Thread: Queen Takes Knight  (PocketFullOfPosies)

He was weak to her. ...no. No, on a good day he was weak, at a time when he was well rested and mentally prepared. Times like that she still knew how to press all the right buttons, engaging in a game he had to be careful to keep control of. Like this, exhausted, taken by utter surprise by her presence, and suffering from months of emotional and physical need... he was putty in her hands. Part of the Jedi hated himself for that. The rest, right then, simply didn't know how to resist. She would have felt it when she touched him, his Padm, when her fingers danced at his robes. When she pressed her petite, youthful breasts to the stronger man's chest Obi-Wan had not a slight of fight left in him, gripping his beloved nymphet's backside with fervor when she guided his hands to those rounded, firm curves. And then the palm. That evil little palm, responsible for so many sweet, seductive sins, acting as both encouragement and denial between their loins - any lingering thoughts he may have harbored for one final resistance dissipated in that moment, the bearded Jedi's arousal growing to its peak against her slender, delicate fingers. I love you, he whispered hotly, and in bittersweet defeat. The taller man's eyes drifted closed and a hand traced such smooth, flawless skin to grip Padm's thigh, keeping the leg hooked around him. The other was in no way shy in its tight grip upon her firm, supple ass. His Queen's body indeed had its own gravitational pull, the Jedi finding himself leaning... leaning... his back arching, leaning closer with every breath, until his lips latched hungrily to her neck. In that instant it was all over. She had won. Digging his fingers into that perfectly curved cheek, digging his fingers into a thigh which could make even the strongest of men want to fucking sin, Obi-Wan held his young Padm firm to his chest as he lifted her up, and in one hot, lusting movement, turned them around until her back was pressed against the frame of the bathroom's doorway, her legs an inch too short of being allowed the floor. He pinned her. Perhaps too hard, perhaps too eagerly he pinned her, but perhaps too bad. Obi-Wan's hips pressed forward, pressing his hard, aching need into the curve of Her Royal Highness' palm, his loose clothing doing nothing to hide the size and shape she had come to know well over the past two years. And like that he grinded. Lustful. Shameless. He ground his loins against her palm, breathing with desperate need upon her neck. I love you, came the words, a soft pant, I need you, the hand on her teenage ass holding firm, sandwiching her, as if the door frame wasn't enough. I need... you. Quick, lusting kisses devolved into exhales of hot breath against her neck, Obi-Wan's lips parting to rest his teeth against her skin. Wherever you want... whatever you want, he whispered, his mind flashing with the memory of that hot night after he brought her home from the club in a fit of anger. That 'night' had lasted a day and a half, their sweaty bodies entangled for an eternity that had been all too short. Anything... anything... mine... tell me you're mine... Pleading. Desperate. Obi-Wan was putty in her hand in a very literal sense. She could give her lover a sweet giggle, a quick hand release, he knew, and he was so weak for her then that he would take such, and take it gladly. But he wanted more. He needed her love right now. Games could come later, the next morning, when it was once again clear how deep their feelings for one another truly were. My Queen, he whispered, teeth raking passionately up the side of her neck, below her jaw, to just below her ear, his beard brushing against her delicate skin.