Sex, Lies & Politics

"Can I ask you something?" Luke adjured, as Padme pulled his blanket over him, tucking him into bed.

"Sure." She kissed his forehead.

"Did he. . .did he want us?" Luke's eyes rose, holding his mother's gaze.

She sat back on the bed, unfolding the corners of his blanket.

"...He was scared." She admitted with a sigh. "-really scared about becoming a dad."

She chuckled as she remembered the look on Anakin's face when she told him she was pregnant. "But. . .he wanted you guys so much. He couldn't wait to have a family."

In some ways it was easier to talk about Anakin and Vader like they were two different people to her children. It was too hard to look at the life they built and the life they crushed and accept that they are the reason they are where they are. Sometimes it felt more like Anakin was possessed by Vader.

It's like you're screaming, and no one can hear
You almost feel ashamed, that someone could be that important
That without them, you feel like nothing
No one will ever understand how much it hurts
You feel hopeless, like nothing can save you
And when it's over and it's gone
You almost wish you could have all that bad stuff back
So that you could have the good

Trying to love a man with such anxiety is like trying to save a man from drowning. He can hold onto you, and you can hold onto him but there's a chance that in the wave of panic, he will strangle you, taking you down with him.

But when he's calm, you're floating, and in those subtle, serene moments, loving him feels like coming up for air.

Padme closed the door of her apartment behind them. She turned to Anakin who was looking at her the way he always looked at her – like he knew the impulses he arouses in her.

"Finally alone." He grinned. "So..." He casually leaned back against the wall, anticipating the exact moment where they will drop the decorum they have had to display all day around others – albeit not as well as they think. It was illogical to think you wouldn't be reactive to your lover's presence in one way or another. There is always a look in your eye when you are overcome with a rush of emotions – especially emotions you try to hide. There is anxiety, excitement, fear, and lust when you approach your secret spouse in public – and even that hesitation becomes obvious to others.

"So..." She repeated, breathlessly, as his steadfast gaze penetrated her. That look demanded too much from her. That shining smile and spark in his eyes washed over her and she didn't want to wait anymore. They have held it in long enough, seduced by the delaying of desire when surrounded by the world. And it was these little moments that made all the lies and secrets worth it. Now they can escape together, and she couldn't wait to feel the rough surface of his hands on her.

In one fell swoop, they crashed into each other.

His mouth devours hers, refusing to come up for air. She melts with his tongue in her mouth – she can't see or think about anything else – she couldn't even tell you the colours of her own walls in this moment. His hands begin roaming her body, setting off a fire within her. She can feel every rough stroke of his finger, as his hands graze down her thighs. It felt like he had many hands and each cradled every delicate part of her as she fell back into his palms because the fall was just as exciting as the landing – when her body succumbs to his powerful caresses. The ruffled skirt of her indigo gown feels so good against his fingers as he scrunches it up in his fist, lifting it to expose her delectable thighs as the hem of her dress rests on her bare bottom.

She almost collapses as his hands bring a heat to her hips once he grips onto them. She is surrounded by his scent, and is invigorated by the way his lips brush against hers, breathing into her mouth with every urgent kiss, shooting shock waves through her veins.

Her hands run through his hair, pushing any loose dark blonde strands away from his eyes so she could bask in that piercing blue gaze.

Every breath, every touch, every kiss became a torture when their bodies pressed up against each other, teasingly, yet to become one. With a feral urge, he undresses her, and she, him.

Suddenly he picks her up carries her to bed as she throws the last components of his Jedi robes on the floor. Their clothes leave a trail.

Finally, he slumps his body over hers as he lays her down on the bed. They are anxious with fervor, knowing that their united heartbeats and sexual pulses were about to create the most synchronized passion.

Anakin groans as his aching appendage finally rests inside her. He pounds into her, like he's trying to release all his pent up anger that accumulated throughout the day with each shove of his hips as they align with hers – missing her mouth with each thrust as he tries to engulf himself in amorous kisses. It gets hard to slow down when he so savagely wants the sensation of passion to intoxicate him, take him away from the rest of the world, and let it fade as he and Padme now only see each other.

He welds himself to her the minute he's inside her. Trying to clear his head of the fear that so deeply and so persistently haunts him – that he'll be left alone. Something would take her away – their secret coming out, men like Clovis, or death like in his nightmares. These incessant thoughts never go away until his manhood is immersed in the heart of her femininity, physically owning her – feeling in control.

The feel and sounds of him swimming inside her makes him weak with pleasure. He gazes down at her open mouth, hypnotized by her soft moans that let him know she's satisfied. He wants to focus on her and only her. He can feel her nails softly drag down his back, he can feel her squirming under him. He does not want his anxieties to take him out of this moment.

But it is those anxieties that sharpen his senses. He feels pain deeply, whether real or imaginary – pain he would love to suppress – to numb himself from. But if he did, he'd also rob himself of his ability to feel the most uninhibited ecstasy with her. His anxieties, when channeled in the heat of the moment, sharpen the impulses of desire, resulting in him getting lost in the deluge of euphoria.

When his palpitating erection is submerged in her warm fluid, he feels safe and complete. He finds his strength. His strength to rise, to go out into the harshness of life, go to war, and take on the world. He ravages her harder like his life depended on it because in so many ways it did. He made love to her for survival, to drown out the voice in his head. The dark voice that reiterates his anger every time he feels helpless or like he's spiraling out of control.

He felt like two people. One who could simply savor the moment, devour his wife, obliterate himself in the orgasm, and enjoy the peace that comes after the buildup, from being validated by her – her belief in him, her desire for him. The other watches, criticizes, distracts him from the moment, making him feel desperately lonely, desperate for freedom, desperate for love, desperate for independence. It was confusing – he couldn't have it all. He couldn't claim her in public, he couldn't be free from the Jedi's shackles without giving up his power, and he couldn't keep his power without losing her – and he wasn't going to give her up.

He can't escape the prison he built himself in his mind. He created it. He manages to find something pure about himself and then torments it until it turns him into a state of hypervigilance. He wants to ravish his wife in peace but somehow as he deeply plunges into her, possessing as much of her as he could, it becomes an obsession. An obsession to feel in charge – to grab onto something while the outside world, and his mind, keep spinning uncontrollably.

He wanted to lead his own life. And in between the sheets with her, he gets to lead, to feel that powerful. She allows him to take control of her body. And she is happy to relinquish all control to him in the bedroom. She hated the burden of power at work when she was a queen and now as a senator – which was probably what made her a great leader. She had no desire to exert power over others. So, it felt good to give all of herself to him and let him overpower her. It was a deeper way of exploring their passion for one another. To lay down all your vulnerability on the bed with no filter, risk the exposure of your darkness and imperfections and allow another soul to replenish you – you find a deeper meaning of yourselves and your love for each other, and you are revitalized by a love that consumes you whole... for better or worse. They bear their soul before the other – not realizing how profoundly they have attached themselves to one another, and thus, creating an open wound if one leaves.

If only they could learn to embrace the passion without the drama.

For him, making love to her is how he regains his strength that the world out there depends on, how he frees himself from his own mental prison. For her, being made love to by him is when she feels complete. She screams his name as he devastates her with the most excruciating pleasure, she is dominated by the erotic explosions as he sends electricity traversing through her body.

He is driven to madness, wildness, and animalistic whims as he watches the shape her mouth takes as she sings out his name over and over again.

The urgent pulsations moments before her orgasm is when she feels most alive, most taken care of, and most loved. When his quivering member forces its way in her womb, filling her up, their love becomes satisfying life-changing poetry full of enormous potency. She is protected by his hands grabbing her tightly, one squeezing her butt cheek, the other cradles her head, preventing her from hitting the headboard. She is protected by the full weight of his body almost crushing hers. His hair damp, his sweat drops onto her, her flesh stained in his, bathing in each other's odours, flavour, texture – combining their dreams, promises, satiating an instinctive longing.

She is driven to a state of overwhelming excitement, insanity, surrender, feeling the orgasm seep out of every pore. The aching intensity envelopes her from her head to her toes. Her body violently shudders, tightening around his swelling shaft. She can no longer hear her own lecherous moans. It is replaced by silence, and all that rings in her ears is the throbbing, aphrodisiac elements that cause a stir within. These were the vibrations of freedom, lust, escapism, and love while it is pure and true. They got lost in each other and, in that, they found themselves in each other, finally becoming one.

It makes her feel empty when he pulls out, and the fireworks evaporate once his body moves away and lets cold air pass between them. And he doesn't leave on purpose – the Jedi call him, the Chancellor calls him, everyone pulls him away. And he gets mad that he has to leave, that he has to see the look on her face. Like, there's one more person you can't make happy.

Yellow diamonds in the light
And we're standing side by side
As your shadow crosses mine
What it takes to come alive

Anakin rolled off of Padme, taking a moment to catch his breath now lying on his back. He shot her an ardent gaze, soothed by the series of inhalations they whispered as he listens to her heartbeat settle.

It's the most peaceful moment after the eruption of passion, and it was cut short by his comlink.

"It's the Chancellor." He grunted out.

And just like that, Padme went from the highest high to the lowest low.

"Shocking." Her unamused derision rubbed him the wrong way.

But he kept his voice low to avoid tempers flaring. "Don't start."

"Fine, I won't." She did her best to speak softly. They only had a couple of days to be alone, she didn't want them to go to waste.

Anakin reached for her, pulling her back towards him to plant a light kiss on her lips.

But as much as she tried to let it go, she was riddled with agitation; Palpatine had caused controversy among the senators – and she hated that just the sound of his name set her off.

"Did you know he's been making amendments to the constitution?" Anakin's parted lips that were just about to be satiated were now hanging out to dry as she moved hers away.

He tried to hide his irritation as she prevented the kiss.

"Can we not talk about this now?" He sighed, meaning the words more seriously than they sounded.

"Yeah, okay. You're right." She forced a smile. "It'll all be fine once we get him to sign the petition."

And suddenly she could feel Anakin grow quiet.

"What?" She observed him, knowing he was once again shutting her out of whatever was going on in that head of his.

"Nothing." He mumbled.

She sat upright. No matter how good he thought he was, she knew when he was lying.

"You knew, didn't you?" She folded her arms against her chest.

His silence confirmed it.

"You knew." She whispered to herself, shaking her head, coming to the realization.

"Okay, don't make a big deal out of this." He held up his hand in protest. But it was too late. She was up and out of bed, wrapping her light blue robe around herself, prancing around the room.

"Oh no, it's not a big deal at all." She mocked him. "You only just stood idly by while the Chancellor destroys centuries of democracy."

"Padme." He spoke as calmly as he could, feeling a buildup in his chest – trying to manage his short fuse, boiling it down to her pregnancy hormones. "Don't jump to conclusions. We all want the same thing here. . .to end the war as quickly and as peacefully as possible."

Padme bit her lip in vexation, trying her hardest to evaluate her words before she went off – finally deciding to just get right to the point.

"Then ask him to let diplomacy resume." She said sternly.

"Padme, I can't do that!" He gave off a hopeless shrug, almost chuckling at her request. "Look. . .if I get involved I'd be doing so as your husband. It's. . .not professional."

She scoffed, struggling now to keep her cool. "Because you're always so professional." Her eyes narrowed into slits. "Like when you almost killed Clovis on our living room floor?"

And she knew she hit a nerve but right now she didn't care.

"Oh," He mimicked her mocking tone, meeting her with burgeoning derision as he got up, putting one leg into his black trousers. "You want to talk about professionalism, okay..." He strutted over to her. "What kind of married senator gets all dressed up and invites her ex boyfriend into our living room for a supposed business meeting."

Padme huffed, realizing it's always going to be an eye for an eye.

"I apologized for that." She warned stiffly.

"Well, so did I." His fierce gaze wouldn't let up.

She rubbed her eyes. Her fingers were then splayed across her forehead, massaging her temples, as she took a deep breath. "Okay, you know what – let's just. . .put a pin in this." She began to head towards him with a calmer approach.

"Anakin," She uttered breathlessly, "All I'm asking is that you talk to the Chancellor? You're the closest to him."

He was still quite rough around the edges and she could feel the tension as he exhaled. But she reached for him anyway, hoping a gentle touch would have him meet her halfway.

"I'm sorry." He finally drawled. His avoidant eyes now finding her. "But no."

He began to walk away and a quizzical Padme followed him urgently.

"Why not?" She implored as she chased him through the kitchen.

And he finally snapped. "Because I don't agree with you!" He blurted out.

He turned to her, her face taut with disbelief – he was now wishing he had kept his mouth shut.

"I just think..." He tried to carefully craft his sentence. "relying on votes and negotiation is going to drag it out. People want to feel secure. The just want the war to be over. This is an easy way to do that. Then we can figure out the semantics."

She closed her eyes for a moment, not really knowing what to think.

"I don't know what's worse..." The words lazily rolled out of her, like any effort would be rendered futile. "The fact that my own husband will gladly stand by while the Chancellor throws away my life's work, or that he'd abandon his integrity to win a war."

Anakin tensed up, annoyed by the accusation. He was restless, fighting the instinct to sharpen his words.

He managed to settle for a disappointed shrug, as he groaned out. "Alright – you wanna wreck our night alone together? You go ahead and wreck it."

He walked off, slamming the bedroom door shut behind him – leaving a dejected Padme to lean on the countertop.

Padme was just about to turn off Luke's night light when her scarf fell from around her neck.

Her son's eyes followed her, quickly propping himself up on his elbows. "What's that?"

"What?" She asked as he pointed at her.

She realized he caught the marks on her neck. She couldn't cover herself up fast enough.

"Is that–" Luke's squinted eyes started to take a wider shape. "Did he...? Did he do this to you?!"

Shine a light through an open door
Love and life, I will divide
Turn away 'cause I need you more
Feel the heartbeat in my mind

It's the way I'm feeling, I just can't deny
But I've gotta let it go

We found love in a hopeless place

We found Love - Rihanna