Which, she reflects, should be a lot more fun than it currently is.
As it stands he's just trying to get the laces to unknot.
"Anakin," she says, trying to sound as reasonable as she can manage when her head is almost on her knees and her ribs are severely constricted, "I think... you may need... a knife..."
"No," he says, "I've almost got it."
"... can't breathe," she manages.
And she'll say this for him - he hauls her back up surprisingly quickly. He even strokes her face and tumbled curls and looks utterly, totally repentant.
"Padme," he says, "I'm so sorry. Are you okay? Here, just lean back a bit. It's okay. I've got you."
And she is very thankful for the strong arm he uses to support her as she gets her protesting lungs to behave.
This is sadly a lot easier than getting her clothes to behave. Or her husband, if it comes to that.
"Ani," she says, when she has enough breathe, "Maybe we should call one of my..."
"No! I can do this," Anakin says.
She knows he can do it. He's got most of the buckles loosened, and the catch pulling the ruching up between her breasts has finally deigned to unsnap. The zipper down her back, though, can only be reached once the stays are undone.
And those, sadly, are badly knotted.
She sighs.
She really does want to get out of this ridiculous garment.
It had looked so amazingly sexy in the private showroom. And Anakin's face when he walked in....
About thirty minutes ago, even remembering it had been enough to feel a shiver down her spine. The way his eyes had widened, his jaw slackened. The way he'd stared at her barely veiled breasts, and then lingered over the tight bodice accentuating the curves of her slender hips.
Oh, she'd been ready to be ravished.
Until he'd unpeeled his mouth from hers to see what the hell was digging into his thigh and why the thin chains draped over her upper arms didn't have enough length to let her put her arms around his neck.
She lifts a hand now to touch Anakin's handsome face.
"Dearest," she says tenderly, "If you don't get a pair of scissors and cut me out of this thing, I will never have sex with you again."
He blinks.
"And I'm not joking," she promises.
"Padme, I know it's uncomfortable..."
"Next time you're wearing it," she says, "And then we'll see how uncomfortable you feel."
"... but you look amazing and you're so beautiful and I just want this night to be perfect..."
He kisses her neck.
She yawns.
"It was perfect before you put a knot in the stays! Get a pair of scissors. Or a knife. Or your lightsaber."
"Padme..."
"Anakin Skywalker, you are about to be the first divorced Jedi in the history of your precious Order. Will you or will you not get me out of this?"
"Just give me ten minutes," he begs.
And she sighs.
"You have five," she grumbles, "And I'm lying on my front. That way you won't forget I have to breath every now and again."
She falls asleep before he finally manages to unknot the damn stays.
FILL: Anakin/Padme, elaborate clothes kills the mood
Which, she reflects, should be a lot more fun than it currently is.
As it stands he's just trying to get the laces to unknot.
"Anakin," she says, trying to sound as reasonable as she can manage when her head is almost on her knees and her ribs are severely constricted, "I think... you may need... a knife..."
"No," he says, "I've almost got it."
"... can't breathe," she manages.
And she'll say this for him - he hauls her back up surprisingly quickly. He even strokes her face and tumbled curls and looks utterly, totally repentant.
"Padme," he says, "I'm so sorry. Are you okay? Here, just lean back a bit. It's okay. I've got you."
And she is very thankful for the strong arm he uses to support her as she gets her protesting lungs to behave.
This is sadly a lot easier than getting her clothes to behave. Or her husband, if it comes to that.
"Ani," she says, when she has enough breathe, "Maybe we should call one of my..."
"No! I can do this," Anakin says.
She knows he can do it. He's got most of the buckles loosened, and the catch pulling the ruching up between her breasts has finally deigned to unsnap. The zipper down her back, though, can only be reached once the stays are undone.
And those, sadly, are badly knotted.
She sighs.
She really does want to get out of this ridiculous garment.
It had looked so amazingly sexy in the private showroom. And Anakin's face when he walked in....
About thirty minutes ago, even remembering it had been enough to feel a shiver down her spine. The way his eyes had widened, his jaw slackened. The way he'd stared at her barely veiled breasts, and then lingered over the tight bodice accentuating the curves of her slender hips.
Oh, she'd been ready to be ravished.
Until he'd unpeeled his mouth from hers to see what the hell was digging into his thigh and why the thin chains draped over her upper arms didn't have enough length to let her put her arms around his neck.
She lifts a hand now to touch Anakin's handsome face.
"Dearest," she says tenderly, "If you don't get a pair of scissors and cut me out of this thing, I will never have sex with you again."
He blinks.
"And I'm not joking," she promises.
"Padme, I know it's uncomfortable..."
"Next time you're wearing it," she says, "And then we'll see how uncomfortable you feel."
"... but you look amazing and you're so beautiful and I just want this night to be perfect..."
He kisses her neck.
She yawns.
"It was perfect before you put a knot in the stays! Get a pair of scissors. Or a knife. Or your lightsaber."
"Padme..."
"Anakin Skywalker, you are about to be the first divorced Jedi in the history of your precious Order. Will you or will you not get me out of this?"
"Just give me ten minutes," he begs.
And she sighs.
"You have five," she grumbles, "And I'm lying on my front. That way you won't forget I have to breath every now and again."
She falls asleep before he finally manages to unknot the damn stays.