A/N: So, I've been a bit carried away with other stories as of late, and I kinda forgot that I needed to update this (oooops) so I'm sorry that I made you wait so long for this greatly anticipated chapter. I'm only human :) I hope you enjoy this! This story is winding down soon, only a few more chapters to go before it's finished, but I want to thank you all for the support so far. It's been amazing.

Happy reading :)

Anakin Skywalker has always had a flare for dramatics, and so, when the wedding ceremony finishes, he takes the opportunity to sweep his bride, his new wife, his angel, into his arms, cradling her as she wraps her hands around his neck, and carries her inside from the terrace overlooking Lake Varykino where their wedding ceremony took place and up the grand staircase to the master suite and her bedchamber. Padmé giggles softly in his ear, her warm breath teasing his skin, and he can't resist bending his neck to kiss her inviting lips whilst they walk. The fact that he can do this, without feeling guilty or like it's wrong, is wonderful in itself, and something he feels he'll never grow tired of. Anakin knows, he is certain, that he is the happiest man in the entire galaxy in this moment.

Once they reach her bedchamber and he shuts and locks the door behind him with the Force, a soft smile graces his face. The bed is beautifully arranged with petals of fragrant Nubian lilies scattered across the indigo bedspread, and sweetly scented lit candles are placed around the room, the flickering flames dancing in the early evening breeze, setting a romantic ambiance for the two newlyweds on their wedding night. The work of her handmaidens, Anakin is positive, and he appreciates the small, kind gesture. His wife(oh, how wondrous it feels to call her that) seems to agree, for she releases a small, surprised gasp, and her eyes brim with tears at the sight.

"Oh my," she whispers just as Anakin sets her down on her feet, bringing her hand up to her mouth. "Ani, it's so beautiful."

He chuckles softly and steps up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and nuzzling into her neck. "Not as beautiful as you, my love," he breathes softly against her skin, splaying his hands around her tiny waist, and she leans back against his chest, turning her head to press a gentle kiss just below his ear. It sends chills quivering down his spine.

"Master Jedi, are you trying to seduce me?" she asks, her voice low and sultry, one eyebrow quirked in amusement, her eyes twinkling in the candlelight.

Another low laugh rumbles deep in his chest, and he grins at her, impishly. "I think I've already done that, milady."

She hums and turns in his arms, snaking her hands up around his neck, one finger twirling his Padawan braid idly. "You have, have you?" Her beautiful brown eyes flash with mirth.

Anakin winks at her, a smirk curling his lips. "Absolutely. How else would I have convinced a brilliant Galactic Senator such as yourself to marry me?"

Padmé bites her lip and pretends to be deep in thought for just a moment, before mock-gasping and bringing a hand to her chest. "Oh, you're right! I've been deceived! I should call for my guards to have you arrested for tricking me!"

With a wolfish grin, Anakin bends his head slightly to rest his forehead against hers. "Or, you could always arrest me yourself, milady," he murmurs softly, voice rough and hoarse with longing. "If it pleases you."

"It would, indeed," she replies, before yanking hard on his braid, forcing his lips to crash onto hers.

Their mouths fuse together passionately, lips and tongues conveying the desire that sizzles between them, and Anakin slides his flesh hand up her spine and under her veil to tangle in her chestnut curls, before cupping the nape of her neck, causing her head to tilt back and allow him more access to her delicious mouth. She releases this soft little moan as he deepens the kiss, and it sends bolts of desire shooting down his body, right to his groin. He can't believe that this is real…it still feels like a dream somehow. But, it's not. Padmé is his wife, in every sense of the word, and it fills him with such immense pride, it surges through his entire body.

"I love you, wife of mine," he tells her, eyes misted over with complete infatuation, as he thumbs at her regal cheekbones, tracing his metal thumb delicately over the tiny freckle in the centre of her cheek.

She smiles radiantly up at him, and Anakin can feel her love and devotion to him seeping out through her Force signature – she's practically shining with it. "I love you, my dear husband," she giggles happily, a delicate blush colouring her cheeks, and Anakin feels a great sense of deep masculine satisfaction to know that he is the cause of such a beautiful reaction.

Husband. Yes, he is her husband. And, she is his wife. To hear her address him as such, without any hesitation, sends tendrils of intense pleasure coursing wildly through his blood. His response is to burrow his nose into the side of her neck and wrap his arms tightly around her as he tries to supress his overjoyed laughter, and instead, focuses on the delicate floral scent of her perfume, a smell he's come to familiarize himself with over their time together. Her own silvery laughter joins his as she clutches at his broad muscled shoulders, and for a moment, the newlyweds simply hold each other, basking in their incredible love.

"Ani…" Padmé strokes the back of his head, encouraging him to lift and meet her gaze, which he does immediately, as he would do anything for her. For his wife.

"Yes, my love," he answers her call, gently brushing his nose along the dainty slope of hers.

She is silent for a moment, her bottom lip catches between her teeth, as her fingers fiddle with the collar of his black Jedi robes. Anakin reaches out with the Force in an attempt to discover what is troubling her, but he stops when she bends her head back to look up at him, a shy – yet determined – glint in her eyes. Fluttering her eyelids, she curves her lips into a smirk. "I think we are wearing far too much clothing for our wedding night, don't you?"

At her words, and the suggestive undertones laced within them, Anakin feels himself instantly harden in his pants, and he swallows thickly as a surge of arousal shoots straight to his groin. She wants to make love with him, again. Of course, Anakin wants this as well. Now that he's had her, felt what it's like to be inside her, at one with her, surrounded and embraced by her silky wet warmth, he's thought of little else all day. Force! He wants to make love to her every minute of every day for the rest of his life, if only it's possible, but the knowledge that she wants that, too...well, it's almost too much for him.

"You're right," he grins excitedly, and then his trembling, nervous hands are on her body, unsure of what he's doing, but determined to remove her wedding gown from her tiny frame. As beautiful as it is, it's concealing her glorious body from his eager gaze, and he wants to see her, truly see her, to worship her in a way no other man ever has, and to lavish such worship on her flawless, ivory skin. He wants to bring her to the highest heights of pleasure, and he is determined to do so.

Just when he makes some headway with her veil, delicately unfastening it from her hair and tossing it to the floor, freeing her luxurious, chestnut curls, her tiny hands close around his wrists and still his movements. "No," she orders, softly, yet firmly, with all the authority of a Galactic Senator, and so he does what he's told.

"What is it, Angel?" he asks, a frown of concern on his face as he rubs his thumbs against her knuckles. Has she changed her mind? Does she regret this, marrying him? He can't bear the thought of her rejecting him now, he's in so deep, loves her so much. It would break him. "Did I do something wrong?"

Instantly, she shakes her head, a blindingly beautiful smile on her face, and she giggles and stretches up on her toes to peck his lips fleetingly. "Of course not, Ani," she assures him, sweetly. "I just…I want to – " her voice breaks off with obvious embarrassment, as she begins to untie the sash around his waist, before peeling his robes off of his shoulders. It's then that Anakin understands. She wants to undress him, and Force if he's going to stop her.

He smiles down at her as she drops his robes to the floor, before pushing his tunic up his chest, yanking on it, and he bends and lifts his arms so she can take it off properly. It joins the rest of his clothes on the floor in a manner of seconds. Once his chest is bare before her, he is subjected to an onslaught of feather-light touches from her fingertips as she explores him, tracing over every ridge of his abdomen, the sensitive peaks of his nipples, the firm chiselled muscles of his pectorals and along the sharp angle of his collarbone. He closes his eyes at her touch and releases a shaky exhale. There is nothing that can compare to Padmé's gentle touch on his skin. It sets his nerves alight. The sensations are only enhanced when she presses her lips just over his pounding heart, causing his stomach to flip and flutter nervously.

She skims her hands up his chest to caress the nape of his neck, and her lips follow the path wetly, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Once they're at his ear, she flicks her tongue out, licking at his earlobe gently in a way that causes his cock to twitch in his pants. They're not even naked, and he's barely touched her, and yet he's already semi-hard. It's incredible, the sheer power she holds over him. "Take off your boots, my love," she instructs in a velvety smooth purr, and Anakin would be a fool not to obey her request. He instantly bends down and hurriedly kicks his boots off – they land somewhere on the other edge of the room, not that he really pays attention – and then Padmé smiles up at him and, once more, dances her fingertips down his chest, following the trail of fine blonde hair extending below his navel to land on the waistband of his pants.

Anakin's breath hitches in his throat as she deftly undoes the laces of his pants before bending and shuffling them down his lean hips. She giggles a little as she notices how hard he is already, and he flushes in embarrassment, his cheeks growing hot. It must be so ridiculous to her, having married a man so young, so inexperienced, and he feels slightly ashamed by how easily his body responds to her. Yet, she makes no comment and simply continues to pull his pants down his long legs and tossing them aside to join the rest of his clothes. As she stands back up, she subtly grazes her nails over the straining length of him, and he groans in spite of himself. He opens his eyes slowly and blinks down at her, catching the way she's grinning cheekily up at him, and he lets his fingers card through her undone hair.

"Padmé…" he says, a smirk upon his lips, his mechanical hand resting on her waist. "This is a little unfair, Angel. Why am I the only one undressed?"

She rests her hands on his shoulders and smiles broadly up at him. "Are you asking to take my clothes off, Master Jedi?" she batts her eyelids at him coyly.

"That's exactly what I'm asking, milady."

Tittering, she steps out of his arms and turns around, lifting the back of her hair and pulling it over to one side. She turns her head just a little to look at him over her shoulder and whispers, "Well, what are you waiting for?"

Stepping eagerly up behind her, Anakin instantly begins working open the small, delicate buttons of her gown with slow precision, taking his time, gently grazing the exposed expanse of skin with his fingertips, sending shivers down her spine. Each time he feeds a button through the loop, more of her elegant back is revealed to him, and the anticipation only heightens his raw need for her. Once he reaches the last button at the base of her spine, he pauses just for a moment and inhales deeply, before rubbing both hands delicately up her spine and across her shoulders and taking the top of her dress and gently pushing it forward off her shoulders. Padmé takes her arms out of the sleeves and lets the fabric pool at her hips, and Anakin can't resist leaning forward and brushing his lips across the exposed nape of her neck.

Her skin reacts instantly under his soft touch as another shudder wracks through her, and he smiles against her skin, before kissing a line down the ridges of her spine until he's kneeling behind her. Running his hands gently up and down her sides, he rests his head against the small of her back and exhales a shaky, nervous breath. Of course, he's already had the luxury of seeing her bare before him, but there's something so different, so intimate, about doing it himself, about undressing her like this. He wants to savour the moment.

His wife, however, is impatient and releases a soft sigh of, "Anakin…" which makes him grin stupidly, because she wants him. It strokes his proud male ego.

"Impatient, aren't we?" he teases her, making her squirm and huff before him.

And then, she says the most arousing thing he's ever heard in his life. "I want you, Ani." It's soft and timid and shy, and yet it stirs the most powerful of reactions inside him. In response, he grips the sides of her gown and deftly slides it down the supple curves of her hips until it pools at her feet in a swish of expensive silk. He takes a moment to admire the perfectly formed curves of her backside and her shapely, slender legs, before he stands back up and takes her in his arms, pressing himself flush against her and nuzzling into her neck.

A low, sensual chuckle reverberates from her body to his as she feels the prominent evidence of his need pressing against her back, and she turns once more in his arms and rests her hands on his lean hips. Sneaking a glance between them, Anakin bites his lip at the sight of his rigid, straining length jutting out against her stomach, he is incredibly ashamed by his body's reactions to her. But Padmé, it seems, is far from embarrassed, as she follows his gaze and smiles, cocking her head to the side just a little. "It seems you want me too, my love," she observes, and then wraps her warm hand around him, making him thrust unconsciously into her touch.

"Padmé…" he issues a low moan, and his eyes flutter closed. Just the feel of her small, warm hand around him is enough for him to throb and twitch, already leaking for her. She laughs huskily and slowly stokes him, making him weak at the knees. He's not good with self-control – not yet – and she's going to make him release too soon… before he's even inside her. He can't let that happen. It's their wedding night! He needs to be able to last! "P-please…" he begs her, voice thick and strained with desire. "I can't…won't be able to…" His legs shaking, knees feeling weak from the effort of holding back, he braces his legs apart and places his hands on her shoulders to steady himself.

But, his wife ignores him. "Shhhh," she soothes him softly. "Trust me, Ani." She kisses him sweetly, first on his lips, and then down, down his neck, down his chest and abdomen, following the line of blonde hair that leads to his groin, all the while continuing her slow, exquisite torture along his length with her skilful hand. By this stage, he's a quivering mess. When she skims her nose over his short, blonde nest of curls, inhaling his masculine scent deeply, he almost loses it, and has to bite down on his lip hard enough to draw blood, to keep his control. It doesn't, however, stop the low rumbling groan he emits from echoing loudly into the dusk.

Then, he feels the most delicious, incredible sensation he's ever felt in his entire life. Warmth. Wetness. Right there on his swollen weeping head, and he snaps his eyes open in surprise and looks down to see the most arousing sight he's ever witnessed. Padmé, on her knees in front of him, lapping at his throbbing erection with her little pink tongue. "Oh, Force," he curses, his flesh hand automatically flying into her hair against his will, tangling itself in her curls.

Padmé hums against him, making him buck his hips, seeking his release. He's not sure what he wants, but he needs something...friction, suction, anything. What is she doing to him? Is she trying to kill him? He's barely containing himself, trying so fucking hard not to release himself all over her angelic face, but she's not making it easy for him. Anakin is only nineteen, and until yesterday, was a virgin, whose only previous relief came from his own hand. But, her hand and her mouth are so much better than anything he could ever do himself. He's seconds away from coming undone.

"P-P…" he stutters incoherently, head thrown back, eyes once again closed, fingers tangled in her chestnut tresses, unable to even speak her name, because he feels it. It's coming, and he can't stop it. Her mouth. She's put her lips around him, and he's flying…he's left the ground, no longer in control of his own body. She suckles his head with firm pressure, her tongue flicking rapidly across the sensitive tip, causing him to begin bucking his hips into her mouth, and he feels his balls tighten and rise up, and suddenly, he shudders and lets out a deep, masculine roar as white hot pleasure surges through 's coming, then, fast, hard, wave after wave, and he doesn't even have the awareness to be embarrassed by it, because he's too absorbed in the intense pleasure coursing through him. His legs shake, his buttocks clench, and he rolls his head side to side, eyes fluttering madly beneath his closed lids, and he almost blacks out for a few seconds. It's glorious!

When he eventually comes to, he suddenly freezes in terror and hurriedly glances down at the angel kneeling between his legs, mortified at what he's just done. "Padmé… I'm so – " he goes to say, cheeks flushing red, when he sees her smiling up at him with dark, lusty eyes, her tongue flicking out to lick around the edges of her mouth, all the while keeping her eyes locked on his. At first, he wonders what happened, how she managed to clean herself up so quickly, until it hits him as to what's occurred. She swallowed him!

Anakin can't believe it. All he can do is stare down at her with wide, awed eyes, his mouth slightly open. The knowledge that she drank his seed…willingly, wantonly… is so completely erotic to him, that his limp cock twitches just a little, resurrecting itself. "You...you just...?"

Padmé nods her head shyly and tucks a lock of her hair behind her ear. "You don't taste as bad as I thought you would, Ani," she informs him, matter-of-factly, and it's too much for him.

He lifts her up none-to-gently and crushes his mouth against hers, expressing what he's feeling physically as he's unable to explain it verbally. While he devours her mouth with lust-fuelled passion, his hands wander down to cup her backside, lifting and hauling her up into his arms. Her legs come up to wrap around his waist, and her hands clasp the back of his head as he mates his starving tongue with hers. "You're… beyond… extraordinary…" he praises her through messy kisses. "I… love… you…," and her response is to mewl and whimper into his mouth as he walks them back towards the bed.

Without breaking their kiss, Anakin lays her down in the middle of the bed and crawls on top of her, hands exploring every exposed inch of her silken skin. He wants to make her feel how she's just made him feel… weightless with esctatic pleasure. All former trepidation has left him, replaced with ravenous hunger to taste her, and he does just that, sliding his lips down her neck to nip and suck and mark the slender column of her throat as his flesh and cups her left breast through her lacy bra, thumbing the puckered peak. A predatory animalistic rumble issues forth from his parted lips, his eyes almost black with desire, and he leans over her, reaching beneath her with his hands to unclasp her strapless bra. Peeling it gently away from her heaving bosom, he tosses it over his shoulder. He takes her hardened nipple between his thumb and forefinger and pinches it sharply, making her gasp and arch into his hand, her back bowing elegantly off the bed, eager for more of his touch. Scraping his teeth along the angle of her collarbone, he quickly bends his neck to capture her neglected nipple, suckling on it fervently, eliciting more of those high, feminine gasps from her pretty, kiss-swollen lips. Anakin loves it… loves that he - and only he- is the cause of such heights of pleasure, that she is writhing on the bed because of him. He will risk his life every day to make her cry out his name like this, he swears it.

Deciding to throw caution to wind, for Padmé certainly held back nothing, he continues to massage and suckle her breasts and nipples, while reaching out with the Force to slide her lace panties down her supple legs and ankles, mentally tossing them across the room, before slowly sliding his prosthetic hand down the flat plane of her belly, through the downy thatch of curls between her legs and then rubs gently against her slick, feminine folds, nudging her engorged clit. She shudders in his arms and squeals, her eyes fluttering open at the new sensation. "Oh!" she gasps, staring at him with misty eyes through half-hooded lids. "That's…so cold…"

He pauses, yet doesn't remove his fingers and props himself up on his opposite elbow, staring down at her. "Is it bad?"

She shakes her head and widens her legs underneath him. "N-no… it – it feels so good, Ani," she whispers. "Don't…don't stop!"

Grinning proudly, he ducks his head to capture her mouth in a ravishing kiss and continues to rub her clit, while his flesh hand manipulates her sensitive nipples. With careful exploration, he finds her opening and teases her gently with his index finger, making her moan and undulate her hips into his touch.

"Please!" she begs, breathlessly, gripping his shoulders harshly, nails digging into his skin.

"Please, what?" he asks, blowing hot air over her face. Her responses to his ministrations have made him grow bold and confident, and he decides to take it in his stride. "What do you want, my angel?"

She bites down hard on her lip, a deep crimson flush rising in her cheeks and down her neck. "You, Anakin…" she mutters in embarrassment. "I want you… inside me…"

Hearing her say those words makes his semi-hard cock spring to life again, and he kisses her deeply, tongue licking into her mouth and obliges her wanton request. As soon as he slides one long, cold metal finger inside her hot, velvet heat, she exhales and closes her eyes, bucking her hips to encourage him to move. So, move he does. Keeping his flesh hand on her left breast, pinching and tweaking her nipple, he licks at her navel and continues to pump his finger in and out of her, relishing in the erotic sounds she's making. At her aggressive insistence of, "More, Ani," he quickly adds another finger and reaches out with the Force, letting her sensations wash over him, guiding him with what she wants, what she so desperately desires yet can't articulate. When he curls his fingers against the sensitive, spongy slickness of her sweet spot, she all but falls apart then and there, biting down hard on her lip and arching her back once more, soft grunts of pleasure escaping her. He strokes her gently there, coaxing her closer and closer to her approaching orgasm, then bends and sucks hard on her nipple, just as he presses down firmly on her clit, circling her tip with his metal thumb.

With a sharp cry, she comes undone, her walls spasming and fluttering around his fingers, coating them in her arousal, and he simply sits up and watches her. She's so beautiful, the way her eyes flicker madly beneath her closed lips, the way her red lips are parted, the way her luxurious chestnut hair spills out all around her, her legs shaking as waves of pleasure wash over her, the way her back is arched off the bed...it's a wonder she's not hit the ceiling with the force of her orgasm. And it's all because of him.

It's several moments before she relaxes, and she slumps back onto the mattress and opens her eyes, grinning lazily up at him. Her hand comes up to stroke his jaw fondly, and she brings him down to her mouth, their lips and tongues mating languidly, intimately, conveying the love they feel for each other. It's not long, however, until their kiss becomes more heated. If Anakin had thought that giving his wife such an intense orgasm would satisfy her, he is wrong. If anything, it's only made her hungrier for him. She pants and mewls into his mouth as her hands skim down his spine to fill with the firm, smooth muscles of his buttocks, and she kneads the flesh gently and splays her legs wider underneath him. "Ani…" she calls him name softly and reaches down to grip the base of his once-again hard cock, guiding him towards her slick entrance. He instinctively grinds himself along her wetness, closing his eyes at the delightful sensation. "I need you, my love."

Her words spur him on, but he hesitates and peers down at her, concern crossing his expression. He doesn't want to hurt her again. Not like last time. He couldn't bear to cause her pain, not again. She deserves perfection. Anakin cups her beautiful face in his hands and rubs his thumb against her bruised lips, swollen from his kisses. "I'll hurt you, Padmé," he confesses, shamefully. "I don't want to hurt you again."

Tears prick at her eyes, and suddenly, she is kissing him again, fiercely, desperately, clutching his face with such unbridled passion that Anakin can't help but dissolve into it. She tends to have that affect on him, can make all his worries disappear with just the smallest touch. "Oh, Anakin," she sobs into his mouth. "You won't…" She pulls back and blinks up at him, her gorgeous brown eyes clouded with lust and adoration. "You won't hurt me, Ani. I promise. I'm ready. I want you…I need you… I need to feel you inside me, again."

She's so confident and sure, but still, Anakin is hesitant. He plays with her hair absently and bends to press his forehead against hers, never taking his eyes off hers for a second. "Are you sure?" he asks. Just this morning, she was still sore and tender from their lovemaking the night before, and he wants to make sure that she is fully ready for this.

"Yes," Padmé nods her head and stretches out her neck to gently brush her lips to his. "I want you, Anakin."

"Oh – okay," he mutters and takes her bottom lip between his own, as he braces himself between her thighs and he slowly eases himself inside her. He has to stop when he's about halfway in, because her deliciously tight, wet heat is just too much for him, and he needs to compose himself if he's going to last longer than ten seconds. Exhaling deeply, he closes his eyes in concentration and inches slowly forward, further inside her welcoming walls until his hips are pressed right up against hers. Padmé strokes his hair softly, tugging on his padawan braid, whispering to him sweetly, encouraging him to move inside her, and so he does. The slick friction is overwhelming, she feels like nothing else. He would stay buried deep inside her forever if it was physically possible, and he never wants to leave.

Padmé is breathing heavily beneath him, and he halts his slow thrusts to peer down at her and make sure she's okay. "Is this… is this alright?" he asks seriously.

With her eyes still closed, she slowly nods her head. "Y-yeah…" she whispers softly. "You feel good inside me, now… so good, Ani." A pleased smile breaks across his lips at her praise.

Kissing her gently, he resumes his movements, taking his sweet time, letting her feel every inch of him, as he is feeling every inch of her in return. There's no rush…it's their wedding night. They have all the time in the universe, and Anakin plans on using it. Padmé talks to him the entire time in hushed whispers, praising him, telling him how good he feels, how good he's making her feel, how happy she is and how much she loves him, and it only increases Anakin's own pleasure, but he does his best to hold back, for her sake. All he wants is to please her, and if that means postponing his own release for hers, then he'll do it, again and again and again until she's satisfied. He loves her.

She gently tugs on his braid again and pulls him down so his face his buried in the side of her neck, and she turns her head to press a line of sweet kisses under the base of his ear, as her fingers dance whisper soft touches over his shoulders, upper arms, and back. Anakin enjoys those touches just as much as he enjoys being inside her, it's a physical affirmation of her love for him.

"Padmé…" he murmurs her name, muffled against her hair as he unconsciously increases the depth and power of his thrusts, driving into her slick core with more force as his arousal sparks once more, the pleasure slowly building inside him. She grips his shoulders tightly and brings her legs up to wrap around his waist, her heels digging into his clenching buttocks as he moves inside her, grunting into her skin. "So good… ugh...so tight…mine...love you."

"Yeah, Ani…" she replies airily, her voice quivering with lust. "Yours." His fists clench into the sheets, his elbows braced beside her head as he thrusts harder, deeper, until she suddenly cries out with sheer pleasure – he can feel it projecting out of her Force signature so brightly. Yes! He's found it, her sweet spot, and he grins with supreme satisfaction, as he continues to nudge her there with the head of his cock, making her gasp and moan and all but sob in ecstasy, as she throws her head back and arches off the bed, thrusting her puckered nipples against his chest. Each time he thrusts, her walls constrict tightly around him, causing him to shudder above her.

"Harder, Ani… harder," she begs him, and if he had any qualms about hurting her before, they're tossed aside, as he does as she asks, snapping his hips forward sharply, the slick sound of their skin slapping together on each thrust filling the air. They're both panting and groaning, each covered in sweat, as the pleasure and pressure continues to build, and Anakin can't help but dip once more into her Force signature and surround himself in her fully, bask in her euphoria. It's electrifying, and he's the cause of such intense emotions.

Suddenly, it all becomes too much for him, and he can't hold back anymore. His thrusts become wilder, as he slams his hips forward again and again, pinning her to the bed beneath him, and he groans lowly in her ear as he chases his own release, bringing Padmé with him. Her own breathy cries join his as she undulates her own hips to meet him halfway. Anakin is so close, he can feel it, but he doesn't want to let go until Padmé does, so he decides to raise the stakes. Removing his metal hand from beside her head, he once more plunges between her legs and rubs furious circles on her sensitive clit, just above where they're joined. Her slickness coats his fingers, and the cool metal makes her issue his name loudly into the early evening. He continues to manipulate her, all the while pressing his cock repeatedly against her sweet spot, and it's not long before she seizes up, her body tensing and arching off the bed, and she moans, a long, drawn out cry of his name shatters the stillness of the night.

The mad fluttering of her walls around his hard throbbing cock is all he needs to burst forth inside her with a violent eruption of his essence, accompanied by a deep masculine roar, his hips surging forward, tight and flush against hers with each ejaculation, as he coats her womanhood with his seed, a huge shudder trembling along his spine. She milks him gently, until he is completely spent, and then he pulls out of her and rolls off to the side, pulling her with him so that she's curled into his chest. They lay there, sated, chests heaving, bodies cooling, coming down slowly from their shared bliss. The scent of their love permeates the air, mingling with the floral scent of the candles, and another rumble of satisfaction crosses Anakin lips, as he curls his wife tighter against him, and turns his head to softly kiss her upturned lips.

Padmé giggles, blushing prettily, and beams up at him with misty eyes. If Anakin thought she'd looked beautiful during their wedding ceremony, he was wrong. Never has she looked more beautiful than right now, happy and sated and blissfully content in his arms. He strokes her chestnut hair affectionately, letting his fingers tangle in her sweat-dampened curls and presses his lips gently between her brows.

"What are you thinking, Ani?" she asks softly, her hands coming up to cup his cheeks.

He smiles down at her. "How lucky I am to have married you," he replies as earnestly as possible.

"No," she shakes her head. "It is I who is the lucky one, Anakin."

Her response makes him laugh, uninhibited and joyful. His wife is so stubborn. It's one of the qualities he loves most about her. Bending his neck, he brushes his lips against her cheek. "Are you going to argue with me for the rest of our married life, beloved wife of mine?"

Smirking, she chuckles. "Only when you are wrong, dear husband."

Anakin kisses her then, cupping the back of her neck to bring her closer to his searching mouth. It's a slow kiss, full of love and a deep, deep bond to each other, one that transcends all physical desires. For their love is something far purer than that of lust or want. It just simply is. When they break apart, he takes her face in his hands and simply looks at her, at his wife, at how beautiful and wonderful she is. His angel.

"Can we agree to disagree, at least?" he teases, raising an eyebrow, with a cocky half smirk on his face.

Mirth dancing in her brown eyes, she grins at him. "Yes, I think we can."

They go to embrace once more, when Padmé suddenly pushes him onto his back, so that she is sitting on his stomach. Anakin makes a small grunt of surprise at the action, at her boldness and rests his hands on the slender dip of her tiny waist. She's so gorgeous from this angle, her hair trickling down her back and over her shoulders, her perfect pert breasts bobbing gently with her every breath, the sharp glint of desire in her eyes. She bends over him, her hair fanning out like a velvet drape around his face and nips his bottom lip with her teeth.

"I think I know something we can both agree on, my love."

Anakin runs his flesh hand up and down the ridges of her spine, an amused grin on his face at his wife's sudden determination. "Mmm? And, what's that?"

"That we still have many, many hours left of our wedding night."

Chuckling at how insatiable she is, Anakin tightens his grip on her hip just a little. "Indeed, we do, Angel."

They spent the rest of the night making love to each other until the early hours of the morning, when the sun began to appear above the horizon. Two lovers, chosen for each other and joined together forever by the Force.