The Night Before

'The Republic cannot be fixed, M'Lady. It is time to start over.'

The Count's words, delivered with his innate commanding authority, resounded through the circular conference chamber where Padmé was sure her execution was to be decided. Dooku sat opposite her, flanked by the bounty hunter that had captured Anakin.

Anakin. Padmé felt a pang of concern stab through her body at the mere thought of his name. The boy -- and just a boy he was -- had been separated from her upon being marched from the underground factory, and Padmé had seen or heard nothing of him since. She wondered if the insectile Geonosians, with their arcane laws, had tired of waiting and had already executed him...

Stop it, she admonished herself. There was no point in worrying unduly -- yet Padmé couldn’t help the sick feeling that roiled in her stomach whenever she thought of Anakin, lost somewhere in the catacombs of the Geonosian hive.

She forced herself to concentrate, and focus on Count Dooku, still spouting off his political spiel from across the table. ‘...The time will come when that cult of greed called the Republic will lose even the pretext of democracy and freedom.’

Padmé marshalled her thoughts, discombobulated though they were by her situation -- and Anakin’s. ‘I cannot believe that,’ she retorted, attempting to convey as much authority as the former Queen of Naboo possessed. ‘I know of your treaties with the Trade Federation, the Commerce Guild, and the others, Count. What is happening here is not government that has been brought out by business... It’s business becoming government.’

Governments; commerce; trade federations... The whole rotten business was a confounding mess, and Padmé no longer had any interest in Dooku’s machinations. She cared not whether the Techno Union sided with the Separatists, or if Dooku opposed Palpatine... none of it really mattered anymore, not with Anakin stuck in the bowels of an alien world, awaiting his death sentence in some cold, lonely prison cell...

Padmé blinked, trying to shift the images of Anakin, wracked in pain, that swam before her eyes. She turned to the Count again, to find him smiling his faint little smile. She rallied. ‘I will not forsake all I have honoured and worked for and betray the Republic,’ she said, glaring at Dooku with a defiant eye.

That strange little smile did not waver, and Padmé had the sudden urge to shield her eyes, to look away; as if the Count could see into her soul and pluck out her deepest fears -- for the Republic, for herself... for Anakin --

‘Then you will betray your Jedi friends?’

No! Padmé twitched as if stung, head reeling, and belatedly realizing that it was Dooku who had spoken, not her own fear-laced thoughts echoing in her mind. The Count continued, the smile offset by those dark, hollow eyes. ‘Without your cooperation, I can do nothing to stop their execution.’

Padmé wanted to scream, to tear that infuriating smile from the Count’s traitorous visage; to rage against the injustice and the unfairness of it all; to howl in the face of the gathering darkness. This wasn’t happening; it couldn’t be real, and this certainly wasn’t how Padmé had imagined spending her time as a Senator of the Republic. The rest of the conference -- the trial -- passed in a blur: Padmé could do nothing to overcome Dooku’s confident little smile, and had sealed the deaths of Obi-Wan and Anakin.

Anakin. Would she ever see him again? And even if she did, what would she say? She had dragged him from his family on Tatooine to die alone on an alien world. She had failed him.

----

Dooku watched two Geonosian guards escorting Padmé from the chamber, Jango Fett following on behind. He sat passively as he watched her go, and almost -- almost -- lamented the situation. It was true that he had no wish to see the young Senator executed, but Nute Gunray and his toady ilk had taken matters out of his hands.

Dooku did not like that. But the Neimoidians would undoubtedly have their comeuppance one day soon, and Dooku would be well rid of them. Still, the current situation was... less than ideal. He rose from his introspection, and turned to Sun Fac, the Archduke’s lieutenant, and beckoned him close.

‘Send the Senator to cell Isk-Isk-Esk-Besh,’ he commanded, and Fac replied with a string of chittering nonsense of which Dooku had, to his distaste, been required to gain a basic understanding. ‘Yes, I am fully aware it is already occupied. The containment field will not be necessary to hold the Senator.’

More prolonged babbling, punctuated with guttral clicks, followed Dooku’s order. ‘In the civilized regions of the galaxy,’ Dooku snapped, ‘we prefer to keep our prisoners as comfortable as possible, given their situation. It is an ill-used concept known as decorum.’ He sighed, knowing the concept was utterly lost on the bug people. It would have to suffice that Sun Fac carried out Dooku’s orders simply because of Dooku’s superior status, not through any moral regard on Fac’s part.

The Geonosian clicked and burbled, saluted, and ambled towards the door. A further thought had become apparent to Dooku, and he bade the lieutenant pause. ‘Ensure the containment field is adjusted to setting Four-Dash-Seven, and,’ here Dooku paused, as if chewing over a particularly sour piece of fruit, then modulated his voice and barked out an approximation of the Geonosian dialect, imitating as best a Human could the complex, insectoid sounds. It was appropriate, however, to convey such a... low subject as Dooku was explaining in this vulgar language, rather than sully his Basic tongue. Fac gabbled, tilting his head this way and that, clearly not grasping the alien concept, but nevertheless clicked his understanding, and departed.

Dooku sank back into his high-backed chair and steepled his fingers on the tabletop. It was some consolation to the white-haired Count that, if he could not reprieve the Senator of her grisly fate in the arena, he could at least allow her one last wish, to be enjoyed before the bloodshed to come with the rising sun.

----

Padmé, disoriented by the maze of catacombs, had no idea where she was, aside from being deep under the rocky surface of the planet. The guards leading her ever deeper into the darkness did not talk, nor even look at her, though the crackling energy poles both carried in their sinewy hands spoke volumes. She had not been bound or cuffed, though with the combination of the armed guards and the endless, twisting caverns, escape was clearly not an option. Padmé had no choice but to be led dutifully towards her fate.

Finally, after a long and arduous journey, the Geonosians halted in front of a large portal set against the crust of the catacomb wall. One manipulated a control panel to the right, which caused the door to hiss violently open, and Padmé was instantly shoved inside by the second guard. She stumbled, tripping on the uneven ground, and sprawled onto the rocky surface. The door slammed instantly, before Padmé had a chance to pick herself up, and the chamber -- the cell -- was plunged into an eerie half-light. A blue glow was emanating from somewhere towards the rear of the chamber, and a low buzzing sound indicated the presence of some manner of technology -- though to Padmé, it registered as the growl of some alien predator, skulking in the shadows and awaiting its next meal.

She shivered, prone on the cold floor of the chamber, but before she could move to investigate, she heard another sound; one that drowned out not only the buzzing noise, but Padmé’s defeated, terrified worries.

‘Padmé!’

It was Anakin! Padmé scrabbled to her feet and looked up, towards the blue glow -- and froze, her breath stolen away. There, hanging suspended in a cone of crackling blue energy, was Anakin Skywalker, staring down at her, relieved and shocked to see her.

And he was naked. He had been stripped of his robes, his tunic, his pants... none of them were in sight, though Padmé would not have been able to spot them if they had been present in the little chamber. She could not take her eyes off the boy hanging before her, his muscled, taut body on full display, coursing with blue energy. Padmé’s world became Anakin’s body, from the short-cropped hair on his sweat-beaded head, down his toned, prominent torso, to his strong, hairless calves and his ten toes wiggling freely in mid-air... and, Padmé could not help but be drawn to admire the fleshy, vein-laced muscle hanging between his powerful thighs.

Padmé was no prude, and she had in the past enjoyed the company of several boys and men, both encountered in her private life and in the course of duty in the government. She had slept with several -- though she would dignify none of them as her ‘lovers’ -- though despite it all, Padmé was taken back to her first time, with Palo on the slopes above Varykino. Even Palo didn’t compare to Anakin; he was thick and long, even hanging limp, and Padmé could barely repress the urge to trace the contours of his impressive member with her tongue, and bury her fingers in the bushy patch of tangled blonde hair sprouting below his hard abdomen.

She felt dazed and light-headed, and her expression of slack wonder evidently came across as a cause for concern. ‘Padmé,’ Anakin called again, in that low, husky tone that Padmé had found so hard to resist back on Naboo, ‘are you all right? Have they hurt you? What have they done?’ His brow furrowed, and he strained in futile effort against the binders that held his arms and legs within the energy field. Padmé’s eyes roved over Anakin’s flexing muscles, fighting against his bonds, and felt a surge of longing at his impassioned effort to reach her.

Padmé managed to assemble her thoughts, though she still could not take her eyes from his glistening body. ‘I... I’m fine,’ she stammered, then crumbled. ‘Oh, Anakin. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry!’

Anakin’s expression immediately shifted, the lines of worry breaking over his brow only making his innocent face all the more endearing. ‘Shh,’ he soothed. ‘It’s not your fault. You’ve done nothing wrong. This is Dooku, and the Separatists. They’re to blame.’

Padmé would not have it, and stepped closer, wanting to reach out and hold Anakin, to have a degree of comfort. ‘I led you here, I took you from your family and led you here,’ she wailed.

‘I couldn’t stay on Tatooine,’ Anakin said, and Padmé saw his eyes drop, and was again reminded of how much the boy had suffered recently. ‘We came to rescue Obi-Wan. It was my choice as much as yours.’

The earnest honesty of his confession touched Padmé, and her expression softened. ‘Even so,’ she said quietly. ‘This isn’t how I had planned it.’

Anakin’s mouth twitched, almost resolving itself into a faint, wry smile. ‘It’s not exactly what I imagined, either,’ he commented, and Padmé smiled at this brief reprieve from the desperate reality of their predicament. Even imprisoned and sentenced for death, Anakin could lift Padmé’s spirits, and for that she loved him all the more. Her gaze again dropped to the large member between his legs, and she longed to show Anakin her appreciation for his care and devotion.

Her eyes travelled lower, and took in the circular, circuit-ridden base of the containment field. A spark of hope rising, Padmé dashed closer, and inspected the circuitry with fervent eyes. Anakin looked down at her. ‘Be careful,’ he warned. ‘The energy is fluctuating. I could hardly think earlier, it was so strong.’

Padmé glanced up at him, and her spine tingled as she took in the flaccid cock hanging over her, seemingly close enough to touch from this distance. But she quickly returned her intent gaze to the circuits below. ‘Lucky for me, then,’ she breathed, and reached out for a series of wires leading directly into the central field emitter. As her fingers came into contact with the coruscating energy, a jolt flashed up her arm and crackled through her body. She jerked back in surprise, and Anakin cried out her name.

‘Are you all right?’ he said in desperation, but Padmé simply rocked forward on her heels to return to her original position.

‘I’m fine,’ she replied, but in truth, the sensation she had felt couldn’t be vocalized. The spark of energy had seemed to brush every nerve ending in her body, and had shot into her core, eliciting a feeling Padmé could associate with only one activity. She let out a calming breath, and reached into the force field once again. The current that sped through her body was even more potent than the last, and caused Padmé to gasp aloud, her entire body tingling. Anakin again shouted out his concern, but Padmé breathed, ‘it’s all right...’ and pushed her hand in further. Her body was electrified, not in actuality, but deep within her, stimulating her senses like nothing she had ever experienced. Her body shook as waves of pleasure bombarded her from every angle, and her arm pressed further into the field, increasing the current.

Padmé’s head span, her mouth forming a little ‘o’ as she gasped and moaned at the sensations cascading down her arm and into her body. She could feel her hair standing on end, and her nipples were poking hard and firm against her tight jumpsuit. She subconsciously spread her legs wider from her crouching position, and longed to rub her fingers against her enflamed clit.

From above, Anakin looked down at Padmé reaching into the force field, her back arching and her breasts straining against the tight material that was now barely restraining them. He didn’t know what the energy was doing to Padmé, but he could tell its effect was something completely unexpected. Padmé brought her head back, exposing her long neck, and Anakin found he couldn’t look away from the sight. Mouth open, eyes closed, Padmé was lost in the throes of stimulation, and Anakin felt himself growing hard. He couldn’t resist: the sight he was witnessing was one he had fantasized about for... well, years, and he couldn’t quite believe what was happening.

By now, Padmé had reached in up to her elbow, and still the sensations came. Her breasts were mere inches from the edge of the field, and she could not resist leaning closer, touching the tips of her sensitive orbs to the crackling energy. She cried out, loud and hoarse, as her nipples were assaulted by the energy, sending lightning coursing over the engorged nubs. She was panting now with abandon, and Anakin was rock-hard, his member standing proud and free within the field. He himself was not affected in the same way as the moaning Senator -- possibly due to the binders pinning him in place within the field -- though the spectacle below was affording him a close enough approximation of the sensation. He longed to reach down and pleasure himself; to release the tension tightening every muscle in his body, but he was stuck fast.

Padmé, however, was in no such position. Her tingling breasts pushing into the field, she opened her eyes, and took in the sight of Anakin, floating erect directly above her, his calves on either side of her flushed face, and knew exactly what she had to do.

Padmé rose to her feet, standing inside the web of energy, and drew level with Anakin's abdomen. His cockhead was in front of her eyes, a twitching, throbbing rod of meat, close enough for Padmé to trace the veins winding down the shaft, and the sliver of precum oozing from the head. She glanced up at Anakin, barely able to concentrate, and found him looking down at her with an unreadable expression. 'Padmé...' he began, but the Senator shushed him.

'Let me,' she managed to gasp out, and enclosed a small hand around his girth. Her fingers and thumb barely met, so a second hand was applied, closer to the head. Anakin drew a sharp breath as he felt Padmé's electric touch. The Senator was not prepared to wait around, not in her present state; she immediately began pumping on Anakin's tall shaft, reveling in the feel of his skin sliding under her palms, and the knobby protrusions of his veins slipping past her slim fingers. Her body still wired and trembling at the energies flowing through her nerves, Padmé leaned in and took his head into her mouth. Anakin growled above her, and found enough leeway in his bonds to push his hips forward, thrusting his shaft farther into Padmé's hot mouth. Her tongue was in instant motion, sliding across his meat, bathing it in saliva, while her lips contracted around him, sucking him with earnest vigor.

Padmé knew she could not fit his impressive length into her mouth, as she was not quite so experienced with such a large subject. She tried her best, however, removing her hands to his balls, while she gobbled down on his member with gusto. She had to rise for air when she felt the spongy crown bob against the back of her throat, and found that she had consumed less than half of his length. This excited her more even than the energy sparking its rhythm in her pleasure centres, and she longed to feel the fullness of Anakin moving inside her. Resolved, she gave his prick a loving kiss, and stepped back.

She experienced a momentary feeling of yawing desperation as she lost contact with the energy field -- but with a lightning pace, began stripping off her jumpsuit, intent on not wasting a second. Anakin looked on with wide eyes as Padmé dropped her skin-tight top from around her shoulders, exposing her full breasts and their hardened nipples, to the cool air of the chamber. She quickly ran the jumpsuit down her slim waist and over her wide hips, letting it slide down her smooth legs to hang over her spacer’s boots and pool on the floor. She instantly bent down to tug off her boots, then straightened up, kicking the jumpsuit off her bare feet. She was now completely nude, just like Anakin, with her slim, shapely body revealed to the boy for the first time.

His gaze roved over Padmé’s form, from her orb-like bosom, down her flat stomach, before resting on the little vee of auburn hair nestled between her milky thighs. His mouth opened, and his cock pulsed, causing his hips to jerk forwards, pointing his impressive member at the beautiful woman standing before him.

This action alone prompted Padmé into motion. She dived forwards, and in one swift move, leapt from the floor into the energy field. Contact instantly sent a spike through her body, causing her entire being to tingle, and she almost didn’t manage to clasp her hands around Anakin’s neck before slapping bodily into him. Unable to speak due to the electricity coruscating through her, Padmé simply gazed deep into Anakin’s big, round eyes, and shifted her position, hanging from his neck. Her body was shaking at the sensation elicited from the force field, and her legs scrabbled around the backs of Anakin’s thighs, attempting to gain purchase. Within moments, she was able to hook her legs around his hips, and lock her ankles together, securing her grip on Anakin’s straining body. His cock, hard and throbbing, was pressed between their hot bodies, pushing into Padmé’s abdomen, her pubic hair tickling his balls. He couldn’t believe this was happening; that the girl writhing and moaning against his body was Padmé, the woman of his dreams, and his cock was nestled snugly upon her hot flesh.

Her mouth moved, and the whisper of ’Anakin,’ reached his ears. He saw the longing in her eyes, in her parted lips, and in her shivering, electrified body. With as much freedom as his restraints would allow, Anakin pulled his hips back, with just enough room to allow his cock to spring free of its embrace, and slide delightfully against the opening of Padmé’s dripping sweetness. Her juices coated the head of his prick with a musky sheen, and he rubbed his spongy head up and down her puffy lips, drawing out her honey to trickle down his cock and run from his tingling balls. Padmé moaned louder, and pressed her mouth against his, hard, slipping her tongue past his lips and sighing his name into his mouth. This was all Anakin could take.

With a jerk of his hips, Anakin thrust himself inside the sultry Senator, burying four inches of his length inside her vibrating pussy. Padmé screamed around his mouth, and rocked her hips, sliding her wet walls up and down Anakin’s shaft with an intense pace. Anakin moaned as well, continuing the wet kiss, and plunged himself deeper into his lusty lover, sheathing over half of himself inside her. He could feel his engorged crown squeezing through Padmé’s tightness, and knew he would not be able to last much longer. Padmé was gyrating against him; undulating her hips upon his length, pressing her breasts into his hard chest, grazing her enflamed nipples on his flesh. He wished he could knead her bountiful orbs in his hands, and rub his fingers over her hard nubs, but his frustration would not be sated today. The mere fact that their union had finally been consummated, in the most unlikely of situations, was enough for Anakin, and he thrust himself harder inside his beautiful Padmé. He could just hear Padmé’s muffled cries, and identified his name, being repeated over and over with breathless intensity. ’Anakin... oh, Anakin, oh, oh, Anakin...’

‘Padmé,‘ he responded. ‘Padmé.‘ It was all he could say, but he felt it was, right now, enough. The Senator’s words spurred him on to greater energy, and he rocked himself ever deeper into her. Almost his entire length was now jacking in and out of Padmé’s vice-like pussy, and Anakin was losing control. His whole body was on fire, and his pistoning became erratic, pumping into the Senator wildly.

Padmé responded in kind, her hips jerking madly, her inner walls contracting around his throbbing cock, her tongue dueling fiercely with his. Suddenly, her muscles clenched, and she released his lips to scream a guttural cry towards the ceiling, her whole body tensing against the orgasm wracking her being. The sensation tipped Anakin over the edge as well, and he plunged himself up to the hilt into her intoxicating pussy, his balls slapping against the curve of her ass. His cock spurted a jet of cum into Padmé’s womb, milked by her contracting vaginal muscles, and he cried out in accompaniment, arching his neck to the heavens.

The sensation was too much for Padmé to bear, with energy still coursing through her, and her arms slipped from around Anakin’s neck. She toppled back, though her legs remained locked around her lover, his thick cock still nestled deep inside her. She hung there, her head poking out of the force field, and tried to gasp breath back into her lungs. Anakin, too, was breathing hard, and regarded Padmé’s form; her heaving breasts, her slim neck and sleek jaw line. He could barely believe he had just made love to the beautiful woman, but the continued feel of her pussy wrapped around his cock was more than enough to reassure him. He wanted to hold her in his arms and watch her fall asleep, but that seemed an impossible prospect.

‘Padmé,’ he breathed, little more than a sigh.

‘Anakin,’ came a thin, hoarse voice from outside the force field. ‘I...’

‘It’s all right,’ Anakin managed. He wanted to tell her so many things; that he loved her, that she was beautiful, that he would protect her -- but the stark reality of their impending execution made the sentiments feel hollow in his throat. Instead he could only repeat, ‘it’s all right. Everything’s all right.’

Padmé managed to pull herself up to face Anakin again, and her arms wrapped tightly around his neck. Her body was still tingling within the energy field, though her eyes showed a controlled resolve that had been absent earlier. ‘I know,’ she whispered through her red lips. ‘Everything’s all right now.’

And her head lolled against Anakin’s shoulder, her breathing slowing into the rhythm of much-needed sleep. Anakin could do nothing but hang there, Padmé resting comfortably against his body, his knees brought just high enough to support her. The lovers remained there for the rest of the night, through which Anakin did not sleep, but stood guard over Padmé’s restful form, his lips pressed against her soft, silken hair, his thoughts on their execution.

They were going to die, that he knew with absolute certainty. But after the unexpected night they had shared, Anakin mused that, perhaps, it was all right.

----

Within the Geonosian war room, Count Dooku switched the holoprojector off, the image of the naked couple entwined in the air fading from view. He glanced over at Gunray and his aide, the only other beings in the chamber, and noted with distaste that the slimy creature was tucking his reedy prick back into his robes. ‘I see no point to that demonstration, Count,’ Gunray said in his pathetic voice. ‘She is our prisoner. It should not be allowed!’

‘I see no reason why we should deprive a fellow being of one final wish before her untimely death,’ Dooku responded smoothly. He had taken no pleasure in the sordid spectacle, but was nevertheless pleased that it had occurred at all.

Gunray tutted and mumbled to his aide, and shuffled out of the room. The Count watched him go, and his loathing for the creature intensified. But, no matter. He would have the recording deleted, and within the day, both the Senator and her boy lover would be dead. It was a tragic affair, but it was the path they had chosen for themselves. That they could spend their waning hours in each others’ company was small comfort, but comfort nonetheless.

Count Dooku turned from the projector, and strode silently from the room, leaving the empty chamber in darkness.