he cleaned up real nice.

“Same place I got this.” From behind his back, he pulled out a package wrapped in glittering paper. He waited a moment and when she made no move to accept, he said, “Go ahead. Take it.”

“You broke into Setzer’s room.”

Locke shrugged, but his pleased with himself grin told her everything she needed to know.

“He’ll kill you.”

“He’ll never know.” Locke pressed the package into her hands. “Unless, of course, you tell him.”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

Locke’s grin deepened. He looked around the room, his eyes drinking in the opulence. “Haven’t you ever wondered what it would be like to live this way?”

“No.” She hoped he couldn’t read the lie in her eyes.

“I saw the way you touched that dice table,” he reminded her. His fingers trailed the top until they touched hers. “Think about it. You. Me.” He indicated their surroundings with a sweep of his right arm. “We could never have all this, but…” He paused, leaning close. “We could pretend we did, for one night.”

Her pulse quickened again. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Open the box and see.”

She left her fingers run across the slick paper, tried to hide her curiosity. “If Setzer’s saving this for Maria, he’ll have your hide.”

“It's not Setzer's. I bought it,” he said. A flush crept into his cheeks. He cleared his throat. “In town. For you.”

“For me?” No one but Cid had ever given her a gift, unless the dreadful lizards Kefka had left for her as a child counted. She toyed with the swirls of ribbon that adorned the box. It was beautiful, like a perfect confectionary; almost too beautiful to open.

“Come on," he urged. "Open it.”

The mischief in his eyes was more than she could stand, so she tore the paper free of the box and lifted the lid an inch. “This isn’t going to explode, is it?”

“I guess that depends on you.”

The lid followed the wrapping paper and ribbons onto the floor and Celes found herself looking at a mass of lace and ribbons, all in pale golds and white. “What is it?” It was beautiful and yet, she was almost afraid to know.

“Take it out. Try it on.”

Hauling it free of the box, her eyes drank in layers of fine fabric trimmed in gold-tipped lace and interwoven with gold satin ribbon. It was the most beautiful dress she’d ever seen, though she’d hardly imagined anything like it existed. She was accustomed to leather and armor with an occasional dress tunic thrown in for special occasions. She’d never really dressed like a woman until the day she’d worn Maria’s gown to bait the trap for Setzer.

Still, that dress had belonged to someone else. She’d never had one she could call her own. Not that she’d thought about it…until now. “It’s…beautiful.”

“Try it on,” he repeated.

“I’m not…I’ve never…” She dropped the gown onto the table. “I’m a soldier, Locke. I don’t know how to be anything else.”

“But, haven’t you ever wondered what it would be like to be another person? Haven’t you ever wanted to…pretend?”

She couldn’t deny, as she’d looked through Maria’s expensive gowns and combs, and jewelry, that she hadn’t wondered what it would be like to be a diva instead of a general, to live in luxury instead of on a battlefield, to command admiration for her beauty instead of respect for her rank.

“I’m sorry.” She wasn’t that person no matter how much she wanted to be. “I’ve never had time for make believe.”

“All the more reason to try it,” he encouraged. “All the more reason to set yourself free.” He lifted the dress, held it up to her. “Let go of your guilt and responsibility. Set aside your armor, your sword, for one night. That’s all I’m asking.”

She took the dress and their hands touched briefly, hers warm, his still cool from outside. They raised goosebumps that sent a shiver down her spine and set butterflies free in the pit of her stomach. She wanted him, but he had to work for her. “Okay, but next time you have to wear the floozy dress.”

“Me?” Locke tapped his chest. “I don’t have the assets for…”

Celes tapped her foot on the ground, folded the dress and laid it back in the box. Pity he didn’t want to play as bad as she’d thought. His game held more than a little potential. It was exciting enough to seduce, or be seduced, by a man like Locke, but to pretend, to imagine they were people living other lives...the potential was limitless.

He considered a moment. She turned half away, but watched him from the corner of her eye.

“Okay,” he said when she was about to put the lid on the box. “Okay, whatever you want.”

“Anything?”

“Within reason.”

"I want you to dress me," she said with a smile.

Locke nodded. His eyes lit. "I'm all yours."

She could still back out if she wanted. But, she didn't. "And I'm all yours."

She was glad she'd already disposed of her armor, when his hands lit on the front of her tunic. She didn't think she could last long enough for him to remove a full set of armor. The elusive smile returned to play at the corners of his lips, though he never actually smiled. His eyes rose to meet hers in challenge.

What was it she saw there? Lust? Promise? Promise, she decided. But, of what?

He unfastened the laces and unstrung them slowly, his fingers working the garment loose as they went. When he reached the bottom, he knelt before her; his fingers dropped to her heavy belt. He unfastened it with practiced ease and then set about the laces that held her breeches closed. Little tremors of anticipation shivered across her skin. She tensed, awaiting the touch that never came.

Instead, he rose, unfastened her cuffs one at a time, bent to kiss her wrist. Her pulse jumped. She knew he must feel it with his lips. His tongue sampled her skin, just a quick taste. He took the tender skin in his mouth and nipped, gently still.

His hot breath trailed down to her palm, where his lips settled again. The tip of his tongue drew designs on her skin, left a wet trail when he licked his way to her fingertips. Heat pooled in the pit of her stomach and spread outward until all the sensitive bits tingled and throbbed. Her fingers were like candy to him. He tasted each one, sucked, dragging them in and thrusting them from his mouth slowly.

Celes shuddered, wondering what it would be lick to feel his hot lips, his wet tongue, on other parts of her body.

His hands slid up her arms, to her shoulders, to her face. He cupped her cheeks, pressed his lips to hers, his kiss hard and insistent. “If I was a gambler and I’d kidnapped a diva,” he whispered into her ear, “I’d have my way with her.” The tip of his tongue traced the curve of her ear.

“What if said diva,” she asked breathlessly, “was really an Imperial general in disguise?”

“Mmmm,” he said, nibbling on the tender skin beneath her ear, “then I’d have to convince her I was on her side and she on mine, and that I could pleasure her far more on my air ship than a lunatic could in his cold bed.”

Celes pulled away from him, hurt and angry.

His hands slid down to the front of her tunic; his eyes locked with hers. “But, that’s only if I was an infamous gambler and I happened to get my hands on an Imperial general.”

“You have no idea…”

He opened her tunic. The unlaced laces fell to their feet. Celes gasped when he pushed the shirt off her shoulders. His hands dropped to her waist. He pulled her close.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered when their bodies touched. “I’d never hurt you. You should know that by now.”

“Words can be cruel,” she sighed.

“Love can be crueler.” For a moment, distant memories clouded his eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

He silenced her with a kiss. A whisper of hot breath against her lips, he said, “Even the most broken of hearts can mend. They only need a diva, or a general, worthy of the risk.”

“You can’t love me,” she countered. She couldn’t love him. She was stronger than love.

His hands slid up her back, palms caressing, fingers tickling along her spine. She squirmed and wriggled against him. He hardened against her.

Before she realized it, his fingers had found the clasps to her upper under garments and in true thief form, he’d robbed her of them and left her half naked against him.

“I thought you were a gambler,” she teased, her mouth finding his chin. “Not a thief.”

“Old habits die hard.” One tug relieved his tie of its bow.

Celes tangled her fingers in it, unbuttoned his top shirt buttons while she pulled it free. His chest was warm beneath her lips. He moaned when she licked, hardened more when she nipped at the skin of his throat.

His hands slid between them, across her flat stomach and up, until each covered a breast. Fingers curled around them, squeezed them, pinched the nipples until the smoldering embers between her legs burst into flames.

His mouth dropped to her throat, his tongue tasting and exploring, teeth burning when he bit. He hit all the right spots before dropping lower, kissing his way down to the hollow between her breasts. Her nipples tingled. Her body tensed.

She watched him through lowered lashes, tangled her fingers in his blond hair. Once he looked up at her, eyes only half open, tongue extended to capture one nipple again. The touch sent a shiver down her body. He latched onto the breast, sucked until her legs went weak.

Nipping at the sensitive skin, he teased the underside of her breasts, working his way lower, until he stopped to plunge his tongue into her navel. Celes’ eyes closed; she shuddered in anticipation.

Lower. His lips made their way down to her breeches. His hands slid them over her hips and off her backside. He caressed her, kissed her through her underclothes, nipped and nibbled until she squirmed again, pressing herself against him, longing to feel his tongue inside her, his lips and hands against her bare skin.

When her pants pooled at her ankles, he unfastened her boots and removed them, tossing them aside. Her body grew cold; she ached for his touch. And then she was out of her them both, boots and pants, clad only in her panties. He knelt between her legs, ran his hands up and along the inside until he reached her panties where he stroked her through the fabric until she thought she’d scream.

She wanted him more than she’d ever wanted a man, wanted to rip the clothes off him and tackle him right there on the thick carpeted floor. But, he rose before she could act, turning to the table where the dress lay in a pile of frills.

He lifted it gently, almost reverently, shaking it out before returning to her. Their eyes met; he almost smiled as he lifted the arm full of material and dropped it over her head.

It slid down around her, soft and smooth against her taunt nipples, caressing each already aroused part of her body. A soft tremble ran through her. The dress fit tight at the top, hugging and accentuating her curves, supporting her full breasts, snug at her small waist. The full skirt fell to the floor, rustled and swirled with every movement she made. She slid her hands over her breasts and down her hips, smoothing the few wrinkles that remained, savoring the feel of the fabric beneath her hands.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, stepping back to admire her. Picking up the loose strands of his tie, he looped it beneath his collar and remade the bow. “Now, good lady.” He looked around the room, offered her his arm. “Which game shall we play first?”

Celes threw herself at Locke, wrapped her arms around his neck, and fastened her lips to the lobe of his ear. There was only one game she was interested in, a game that didn't require dice or tables, though she imagined they might come in handy for advanced play.

He didn’t resist. His hand climbed the front of her dress to caress one breast. “We don’t have much time,” he reminded her. "The others will return soon."

“I know.” They had to hurry. Lips against his ear, she whispered, “Undress me.”