AU set not long at all before the Clone Wars start up. I love these two together, so strangely illicit. I'd love to hear your feedback! Or ideas, lol. :)
Padme wasn't impulsive. She told herself that every day she wanted to smack Nute Gunray across his smug face each time he escaped punishment at the trials, or tell off the members of the growing Separatist movement in the Senate, or shove Rush Clovis over the railing for what he had done to her. She told herself that whenever she found herself in the company of the man who had once been her mentor, and now thanks to a strange series of events and hidden confessions, had become much more.
Much, much more. And that wasn't good for either of them.
"You," she paused and looked at him. "You know we shouldn't be doing this."
"I'm not certain I actually do, my lady," he offered a thin smile, the barest hint of amusement buried deep in his strange eyes, the almost colorless eyes that looked straight into her soul as though he knew her very thoughts.
Maybe he did. She was never certain. After all, he knew her better than almost anyone, perhaps better than even her own family.
The morning light was just beginning to peek in through the wide curved windows lining the far end of the room. Outside, Coruscant slowly woke to the sounds of speeders and blaring announcements and the distant rumble of the industrial compounds. She listened for a long moment and soaked in the soothing warmth of the sun's rays.
Here, with him in 500 Republica, she stood above it all. Well… stood perhaps wasn't the right way to put it, she thought ruefully, and the idea brought her back to her current predicament.
"What if the Holonet…" she stopped, arrested by the delightful sensation of his fingertips playing across her lower right leg. It felt wonderful.
"What was that, my dear?"
She searched his face, which remained entirely blank and devoid of his innermost thoughts. Of the two of them, he was truly the master politician. Nothing escaped that he did not allow, not even here between the two of them, and his effortless subterfuge both drove her insane and lured her closer. It made her hot under the collar… if she were wearing a collar. Which she wasn't at the moment, or much of anything else. The thought warmed her in other places.
"The Holonet," she stuttered.
Was he purring? "What about the Holonet?"
"They would have a field day if they ever found out."
His long-fingered hand slowly trailed up her turned thigh and perched on the swell of her hip, almost possessive and definitely too distracting. "And that matters to us…?"
She finally shoved his hand away, but her heart wasn't in it. "It should. Do you want Naboo to be the laughingstock of the galaxy?"
He drawled, supremely confident, "I think you overestimate our infamy, my dear, and the Holonet's ability to perform actual journalism. We're both of age, some of us more than others," his smile showed only gentle self-deprecation, an expression that threatened to undo her resolve.
She pushed against his pale shoulder. It still surprised her how firm he was under his soft skin, like wiry durasteel coiled in shimmersilk. An image flashed into her mind, gripping those same shoulders in wild abandon only hours earlier.
She flushed when she noticed the small pattern of bruises left in the shape of her hand on his skin. Her grip was really that strong? She started talking to cover her embarrassment. "The Senate would never understand, a Chancellor and a Senator from the same planet, um, collaborating." Only he could make her lose her normally elegant grasp of language, and lose it she did as he stared at her and the heat bubbled low in her belly.
"Mmm," he hummed, noncommittal, and leaned over her and pressed a soft kiss to her nose. "That's certainly one word for it, I suppose."
"Don't try to wiggle your way out of this one," she warned. "I'm serious."
"I don't recall being the one to," and he arched one skeptical greying eyebrow, "'wiggle' out of anything last night."
She heard him chuckle when the blood rushed to her face. It didn't help. His laugh was a baritone mixture of refinement and utter decadence, the sound of which made her weak in the knees. "It's not funny," she protested. "You and I have reputations to maintain, standards to hold up for others to follow."
He moved his hand back to her side, gaze sparking with a slow-burning interest. "Oh, collaboration and transparency are two admired features of my administration. How could anyone find fault with that? And I have very high standards, my Queen." He looked meaningfully at the royal bracelet still on her wrist, a treasured memento from her reign.
"Former Queen," she bit at her lower lip when his hand passed under the curve of her right breast and rested there, cool and enticing.
He moved so close that she could see his pale eyes reflecting the morning light and capturing golden flecks in their depths. Entranced, she couldn't look away as he whispered, all traces of teasing gone and intoxicating earnestness taking its place, "You will always be my Queen, Your Majesty. There is no escaping that fact."
The promise sent shivers running down her spine, pressed into the mattress. She tried to smile. "And you're what? My loyal subject?"
Very few individuals had seen the dignified Chancellor of the Republic grin, but he did now, a devilish twist of his thin mouth. "What else? What is your command, my lady?" he ran his thumb over the tightening peak of her nipple, and she gasped.
"We can't do this anymore," she said again, but weaker. Not so sure anymore. What this man could do with his hands…
He toyed with her a moment longer and paused the gentle motion when he saw her shiver and heard a low moan. "It's a wretched decree, Your Majesty, but I must abide by the wishes of my sovereign." He pulled his hand free and sat up on the wide bed, narrow shoulders flexing as he reached for his clothing.
The longing only intensified when she realized that he was serious. He was seriously going to leave her like this, half mad with unfulfilled pleasure. The fire in her belly surged rebelliously. "Wait…" she whispered.
He ignored her, sliding into a long dressing gown and slippers and making his way calmly to the low table where the wine from the night before still sat, half finished. He picked it up and studied the label, musing, "I shall miss our… stimulating… discussions, my dear. But of course I understand your reservations. Entirely improper."
She growled, her body tightening with his words and her hands digging into the silken sheets, and he glanced at her, eyes wide with the innocent gravity he showed to the rest of the galaxy. She forgot her arguments, forgot her reservations, forgot everything except the thought of that talented and sensual mouth on her skin, making bold unspoken statements to drive her wild.
Her voice became a strangled choke. "If you don't get back here, Chancellor," and she surprised herself with her playfulness, "You will be in serious danger of creating an intergalactic incident."
"Should I bring the wine?" he motioned the bottle toward her. "Grease the wheels of negotiation, so to speak?"
Insufferable tease. All was fair in love and war and politics, she decided, and two could play that game. She lowered her voice to what she hoped was a sultry promise. "As long as you lick it off me, Chancellor, I don't care what you bring."
It must have worked. His eyes sparked with desire, a smoky flame that guttered against the clear ice and threatened to expose something infinitely dark behind. Force help her, she loved it. For so many years she had looked to him to lead, to guide her, to make the hard decisions, but here… here she told him, and he obeyed.
Who could resist that?
She sat up, unheeding of the sheets dropping away and lowered her chin in silent command. He glided across the room, and when he stopped at her side, she already knew what she wanted.
"Kneel."
His eyes flashed, but he did.
She would pay for that one later. The realization fired the pit in her core, and she eagerly reached for him.