InsaneJournal

Who: Anakin and Padmé
What: Post ~Everything~, talking about glow-y things
When: Friday late night
Where: Some hotel in the city; far, far away from anything that could possibly interrupt them
Rating/Warnings: Look, it’s post-sex, they’re naked, expect things of a sexual nature
Status: In progress/Closed


Padmé was lying next to him, her arm draped across his chest, her head on his shoulder. Her hair was tickling his nose, but he didn’t care. Lazily, he brushed his thumb along her arm, but aside from that, and the slow, rhythmic rise and fall of his chest from breathing, he wouldn’t have moved for anything short of a life and death emergency. Everything was buffered in a golden sensation he couldn’t separate from sight or sound or touch, but why the kriff should he?

He couldn’t imagine being happier than he was in this moment, evidenced by the dopey grin fixed on his face in a way that suggested it was now a permanent feature. His mind was idly formulating plans of lying in this glowing, weightless, soft place with Padmé for the rest of eternity, working out how they could make this a reality for the rest of forever. It could work, dammit. All things were possible bathed in that optimistic radiance post sex. Even silly things.

“Iloveyou,” he mumbled into the top of Padmé’s head, dropping a kiss to clarify the words he mushed unintelligibly together. Anakin was also categorically incoherent and dazed, two things incongruous with Jedi-ness. As clichés went, if Anakin died right now he would die a ridiculously happy man, and to hell with whatever anyone thought about that.