The End Justifies the Means

TITLE: The End Justifies the Means
AUTHOR: KellyB aka Pagan
PAIRINGS: Anakin and Padmé
DATE: Winter/Summer 2003
SUMMARY: This is a companion piece to my fic 'Succumb'. If you haven't read that one, it's suggested you do so before reading this. This is Anakin's POV of some of the key scenes in 'Succumb' and a few new ones that Padmé didn’t go into detail over. It is a darker take on Anakin's courtship of Padmé.
TIME PERIOD: AOTC and slightly beyond to Revenge of the Sith.
TYPE: Romance, erotica, seduction, heaps o'angst.
RATING: Ranges from R to NC-17.
WARNINGS: If you want to read a Disneyfied story of Anakin and Padmé, stop reading NOW! This story focuses on the unhealthy aspect of their relationship. Namely, that Anakin has a rather unhealthy fixation on Padmé. There's a bit of mental coercion, obsession, aggressive seduction, and sex. If you are easily offended – stay the heck away.
DISCLAIMER: I'm just a simple woman trying to make my way in the universe. I intend no infringement on the Lucasfilm characters, situations, or storylines. I'm making absolutely NO money off of this so suing would really be pointless, George dear. This rendering is merely for the titillation of rabid Star Wars fans like me who have WAY too much time on their hands. Bless us one and all.
CRITIQUE: Constructive criticism and comments welcomed - I’ll hear whatever you have to say. Please respond to kellyb701@hotmail.com
ARCHIVE: Sure, just let me know where so I can visit.
NOTE: Force thoughts (if any) are designated by: //thought//. Normal thoughts are designated by: {thought}. Direct lines from AOTC and TPM (movie or novel) appear in italics and quotation marks when applicable.


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


Prologue: Sometime during Revenge of the Sith


"But true love is a durable fire,
In the mind ever burning,
Never sick, never old, never dead,
From itself never turning."

Anonymous


If I ever did one thing right in my life it was to love Padmé. She is the light, the goodness, and the heart that keeps the lurking darkness at bay. When all other avenues have been closed, I can turn to her without fear of reproach. It's in Padmé's arms that I find the solace and comfort that no one else can supply. Without her I don't know what I would do.

Without Padmé there is nothing.

She completes me, filling up a secret place inside me that no one else ever could. The depth of my love for her frightens me at times because with it comes the mind numbing terror of losing it; of losing Padmé. At night when I'm comforting her after one of her frequent nightmares, I feel as though she is slipping away from me and I tighten my hold. She is my everything and I won't let her go.

By loving Padmé, I saved her from herself, you know. Before I came back into her life she was consumed with her work, never thinking of her own wants, her own needs. Some people called it a noble cause, I called it a waste. She never admitted it but she was lonely, trapped in the formal role of senator with no end in sight. Padmé was meant for love – my love and no one else's.

If I ever did one thing wrong in my life it was to love Padmé. I love her far too much to ever be considered good for her. I know it deep down but that unwanted and unwelcome knowledge did not deter me then nor does it deter me now. She is my obsession, my heart, my very life.

Manipulation. Coercion. Fear. Intimidation. Those are such ugly words to use when one is speaking in terms of courtship and love. Yet those were the too tools I used in my relentless quest to make her mine. I told myself that I had no choice but to use my powers to speed up the natural course our relationship would have ordinarily taken. I made use of my Force abilities to win her over, to seduce her, to overwhelm her defenses. Ruthlessly, I exploited the childhood affection she held for me, using it as a base upon which to build. I loved and wanted her so much that I didn't care if I frightened her or played unfairly upon her confusion. In fact there were times, many times, that I even reveled in the fear and uncertainty that I inspired.

The control and influence I exercise over Padmé, then and now, is a powerful and addictive aphrodisiac.

Do I regret anything? How can I when the direct result of my unorthodox methods was the achievement of my heart's desire? Against all odds the slave boy from Tatooine won the heart of an angel. If I had to do it all over again I wouldn’t change a thing, not for all the power and wealth in the Republic.

Padmé Naberrie Amidala is the center of my universe and I made damn sure that she came to see me in the very same light – no matter who it hurt or what it cost.

I've always been a proponent of the end justifying the means.


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


A Childhood Meeting


"A perfect Woman, nobly planned,
To warn, to comfort, and command;
And yet a Spirit still, and bright
With something of angelic light."

William Wordsworth


From the moment she walked into Watto's shop all those years ago, I knew – I just knew – that she was meant to be mine.

Pilots and traders had filled my impressionable young mind with incredible stories about angels - wondrous creatures whose beauty defied description. Hardened spacers who killed and robbed without a thought grew misty-eyed when talking of those rumored beings that were good and kind and rare to behold. When I caught my first glimpse of Padmé, I needed no more proof that those tales were true.

Our first meeting is forever frozen in my memory like a holograph that I can summon at will. She was barely more than a child but she was simply exquisite. If I were a poet I could write an epic poem extolling her beauty alone. Almond eyes in a heart shaped face. Long brown hair confined in a tail that hung down her back to swing enticingly when she moved. Slender and petite, she held herself with an inbred grace and dignity. The rough peasant garb that clothed her body only served to enhance her radiance.

I had stared at her in awe from my perch atop the counter, watching her as she tried to hide her curious inspection of Watto's cluttered shop. Despite her attire designed to lead one to believe she was at home in such surroundings, it was obvious that the dirty shop was a novelty to her. I knew instantly that she did not belong among us mere mortals.

Musical laughter met my announcement that I would marry her. With a sweet smile she had explained she couldn't marry me because I was just a little boy. Visions of a bewildering future whirled in my head. Images too overwhelming to take in as a whole flashed by me but one irrefutable thing stood out from the rest. I locked my eyes onto hers.

"I won't always be a little boy." I had said with more forceful conviction than any child should possess.

My comment delivered so confidently was met by silence. Padmé looked shaken and she shifted uncomfortably under my intense gaze before managing to drag her eyes away. A pretty blush stained her cheeks as she hastily bent her head to study with unwarranted fascination the design her foot was tracing in the sand. Her entire demeanor fascinated me. It was my first taste of the ability I had to disconcert someone older than myself and it was strangely empowering.


****

In the turbulent events that followed our fortuitous meeting, Padmé forgot what I’d said to her in Watto’s shop. She had thought it a game, a daydreaming boast created by a child’s too vivid imagination to entertain a stranger.

She was wrong, so very wrong.


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


We Meet Again


"You were made perfectly to be loved –
and surely I have loved you,
in the idea of you, my whole life long."

E.B. Browning


Padmé didn't recognize me when we met after a ten year separation. From the moment the Council had announced our new assignment, I had been a bundle of nerves at the thought of seeing her again. It never occurred to me that she wouldn't know me. After all, she had told me once that she would always care for me. Yet when Obi Wan and I stepped off the lift her eyes had slid dismissively over me to light up with pleasure at the sight of my Master.

“How could I forget my future husband?” Padmé had said teasingly as we had hurtled towards Coruscant upon fleeing Tatooine.

Apparently she could forget quite easily.

I swallowed the irritation and hurt that ate away at my heart. All those years of dreaming about her, of believing that she at least thought of me occasionally, all my hopes crushed. A sudden spike of annoyance lanced through me. I was just a slave boy to her, I thought bitterly. Someone so insignificant they could be dismissed the moment they were out of her sight.

My emotions must have reflected on my face despite my efforts to retain an impassive mask. In those days hiding my feelings was not the easy a task it was for Obi Wan. It was yet another tiresome lecture topic to be endured.

I was wallowing in misery one minute only to see my hopes rise when Padmé did an abrupt double take; recognition and surprise flitting across that beautiful face now devoid of the heavy make up she had been obligated to wear as queen.

"Ani? Can it be? My goodness how you have grown!"

My goodness how you have grown?

My irritation increased a notch. Padmé spoke as if I was being reintroduced to her as a ten year old boy instead of the twenty year old man I had become! All my acquired social graces and polite manners evaporated under the dismaying realization Padmé still thought of me as a child, or worse, a younger brother.

Somehow I managed to stammer out an awkward compliment about her growing more beautiful. If the floor could have opened up and swallowed me whole I would have been relieved; anything to avoid humiliating myself further. Then in one heart stopping moment everything changed.

Padmé tilted her head back, considering my height with bemusement for a few seconds before meeting my eyesuly uly meeting them, for the first time. It was like an electric current arcing between us, sending nerve endings tingling and heart rates soaring. I was surprised that no one else in the room could see the sparks created by our locked eyes.

Under the intensity of my gaze her affectionate smile of recognition slowly faltered like a flower wilting under the blaze of the hot sun. Her face was suffused with a rather becoming shade of pink, a clear indication that she felt the connection between us – and it wasn't childish affection.

The situation distressed her. With growing fascination, I noted the way she stiffened her back and shoulders, the way she brought her chin up almost defiantly as she fought desperately to regain some semblance of control over the situation. She wrapped herself in a cloak of serene regality, clutching it tightly about her in defense of the unexpected turn of events. Her reaction both amused and delighted me. I had that effect on her, me, a former slave boy from a backwater planet.

"Oh, Ani, you will always be that little boy I knew on Tatooine." She then said with a pointedly condescending smile.

Padmé’s words fell like a hammer, shattering my newly acquired confidence. Humiliation washed over me at that deliberate slap in the face. The patronizing comment was meant to relegate me back to the non-threatening role of a childhood friend. It was a transparent attempt to try and file me away under a neat and tidy category so she could safely ignore those unexpected feelings that had suddenly surfaced – much to her complete dismay.

I knew she had felt that connection. It had shown in her eyes for a brief moment before she’d managed to recover herself, before she brought down the shutters and clamped down on her traitorous response.

I let the embarrassment wash away, dissipating it through the Force. The slight didn't matter, I realized with sudden clarity. Padmé had surrounded herself with walls meant to keep others out. But she had just unwittingly shown me the first chink in the otherwise impenetrable fortress.

Ten years of dreaming and planning, I thought with an inner smile. It was then I knew that not only had the time and effort not been wasted, but that I was going to enjoy the chase more than I had ever enjoyed anything in my entire life.

In that thought I would be proven both right and wrong.


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


Coruscant Bedroom


"Temptation is the fire that
brings up the scum of the heart."

William Shakespeare


So close, so close, I muttered fiercely under my breath. The terrifying image of those kouhuns with their venom tipped tails poised to strike Padmé while she slept wouldn’t leave my head. A few more seconds and I would have been too late to save her.

"You're using her as bait." Obi Wan had said in disbelief.

I ground my teeth together in frustration; self-disgust washing over me like a toxic shower. I had lied to Obi Wan when I told him the plan had been her idea. It had been my plan and Padmé had agreed to it after I coaxed her out to the lounge for an all too brief conversation. Once I had her approval she had quickly disappeared back into that forbidden room where Dormé was still occupied with putting away the senatorial wardrobe.

My pace increased. All my attention focused on reaching Padmé's apartment, to making sure she was all right. Over the past ten years, Obi Wan had told me often that I was rash, impulsive, arrogant, and careless, among other things, and at that moment I agreed with every single one of those harsh words.

"If she’s been harmed in any way… If she’s so much as scratched I'll…." I muttered under my breath.

But I shied away from finishing that thought, pushing it back to the secret corners of my mind where the dark things lurked, growling and snapping so loudly at times I couldn't hear the voice of reason.

Vengeance is not the way of the Jedi. The Order does not seek revenge against its enemies, there is no hate, droned Obi Wan’s voice on and on inside my head.

{I'm better than that}

The phrase became my mantra. I was still repeating those reassuring words to myself when I dismissed the Nubian guards and sent them back downstairs;n I n I crossed the lounge to Padmé's bedroom; when I stood in the doorway silently watching her; and when I sauntered over to the edge of her bed under her wary gaze.

I sat down carefully, waiting for some sort of voiced objection that surprisingly never came. I smiled in what I hoped was a reassuring manner, trying to project the proper Jedi image, but it was an endeavor I failed miserably at as I was unable to stop my eyes from wandering. Padmé was within arms reach, we were completely alone and I feasted on the sight and opportunity like a ravenous dog.

My too-hungry gaze swept her form voraciously, taking in the soft curves and golden flesh on glorious display. The agitated rise and fall of her chest held my fascinated attention far longer than could be considered proper by any stretch of the imagination and when I looked back at her face, Padmé was flushed from my intense scrutiny. Force, she was even more beautiful than I’d remembered.

Without considering what I was doing, I reached out and brushed my fingertips against the heated flesh of her cheek. It was the barest of touches but Padmé jerked her head back as if scalded. Her act of rejection was like a swift, vicious punch in my gut. Hurt, I withdrew my hand and let it drop to the bed, though I refused to look away from the uneasy dark pools that considered me back. Padmé was going to find she couldn’t get rid of me so easily.

The lines of hody ody tightened with renewed tension as I told her of all that had transpired since leaving her to go after Obi Wan and the assassin probe. My voice was gruff with personal misery. The news I brought her wasn't what she’d hoped and I felt like I’d failed her. My earlier boasts about catching the person responsible taunted me, my conscious whispering words accusing me of incompetence and carelessness. Humiliation washed over me, the vehement and rash promises I’d made to Padmé suddenly seemed as childish to me as they must have to her – and everyone else in the room. I’d just wanted her to see me as the man I’d become, to know I wasn’t that insecure little boy anymore. In my haste to be her hero, her savior, I had instead left myself wide open to play the fool.

The silence that followed my tale condemned me further. I wasn’t the one who’d made the spectacular attention getting jump through a window towering miles above the ground. Had she been thinking about Obi Wan all this time? He never had trouble attracting women with his good looks and cultured accent. I snorted to myself. The voice that made so many female hearts flutter wasn’t nearly as pleasant when you had to listen to it for hours and hours on end, I thought sourly.

Would she dream of Obi Wan?

Not if I had anything to say about it came the dark thought. Still, I couldn’t help but remember the way her face lit up earlier whee’d e’d spied my Master getting off the lift. She hadn’t even recognized me.

Beside me, Padmé moved restlessly. Belatedly, I realized how late it actually was, that in a few hours it would be morning and she’d hardly slept at all. I didn't care for the smudges of fatigue shadowing eyes already darkened with grief and worry. Determined to atone for not following through on my promise, I used the Force to send her to sleep for some much needed rest. She fought it, I could feel her mental struggle, her resolve not to submit, but her will was no match for my abilities and reluctantly her eyelids finally drifted shut.

For that I had no need to apologize.

It wasn't right what I did next. It wasn't the way of the Jedi to take advantage of such a situation and I knew it. But all the teachings in the galaxy could not prevent the compulsion to reach out and caress her face. It had been so very long. The memory of the affectionate hug Padmé had given me before I’d left Naboo ten years previous was thin and worn from being brought out for comfort every time I’d been lonely or sad; the corners ragged with the constant handling from my grubby hands. I needed something new to hold in my heart.

I only meant to linger at her cheek in a silent gesture of goodnight. It would have ended there had she not turned and pressed herself into my palm so trustingly. Had the warm scent of clean skin and vanilla not filled my senses so tantalizingly. Had not her sweet breath feathered across my roughened hand.

It was too much temptation for a man starved and I didn't hesitate a moment longer.

{Mine}

Smooth skin, more delicate than the shimmersilk that clung to her warm body, met my touch. My fingertips danced down to her neckline, over her breasts, down the curve of her waist to linger at her hip. Padmé was perfection. The sight of her in her white nightgown with her dark brown hair spread out on her pillow and about her shoulders was so much more than I’d dreamt it. And though I no longer was naïve or unschooled enough to believe in those mythical angels from the Moons of Iego, I could’ve been persuaded otherwise that night.

The contented sigh that rose from Padmé as she slipped further intoep bep brought a satisfied smile to my face and drew me from my musings. With great reluctance I left the spot on her hip where my hand fit so perfectly and followed the familiar path back up to her cheek. I hoped she would dream of me as I dreamt of her - dreams of love and desire. If she didn't, she would eventually. I would make sure of it – just as I made sure Obi Wan was banished from her thoughts.

The minutes slipped away while I remained at Padmé's bedside. The sound of her slow and even breathing caressed my ears in the otherwise silent room. I stared down pensively, drinking my fill of the vision seeming to slumber so peacefully under the touch of my hand.

She would love me soon, of that I was determined. Any other outcome would destroy me.


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


The Meadow Picnic


“She shall be mine, and I will make
A lady of my own.”

William Wordsworth


Since we arrived on Naboo, Padmé had become maddeningly contradictory in her behavior and actions. One minute she would seemingly flirt with the ease of those empty headed women who frequented the various society functions Obi Wan and I were obliged to attend back on Coruscant and other worlds. The next she would freeze up, her expression turning indifferent as she fell back behind the mask of the untouchable senator and former queen.

I dislikt wht when she became that coldly formal politician when she was with me. In that mode she seemed unapproachable, unattainable to the mere likes of a Jedi Padawan. So it became my favorite past time to draw her out, to disconcert her, to strip away the mask she tried to use as a shield. The knowledge that I could send her heart racing and heat her blood with just a look or a smile was as intoxicating as the strongest Corellian brandy.

Padmé didn’t quite know what to make of me. She was use to dealing with men who observed the conventions and rules that governed polite society. Her world was full of government officials and courtiers who bowed over her hand only to back meekly away when their overtures were spurned. Eggshell walkers, I called them when I was feeling generous. When I wasn’t there were decidedly worse terms I took delight in using. Others called them gentlemen.

I was not a gentleman.

I’d no intention of letting Padmé treat me like one of her foppish senators or lobbyists. Meekness was not in my nature and I had no compunctions whatsoever about using any means necessary to make her fall in love with me. I was determined that there would be no more rejections from the willful senator.

The rebuffed kiss by the lake would not be repeated

Padmé confused matters further by sending conflicting signals that kept me off balance and unsure of myself, reducin to to that awkward ten year old boy I had once been, driving me to complete distraction. She blew hot and cold and the strange thing was I don’t think she was even aware she was doing it. There were times when she grew quiet, confusion clouding her eyes, and she would steal uneasy glances at me when she thought I wasn’t looking. But that realization didn’t make things any easier on me. After several years of being fawned over and chased by bored politician's wives, it was annoying to be constantly slapped down and treated like a child by the only person I ever truly wanted. Her determinedness to keep me at arms length kept my resentment at a constant simmer until the day in the meadow when it finally came to a boil.


****

I let my jealousy get the better of me. It was not my intention to attempt to seduce Padmé on that day, out in the open where anyone could have ventured by. For once I had been trying to practice restraint. Had it been with any other goal in mind, Obi Wan would have been proud of my effort. I must have recited the Jedi Code to myself a thousand times in order to keep my mind on my goal…and my hands off of her. For awhile it worked.

For just over two weeks, I managed to treat her with kid gloves, never daring to make anything other than a friendly gesture or give anything more than an innocent smile. After the disaster of our first day at the retreat, I was leery of breaking the calm. Gradually my patience – tried beyond what I thought myself capable of - started to pay off. Without her constant worries and workload Padmé relaxed, probably for the first time in years, and she was able to just be herself, and more importantly, to let her guard down - though a degree of skittishness remained.


****

It started out innocently enough. I wanted to know everything that had happened to her since the day I’d departed after the celebratory parade. No detail was too minute. I was like a thirsty man when it came to hearing about her life.

Once the Trade Federation crisis ended, Naboo again faded into the background of galactic importance. As queen of a rather insignificant planet at peace, it had not been necessary for Padmé to travel off world during the rest of her reign. It was only when she became a member of the senate that she came back to the capital, and even then her visits were infrequent.

Despite the fact the Senate and the Jedi Temple were relatively close in proximity, there had been no opportunities for us to meet, or even for me to catch sight of her from afar. During the eighteen months in which she had served as senator, Obi Wan and I had been off world on mission after mission. Even the holovid archives were of no help to a desperate Padawan yearning for a glimpse of the woman who haunted his dreams. Though she had been heavily involved over the last year with the faction against the Military Creation Act, she was not the official spokesperson. It was Bail Organa who held that dubious honor. The press only thought to pay Padmé attention again after the first assassination attempt on her life, by which time we were only hours away from meeting once more.

So in my efforts to learn all I could that day on Naboo, I unwisely ventured into dangerous territory. In retrospect I should have known better than to delve into a subject with such potential for personal pain but I did not expect the swift rush of jealousy that set my teeth on edge as Padmé teasingly told me about her first kiss, of Palo. Dark curly-headed, dreamy-eyed, artistic Palo who had come before me and stolen what was mine.

I felt an overpowering urge to hit something, preferably him as she described her childhood love. Palo will never know how lucky he was that I never came face to face with him.

That her first kiss had occurred two years before we had even met was irrelevant. That I’d had far more experience with the jaded women who always seemed to frequent the government social gatherings was of no consequence. A double standard? Yes, of course it was. But that is the way of the galaxy, the way of men. I make no excuses. It was how I felt, wrong or not.

I changed the subject then, deliberately picking on her career as a politician just to watch her eyes lose that look of soft remembrance. She accused me of teasing her. I looked away with a laugh but inside my head the image of her kissing someone else was tormenting me and my heart was clamoring for sweet retribution.


****

It wasn’t something I planned but I most certainly took advantage of the situation. How could I not? One minute we were laughing and tumbling down the hill as if neither of us had a care in the universe and the next we came to a stop with Padmé sitting astride me, her slight weight pressing into my hips with such innocent provocation. And all it took was a simple Force manipulation of where our bodies came to rest.

I’d heard the phrase before but I’d never really thought it was possible for time to actually freeze. It did that day as bright brown eyes shone down at me, bathing me in their radiance, warming me from the inside out. For one endless, yet too quickly forgotten moment, Padmé allowed herself to act like a girl instead of a senator and forgot to immediately reclaim the dignity she wore like a crown of thorns.

Just as swiftly as it had occurred, the wondrous moment ended. Padmé’s laughter trailed off as the inappropriateness of our positions began to creep into her awareness, stealing the smile from her face. A spark of fear flared to life in her eyes as if she’d seen something disturbing lurking in the depths of my expression. Without the brilliance of her smile I felt the cold sweep of loneliness spread across my heart.

A swift tide of red embarrassment colored her face and Padmé made as if to rise but I had other ideas. The memory of her rejecting my kiss the day we’d arrived refused my hands the permission to release her. Instead I tightened my hold at her waist to keep her from escaping.

The warmth of her body seeped through the material of her dress and I began a slow kneading caress at her waist, every motion sending the fabric rubbing enticingly against the hidden flesh beneath. The liberties I was taking shocked Padmé into silence and she closed her eyes in desperation, not understanding why she couldn’t frame a vocal protest; not understanding why she felt a flutter of dormant excitement. She was stunned at my boldness. Only Padmé could consider the tame movements of my hands at her waist to be bold. By the standards of the women I had been with it was practically platonic. Unschooled and unskilled, I thought with triumph, and I would be the one to awaken her.

Waves of bewildered pleasure crashed through our Force connection, spiking my own ardor. I felt myself harden and knew that the innocent contact was not enough. Abruptly, Padmé’s eyes opened confusion and desire darkening the brown orbs. Her glassy-eyed gaze remained riveted on mine as I dared to push further and ran my hands up her torso with deliberate ease. When my hands slid over her breasts, a sharp intake of air sounded and a violent shudder ran through her slender frame.

My hands moved to stroke the length of her back and a crooked half smile curved my lips. Someone once had called it my bedroom smile, claiming it made her go weak in the knees, that it made her want to do all kinds of wicked things. And as Padmé’s body sank down atop my own, her lips coming ever closer, I couldn’t help but think of all the decadent things I wanted to do to her.

A tortured sigh escaped her seconds before she gave in to the inevitable and kissed me. She meant it to be quick; a kiss givo apo appease me so I would let her go…and once released she could then quickly dismiss the incident from her mind as if it had never happened, just as she’d done with our first kiss. Remembered anger and renewed frustration flashed through me. I wasn’t going to let her torment me in that manner. There would be no backing away this time, no acting like the kiss never happened. This time she would not be able to deny this thing that was between us.

The swiftness in which I literally turned the tables on her left her breathless. Flipping her over onto her back left her gratifyingly stunned and her face wore an incredulous expression that turned rapidly into nervous unease as the precariousness of her situation began to filter through to her overwhelmed mind. Padmé had lost control of the situation and she knew it.

It was with great satisfaction that I watched apprehension light her eyes, felt her delicate hands press flat against the wall of my chest to ward me off, and felt the pressure of her hips arching against me. After today she would know who she belonged to, I swore to myself. Arrogant pride filled me knowing I had such an affect on the normally poised and sophisticated senator. There would be no breaking of a kiss only to claim she shouldn't have allowed it. I was in control now and I wouldn’t relinquish it without a fight.

“Anakin, please…” Padmé began in a shaky voice.

Our lips were only a hairs breath apart and I couldn’t keep the smugness from either my expression or tone.

“Please, Padmé?” I said with a smirk. “I think I rather like to hear you beg, milady.”

Brown eyes widened at my provocative words and the accompanying tremor that ran through her drew from me a smile heavy with primal want. I studied the slightly parted lips longingly. Her talk of Palo rose up to squeeze my heart. I knew it was irrational, that it was idiotic and illogical to feel threatened by a ghost from her past but I could not stem the tide of angry jealousy.

“I wasn’t your first kiss. But Padmé, I swear I will be the only one you kiss from this day forward.”

Before she could react, my mouth came crashing down on hers with more force than was really necessary. I easily overcame her initialistaistance using the advantage of my position and my strength, holding her face steady as my tongue demanded and gained entrance to taste the sweet moist cavern of her mouth. I didn't want to force a response from her but at the same time I reveled in my dominance, the small whimpers of protest fading to those of pleasure encouraging me to continue. When she finally slid her hands around my neck to thread her fingers through my hair and actually pulled me closer, I knew both triumph and joy.

There was no more haughty senator, cautious and formal, there was only a girl – my girl, and she was kissing me back with unrestrained abandon.

Memories of what followed are mixed and jumbled in my mind like a child's puzzle tossed haphazardly in its container. Padmé's body was beneath me, soft and pliant under my seeking hands and between my thighs. Her mouth, ripe and inviting, still tasting of the jinjo berries she’d eaten for dessert was soft and delicious. Sweet, warm breath mingled with mine, filling my lungs with her taste, her life force. Mewling cries and soft whimpers from the back of her throat tempted my ears and aroused me almost to the point of pain. All the dreams and fantasies that had kept me warm at night suddenly seemed to be coming true at long last.

We were a tangled mess of entwined limbs, mussed hair, and disordered clothing. Sun warmed skin met my lips as I moved down the column of Padmé's throat; my hands cupped and kneaded those sweet breasts that I’d been aching to touch for far too long. Heat and desire blossomed between us, swiftly wiping out reason and common sense. I forgot where we were, I forgot who we were, and my body took over with only one goal in mind.

My lips trailed across the exposed flesh above the low neckline of Padmé’s dress, savoring its delicate taste and feel. With infinite care I eased the straps from her rounded shoulders and began tll hll her bodice down, intent on exposing her naked breasts to my hungry gaze and mouth. Progress was painstakingly slow in order to avoid alarming the apparently oblivious girl but somehow I found the strength to restrain myself from ripping the front of her dress apart… just. I concentrated on kissing every centimeter of newly bared flesh, losing myself in scented skin and her soft body beneath me. I was almost half way to my goal when Padmé suddenly stopped me.

Desperate hands pulled at the front of her dress and a wordless cry of protest sounded. I almost did the unthinkable and carried on despite her wishes to the contrary. The lust and desire coursing through my veins urged me not to stop, to take what I wanted, but the look of real fear in her dark brown eyes and the tensing of her body beneath me brought me to my senses.

Padmé was my elder by just over four years. She was more experienced in the ways of galactic politics and the art of diplomacy, she moved in society with practiced ease; but when it came to love and desire, she was a mere child, a complete innocent. It was I who held the upper hand in that ancient game played out between men and women over the centuries. Reluctantly, I granted her a temporary stay and set about soothing her jangled nerves and erasing her fears.

It was easily done, though by no means ethical. Using a Jedi calming technique along with the arousal that still simmered in her eyes, I held her face in my hands, whispering her name, dissipating the tenseness gradually until she once again surrendered to her newly awakened body's demands.

That is, until I pushed her too far.


****

She ran from me.

She ran from me!

That thought rolled around and around in my head, gaining volume until I could no longer hear the birds singing or even the dull roar of the waterfalls. A dark and furtive voice broke through the cacophony with hissing taunts. The slave boy had dared to touch the senator, to soil her with

his work worn hands and she had fled in disgust. How can you tolerate such behavior from her? Aren't you good enough for the esteemed Padmé Naberrie?

{She didn't seem to think so}

I didn't want to believe it. I couldn't believe it. Padmé had responded, she’d kissed me back, she’d run her fingers through my hair, and had pressed her body to mine in invitation. Sith! Padmé had felt something, I was sure of it!

Unless she responded that way to everyone she kissed, a jeering voice whispered mockingly.

Jealousy twisted my insides and beat down my sensible side, the part of me that knew I was being unfair to her. I’d felt the shame rolling off of her in intense waves as she stood above me with a glazed look in her eyes. I could taste her embarrassment flavored with bitter rse.rse. And when I had reached out to her with her name on my lips, she had stared at me in horror, stumbling away with jerky, panicky movements only to turn and flee.

{Slave...AniAniAniAni...you will learn your place...slaveslaveslave}

Thxt txt thing I knew, I was on my feet and giving chase with as much determination and ruthlessness as a hunter after his escaping prey.


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


The Flight


"Suddenly, as rare things will, it vanished."

E.B. Browning


Once, on a planet whose name I can no longer recall, Obi Wan and I had been reduced by extenuating circumstances to living off the land for a time. Practically the only thing edible to humans had been a four-legged furry animal called a tabor. I remembered the sense of primal exhilaration thrumming in my veins as I chased that agile animal through the scrub brush, my growling stomach fueling my determination.

The same thrill of the chase flowed through me as I followed Padmé into the trees that rimmed the meadow. Primitive instincts inherited from ancestors long dead rose up from their dormant state, becoming second nature once more. I was all too aware that there was more urging me onwards though. Dark emotions Jedi are supposed to control burned inside me. They wrestled control away from the rational man. Anger, fear, jealousy, lust, and the humiliation of a perceived rejection - they all played their role in that insane course that I was so set upon. I was not thinking about anything other than catching the fleeing girl who had dared to run from me like I was something frightening; like I was somehow unworthy due to the circumstances of my birth.

Curses that would’ve curled Obi Wan's beard rose from me as branches snagged my clothes and my hair, while prickly bushes whipped back to sting the exposed flesh of my hands and face. Every injury suffered was added to the catalog of grievances I was mentally compiling.

Each time Padmé stumbled, barely avoiding what could have been very nasty falls, my heart leapt into my throat. I marveled that I retained the ability to remain concerned for her welfare while at the same time wanting to throttle her so hard her teeth rattled.

Inevitably, the distanctweetween us dwindled until I was close enough to hear the little sobs of distress hidden beneath her harsh panting breaths. My conscience stabbed at me but I shoved it aside with ease as my fingers finally closed around Padmé's upper arm, digging into the tender flesh. The startled scream that tore past her lips only made me that much more determined. Immediately, I swung her around to face me, narrowing my eyes angrily. I ignored the panicked expression worrying her brown eyes, intent on demanding an explanation and reparation.

The first blow contacted painfully with my jaw. The second ged oed off my nose with enough force to send stars shooting before my eyes. Wild, flailing fists were coming at me without rhyme or reason and I had to work quickly to avoid any real damage. The anger within began to dwindle away as it dawned on me exactly how upset Padmé was. The pain of rejection turned to concern and I gathered her to me in a tight embrace, pinning her arms safely at her sides, holding her to me with her back firmly pressed against my chest.

The previously soft and pliant body was now all rigid lines and tensed muscles. The violent trembles racking her body were her only movements. Each tremor twisted the knife of remorse that was working its way into my gut.

The shame I had sensed from Padmé had been directed at herself not me. Too late I realized how bewildering and overpowering everything must be for her. I had done the one thing I had never wanted, I had scared her by pushing too far, too fast. I wanted her so much that it was overriding all sense of caution and common sense. Even knowing this, it was all I could do to stop myself from pushing her up against the nearest tree and tasting those lips again.

Tamping down hard on that tempting urge, I made myself continue with the calming sway while I whispered soothing nonsense against her hair, automatically falling back on the language my mother had taught me as a child. It didn't matter that she couldn't understand the lilting words. I needed something to distract her, something that would keep her mind off kilter until I had decided how best to control the damage.

The heady scent of Padmé's overheated skin and perfumed hair made it difficult to concentrate and soon I was lost in the feel of the body that was gradually relaxing back into mine. With a heavy sigh, she let her head fall to the side, pressing one side of her face into my chest. Though I doubted she even knew she was doing it, I tightened my embrace in response. That there was no awareness in her actions didn't matter to me. To my surprise I found that I was just content to simply hold her.

I don't think she ever knew exactly how long I rocked her in my arms that afternoon. The minutes slipped away one by one, time melding until it seemed that only we existed. I watched the shadows darken and lengthen absently, not really caring if we ever went back but knowing that we had to. It was under that almost magical spell that I reluctantly eased my hold and turned Padmé to face me.

The dying light of the day bathed her delicate features in a warm glow that took my breath away.



At times I was convinced Padmé knew exactly what she was doing to me, that she was playing the game like so many of the women I’d known in the past. But just as I would convince myself of that fact I would look into those deep brown eyes shinning with a mixture of honesty and uncertainty, and I knew she wasn’t toying with me deliberately. There was no artifice to Padmé. Despite her years in public service she had not yet learnt to hide her true self from those she cared about. That skill came much later when she was taught how to shield her thoughts from me, keeping a part of her locked up so tight I was unable to discover her secrets. But that was far in the future.

I traced the contours of her face with trembling fingertips, noting the curve of her cheek, the shadowed sweep of her eyelashes, and the perfectly bowed lips; all the beautiful lines of a face I’d etched into my memory so long ago.

During my exploration, Padmé stood perfectly still, staring up at me with wide brown eyes that still held a trace of dazedness. I knew I could drown in her liquid gaze if she'd let me. I would do anything for her, she only had to ask.

No, I wasn't a gentleman but for the next few minutes I acted like one, sinking to my knees before her and humbly apologizing for what had happened. If anybody else had done what I had just done to Padmé I would probably have killed them. As it, I , I considered my actions excusable because I loved her so much. I was sure what I was doing was in both of our best interests and no one could have convinced me otherwise.