Star Wars, Anakin/Padme
Author: shiegra Fandom: Star Wars Pairing: Anakin/Padme Rating: R
March 26: - Star Wars, Anakin/Padme: first time – “We were both ready.”
When he slipped into the house, the lights were down and she was standing by the window. Her hair poured over her shoulders like dark silk, loosed from the elaborate headdresses of her office, and at first glance she looked the picture of composed beauty.
Once you got close, you noticed her white knuckled grip and the wrinkles in her skirt that meant she’d been restlessly fisting and releasing her hands in it. The alcohol in her wine glass was considerably stronger than wine.
“How much of that have you drank?” He murmured from behind her. His breath was hot over her neck and she jumped, flushed and trembling, nearly spilling her drink.
“What?” She looked at him, and then her gaze dropped shyly to the glass as his hand closed over hers to steady it. “Oh...not very much.” A graceful, one shouldered shrug. “You’re early.”
He pulled her deeper into the apartment, pausing to set the glass down on a low table. When he stopped she stumbled—even the little bit had been potent enough to throw off her balance—and he stiffened.
The dress was dark blue and glittered like the night sky, but it was thin linen and every line of her body pressed against his.
When he looked down at her she was staring back, her eyes dark and drowning-deep, pupils dilated. She drew in a shallow breath, shook her head, and lifted the hand he held, capturing his wrist to lean her cheek against his palm.
“Anakin.” She said on a sigh. Her eyes drifted shut a little, almost involuntarily, and she inhaled him, dark male with a hint of sweat and something like spice; the smell of leather and metal overlaying it. When she opened her eyes he was looking back at her and his eyes were wide and bright.
He was a little rough when he kissed her, inexperienced, but she didn’t mind, couldn’t possibly. Her hands clenched on his shoulders, nails digging into the leather, and her body arched into his, his arms locking behind her back with almost involuntary strength, like he was afraid she was going to vanish.
She could have stood there kissing him for much longer, heat carbonating in her belly, his hand spread against the small of her back and branding her through the thin dress. But he was already hard against her, almost vibrating with tension.
Padmé guided them towards the bedroom, away from the open window and the caramel spill of evening light, the journey a little awkward because she was no more eager to release him than he was to let go of her. Halfway there he picked her up and she automatically wrapped her legs around his waist, fabric rucking up around her thighs. He groaned, the sound low and guttural, and dropped his mouth to side of her neck, leaving hot wet kisses down to her collarbone and the rise of her breasts, the hint of teeth making her head fall back with a low moan.
They reached the bed and toppled onto it together, his cloak twisted beneath them; she fisted a hand in her fabric as his mouth closed over her nipple, crying out helplessly and clinging to him.
“Waited—” He rasped softly when he looked up. His eyes were so bright they almost seemed to glow. “So long, Padmé.”
“Shhh.” She drew him up to kiss her again and slid her hands down over his chest, finding buckles and ties, pulling impatiently. “I’m here.” She whispered, pressing against him. “Don’t wait anymore.”