Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
1.3k
As they returned to the safety of the Jedi temple, Anakin couldn't shake the image of Isadora's bruised cheek from his mind. Sitting beside her in their quarters, he carefully cleaned the cuts and bruises that marred her delicate skin.
"I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice heavy with regret as he dabbed at the purpling bruise on her cheek. "I never meant to hurt you."
Isadora winced slightly at the sting of the antiseptic, but she offered him a small smile. "It's okay, Anakin," she reassured him. "I know you were just trying to keep up appearances. We both were."
Anakin sighed, his fingers gentle as they traced the lines of her face. "I just hate seeing you like this," he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. "I hate that I have to pretend to hurt you, even for a mission."
Their conversation shifted as Anakin's gaze wandered to the revealing slave outfit Isadora still wore. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the way the fabric clung to her curves, the sight igniting a fire within him that he struggled to contain.
"Isadora," he began, his voice low and husky. "You're still wearing that... outfit."
Isadora flushed under his intense gaze, suddenly self-conscious. "I-I know," she stammered, her cheeks turning a shade of pink. "I was just about to change."
Anakin's expression darkened as he leaned closer, his breath warm against her skin. "No," he said firmly, his eyes smoldering with desire. "Let me do it."
Isadora's heart pounded in her chest as Anakin's hands moved to the hem of her shirt, his touch sending shivers down her spine. With a slow, deliberate motion, he began to peel away the fabric, his eyes never leaving hers as he bared her to his hungry gaze.
As her skin was revealed inch by inch, Isadora felt a rush of heat flood her senses. She had never felt more vulnerable, more exposed, yet at the same time, more desired.
Anakin's fingers trailed along the curves of her body, his touch setting her skin ablaze with longing. "You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice husky with desire. "I can't resist you, Isadora. I never could."
As Isadora leaned back against the bed, a mischievous glint danced in her eyes. "You know," she began, her voice dripping with playful teasing, "you're the one who gave me this outfit in the first place."
Anakin's gaze darkened as he hovered over her, his hands tracing the curve of her hip. "I know," he replied, his voice husky with desire. "And seeing you in it now... it drives me wild."
Isadora couldn't help but giggle at his response, her fingers dancing lightly across his chest. "Oh, does it now?" she teased, arching an eyebrow in amusement.
Anakin's lips curled into a wicked grin as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against her ear. "You have no idea," he whispered, his voice low and dangerous. "You look absolutely irresistible, Isadora. I can hardly control myself."
