A/N: Please be forewarned, this chapter contains strong, sexual content. Don't be reading it out in the open, please. As always, thank you all for reading and commenting. It is very appreciated.

Chapter Nine

"Marry me."

Anakin murmurs this profound appeal into the crook of my neck while we are pressed together beneath the steamy spray of my parents' spacious guest shower. His erection thumps insistently against my back as he palms my breasts in sensuous, soapy circles under the guise of "helping me wash up," though he doesn't seem overly concerned with getting me clean. He bites kisses along the column of my neck, his naked flesh radiates heat as he rolls his hips in tandem with my own. This probably isn't the most appropriate time for a marriage proposal but, at this precise moment, I'm not really interested in chiding him about it.

It's impossible to think rationally, not when one of his hands is already beginning its sudsy descent down my belly towards the dark, curling hair between my legs. When I feel his questing fingers penetrate me deeply, my breath escapes me in a whimpering moan of pleasure. "Should I take that moan as a 'yes' then?" he teases between long, leisurely strokes.

Predictably, we have been unable to keep our hands off each other since our picnic the other day. I have been enjoying a glorious time reacquainting myself with his body. Because we are both in full agreement that any discussion of children should be tabled for now, we've been careful to take steps to avoid pregnancy and…barring our rather messy encounter in the picnic glade the other day, we've been good about using a barrier method. But sometimes that option proves to be inconvenient, especially for moments like this one when I want nothing more than to feel Anakin thrusting inside of me.

"We…we should stop," I manage to gasp out as he increases his pace, "…Breakfast…waiting they…they'll come looking…" Even as I make my incoherent protest, I am on my toes, straining to give him more access and shamelessly riding his hand, racing toward that exquisite precipice…

"I dare anyone to step foot in this fresher right now."

Anakin adds a second finger, pushing so high and hard inside me that I cry out. He hits a particularly sensitive spot and the combination of his expert touch, and his hardness pressed against my backside is enough to push me over. I whine out his name as my orgasm suddenly crests, my hands curling against his hips when my knees threaten to buckle. When those last, stirring currents of sensation have ebbed away, I slump forward on the cool white marble in a bid to catch my breath.

I can feel Anakin bumping against me steadily, his short, staccato grunts echoing softly as he frenetically strokes himself to completion. I want to watch him as he does because it is quite possibly the most erotic thing I've ever seen, but I'm too spent to move. Seconds later, he moans my name and I feel his hot release splatter across my naked, wet skin before the remnants are rinsed away in the shower spray. He leans into me, his body boneless and relaxed in the aftermath as he nibbles lazy kisses across my shoulder.

"Marry me," he whispers again, sweetly insistent.

I slump back against him with a breathless laugh. "Haven't we already established this plan?"

"I'm not talking about some obscure day far-off into the future, Padmé. I mean right now. I don't want to wait anymore. I want you to marry me. Today."

Once it occurs to me that he's being genuine and not irreverently flippant as usual, I shift around in his arms and stare up at him incredulously. "Are you really proposing to me while we're in the fresher?"

He bites back a grin. "Yes."

"And you honestly want to get married today?"

"Also, yes."

"You've put a great deal of thought into this, I see," I tease him with deadpan humor.

But he is unsmiling, his expressive blue eyes darkened with tender gravity when he says softly, "You have no idea."

The practical side of me recognizes that this might be the best timing ever. Anakin and I still have numerous issues between us that we need to work through. We have yet to set a definitive course for our individual futures. And, most notably, Anakin and I have been an actual couple for less than a month. Is that enough time together before deciding to make a lifetime commitment, I wonder.

I think about Shmi's prudent advice to me only a couple of weeks earlier, literally just before we had embarked on this trip. She had urged me not to rush into things with Anakin, to give him time to grow into the individual he needed to be before he attempted to take on the role of husband. Her wise words made perfect sense at the time too. I know he needs time and so do I. Besides that, I've proven the effectiveness of Shmi's counsel to myself already.

Because I had listened to her, Anakin had opened himself up to me in a way he never had before. We're in a better place because of that too. Had it been an inordinately painful experience? Most assuredly. Did I learn things about him that I might have willingly turned a blind eye to? That was true as well. But that was exactly why we had need to have that conversation in the first place. And we might not have had it all and would have been content to keep shoving those unspoken things aside if we'd continued to let ourselves be caught up in the physical part of our relationship. Surely then, if Shmi Skywalker had been right about that, her advice on waiting to marry was probably sound as well.

And then there were my own parents, who I did not doubt would loudly protest any rushed nuptials. Nabooian traditions and sentiments aside, they were only just beginning to warm to Anakin (though my mother still ran hot and cold). Only now were they acclimating to the reality of him being in my life as a boyfriend. I'm not sure if they're ready to accept him as a son-in-law yet, though I'm sure they suspect that will one day become an eventuality. But there is time for that. As Shmi had said, Anakin and I are still young. We don't have to rush into anything.

All of that is true and wise and I know that we should probably exercise caution against making a rash decision. We should be prudent and patient and practical. But as I stare up at Anakin, his expression awash with love, devotion, and hopeful enthusiasm, I don't really consider any of those things. None of those very sensible reasons for waiting matter in the least because all I really want, above all else, is to be his wife. Consequently, my reply to his proposal is instinctive and given without even the slightest bit of hesitation.

"Yes."

The smile he gives me is like a streak of bright, blue sky in a gray wall of clouds after a violent thunderstorm. "Really? You mean it?"

"Yes," I say, my own smile growing, "Let's do it, Ani. Let's get married."

There is a great deal of Nabooian tradition that goes into planning a wedding ceremony. Typically, gatherings are large and filled with extended family from all corners of the galaxy. There is a three-day feast that preludes the event and a formal rite where the parents of the groom and bride publicly bestow their blessing on the union. Because Anakin and I are marrying in secret and rather quickly, we're unable to observe any of those customs. Part of me is saddened by that fact because I am a traditionalist at heart, but not overly so. Thankfully, I have never been a girl who spent an inordinate amount of time fantasizing about her perfect wedding. What is most important to me is that, by the end of today, I am Anakin Skywalker's wife.

Our clandestine service will be a small and intimate one then. From what Anakin has told me, our first wedding ceremony had been similarly private but with one notable difference this time around. My two most trusted handmaidens, Sabé and Dormé will serve as witnesses to our union right along with R2 and Threepio.

Dormé isn't at all surprised when I enlist her help for the ceremony. She's been an astute bystander to the swift evolution of my romantic relationship with Anakin from the very beginning. Sabé, on the other hand, is a bit shocked at the speedy progress of our relationship and, unlike Dormé, she attempts to warn me against acting recklessly. However, once she is certain Anakin isn't pressuring me and realizes that I have no intention of changing my mind, she generously lends her support despite her misgivings. She assists Dormé with preparing the lake house in Varykino for our special day and acquiring an officiant on our behalf.

By late afternoon, Anakin and I are standing before a local holy man from the capital, pledging our undying allegiance and devotion to one another for a lifetime with only the four guests we've invited looking on as witness. As I earnestly recite my vows, I recognize that this moment is likely one of the most profound that I've ever experienced. I am becoming a new person, adding yet another layer to my continually evolving identity.

I've transitioned from dutiful daughter to regal queen to fearless senator to devoted wife. Each new role has brought with it a unique set of responsibilities and expectations, but it is the last role that I hold most sacred. It's the one that counts the most, and I'm determined not to fail.

After we've sealed our union with a kiss, Dormé and Sabé graciously volunteer to take the droids back to the house and make believable excuses to my family regarding my and Anakin's continued absence. I don't have any intention of keeping my family in the dark indefinitely. There will be no secret marriage this time around. But this day belongs to me and Anakin. I will not have it marred by censure and reproach.

As I linger in the fresher now contemplating my reflection as I prepare to don the bridal nightgown that I packed for the occasion, I marvel curiously over why I suddenly feel so nervous. This is hardly a conventional wedding night, after all. I'm no trembling virgin any longer. That last bit of girlish innocence had been lost to Anakin weeks ago. And yet, the prospect of joining him in bed this time, even after we've been lovers all this time, feels like an utterly new experience. Perhaps because this time, I will be sharing that bed as his wife.

When I finally exit the fresher, I find Anakin already in bed waiting for me. He is shirtless and shoeless, his hands tucked behind his head in a thoughtful pose. Upon my entrance, however, he immediately straightens and grins at me. I can't help but feel like the most stunning creature in the universe when he looks at me like this.

"Hello, my wife."

I feel ridiculously giddy to hear him speak those words, and I'm sure my joy is evident as I close the distance between us. "Hello, my husband."

His smile becomes positively reverent as he takes hold of my hand and gently guides me down beside him on the bed. I settle down beside him and immediately seek out his kiss. "You are so beautiful, Padmé," he whispers against my lips, gliding his hand across the ivory satin of my nightgown, "Sometimes, I can hardly believe you're real. I love you so much."

"I love you too."

I turn into his body in ready anticipation of his eager caresses, but I'm surprised when he doesn't kiss me again. Nor does he seem particularly impatient to disrobe me either. Instead, he skims his fingers lightly over my face and shoulders and hips before beginning the languorous trek all over again as if he can't quite believe that I'm lying there beside him. He doesn't seem to be in any hurry to make love at all despite this being our wedding night. I can't help but grow a bit unnerved under his avid scrutiny, especially when he makes no move to escalate things further.

"What are you thinking?" I ask him softly.

"That I am the luckiest man in the entire galaxy."

I sputter out a self-conscious laugh. "I'd be careful with those bold pronouncements if I were you," I warn him with a smile, "For all you know, I could be a disaster as a wife."

"Not possible. I have that on very good authority."

I find myself frowning with the reminder. "Oh yes, I'd forgotten. You've done this before…with her. Technically, I'm your second wife."

My somewhat sour reply wrings a stunned laugh from him. "Have I mentioned to you how strange it is when you speak about yourself in the third person?"

"I'm not speaking about myself. I've told you before, Anakin…that other Padmé and I are not the same."

"But you are the same," he insists, "You shouldn't talk about that alternate version of you as if she's separate from you because you think you failed me somehow. You didn't fail me. Not ever. Please don't blame yourself for my fall. You're not to blame."

Despite the inherent happiness of the day, I find myself blinking back the sudden, regretful tears as I finally address the long-harbored insecurities that I've left unspoken until now. "You say that I am not to blame," I reply, my words suffocated with guilt, "but how did I miss the signs that you were in trouble? I think about that all the time, Ani…how could I have possibly been so blind…? And perhaps if I hadn't been then things would have been different and you wouldn't have—,"

He presses his fingers to my lips before I can finish that thought. "No," he says firmly, "That is my burden to bear alone. Not yours. I won't stand for that, Padmé."

"All those things you did, you did for me. And now you carry all of that with you…and it's my fault."

"It is not your fault."

"I don't know if that's true."

"I do. It is true. You weren't blind, Padmé. You saw who I was then just as you see who I am now. I won't lie to you and tell you we had a perfect marriage," he says, "We didn't. There were concerns that we probably should have addressed early on.

"But you and I spent so much time apart during the war that it was understandable that neither of us wanted to waste the precious time we did have together dwelling on things we could not change…or addressing matters that would inevitably divide us. I think we both wanted those good times to stay good. That's all."

"We should have run away together," I consider fervently, "We should have left everything behind when we still had the chance."

Anakin favors me with a sad, far-off smile, a look I've come to associate with the troubling memories from his altered past and the numerous regrets that torture him still. "You said something similar to me in that other timeline too," he says, "You were right then…and you're right now. But I promise you this, Padmé, I will never take what I have with you for granted again."

I frame his face in my hands and vow earnestly, "I won't take it for granted either. Promise me that we will never let that happen to us again, Anakin."

"I promise you…"

When he kisses me, the gentle insistence of his lips helps to wash away the lingering traces of sorrow and regret, gradually replacing those emotions with curling tendrils of desire instead. He lightly traces the ridge of my collarbone with the tips of his fingers before moving across my shoulder, his feathered touch dragging the fragile straps of my nightgown aside and exposing my breasts to his ardent stare. I close my eyes as he eases me back into the pillows and follows me down.

"Was it like this between us that first time too?" I ask breathlessly as he replaces his hand with his mouth, "…our wedding night? Were you sweet and slow like this?"

"Not really," he laughs against my skin.

"Oh…is it because we've done this before…?"

"That's part of it…"

"And…and the other part?" I stammer before he takes my nipple into his mouth. I arch into him in response and start to tunnel my hands through his hair to bring him closer just as he abruptly ceases his tender ministrations. My answering whimper of pure frustration rumbles between us.

"You're the one who keeps talking," he teases, "Do you want me to answer your question or not?

Because I'm curious and because I know we have all night, I incline my head in invitation. "Go ahead."

"I was very young when we married. Only nineteen. We had kissed just a handful of times," he recounts, "There was no period where we dated or got to know each other's family. We never had the opportunity to be an actual couple first. The Clone Wars had just begun, and I'd recently lost my arm in a duel with Dooku and—,"

"—Wait! You lost your arm?" I exclaim incredulously, "When did that happen? At the start of the war?"

He considers my reaction with a pensive frown. "Did I never mention that to you before?"

"No, Anakin, you did not. I would have remembered a severed arm!"

"Oh well, yes…I lost my right arm just below the elbow because I was being impulsive and stupid—,"

"—it seems some things never change—,"

"—And," he presses on, leveling me with a playfully quelling look, "afterwards, I felt very self-conscious about my body and my new prosthetic. I didn't have a very long adjustment time before you and I married so, that first time between us was somewhat…distressing for me."

I grimace at the phrasing. "Distressing? That sounds very grave."

"I had never been with anyone before, Padmé, and everything I knew about physical intimacy, I had to discover on my own because talking to Obi-Wan about what I felt for you hadn't been an option. That, coupled with the fact that I felt very out of place in my own body, made being with you that night challenging for me."

"You hated it, didn't you?"

The thought saddens me because, while my first time with him had been shocking and even a bit overwhelming, I would never use the words "distressing" and "challenging" to describe the experience. More like electrifying and intense… The fact that he might not have had the same indelible experience with me stings a little. Anakin is swift about soothing my bruised ego, however.

"No!" he replies emphatically, "No, I did not hate it. I could never hate being with you. You were perfect that night. I was the problem. It wasn't the experience that I envisioned for us."

"I don't suppose I was much help in that department being equally inexperienced," I consider dryly.

"Not really. Though I will say that what you did know was a great deal less…lurid than what I did."

"Do I even want to know what you mean by that?"

"No. You probably don't," he laughs, "and, in hindsight, my education wasn't entirely helpful either."

"And so…"

"And so, we had to figure it out together. The first time we made love was exactly what you could have expected from an insecure, 19-year-old boy and his virgin bride. It was embarrassing, painfully awkward and very quick."

I bite my lip to keep from laughing at both his vexed tone and expression. "Somehow I can't imagine you being awkward in bed at all."

He favors me with a grin that borders on self-complacent. "Should I take that to mean that I satisfy you quite well, milady?"

Groaning in consternation and eye rolling indignity because I've made it so obvious to him that he does, indeed, please me well, I smack him in the face with a pillow. But Anakin only laughs, amused by reaction and inordinately pleased with himself because of it. I glare at him for his lack of contrition and smack him again for good measure.

"Ugh, you are so unbelievably arrogant! One day, your body will no longer be able to support the weight of that massive head of yours and it will just topple right off your neck," I warn him direly, "It's only a matter of time."

"Can I help it if you find me sexy and irresistible?"

"Who says I find you 'sexy' or 'irresistible?'" I challenge dryly, "It seems to me you're making assumptions."

"Shall I make a case for it then?" he offers as he begins to inch my nightgown up over my hips, "It will only take me a minute…"

I bat his hand away. "Sometimes I really hate you, Anakin Skywalker." He laughs again, but this time when I growl at him, I am also laughing as well. We exchange several sweet kisses before we settle back into each other's arms once more. Smiling at him coyly, I trace invisible designs with my index finger across the expanse of his bare chest.

"So, you're saying that it hasn't always been like this between us?"

He smiles at me quizzically. "Like what?"

"So…" I mentally search for an appropriate descriptor for our lovemaking. Carnal. Primal. Sensual. Wanton. Eventually, I settle for, "Intense. Has it always this intense with us?"

Anakin shrugs. "Like I mentioned before, we spent much of the war apart," he says, "Whenever we reunited, we were always eager to be together."

I smile into his chest. "Oh…so, it seems that awkwardness didn't last long. We have always been like this."

"No," he whispers, his eyes become vividly blue as he speaks, "it's never been like this with us. I have never wanted you like this, Padmé." I'm mesmerized by the banked passion shimmering in his gaze, undone by the urgent way his hands move over my body, punctuating his every word. "I spent a great deal of time before I came here trying to undo what I had done to you, but part of me always feared that I would never hold you in my arms this way again. I would never touch you like this again.

"Every moment that I'm here with you…that we're together feels like an unexpected blessing. I don't want to hold anything back from you. And so, I don't. I give you everything."

A lump of emotion forms in my throat with his words. I try to mask the sudden, unbidden tears behind a teasing smile. "I think you have me at a disadvantage," I tell him, finding myself empathizing with that uncertain teenaged boy he had been in the previous timeline, "You clearly know my body much better than I know yours. I'm getting there, but I'm not on your level quite yet."

"You can catch up if you want," he invites in a sultry whisper, sweeping up my hand from his chest and guiding it down between us where he is already beginning to harden. "Take your time. Touch me however you like." His eyes darken as I begin to caress him through the sturdy material of his trousers. He moans aloud when I slowly flip back the buttons to the flap, exposing the tip of his erection to my avid touch. "You can do anything you want to me, Padmé."

I nibble my lip in consideration. "Anything I want?"

Anakin nods his assent, and I smile at him, feeling inspired by his invitation. With deliberate insistence, I ease him onto his back, carefully watching his reaction as I push his trousers down past his hips and free his erection fully. He groans his encouragement as I lower myself against him and begin kissing a purposeful, meandering path down the length of his body.