Anakin Skywalker was trying his best to walk at a normal pace, despite his heart thrumming in his chest a mile a minute. The hallways of the Senate were rounded and well lit, senators streaking past in packs and couples, whispering or arguing. He nodded to a few Mandalorians that passed.
After weeks away with Obi-Wan on Alderaan, his heart growing heavier everyday, he couldn't wait to be back on Coroscaunt. His lovely wife; wise, kind, and endearingly persistent was only a few floors away. Probably pacing her office, ruminating over some vote or another. Padme Amidala put the other senators to shame. He had never witnessed such fierce passion for justice, words that were wielded by such a beautiful mouth. Such deep, loving eyes, all soft touches and curving planes...
His thoughts lingered a few moments too long, and his reached down to pull at his pant leg, a strain already growing. He shook his head slightly to refocus his thoughts, but Padmé was so close. All he had to do was maneuver this endless stream of babbling politicians a bit quicker.
"Young Skywalker."
Shit. He turned at his name, carefully shaking out his leg as he did, the tightness beginning to grow uncomfortable. "Master Plo."
Master Plo examined Anakin a moment, before smoothly asking - "Where are you off to so quickly?" So much for keeping it cool.
"Master Obi-Wan sent me to Senator Amidala's quarters, for a debriefing on our time in Alderaan."
"Ah yes, and how was Alderaan?"
Amazing, actually. They had single handedly squashed a growing plot against the King, and restored a sense of trust and peace back in their government in a matter of weeks. Not to mention he'd saved Obi-Wan's ass when he fell in a Blurgg den. "It went very well. The territory is back on track with their loyalty to the Republic, and to their King."
"Good to hear. And I trust Master Kenobi is doing well?"
Wrap it up, Plo. I'd much rather be somewhere else right now. "He is, yes."
"Master Kenobi is revered by many. I would count myself lucky to be his padawan learner." Plo leaned in slightly as he said the last part.
Anakin agreed, but also resisted rolling his eyes. Yes, his Master was great, respected, an ideal Jedi. But would it kill him to bend some rules now and then? At least to get things done? He imagined Obi-Wan's exasperated face and almost smiled. "I do, indeed Master."
Plo, now satisfied, bowed his head slightly in farewell. Anakin practically sprinted toward the elevator as soon as he was far enough away.
Padmé Amidala paced her large office for hours after the Senate meeting, the outrage and arguments of her fellow senators still ringing in her head. She stopped her pacing to stand on her balcony, leaning over the rail. Neon lights flashed off metallic high rises, car horns and voices rising from below.
If this vote passed, it would only further the war effort. Padmé was in strong belief that peace was the only way forward, the only true justice for everyone. The Separatists existed, yes, but why fuel the violence? Galaxies can choose which side they were on. Losing needless lives in the process was unnecessary. She sighed, her elbows on the silver rail, lights bouncing off and blurring on the metal. What could she say tomorrow to alter minds, hearts? They needed a majority vote on this, but her intel had suggested it was a 50/50 split at the moment. She needed heavy sway and quickly.
"I love it when you wear your hair like that."
She startled slightly but didn't turn as the voice settled into an all too familiar teasing tone. Padmé pursed her lips to keep in a smile. "Oh? And here I was thinking your favorite was loose and bounding."
"Well, that's no way for a Senator to present herself."
She turned then, shaking her head but unable to contain her smile. "You're late."
"Alderaan was a blast. Just a bigger blast than we anticipated." Anakin, her Ani, stood a few feet in front of her, leaning against the arched frame that exited to the balcony and smirking. Damn him.
Before she could move, he had closed the space between them, embracing her tightly. Padmé hugged him around his waist, his tall, broad form warm and hard against her. And... "Anakin, do you have a..." She looked down obviously, then flicked her eyes back up to him.
Anakin leaned down, brushing a soft kiss against her mouth. Sharing breath, he whispered "I missed you. I missed holding you, Padmé." She about melted in his arms right there. His mouth didn't stop, he trailed kisses down the side of her jaw, down her throat - padmé now raising on her toes, her head thrown back ever so slightly. She felt the hard press of him near her lower stomach as he leaned into her. While that definitely drove part of her nearly animalistic, it also snapped some sense into her. "Anakin, we're on the balcony," she reminded him, somewhat breathlessly.
"So," he murmured, nuzzling in her neck again, planting a trail of kisses slowly.
"So," reluctantly, she peeled his arms out from around her. "Someone could fly by and see us. Let's go inside."
Anakin huffed slightly but stilled in his kisses, head lifting and eyes meeting hers. They were heavy lidded, and he embraced her again despite her protests. "So what if someone sees us. Let them see."
She shook her head at his words, and repeated quietly what she'd reminded him plenty before, "Anakin, you know that's not possible. For either of us."
"Is it so bad for them to see a husband who loves his wife?"
"What they see is a powerful senator and a powerful Jedi. What they see is leverage." She gave him a hard look. "You know that." She slid out of his warmth and past him, back inside and into her living quarters. Yes she missed him, so deeply it had been painful the past few weeks. But what had also been painful was the political turmoil of the Republic, the Separatist's apparent dismissal of lives, and the ruination of democracy as it were. These had struck just as deep.
He grabbed her wrist when she was only a few steps inside. Moving his hands up to her face. "My beautiful wife..." he whispered, that playful look again in his eyes. "So cunning. You're right, of course." His voice was low again, and it seemed to slide right along her chest and soothe her worries. "I only wish to never have to hide my love for you." She backed away as he pushed against her, step for step, until her back was against the wall near her office.
Anakin kissed her deeply then, making a mockery of the feather light touches on the balcony. The mixture of the wall at her back and Anakin's hard form pressing into her had her moaning into his mouth. He untied the back of her dress, slipping it down until it caught on her hips. His hands roamed freely then, leaving her waist to travel up and palm her breast, then weaving in her hair, and back down to the waist, like he couldn't decide where to touch first. Padmé stroked his arms beneath the Jedi robes, pushing them off a bit more with each caress, the skin warm and soft but hard beneath her hands. She felt the warmth in her core, her breast's heavy with the deep need to be touched, everywhere and all at once.
Padmé broke away, done waiting, and took his hand to lead him to her bedroom. One second her bed was a very steps away and the next, she was whisked off her feet and Anakin was carrying her... back toward her office. Her toes curled. He smirked down at her knowingly and she wished she could reach up and kiss him then, but she settled for resting her hand against his cheek. "I missed you, too, Ani. Every night, I dreamed of you. Every day, it was a struggle to tear my thoughts from you."
They reached her office then, and Anakin used the force to wipe everything from her desk, no bauble broken or paper crinkled as they flew to the opposite wall and floated gently to the ground.
"Allow me to show you how much I missed you, my wife." Anakin lay her down carefully on her desk and stood between her legs, leaning over her. Padmé's dress still down to her waist but the skirt hitched up to her hips. His thigh pressed against her aching center and she had to bite her lip to stop a moan from escaping. Anakin noticed anyways, and shook his head. "Oh love, we've barely begun," Anakin spoke softly from over her, a gleam in his eye, his voice heady and deep. He smoothed her hair back from her face as explored her mouth again, his tongue warm and sliding against hers, and she resisted bucking into him. One arm bent to support his weight on the desk, the other working her breast, and with his hard, muscular thigh pressing again and again where she needed it to, Padmé lost track of time, giving herself away fully to Anakin.
Slowly, his kisses pulled from her mouth, down to her chest, where he licked at a hardened nipple, and gave a haughty chuckle when Padmé groaned at the delicious heat of his mouth. "Good girl, waiting for me so patiently..." he coaxed. He stood back then, just slightly grazing his hands over her body, in excruciatingly soft touches. Padmé was nearly trembling with need, and the lack of warmth from his removal was unbearable. "Anakin..." she gritted out. "Hm?" He said, still stroking her. He had completely removed his robes now, and his chest gleamed in the low light, heaving and expanding. He just watched her, expectantly. "Anakin, please." He smiled and Padmé nearly burst with relief. He kneeled between her thighs, and pulled off her underwear in one quick motion, hooking her legs over his shoulders.
That first broad, wide stroke of his tongue across her center had her trembling. By the 5th, she was groaning deeply, unable to stop herself from grabbing a fistful of his hair and pushing his sweet tongue against her.
"You're so wet for me, Padmé. Do you like when I lick you? Do you want more, my cunning wife? Do you want me to taste you some more?"
Padmé had only enough brain power at that moment to decide that she might in fact burst into flames and turn to ash. When she thought she had reached a state of bliss too high to comprehend, Anakin pressed a finger into her, curling it upwards and gently pumping in and out. "Fuck, Padmé," Anakin said between his sinful licking. After a few pumps, he added another finger, and kept a steady rhythm with his tongue against her clit, his large fingers hitting the exact right spot again and again and again. Her breath began hitching and the edges of an orgasm neared. Anakin continued pumping into her, pushing her closer and closer, his tongue a warm, wet pressure guiding her through wave after wave of pleasure. Minutes passed, which could've been infinities for all she knew, and then stars shot through her vision, Padmé going rigid with such intense pleasure. Anakin continued to work into her, against her, not letting up or letting her scoot away even an inch.
As she came down from the high, her body slumped against the desk, her thoughts foggy and distant. She felt Anakin's warmth above her once more, placing lazy kisses along her forehead, her cheeks, her nose. She reached up to grip his neck, weak with the exertion. His hard length pressed against her thigh, and her mind cleared a bit as she reached down to stroke him. Anakin's hand grabbed hers before she got there, and her brows furrowed.
She met his eyes, which she was surprised to find full of worry. "What's wrong?"
"You don't have to do that, we can sleep if you'd rather."
Padme narrowed her eyes at the sudden suggestion. "No, I do want to."
Anakin looked like he wanted to believe her but tried again, "Are you sure? I don't want to push you, if you're tired."
"I'm not tired, Ani," Padmé reassured him, lowering her voice to something sultry and full of promise.
Anakin studied her a moment more before relenting, with a murmured "thank the stars," kissing her deeply. It wasn't long before Padmé again felt that empty ache within her, needing more of Anakin than what he was giving. She felt his own need grow as well, and this time didn't stop herself from grinding upwards in response. Anakin didn't have the kind of control he had earlier, and stood straight, lifting Padmé's hips to pull her closer to the edge of the desk. He took himself in his hand, gazing down at her with a mixture of yearning and adoration. Padmé spread her legs a little further, scooting down on the desk, desperate for the delicious friction she would soon receive.
He licked his lips, and glazed eyes flicked to her breasts. She felt a pressure then, like a kneading press along her chest. Bastard - using the force was cheating. But then again, now was not the time for rules. He smirked down at her, leaning over once again. "Are you ready for me? Do you want me here," he whispered the words against her ear, but slid a finger through her wet heat. She felt him smile at what his touch did to her. Padmé nodded fervently, biting her bottom lip, and savoring the pressure of his warm chest above her.
He pushed his head against her entrance, and then pressed in full in one motion. She groaned, eyes fluttering shut, legs going up to wrap around him. He gave her only a moment to adjust before pulling in and out, at a pace that he knew drove her mad, squeezing every ounce of pleasure from her. He moaned above her, his chest reverberating against her own, and then found a faster rhythm. "Padmé, i can't... holy fuck... motherfuck... padmé..." he groaned in between his words, pushing Padmé again close to the edge of her pleasure. She felt the pressure of the force push down on her clit, moving in a circular motion that had her coming so hard her reality split. All she knew was Anakin in her arms, and the blissful high as her body rode it out. Anakin, continuing his quicker rhythm came only moments later, slumping over her on the desk.
If it wasn't for their damned secret, Anakin would have stayed here forever. Well, he would've at least fallen asleep like this.
But then again, the desk wasn't very comfortable. So secret or not, he wanted to sleep in a bed. Which meant getting up. But he wasn't sure if his limbs worked correctly.
After summoning just enough strength to climb off of the desk, Anakin carried Padmé to bed, his body feeling like weightless jelly, his mind hazy from the pleasure of his wife. Padmé felt so small in his arms, and he held her tighter at the thought. She was so vulnerable, and so valuable. He had to constantly be aware, be protecting, be capable. Nothing and no one would touch Padmé, not ever. He promised himself that, from the moment he laid her into bed until he fell asleep beside her hours later.