The End Justifies the Means

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Knight Takes Queen


“Had we but world enough, and time,
This coyness, Lady, were no crime.”

Andrew Marvel


One step forward, two steps back.

It was like a dance, my pursuit of Padmé, a strange and exhausting dance with a complicated pattern of movements no rational being could follow without losing his mind. Are women taught those intricate steps from the moment they can walk? Or is it some mysterious feminine instinct that whispers the instructions ieir eir ear? Of only one thing can I be certain; they are very, very good at it.

Men may initiate the dance but I believe it’s the women who lead more often than not. They’d like us to think we wield the control but it is they that truly have the power. Expertly they maneuver us around in those circles within circles, maintaining a delicate balance between intimate contact and flirtatious feints; of coy withdrawals and demure looks cast through downcast eyes. The delicious feel of the feminine form in our arms keeps us moving in sync, motivating us with the promise of pleasures to come; promises that may or may not be kept.

The dizzying tempo rarely slows, twirling and spinning, moving faster and faster until the faces in the crowd meld into one blurred image and you would give anything to stop - to just stop and breathe. There are only so many turns around the ballroom floor a man can take before he’s finally forced to call a halt to the music.

When I saw Padmé had activated the lock on her cabin door as if nothing had changed, as if the events of the afternoon had never happened, as if she had never admitted she wanted me, as if she hadn’t been about to give in; I knew our dance had gone on long enough.

The code panel’s red light mocked me, its slow, steady blink a taunting visual - a cruel jibe telling me I was being shut out, pushed away yet again. Push-pull, push-pull, this emotional tug of war had to stop. I’d been under the impression she’d finally come to accept that nothing would keep me from her but I’d obviously underestimated the depth of her awareness.

Initially, I’d been amused to realize Padmé thought a coded lock could stop me from entering her room. Whether she was going to sleep, to change clothes, or attend to her hair, she never neglected to secure the door behind her. The almost frantic way she tapped in the code belied the studied casualness she tried to affect and on several occasions I’d had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing out loud at her little performance.

She was so incredibly trusting even after all I’d put her through.

Didn’t she realize I could feel the constant conflict raging within her; the longing to give in warring with her sense of duty and decency? In order to cope with her traitorous desires, Padmé let herself labor under the misguided belief she was protecting herself by trying to keep me at a distance, utterly refusing to recognize the truth, that she was afraid to face temptation; afraid if confronted in such an intimate setting her body would betray her.

Her fear was justified; her body would turn against her, just as it had done on every occasion where I’d taken her in my arms.

The intelligent and widely respected senator who’d courageously faced down some of the most despicable politicians in the senate, who had refused to back down from villains like Nute Gunray, lacked that innate ability to honestly examine her own motivating behavior in matters of the heart. If there was a galactic crisis nobody could be more relied upon to remain level-headed and calm but when it came to her personal life it was a different story entirely.

I didn’t dare examine my theory too closely. Admitting to myself that I was almost solely responsible for her tumultuous frame of mind would’ve led me to places I couldn’t go, not if I wanted to continue on the path I’d chosen when I was nine. Or had the path chosen me?

I shrugged off that thought. It hardly mattered. The self-control Padmé prized so highly had slipped again that afternoon and she’d been on the verge of succumbing. The shock and embarrassment at being caught caressing me while I’d slept had knocked her further off balance and she’d been teetering on the edge of surrender. I knew in my heart if I’d had just a little more time I would’ve had my ‘yes’. In fact I was absolutely sure of it.

An angry grumble of discontent rose from my chest. I could still see the surrender darkening those beautiful eyes seconds before we were interrupted by that damned message from my Master. If I hadn’t known any better, I might’ve suspected Obi Wan of engineering the ill-timed summons. But even Jedi Knights have their limits.

My mouth quirked into a half smile which faded almost immediately. Padmé could be so obtuse at times. There was one reason, and one reason only as to why I hadn’t availed myself of my mechanical skills to enter her room uninvited. And that was simply because it had suited me not to disillusion her, to not let her know how vulnerable she really was.

Perhaps that had been a miscalculation on my part. Maybe if I had gone to her that first night I would’ve been spared having to endure this unnatural state of sexual frustration or of having to stand idly by while Padmé put on that maddening display with Benor. One thing was sure, if she’d pulled that little stunt under those changed circumstances our rendezvous in the alcove would’ve ended far differently.

The heart-stopping visual of taking Padmé against the hard metal wall filled my head. I could so easily imagine the feel of her body writhing against mine, her fingers digging into the muscles of my back, her gasps of pleasure as I plundered her body again and again. In an instant I knew when the time came, I would have her against the nearest wall – like I would’ve done had it not been for Obi Wan’s insistence on an immediate conference. He’d shown a remarkable lack of appreciation for the patience he was always going on and on about.

“Typical.” I muttered under my breath.

Memories of what my Master had unwittingly interrupted assailed me and I swallowed hard as a fresh wave of desire ran through me, warming my blood like the effects of some potent and intoxicating liquor. I closed my eyes under the barrage of erotic recollections that made my body harden with startling speed. Padmé had come to me despite the cruel things my anger had driven me to say.

Warmth curled in the pit of my stomach. The unexpected feel of fingertips gently brushing over the flesh of my abdomen and the delicate caress of a small hand sliding inside the opening of my loosened tunic had roused me from my sleep. Only my Jedi training had kept me from giving away my surprise at finding Padmé kneeling at my side, her eyes glowing with unfettered desire as they intently followed the path her hand was traveling.

Beneath lowered lashes I’d watched her, taking in the uneven breathing through softly parted lips, the hectic color of her cheeks and the way her chest rose and fell in rapid succession. It was the first time she’d initiated such contact without being prompted by some action on my part. The fact that it hadn’t been wrung out of her at my instigation made it all the more sweet.

{Padmé}

I wasn’t entirely sure whether I actually spoke her name out loud or if it merely sounded in my head. I pressed a hand to the door separating us, concentrating on the ebb and flow of her Force signature as it blanketed me, soothing my ragged nerves but in no way negating the powerful hunger gnawing away at my insides.

Padmé had been just seconds away from capitulation when that mealy-mouthed officer interrupted with the summons from Obi Wan. Our tentative connection, that precarious bond forged by my sweat and tears, by my love, had broken. With insulting speed, she’d backed away from me as if I were a loathsome Hutt, her earlier admittance that she wanted me seemingly forgotten. The look that came to her eyes when she realized what she’d almost admitted sent a quiver of anger shooting through me. Why wouldn’t she just submit?

To add insult to injury, I’d sensed her yearning hope that my Master had returned to the ship. Her human shield, I thought contemptuously. She actually thought the supposed arrival of Obi Wan changed things, meant that everything was over? As if I’d ever let us be over, I scoffed, and with good reason.

Just as I’d known would happen, her body turned traitor to her mind for when I’d kissed her goodbye, she responded like a woman starved. It had been like holding a live flame in my arms, a flame that threatened to burn me from the inside out. Padmé had been as caught up in the moment as I, for once uncaring of all those excuses she was so fond of trotting out like much beloved children. Her eyes had mirrored the promise of more to come and I had pressed the issue further.

{Tee'ana su kom tiya, Padmé?}

And she had said ‘yes’ in a breathy voice that had sent my pulse soaring. No matter that she hadn’t really understood the words. I knew she’d understood the meaning behind them and she’d replied instantaneously, with no hesitation. The certainty in her voice had spoken volumes.

Everything had changed with that one word from her lips. Yet there I was at her door like some street level Coruscant scum begging for scraps from his betters. Several vile curses came to mind and I wasn’t hesitant at where I directed them.

It wasn’t until the jolt of pain shot through my arm, the aftershock reverberating through muscle and bone, that I realized my fist had impacted with the unforgiving surface of the wall, missing the panel by centimeters. I felt curiously numb as if my ability to feel pain was diminished in the face of Padmé’s continued rebelliousness and her calculated public flirtation with Benor.

A muscle in my cheek worked furiously. I glared back at the methodically winking red light as if it alone were to blame for my misfortune. I was sick to death of moving one step forward only to be forced two steps back. Any humor I’d harbored for Padmé’s naïve belief in the sanctity of her cabin and her misguided faith in the coded lock vanished like a Corellian from an honest sabaac game. Standing outside her door, theoretically barred from her room – from her - it was no longer remotely humorous by any stretch of the imagination.

It hadn’t been that long ago I’d told her I’d given up trying to argue with her. What a bold faced lie that had been. Her willingness to defy the Council to rescue Obi Wan, her stubborn refusal to back down from her pacifist stance in the face of numerous assassination attempts, and the courage she’d shown in turning down Dooku’s offer were reactions I understood and admired. But her continued defiance of what I wanted, what I knew was best for us, was incomprehensible and not something I was willing to stomach a minute longer.

Deft fingers flew over the keypad, easily finding the required pattern of numbers needed to override the security code meant to keep me from Padmé’s inner sanctum. If I had to keep her a prisoner in her cabin until she agreed to be my wife, I would do it, I thought grimly. With each touch on the keypad I felt time slipping through my fingers, all the lost opportunities rising up to worry my mind. I pushed past the weariness, cresting the hill to slide down the side of temptation where I could wallow in wicked sin.

The panel gave a low beep. The light changed from red to green and then the door was silently sliding open to reveal a room cloaked in the night cycle’s dim light. I paused, taking a moment to just savor the faint and tantalizing scent she wore as it wafted by in the door’s wake. A brief moment of unfamiliar contentment came over me while I listened to the sound of Padmé’s soft rhythmic breathing. It called to me, enticing me to move closer. Without bothering to secure the door behind me, I crossed the threshold and stalked towards the bed where Padmé lay oblivious to the predator in her room – a predator who had come to claim what was his.

I stopped short at the side of her bed and just watched her sleep, letting the ache deep within me grow stronger and stronger. Time seemed to sway and shift and for a moment I imagined if I looked up I would find we were back in her bedroom on Coruscant. An icy shiver skittered down my spine at the frightening memory. I’d been so close to losing her. If I had been just a few seconds later the poisonous sting of the kouhuns would have stolen her from me forever.

With a flash of unwanted insight, I considered the unwelcome thought that perhaps I was a bigger threat to her than those creatures had ever been. My insides clenched and churned and then I crashed my shields down, forcing that ridiculous idea away. I would never harm Padmé. I would protect her from anything and anybody, be it assassin or S

Protect her like you did on Tatooine? An evil voice mocked. Impatiently, I brushed the disturbing truth of those words aside only to have the blood freeze in my veins.

“No matter how hard you try not to, you will lose her.” A ghostly voice murmured on a sigh.

My hand automatically reached for my absent weapon, my entire body stiffening at the perceived threat. I knew no one was there, I couldn’t detect any other presences through the Force….yet the voice had been so real. Straining my ears, I could detect nog mog more than the faint drone of the ship’s engines and gradually I relaxed the battle stance my body had assumed like second nature.

Fear, it had been nothing more than my fear of failing. It was always hovering nearby, just waiting to pounce at the first sign of weakness. Sometimes I found myself wondering if it wouldn’t just be easier to give into it completely.

A low complaining whimper drew my attention back to Padmé. Her head jerked to the side as if she were pulling away from something in her dreams and her hand snagged at the sheet like I wanted it to do against my skin. A slender arm wrapped itself around her abdomen, an instinctive act of protection from whatever disturbed her slumber.

Touch her, the darkness within urged. Soothe her anxiety away. Take the choice out of her hands. Comfort her, it hissed. Only the way it said ‘comfort’ for some reason made my skin crawl with revulsion.

I tried to shake off my sudden unease. Nevertheless, indecisiveness held me immobile as I continued to gaze down at Padmé. The restless nature of her slumber was evident by the bedclothes that lay in a tangled heap about her feet and I experienced an unexpected twinge of guilt at the sight. The murky darkness couldn’t quite hide either the tired smudges beneath her eyes or the various faded bruises my fingers had left on her arms.

{Don't make me hurt you}

The breath caught in my throat as it tightened, the tender lining constricting, burning with bitter acid. I looked away from those ugly reminders of how far I was willing to go to obtain my heart and concentrated instead on the sleep warmed curves clad in shimmersilk revealed for my eyes. No longer constrained by the uncomfortable sensations inspired by the dark, the familiar hunger roared back to life like a beast abruptly awakened. Desire thrummed loudly in my veins as my avid gaze traveled with slow deliberation from the outlined curve of her hip, over the gentle swell of her breasts, to one small hand now curled so innocently on the pillow by the side of her head.

The murky light played tricks on my eyes, casting shadows across her delicate features and turning her from the adult she was back to the fourteen year old girl she’d been. I almost turned and left her then; my concern for her welfare temporarily gaining the upper hand. But when was I ever one to ignore a gods given opportunity? I’m nothing if not predictable, at least when it came to my weakness for Padmé.

The dark voice I seemed to be listening to more and more often murmured louder, its tone insinuating in my ear like the hiss of a slithering serpent. It overrode any objections before they could form into cohesive thought or worse, action.

Look at her, the voice rasped, so vulnerable, so sweet and so very, very tempting. She belongs to you; she’s always belonged to you. After what she’s put you through with that captain, don’t you deserve this?

{Yours, Anakin. Always yours}

“Yes.” I whispered aloud, drawing the one syllable word out until it resembled the voice in my head that was always urging me on.

‘Always yours.’ Those had been her very words and she couldn’t just take them back as if they’d never been said. I wouldn’t let her. It wasn’t fair to expect me to do so!

I sat down on the bed and carefully settled myself against the padded headboard. My eyes felt as if they were burning in their sockets as they roved over the sultry curves on display, the flawless creamy skin, and the glorious profusion of chocolate curls spilling over her shoulders and pillow. My heart flipped at the erotic sight and the last vestiges of hesitation melted away.

It was a hand shaking with impossible need that reached out to caress her cheek. Sleep would have to wait for us both. It was time to settle the matter that lay between us once and for all.


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Checkmate


"I wooed thee with my sword,
And won thy love, doing thee injuries;
But I will wed thee in another key…"

William Shakespeare


//Anakin//

A strangled moan escaped me, my whispered name resounding through the Force, caressing my mind with a gentle hand. It was the first time Padmé had voluntarily used our connection to speak to me. I lifted my head from where my lips and tongue had been soothing the broken skin at the base of her throat. My stomach was slick from the unexpected climax my savage love bite had pulled from her untutored body moments earlier. The implications of her response sent a tremor of need and lust spiraling downwards straight to my throbbing groin.

Padmé’s eyelids fluttered shut under the weight of impending surrender. A soft sigh sounded and her head dipped down as if in defeated prayer. When next she looked up there was a desperate, almost hysterical gleam lighting the brown depths of her eyes. Our gazes held, an unspoken message passing between us, and then her shaking hands moved to take possession of my Padawan braid and ponytail in a tight grip.

There were so many emotions reflected back at me as I drowned in her liquid gaze; regret, arousal, love, and a type of resigned acceptance. The deep and passionate love I felt for her took my breath away and robbed me of every coherent thought but one. Padmé was mine, truly mine.

Using her hold in my hair as leverage she slid her body up, the silky material of her gown rubbing sensuously over my barred chest, hardening my nipples and more. Padmé tugged my head back sharpl she she was looking down on my face. The new position meant that my hardened arousal was poised at her entrance, something that would be difficult to ignore for long.

Warm hands slid to cradle either side of my head. A sad but sweet smile played on her lips as her eyes wandered over the planes of my face made stark by want. She was so beautiful with her hair in wild disarray and her eyes dark with ardor. I could feel every tremble; every labored breath of her body like it was my own.

And then she spoke.

To my shock and growing delight she used the language of my childhood, sounding as if she had spoken it all of her life.

“Tee’ana et na loska milé tu’et.” Padmé said in a low voice raw with emotion, ripping away all of my defenses and stripping me of any semblance of restraint or control.

She had no idea of the blatant sexuality those words held and her innocent use of them was my undoing.

It was a growl of pure lust that roared up from my lungs, hunger and desire exploding in my chest, igniting my veins with liquid fire. The wine-sweet taste of triumph chased the last lingering remnants of possible failure from my tongue. My entire body shook with the concerted effort it took to hold back for the few seconds necessary to respond. A flash of fear and apprehension mixed with excitement leapt into her chocolate eyes.

"Bey ni ma'hal su no'le re'tá." I hissed through tightly clenched teeth and then violently surged upwards; plunging into her tight, wet core, sheathing myself deep inside, driving Padmé back against the wall with brutal force.

{Tell me you want this. Tell me you want this as much as I do}

(Yes, please}

It had been just over a week but it felt like a lifetime since I was cradled within her tight walls. The brazen rock of her hips, the wanton invitation, incited me to set a punishing but exquisite pace. I crushed her against the wall, driving myself into her core, invading her body relentlessly. Every hard thrust sent her back into the wall, savage want pushing aside all gentleness. The needy moans of pleasure torn from her were music to my ears and I answered with my own low hungry moans.

A growing ecstasy, intense and raw, sang along every nerve within my body. It was heaven, it was bliss - it was everything I ever wanted to feel or be. It was a joyous sense of belonging that I hadn’t felt since leaving home all those years ago. I watched Padmé lose herself in the rapture of our bodies moving together in the dance to which I had no desire to ever put a stop. Every expression that flitted across her face fed the insatiable animal that needed to take everything from her and give everything of me back.

Cheeks flushed, lips swollen and red from my kisses and the sweet breath that came out in harsh little puffs of air; all completed the beautiful scene of abandonment before me. I was filled with a indescribable sense of possessive pride, of satisfaction at the sight. I was responsible for her wanton pleasure, Anakin, the slave from Tatooine.

A flicker of unease sizzled along my spine. I’d always hated the fact I had been a slave, a possession, that I had been owned like an inanimate object. Yet suddenly I knew that Padmé owned me, body and soul, whether she knew it or not. She’d possessed me the moment she walked into Watto’s shop and even if I wanted to, there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. A wave of almost peaceful acceptance washed over me with that realization. Padmé was my master and I was hers.

A deep guttural noise sounded from the back of my throat and then I drove my mouth into hers hard, crushing her softness, slanting my lips across hers, and devouring her very breath. I kissed her with a brutal thoroughness that pulled muffled cries of passion from her and, through it all, she responded in kind. My tongue swept across the sweet interior of her mouth, delving and plunging, meeting and mating with Padmé’s as we each tried to draw the other just a little bit closer.

I wanted everything, all of her. I wanted that piece of herself she’d always held back from me despite her claims of love. Padmé’s mewling helpless cries were driving me mad, building the heat and hunger to an unbearable degree. I reveled in the sweet taste of victory. She had yielded to me and was meeting every nibble, every caress, every tongue flicker, measure for measure.

Dragging my lips away, I tasted the salty dampness of her heated skin as I moved in a frenzy over the firm line of her jaw and down her arched neck. I savored every centimeter of warm flesh using my teeth, lips and tongue like a sexual weapon in order to take her higher. The sound of my name repeated between harsh breaths like an incantation burned its way into my heart. I was determined to hear her scream with pleasure, to feel her body stiffen and bow against mine as she rode out the crashing waves of her climax.

Padmé’s sharp teeth nipped at my ear lobe, her hot breath sent shudders down my spine. I felt her inner muscles clench around me and knew it was somehow both too soon and not soon enough. The heady scent of arousal filled my senses, the sound our bodies made fueled the raging inferno and it was all I could do to stop myself from taking the action my body was screaming out for.

The rasp of her nightgown against my skin was no longer pleasurable. I needed to feel her naked flesh against me, to feel the friction of our sweat slicked skin as Padmé undulated against and around me. I forced her arms up so I could divest her of the offending garment, yanking the gown over her head to reveal taut breasts that bounced with the force of my every thrust. A whispered ‘please’ rushed past Padmé’s lips and I complied, capturing one puckered nipple in my mouth, using my tongue and teeth to torment her.

The taste of her was like sunshine and air, like fresh rain on green grass, like a spring breeze that held an illusive hint of honey and vanilla. I was ravenous for her and only the suckling of her heated flesh could satisfy my cravings.

Padmé’s frenzied responses to our wild mating inflamed me. Her nails were raking my shoulders and back and when she could get close enough her mouth roamed over my face and neck to plant hot, wet kisses and licks, the heat of her breath against my skin overwhelming me. The sensations her mouth and tongue invoked spoke of all the pent up hunger and frustration we had been forced to endure.

This was the response I’d known she was capable of, that I’d known she would give me if I never relented in my pursuit.

//Den il na kile’ah su nom teir//

I whispered the ancient words in her head, letting them mesmerize and seduce her further. One day I might tell her what they meant but until that time I enjoyed the mystery, the power that the secret words held.

The intimate center of her body began to contract more insistently, tightening around me in an intoxicating rhythm I wished could go on forever and ever. I slowed the tempo trying to delay the moment as long as possible. Padmé was begging to be shattered, her hands pulling at my hair and neck imploringly. Gods, I loved to hear her beg me for her release. It was in every dream, every fantasy I’d ever had. The words I’d spoken to her in the meadow when I’d held her pinned beneath me had been truer than I’d ever realized.

Padmé was precariously close to the edge and I wanted to watch her fall, to come undone while I continued to pump inside her tight, wet depths. I pulled her legs up higher at my sides, angling every stroke to go deeper than the last. If I could have managed it, I would have crawled inside her, my need for her was that intense. Against me her body began to tremble and her breathing changed, coming in short, shallow gasps, which were almost sobs. I knew I couldn’t keep her balancing on the razor’s edge any longer.

"Now, Padmé, I want to watch you." I demanded roughly, giving her no choice in the matter as I hit her secret spot repeatedly.

On cue, her muscles contracted violently, working furiously to milk me with delicious pressure. Padmé shuddered and thrashed, her screams of pleasure tumbling from her lips as she gave herself over to the throws of rapture. The effort of holding myself in check drew forth beads of moisture that trickled down my face and stung my eyes.

With a last cry of my name, she collapsed against me, her arms wound tightly about my neck and her damp face hidden in the crook of my shoulder. Padmé was holding on for dear life as my own release reached its pinnacle with such force my vision tunneled and for a moment I saw a field of stars.

We fell back against the wall as I pounded into her willing flesh with bruising force. Padmé, my enchantress, drew me in, sucking me down into the whirling vortex of my climax where it was my turn to shatter. I cried Padmé’s name in a voice so hoarse with passion it was unrecognizable to my own ears. There was a rush of heat and then I was losing myself in the primal satisfaction of spilling my hot seed into her core as I climaxed harder than I’d ever done in my life.

Just as I thought it was over, Padmé surprised me by suddenly convulsing again, her body jerking as it instinctively worked to draw every last drop from me. Heavy strands of hair stuck to her glistening face while eyes glazed and unfocused bore into mine. Then Padmé gave one last cry and I felt the sharp bite of her nails down my chest as she reflexively sought purchase in an effort to hold onto consciousness. Shuddering tremors continued to sweep through her slender frame and then she once more sank tiredly against me.

Dizziness hit me like a hot, heavy wave and I flung my head back, sucking in deep breaths of air, trying to make up in a few seconds for what seemed like a lifetime’s deprivation. Both of us were still shaking from our explosive coupling when Padmé groggily raised her head. I didn’t look down into her upturned face for fear the dizziness might return but I felt her eyes stroke my face like a physical touch.

Our labored breathing and the pounding of my heart pumping blood at a furious pace roared in my ears. A stinging throb started up from where Padmé had used my chest like a scratching post and I winced. I wasn’t sure if it was blood or sweat that was beginning a slow slide from the painful furrow and I didn’t care. Love bites and scratches were like badges of honor and I…..

{Oh, gods...}

All thoughts dissolved in a sudden breath-stopping moment, disappearing like smoke in the wind. Padmé’s warm tongue lapped gently at the abraded flesh, working the pointed tip to soothe the wound as I had done to the one I’d inflicted upon her. The muscles in my chest clenched and bunched beneath the touch of her mouth and the small smooth hands gliding with shy sensuality over my slick skin.

It was too much and not enough, it never was with Padmé, and a sound half way between a groan and a growl sounded from me. I whispered her name with awed wonder and wrapped my arms around her, holding her close; suddenly afraid if I didn’t hold on tight enough she would disappear and this would all turn out to be a dream.

//Mine, Padmé. Never forget that//

On one level at least, I lost the fight. A tired sigh accompanied the warm exhalation of air that tickled across my chest and seconds later Padmé went limp in my arms as sleep overtook her. Despite my own exhaustion I continued to stand there, too weak to move away from the wall supporting us both without fear of collapse. My fingers played in her tangled hair, stroking the silky cloud, smoothing it down so it blanketed her back.

I smiled against her head before placing a kiss at her crown. Inhaling the fragrance that clung to her hair and skin, letting it chase the things that lurked in my head back to their corners, the thought crossed my mind that if it weren’t for the promise of more to come, I could have died then a happy and contented man.

//I love you//

Padmé stirred against me, the cool air of the cabin sending a delicate shiver through her and I had to fight off my own chill as the sheen of sweat from our exertions rapidly dried. Gathering my strength, I carried the sleeping girl to the bed we’d abandoned at my whim and carefully laid her down before slipping in next to her.

I hadn’t actually lain with Padmé since waking next to her on the garage floor and I intended to savor every moment. I pulled her unresisting body into mine, wrapping an arm around her waist, sliding my hand over the curve of her hip to spread my palm flat against the soft skin of her belly. The comforting sense of the ‘rightness’ of it all lulled me, luring me closer to the edge of sleep while my body conformed to Padmé’s soft contours. I rested my chin on top of the head tucked beneath and closed my eyes, enjoying the silky texture of her hair rubbing against my skin.

The future stirred, giving the gift of a promise.

{Padmé...say you'll marry me}

When next we woke she would say yes. I knew it. I tasted it. I held it in my hands and pressed it to the beating heart I had given over to Padmé for safekeeping ten years previous.

{Yes, Anakin, I will}


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A Dangerous Interlude


“Can you breathe, my Princess?
I know you cannot.
You are overwhelmed
By the most wicked of Thoughts,
On fire with carnal ravage.”

Greg Phillips


Padmé was nowhere to be found and the edges of my control were rapidly fraying like a banner in a Tatooine sandstorm. Soon there would be nothing left but my tattered and faded remains fluttering in the hot wind.

I was sure I’d been to every conceivable place aboard the Coruscant’s Pride where she could possibly be skulking. I’d checked and rechecked the stateroom, the library, I’d even been to the bridge – nothing! I was growing increasingly impatient and edgy, prowling the ship like a restless animal too long caged. I couldn’t help but worry that she might be on the verge of changing her mind, that ultimately she still might reject me despite her acceptance of my suit. Why should I have supposed that once I’d secured Padmé’s acceptance my mind could be put at ease? Resentment flared. I was not used to being so unsure of myself, so uncertain, and I found myself laying the blame for my unnerving state at the cause’s door.

My renewed insecurities were exacerbated by the unwelcome change in our present circumstances. The situation I’d feared for three days had finally come to pass, Obi Wan had returned and I no longer had exclusive rights to Padmé. And not only that, further intimacy was damn near impossible with a Jedi Knight breathing down my neck. His intrusive presence had already severely reduced our alone time, and this in turn threatened to compromise my ability to maintain the level of influence I held over her. That Padmé was bothered by Obi Wan’s suspicions was obvious and her innate honest nature seemed all too likely to rebel against the necessary lies we would be forced to live. This made it imperative that I keep a close eye on her until after we were safely wed.

Obi Wan’s stern visage floated before me. In my mind’s eye, I saw him, arms folded across his chest and the all too familiar look on his face that spoke of long suffering from dealing with the trials and tribulations of his difficult Padawan. I’d seen that face almost everyday for the past ten years and it outnumbered by far the expressions of approval I secretly longed for. Obi Wan was the closest I’d ever come to having a father. Wasn’t it natural for the son to defy the father from time to time? You would think he could be a little more understanding, goaded the ever present voice in my head.

I ground my teeth together in frustration. Why was it that my Master’s name seemed to crop up every time something went wrong in my life? He was the one holding me back, the one who told the Council I wasn’t ready for my trials, the one who had told me that my vision foretelling of my mother’s murder was just “a dream”. And now he was interfering between me and Padmé. Would she still see Obi Wan as her shield? Was she at that very moment planning on using him as her last chance to avoid keeping her promise? My stomach heaved at the hideous thought and I was glad I’d eaten little at my last meal.

The muffled echoes of marching feet sounded like distant thunder in the long corridor. The increase in troop activity had coincided with Obi Wan’s return but their numbers were still far smaller than what could be found on the other remaining ships. I viciously kicked an imaginary stone out of my way, sending a lone ensign scurrying nervously about his business. I stared after him, an expression of discontent washing over my face. It didn’t help matters that I hadn’t seen her since we’d lunched together - since all three of us had lunched together, I amended with a grimace.

My lips twisted at the memory. The strained atmosphere had hardly lent itself to eating but we’d made a valiant effort for Obi Wan’s benefit. Neither of us had much of an appetite, which was surprising really when you conred red the amount of energy we’d expended in the previous twenty four hours. The task of appearing normal had been made even more difficult by the constant reminder of the forbidden that lay right in front of us.

It was not easy keeping the satisfied smirk off my face or the rosy glow of embarrassment from Padmé’s cheeks while we shared a meal with my Master at the very dining table where, at my instigation, the morning meal had ended in a passionate lovemaking session.

We’d barely been half way through breakfast when I impetuously decided the table top could be used for other, more interesting activities. With an impatient sweep of one arm, I’d sent the mostly full plates and glasses to the floor, startling Padmé, who jumped up, her face reflecting her uncomprehending bemusement at my reckless action.

Remembered humor quirked the corners of my mouth into a semblance of a smile. Padmé had been prudishly shocked at both the timing and the fact that, despite our fierce and frequent couplings throughout the night, my ardor could still be raging unabated.

“But Anakin, it is eight in the morning!” She protested with the air of a bewildered innocent. Her face was a study in outraged sensibility as she tried unsuccessfully to bat my hands away.

I snorted in amusement at her naiveté; as if I would allow the time of day to dictate where and when we could love.

“It’s nighttime somewhere in the universe.” I answered with a wicked grin.

Seconds later, with all impediments flung to the floor, my eager hands had finally succeeded in overcoming her half-hearted struggles and I lifted her by her waist to sit at the table’s edge.

“Someday,” Padmé added rather breathlessly as I pushed the hem of her nightgown up her thighs and my lips began a slow exploration of the delicate skin below her jaw. “You will have to tell me what exactly you have against the bed.”

After that there were no more intelligible words uttered from her that weren’t either vocal entreaties to the gods or the calling of my name.

Thank the Force the service droid had been quick to clear the mess. By the time of Obi Wan’s unexpected arrival – I still wasn’t quite sure how I’d failed to detect him before he walked in on the middle of my meditation - all incriminating and difficult to explain evidence had long since been removed. Only the delightful memories remained to warm my heart and make Padmé fidget uncomfortably in her chair under Obi Wan’s increasingly perplexed gaze. Padmé’s discomfort brought out the devil in me and whenever my Master wasn’t looking, I would shoot her the lewdest, most suggestive looks possible.

My shin still throbbed painfully from where she’d kicked me one too many times to count, first in warning and then in pay back for my offhand comment that the table seemed rather wobbly. But it had been worth the bruise just to watch her struggle to maintain polite conversation while erotic memories played out in her head.

I drew a deep breath as a rush of need sluiced through me. The blood in my veins instantly quickened and my heart began a furious staccato pounding. I shrugged my shoulders in irritation, my clothes suddenly felt too small; the normally comfortable material seeming unpleasantly restrictive as if I had gone through another growth spurt in the space of a few seconds.

It was a new experience for me, this rampant feeling of commingled lust and love, this burning passion that raged in my heart and mind. Never had I desired anyone the way I desired Padmé. The constant want and need never seemed to wane, never seemed to be assuaged. All it took was a glance, a soft smile, the sound of her musical laughter and arousal would hit me with all the force of an attacking gundark. And afterwards, when I should’ve been unconscious from the intense pleasure, impossibly I would feel the unmistakable stirrings of need once more.

I simply couldn’t get enough of her and I wouldn’t have it any other way, I considered, before letting my mind turn back to the pressing matter at hand. Where was she?

It had been immediately after our rather disturbing meal that Padmé had pulled her disappearing act. Obi Wan accepted her ever ready excuse of urgent senatorial business without question. In fact there’d been a decided air of relief about him at her impending absence and in light of the earlier heated exchange between the senator and the Jedi, it was hardly surprising.

A wide smile laced with amusement and just a little self-righteous spite creased my face as I relived the unforgettable memory of seeing my Master finally meet his match. Impatience and arrogance may have been my problems but stubbornness and the need to rigidly follow protocol was Obi Wan’s.

Padmé’s adamant insistence that she be allowed to return immediately to Naboo had not been received favorably. Recognizing the signs indicating the irresistible force was about to meet the immovable object, I wisely stepped back from the impending fray. Standing just behind my Master, I listened with poorly disguised glee while Padmé argued for almost a half hour with the increasingly irritated Jedi Knight. Several times she caught me rolling my eyes at her behind Obi Wan’s back and she would shoot me a silent warning without missing a beat. The words ‘behave’ were as clear and unmistakable as if she’d said them aloud.

Their courteous but stilted debate continued on, each stubbornly refusing to come to terms, until Padmé was finally forced to use her political pull. Her threat to take the matter up with the chancellor via the Holonet was her trump sabaac card and it forced Obi Wan’s hand beautifully. The Jedi Order had no real jurisdiction over Padmé, or any senator for that matter, but there was still the original mandate that was meant to protect her from further assassination attempts to be considered. We’d both been counting on that very order given to the Jedi Council by the chancellor himself to push Obi Wan into the direction we wanted and we weren’t disappointed.

My master spoke slowly, choosing the words acknowledging his defeat with the utmost care. Displeasure at having his authority usurped radiated from every pore and shone in every disapproving line of his face and body.

"I'm afraid you will not be able to travel alone. The original order from the chancellor still stands and until I hear otherwise, milady, you are still under the protection of the Jedi."

My entire body tensed in anticipation as I waited for his next words.

"Anakin will escort you home safely and then return immediately to Coruscant." He said with uncharacteristic ill grace.

It was clear from both his sour expression and tone that it wasn’t what he wanted but faced with the fact that Padmé was a free citizen, and one with her own ship on hand, he didn’t have much choice - especially seeing as there was no one else capable or available for the assignment. The ranks of the Jedi Order had suffered a devastating loss on Geonosis and with war declared, no knight could be spared to play protector to a senator from a small planet. But I was still a Padawan and therefore the lowly but necessary duty automatically fell to me.

If we didn’t give Obi Wan cause to change his mind.

To my ears, Padmé’s polite acquiescence held just the right note of grudging acceptance and detachment. A little too convincing for my frame of mind but I was hardly in the position to protest. After a long moment in which Obi Wan seemed to be weighing her words for sincerity, he gave a bow that was so curt it bordered on rude. I’d had to work quickly to disguise the flair of anger that lit my eyes at the perceived insult. None of which made the meal that followed any less tense. Still, she didn’t have to leave without even a backward glance, I grumbled sullenly to myself.

The rest of my afternoon had been spent in mind numbingly boring, and pointless in my unasked for opinion, lessons that I’d done a thousand times before. I glumly imagined the Jedi had been boring their Padawans in much the same manner for eons. The words ‘tradition’ and ‘torture’ were rapidly becoming synonymous to my way of thinking.

Hours passed as I was put through my paces with exacting precision; hours that I desperately wanted to be spending with Padmé. It had taken every last ounce of concentration to keep my impatience from getting the better of me. I knew, as did Padmé, that we had to remain above suspicion if the concession she had fought for and won was to stand. Even so, I chaffed at being kept from her, resenting deeply every single second denied.

It was only when urgent matters on the bridge arose that I was fin all allowed to escape, and even then it was only under the misleading supposition that I was going to practice my lightsaber drills. But following through with the exercises was the furthest thing from my mind as I made my getaway. I had no intention of doing anything other than finding Padmé and reassuring myself that all was well. Our secret betrothal was stilr tor too new for me to be entirely comfortable with letting her out of my sight for long. Gods, I would breathe so much easier once the vows were said.

I glared at the empty stretch of corridor I found myself in.

Where in Sith’s hell was she?!

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TBC
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