Thread: Will (Gwendolyn)

Of course I'm thrilled, he responded quickly, somewhat quizzically, looking to his wife with close-knit brows as she gently guided his chin. But then he had his answer. An answer to a question he didn't need to ask. There was no reprieve from her games, not even on a night so monumental as this. Her sweet voice had turned sharp for all of one word, and in that brief tone Anakin had been trained to pick up on two very precise things - what she wished, and what it meant for him if he didn't. Anakin's eyes drifted closed at this point, defeated, defeated by simply a word. By simply a brief tone. Humiliating. Shameful. Yet he desired her so, desired her endlessy, that when Padme's hand snaked around his neck he felt a shiver course through his body, a knowing reaction of what was to come. When she jerked his head backward, exposing his throat to her smaller form, Anakin did not tense. He didn't very much relax either, but he didn't tense, didn't stiffen, didn't make any move to relieve himself of his doting wife's touch. The only responses he did give were involuntary, in the quickening of his heartbeat when she touched his chest, and the reddening of his face when she whispered upon his ear. I'm not tired, he whispered back, standing there, eyes closed. I'm... I'm not... anything you want, my- He paused. Anakin took a breath. A hand rose to clasp over hers against his chest, slipping his fingers over top and around hers. His mistress? His owner? His goddess? He hated such things, such titles of submission. My wife, he finally completed, reaching his other hand down to take Padme's free one. Perhaps he could talk her into a night of lovemaking rather than one of ego. Perhaps all she wanted was physical interaction. It wasn't often, but it was often enough to be worth a shot. My love, he continued in a tender whisper as he gripped both of her slender, petite hands. My Empress... you deserve the world, and I have given it to you. Countless of them now, in fact. And I would do anything more to make you happy. But before she could request, Anakin slinked down to his knees, down to a kneel before her. Eyes still shut, he guided his wife's hands to his shoulders, his own, now freed, moving to the warmth of her own body. Anakin's palms came together to part the thin, sheer silk of Padme's nightgown, revealing to his touch the perfection he was gifted with night after night. He never once forgot that, due in part to her never letting him. As his palms moved through the opening of her nightgown they came to press flat upon her abdomen, upon her stomach, just below the curve of her feminine bosom. As they spread outward, out against her ribs and around her sides, they were replaced first with the heat of Anakin's breath, followed then by his lips as he leaned in to kiss. I love you, he whispered in a light, hushed tone, kissing his wife's flat stomach in a moment of quiet intimacy. I love you, Padme, he continued, kissing again, sliding his warm palms around her sides, the nightgown brushing open a little more now as he knelt close to her. They continued around to her back, one at the small while the other drifted up, while it traced up the smooth skin of her back to then stretch out his fingers, his touch urging her gently closer, closer as he continued his adoration in the form of loving kisses upon her belly. I want very much to please you, he managed between a set of two kisses, nuzzling his nose into her skin in the meantime. The hand on the small of Padme's back drifted downward, down to hook two fingers within the waistband of her panties, tracing along the upper curve of her backside. Tell me, my wonderful, he continued in a loving tone, hoping to guide her desires to a direction of simple adoration rather than dominance, what can I do for you? Another slow, doting kiss upon her soft belly. What can I do to make you happy? Another kiss, and another movement of his hand sliding up and down the curve of her back, urging her body ever close.