Chapter 10It is not sex that gives the pleasure, but the lover. ~Marge Piercy
In the quiet darkened apartment, Anakin and Padmé had finished their respective drinks and sat together on the largest couch, their arms wrapped lightly around each other.
"Do you feel better, Anakin?" Padmé asked, snuggling closer to him.
"I feel… fine." Anakin said slowly, but he felt – well to honest with himself – more than fine. He felt content. How much of that was to be attributed to Kam's gift, as opposed to Padmé's comforting presence, remained to be seen.
"You look tired," Padmé murmured as her hand rested easily on his thigh. "I'm glad you came, though."
Anakin choked back a giggle. Not yet, he bit back, then chastised himself. What by the gods was wrong with him? Less than twenty minutes ago he'd been as nervous as a fen hare, but now…
"Are you all right?" Padmé asked him for what could have been the fourth time in as many minutes. "You seem… distracted."
Without warning, Anakin leaned over and kissed her, his hand lightly tracing down her side and lingering at her breast. Padmé gasped and pulled away.
"I'm sorry!" Anakin cried, shocked at his own forwardness.
"No, it's all right," Padmé gasped. Her chest was heaving, but she didn't pull the cover over it. "I'm the one who should be sorry. It's just that I've… I've never…"
Anakin swallowed hard, and knew he was flushing. His blood was rushing in his ears; he could hear his heart thundering in his chest, and worse, his tongue felt… loose.
"I…. I love you, Padmé," he gasped. "I don't want to live without you, and I'm sorry if I frightened you…"
Oh Gods, I'm babbling! he thought frantically, but Padmé seemed to understand. She leaned toward him and kissed him tenderly.
"And I love you, Anakin Skywalker," she murmured softly, nuzzling his hair and bringing his hand back up to her breast. "I want you to… I want to feel your touch…" She blew softly into his ear.
Anakin placed his lips on her neck, trying desperately to keep his mind focused. The moment he had dreamed about was here. And yet…
Padmé's hand brushed his thigh again, cautious yet eager. It was clear that she wanted him as badly as he wanted her, but he still sensed hesitation on her part …
It's just that I've never…
Reluctantly, he pulled away.
"Never?" he asked, frightened and hopeful all at once.
Padmé shook her head and laughed lightly. "No," she said simply.
Anakin's heart soared.
"Me either," he admitted with a woozy grin. "But if Schurke had had his way…"
Padmé's eyes widened. "You mean, your friend Schurke is…"
"Liberal with his choice of lovers yes," Anakin finished wryly. "Or so he says."
"And you never…"
"Never!" Anakin said adamantly. "But I don't want to talk about Schurke or anyone else right now." Suddenly, he leaned back into the chair and closed his eyes, fighting a wave of dizziness. Concerned, Padmé drew closer again.
"Anakin…"
"I'm fine," he said softly. "But I think a kiss would serve me well, M'lady…"
Padmé was only too happy to oblige. She kissed him once and guided his hand back to her breast. "How long do you have to wear this sling?" she sighed as she gently traced her fingers over the new apparatus and the cloth that held it in place.
"Kam said she'd look at it tomorrow," Anakin told her quietly. "Perhaps it's just as well. Her… the painkiller…"
"Anakin…"
He kissed her again, savoring the taste of her mouth on his lips. Without encouragement, she placed her hand on his thigh again, higher this time, her fingers kneading into the flesh.
Anakin knew that the infusion he had taken for pain had lowered his resolve, and Padmé's own evident desire only made it worse. He was losing control and for once he discovered that he didn't care.
He kissed her throat, and slowly made his way down as Padmé's hand made its way… up.
Carefully, he reached into her gown and gently freed her breast. Padmé gasped but didn't resist; indeed, her hand had at last reached the place where he longed for it to be. Where he had dreamed it would be for so many nights.
Waves of dizziness came crashing through his brain. The drug was fighting with his mounting passion and he was being swept away.
Padmé straddled him now, one hand carefully reaching into his trousers, flesh to flesh. Anakin took her nipple into his mouth and she buried her face in his shoulder to muffle her cries. She stroked him, both gently and firmly without experience, but with enough enthusiasm to make up for the lack. She began rocking against his thigh in an instinctive need for her own release.
Reluctantly, he pulled his head back to look at – both of her? The world was going grey and there was nothing he could do about it.
"Padmé," he mumbled woozily.
Padmé grew concerned. "Am I doing something wrong?" she asked, and Anakin allowed himself to laugh.
"By all the Gods no!" he giggled. "But… but I… I can't…"
Padmé's eyes wandered to the table and the empty vial, then back to Anakin. "It has a sedating effect?" she wondered aloud. She clung to his manhood like a newly found toy and after a brief hesitation, began her ministrations again, more gently now.
Anakin jerkily nodded his head, which now felt like a load of duracreate. "Yes…" he said slowly, dragging the final 's' sound out like a hiss of air. "You look like … handmaidens…"
He giggled again as his head flopped forward.
"Should I stop?" Padmé asked, reluctance clearly in her voice, but Anakin shook his head clumsily.
"Kiss me," he slurred softly, and she did.
"I love you, Anakin."
"S'is me 'gian…" and she did.
Anakin took a deep breath and drawing on the Force, made a final hard push for lucidity. Just let me say this he thought frantically. And let her say yes…
His body was awash with sensation, and with perfect clarity he looked into her eyes and asked her one final question.
"Marry me."
His body exploded, and his mind was filled with light, but whether it was from the physical release or her reply – or perhaps both – he didn't know.
"Yes."
**
It was barely after dawn when Obi-Wan reached the Senate apartments, and everything was quiet. After confirming that Anakin was indeed not in the Healer's ward, he had come down here without hesitation but now, as he stood at the doorway, he began to have second thoughts.
If Anakin had taken the Senator as a lover - did it really matter?
He turned on his heel to leave just as the door opened.
"Come in Master Kenobi," Padmé said in a quiet voice. She was dressed in a dark blue, and very modest robe with her hair lied loosely behind. It was also apparent that she hadn't been awake very long.
"Is- is Anakin…" he began, but Padmé put her finger to her lips, silencing him.
He is here then, Obi-Wan thought with a sigh and he drew himself up in an effort to compose himself. He found himself embarrassed at the idea of seeing his Padawan in her bed, but now that he was here…
"He's still asleep," Padmé whispered. "His arm – he was in so much pain last night…"
Obi-Wan thinned his lips, but said nothing as he followed her into the sitting room where to his surprise, Anakin was indeed asleep.
On the couch.
With a blanket on the floor next to him.
Fully dressed.
Padmé crept over and gently placed the blanket back over his prone form. Anakin snorted once, but did not wake. Indeed, he seemed to have settled into a deeper sleep.
Curious…
Padmé shook her head. "Can I offer you some tea, Obi-Wan?" she asked politely. "There's a table on the veranda and since Anakin hasn't moved from that place since last night…" She cast Obi-Wan an appraising look, as if challenging him to ask the question.
"All night, you say?" Obi-Wan echoed carefully. "Why did he not return to the Healers if he was in need of treatment, then?"
"The Healer had given me an infusion for pain," Padmé said carefully. "As you can see, it had a strong sedating effect. Neither Anakin nor I knew that at the time…"
Obi-Wan sighed. It was obvious that the Senator was not going to offer any insight on her – relationship – with Anakin, perhaps it was time to switch tactics.
"I think I would like some tea, Senator," Obi-Wan said at last. "And perhaps when my Padawan rejoins the land of the living, we can discuss your return to Naboo."