DISCLAIMER: I own nothing apart from my own work. I do not own Star Wars, LucasFilms, Disney, Anakin Skywalker - fml - and if this work of fiction is similar to any that have been done before, I apologise in advance. I can assure you, this was created from my mind with Star Wars as the basis and my own insanity commingled in.
Author's Note: Thank you all so much for the immense feedback! I've hit 100 responses AND 50 followers, and it's growing, and just. Thank you. Thank you for all the reviews, the follows and the favourites and I promise I'll keep on getting this out while I can. Now, here's another thank you for your feedback, my nuggets. Remember, this is a fanfic created from my mind, so this is how I would have liked canon to be.
With that said, enjoy. Also, warning, mature content in this chapter. It's descriptive because I wanted to truly portray how I see them when their emotional level is commingled with their physical selves. ENJOY! I know I did... xx
It was the strongest of pulls, one of great magnitude. As if a circular current was tethered from one chest cavity to the other. Illuminated in the colours of the most excellent f vibrancy. The colours of guardian blue, adegan silver, and Arctic blue all entwined and attached, painting the fluid current. They were attached to each other and for all they knew, their bodies could have jumped into hyperspace, traveling solely in that channel of light and even then they wouldn't get to each other fast enough. Within each other's embrace, their souls merged as one in a euphoric bond.
It was always hard, seeing him after the prolonged absence of his presence. The asymmetrical contours of his facial features with the growing length of golden spirals that darkened with each passing year. His hair always shining in the way that she wasn't quite sure if it were blonde or brunette, becoming mesmerised to find an answer. For all Padmé knew, it was every colour that merged into a single one and in only the way that Anakin Skywalker could pull it off.
And, oh, how he shone.
With the receding sun casting its rays throughout the land causing the lively world of Naboo to be filled with a vibrant contrast to its already intense colours, it only magnified the arriving star ship as it prepared its landing on the private hanger she was standing on. While the sun magnified the world around, it was the star ship that illuminated the smile on Padmé Amidala as she watched with paralyzing anticipation for a view of the ship's flyer.
Whether it were days, months, or even mere hours, it was time away from Anakin that interlocked every passing moment to create one long and agonizing second apart from him. Of course, Padmé would count every day away from him subconsciously, torturing herself even more, but a promise was made in its wake - a promise to ensure that she would make up the time lost as he would pay her with his love in return.
When it came to the island of Varykino, the Naberrie family could only classify the villa as a lake retreat, a place of refuge. With its clear waters and soft sand that pulled the lake's tide closer and farther to it; the elegant architecture of the villa itself and the fluster of trees surrounding the island sporadically was enough to give the Naberries their privacy while allowing them to maintain the serenity of the Naboo Lake Country around. It was Varykino that, in the most recent of years, the junior of the Naberrie sisters found the retreat as a secluded sanctuary rather than a simple getaway. No one would know of her time spent with Anakin there, and they were allowed to express their emotions freely and in the open without fear of the world finding out the truth of their matrimony and love.
It was Varykino was where they could truly let their souls roam free. It was in Varykino that Padmé would wait for her husband when informed to and would wholeheartedly radiate her soul to him in unsolicited ease. It was in Varykino that Padmé now saw her husband leap gracefully from the cockpit of his star ship, something she knew he did more than eating during his service in the Clone Wars, and something that she couldn't help but allow another wave of pride to rush through her.
They were in each other's arms before either could even process that they were finally together at last. It would be some time before they would realise they were allowed to see each other, smell each other and simply be with each other after so long.
His smell infiltrated her system, taking hold of her ligaments and controlling them. She couldn't help but mold her lips into the powerful ecstasy that was her lover's kiss; her soul elongating itself to enter his own body and weld their souls as one once more. However much Padmé felt like she were drowning in his wake, she gasped in everything Anakin had to offer, fully obliging to her impediment doom.
Anakin, on the other hand, could not relinquish the flames scorching his insides with her touch. Though there were layers of clothing between the two, what with his dark Jedi robes and her typical Varykino attire of clothing that surely could place her in a fairy tale - something that drove him absolutely wild in the brain for how could she continue to find ways to prove that she surely was too pure to be in such an atrocious galaxy - her touch was still fire, licking and sparking each crevice her soft fingertips touched. Her touch, so warm compared to the ever-present coldness that surrounded him from the war, from space - from their time apart.
He finished kissing his beloved, grudgingly pulling away from her gentle caress only to impulsively press his lips to the smooth surface of her forehead. Blue eyes stared at her with crystalline perfection, absorbing every new line around her wondrous brown eyes and whatever new feature she had to give that would inhabit his dreams in future nights. There were no imperfections to Padmé, even the things she did that would anger him from time to time somehow made him revel in her more. He accepted her for all she was, physically and mentally. She was beauty, and grace. Illumination and brilliancy that would surpass every star in the galaxies.
"My love," Anakin sighed in contentment.
Padmé felt her soul smile at that. She felt as if the entire galaxy were smiling at those two words. Every living organism or entity simply stopped what they were doing to allow themselves three seconds of irrevocable bliss to bloom inside. That's how strong Anakin Skywalker's love was - the entire galaxy could feel it. But, there was only one person who could understand it; truly grasp the extent of combined emotions that could never be simplified to a single word like love. Because just as Padmé was the only one to possess the complete knowledge of his love, Anakin was the sole master of her own passion.
But just as quickly as the revelation that came with how much she loved him - as it did every time she laid eyes on him - it quickly disintegrated into an acidic pool of sorrow at the sight of his face. What once was the golden canvas of flawless art was now corrupted with scars of battle that sliced through some of his dominating features. On the hollow of his left cheek, once defining his high cheekbones with their shadows, now had two lines no longer than her nails. Padmé traced over them with sheer delicacy though the wounds had all but healed already. Slowly, she brought her fingers to hover over the rest of his face, afraid to touch it but allowing herself the privilege to touch it nevertheless in small, gentle pricks that were sporadically placed.
This was a face that had seen too much - that had endured too much.
It was the right eye, though, once clear of any obstructions that could take away the piercing blue that captivated his face, now held a perfect, pink line that went down in a clean swipe. A perfect display of what had been inflicted on him. Tears threatened to fall down her blushed cheeks, and they won the fight easily.
How could anyone do this to you? How? How could anyone have the audacity to harm you in such a way; to harm the face of my love?
Padmé didn't know that she had spoken the words out loud, her mind consumed by the confusion of looking at his new battle scars. This display of her tender affection caused Anakin to weave the metallic fingers of his right hand through the coils of her hair, bringing her tear struck face into the firmness of his chest. He could not physically feel the softness of her hair - at least, not to the extent that he would like - but the texture had been engraved in his head causing him to twist her hair and feel it nevertheless. With every inhale of her hair, Anakin became intoxicated once more by her presence; letting her take hold of his system and make him her prisoner without so much of a sharp gasp in protest.
"All that matters is that I am safe in your arms once more, Padmé," he consoled her with a soothing drone to his deep voice.
Brown eyes remained clenched shut, refusing to reopen and see the scars once more in fear that they would make her legs collapse from beneath her. It disgusted her fervently that anyone would dare harm the man that held her soul. Would inflict such pain as to leave a mark that would remain for the remainder of his life. She burrowed her face deeper, taking in his smell of smoke, chemicals, and other aromas that came with relinquishing oneself to ongoing warfare. The way she could feel his heart, beating rapidly at a steady pace that would seem irregular to anyone else but far beyond normalcy for someone with as much caliber as Anakin Skywalker.
"For too long you have been away, Ani," Padmé said against his chest; her voice feeble but stern. "I don't know how much more of this war I can take."
A sad chuckle reverberated out of Anakin causing her delicate face to bounce in rhythm to the laughter. She couldn't help but laugh despite the moroseness of its nature for the sound alone was like angels singing into her ears.
"Just sit back and relax, my love. I'll take it all from here," he quipped, pressing a strong kiss atop her head.
Brown coils wavered down the exposed ivory skin of Padmé's back, falling away from her face as she lifted it away from the confines of his chest to look into her eyes. Another wave of gratitude swept through her, but now, it was tainted only slightly by the regret she felt seeing his scars. Now, the regret was minuscule compared to the sense of pride that glowed deep in her heart at the sight of them. She knew to Anakin, there would be pride as well, though there would also be failure felt. Pride in the aspect that the scars were a medal of sort, something to display his involvement in the cleansing of corruption within the galaxy in the form of the Separatists. It was the other present emotion she knew resided in him that she feared. Padmé always tried to make him never feel it, for how could one with so many feats feel such an emotion? Failure was a constant thought in Anakin, and she knew it. He would confess, in the sound of whispers and trusting confidence, regrets of things he should have done and could have done better. But these scars weren't of failure, no matter how hard he thought of them as such.
Yes, there were scars that interrupted the glory of his face, but he was alive. Whatever had happened to cause the inflictions, Anakin had survived it. He was alive.
Her thumb gently traced over the healed wound, relishing in the new found viewpoint she had of it. It was not pride, nor failure, that the scars represented. It was a sign of survival - that he had survived whatever it was that had disrupted the flow of his life and would display it for the world to see.
With overwhelming thickness, her voice said the words that held only the surface of the passion she felt for the man holding her with such a gentleness that she was sure she would break in the fragile grip. "I love you."
His lips were on hers and his hands traveled down the contours of her lightly clothed body. There was a firmness to his touch, as if Anakin wanted to feel every ridge of protruding bones, folds that her soft skin made, and every single bump that rose in the wake of his finger like a language only he could decipher with his touch. His mechno-hand - though of durosteel encased in the leather glove he always wore to elude others into thinking it was a human hand - acted like that of a human hand. Beneath the material, the metal ligaments whirred with excitement, reacting as such from the intensity that his thoughts were asking his entire body to react in.
Long legs bent at the knees so that he could reach her face with more ease than he would at his looming height, but in a single thought's grace, hands cupped the perfect roundness just where her thighs met the firm body part of hers that he loved so much and brought her to wrap her legs around the hardness of his waist. It was easier like this, with his arms wrapped around her lean body and her own encasing his head in their hold. Anakin never felt more vulnerable, yet protected, just as Padmé felt so weak, yet so powerful.
Going against all training and instructions from Obi-Wan to not use the way of the Force in a leisure, every-day manner, Anakin used the way of the Force to guide him as he walked them steadily inside the villa.
His hand of flesh and ligament ventured down the caverns of her back. The canyon between the sharpness of her shoulder blades being one of his favourite places to rest his hands upon. The valley of her spine running smoothly with its perfectly placed ridges creating the most fluid of waves that he traced with his calloused fingers. It ignited an array of reactions, both from her skin as it rose in ecstasy at his touch and from her nerves that would spasm causing her body to jolt closer to his.
She could feel his heartbeat crashing against his chest as her own heart answered its lover's calls. At one point, the workings of the muscle that kept them alive became synchronized. Matching each other's pace as if they were working together in constant collision with the bones that formed a cage around them only to break free and become one beating life source. It wasn't like that's how it already was, but to the lovers, if everything could be magnified and taken to the next level, it had to be done. No matter what.
Anakin opened his eyes, the warm glow of the lighting in the interior rooms caused his eyelids to droop but his lips to liven nonetheless. The warmth of both the light and the room's colour scheme brought a radiance to Padmé's ivory skin so that it looked as if she, herself, were glowing. Like an angel that he was returning to heaven; graced with the duty of ensuring her safety and well being only to be paid with her love in return. He hadn't realized just how tightly he was holding onto her - his passion guiding his body while the Force had been guiding his mind - Anakin could feel the bruises he was forming and for some odd reason, he didn't care. And by the reaction he was receiving from her, he surely wasn't alone in that aspect.
It was beautiful in the sense of how lethal it was. Each kiss, each touch only delved his lightsaber deeper into her heart, illuminating it while burning it until it withered away in the cool wind blowing around them. Attempting to clear away the moisture that had exerted out of them but without avail. And, oh, how his saber only continued to excavate what was left of her already exploding heart.
Ravenous kisses began to tear away at her lips, bruising the perfection of their rose hue while her own movements made his lips swell in return. His eyes had all but closed by then as his feet trudged them along, Anakin wanting nothing more in that moment than to drop to the floor and take her right then and there. Yet, at the same time, his heart wanted nothing more than to treat her with such tenderness, with all of the passion his essence could cultivate, that she would melt completely into his touch only to have him follow blindly behind.
Brown eyes opened wide as Padmé felt Anakin's embrace tighten as what she was sure of another surge of his passion for her waved through him - just as she was quite positive that he could feel her own reaction to him every other second if not every second. The lighting in the room elongated the shadows that were cast from his asymmetrical features, making them look dark in places, but the highlights where the Nabooan sunset hit the skin made the tanned skin look even more gold. He was so beautiful, and even then, beautiful was a word too weak to describe Anakin Skywalker. In brutal honesty, no word or phrase could ever portray Anakin Skywalker in the way that it should nor could any thought coherently sum him up. Even the photos available on the HoloNet, or a miniature, blue figure depicted in a holoscan could never illustrate him in justice - nothing could explain Anakin Skywalker, yet everything could.
Padmé pulled away from Anakin then; the immediate protest in his features bringing forth a youthful giggle from deep in her chest, close to her heart. She took hold of his neck then moved her body in a request for him to let her go, which he obliged regrettably. Soft hands trailed down the length of his torso from where they had held his neck, igniting a flame within his chest, stomach, and lower abdomen as they traveled downwards. A cold was left when they were lifted, but the fire remained in his blue eyes as they watched the smirk play onto her swollen lips - lips that he had molded into that specific shape - and the marks he had left on the ivory skin of her back as she turned towards the entrance of the bedroom he had led them into.
The weight of his gaze on her back made her flesh spark. A slow, fierce blush heated its way up her body from an area far too private for anyone to know other than that of her husband, and Padmé knew Anakin was well aware of the sensation he put her under. She was sure that if she turned around right then, she would see a look of smug satisfaction cloaked over his face which would only bring her to roll her eyes with a smile attached and for him to act on impulse from then forth.
Slowly, she pressed the dimmer on the wall pad that controlled the functions of the room, turning off every light in their vicinity; allowing the setting Naboo sun to light their way for the rest of the time it had in the sky.
Though it had been months since they had been in each other's presence, Padmé felt far from self-conscious in front of the only person that she had ever truly felt comfort in during all the years of her life. Anakin saw her for who she was, just as she tried her best to show him that it was more than acceptable on her behalf that he display to her the same light as she presented herself to him - as if her soul were on display.
She was so in love, and there was nothing she could do about it. The only thing that could be done - and something that would continue to pursue even if she tried with all of the self-control she knew was strong within her - was to allow her love to flourish and flow. It didn't matter that his hair was longer. That there were now scars upon his face and he had achieved more in the battles he fought than speeches she could ever hope to give in the Senate. Anakin was still that boy of innocence to her that she had met so long ago and she would always be that young queen that he mistook for an angel. That's how it always would be - just the two of them always discovering each other despite already being found.
Just as she had taken her time to make her way across the room away from him, Padmé followed the same pace as she turned around to face Anakin. The hues cast from the receding sunlight painted a wonder not to the interior of the room, nor the nature outside that seemed to burst into the room by that point, but to man staring at her with complete and utter adoration. Blue eyes were wide, yet slanted, as if they were smiling. Lips were pulled upwards, easy to miss by anyone else, but the most simple of giveaways to Padmé that Anakin was truly happy. It wasn't a smile that was wide and baring all of his teeth, nor was it a smile that made the delicate skin gather at the corner of his eyes. The smile upon his face was small in nature, but it signified tranquility and content. It signified a peace of mind that not even meditation could achieve, and the fact that only she could provoke it alone was enough to bring tears to her eyes. Anakin deserved to always find this state of serenity and to be able to help him find it was enough for Padmé's spirit to keep trying to show him just how incredible he truly was.
He was cocky, at times narcissistic, and knew just exactly what he was capable of - but he didn't truly know it.
With his newfound deep bronze locks, gleaming near silver in some sections with contrasting shadowed undertones, Padmé was mesmerised by the sight before her. If she was not mistaken, there appeared to be a halo that outlined the erratic placement of the hair that wound away from his face. Many had dubbed him the Golden Boy if not the Hero With No Fear, and there was no other time than in that moment that she could see why. Though Anakin was far from a boy, the entire radiancy of the fire tones that shone - burgundy for the shadows, a deep red for the sharp lines, and a golden rose for the highlights - her Anakin was that of pure brilliancy. He could call her an angel, but nothing compared to the God-like presence that paralyzed her advancements. And, oh, how she would praise him for all the justice he had obtained. Drop down to her knees right before him and bow for eternity.
In the seconds it took Padmé to recover the control she had all but lost over her mind, Anakin watched her with sheer ecstasy - and pride. Gone were the artificial lighting and in place were the sun's illumination. Something so natural to clarify the beauty before him. His beauty. His love. His wife. He had earned her, and time and time again, he was reminded just how grateful the Force had been to him by giving her to him.
It is far too often the power of a smile, a kind word, a touch, a compassionate ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring are underestimated. No matter what the action is, they all have the potential to turn a life around. Just like the endless cycle of being reborn and of death, Anakin was reminded of the fateful day that had brought Padmé into his life, and since that day, nothing in his life was without her influence.
The way her wide, brown eyes were hazed over with a thickness as full as the voice she spoke to him about her love for him, to her lips quivering, threatening to smile but holding back to make her explode from the happiness - it was intoxicating. And with the dying sunlight glinting off every sparkling surface within the room, beaming a glitter of rainbows that made her look like the angel he swore she was every time he saw her, he fell more under her spell. Even the skin that was exposed beneath the revealing retreat clothing she always dawned at Varykino shone a shade brighter. Padmé was the definition of perfection.
By the time she had recovered, her delicate hands reached behind her back. Thimble fingers traced over the extravagant stones that held together the intricate beading that wove around her neck, elongating the sharpness of her collarbone. Padmé kept her distance from Anakin, watching him with excogitating eyes, memorising every reaction to her own actions.
A twitch of the finger. The sudden rise of his chest. His full, bottom lip sucked between his white teeth, but only for a second before he tried composing himself… Which Anakin never mastered.
The material fell in a wave of a billowing current. Tones of cyan and chartreuse, silver and diamond, falling away from her petite body like the ocean revealing its most precious pearl in offering. His breath hitched, his mind completely overwhelmed and incapable of doing something that was meant to keep him alive. For all he cared, he would be able to die a happy man at the sight of such an entity before him. And he wanted to possess her, body and soul.
Padmé lifted her chin, setting her shoulders and encasing the slight chill of the tiled floors to muffle the burning flush peaking at every crevice in her body. She led her footsteps towards him, closing the distance though she had never felt closer to him. The power he gave her, instilled in her with just the bewitching gaze of his heavy, blue eyes - it was dangerous. "How dangerous," she would often realise when thinking of her husband. "I finally have something truly worth losing."
She had her causes she fought for. A planet to look after, along with her people. And the well-being of the galaxy - but nothing compared to Anakin Skywalker. Padmé would die for many things, but if it meant not having another day with Anakin, it wasn't worth dying for.
Upon the bodies reconnecting with one another in distance, a gloved hand was raised to the softness of a cheek ablaze with the most brilliant of pastel scarlets. It was the hand of the most advanced of machinery, working in unison to achieve the impulsive instinct to touch the face of a woman he was still quite sure wasn't real. When the woman leaned into his touch, Anakin brought his fingers, the ones still capable of the gift of true sensory and touch, and began to trace the satin skin with a delicacy he was not even aware he was capable of.
His touch brought sparks to prick the depths of every pore causing the hills between them to rise like mountains in the fingers' wake. Padmé was in awe and wanted to feel his all. The coarse leather, though familiar in all its sense, masked what was beneath it - something she praised, not shamed as Anakin did. Fingers were brought up to work on the latches that held his glove in place, concealing the golden durosteel that made up his right forearm and hand. The motors within stopped moving, as did his venturing ligaments that had been scoping her skin, but she continued. Once the metal was unlatched, the restriction released, Padmé pulled her face away just far enough to allow the glove to come free before placing her cheek back into the caress of the cold metal. She knew to Anakin, this act made him feel complete vulnerability for revealing something he loathed, and to harness this emotion, she threw the glove onto the floor while kissing the palm of his golden hand.
The sole action alone was enough to calm Anakin to no means. Padmé had always been the type of person to prove to him that the most gentle of actions could tame even the most wild of beasts, and he was the example. Always irrational, working on impulse. As long as an objective was done, it did not matter what had to be done to achieve it – it would be done. Pride was a dominating factor in his soul, always wanting to prove himself not as weak, to prove that he would never fall back or resort to the person he was on Tatooine – a slave. Anakin would never be that, ever. Yet, in a way, he was. He would always be a slave to Padmé's doings. Whatever he did would immediately be influenced by the thought of whether or not she would approve, if she would benefit from it.
She was his master, and though he knew he should be scared of it, he couldn't help but not be. Anakin couldn't help it at all. How could he when she was the farthest from cruel, unless one counted the constricting hold she had on his heart. Clenching her fist and squeezing all the remaining life from him whenever he thought of her. Wanting nothing more than to meet with her in spirit so that they could combine themselves and become one just as they always should be.
An overwhelming sense of clarity surged through Anakin then. With her soft face, the sensation of it against his hand all but memorized despite his incapability to actually feel it with his droid hand. He still remembered, and the effect it brought was astounding. It made him want to grovel at her feet and do her bidding. His chest felt tight and his fingers ached with the wanting to touch her even though he already was. And, more than anything, Anakin wanted nothing more than for Padmé to sigh as though her heart was breaking, smile with sheer happiness, and at last, to cry out in his arms from the pleasure only he could give her. Whether it be physically, or mentally, both were as satisfying as the other to him.
Retracting the hand that was happily delving into the caverns of her lower back, Anakin brought it to the hook holding his cloak to his body and unclasped it, letting it drape to the floor in a dark wave. He used his golden hand to bring Padmé's face to his, her eyes now closed as she relinquished her self-control, leaving her with an inability to leave the kiss he was now bringing to her lips. It wasn't as if he could pull away, either. The taste of her love was a delicacy that only he could indulge in - something he would overindulge in.
As his hands were occupied with caressing her face to his, her own smaller hands set themselves palm down onto his herculean torso, feeling the ridges and rises of his muscles even beneath the layers of fabric he wore. They traveled blindly downwards, but his body was something she'd never forget, so Padmé allowed her own replication of the Force to guide her actions. It wasn't until she had hooked her fingers onto his belt that she had to pull away and look downwards. She was hesitant on taking hold of his lightsaber when she heard a chuckle come from above her.
"It's only a lightsaber, Padmé," Anakin said with great nonchalance.
A scowl formed onto Padmé's near perfect complexion, the expression impulsively causing Anakin to rise his thumb to the line to press it away.
"It's a weapon of the Jedi, not just anyo-" she began but was interrupted by his finger on her lips to silence her.
Anakin unclipped the sleek hilt - with ease and comfort, Padmé noticed - and held it out to her, as if to prove that it was as harmless as the crown that decorated her hair. Then, in his typical manner - and she didn't need to look up to see the smirk on his lips - he used the ways of the Force to send the hilt across the room and, with great skill, he set it on top of one of the tables. Or, at least, she heard the metal upon smooth marble for his lips were upon hers, stealing her senses, before she could see him set it down.
"And your lips are a weapon not just anyone can touch," Anakin whispered as he pulled away for just a second to allow the words out.
Fingers began to retrace the linings of her nude body, continuing with what they had started in the first place. The curve of her breast; the hardening nub of her nipple as he imprinted it with his index and thumb. Padmé had already gone on to her own ventures, one that included bringing Anakin to the same state of raw nudity as she was in. If she were to be subjected to his mandations - one she was wholeheartedly consent with - then he certainly had to be, as well.
Within the course of his fingers traveling from the sockets of her collarbones down to the protruding bones that came with the tightness of skin from her pelvic bone, Padmé had removed his belt, center sash, and the tabards that hung from his broad shoulders. Anakin was traveling quickly and it was only a matter of time before the smile on her lips would break the embrace their lips had with one another. And it did almost immediately.
It was her turn to take hold of his face then, entwining her fingers into the soft bronze coils that wrapped around the nape of his neck only to guide him downwards, bringing his face to her. Padmé didn't give him the relief he sought just yet. Instead, she pressed long, lingering kisses to the various features of his face.
Anakin was taken aback at first, halting all actions as her lips melted onto the corners of his mouth, up towards the tip of his nose only to fall sideways onto the new scars upon the side of his cheek. He felt content once again, choosing to allow her tenderness to fill him and cloud his system with great serenity. His own movements became drowsy, as if Padmé were drugging him - intoxicating him.
Then her lips hovered above his skin, not exactly touching the flesh but close enough that he could visualize tiny, open palms reaching up like daggers into the air. Reaching up and doing whatever they could to attach themselves to her lips and bring her to them. But they couldn't, for her point of destination had arrived.
Anakin froze once more, his chest nearly bare. He would never get over the gentleness that was known as his wife. The way that it radiated into his own system, an extreme tenderness that in no way was tentative solely because Padmé could just as easily provoke a side out of him that was downright primal. In a way, it was more-so like a promise of power that was known to both but held in a leash; a challenge for one another while at the same time being a provocation when demand began to deteriorate.
And everything was off.
Delicate hands had gripped onto rustic hair while a calloused hand paired with cold metal ventured down the smoothness that had been corrupted with aroused bumps. Their lips crashed in a symphony of sighs and their kisses, constantly rising and falling in pressure and size. Fingers would sporadically touch one another, though they found themselves incapable of not staying on one spot for too long.
Padmé deftly touched the new scars that were raised into intricate designs. Some as clean, straight lines, others that resembled tribal markings like those of the Nelvannian warriors. Nevertheless, Anakin's new scars held an intricacy that only made her love him more - if that were even possible at that point; but she knew it was. He had fought, and he had won.
Upon feeling the silken sheets, purple in colour but having changed to an opaque hue due to the rose flush the setting sky had taken on, Anakin brought his hands that had tangled in her hair to hold her body firmly to lower it onto the bed. He held her tightly, not wanting to be too rough yet allowing the immense cravings he had for her over the previous months of being restricted from her love to be satiated. Kisses were pressed to the hollow of her neck as he brought her farther up into the bed. Impulsively, Padmé would react upon feeling the touch of his skin against hers, rising her hips to meet his, not caring if she were being haste.
It drove him insane.
Ocean eyes opened then, Anakin needing to see the spectacle beneath him, and oh, how beautiful it was. With her skin flushed and her glorious fall of hair that fanned out across the pillow he had rested her head on - it was perfection. Sheer, pure and utter perfection. He had become the hunter and Padmé became his prey.
His white teeth grazed the tight skin over her collarbone after biting the corner of her jaw and nibbling on the ligaments of her strained neck as she gave him further access to her body. She had all but surrendered to him, she had no other choice. Padmé could see her body already melting into his touch. Her mind already incapable of trying to seek dominance in the situation so that she could offer him the love she had sworn to give him. It was when his teeth had taken hold of the erect bud on her breast that she too became like him. A certain primal instinct that turned them into carnivores rather than lovers. Whatever they could get of one another, they would take it without protest.
The hand that had found familiar coils of sweat-damp silken sheets now found themselves clawing at the strict muscles of his arse, nails raking up his backside which produced a sharp hiss that Anakin exhaled onto her breast. The air that came from his mouth was warm and it only caused another wave of chills to shake her body.
"My Annie," Padmé meant to whisper but it came in a strangled moan thick in elated emotion.
How she said his name brought the man back up to her face, lips against hers once more as they refused to allow any more words to escape. They weren't for the world to hear and he would consume them, allowing her cries of passion to fuel his own. The fingers that had deftly traced over her figure before were now venturing downwards towards the soft, unprotected warmth between her legs. She brought in a sharp inhale then, knowing exactly what was coming next and she embraced it with another kiss to his lips. As if inviting him, telling him not to wait. To just go.
Her body shot upwards at the sensation his fingers brought. The crown of curls hitting the soft canvas of the headboard, absorbing her impact just in time for Padmé to bring herself down from the animalistic edge that had surged through her. However, bringing herself back down so that her chest was against his mouth only brought his fingers deeper into her depth. As he was in everything he did, Anakin had excelled in the skill of providing pleasure with something as simple, yet intricate, as his fingers within her. His mind became one with hers; seeking what she wanted, what could be done to obtain it and ultimately how much of it he had to do to achieve the ultimate ecstasy for her.
This was all for Padmé. Anakin had no other incentive to do this with anyone else, nor would he ever seek to. She deserved the universe, and if his love was the closest thing to achieving the ultimate power within her, then he would be hers alone forever.
The metallic hand that had all but lost the coldness it seemed to always possess, now absorbed the heat it was touching and becoming like the skin it wanted so desperately to be. Though the way it held Padmé at points were too rough for even the smoothness of the metal, no complaints were made on her part so Anakin continued on. If he had nails, they would be marking her skin. If he had a pulse, she would be able to feel it. If he had fingerprints, her touch would become his own and there would be no form of identity in him other than of her.
A low groan vibrated out of his chest, the noise echoing out of the hollow of her neck where his lips had been attached to. The way her chin turned upwards, giving him access to the length of her long neck always turned him into some sort of animal that wanted nothing more than to draw blood and become satiated with its kill. A primal, feral part that influenced the motions of his fingers to grow more hungry with the necessity to go deeper. To produce more of a reaction. Anakin curled his fingers into a come hither motion, his thumb holding the exterior of the very heat he was working to unwind.
Padmé had brought her hands to his hair. Knotting her fingers through the knots that were obtaining quite a bit amount of sweat, but it wasn't due to the exertion he was displaying on helping her achieve euphoria. Anakin was finding it harder and harder to restrain himself from taking her every other second. The sighs intermingled with the moaning of his name, it drove him to a part of his mind that he never wanted to go to. A side that whispered for him to not care for her safety and to ensue to the most impetuous brutality to achieve his own personal pleasure. It was a part of him that he feared and always repressed. But he would never do that, especially now as her hands took hold of the sides of his face as her forehead touched against his.
They shared each other's air. Anakin inhaling as Padmé exhaled only to have it be a cyclical exchange. She moved her hips against his hand, his gold hand of durosteel holding the small of her back and guiding her through her impulsive actions.
It continued until finally, she came free.
Tears fell from the corner of her eyes, the moisture gathering on her eyelashes and the intensity of emotions that coursed through her blood like the most lethal of drugs. Padmé had taken hold of her lower lip with her teeth, but before she could bite down to stifle the noises that were impetuously leaving her system, Anakin had taken hold of the swollen skin and was now extracting her elation. Everything inside of him smiled with a smug air, feeling proud of the achievement he had done. Better than any battle he had won thus far, and for any to come if it should be tallied into the comparison at hand.
Even with her breathing coming haggardly as she tried to regain some form of calm after meeting her high, it was a fight she could never win. Anakin made it near impossible, for with each kiss to her lips, every touch that impacted, her conscious was thrown over a metaphorical cliff with no way to climb out of the cavern.
Anakin removed his fingers from their placement inside of Padmé, using both hands now to take hold of her hips as he held her as close as their bodies would allow. Bodies, he thought. What a silly thing to separate us from truly being together. After the thought was said within his head, he brought his hands to take hold of her head once more; holding her to him as he kissed her with such clarity that nothing would ever be able to mistake his love for her ever again.
The sun had near set by then, but Padmé could still see Anakin as if the sun were in the room with them. However, with the kiss she was receiving, the sun was in no way capable of being as bright as the exuberance that Anakin radiated. The night would cower if Anakin Skywalker walked out in it because he was the sun.
Padmé slid her hands downwards then, taking hold of his ribs as she allowed his tongue to enter her mouth in a sporadic dance to venture into points she wanted him to venture to. It was still hard to breathe, the quick rise and fall to her chest interlaced with the rapid beat of her heart. But it was his turn. It was long past due to be his turn. Anakin was the one returning from war for only the battle new how long. They might have a week, or they may only have that single night.
Delicate hands took hold of his hips, feeling the muscles that wrapped themselves around the bone flex as she brought forth the usage of them to bring his lower half down closer to hers. Padmé knew that he was restraining himself, trying to let her get some of her bearings back before continuing the activities that they were pursuing. This thought brought an endearing smile to her face, choosing that moment to offer some resistance to the actions he was pursuing with his tongue. She could feel the shock as Anakin hesitated slightly, not expecting her to arise conflict towards his dominance. It was a hesitance short lived as he met Padmé at a mediation, allowing her tongue to venture into his mouth but not far enough before he pushed both himself and herself into the sweet warmth that was her.
It came naturally then. Fighting while not necessarily fighting. Each one wanted nothing more than to prove to the other that they loved them far more stronger than even love could provide. Her body rocking upwards into his with Anakin having no temperance in ceasing her movements thus leading him to abide. Just as he was internally, he was glorious externally, and this revelation never ceased to amaze Padmé in the slightest. Though her hands had yet to remove themselves from their tight grip in his hair, she forced herself to unclasp one of the first and bring it down, shaking with the frenzy inside of her. He had taken to nipping and sucking, tasting and inhaling the skin beneath her jawbone as she brought her head to the side, making her jaw more pronounced for him. As he felt her hand making its gradual way downwards, Anakin removed his lips from where they were clasped to her jaw and returned them to their home on her mouth. At the same time, his mechno-arm impulsively went to meet her hand, the electrostatic fingertips allowing him to feel the rapid heart rate just as his chest felt with her heart against his. Their bodies were already rocking in rhythm with each other so just as he took her hand, he helped her achieve its objective by wrapping her thin fingers around the part of himself exploding in the necessity to have her. He helped her guide him toward her and though he waited for her consent it was done without thought on her end as the pressure of her depth around him caused a guttural groan to echo throughout the room.
It was in that moment that Anakin Skywalker truly became one with her. His body moving to the rhythm of her own. The rise and fall to the jagged heart, attempting to consume the shallow amount of oxygen filling her lungs. He felt himself become like an electric current, running through her veins and rooting itself inside her; branching out and absorbing anything that would stunt the energy she was emitting and that they were now sharing. Anakin pulled against her grip, but Padmé brought him closer to her as if the mere centimeter would break the bond they held. He pressed even deeper than before, his long hair curtaining around her face as her own coils spiraled over the wrinkled sheets beneath her. She was a goddess of all moons and suns, all planets and galaxies to Anakin. Yet, to Padmé, he was exactly that. Together they were everything that ever existed and they were only creating more with the love they were releasing onto each other.
"I love you," he whispered repeatedly into the air surrounding to which she answered in kisses. No coherent word could be made in that moment, only actions.
A sound like a whimper came from Padmé, threatening to escape the knot of arms and bodies the two had fell into. Anakin was on his knees and toes, his ankles touching hers as he strategically used his legs to hold her apart so that he could satiate both of their necessities more efficiently. Her hands were grabbing onto his face, hard, and the pressure only intensified his actions. He pressed further, deeper until there was no where else to go. There was nothing else to do except attempt to kiss her, to attempt to tell him she loved him, but all that could be done was to try and achieve the pure connection they had been trying so desperately to achieve.
The fire within burned up through their bodies, and they could both feel it. Rising and licking at every crevice of their beings. Padmé could feel the bruises forming on her fair skin off in a distant place in her mind, but she didn't care. If she could have his touch burnt onto her skin for eternity, she would, for it would mean that her body would never be apart from his. Apart from what they were sharing. She would be forever branded.
She felt herself nearly beside the brink just at the same moment Anakin felt the same. His movements became that of haste, all fluidity lost as he tried to ignore the restrictions that were his tired muscles fighting for him to stop. He wouldn't dare. He couldn't stop and neither could Padmé. They worked in unison - struggling, but not in the sense as thought they wanted to get away. They were struggling to get closer, fighting the same fight.
Then, with an arm of half steel and flesh that wrapped around her back, protruding ribs racking against the metal at the heavy breathing and a hand that caressed the bulbous mound of her breast with electrostatic fingertips absorbing the warmth; and another arm of pure flesh, hooked under her bare shoulder and a hand that held the back of her head in an embrace - Anakin found his peak. Beneath him, with a sheen of moisture layered on top of her flushed body, bursts of rose hues commingled with the ivory backdrop, both of her hands held the mass of his head so that his face could not leave her vicinity. Padmé held him to her, her mouth open and breathing in the loud exhales of groans that erupted from him at his climax. A joyous smile spread to her open lips and her head impulsively went backwards into the pillow as, she too, found her high.
Her legs wrapped around his with strength, just as his embrace was constricting her to the point where she couldn't breathe - not like it mattered, for she wouldn't even be able to catch her breathe on a clear, spring day - they met each other in a void that only the truest and purest of passion could meet. It was a void created for them, more powerful than the Force and brighter than any sun in the galaxy. It was heaven in the sense of the love and the acceptance that they felt, and it was like hell due to the agony they knew they would feel when they would soon have to leave their haven.
The sun had all but fallen by then, the lovers still in their embrace as the stars began to expose themselves. Their bodies were at each other's leisure with soft caresses and promises of tomorrow made. With the night sky shining down on them, the moon illuminating them like a spotlight, they were the greatest love the worlds could ever imagine. And in that night, it was the most powerful of exchanges between body and soul, both possessed by Anakin and Padmé, that created what would be the very things that bound them together as one.
Brown eyes looked into blue ones, just like they had so many times. The memory gave another moment of life that Padmé knew was slipping inevitably away, no matter how hard she forced her body to stay. She was just so weak, so helpless. Her children, her Luke and her little Leia, they were safe. They would always be safe, she knew it with a burning knowledge. It was the man before her, with blue eyes that shone down to his broken and dark heart, that she knew could be saved. Just not by her.
Being apart from Anakin's presence while being taken to the Halls of Healing finally gave her mind the clarity she so desperately needed. Though it had been difficult to process her surroundings and altogether formulate a single coherent thought, her mind had still been that of a fog with her questions and revelations. They all screamed at her, begging for attention to be processed, but she had only listened to the roar of them all.
What she had put together was the sole thing she wished she hadn't.
Anakin Skywalker - her confidant, her best friend, her lover, her warrior, her husband, and the father to her children - had turned to the Dark Side. Not only that, if not for her intervention, Anakin would have surely slain the Jedi and all that stood for the Jedi Order and the Republic without so much as a flinch. He even had his 501st Legion to ensure it.
Padmé knew what he was capable of. She knew how he was when vengeance was his dominating motive. And she knew that once Anakin was set on a mission, he would not falter until it was complete, no matter what was done to accomplish it in the process. His morality had begun to plummet after the death of his mother. Small instances rooting themselves deeply into his brain and tainting his thoughts with a darkness that even made herself fear for him in a way no wife should fear for her husband. Then, after the betrayal inflicted on Ahsoka by Barriss Offee, the fog was not only internal anymore, but external as well. A coldness would settle at times when they were alone together in their bedroom. When his mind wasn't guarded and his thoughts would consume him - Padmé could feel it.
If Anakin, indeed, was on his way to the Jedi Temple to eliminate the Jedi, it only meant one thing. The only beings that resided in the Jedi Temple during the Clone Wars were the youth, the sick, or the healers - and he was meant to slaughter them all if it had not been for her. Yet, even after stopping him - the internal conflict to lay was still overwhelmingly present.
His soul had been tainted, and she had done what she could to save him, but it went without avail. Padmé had worked to build so many things, yet they all crumbled and she was left alone in its ashes.
Sometimes, a sense of isolation is like acid spilling out of a bottle - it can unconsciously eat away at a person's heart and dissolve it. It can be isolation in the way of being lonely, or in the aspect of being truly alone. For Padmé Amidala, it was both.
With brown eyes of clarity, relishing in that moment so long ago on Varykino - the moment the twins were conceived and the last, true memory of peace between her and Anakin - Padmé stared at her beloved with the dimming light in her mind, her fingers impulsively rising to touch the features of his face she swore the Gods constructed.
"There… Is still good in you," she gasped. She tried to reach for him, but an abysmal cold had taken over by then. "I know there is… Still…"
And with the image of Anakin Skywalker embedded deeply into her mind, she allowed the abyss to take her and her lover away.
