[mmm... christmas cake...]
Dec. 17th, 2009 04:11 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ansketilDisclaimer: Star Wars is the property of George Lucas.
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2200
Pairing: Anakin/Palpatine
Warnings: Nudity and explicit scenes which may offend some people. Naughty use of cake. PWP.
Summary: Palpatine and Anakin enjoy dessert.
Author’s Note: I was discussing cake yesterday with
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luminations and this plot bunny made an appearance – so this is a silly season gift for her, the muse for this fic. I used to be quite good at food!kink when I baked in the Pirates of the Caribbean kitchen, so let’s see if I’ve still got the knack… My long cw fic is still progressing, for those interested. As part of my research for this fanfiction I baked a strawberry syrup and coconut cake and ate a slice very slowly, so think of this as my way of sharing it with you, gentlebeings. Jedi Skywalker sat opposite the Supreme Chancellor, speculating. If it was Jedi business that brought him here, it was the man himself who persuaded him to while away these long hours in the elegant crimson apartments accorded to the Head of State. There wasn’t the rapport he shared with Obi-Wan, nor the passion of Padmé, but a deep well of mutual admiration and understanding that often threatened to drown Anakin in Palpatine’s presence. The fact that he was the Chancellor only added spice to the already heady brew
Everything seemed to linger that evening, nothing was hurried; everything turned at a measured pace – from the wine to the conversation. But wasn't that always the case with Palpatine? It was noticeable in the Force, too. A quiet certainty which moved about the Chancellor like the gentle swirl of the brandy in his crystal glass – no need to rush, it said, time enough for everything.
Anakin fought against it, stretching his muscles under the table and drumming his durasteel fingers on the arm of his chair. Time was a privilege, patience – while a virtue – out of keeping with a short leave on Coruscant before the front called the young general back. This pleasurable time was but a comfortable illusion made possible only by Palpatine's exalted status, which could create safe harbours where none existed.
“Anakin?” eyebrows were leisurely raised above a concerned gaze.
“Sorry sir, my mind wandered,”
“Ah – care to take me with you?”
Anakin was unsure. There had been one kiss – one. An accidental slip of a moment on a darkening afternoon when he was younger... less controlled; a juvenile declaration of love which had embarrassed both of them. And Palpatine had promised him that he would not speak of it, that they would be as they had been. But now Anakin felt the need to renege on their agreement, to cut this measured pace in two and snatch something vital out of these sedentary pleasantries, however, he couldn’t just come out and say it – not after what had happened before. His skin itched to break this inertia.
Their dessert arrived then, carried in by two serving droids, saving Anakin from the expected reply. A brilliantly-iced edifice of white-gold turrets and battlements, decorated with the sweet berries of Naboo and darkly crimson ribbons, it shocked Anakin out of his thoughts. “That’s what I call a cake!” he said admiringly, flashing an amused grin. “What’s the occasion, or do you eat like this every night?”
Palpatine matched him grin for grin, “Good heavens no!” He paused, turning to the servo-droid, his smile vanishing “I don’t believe I ordered this.”
“No, Your Excellency. Aide Moore arranged tonight’s menu,” the droid explained with a bow.
“Did my Staff Aide explain precisely why she felt the need–?”
“Don’t send it back!” Anakin quickly interjected, reaching for the knife to emphasise his point.
“Why, yes, Your Excellency. It is your Day of Life today.”
“It…” the Chancellor frowned, “…it is?”
“Yes, Excellency – Aide Moore was quite specific. Happy Day of Life, Excellency.” The droids departed.
Anakin smiled, “I’d complain about you not telling me it was your birthday,” he used the old Tatooine term, “but it looks like you were just as in the dark about it as I was...”
“Well, why don't you cut us each a slice, hmm?” Palpatine’s tone regained some of its accustomed smoothness as he spoke.
But Anakin now had a plan. Whetting his lips as he did so, the Jedi stood and carefully cut two slices, causing aromatic syrup to ooze up through the icing, around the blade and seep out of each slice once on the plate. Anakin swiped at it with two fingers – it was sweet and somewhat sticky, and tasted of pear and berry liqueur.
Palpatine hardly touched his slice – merely blunting its edges with his spoon, liberating some of the berries. Anakin, leaning against the table, choose to forgo cutlery altogether and picked up the whole slice in his natural hand and bit into it, still warm from the oven, causing syrup to trail down his wrist and neck and creamy icing to settle around his mouth. “Look at this mess!” He exclaimed, deliberately drawing Palpatine’s attention as he put the tip of his tongue to the inside of his wrist and trailed it upward, before swirling it around his lips.
Raising an aristocratic brow, the Chancellor regarded him carefully from under half-lowered lids. It was a challenging gaze that read just what are you up to, young man? Anakin ignored the look, absorbed in licking himself clean like a great taagcat, as if unaware of the attention he was receiving from Palpatine’s eyes – there was a stirring in the Force like a bird ruffling its feathers. Anakin pushed himself upward so that he was sitting on the polished table and took another bite, repeating the process.
Though not looking at him, Anakin could still see his quarry with the eyes of the Force. The Chancellor was staring up at Anakin as though he had never seen him before. He still held the fork in his hand, poised in the air, cake quite forgotten. Unable to resist peeking at his expression, Anakin glanced across at him and saw that there was a pink tinge to Palpatine’s cheeks, and lust clouding in his usually clear eyes. The thin lips were turned downward, married to a proprietorial glare as he deliberately set down his utensil. He cocked his head and held himself very still, like the avian creature Anakin had compared him to earlier, wings neatly folded.
Very slowly, drawing out his movements, Anakin removed a berry from the top of the cake and placed it just inside his mouth, held gently between his teeth – without breaking its delicate red skin. Then he slid down the table until he was leaning over the Chancellor, boots resting on the edges of Palpatine’s chair, locking him in place between them. Close, closer, until his lips were a fraction away from meeting with Palpatine’s. There was the tension of something powerful reigned in, a dam held fast with iron resolve and fury, yes fury, at such provocation. “Anakin, this is–!”
“Shhh…” Anakin ran his cake-free durasteel fingers along the line of Palpatine’s clenched jaw as he flashed the other man a wicked smile and saw his excitement echoed in the depths of those blue eyes – the air around them was electric – Anakin could sense that Palpatine was about to say something again, but before he could do so Anakin bit down on the berry, spraying each of their mouths with juice before capturing the Chancellor’s lips as red liquid dribbled down their chins; Palpatine made a rough noise somewhere between a moan and a growl and his wings spread as talons locked on Anakin’s shoulders, pulling him downward so that Anakin half-fell on top of him with a yelp of surprise.
Tearing at Jedi robes, Palpatine’s own tongue found the syrup which had slid down that lithe neck to cling to Anakin’s collarbone, nibbling and sucking at the residue, while Anakin reached behind and scooped up a rich gobbet of icing and berry from the Chancellor’s plate onto his finger, only to slide that finger between Palpatine’s lips. “Happy birthday, sir,” he whispered, his voice smoky with desire.
The Chancellor curled his tongue around the icing with a quick swallow and laughed: a wealth of pleasure that welled up his vocal chords and his eyes glittered like Corusca gems – there was something smooth and oily on the air now, something at which every midi-chlorian in Anakin’s body screamed dangerous. The patience the Jedi had always supposed was infinite had vanished, leaving every line in Palpatine’s face drawn with pulsing, crackling possessiveness. Nails sank into the sides of Anakin’s face and ancient, unknown words dripped from greedy lips: “Si’zeth ez kren’hsi ithen!” it was a dark, sibilant intonation that resonated like a spell, but the meaning was beyond doubt, it shrieked with the triumph of it: mine, mine, mine, mine!
Anakin had never encountered the like. It was as if he’d leaped into a maelstrom and was now surging round and round as hands, lips, teeth – two bodies jumbled together like one of the Chancellor’s abstract paintings. The chair overturned and they sprawled across the carpet – now the eagle was on top, the great cat writhing underneath. But a bird’s bones are hollow and easily caught up in lithe steel paws. They rolled and Anakin held Palpatine down, working open the clasps at his neck to expose the white flesh underneath, pulling the fabric down to free his shoulders and upper back, the velvet cummerbund still tight around his middle, trapping the hands in those elaborate wings, now twice as long as they were before. Anakin teased, nibbling and biting, while his prey growled and gasped, trying to regain the upper-hand.
Using his prosthetic digits, Anakin just managed to keep him down, while he snatched the almost untouched piece of cake from the table. He drew a line in pear syrup from the termination of the silver hairline to where the cummerbund prevented Palpatine’s ceremonial robes from sliding down any further. Then Anakin’s tongue followed back up the sweet line he had made along the ridge of Palpatine’s spine and the fury beneath him quieted, eyes closed. Kissing the lattice of lines at the corner of Palpatine’s eye with his syrupy lips, Anakin relaxed.
Immediately, he was spun sideways, to land face-down in the dish of cake. A dark chuckle above him as Palpatine, unable to employ his hands, used his teeth to loose Anakin’s belt while Anakin wiped the cake from his face with his hands and tongue, managing to reach around and smear it across the side of Palpatine’s jaw.
“Oh my!” came the horrified gasp of the serving droid, who had presumably entered to clean away their plates.
That moment of distraction was all Anakin required to snatch back the advantage, flipping Palpatine over and putting a cake-coated hand over his mouth as he addressed the droid: “His Excellency won’t be requiring any more service this evening,” Anakin told the droid briskly as sharp teeth snapped against cake and hand, “…I’ll see to his needs.”
The droid, as much as a droid could, glanced cautiously at Palpatine, who nodded. “Of course, noble Jedi. I shall instruct no one to disturb you.”
Anakin scooped up Palpatine in his arms, his cheeky grin set into a face full of icing and bits of syrupy sponge. “I have a better idea – where does the Chancellor sleep?”
Following the droid, whom he had instructed to bring the birthday cake, and with his hand still firmly lodged over his powerful prisoner’s mouth, Anakin entered the Chancellor’s bedroom, where he deposited Palpatine on the silk covers, using the Force to hold him there while he quickly undressed. Then he moved to undress his companion, whose eyes burnt with a cool fire. Shoes and trousers were soon disposed of, leaving only the dark wings and sweeping velvet plumage of his magnificent, silver-haired bird. Icing and syrup were then dribbled up the insides of those pale thighs, leaving a berry-coloured stain in the wake of Anakin’s worshipful tongue – the warm human hand curled around Palpatine’s own pleasure in a sticky rhythm while the smooth metal one slipped two fingers into his opening, eased by sweet-smelling berry icing.
He released the Force-net, allowing the Chancellor to squirm as Anakin gentled him with kisses while his fingers did their work. “Mmmm… I have…I… oh, Anakin!” At that moment durasteel fingers gave way to something else as Anakin’s hips began to slide against him. The closer they came to it, the more Anakin could drink in the aura that Palpatine had first exuded in the dining room. It’s rampant, addictive spice. He wanted to catch it, consume it - break the barrier that kept it diluted, just out of his reach.
Finally, striking the very precipice, he glimpsed it, as though he'd been living all his life in a sand-hut and the roof had been suddeny ripped away and above him shone the desert firmament – the centre of a vast galactic tapestry – and all the dark, galloping hearts that dwelled within every creature in the universe seemed to be beating with his, raging with his, all touched and touching, on and on in a limitless, expanding gasp of feeling until there was nothing but stars and Anakin’s awareness shrank back down to this system, this planet, this room.
He tumbled off Palpatine with a cry and stared up at the red ceiling, lights pooling at the edges of his vision. “That was… amazing…” he managed eventually.
His words were answered with a creaky, self-satisfied grin and a voice as rich and sticky as the syrup which clung to their skin. “Well, I suppose you’ll have to take dessert with me more often, won’t you?”
THE END
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no subject
Date: 2009-12-17 05:33 am (UTC)...I'm afraid you'll have to wait for your "proper" comment, but you're used to that by now, eh? Hehehe. Sweet dreams! (er... whenever you go to bed. I'm going shortly. Heeee)
Thank you for indulging my sweet tooth so wonderfully!!!
no subject
Date: 2009-12-17 05:39 am (UTC)LOL - yeah - I know the drill. But you've usually commented again by the time I wake up so... ^_^ It's only 6.30 pm here. I'm glad you liked the cake-fic! ^_______^ <3
1/2
Date: 2009-12-17 01:35 pm (UTC)Am I usually so fast? Okay, I'm a comment now having freshly woken up, so I can blame lack of coffee instead of fatigue for any incoherent babbling.
Like "<33333333333333333333333333333333333333333 x1000000!"
I like how you set it up at the beginning like there's not gonna be any sexin'. They just appreciate each other. *snort*
The fact that he was the Chancellor only added spice to the already heady brew
Food metaphor! Bwahaha!
And it's so true. You know Anakin gets off on the power of having such a powerful man wrapped around his little finger. Er... wait, that's Wendy Land. But there's still some of that going on with... less finger wrappage.
Yup, Palps is all about taking it slow. He planned the galactic take-over for decades, for chrissakes. That's why he's so fun with "I WANT IT NOW" Anakin! (okay, one reason)
This pleasurable time was but a comfortable illusion made possible only by Palpatine's exalted status, which could create safe harbours where none existed.
Palps = safe harbour! Oh yes!
Here's a good reason for Anakin to be impatient: his time IS more fleeting than the Chancellor's. He only gets 10 days of leave (unless that's just from fic... it's accepted fanon in my mind) and then he's off fighting for however many months.
Only one kiss! Hee! And we all know how "one kiss" can haunt Anakin - that is canon! Bwahaha! I half expected him to declare that he's in AGONY...
And here we have the first description of the cake. YUM. ME WANT. Anakin asks if he eats like this every night - ha!!!
Did Palpatine really forget his birthday, or is he fibbing for whatever reason? Hehehe. How nice of Sly to remember. Do you think she was hoping that she would be invited to partake in the cake with him? I totally think she's jealous of Anakin, canonically :D
causing aromatic syrup to ooze up through the icing, around the blade and seep out of each slice once on the plate.
Mmmmm, the cake porn begins...
And Anakin's the one with the PLAN now! Bwahaha! Who picks up a gooey cake (as opposed to like, pound cake, which I could maybe understand) instead of using a fork? Hee! GO ANI!
Raising an aristocratic brow, the Chancellor regarded him carefully from under half-lowered lids. It was a challenging gaze that read just what are you up to, young man?
LOL - I just love that image!
his voice smoky with desire
More food! Well, it can be. Though one typically smokes meats, not cakes.
2/2
Date: 2009-12-17 01:35 pm (UTC)Followed by Anakin dismissing the droid because HE will take care of his needs... AHAHAHA OH YES HE WILL.
Oh, but backtracking a moment - Kissing the lattice of lines at the corner of Palpatine’s eye with his syrupy lips - aww! I like seeing Palpatine's appearance used. He's not some hot young stud. And that's okay. I'm starting to grow my own "lattice" there, and I despise it, but... at least Palps is more wrinkled than I? :D
Ack, I'd better hurry up, I have to start getting ready for work.
Finally, striking the very precipice, he glimpsed it, as though he'd been living all his life in a sand-hut and the roof had been suddeny ripped away and above him shone the desert firmament – the centre of a vast galactic tapestry – and all the dark, galloping hearts that dwelled within every creature in the universe seemed to be beating with his, raging with his, all touched and touching, on and on in a limitless, expanding gasp of feeling until there was nothing but stars and Anakin’s awareness shrank back down to this system, this planet, this room.
OMG, you write such pretty orgasms!
And I didn't even touch on the bird and cat imagery. Perfect for these two. Palpatine with his delicate bones like a bird, and of course the vibrant plumage... Anakin stalking his prey like a cat... just lovely, through and through!
And a perfect last line! Ahahaha, yes I bet he will! ;)
I'll be sure to think of this fic when I eat my cake today. And there will be, because the birthday girl opted to leave it here for
meothers to eat the rest of the week rather than take it home. She asked me if I wanted to take it home. Um, no, dude, it's YOUR birthday, I'm not taking it home! Sheesh. Doesn't anyone else have a cake fetish? (ahaha, well, Anakin and Palpatine do, as we've seen! :D)Thank you for spoiling me so with such decadence!!!
*uses "orgasmic expression" palps icon*
Date: 2009-12-19 05:00 am (UTC)Argh! Your comments were soooo looooooong and great I don't know what to say! dammit, I'm going to have to satisfy myslef with
I LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOVE YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOU!!!!!
Re: *uses "orgasmic expression" palps icon*
Date: 2009-12-19 03:06 pm (UTC)I WUV U TOOOOOOOOO
MY COMMENTS HAVE AN EVIL PURPOSE, THOUGH. JUST WANT YOU TO WRITE MOAR PALPAKIN. MOAR MOAR MOAR!!!
no subject
Date: 2009-12-18 04:19 pm (UTC)Did it work? *is curious*
These lines caught my full attention: Everything seemed to linger that evening, nothing was hurried; everything turned at a measured pace – from the wine to the conversation. But wasn't that always the case with Palpatine? It was noticeable in the Force, too.
You have Palpatine nailed here- or rather, the Palpatine he was showing to the world. And the ending with the Force? Truly a masterpiece :) He's a manipulator. (and we all love it!)
I really enjoyed reading it!
Yen
no subject
Date: 2009-12-19 04:58 am (UTC)Did it work? *is curious*
LOLOL - I don't need bribing! The stuff just pours out of me... I'm thinking of seeing a specialist, lol!
Glad you liked the Palpatine characterisation and the cake! ^_^ Maybe I'll bake you a second helping sometime...
no subject
Date: 2009-12-18 09:13 pm (UTC)You've managed to squick me.
(I suppose that's consistent with you being her Master and everything.)
Urgh, God, cake all over..., I need some brain bleach.
no subject
Date: 2009-12-19 04:56 am (UTC)Gosh, I don't think I've squicked anyone for AGES... lol!
no subject
Date: 2009-12-19 12:11 pm (UTC)The important thing is that Wendy likes it. :)
no subject
Date: 2009-12-19 03:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-23 05:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-24 07:50 am (UTC)Cheap Cialis without direction
Date: 2011-08-14 08:23 am (UTC)