Anakin grunted with exertion, on the tail end of his workout. His knuckles ached, his head pounded. The only thing he clung to was the force, letting it move through him, spinning along every thought and emotion.
Padme was naive for letting that dickhead near her, and he'd told her as much.
He continued his push-ups, even though his arms burned and trembled. Today had been absolute shit.
He was the sole reason Obi-wan had made it off of Mygeeto alive. He was the one that made the hard decisions that Obi-Wan was too scared to make. They needed that intel desperately, and he was the one that retrieved it.
He'd went from getting scolded by the Council, to bitched at by Obi-Wan, and then treated like he was stupid by his own wife.
He flipped on the black mat, going straight into sit ups. Sweat slicked down his back, his chest heaving. Fuck them. If they couldn't see how what he did was necessary, they were choosing to be blind to facts.
His com-link, where he had abandoned it along the mirrored wall, buzzed again under the harsh fluorescent lights. Probably Obi-Wan. Probably still pissed about earlier, and probably pissed that he was missing a mandatory meeting currently. Whatever.
His abs rippled in pain, but he pushed harder, faster, straining. He let the pain bring his focus in.
This was the third time now that Rush Clovis had made a pass at Padme, and she was either too nice or too political to shut him down for good.
Anakin didn't consider himself nice or political. He looked at the cuts on his knuckles and the memory flooded his mind.
He'd left Padme's after a screaming match, stalked Clovis home, and slammed him against an alley wall without a second thought.
Anakin was taller than him by a good few inches, and he saw Clovis face fall from shock to realization and then a sneering understanding.
With his arm pushed against the senator's neck, Anakin almost snarled in his face. "Can't see when you're not wanted, Senator?"
"Jedi," Clovis droned in a low tone. "Shouldn't you be meditating under a tree somewhere?" He squirmed slightly, if only to be able to speak with Anakin's forearm crushing into his throat. "Or whatever other useless shit it is you all do." Anakin had had his brushes with Clovis in the past, but had never outright called him out on his shit.
Tonight would be different.
Anakin reached down, his saber flying into his hand a second later, his anger flashed through him: hot and sparking. "You'll stay away from her. From now on." His saber was still retracted but the hilt was pushed to the senator's temple.
One click, one thought, and the blade would shoot through his brains. Anakin couldn't help his mouth twitching up at the thought. An asshole like Clovis wouldn't be missed.
The man's eyes narrowed, and Anakin saw only a shimmer of fear. Which wasn't nearly good enough. "You wouldn't dare. You'd be expelled from the Order. I know the silly rules you're bound to."
"Try me," Anakin said, pushing his saber closer into his head.
Clovis eyed him, considering. "It's clear you've formed some sort of an attachment. Isn't that taboo for your kind?" He shifted his weight beneath the forearm pressing into him again. Anakin said nothing. "Not that I can blame you, Miss Amidala is rather attractive - and intelligent, to be sure. Far too smart to return the annoyingly persistent advances of violent, young Jedi."
"Approach Padme again, and your life is forfeit." He said it slowly, his voice low.
Clovis laughed in his face, "Oh, I'll do more than approach her. In fact, I'd like to have that pretty mouth of hers -"
Clovis didn't get another word out, Anakin had thrown his saber to keep himself from beheading the man, while in the same movement slammed his fist into the side of his face.
Clovis rocked to the side, going down. His hand went to his mouth, blood dribbling. "You childish-"
Anakin kicked him in the gut, pulling him up just to slam his knee into his nose. Clovis tackled him around the waist, both men going down. He got in a few punches before Anakin flipped them, slamming his fist down again and again.
Once Clovis' babbling turned to grunts and then silence, Anakin stood, kicking him in the gut again for good measure. The Jedi's breath was ragged, his vision still red, his rage splintered and blazing inside his chest.
As good as it felt to fight with his hands, Anakin wasn't done.
With a tendril of the force, he snapped his left femur. Then the right. The crack of his bones thrilled Anakin, the sound like pure justice.
He bent down now, squatting near his head. Anakin gritted his teeth, looking down at the man. His face wasn't much more than torn skin and blood, some places already purple and swelling. Satisfaction, undiluted by guilt, flowed through him.
He put two fingers to his bloody temple, willing him awake.
One eye was able to open and Anakin immediately replaced the memories of what had happened here: he was attacked, cannot remember his attacker, but left the threats about Padme as a deeper memory, an innate fear. One that he would feel to his core if he ever even thought of his wife again.
Anakin's com-link buzzed loudly and he was snapped back to the present, still burning through his sit ups.
He force pushed the black band further away, across the small gym, and moved to the pull-up bar.
He had been here for hours now, no one really came to this facility. It was tucked away in the Jedi temple, and old enough to where training Jedi preferred the newer and more impressive machines in other parts of the temple.
He pulled himself up, his knuckles pained where the skin had split.
He could still hear his com-link buzzing, the annoying sound ringing in his ear. Just like it was when he'd arrived at Padmes after storming out of he and Obi Wans conversation.
Earlier that day, the council ruled his decisions in Mygeeto rash and reckless; and he was to be indefinitely suspended until the council could discuss his "actions" further. It took all of Anakin's focus not to let his anger crush his insides, the weight of it like a heated brand in his chest.
It was ridiculously obvious: they either died on the planet with the rest of the village below them, or made it out alive to get the vital intel, the very reason for the mission itself, to the Jedi Council, helping countless other systems in the process.
Obi-Wan didn't see it that way, however. And neither did the council, especially Windu. The Grand Master wasn't just indifferent to Anakin, he targeted him constantly, questioned him endlessly, and always had criticism to spew, never praise, never a thank you. Not for Anakin, anyways.
He grunted through his pull ups, but his mind was in the council chamber, high ceilings, starships shooting past beyond the wide windows, surrounded by the most powerful and wise Jedi in the galaxy.
All looking at him with narrowed eyes.
Anakin clenched his jaw, biting the inside of his cheek, working to keep his emotions in check.
"What did you take from your training that had you convinced your lives were more important than a village of civilians?" Windu pressed.
He tried and failed to hide his utter disbelief at the turn in conversation. He thought he'd be rewarded, return a hero, not subject to an internal investigation. Obi-wan stood beside him, hands clasped together, head slightly lowered. But Windu's questions were for him, so Anakin responded- "How else would we have made the mission a success? We did everything in our power to help those people. We had to get out, had to get this information out."
Disappointment hit him from all sides, like a wave through the force. He gritted his teeth, trying again. He turned to his Master - "Obi-Wan, tell them. Tell them our options were low and-"
"Low, Anakin. But not impossible." Obi-wan sighed, and more than a small part of him felt betrayed at the words. "I told you, I believed there were other paths, ways we could have saved the village and moved the intel-"
Anakin cut him off, "But none guaranteed - this was our best shot."
"At what cost, Skywalker?" Windu questioned again from where he was seated in the circle surrounding them, his face hard. "Do you stop to think about the further reaches of your decisions? If any survivors remain, they will live to tell the tale of the Jedi that abandoned them, that killed their family and friends for the sake of having the upper hand."
It was all spinning too quickly out of Anakin's grasp, they wouldn't listen, wouldn't understand the heartbeat he had to make these decisions, to turn the tide of this war in the Republic's favor.
Once dismissed, he stormed from the room in a fit, smothering his anger inside himself, ignoring the stares from the other council members. "Anakin, slow down." His master trailed him.
Obi-Wan caught up only to reprimand him in a quiet hallway, like he was still a young Padawan in need of a firm hand.
"Anakin, listen. You cannot push the council like that. The situation on Mygeeto was… sensitive, I do agree. But if they rule it to be-"
"If they rule that I broke the code, then they're automatically right and I'm wrong? I should be dismissed?"
"That's not what I'm saying, but you do have to follow the code, Anakin. It's what makes us Jedi."
"What if the code is wrong?"
Obi-Wan looked at his apprentice then, like he was just now seeing him. "The code cannot be wrong. And it is what we are vowed to, what you are vowed to."
Anakin, his frustration blurring his thoughts together, scoffed hatefully at the words, and continued walking away from his Master. This time, Obi-Wan did not follow.
His com-link had stopped buzzing, and Anakin's arms dropped from the pull-up bar, the memory of Obi-Wan and the council from earlier today melting away. The pain settled him, the exhaustion grounding him in the present. His anger still blazed, though, a flame he couldn't fully extinguish.
He moved to a rock wall, beginning to scale the side.
After his talk with Obi-Wan he had gone to Padme's apartment, sure she would agree with him on the mission turn out, and his exhausting efforts to get the council the intel they requested.
However, he passed Clovis on the stairs. Senator Clovis, the sniveling shit head that was constantly pursuing his wife, constantly everywhere she was. He hadn't seen her in about a week, and all thoughts of a reunion were smothered at the sight of him.
Clovis didn't seem to notice the hooded Jedi as he descended the grand staircase with a smirk on his face that set Anakin off. What the fuck was he doing here, in Padme's building? It was late evening, the sun already falling behind the Coruscant skyscrapers.
But no, Anakin wouldn't fool himself. He knew exactly why the Senator was here.
His hands were trembling with anger when he knocked, and then lost patience after a few seconds, unlocking Padme's apartment door with the force and swinging it open.
"Was Clovis here?" Anakin stepped past his wife as she had been approaching the door. He scanned the walls, the doorways. "Was he inside your apartment?" Nothing seemed amiss, but that doesn't mean he wasn't missing something himself.
"Anakin," Padme said, surprised. "I didn't know you were coming by." Why was she surprised? Was she trying to hide something from him?
"I don't want you seeing him again."
"What? Clovis dropped off a bill he wants my support on, Naboo's support." She motioned to a stack of papers on her desk.
"He always wants something from you. He's always inching in." Anakin began to pace, explaining this situation to Padme. She didn't know what men were capable of, the lengths they would go to. But she was reasonable, she'd understand his request if he could just explain it.
"Inching in? It's work, my love. Politics." Padme stepped to him and he shook her off, continuing to pace.
Is that really what she thought? "Padme this is more than that, you're being willfully blind at this point."
She shook her head, her eyebrows pulling together. "Would it matter either way? I am loyal to you and you alone, regardless of his intentions."
"Well you're certainly not making it hard on him." Anakin knew it came out sour and sharp, but he couldn't not say it. "And while I'm out nearly getting killed in a fucking war, you're in your penthouse entertaining this shit. I can't even trust my own wife to be on my side-"
Padme was continuing to shake her head, making to interrupt, but Anakin plowed ahead. "You will not see him again, work or not, politics or not, I don't care if the whole fucking galaxy hangs in the balance." He stopped pacing, and turned to his wife with finality. "You will not see him." If she didn't want to lay the boundary, he would.
Padme's mouth popped open in disbelief, but she gained composure quickly and responded quietly but not weakly, "You will not order who I can or cannot speak to, Anakin. Especially not when it comes to my work and my people."
Anakin groaned in frustration, running his hands through his hair. In an effort to protect his wife from her own naivety, she thinks it's about control? She was more ignorant than he even thought.
His anger roiled in his gut. "Go ahead then, go ahead and fuck Clovis and get it out of your system. Then maybe we'll both feel better." He hated the words even as they came out, but his chest was full of pride, clawing to get out.
"What the fuck, Anakin?" Padme was raising her voice as his own had raised. "What is wrong with you? Why would you even say that?"
"What? Do you want me to say it slower? It's obvious, Padme. He's trying to get to me, he wants to fuck you, and at this point you might as well let him."
"Anakin, think about what you're saying for half a second. You're stressed or pissed about whatever happened on Mygeeto or with the council and so you think this is a channel for your anger?" She motioned in between them. "You're wrong. You're just being hateful and fucking rude."
"Don't assume you know what I do, Padme. You have no clue what you're talking about."
"I know you, Anakin." She pursed her lips, looking at her with her head tilted, her eyes hard. "Tell me what happened on Mygeeto."
"Don't change the subject. I did my job on Mygeeto. Did what Obi-wan was too cowardly to do. End of story."
"Obi-wan is no coward."
Anakin grimaced, looking down at his wife. "You will defend every man's honor but my own."
"Is it honorable to call one's Master a coward? Honorable to storm in and accuse your wife of adultery? What honor am I defending, Anakin, because I'm sad to say, I cannot see what you speak of so confidently."
"You're satisfied holing up in your council chamber and arguing while we fight and die in a war your fellow senators created. And you think you can talk about honor? Where is the honor in politics? In letting others fight your battles?"
"The Republic fights for the rights of the people."
"Blood is on your hands, Padme. On all of your hands." His eyes flicked to the stacks of papers on her desk. "Maybe if you'd stop flirting with your fellow senators and actually do your job, your husband wouldn't be sent away so often."
"Maybe if you listened to the council and to Obi-wan, you would be a Jedi worthy of honor. But instead you're insecure and arrogant. And I can see right through you, Anakin."
Anakin got close to her, his aggravation growing, but Padme didn't retreat a step. "I'm the only one in the fucking Jedi temple, no in the whole fucking galaxy, with a mind of my own. And it pisses everyone off. When I get things done my way, it's the wrong way. You don't know the first thing about honor, or war, or death. You don't know the responsibility I carry. You don't know the decisions I have to make, or how hard it is to make them."
"I'll make one for you, then. Get out." She huffed another breath, and pointed at the door. "Leave. Now."
Anakin shook his head, rolling his eyes at her dramatics. "Fuck this," he muttered, heading out her front door.
Anakin slammed it behind him, immediately force crushing a vase and glass table in the hallway.
He has scaled the wall three times now, jumping back down to the gym mat. He examined his knuckles again - after he'd tracked down and did what Clovis had coming to him, he came straight here.
Everyone in his life seemed determined to paint him as the bad guy. Every turn he made dug him deeper.
He plopped down onto the mat, his knees pulled up, he rested his elbows there, hanging his head between them.
Again his rage flowed through him, but this time, he let it sweep him away, let it burn through his veins and push into his heart. He could feel his pent up energy still within, like it skittered just below his skin, needing to be released.
When his wife's life force entered the room, Anakin's head shot up. There was only a hooded figure that slipped through the doorway, the face shadowed.
It was Padme, no doubt. But that usual bubbling, clever force light of hers was… wound tight. Almost fizzing. Guarded.
"Go home, I don't want to talk."
Padme only approached, taking his hand and pulling him up and toward what Anakin assumed was a storage closet. He didn't know why he even let her.
She pushed a button that closed the door behind them, locking it. Some boxes, old equipment, rolled up mats, and weights were gloomy in the darkness of the closet.
Anakin gave her a look and she whispered, "No cameras," crossing her arms.
He shook his head, annoyed that he couldn't see her eyes, Anakin reached down and yanked her hood back. "What do you want, Padme."
The only light came from the crack beneath the door and some control panels. "I'm angry with you."
He clenched his fist, his split knuckles shooting with pain. "Mm. I had no idea."
She bit her lip, but tilted her head, her eyes narrowing. "What you said earlier, did you mean it?"
Anakin blew out a huff of frustration. They both had said a lot of shit. His hands itched, he wanted to punch something, or rip apart metal with the force. "I'm not doing this right now, Padme."
"You want me to fuck Clovis?"
Anakin stilled. He said nothing even as rage threatened to spill out of him at the question. It was as if all his anger from his fucked up day was now directed at that question that fell from his wife's lips.
Now directed at his wife.
Padme took a step forward, looking up at him, her eyes barely catching the dull light. "You want us panting, sweating, grabbing at each other like animals? You want his tongue sliding down my throat?" She took another step, their chests nearly touching. "Want me sitting on his cock?"
Anakin grabbed her shoulders, pushing her against the door, rougher than he usually allowed himself to be. "Shut the fuck up." He said it quietly, slowly, right in her face.
Padme's expression was a mixture of anger and challenge. And need.
They shared breath for a moment, Anakin pressing her into the door.
Her eyes dropped to his lips, for just a fraction of a second. He had no time to think. He kissed her hard, his whole body now pressed into hers, mouths melting into each other. He needed to touch her, to claim her.
His hands roved, angry at the thick fabric that separated them.
Padme's chest heaved and Anakin roughly tore at the strings there, opening her heavy robe.
It fell, pooling at her feet. She stood naked before him, panting slightly, lips swollen.
Anakin took a step back, assessing, resisting the urge to grab her again. Plenty of ideas flitted through his head at that moment. Some were feral, some were angry, and some were absolutely filthy.
But one stayed, one image was burned into his psyche.
He glanced to his right, then back at her, holding her stare, her eyes blazing. He pointed to the stack of boxes beside them. "Bend over." Still panting slightly, Padme cut her eyes to the boxes and back at Anakin, hesitating.
"Don't make me ask you again."
The command hung between them for a moment. She took the few steps to the boxes, bending over them at the waist, her upper body over the top.
Utterly naked and vulnerable. His to claim.
Anakin stood behind her, running a hand over her ass. He peeled off his own clothes, damp with sweat, until he just had his black briefs on.
He gripped her ass again, leaning over her, letting her feel the press of his hardening cock, his chest over her back. She kept one cheek pressed to the box, and he bit up her neck, breathing into her ear - "You're going to do exactly as I say."
She pushed her ass against him, and he held her hips down firm with his other hand. "Don't fucking move."
Padme went still, perched on her toes a bit to lean over the boxes.
He pulled his hips back a bit, standing up and replacing the pressure there with his hand, stroking her at the apex of her thighs. "Now, I'm going to lick you. And I don't give a fuck if it makes you feel good. I'm licking you so I can fuck you." He leaned back over, breathing into her ear - "Do you understand?"
Padme nodded her agreement, her hair fanned out behind her.
"And you're going to stay quiet."
"If anyone comes into the gym-" Padme started.
But Anakin gagged her with the force, and she made a choking sound as her words were cut off. "They won't fucking know."
Anakin dropped to his knees behind where her hips set propped up, her sex already glistening in the dull light.
Her scent of arousal was intoxicating, musky and familiar. He swiped his tongue from her clit up to her entrance, earning a muffled moan through where he still had a bundle of force energy cutting off her words. Anakin licked inside her and upward, thumbing her clit, her sweet cunt growing more and more slick with every steal of his tongue.
When she was as wet as he wanted her, Anakin stood, licking his lips, his hand now going between her legs, moving in slow circles. "I know what you like, Padme."
Padme whimpered beneath him and he drank in the satisfaction of having her at his mercy. His to command, his to pleasure and to take his own pleasure from.
He paused his circling her clit, his fingers moving up to dip inside her. She groaned and he moved, back and forth, curling his fingers and pumping them in rhythmic torture.
"This is mine." He leaned over her, one arm supporting his weight, the other still between her legs. "Say it. Your cunt is mine."
"It's yours, it's yours." Padme ground out, gasping with pleasure.
Anakin hummed his own satisfaction at the words, continuing to work her into a frenzy, and then pulled from her suddenly. "On your knees."
Padme pushed unsteadily off the boxes, turning and hitting her knees a moment later.
Anakin had already kicked off his briefs, and his wife wasted no time. He pumped into her sweet mouth, warm and wet and sucking, her hand tugging at his balls. "Mmmm," Anakin groaned. He fisted her hair in his hand, fucking her mouth. She gagged and he clicked his tongue at her, scolding. "You can take it."
But he didn't want to just fuck her mouth. He pulled her up, only to bend her back over the boxes. Her head turned to the side, drool dripping down her chin, he put two fingers in her mouth, between her swollen lips, "Suck," he ordered.
She wet his fingers, and he swiped across her entrance, giving her clit a few rough circles before putting the head of his dick against her.
Padme seemed to freeze in anticipation, propped on her toes, and he felt almost cruel withholding what she wanted. What her body begged for. Him . And only him, "You want me to fuck you?" He rubbed the tip of his cock against her, and she moaned. "You want my cock inside you?"
Padme let out a groan, and he pulled back the force hold just enough for her to answer. "Yes, yes, fuck yes."
He rubbed his cock, still slick with spit, against her, biting his lip. "Mmm." He again grabbed a fistful of her hair at the root, pulling her head off the surface, her back arching. "Ask me to fuck you and I will. Say your cunt is mine, and I will take it."
Padme sighed breathily, hands pressed into the boxes, holding herself in place. "Fuck me, Anakin. Fill my cunt it's yours, it's all yours, please-"
Anakin smirked at her tone, her desperation, and plunged into her mid-sentence. She moaned, far too loudly, even with the force hold back in place. Anakin reached forward to cover her mouth, pulling out and then slamming all the way back in.
One hand in her hair, one muffling her groans, he rode her. The boxes beneath his wife were solid, but Anakin was thrusting hard enough to shake them, to press Padme's hips against the edge again and again.
Her sweet heat was always better than he remembered. She enveloped him, drove him mad with pleasure. Clovis would never touch her, never get close enough to without losing a limb.
He pumped into his wife again and again, Padme reaching back to grasp at his thigh, her nails digging into the skin there. The mind-scattering pleasure mixed with the sharp pain of her desperate fingers sent him over the edge, peaking ecstasy dulled his thoughts and slowed his movements, and he thrusted through each wave of pleasure.
Spent, Anakin slumped forward. He removed the force hold from her mouth with half a thought, and they both gulped down air for a moment, his chest pushed to her back. Seconds later he pulled out, and moved to shrug his pants back on.
Padme pushed herself off the boxes, still panting slightly. Anakin reached down and picked up her discarded cloak she arrived in, making to hand it to her
She was still guarded, perhaps slightly less. But Anakin could see it in her eyes, regardless of the glazed heat cooling there now.
She held his stare. Opened her mouth, but closed it again.
Anakin still held her cloak out to her. The unsaid words hung between them, palpable in the thick air of the closet. But he was done apologizing for saying what he thought, and doing what was right. What he knew was right.
Seconds passed, until Padme sighed, breaking eye contact and taking the cloak from his outstretched hand.
The only two things that fought for his attention were his commitments to the Jedi, and his vows to his wife. Sometimes, they warred with each other, jarring and incompatible. Sometimes, they attacked him, pinning him with their restrictions and needs.
"Go home, Padme." He pulled his shirt over his head, and left his wife in the dark closet.