Disclaimer: All the things you recognize (except Keturah) belong to George Lucas. Although I wish I were making money off of this endeavor, sadly, I am not. Chapter Four title c/o Fastball.

Rating: PG-13

Love's Dress Rehearsal
Chapter Four: Love is Expensive and Free

He felt her hands over his eyes, blocking his view of the passing speeders. Her fingers were warm, if a bit rough, against his now-closed eyes. He could smell her shampoo as she moved in closer. Clearly, they were alone, or she would not have been so bold. With each word she spoke, the sounds of Coruscant slowly faded into nothingness:

"What is it like to be the Chosen One?" she whispered, causing the hairs on his neck to stand up. "Do you feel the Force differently?"

Anakin turned around to face her, taking her hands between his own. A jolt ran through them both, flowing through the door he had opened on their illicit ride so many weeks before. Hesitantly, he opened himself to the Force. His senses flared to the point that he could identify where every child padawan was stationed. With one tendril, he invited her in.

She burst inside him, a red and green ball of possibility. The connection would have held much longer, had Keturah not pulled away from it. Her face was flushed and her arms were shaking. She swallowed repeatedly, trying to relieve her suddenly dry throat.

"That's not always what it feels like," he said, wrapping his arms around her slender waist. She leaned into him, glad for the release from her own body weight. "But sometimes, when I want to feel everything all at once, I let the Force in just like that."

"Amazing," she said softly, her voice finally returning. "It felt like…like no other moment of interaction with the Force I've ever experienced. How you walk around with all that…" She shook her head and then buried her face into his rough Jedi robe. "You will do amazing things, Skywalker; why else would your powers be so great?

****

Anakin.

At first, he thought it was just another dream. Sometimes, Padme would come to him and speak his name. Other times, it was his mother. Lately, it had always been his mother. Something was wrong at home…

Anakin.

He realized that the sound was not coming from his own mind, but rather from a person just beyond his locked door. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and opened himself up to his caller.

Keturah.

He felt her presence approaching quickly and, with a flip of his hand, he unlocked the door. She had always shoed him out of her room when he came to be with her at night; what did she think she was doing? Somewhere inside, he wondered if he should put on a shirt, but didn't have a chance to answer the question.

She slipped into his quarters, the soft fabric of her nightgown falling on her frame. Through the white fabric, he could see her highly trained muscles and all the signs of her womanhood. He tried to subdue the thoughts that immediately formed.

She was at the edge of his bed then, sinking softly into the mattress. She took his hand and placed it on her exposed thigh. He felt the skin pucker underneath his fingers and a rush ran through his own body as she reached out to him in a more intimate, mystical way.

"Give into your feelings," she whispered, her lips grazing his neck. "No one will ever know, Anakin."

Each kiss dissolved another piece of his resolve and the padawan did exactly as he was instructed.