In the elevator that ascended to her apartment, Obi-Wan stood beside R2-D2 with his hood low over his face. His heart occasionally skipped a beat every time his mind turned to Padme. She continually popped in there, and he continually had to use his best exercises to calm himself, to clear his mind. He was only here to return a droid. Or was he? There was deep implication here, and he could not ignore the throbbing in his body, nor could he control it. He realized he didn't want to.

When he arrived, Artoo rolled ahead of him, opening the door on their arrival and leading the way inside, his head swiveling back with a beckoning boop, to invite Obi-Wan inside. The place was dark, save for a few dim lights along the floor, a fountain trickling somewhere, the lights of the city the brightest thing coming through the vast windows.

Obi-Wan entered cautiously and came to a stop when he saw her. She was at the window, looking out, her hands gripping the thick braid that was draped over her shoulder. Her body was covered thinly by a sapphire negligee, the hem weighed down by a seam of gold, threads of gold hanging from her shoulders, the tips just barely brushing the curve of her rear. There was a slit along the side of it that reached as high as her hips, and when she moved, he suspected that she had nothing on beneath.

"Did you lose something, Senator?"

She didn't look surprised to see that he came. But the way that her long lashes fluttered when she looked at him made it clear that she had been thinking of him as much as he had been thinking of her and his knees were weak.

"I think I've lost my mind," she answered without a second thought.

He crossed the space between them slowly, pushing back the hood from his head. "Did you really send a droid to the Jedi Temple?" He was trying to scold her, but his voice was betraying him in its softness.

"I won't be angry if you leave, Obi-Wan," she said quietly, searching his eyes. "I can thank you for bringing back Artoo and leave it at that. I'm not expecting anything else…"

It was very diplomatic of her to offer him an avenue out of this, to not trap him, and yet open the door so invitingly. She demanded nothing of him, yet he never felt so subjugated. It was easy to justify that this was purely physical attraction, that neither of them had any intention of letting emotions get in the way. There was a fever in the blood that needed to be satisfied, nothing more.

"Your message was received, milady…" He used a coy tone, to counter the tension in her own. In one demonstrative move, he threw off the heavy brown cloak from his shoulders. He deliberately let it fall on top of R2, draping over and covering the droid's prying eye from anything. Artoo squelched in annoyance and rolled into a wall.

Obi-Wan was close enough that she had to lift her chin to meet his gaze. It was easy to forget how small she truly was, her presence so powerful. He intended to gently take her face in his hands, to kiss her with the softness of a summer breeze on Naboo and take her into his arms like a wilted flower. But instead of physical poetry, she seized his face, pulling him down enough for mouths to meet, her arms then snaking around his neck and confining him in a way that filled his head with white noise.

He did indeed gather her up into his arms, but she wrapped her legs around his waist and clung to him, and he had little choice but to support her with his hands beneath her rear, nothing separating the flesh of his hands from the flesh of her behind. Her skin was soft, warm, and he was aching.

Perhaps it was the Force at work, but in the frenzy of kissing her and carrying her at the same time, he found his way into her bedroom without walking into any furniture or walls. He was at least civilized enough to take her to a bed, as a gentleman ought to. She unwrapped herself and stepped away from him, never breaking eye contact as she merely shimmied her shoulders and that negligee went cascading downward along her curves, pooling onto the floor so fluidly it was akin to magic.

Obi-Wan, meanwhile, had more of a task getting disrobed. His belt, heavy with the weight of a lightsaber, then his outer tunic, then the inner tunic, then the boots, then the pants, one layer after another. The moment he peeled away the very last layer, she was pulling him onto the bed, his weight on top of her to kiss him again and he indulged in the taste of her lips, to her throat…

She held onto him tightly, every grip and breath pleading for more. He was hers to command, and she didn't need to utter a word.

Everything ended in a blinding light, the burst of energy between them all-encompassing, igniting.

And still she held onto him, the same fingers that had raked his back now stroking his hair. They were both breathless and trying to regain oxygen, his head swimming and every thought in chaos.

He dropped heavily onto the bed beside her, still panting. She was already sidling up to him, her smooth leg coiling with his as she leaned over him and kissed him lazily.

When the kiss broke, there was silence. Then they both laughed. The tension that had been between them had finally been eased and he felt dizzy with the relief. And the sound of her own giddy laughter only made him more so.

"Well done, Master Jedi…" she teased. "They trained you well."

He looked askance to her dubiously. "I can assure you, that is not something they train you for at the academy…"

She chewed her lip as she looked at him, her face alight with rebelliousness. He lightly toyed with a strand of hair that hung at her temple, letting his knuckle run along her cheek. The dim light of the city's glow that came through the window outlined the dimensions of her face, and he never took the time before now to realize just how beautiful she was. She leaned into his touch, kissing said knuckle, her hand resting on his chest, fingers lightly brushing over the hair. Their eyes met, just for a moment, and the thought flashed into his mind that he would die for her. He would kill for her.

Just that flash was enough to hurl him back into reality.

No attachments.

As gently as he could he eased her off and began to crawl out of the bed. He began to dress. She didn't ask any questions or make any remarks. She simply pulled the silken sheets around her and watched.

"My only fear," she said suddenly, bringing him to pause halfway into his tabard. "My only fear is that we will not be friends anymore…"

It was understandable, and he had felt it too. Rather than express it, he leaned over to take her hand and place his lips on the top of it.

"Nothing will compromise our friendship, Padme…" he said sternly, but gently. "You have my word. Nothing will change how highly I regard you."

She managed a small smile. "As long as you aren't attached to me…" she slipped her hand away and climbed out of bed, draped in the sheets, the entirety of the bed itself between them as if to serve as a barrier. "It would be very unbecoming of a Jedi to ever fall in love."

"And forbidden," he added more gravely.

"Your duty to the Jedi Order is just as important to me as my own political position…" She spoke kindly, and wisely. Yet he felt the smallest degree of pain in his heart for it. "Goodnight, Master Kenobi. I hope it will not be another two years before we see each other again."

He was finally fastening his belt around his waist, the lightsaber heavy with its reminder of his true purpose.

"Goodnight, Senator Amidala."

He bowed from the waist, watching from beneath his brows as she walked through the door, the hiss of a shower turning on following. Now that she was no longer looking at him, now that he was alone, he allowed himself to let out a long exhale, a hand swiping down his face and pulling at his beard.

He felt a little used, but not in a bad way. This was a utilitarian tryst, and whatever whisperings of feelings he had felt, he was confident he could meditate away, as he had done in the past. It was time to return to the temple and meditate. A lot. And he too would need a long shower to rid himself of the intoxicating smell of her.