|A Day's Work Or Not
Author: Lady Aeryn PM
Mushy, semi-PWP Anakin/Padmé scene. There've been *far* too many O/A fics here recently to be healthy; *something* had to be done about it! ;-Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Romance - Anakin Skywalker & Padmé Amidala - Words: 1,529 - Reviews: 14 - Favs: 14 - Follows: 1 - Published: 09-10-01 - id: 398873
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
The landscape that spread before it was nothing short of incredible. A beautiful, sun-washed city of smooth, graceful curves and artistic splendor spread before her, gently fading into the distance into the rolling emerald hills; to her side there was more city... and the edges of cliffs jutting down into oblivion, waterfalls cascading endlessly down their faces.
Padmé couldn't recall seeing a sight more lovely, even though the scene itself had changed little from all the other times she'd seen it in her life. A warm morning wind brushed against her skin, and she become more acutely aware, with a slight blush, that she was clad only in a robe, loosely tied about her waist.
Maybe the company had something to do with her newfound perception, she decided with an inward smile, as a familiar hand began to brush her side.
She didn't resist, closing her eyes and sinking inward as strong arms slowly encircled her from behind; the warm pressing of lips on the side of her neck, the lingering caress of a hand on her face. She didn't even look to see who it was... it was as if this person was always supposed to be here, as if there were no greater feeling than to slip into that person's arms and never let them go, to simply just melt... she found herself doing just that.
"I missed you," the voice from behind said, warm against her ear, sending pleasant tingles all down her side.
"I only just left," she responded, tracing her hand slowly along the line of his jaw. "But any absence does make the heart grow fonder, husband dear," she added, her voice low and elegantly accented.
"So you want me to leave?"
"Only so I can miss you again?" She laughed lightly, turning in his arms to stare upward into his crystal blue eyes. "Aren't we the greedy young man today?"
Anakin Skywalker shrugged and quirked a corner of his mouth upward enigmatically.
"I seem to recall you yourself singing a similar tune last night..."
Her tiny foot then stepped on his larger one, Padmé smiling in satisfaction at the wince she felt him try to stifle, then turning to look back out at the sunrise.
"Did you ever imagine us winding up this way?" he asked her, his voice growing quiet. "Forever I dreamed of it... I keep thinking sometimes I'll still wake up from it..."
She playfully slapped the bare, muscled arm, watched it flinch in surprise. "Shame on you, Anakin. Even after all that's happened, you're still worried it'll be an illusion?" She turned and laced her arms around his neck, pulling him closer against her, the vague sandalwood-like scent of his flesh floating into her nostrils. "Maybe I need to convince you a little more."
"I thought that's what we spent last night doing," he murmured, moving his hands up to just under the curves of her chest...
She slapped his roving hand away. "But, obviously, it wasn't enough."
He shot her a dazzling smile. "You know you love me."
"Yes, you do have a fondness for reminding me of that."
"I only remind you because you seem to think you'll forget."
"Or is it that you're afraid I'll forget, love?"
His arms squeezed more tightly around her, and Padmé's lips tightened slightly. There was so much she loved about Anakin—the way he completed her... how his eyes could display so many different levels of emotion so clearly and simultaneously (like a mirror for her spirit?)... the way he would still blush, looking just like the nine-year old she'd first known would do when embarrassed, even while making love...
The way his gaze turned her into a puddle of warm goo, and his mere whisper in her ear made her blush a thousand times more furiously than any humiliation...
But there was still enough that disturbed her, none the least being this almost possessive fear he seemed to get whenever the notion of him losing her was brought up. Whenever that scared him an entirely different, unpleasant emotion took its place among the multitude in his eyes... and made itself well-known, even if only briefly.
"How often do you ask yourself that?" she asked him.
"Do you really want to know?"
She sighed. "You do know what it means when you answer someone else's question with another, don't you?"
"No, I'm afraid I don't, dear; would you care to elaborate?"
"You're doing it."
"So are you."
She raised an eyebrow. "I'm not going to hit you again," she said, "you expect that." She reached out and coiled the Padawan braid around her finger (though he was a newly-made Knight, she'd asked him to keep it... just for a little longer), pulling his face, cast light bronze in the morning sun, another inch closer. "And if you'd paid any attention in the past you'd know that those diversionary tactics don't work on me."
A warm liquid feeling spread down from her shoulders, slowly dissolving her knees as his hands began to knead the spot between her shoulder blades, then up, down her back, in tandem with a trail of kisses down her neck... oh, he was good, he was very, very good...
(oh, this so stinks royally...!!! no, you couldn't ignore it just this once...)
"Normally, that would work, too dear," she closed her eyes, mentally kicking at the warm tide that threatened to gently pull her into it, "but I really do want an answer this time. And don't you pout at me like that," she wagged a finger chastisingly in front of his affected boyish pout, covering the urge it gave her to just utterly laugh it all away and kiss him.
"If something is worrying you, I do want you to tell me," she said earnestly, giving him a wide-eyed, solemn look of her own.
They stood there for several moments, the silence thicker than it had been a few minutes ago.
"Ani, please." She sighed. "Don't make me withhold privileges from you, after such a promising first night..."
Motivation enough for him? Definitely. "Honestly? I know, like there's another way." He kissed her hair. "Sometimes. Less often than I used to... it was really more utter disbelief that someone like you would want someone like me."
"If I didn't, then walking down that aisle was certainly a mistake," she chuckled lightly. "Ani. I promise you I'm not something you're going to wake up from-- preferably something you'll wake up to."
That last bit had the desired effect-- reassurance softened his eyes a bit. "No, you misunderstand—believe it or not. I don't disbelieve this is happening—though these are the times that make me feel this way most, really. It's just..." he hugged her closer, her head nestled against his sternum. "When reality turns out to be better than the dream you've built up for half of your life, it tends to throw you for a loop." He silenced her retort with a single, fluid motion of turning her face to him, then covering her lips in a kiss. "But that's a loop I'm glad to be thrown in."
He had answered her question, shot off a bad cliché, and managed to sweep her off her feet (for the umpteenth time) all in one sentence. It sparked an odd sense of pride in her; only her Ani could do something like that and perfectly get away with it. More so, there was only one person who she'd let let do that to her.
"If it's a loop that's anything like that one of yours last night, then that's certainly not in dispute," his wife smiled provocatively, her hand sliding down to places no woman but her would ever be able to lay any claim to, causing him to redden slightly even now—even as she slowly, gently slid out of his embrace, backing even more slowly towards the extremely tangled mess of sheets and pillows that was their bed.
"You want to back up that theory?" he ventured.
"That, and any other theory you care to cast at me—we've got all day," she said, raising a sultry eyebrow and flopping back onto the bed, which soon became a tangle when her husband charged forth and tackled her, laughter soon giving way to other, more... happy activities.