This chapter contains adult, NC-17 scenes
It was less than twelve hours later when Anakin started coughing. It was the middle of the night and in their pressurised chamber they were curled together in slumber. Pressed together from thigh to shoulder, Padmé's face buried in the back of Anakin's neck.
But they both woke to the hacking of Anakin's lungs.
Padmé could literally feel the harsh vibrations beneath her palms and against her chest.
Her head rested on his shoulder, sleepily trying to work out the sudden worry that was making her stomach feel heavy. It took a moment for the seriousness of the situation to fully register in her consciousness.
When it did she immediately sat up and rolled him onto his back. Her hand scrambled for the panel to bring up the lights. Soon she was looking down intently into his eyes. Her fingers fretfully running over the length of his jerking chest.
"That doesn't sound good," she worried.
He shook his head and squeezed his eyelids shut as another bout seized him.
"I'm going to call your doctor," Padmé immediately declared.
He wanted to fight it, he'd already spent far too much of his day with that man. Then a thought struck him: coughing meant something was wrong with his lungs, his incredibly fragile lungs. The ones that would have to be very carefully sustained until he got his new ones in three years.
If something happened to them and he was seriously ill or worse, killed, that would leave Padmé and Leia and Luke alone.
And he would be without them.
He immediately stopped reaching out, and didn't prevent her from activating a com link.
"Would you be able to come now? Anakin's coughing quite viciously," he heard her explain quietly.
His hand reached out and grasped for hers. He hadn't been sick since he'd become – suited. He actually feared something could be really wrong.
Padmé's hand reached out and enclosed around his. Even though it was no longer his flesh hand, he could feel the pressure of her squeezing fingertips registering as impulses where the hand joined his own nerves. It calmed him.
"He'll be here soon. You'll be alright," she tried to assure.
For once he didn't believe her. There was a terrified kind of panic hiding behind her eyes.
"You should – get dressed," he tried to smile for her sake.
It didn't work. The pause mid sentence to drag in breath only deepened her frown. She stayed right where she was beside him, feeling his forehead and chin with her hands.
"Please," Anakin entreated.
His hand reached up and traced the curve of her breast meaningfully.
"I thought this was only for me."
He watched with satisfaction as she tried not to shudder beneath his touch.
"That's really the least of our worries right now," Padmé tried to berate him.
Unsuccessfully it would seem. She had a small smile creeping up onto her face that she couldn't hide, and he saw it.
He was just opening his mouth to catch her out, when he had to sit up and lean forward as another round of coughs broke out. He could literally feel an almost scraping sensation at his back. A painful one that was spreading out from one point and encompassing almost half his chest.
Her soft hand slid over his back. If for no reason other than she was Padmé, her touch seemed to take away some of the most blinding pain. He made a sound of appreciation and leaned into her, grateful for the warmth.
After a minute the dragging sensation at the back of his throat ceased and he was left trying to gasp in breath.
"I wish they would hurry," she worried.
Loving hands reached into his hair and started stroking it back. Closing his eyes he briefly leaned further into her, wrapping his arms around her.
"Don't be afraid," he soothed, his voice husky from his almost raw throat.
Resting his head on her shoulder he recognized the irony that she was more worried about his body than he was. Her arms slipped around him too, and he could feel her cheek resting on his head.
"Three little words I hope never to hear again," he heard her whisper into his hair.
Anakin obviously wasn't supposed to catch them.
"Why?" he couldn't resist asking.
"Last time you said them we were about to be executed."
He frowned, thinking back to that day. Just what she didn't need to think about right now: war and the threat of death.
"Last time," he corrected softly. "You told me you loved me."
She softly snorted. The air ran over the short hairs on his head and he could feel it across his scalp. Invigorating him like her laughter did. Trying to distract her he tickled his fingers up and down her back.
"Now, are you going to get dressed?"
He tried to keep his breathing steady and fight off the coming burst he could feel. If she was reminded again of his worsening condition the doctor may actually enter and witness a sight Anakin would rather keep private. Her gloriously naked body.
For a moment Padmé eyed him warily, then reached out for her nightgown and tugged it on. Anakin could almost sigh in relief, content that her modesty would not be intruded upon because his body had decided to fall apart.
"Happy?" she teased.
"Yes. Thank you."
He couldn't hold out any longer and burst into a series of deeply seated coughs that couldn't deny just how sick he was becoming.
"It will be alright," he grinned alarmingly when they'd settled down.
"That's optimistic," she dryly replied.
Smirking, Anakin pulled his now clothed Padmé back into his arms. With a sigh he rested his head on her shoulder and settled in to wait for the doctor to appear. He knew everything would be just fine – they were together after all.
"I've lost all my limbs, had third degree burns to seventy percent of my body, lost half the capacity of my lungs, lost all of my hair, I'm confined to a pressurised suit – and I still spent last night making you shatter in my arms."
His smile was genuine as he pressed his lips to the unblemished skin of her neck.
"I'm inclined to believe this will work out too."
She shifted in his arms and held him closer. He could half-hear a mumble along the lines of "I suppose," but didn't question her. They remained in silence, Anakin trying to steady his breathing to synchronise with the steady rate of Padmé's. As they sat there quietly, Padmé's legs moved, obviously trying to prevent a cramp. They both gasped as he too moved to accommodate her, only to find himself pressed up against the warmth he'd been buried deep inside only hours earlier.
They pulled apart, eyes meeting with laughter that couldn't be suppressed. Anakin rolled his hips, deliberately teasing her and grinning at the mimicking response.
Her eyes raked down his body quite deliberately, lingering in his lap.
"Will you be getting dressed too or would you prefer the doctor saw you as I did?"
"He might not see that if you don't get off me."
She cocked her head confusedly while he leaned forward and whispered into her ear "He wouldn't see anything if I was buried deep inside you."
With a yelp Padmé struggled out of his lap. His urge to laugh disappeared as he felt the writhing pain coming on once more. He quickly held out his hand and Padmé placed the cloth material of Jedi sleep pants in them.
At that moment the communicator near the door rung too.
Padmé turned her head to the doorway and quickly hurried over, barely giving Anakin time to slip into the dark fabric. His harsh, hacking coughs started up again, and for the first time Padmé was glad someone was going to invade their private sanctuary. Because she wanted, needed to know that Anakin was all right. And the way he was rasping as if he was still wearing that blasted suit did not sound good at all.
Under her fingers she commanded the door open, and found a freshly decontaminated doctor on the other side. Not Anakin's physician, that man was taking his genetic samples to an organ growth facility. But his second in command, a Twi'lek who had often worked in conjunction with the more familiar practitioner. At this moment she didn't care if it was Obi-Wan himself, as long as they could heal Anakin.
"That doesn't sound good," the female noted.
The questioning look she sent Padmé didn't go unnoticed, and the co-Chancellor wished she'd thought to bring a robe into their bedroom. Still, that couldn't be helped now, and the attention of the blue-hued woman turned back to the rasping, half-naked bodyguard.
"What's wrong with him? Is it serious?" Padmé demanded, trying to remain business-like and impersonal but failing terribly.
The doctor set down her medkit on the bedside and took out a device, pressing it to Anakin's back as he breathed laboriously. She made a few humming noises then moved the blinking node to his chest, watching the readings.
"Breathe deeply," she commanded.
Padmé hovered nervously behind, her anxious eyes flitting over Anakin's pained features. Was it something she'd done? Had she not decontaminated thoroughly enough? Had one of the babies introduced bacteria into this room?
Five minutes went past as the Twi'lek calmly assessed all of Anakin's symptoms. A few times her eyes flicked from her recognisable patient to his even more famous companion.
The observations didn't go unnoticed and Padmé crossed her arms over her chest protectively. Again she wished she had something to cover up and look more respectable. This doctor was going to leave with the information that the Hero With No Fear wasn't dead, and that he was half naked in the middle of the night with one of the galaxy's leaders.
In the scheme of things that is nothing Padmé told herself firmly. His health is more important than any salacious gossip she could produce.
"Lie back please," the doctor finally instructed.
Anakin held out his hand in the first showing of weakness and Padmé immediately felt ridiculous. He was obviously worried and here she'd been contemplating tabloid reports. Walking around the doctor now perched on the side of their bed, she took her husband's cybernetic hand in her own.
"You'll be ok," she whispered softly.
His hand squeezed hers tightly, a subtle show that revealed only to her how frightened he was. Padmé quickly leaned over, placing her other hand on the skin of his shoulder to give it a gentle massage. Reassuring him with her touch, and hoping he could feel her love.
"What's wrong?" she demanded.
The doctor unpacked a mask and some small tubes labelled with chemical compounds.
"You have a mild infection in your throat that your artificial lungs have no capacity to filter."
She placed the mask over his face and told him to breathe regularly.
"A minute of this anti-bacterial air should eliminate the contaminant and the coughing will stop."
Padmé shifted her fingers in her husband's hand, loving the way he twined his warm digits more possessively around hers. Their eyes locked and Anakin seemed to be screaming the words 'I love you' at her without moving his lips or making a sound. The mask covered half his face as he tried to breathe in deep lungfuls of the medicated gas. Reminding her of the awful mask he had to wear outside their room. And how different he was when they were in here. When he was nothing but her lover.
"How did he get the infection?"
It was taking all her strength not to run her fingers along the small lengths of his hair. She wanted the doctor to leave, and take the blasted mask with her. So she could sink down and capture his lips. So she could run her hands over his skin to remind herself he was still with her. So she could ultimately surround his body and once more take him as her own.
"Probably when he was in our offices and out of his suit today. The decontamination chamber here at your home is much more thorough because it has to account for small children, so it is logical that it is ours that was the culprit."
A huge sigh of relief begged to be expelled from Padmé's lungs. Not the babies then, that was good.
"All done," the doctor finished, pulling the mask off and turning to pack up her equipment.
Padmé looked down at his pale lips, and was almost overcome by the urge to touch them with her own. He was breathing at regular intervals once more, healthy enough to be loved. She found his loving gaze with her own, her head dipping almost unconsciously making it clear she meant to kiss him.
His sharp jaw clenched and shook minutely, just enough to pull her out of her haze. His eyes shifted to the doctor and then back to her. Padmé blinked, looking down to her hand as he squeezed it again. Nodding in understanding she stood, determined to set the doctor on her way.
"I am lucky the Chancellor was nearby to call for help," Anakin murmured, breaking away from Padmé's gaze.
With a small grin flirting at the corners of her lips she watched the doctor pause, his fingers subtly waving.
"Very lucky," the young doctor seemed to agree then made to leave.
The moment the door had shut behind her Padmé fled back into his loving arms. Taking him into a deeply tender embrace she pressed herself as close as she could without hurting him. A deep sob choked out of her at the thought that it could have been something more. The thought of losing him terrified her, and she'd never been more confronted with it than just now.
For a moment they sat in silence. Anakin rested his head in the crook of her neck, disappearing into the curls that loosely hung around her shoulders, and she anxiously ran her fingers up and down his naked back. Trying to reassure herself that he really was alright, that his coughing, and the threat to his fragile body, was gone.
"Lie back," she murmured, lowering him to the bed beneath them.
Anakin watched in silence as Padmé mouthed a wet trail down his sides. Her soft tongue rasping with the gentle sucking that carefully avoided his lung controls. Darting back out into the middle once she'd passed the black box. When she teased over his navel he knew what she was going to do. And groaned.
"Padmé," came out long and low as he fell onto his back.
Her deft hands slipped underneath the waistband of his pants and slowly began tugging them off. Mechanical fingers whirred as they fisted into the austere sheets of their bed. The feeling of Padmé's experienced fingers slipping beneath him and cupping his buttocks was too arousing.
Then her mouth moved down. He rose up, just enough to support his weight on his elbows and look down at her. The site of her dark curls spilling over his powerful thighs almost drove him wild. She used her teeth – nipping at the rough hairs of his groin. Teasing him.
"Do it," he begged.
Naughty eyes looked up at him, promising so much as her lips parted. Were wetted by her pink tongue. Then glanced down to where a pale thick length jutted from the nest of blonde hairs and slipped over it.
She licked and teased her practised wifely mouth until he was about to scream.
"Suck it in, please, Padmé!" he anxiously implored.
And she did just that.
Padmé quietly moaned as she welcomed Anakin's demanding hardness into her mouth. With her hand she gestured for him to thread one of his hands through her hair.
That was all the encouragement he needed. Guiding her to move with him he probed her throat with his desperate length. And she loved it. The feeling of her young husband losing his self-control to her was so satisfying. It allowed her to squeeze the muscled behind she loved, sink her fingers into it and knead his hot flesh while pulling that generous shaft deeper inside her.
Oh, yes, Ani she internally appreciated, covering him with her tongue and mouth for all she was worth.
His silky skin slipping back and forth in her mouth.
Their gazes were locked to one another in an intense link. Padmé could see him struggling to hold back, to keep from rushing his climax too early. She had no such plans, and wanted him, here, and now, and splashing into her throat.
He sat up so he could free both hands and cupped her hot cheeks. Staring down at her stretched lips in agonised desire as she worked her soft mouth on him for all she was worth. Anakin cupped her chin and held her there as his climax began to approach. His thrusting was programmed, no longer his own will as he strived to reach a climax – something he'd only ever experienced in Padmé's arms.
This time was no different. It came screaming out of him at full place. He struggled to keep his eyes open, watching her beautiful throat struggle to gulp it all down.
When he thought she could take no more he released her. But her mouth hungered for his salty taste and pulled back only a moment to encourage
"Give me more Anakin,"
before she lowered herself back on.
His eyelids fluttered closed. Forced into ecstasy by her soft entreaty, he rested his hand against her throat and mindlessly rasped his fingers over it. He could feel her gulping all the sticky seed he was producing into her belly.
Scalding hot jets fired into her welcoming mouth until he had no more to give and he collapsed in exhaustion.
Feeling a very content Padmé curl up under his arm and whisper
"Good night Anakin," with much self-satisfaction, he drifted off.
The next evening Padmé grasped a handful of her own hair out of the way, allowing Ellé's careful hands to sculpt another section. She glanced away from the careful directions of her handmaiden, into the large mirror in front of her. Setting eyes on a dark hand waving back and forth in the air and watching the bright shapes drift after it as if on an air current.
Anakin was playing with the twins. The pair of infants were lying on her bedcovers, laughing as he amused them. The floating toys were a regular sight – his favourite game to keep them happy. But like all other times, it was a silent game, and it was that little fact she regretted the most.
"Talk to them," she requested from across the room, where she was seated at her dressing table.
He looked up, the dark shields that protected his eyes angling towards her mirrored gaze.
"No," that dark voice refused.
"You're not going to talk to them all night?" she prompted with a knowing smirk.
His firm, no-nonsense reply surprised her.
"I'm coming with you."
Padmé's head whipped around, lucky that Ellé had just finished tucking in the last part.
"No you're not, it's too dangerous. You haven't fully recovered and I won't risk your health."
"And I won't risk your safety. I'm coming with you."
"Please," she quietly begged. "Stay home with the twins, this dinner will have plenty of security. Jedi."
"Not good enough," he growled.
She watched Ellé brushing back a loose hair, waiting until it was pinned before she rose.
"Please Anakin. I wouldn't forgive myself if you got sick and something worse happened."
Carefully she rested her hand on his shoulder, wishing he wasn't in his suit. So she could run her fingers through his hair. Sift all the strands as she caressed his head, the easiest way to soothe him.
"You would destroy me if I didn't go and you were hurt," came the terse, bitter-sounding return.
Padmé studied him though there was no way to see his features. Instead she analysed the different cues she was slowly getting used to. The bracing of his legs. The tensing of his muscles beneath her palm. His fist clenching into the bedspread.
"You need to stay home and rest. You're the most precious thing in my life…"
Her heart stumbled at the thought of his health deteriorating, of having to face the possibility of – being without him. She slowly fell forward, resting her cheek on his shoulder and slipping her arms around his waist. Trying not to show that she was choking up.
"I don't know what I'd do if I lost you Anakin."
The dark creature hated her associating him with the intense young man who was her husband. But just this once he didn't want to wait until they were alone. His arms encircled her and pulled her gently into him. Not minding the handmaiden. Not minding his body. Not even minding the little toys that came to settle by a disappointed Luke and Leia.
Just holding Padmé. Soothing her.
He couldn't bear to let her out of his sight. Knowing what people had tried to do to her in the past. Knowing the destructive horror he was capable of when she was threatened. For his own sanity he needed to be with her. At her side and ready to defend her. Even if he and his lungs wasn't yet fully restored.
"I can't wait three years and hope no one tries to hurt you."
He wished he could turn his head, just a little. To press his cheek to hers. Or whisper intimately into her ear. Tuck her head beneath his chin and reassure her even. Instead he had to settle for sounding like a dictatorial droid just at the point Padmé was emotionally unstable.
A groan of repressed anger threatened to emerge but he suppressed it. Struggling to keep his focus on her. How beautiful and vulnerable she could be when they were together.
His fingers instead stroked softly at the middle of her back until she pulled away. Looked him directly in the eye as if assessing something. Even though he knew she couldn't see his eyes as he could see hers.
You have to let me come with you he silently pleaded.
"Alright," she conceded.
For a brief moment she leant into his shoulder once more, an intimate touch between separated husband and wife. Waiting for a moment until his hand brushed against her spine, quietly confirming their agreement before she let him go. She left it at that and disappeared from her family's view to manoeuvre into her gown for this evening.
Padmé nodded politely as the next dignitary stepped forward. The last one to enter the grand reception and wasn't he glad about that. The man took up her hand and gently kissed the back of it. Making Anakin's skin crawl. He almost shuddered physically, and it took all his effort to keep still, to remain behind her and pretend nothing was wrong. From where he stood he could almost see that polite smile that surely remained on her beautiful lips.
This was what he hated more than anything. This was why she didn't want him to come. Because he was standing behind her seething as he hadn't done since Palpatine was alive. He knew his beloved could feel it without even having to turn around.
That someone else could touch her, could almost think he would be able to court her, irked Anakin. He was Padmé's husband before anything else, yet he had to wait here and just watch. As if from afar, with no power to intervene.
"Would you do me the honour of dancing with me, m'lady?" the Prince of a nothing world invited Padmé.
Anakin knew the moment the invitation had been issued she couldn't refuse. There were a dozen holonet cameras pointed at her and a galaxy watching. Needing to know that their beautiful co-chancellor wasn't heartless and aloof like Palpatine had been. His heart sunk as he felt her mind travelling the same road. Felt her hesitance but knew that it meant nothing. She had to do it. And he had to watch her.
Trapped in his own uncomfortable world of darkness he watched the woman he loved place her hand into another man's. She turned and shot Anakin a quick glance but nothing more. And it made him want to cry out in despair. This wasn't how it was supposed to be – when you were married the jealousy was supposed to disappear. Take the torment with it and leave you with one person to love and trust with your heart.
He watched that useless man slip his arm around Padmé as if she might fall in love with him, if only he could touch her in the right place. He closed his eyes, not able to bare it as he stood there, head of her security team, and did nothing. Just waited patiently for the chance to dismember anyone who tried to attack her. While she whirled around the packed dance floor of glittering couples, smiling at her companion. His heart longed to go to her. To do it himself. To press Padmé, the person he'd given his life to, whose babies he shared, into his chest and lose himself in her sparkling eyes.
Not stand on the sidelines and watch.
Of course I could do something.
A small grin quirked his lips for the first time that evening. Quietly he reached into the force and sent a shiver of awareness over her cheek. Like the faint brush of kiss he would place on the soft skin now, if only he weren't confined to this prison of his own making. And as he stretched out for her he felt his longing echo back. Padmé's wish to be laughing with him, swirling around in his arms was strong and it went a little way to calming his fears.
She turned briefly and shot him a smile. A private one, easily misinterpreted as a co-chancellor having fun. But Anakin knew and it lightened his dull evening like she would never believe.
Until the slime slipped his hand into the small of Padmé's back and pulled her a little closer. Like only husbands should do.
Yet all Padmé's husband could do was stand there and seethe. And delay his expression of normal human emotions until many more hours had passed. Hours in which people could claim her attention, laugh, jest, even flirt with her while he stood like a silent droid in the background. Separated from it all.
"You shouldn't feel threatened Anakin," Padmé quietly told her husband.
Their transport lifted from the shuttle bay once they were safely onboard and started towards their home. But one of the occupants was even more silent than usual. And that worried her. She peered through the small opening to glance at their driver and extra guard, confirming that they both had their eyes firmly on the traffic lanes ahead. Not exactly confident that they were in complete privacy, she made the decision that soothing Anakin was more important than being discovered. At this point anyway.
Her fingers reached out and took up his hand. Caressingly the tightly clenched fist with her thumb until it opened up. Since she couldn't see him, and knew he probably wouldn't talk until they were home, she decided to take up a dialogue herself.
"One day, about three years from now," the Chancellor quietly predicted. "You will attend one of these wretched functions with me. But instead of standing behind me and seething when another man has the – audacity – to ask me to dance –"
Padmé temporarily paused as a small smirk danced up on to her lips.
"Instead of just standing there, I suspect you'll just have to look at him and he'll scamper away. Then you can come dance with me instead."
The bodyguard of a man beside her shook his head. She felt like she was insulting him, but tonight had been just as distressing for her. A man – a playboy – had had the impudence to insinuate that she would wish to be in his company and spend the night with him. It had disgusted – humiliated her. And added insult to injury to the already damaged ego of her once arrogantly proud husband who had stood silently by and said nothing.
He completed her like nothing else could and instead of acknowledging that they'd both kept their mouths shut and lived through that experience. It wasn't as if Padmé hadn't another, more pleasant ending for that distasteful scenario in her head.
"You could have done that this evening, if you wanted to," she softly offered. "I would have danced with you."
As predicted Anakin remained silent, but his fingers flexed. Slipped between hers and silently squeezed. And it was a promise she was coming to recognise. Of the words he would say, the emotions he would confess, the touches he would bestow – When we're home.
"Padmé," he quietly greeted.
The hunger couldn't be kept out of his voice as they fell together. His arms threading helplessly around her waist. The soft shift that flowed over her concealed nothing – from his intermittent sight or wandering hands.
Her loving hands cradled his head. Swallowing his kisses. Pressing into him until he fell back on the bed with his eyes fluttering closed.
"My Padmé," he mumbled.
It was hard to talk when her tongue was tangled around his own, but somehow the words managed to slip out anyway. Almost driving out the image from earlier. Of that slime touching his filthy lips against Padmé's wrist.
"I hated standing there watching – that," he told her.
Their lips slipped together again and again. And though he didn't mean to upset her, he had to say it. She had to know how much that had affected him.
But instead of upsetting her, it seemed to fuel her passion. Her fingers grasped strands of his hair and her hips shifted. Her knees parting until she straddled him.
Anakin groaned uncontrollably as his shaft brushed against her. Discovering that once again his hot, sexy wife was all alone with him. And she wasn't wearing underwear.
The rigidly thick shaft of her husband's want pressed against her. Sparking her hunger in a way no other man ever could.
"Oh Anakin," she whimpered.
Reaching down she hurriedly clasped his throbbing spear. His arms tightened around her, open palms pressing at her shoulder blades and coaxing her back into his chest.
"Please," he quietly groaned.
Their mouths joined once more. Parting only once so Padmé could torturously ask him
She couldn't hold back a smile as he tentatively brushed his tongue around the outside of her lips. Making a non-verbal reply his cock was already pounding out for him.
"Mmmm, My Anakin."
She lifted her hips for a moment – ass pointing up deliciously into the air behind her so Anakin could see. Her eyes followed his gaze, knowing she was tempting him. Feeling powerful as his hands followed, clasping her round cheeks and barely caressing the exposed middle.
His weeping manhood begged for attention as it continued to brush against her. Padmé's eyes closed for a moment, surrendering to the feeling of that silky yet angry thickness demanding notice. It brushed against her lower lips, begging her to open and fulfil him. Finally she couldn't take it anymore – her need was too great and his desire was clearly scrawled across his agonised features. Before he could beg she finally swallowed up his throbbing shaft. Throwing him back into the sheets just as he was coming up to meet her.
Letting his bulging want disappear with her powerful thrust.
"Is that good Ani?" she purred.
Unable to stop herself she squeezed her liquid thighs together. It made his features screw up, caught somewhere between pleasure and agony. Leaning down she put her lips to his ear, caressing the outer shell with her wet tongue. Then in a quite whisper the words
"What do you want to bet he's the size of a starfighter – small, maneuverable, and able to slip into any opening unnoticed."
Came out of her mouth before she could stop herself.
"Whereas you, my love, make it clear why Jedi shouldn't have wives."
Anakin didn't have enough working brain cells to stop and question her curious her words.
"You've got a cock the size of a star destroyer. Enormous. Forcing everyone to bend to its will. And able to thrust through any defence… Oh! Ah – AHH! Anakin! Baby! You're splitting me open!"
She pulled away and looked him in the eye. Her dirty words now flowing out in a steady stream as his length was showered with all the pleasure she could give it.
"Oh that's right. Give me all that Jedi cock," she encouraged.
Watching as his metallic finger stroked hesitantly down her stomach. Trying to distract her.
"Stop it," he quietly begged but she didn't gratify him.
"Oh I can't, you know I can't think when you're hard."
His fingers brushed against her ass, presumably hoping to disgust her just enough to dampen her burning blaze of need into a manageable fire.
Instead she captured his wandering hand and pressed it against her tight asshole.
"Don't tease Anakin."
She quieted down for a few moments, giving him time to think it had passed. Feeling his climax approaching as he hardened further.
"Maybe I'll wake up to find you…"
She licked the vulnerable corner of his mouth. The husband moaned unintelligibly. Thrusting his hips up demandingly.
She watched his eyes stray down, noting her swollen breasts swaying temptingly. The hard nipples jutting out, demanding a mouth suckle them. She touched her finger to his mouth, allowing his wet tongue to lick it then dragging it across her sensitive nubs. Not having to look down to feel the milk trickle.
"Please," she quietly implored.
Anakin's mouth had latched on in a second. His hand splaying across her shoulder blades and pulling her in closer. Just as his thumb slipped down from her belly button. To press at her raw nub.
Padmé choked on the sensation. Her position of power seceded to her youthful lover as his fingers played her deftly. Drawing her desire out of her in a wet rush of heat that slipped between the harsh dragging of his rigid metal fingers. Small droplets of liquid were lapped up by his rapacious tongue. As they fell from soft peaks topping off heavy round bulges that tended to his every need.
Even as she got lost to everything but his eyes looking up at her, she looked after him. Her body's tender opening welcomed the thick pulsing inside her that was growing every moment. As she gently rode him, he let go her breasts and removed the fingers from her mound. Bringing the glistening digits to his mouth and sucked on them, making sure she watched how he enjoyed the taste of her lust.
Then Anakin put a finger to her lips and looked up into her eyes while their bodies continued to grind together.
"Just tell me that you love me," he quietly begged. "That's all I need."
Padmé looked down into the depths of his deep blue eyes.
"I love you," she freely admitted.
Beneath her his back arched at the simple sound of those words. His shaft springing to attention as she watched a hard orgasm wash over him. Hot seed being drawn out in powerful spurts by her coaxing until she was so flooded with it, the overflow streamed down her open thighs.
As he finished he didn't withdraw. Didn't even soften. Padmé watched in delight as he flipped her onto her back and just kept going. Pumping her soft folds with the abundance of his thickness.