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Anakin's exhaustion evaporated in an instant as he stepped into his quarters, his eyes widening in surprise at the sight before him. Isadora lay on his bed, clad in seductive lingerie, a mischievous glint dancing in her eyes.
His frustration surged back to the forefront of his mind, fueling the fire that burned within him. He crossed his arms over his chest, his expression stern as he regarded her. "No ordinary Master comes home to their Padawan dressed in next to nothing in their bedroom," he remarked, his voice tinged with irritation.
The memory of Isadora's teasing in training earlier only served to stoke the flames of his anger. "What you did in training earlier," he continued, his tone low and threatening, "you're going to regret that."
Isadora couldn't help but smirk as she watched the conflicting emotions play across Anakin's face. His frustration was evident, but so was something else—desire, perhaps? She shifted on the bed, her gaze never leaving his.
"Oh, come on, Anakin," she purred, her voice dripping with playful taunts. "Can't handle a little temptation?" Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she continued, "I thought you were supposed to be the epitome of self-control."
Anakin's jaw clenched as he fought to rein in his temper. He took a step closer to the bed, his gaze piercing. "You have no idea what you're playing with, Isadora," he warned, his voice low and dangerous. "This isn't a game."
Isadora's grin widened as she propped herself up on her elbows, the challenge evident in her expression. "Isn't it?" she countered, her tone light but edged with defiance. "Seems like you're the one who can't handle a little fun."
Anakin's frustration boiled over, his control slipping. "Fun?" he snapped, his voice rising with each word. "This is serious, Isadora. You can't just toy with me like this."
Isadora's laughter rang out, a melodic sound that only seemed to fuel Anakin's irritation. "Oh, lighten up, Anakin," she chided, her tone teasing. "Where's your sense of adventure?"
Anakin shook his head in disbelief, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "I can't believe you're doing this," he muttered, his voice tinged with exasperation.
Their banter continued, each word a playful jab or a sharp retort, until the tension in the room became palpable. Isadora's teasing seemed to push Anakin to the brink, his frustration evident in every line of his body.
But beneath the surface, there was something else—a crack in Anakin's facade, a hint of vulnerability that Isadora couldn't ignore. It was a fleeting moment, a glimpse of the man behind the mask of control.
As their verbal sparring reached its peak, Isadora felt a twinge of guilt. Maybe she was pushing him too far, testing the limits of his patience. But then again, maybe it was exactly what they both needed—a release from the constraints of duty and expectation.
