The End Justifies the Means

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A Grievous Admittance


“Now you have freely given me leave to love,
What will you do?
Shall I your mirth, or passion move,
When I begin to woo;
Will you torment, or scorn, or love me too?”

Thomas Carew


Padmé thought we were about to die.

I could have told her we weren't but the simple fact was I didn't think she would believe me. Any assurances on my part would've been considered false words of comfort, an attempt by her protector to lessen her fear and anxiety in the face of certain demise.

Non-Jedi tended not to put much faith in Force feelings and visions, believing if they couldn't see it, hear it, or touch it, it probably didn't exist. The ever-practical senator wasn't any diffe whe when it came to the somewhat skeptical and disbelieving view of the power that bound the galaxy together.

So instead I’d settled for a simple phrase of reassurance. “Don’t be afraid.”

“I am not afraid to die. I have been dying a little each day since you came back into my life.”

“What are you talking about?”

"I love you."

Padmé's declaration came from out of nowhere, thrilling and shocking me simultaneously. Her soft words made real what befhad had only been yearned for, suspected but kept maddeningly unconfirmed. A warm glow sparked in my heart, spreading through my body like the rays of a morning sunrise to chase away the shadows and defeat the dark. It was as if before I had only existed in a world of black and white and now that world was bursting forth with radiant color, stealing the breath from my lungs with its sheer beauty, with the endless possibilities suddenly within arms reach.

Reality, a state much vaunted by a certain senator, came crashing down abruptly with the weight of the ages. Something was off, something wasn't quite right. Staring back at me were eyes shimmering suspiciously with unshed tears. And then I understood. The little glimmer of joy that had begun to light my face sputtered and died.

It wasn't doubt at her words that stripped the color from my world as suddenly as it had appeared. I was fairly sure that our night in the garage wouldn’t have ended as it had if she didn’t love me. At least that's what I told myself, willed myself to believe. No, what made my heart freeze in mid-beat was the undeniable reason she picked that particular time to admit her feelings.

The logic behind her timing was ridiculously transparent. I knew the way her mind worked better than anyone, probably even better than she did. Padmé was throwing caution to the wind because she thought we were about to die. If we were dead there would be no ramifications from the Jedi Council to contend with, no sacrifices that would have to be made in order to be together. With no future to consider, it didn't cost her anything to utter those three little words. If Padmé had thought for one minute that we would live through the upcoming ordeal, she would've remained silent.

I needed more. I deserved more. So I decided to play devil's advocate, intent on making Padmé back up her declaration so there would be no doubts once we were through the impending ordeal. There was no doubt in my mind that should I let things stand on her 'I love you' alone, she would inevitably find a way to circumvent the consequences. And after all the grief she had put me through only to tell me HERE of all places, there wasn't a little annoyance encouraging me to turn the screws.

"You love me? You love me! I thought we decided not to fall in love. That we would be forced to live a lie. That it would destroy our lives." I said, putting as much disbelief and doubt in my voice as I could manage.

"I think our lives are about to be destroyed anyway."

I remained silent, trying hard to maintain my anger in light of her pale face and haunted eyes while letting my skepticism bait the trap, purposely putting her in the position of having to defend her words. To my immense satisfaction and relief she very obligingly walked right into it.

"I truly, deeply love you, and before we die, I want you to know."

The satisfying sound of the trap snapping shut resounded in my head. With those words Padmé sealed her fate and confirmed our destiny in one fell swoop. There would be no claims of a mistake or misunderstanding in the aftermath; no protesting that she had meant she loved me the way one loved a friend or an honorary brother.

No, Padmé had said she 'truly, deeply' loved me and it wouldn't be possible for her to rescind that declaration, if for no other reason than I wouldn't let her. Not while I had a single breath left in my body.

Our bodies drew towards each other to allow our lips to meet in a lingering kiss; my triumph mixing uneasily with her sorrow and regret. There was a sharp lurch then the cart jerked forward, taking us into the execution arena where the bloodthirsty audience awaited.

The roar from the overcrowded spectator stands was deafening. We broke apart reluctantly, Padmé taking in the noise and sights with uncharacteristic awe and apprehension, and I standing stoically by her side.

Beneath my mask of studied concentration, I smiled, sure that I had won.


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Mind Games


"She is a woman, therefore may be woo'd;
She is a woman, therefore may be won."

William Shakespeare


I awoke from the Jedi healing trance to find both my Master and Padmé standing at the side of my raised medical bunk with identical expressions of concern mingled with relief.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, Anakin." Obi Wan said, allowing a small smile to chase away the lines of worry that were etching his face.

My throat and mouth were unbelievably dry and I drank thirstily from the proffered cup of water before I felt capable of speaking. Obi Wan, not one for wasting time, proceeded to bring me up to speed, first on my condition and then on the progress of the investigations down on Geonosis. Throughout our discussion Padmé remained in the background, well behind my Master, and uncharacteristically quiet. Puzzled, I couldn’t keep myself from darting questioning glances at her, silently asking for some type of reassurance only to be flatly ignored. The initial relief I’d first glimpsed on her face had long since disappeared and been replaced by an aloof politeness normally reserved for the times when diplomacy was needed.

Unnoticed by my visitors, the metal fingers of my new mechanical arm closed in a tight fist at my side. Padmé was not going to retreat from me, not again, not after Tatooine.

Eventually Obi Wan ran out of things to say, thank the Force, and Padmé moved forward to take his place. Her pace was a little too reluctant, a little too hesitant for my taste. My Master'schfuchful gaze fell heavily upon us both. Though Padmé had her back to him, I knew she was aware of just how intently our cool exchange was observed. Clearly my actions on the transport when Padmé had fallen and her reaction to finding me wounded in the hangar had raised suspicions.

Despite that worrisome realization, I was able to relax and let go of my sudden anxiety, putting down her chilly demeanor to play-acting for our audience; an assumption in which I was soon proved very wrong.


****

The expected lessening in Padmé’s distant behavior didn’t occur. Whether Obi Wan was present or not, she remained detached, never varying her routine. Always keeping just out of my reach, she would settle in the chair furthest from my bunk, her politician’s mask firmly in place. There was never as much as even a welcoming sparkle in her demeanor. It was as if our passionate coming together never occurred and I couldn't abide the thought that she seemed so willing to put it behind her.

At Padmé's direction our conversations consisted of the mundane; everything and anything except the subject of us. With all the skill of her years in public service, any attempt on my part to steer the talk towards the future, our future, was cleverly blocked and parried; expertly maneuvered in a completely new direction that bore nothing in common with the intended topic. By the end of that first day, I had retreated to a sullen silence punctuated with looks that threatened unnamed retaliation for her very unacceptable behavior. Watching the trepidation flit across her face at my unspoken displeasure was my only satisfaction and it fed the anger that had begun to simmer below the surface of my skin, making it feel too tight.

It wasn't until the last visit on that first day of consciousness that I got some of my own back. Obi Wan was not present, though numerous hovering medical personnel and droids served as our unofficial chaperons, at his request I’m sure. With no interfering Jedi Master present, and thus no chance of being 'overheard', I waited until Padmé had taken her customary place before putting my plan into effect. She had just started to tell me of the latest news from Coruscant gleaned from the HoloNet when I struck with the first Force thought.

"The Chancellor has authorized the order for more clone troopers. The implications of this will…will…" Padmé sputtered helplessly before coming to a stop, cheeks burning crimson.

Brown eyes widened in gratifying shock and embarrassment. Abandoning her previous stance of studiously avoiding eye contact, Padmé's gaze flew up and locked with mine. I couldn't stop the smile of satisfaction from curling my lips.

This was going to be fun, I thought to myself smugly. And it was.

Padmé proved to be a captive audience for the hail of erotic thoughts and images that I continued to send her as her own efforts to appear normal around me worked against her. The much despised and very annoying guard dogs suddenly became my unexpected allies. It was their presence and the possibility of their reporting any suspicious behavior to Obi Wan that kept Padmé from bolting from the medical bay as I knew she so desperately wanted to.

The only problem with my revenge was the arousing affect it was having on me – the evidence of which was thankfully hidden by the blanket covering my lap. If I had not been hooked up to various monitoring equipment I would’ve been hard pressed to refrain from getting up and pulling Padmé up from where she sat squirming uncomfortably in her chair and into my arms, guard dogs be damned.

The minutes flew by for me but for the mortified senator each must have seemed like an hour. To my amusement, at one point she even closed her eyes, screwing them tightly shut as if the images could be blocked from her sight. My short bark of laughter snapped them open again instantly. I arched an eyebrow at her and smiled making a mockery of her attempt to escape.

I let my eyes drift over her body suggestively as much for my own pleasure as to disconcert Padmé. She tried to act nonchalant under my wandering gaze but was betrayed by her white knuckled grip on the arms of her chair. When my eyes leisurely trailed up to meet hers, I made no effort to disguise my growing hunger and was rewarded with a strangled noise from the back of her throat.

"Anakin…" She said breathlessly.

Whether it was a plea or a warning was difficult to say. Suddenly the desire to touch her was too great a temptation to ignore. With little thought to prying eyes, I held my hand out and beckoned.

"Come here." I said in a tone that left no room for argument.

Padmé hesitated; glancing at the nearest medical technician warily re dre dutifully rising to her feet and slowly closing the distance between us. With a show of great reluctance she finally placed her hand in mine. I eyed the smooth skin of her bared mid-rift appreciatively before taking a cautious look around. What I saw, or didn't see rather, put a speculative gleam in my eye.

The number of spies had dwindled due to the change from day to night shift and by some stroke of luck no one seemed to be paying us the slightest bit of attention. I knew better than to try anything overt, though my body was crying out to feel her warmth pressed against it. I contented myself with caressing the back of her hand with my thumb in slow, sensuous circles, making sure that Padmé's position continued to block watchful eyes.

Beneath my fingers I could feel the rapid beating of her pulse and the way it jumped when our eyes met in a heated exchange. The electricity between us was a tangible entity that crackled and sparked, increasing the tension with each passing second. A shaky sigh passed Padmé's lips, an acknowledgment that she was as affected by the contact of our flesh as I.

It was over far too quickly. In those heady moments of mutual desire realized, I allowed myself to be distracted and let our connection slip. The answering fire in Padmé's eyes didn't die so much as dim as she became aware of the dangerous territory we were treading. The protective walls slammed down and she wrenched her hand from mine, scooting backwards in a panic.

Disappointment and irritation swept through me, wiping out the desire and replacing it with grim determination. Under my suddenly disapproving gaze, Padmé continued to back away, casting uneasy glances in the direction of the oblivious technicians. When she had reached the door she turned her full attention back to me.

"This will not happen again, Anakin. It stops now."

The smug look on my face would have infuriated Padmé had she stayed to observe it. Her sharp words had been brave but her voice had been unsteady. I knew she had spoken more to convince herself than to chastise me, though she probably wouldn't have agreed with that assessment.

Well satisfied with myself, I let the medical droid check me over without my customary accompanying complaints. A low mechanical hum sounded as the Onebee unit adjusted the bunk, lowering the section beneath my back until I was lying prone.

I stared up at the ceiling and idly pondered Padmé's parting words. Had she meant the physical contact, the seduction by Force thought or, and much more likely, both. Not that it mattered one bit, I thought with a grin. Despite her wishes to the contrary, I had no intention of stopping until either she ceased with her ridiculous charade when we were alone or I was released, whichever came first.

The stubborn senator had met her match. Unlike the politicians she was use to dealing with; I wasn't hobbled by diplomatic etiquette or burdened with…well, scruples. And I intended to use every means at my disposal to break down her resistance - fair mear for foul.


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A Reversal of Fortune Confirmed


The lady doth protest too much, methinks.”

William Shakespeare


Padmé’s fork stopped its ascent, poised mid-way to her mouth, a look of leeriness suddenly shadowing her face. She slowly lowered the utensil back down to her plate, the untouched bite of food still speared on the prongs. Brown eyeid aid away from mine to stare unseeing at the food I knew she wouldn’t be finishing.

"What are you talking about?" Her hushed question filled with unflattering dread.

"Getting married, of course."

Impatience tempered my words. She knew damn well what I was talking about.

Padmé looked up quickly, the astonished expression on her face irritating me and frightening me at the same time. The blood had drained from her face leaving it waxy under the artificial light of the cabin.

"There isn't going to be a wedding, Anakin. You know that."

{We have discussed this already. It is not possible for us. We agreed}

Her words were an echo of those she had used in an attempt to ward me off that night. It hadn't worked then; it wasn't going to work now. I kept silent and watched her unwaveringly.

An exasperated sigh escaped Padmé before she shoved her plate away, her nose wrinkling in disgust as if the food had suddenly gone bad. I could sense her tumultuous thoughts and emotions through our bond - a bond she wasn't consciously aware that we shared; nor was she ready to know about it.

Anger flared deep within as I picked up her thought of going to Obi Wan for assistance with my "youthful infatuation". The idea that she might still entertain the notion that my feelings for her were little more than some childish crush set my teeth on edge.

Ignoring the confusion and worry that accompanied her traitorous thought, I focused on that random thought of appealing to Obi Wan. In a lightening fast move, my fingers closed around the slender wrist of the hand she had been resting atop the table. The sudden move jolted Padmé', her startled eyes snapped up to meet mine, their expression changing instantly from weary determination to an uneasy wariness.

"Don't, Padmé.” I warned. “Don't."

The spasm of pain that swept across Padmé's features startled me. I glanced down to find I was no longer just holding her wrist but was grinding her skin and delicate bone together in my agitation. Under my breath I muttered an oath, cursing my lack of control. Immediately, I loosened my grip and began to gently rub the reddened flesh in silent apology.

Padmé looked away with a guilty flush to her cheeks but allowed my soothing touch on her bruised flesh to continue. The silence between us stretched out uncomfortably, the air practically buzzing with the strong emotions being held in check.

Padmé avoided my eyes, starring instead with unwarranted fascination at the tabletop while one finger repeatedly traced a figure eight on the smooth surface. It reminded me of the way she had drawn a pattern with the tip of her shoe on the floor of Watto's shop after I'd told her I wouldn't always be a little boy. I almost snorted out loud at the memory. Some things never changed.

The seconds slipped slowly by, ratcheting the tension up another notch. Most people might have assumed that Padmé was merely taking time to gather her composure but I knew better. That clever mind of hers was working furiously to come up with a dozen or so ways to get me to see what she called 'reason'.

The scowl I wore deepened when the hand in my charge was unceremoniously snatched away, its owner sitting back in her seat with squared shoulders and a defiant tilt to her chin. I groaned to myself, recognizing the familiar signs of an impending lecture, as if I didn't get enough of those from a certain Jedi. Force save us from politicians, I thought darkly. Pes Obs Obi Wan was at least partially right about their ilk.

I stubbornly tuned out the diatribe that followed. Every once in awhile I would catch a stray word or two that would so incense me I had to resort to a Jedi calming technique to keep my temper from exploding. Maddening words like 'duty', 'our positions', and 'no' mocked my attempts to stay calm. I especially didn't like that last one.

"Anakin, listen to me! The Jedi Council will never allow us to marry. You have to accept the reality of our situation." She said desperately.

I chose to let slide the way she spoke to me as if I were a child….for the present.

“They won’t object if they don’t know about it.” I said stubbornly.

Padmé flew out of her chair, a bundle of nervous energy too volatile to remain stationary. My eyes followed her, stalking her as she paced back and forth before me. She was wearing her hair up again, I noticed with displeasure, gradually making the transformation back to aloof senator and away from me. My fingers itched to pull the hairpins out and let the curls tumble free. I preferred her with it loose. The image of Padmé trembling beneath me, eyes dark with desire, lips swollen from my kisses, and her hair loose, wildly framing her flushed face flashed in my mind. Gods, yes.! When she wore it down she was soft and approachable…and mine.

Padmé's frustration was growing like an unchecked weed. When the silence turned deafening my impatience got the better of me and I played my trump sabaac card.

“You said you loved me. Was that a lie?”

The question stopped her in her tracks, leaving me to stare at her rigidly held back. Apprehension tensed my body as I waited for the expected words of denial. Anger at the injustice of it all was beginning to thrum fast in my veins in anticipation of her rejection. My words hung in the quiet room for what seemed like an eternity but in truth it was mere seconds before she surprised me with her reply.

“You know it was not.” She said, reluctance clinging to each word.

The effort it cost her to admit that was great. The sudden droop of her shoulders drew me out of my seat and forward. Closing the distance between us, I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her back into my body. At first Padmé stiffened at my unexpected embrace but then melted back against me as her body obeyed its instincts, overruling her mind.

The top of her head fit perfectly under my chin, further proof that we were two halves of a whole. I was relieved she hadn't attempted to excuse her words of love away in the manner I had feared. Perhaps she was finally coming to accept the inevitable.

I sighed inwardly with a sense of cautious relief. She hadn't denied that she loved me and as the reckless one willing to fly in the face of convention, I dared to think the matter settled. There was but one thing to do when two people loved each other and I followed my thoughts to conclusion – prematurely as it turned out.

“Then we will get married.” I stated doggedly.

Another sigh of hopeless exasperation and then Padmé was out of my arms, whirling around to face me with her hands on her hips and impatience shining in her eyes. Defiance radiated off of her like the stink off a bantha and the anger within buzzed louder.

"No, Anakin."

That word again! It was always 'no' with her. No, she shouldn't have kissed me; no, she wouldn't give into her feelings; no, she wouldn't marry me. Why did she have to be so rebellious when it came to me? The finality in her tone let loose the swollen tide of anger and frustration, sending it crashing violently in my head.

“I won’t let you throw what we have away. I won’t let you go.”

Padmé's willful glare faded at my words. Within their brown depths, her eyes were a study of indecision and fear reflecting back. Part of me wanted to relent, to back off and give her space to breath. Browbeating her into marriage wasn't what I wanted. After a long moment, she turned away from me to stare sightlessly across the stateroom.

"I can't." Padmé said quietly. "Please, I can't."

My resolve faltered a little more. The plea in her voice reduced her back to the child that she had never really been allowed to be. The fact that she had broken away from her usual formal speaking manner did not go unnoticed either. I didn't like the feeling of guilt that my observations inspired.

Her name was the only thing I managed to get out before I was interrupted.

"Anakin, no!" Padmé said emphatically before spinning around and making her way quickly to the stateroom's entry door.

All the sympathy weakening me vanished. She was walking out on me? Sithspawn! Padmé was denying her feelings, throwing away our love for the sake of what? An ineffectual role in a dying form of government, that's what.

"Where do you think you're going?"

“I cannot discuss this anymore, Anakin. I will be in the library catching up on my senatorial duties. I suggest you spend some time remembering that you have your own obligations to uphold.”

Fire danced before my eyes as a wave of heat burned down my throat. The knots in my stomach tightened with her cold, haughty tone.

“This isn’t over, Senator,” I called after her. “It’s far from over.”

There was no response. Throwing myself down on the couch that served as a divider between the dining area and the lounge, I stared pensively at the closed door through which Padmé had just disappeared. Sometimes it felt as if all I'd done since meeting her again was watch her run away; from her feelings and from me.

Padmé's continued resistance was not something for which I had been adequately prepared. Though I hadn't exactly eted ted her to fall in with my plans right away, neither had I bargained for the fact that she remained intent on choosing duty over love. Stubborn to the last, I muttered under my breath, conveniently ignoring that I had been accused of the same by Obi Wan and most of the Council.

So far nothing had gone as I had planned. I was being true to myself and letting passion be my guide while Padmé was hiding, using cold logic to keep me at bay. It infuriated me that she could still remain so detached after what had transpired on Tatooine.

Oh yes, let's remember that inauspicious occasion, a mocking voice whispered.

I tried to shut out the image that came unbidden to my mind's eye. I didn't want to remember the look of horror in Padmé's eyes or the way her body had trembled in fright. I didn't want to think about the dark power that had first driven me to exact revenge on my mother's killers and then had guided me to treat Padmé as if she were merely a vessel with which to assuage my lust. And I most certainly didn't want to hear the reverberations of her muffled scream as I had brutally taken her virginity.

It was no use telling myself that I had tried to turn her away. There was a part of me that suspected my gesture had been an empty one anyway. My feelings where Padmé was concerned weren't manageable and with the benefit of hindsight, I knew that my resolve would never have lasted. I doubt she would even have made it to her ship before I followed. It was a disturbing and uncomfortable realization.

So much for your belated sense of honor, my conscious hissed.

The unsettling truth was that Padmé had offered herself up as a sacrifice and I had accepted it hungrily, choosing to take refuge in her body rather than face the darkness alone. In reality there had been no measurable hesitation with which to comfort myself afterwards. The outcome of that night would've remained the same whether it had happened in the garage, the ship, or the spare room Cleigg had offered me. I had known it even as I raced through the desert with my mother's body secured to the back of the bike by hands stained with blood.

Shifting restlessly, I forced myself to dwell further on the ugly truth. I had let the dark side take me over resulting in the massacre of the Tusken Raiders and my attempt to take Padmé by force. Of the two, what I had put Padmé through scared me the most. N tha tha that a voice chanted a soothing litany in my head absolving me of responsibility. Remorse and fear guided my increasingly troubled thoughts. A vague sense that dark remnants remained behind to influence my actions was viciously shoved aside in favor of dwelling on the girl who had haunted me from the moment we met.

Everything always came back to Padmé.

Need and desire tore at my vulnerable insides, torturing me far more than my conscious ever could. Padmé'stinutinued attempts to cast me aside and go on her merry way tormented me until I was almost crazed. The thought that she wasn't going through the same wrenching pain was eating away at my heart.

I sat up abruptly. The walls of the stateroom were closing in on me, the air shimmering with oppression. A sudden sense of urgency had me on my feet and reaching for my cloak before my mind registered what was happening. All I knew was I couldn’t stay in that place a moment longer. I needed space to roam, time to think, and a solution to my problem.

The long, empty corridor that greeted me outside the stateroom gave the illusion of stretching endlessly in both directions. With barely a moments pause I stalked off down the hall leading away from the more populated areas. I wasn’t fit for company, especially that of the clones.

The loud staccato of my footsteps kept me company as I roamed; the endless echoed beats sounding like one woverover and over in my mind.

{Padmé...Padmé...Padmé...Padmé}

Yes, it always came back to her.


****

A few hours later I probably knew the layout of the ship better than its commander but I was no closer to solving the riddle of my future with Padmé than I had been when I left our quarters.

For thest tst time in ten years, I let my uncertainty take over and considered the very real possibility that I might not triumph. No sooner had that thought crossed my mind than I was overcome with such desolation and despair I had to lean against the nearest wall for support. Breathing became near impossible. My aching throat constricted, closing up with the tears I steadfastly refused to shed. For one dizzying moment I thought I was going to black out under the onslaught of pain.

I’m not sure exactly how long I wallowed in the misery of indecision and doubt. Those minutes are forever lost to me. Upon reflection, all I can remember is the horrible feeling of a crushing weight pressing against my chest, squeezing my heart until I thought it would burst. When next I came back to myself, my feet were moving of their own accord in the direction of the library; in the direction of Padmé.

My thoughts raced with each passing second. I was fully aware that my night with Padmé had hardly been ideal. For gods sake, I had taken her on the floor of a filthy workshop with little skill or finesse and even less consideration. Never mind that she had been ready for me despite her inexperience. I had been in no condition to be gentle or to see that she experienced the same satisfaction that I had.

My pace quickened as I neared my destination and the germ of an idea began to form.

Just as I had wanted Padmé to hurt when I had, now I was intent upon another goal. I wanted her to burn with the same passion and desire that had consumed me from the moment I stopped being just a boy with a dream. I needed her to crave the feel tasttaste of my flesh as I craved hers, under my hands, against my lips, beneath my body. Padmé had no idea of the delights I could show her. But she would very soon, whether she was ready or not.

I smothered the taunting voice that asked why I wanted to virtually repeat the same scenario for which I had just beat myself up over. Only the end result mattered! I could not and would not lose her because of a few niggling qualms.

On the heels of that thought, came the awareness that I didn't really care how it happened just as long as she ended up with me. Once, such an idea would have disturbed me but that was before I was all but forced to take such desperate measures. Padmé herself was the one who had set the course I was being forced to follow, I told myself.

I ruthlessly disregarded the reminder that I had already resorted to mind manipulation, coercion, and intimidation tactics. What was one more dishonorable act? When no answer came to mind, I took the last few steps, stopping short at the library door. The metal door was so shiny I could see my image reflected in its surface. The slightly distorted face staring back was drawn, almost grim, and my eyes seemed to burn from the fire within.

It was the face of a man coming to claim what was his.

This was one battle that Padmé wouldn't win for I held the power to make her respond to my touch no matter how much her stubborn mind resisted. I would use my mastery over her body to break down those barriers she continued to work so hard to shore up.

No more arguments, no more irritating words about right and wrong, duty and responsibility, Jedi and senator. I would not be dissuaded from realizing my dream any longer. Sending the door sliding open with an impatient wave of my hand, I stepped inside.

The time for talking was over.


********************************************************************************


The Gambit


"I love you not only for what you
have made of yourself, but
for what you are making of me."

E.B. Browning


Gods, she was beautiful.

I couldn't stop drinking in the vision of the girl before me. Hairpins long since discarded at my demand, Padmé's brown hair hung loose, a riotous mess of curls that cascaded down to skim the tabletop beneath her bowed back. Hectic color suffused her face, lips were parted in unknowing invitation, and her eyes heavy with the passion I had ruthlessly coaxed from her resistant body. I deeply regretted that my metal appendage lacked the sensory capabilities to feel the silky hair threaded through its unfeeling fingers as I cradled the back of her head.

The sides of her dress bodice hung open, the laces dangling carelessly from my impatient attentions. With her back arched, her barred breasts were forced forward like a decadent offering to some pagan god. It had been an offer I'd only been too happy to accept. Now they were tender and marked, the peaks stiff and moist, from having been ravaged by my hungry mouth.

The tantalizing scent of vanilla rose up from her heated body to fill my nostrils and play havoc with my emotions. I swallowed hard. The sight before me was weakening my resolve to follow through with my plan. The urge to be inside her was threatening to overshadow the very reason for seeking her out.

Only seconds ago the air had been filled with her cries of ‘please, please; the words tumbling past her lips over and over. Now only our jagged breathing could be heard as we both fought to regain control, though each of us for very different reasons. I was there to make her burn for me and that was what I was going to do.
gri grip in her hair tightened and I roughly forced her head up so our eyes were level.wantwanted her to read what was in my soul. I didn’t want there to be any doubt that I was there because we were meant to be together. Brown eyes locked with mine. In that long drawn out moment stolen from time, I let her see everything; all the love and desire, the intensity of my need for her.

She fought it, struggling against the tide with everything she had, but in the end her heart betrayed her. Ultimately, Padmé was unable to keep that telltale answering spark from shining through. The undeniable emotions revealed renewed my hope despite the earlier refusal of my proposal.

It was then I finished working my hand beneath her heavy skirt. Padmé's body jerked against me as I found my target and began a slow circling caress. The soft glow from the surrounding HoloNet screens illuminated Padmé’s delicate features; highlighting eyes grown round with shock and lips that opened to inhale a sharp, startled breath. The stunned look faded slowly only to be replaced by one of surprised arousal.

I kept my touch feather-light, teasing her with the pleasure, giving hehinthint of what was to come. If Tatooine had been for me then this was for Padmé. I kept careful watch, reading her body's responses in the flush of her cheeks, the hitch in her breath, and those soft, feminine mewling cries that ripped a moan from my throat.

Delicate eyelashes fluttered shut while impossibly her back arched further. I foundt I t I couldn't stand not being able to gaze into the warm depths of her brown eyes. The need to be sure that Padmé was not losing herself in the pleasure at the expense of me dictated my threat that she open her eyes or I would stop my ministrations.

It was gratifying to see how quickly she obeyed and I laughed softy in victory. With little preamble, I suddenly plunged two fingers into her wet velvety core forcing a gasp of shock from her. Brown eyes flecked with amber stared back at me as I repeatedly thrust my fingers into her warmth, making sure to stroke that secret spot I knew would drive her insane with want. When her instincts took over and her hips began to move in tandem with the pace I was setting I very nearly lost control.

I spoke to her then in the language I learned from my mother. It has no name that I know of; its origins are so old they've been lost in the wind swept deserts of my birth place. For all that it came from such a harsh environment, it's a language that lends itself to love, whether that love was familial or the kind that lies between lovers. By speaking those alien words, I was able to tell Padmé things I knew she wasn't yet ready to hear. Intimate words of love, declarations and vows never meant to be broken; words of primal intensity that reached all the wild hidden places where secret longings lie.

“Tee’ana et na loska milé tu’et.”

I knew the hypnotizing power they possessed, the spell they were capable of weaving and I used this knowledge ruthlessly. I murmured the words out loud; I whispered them in her head, making the syllables rise and fall in a mesmerizing litany to break down Padmé's learned reticence.

//Ple’ana et kon na kile’ah su nom l’keer//

Padmé threw her head back, no longer impeded by the grip of my metal hand. Through eyes burning with desire and need, I watched her undulate against me, listened to the increased tempo of her breathing and with a groan I bent my head to her breasts once more. Padmé's warm scented flesh was intoxicating and I sucked, bit and kissed in a wild frenzy.

Under the influence of pleasurable sensations, the very taste of Padmé driving me mad, my control slipped and my Force hold keeping her hands pinned to the table behind her evaporated. Padmé's cry as her head hit the hard surface made me cringe. Instantly, I slid my free arm to the small of her back to lift her up, making soothing noises as I inwardly cursed myself for my loss of concentration.

Padmé's fingers began to claw at the table top, the incident already forgotten as I increased my efforts to push her to the edge. Around the fingers that slicked in and out, I could feel her walls begin to contract, squeezing my digits with surprising strength. My own breath was ragged, competing with the harsh gasps that were emanating from the girl I was driving towards a teritering climax.

Suddenly, Padmé cried out, the sound both incredulous and filled with rapture. A rush of wet heat drenched my hand, desperate fingers clutched at my chest, and thighs reflexively clenched under the onslaught of her release. The sight of Padmé writhing against me as the waves of pleasure washed over her was utterly breathtaking. Never had she been further removed from that icily composed stranger wearing the protective mask she used to keep others out. Within my embrace she was a disheveled wanton who responded to my caresses and kisses with an abandon I had rarely seen before and hungered to see again.

Gradually, the violent shudders that shook her body began to fade. Padmé collapsed limply against me, tired and completely sated. At some point her hands had left their frantic hold on my leather vest to tangle themselves in my hair. Her damp forehead was pressed against my throat and her hot moist breath feathered across my flesh, sending chills of unrelieved lust coursing through me anew.

I held her to me, running an unfeeling metal hand up and down the length of her back in a comforting manner. I couldn't resist whispering once more in the language of my childhood.

“Et na kile’ah su bey nom teir.”

Slowly, reluctantly it seemed, she lifted her head up to fix her gaze on mine. Amber flecks swam within the chocolate depths of eyes still glazed from unfamiliar ecstasy. When I brought my hand from between her damp thighs and licked her sweet essence from them another wave of tremors rocked her. To my delight, beneath the ever present scent of vanilla, I detected the sudden rush of liquid heat as her body responded to my carnal act. Under my heated gaze and knowing look her cheeks flamed crimson at her body's betraying reaction.

I smiled to myself. The fact that Padmé had managed to remain so charmingly innocent in the arena of galactic politics never failed to astonish me. I couldn't help but wonder if sheltering their women was particular to the Naboo culture or if it was a side effect of having been the elected ruler for two terms. Whatever the case, her shy, often shocked reactions to anything but the most basic of sexual acts was completely beguiling.

Padmé's stunned silence never broke. With deft hands I straightened her skirt and then laced her bodice back up as if she were a child. When I finifinished I gently grasped her chin, lifting her face upwards. For a long moment, I stared down at her delicate features, noting with arrogant satisfaction the way her breathing remained labored and her eyes still held a glazed look that bespoke of satiated passion. Then with the barest brush of fingertips down the curve of Padmé's soft cheek, I turned away with deliberate callousness and walked away.

I suspect she'll never know what it took from me to leave her there without a word of explanation or a gentlemanly inquiry as to either her physical or emotional state. The overriding fact was I didn't dare linger. I was balancing precariously on the razor's edge between control and surrender. If I hadn't left when I did my resolve would have melted away under the heat of my desire and my inspired plans to wear her down would have been for naught.

It was only when I was well away from the library that I started to laugh, though it was tempered somewhat by my sexually frustrated state. I had a bad feeling it was something I would come to know all too intimately over the next few days as I put the next part of my plan in motion. The only consolation was the knowledge that Padmé would suffer right along with me.

I glanced back over my shoulder in the direction of the library. Padmé didn't know it yet but I was one step closer to winning the challenge she had unwittingly thrown down at dinner. For just a second, I almost felt sorry for her.


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TBC
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