It was the first kiss that either of them had ever really had. Padmé's work in politics had begun at a very young age. And though there had been boys she liked, there was never enough time for her to discover the beauty that could lie in such a simple action as this one.

It was the same for Obi-Wan. For the whole of his life he had one commitment. Learning the Code and becoming a Jedi had absolutely nothing to do with kissing or girls. He, therefore, paid them no mind.

Obi-Wan took his lips from hers, ending their perfect moment. It wasn't as if she was surprised, simply disappointed. In fact, part of her would have been shocked had he not pulled away. With a sad smile her eyes fell to his chest; the last thing she wanted him to see were the tears that had begun to gather. Despite the pain, she would respect his decision.

Silently, he tilted her chin, forcing her eyes to meet his. Looking at her then, having just felt the magic of her kiss, he knew what he wanted. At such a moment with Padmé in his arms, nothing else mattered. Obi-Wan wanted her, and needed nothing else.

Obi-Wan leaned in, his lips perfectly poised to whisper in her ear. "Close your eyes Padmé," he purred. She obeyed immediately and felt him move behind her. They were maddeningly close. So near, with their bodies pressed together, the fire within burned ever brighter.

Though she couldn't see him, she could feel the heat of his body as his firm chest pressed against her back. Heartbeats quickened and breaths became shallow as the anticipation began to build.

Obi-Wan's sudden touch took her by surprise. Gently, he pushed the silken tendrils of hair aside. Then, he removed the studded choker from her neck, exposing the soft porcelain flesh of her neck and shoulders. His warm breath on her skin caused her to inhale sharply. She longed to feel his lips, the caress of his tongue . . . but it did not come.

He tormented her. His moist lips brushing against her delicate skin. Breathing slowly, nose nuzzling lightly, Obi-Wan traced the lines of her flesh. He was so close, yet so far, still unattainable. He paid equal attention to Padmé's back, shoulders, and neck; it was pure torture . . . and she loved every moment.

Through the Force, the Jedi could feel her growing desire. It was all he could do to keep composure, to remain in control of the situation and not lose himself in the moment. She was so warm, so real, her skin was so soft, and her scent made him crazy. That unique smell that he had always known, but only recently rediscovered: Noobian roses and waterfalls.

The Senator slowly faded, being replaced by the woman within. Her eyes still closed, Padmé was forced to feel, forced to experience. She was compelled to succumb to his sweet seduction. Strong, powerful hands, trained in combat, settled on feminine hips. They restricted her movement, pressing her even closer to him.

As warm lips finally met soft, searing flesh a moan escaped her mouth. Obi-Wan left a trail of hot, slow kisses up and down her neck. Reaching up to him, Padmé pulled his head even closer, longing for him to devour her with his roaming mouth. Her other hand pressed against his, holding him close.

But he was not content to remain in one place, though he loved the feel of her skin against his. His hands moved up, brushing her sides. He lingered at her waist and abdomen, coming to rest on the fabric that covered her breasts.

He massaged her slowly and deeply, careful not to cause too much pain. The sensation began to overwhelm her, heat radiating from within and the throbbing that had started in her core quickening. Padmé sighed and, before she could contain herself, moaned his name in pleasure.

Hearing his name from her swollen, wine-colored lips pleased him. Her touch, the slender fingers in his hair, electrified him. He continued to rub her, feeling her nipples harden under his hands. It excited him to know that his actions caused such passion within her.

She had almost lost consciousness, giving herself to sensation when, suddenly his kisses ceased. Padmé heaved a frustrated sigh. Moving his mouth to her ear he whispered, "M'Lady. You are usually dressed most suitably for every occasion." He nibbled her earlobe and continued, "At the moment, however, you seem to be somewhat overdressed . . . don't you think?"

He had moved, she no longer felt the pressure of his chest at her back. There was hesitation, neither sure of the next move to be made. Padmé was ready and just as she began to give voice to her concession, the elegant evening-gown she wore unhooked itself and slowly slid down her small frame.

Through the depth of their bond, Obi-Wan had sensed her readiness, her need. And with his gift, he had taken matters into his own hands . . . so to speak. Gentle Force-touches, like a warm breeze, helped her undergarments fall free of her body, just as it had her pink and burgundy gown.

As a last touch, her hair fell free of its tie, liberating the roses that had been contained with it also. Without a sound, silky petals of pink hit the floor at Padmé's feet.

She turned to face him and he breathed very deeply. As a Jedi Padawan, Obi-Wan had studied anatomy and physiology. He had seen the female form and had admired it in works of art. But this was different. Never before had he seen the form as a work of art in and of itself.

It was liberating, standing there before him. Because there was no way to hide under the clothes of her office, there was no reason to hide. She met his eyes with pride and confidence, watching with delight the range of emotions playing across his chiseled features.

Up till now, the Jedi had been in control; which is just where he preferred to be. But as she approached him with a singular grace and poise, he felt that control slip. The game had changed.

Their bodies were pressed together once again. Her full lips parted, ever so slightly, drawing his full attention to her mouth. Padmé's kiss was, at first, feather light. Suddenly, it became more urgent, her lips pressing against his with more intensity. Obi-Wan opened his to her and their tongues met.

They pulled each other deeper: him caressing her bare back, her hands tangled in his thick hair. There was an intense heat radiating next to her inner thigh and she felt him grow. Without thinking, relying on instinct, Padmé lifted her knee to meet him. The Jedi growled hungrily into her mouth as she began to press against his erection gently.

Breaking their kiss, her knee continued to massage him, turning his world upside-down. "I have accepted your suggestion regarding my formal attire Master Kenobi," she said breathlessly, "I would think you would do me the same courtesy."

Obi-Wan gave her a sexy, knowing smile that made her weak in the knees. Stepping back from her, he began to slowly shed the last symbol of his own station. Inner robes of light tan, leggings of the same color and brown boots fell to the floor. She watched him undress, reveling in the sight of his toned Jedi physique. Padmé drank in his image and, like any good drink, it made her feel light-headed and free.

With little interlude, they crashed into one another: their kisses intense, hands demanding, and souls open. The Lady clung to the neck of her Knight as if her very life depended on the contact. Suddenly, she was effortlessly lifted from the ground, his full erection sliding between her legs and brushing against her clit.

She moaned in pleasure and rocked her hips against him, trying to prolong the contact. But she could stand no more. "Enough," she breathed desperately, "No more games Obi-Wan."

Still holding her in his strong arms, he walked them both to his bed. Slowly, she was laid down, plush white satin bedding cradling her soft, feminine curves. Padmé's skin almost glowed as the moonlight came in through the window, reflecting on the tiny beads of sweat that had sprouted.

He was amazed by her. Not just by the body that lay open to him, but to the light and life that existed in her eyes. He realized that there had never been anything he wanted more than her, including the Jedi Order. Technically, as a Jedi, he was not supposed to want anything for himself. All was to be given to the service. And now, as he had given of himself for millions of faceless beings, Padmé was ready to give of herself, just for him.

She shuddered slightly as he looked down upon her. The intensity of his gaze was both frightening and insatiably erotic.

"Padmé," he sighed.

"Please, Obi-Wan."

She did not demand, nor did she beg. It was a confirmation, giving him the right to proceed.

He moved in between her legs, hovering for many moments. For a fleeting instant Padmé marveled at the strength and endurance it must have taken for him to achieve such a feat. But her thoughts were soon swept away by the feeling of his erection gently brushing against her clit once again.

It was like nothing she had ever known, every nerve on fire. So intense was the feeling that she could barely hear his voice. With concern, he said, "I don't know if you've ever been with a man before Padmé . . . but this may be slightly painful for a moment."

Then he kissed her, slowly and gently, mirroring his approach as he entered her. There was a sudden "pop" felt by them both and he quickly stopped his movement.

"I'm okay," she smiled at him, "really."

Their pace was slow at first, luxurious, each getting used to the rhythm and feel of their lovemaking. This most intimate of contacts made them both even more sensitive to the feelings of the other. The Force surrounded them and through it, each could sense the desires and love of the other.

He was the most considerate of lovers. Thanks to his Jedi powers, no part of her went untouched. Hands that could not be seen caressed her hot, eager flesh. His thrusts began to increase in speed, her hips meeting him with each one to pull him deeper. They let go completely, giving themselves to the moment. Nothing else mattered.

She kissed him hungrily, tears sliding down her cheeks; the frustration that had been building in the past six years finally finding release. It was like nothing she could have dreamed. And it wasn't just physical. In being with him, in being with Obi-Wan, she had discovered herself. She was more than just a Senator and no longer a child; she was a beautiful, vibrant woman.

And it was the same for him. The Jedi were placed in a high position by the non-Force users around them. They were more then mere men or women. For the whole of his life Obi-Wan had not realized that he was a man. But now he knew the truth. In being with Padmé, he learned that he was not just a Jedi Knight. In giving himself to her he was vulnerable; he became human.

Their climax came simultaneously, wave after wave of pleasure crashing over them.