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padmeonpaper2009-05-02 09:56 pm
padme_kenobi) wrote in padmeonpaper2009-05-02 09:56 pm
Entry tags:
Fic: "To Ignite the Stars" (Star Wars, Obi-Wan/Padmé, 11/?)
Title: Interludes
Author:padme_kenobi
Previous Chapters: Can be read here.
Characters/Pairings: Obi-Wan, Padmé, mentions of Anakin
Word Count: 6,105
Rating: NC-17 just to be safe, for sexual scenes
Summary: They kissed again, one final, long kiss that said everything both felt they could not express in words, and then, before Padmé could tell him to stop or turn back, he pushed through the door … and was gone.
Author's Notes: I feel like I should be standing here with a megaphone booming, "THIS IS IT! THE ONE YOU'VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR!" But I won't, 'cause I'm not that much into self-promotion. XD This is indeed it, though, the spicy chapter I've been looking forward to writing ever since I began this crazy fic. And damn did I have fun writing it. It clocks in at over 6,000 words, the longest chapter to date. The problem was, even though I wanted to leap right into the sex, Obi-Wan and Padmé had to talk for awhile first. Seems to be a pattern with them - they can't just leap into bed and go like bunnies, they've got to talk about it first. *eyeroll* My grateful thanks tonoobianrose for planting the idea in my head of Obi-Wan and Padmé getting it on after Geonosis; I think it works very well and so have decided to "borrow" the idea for this chapter. Thanks hun! Not much else to say except I do hope you all enjoy it, and that it lives up to your expectations. As for the ending ... well, you'll see. :D
Padmé awoke slowly.
Her head was pounding. Her muscles were screaming. Her back was prickling. Her joints, her skin, even her hair hurt. She remembered the time that Ryoo had fallen down a grassy slope and ended up covered in cuts and bruises. Her niece had come up with the memorable line: “Mama, I have a headache in my whole body.”
Yes, Padmé thought, that’s how I feel.
At least her bed was soft. She cracked open her eyes and looked around. The room was large, if a bit plain, and had all the necessities. A bed with fluffy pillows and warm blankets, a sitting room with armchairs and an end table, a fully-equipped refresher, large windows that looked out into space beyond, plenty of lighting. Padmé was somewhat surprised at the luxury of the room, but she supposed that hospital ships must be decorated to make their occupants feel comfortable while they were recovering.
She sighed as she remembered the final stages of the battle. A clone trooper had come to make sure she was all right, and she had declined treatment for her injuries in favour of getting to Dooku’s hangar as quickly as possible and making sure Obi-Wan and Anakin were all right. They were not. Both were severely hurt, and if Master Yoda had not arrived when he did, they would have been killed.
Padmé couldn’t recollect much else of what had gone on in the hangar. She knew she had run to her friends to examine them and then felt the world spinning around her; seconds later she collapsed. She woke in a hospital bed and was told she was being treated for severe lacerations, several sprains and exhaustion. The medical technicians gave her a sedative to take and released her as soon as they were satisfied that the lesions on her back were closed. She was then assigned a room, where she had taken the medicine and collapsed onto her bed.
She didn’t know how long she’d slept. All she wanted was to get out of her dirty clothes and to soothe some of her aches and pains with a nice, hot shower.
The water felt soothing and oddly refreshing against her skin. Padmé stood, letting the spray cascade down her back, while she mulled over recent events. She had survived the arena. So what did this mean for her life? Did it mean things would change? Anakin’s words came back to her again, as clearly as if he’d just said them. What if by some crazy, amazing coincidence we actually manage to survive … You could still live your life, but live it the way you want to instead of how you’re supposed to.
Could she?
Could she, really?
She had survived, as had Obi-Wan and Anakin. Would there be a war now? Would the rescue mission have an impact on where things stood in the Senate? Where had the clone army come from? What was the role of the Jedi Order in all this? Did Obi-Wan love her?
In the past Padmé would have chastised herself for asking the last question, but that now seemed pointless. I can’t keep this inside. Anakin was right. My life is going to have to change.
Padmé rinsed herself and shut off the spray, climbing out of the shower. Her clothes, the suitcases she had so carefully packed to journey to Naboo with Anakin, were all back at the Varykino resort. She found herself wishing she’d packed at least a nightgown, and in the very next instant nearly laughed out loud. Why would she have brought a nightgown to Tatooine? To Geonosis?
She had a sudden image of herself fighting battle droids and droidekas in a long flowy nightdress and couldn’t suppress a snicker.
There was a dressing gown in the closet. Not pretty or feminine like she was accustomed to, but it was the right size, at least, and warm. Padmé slipped it on and fastened the soft belt around her middle. She had a feeling that the medical technicians would want her to take the rest of her sedative and go back to sleep, and really, she couldn’t think of anything she wanted to do more.
The door chimed.
Padmé lowered the pill she had been just about to put in her mouth and set her glass of water on the bedside table. Who’s there? If it’s Anakin, I think I’ll be blunt and say I was just about to go to bed. Really, there’s a limit.
She crossed the room and peered through the lens to see who was ringing. Obi-Wan stood patiently on the other side.
Padmé nearly collapsed in shock. She pinched herself hard on the leg. It hurt a lot, which seemed to rule out the possibility that she was having a very bizarre dream. Padmé slid open the door.
The two faced each other for all of ten seconds, then were wrapped in one another’s arms.
“Obi-Wan, what are you doing here?” Padmé cried into his tunic. “You’re hurt, you should be in the medical centre!”
He was rubbing her back and making soothing noises. “Nothing a little bacta didn’t cure. They released me about an hour ago. Padmé, I – I had to see you. Had to talk to you.”
She blinked and looked up at him. “What? What are you saying?”
“I read your letter,” Obi-Wan began.
“Really? Oh, you didn’t have to, I was just –”
Her courage was failing her. She had meant to confess, but couldn’t.
“I read your letter,” he said again, “and it made me realize … it made me realize that there are some things I should have said to you a very long time ago.”
Padmé held her breath.
“I love you,” Obi-Wan said simply.
She had imagined this moment so many times over the last few years. Imagined what she would say, and where they would be, and whether she should kiss him or just leap into his arms. But now that the moment had arrived, she could barely wrap her mind around the concept that the man she had loved for so many years returned her feelings.
“You – you do?” Padmé stammered.
“I didn’t know until you stopped writing to me two years ago.” He stroked her cheek softly. “I felt awful, for months on end. And then one day I was meditating and I realized that I was grieving the loss of our friendship and … and the loss of love.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered miserably. “I never wanted to stop. I knew it would cause you pain but – you were a Jedi, and my parents wanted me to settle down and marry someone supposedly sensible, and the Code doesn’t allow Jedi to love –”
“That’s right,” Obi-Wan said heavily. “It doesn’t. Attachment is a path to the dark side.”
“So where does that leave us?” Padmé asked. “Attachment leads to the dark side, but we love each other. What are we supposed to do now?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted.
Padmé blinked. “You – you don’t know?” she choked out.
“Of course I don’t know!” Obi-Wan said a little irritably. “I don’t have the answers to everything, Padmé. I wish I did! But – but I’m not allowed to be in a relationship. You know that as well as I do.”
“Then why admit it in the first place?” she demanded, pulling out of his arms. “Why come here and say, ‘Padmé, I love you, but we can’t be together! See you later!’ Why, Obi-Wan? It would have been better if we just kept everything inside.”
“You know you don’t believe that –” Obi-Wan began, but Padmé cut him off.
“I honestly don’t know what to believe anymore! It’s not like I expected my letter to change anything, but I at least wanted you to focus on more than the Code! You come in here and you tell me that you love me, but then you start parroting the Jedi Code. I’m a person, not a feeling that can be just – meditated away!” Padmé’s chest was heaving with emotion.
“Padmé, I can’t help it!” said Obi-Wan desperately. “Being a Jedi is part of who I am. Just like being a Senator is part of who you are. You told me in your letter that you would never ask me to give up the Jedi Order for you, but from where I’m sitting it seems as though that’s exactly what you’re asking!”
“Well, here’s a thought: don’t tell someone you love them and in the very next breath start reciting regulations about that love not being allowed,” Padmé practically snarled.
Obi-Wan snorted. “Hark who’s talking! As if you don’t quote regulations every single day, as part of your job!”
“That’s beside the point and you know it!”
“No, that is the point!” Obi-Wan was breathing heavily and seemed dangerously close to becoming angry. “You act as though I can look very objectively at the part of me that’s a Jedi, that I can remove it and turn it over and examine it. But I can’t. Think about how difficult it would be for you to cut off your leg or your arm. You couldn’t do it, because it’s a part of you! It’s the same with my Jedi training. I’ve been raised to be a Jedi ever since I was a four-month-old infant. The Jedi are the only family I’ve ever known. Imagine yourself abandoning all your family and mentors have taught you. You couldn’t do it! And neither can I.”
Padmé slumped down onto the bed, head in her hands. “Then why are you even here?” she asked in a hollow, dead voice. “Why did you even come here if you’re just going to disappoint me? I didn’t expect you to give up your Jedi training for me, but I’d be lying if I said that some small part of me didn’t hope that we could be together. I love you, Obi-Wan. I’ve waited so long. Now, I thought we finally had our moment. But I guess not. I guess I’ll have to go back to being celibate, to fend off my parents’ attempts to set me up with eligible Naboo bachelors. I can’t – I can’t do this, Obi-Wan. I can’t build up all my hope and be constantly let down like this.”
She began to sob quietly.
Obi-Wan bit his lip and made to sit down next to her. “Padmé, you know it’s impossible.”
Padmé scowled and turned her back. “Please leave.”
“Padmé, no, we can’t end like this, I don’t want us to stop being friends on this note,” he pleaded.
“Do I have to call security on you? Because I can and I will.”
“I won’t let you do that,” Obi-Wan said softly. “You know as well as I do that I can overpower whatever forces arrive inside of a minute. I’m staying here until we work this out, one way or the other.”
Padmé was silent for a few moments, then heaved an enormous sigh as though he had just asked her to clean the entire space cruiser from top to bottom. “Promise me you’ll leave after we – how did you put it – work things out?”
“If you still wish me to leave after we’ve spoken to one another in a civil manner, then of course I will do so.”
It cost him nearly everything he had to say it, but he knew it was what she needed to hear.
For several more minutes, she didn’t speak. Then, “All right,” Padmé said finally.
She turned slowly, looking him directly in the eye. Obi-Wan remained silent, giving her some time to gather her thoughts. At last she said, “Obi-Wan, I know you can’t separate being a Jedi from who you are. I understand that. I wouldn’t have written it in my letter if I didn’t. But what you said just now hurt me. It’s like … sometimes the Jedi don’t understand what it’s like just to be a civilian. We don’t follow the Jedi Code. We don’t fall in love and automatically think, ‘Well, I’d best suppress this because it could lead to the Dark Side.’ I don’t know what it’s like on every planet in the galaxy, but on Naboo we’re raised to treat the family unit with the utmost respect. Every Nubian is expected to marry once they are of age, have children and settle down. I can no more reject those values than you can reject your Jedi teachings.”
Gently Obi-Wan clasped her hand. “I didn’t say you had to.”
“Neither did I,” Padmé said pointedly.
There was a long pause.
“Padmé … I’m sorry,” whispered Obi-Wan. He was looking at his feet and suddenly could not remember ever being more embarrassed.
“I’m sorry too,” she said softly. “I shouldn’t have shouted at you.”
“No, I shouldn’t have started quoting the Jedi Code.”
“And I shouldn’t have tried to kick you out.”
“And I shouldn’t have … well … erm …” Obi-Wan tried desperately to come up with something else he shouldn’t have done. He glanced up at Padmé and saw that she was struggling to hold back her giggles.
That was it for him. He let out a snort of laughter, doubling over with mirth. The whole argument now seemed so silly – why had he started quoting the Jedi Code, anyway? How could he have implied that her family’s traditions didn’t matter? Why did he expect her to automatically see matters from his point of view, even though she hadn’t been raised as a Jedi and could not possibly have a complete picture of what it was like?
The last thought sobered him quickly.
“I really am sorry,” Obi-Wan repeated, squeezing Padmé’s hand. “What I said was wrong. I didn’t mean to be so insensitive.”
She squeezed back. “I know you didn’t. People argue, it’s just the way of the galaxy. And sometimes – sometimes a certain amount of conflict is healthy. I imagine we’re both feeling a bit guilty.”
Obi-Wan blinked. “Guilty?”
“Yes. You carry a lot of guilt around with you; I can tell,” said Padmé. “But now … you’re feeling guilty because you got captured. Because when the execution began, you couldn’t protect me. Because of all the Jedi who died today. And me, well, I’ve got nothing on my conscience except starting this whole war in the first place!”
“Padmé, no,” Obi-Wan said immediately. “The war isn’t your fault. It would have happened anyway whether you and Anakin had come to rescue me or not. As a galaxy we’ve been heading towards this point for years. I suppose now the time has simply come. Events were such that it would have exploded into a war at one time or another. Whether in a week, a month or a year’s time, we would be at war anyway.”
“That’s not very comforting,” Padmé admitted. “You make it sound like all my efforts in the Senate were in vain.”
Obi-Wan blushed. “No, no, no, that’s not what I meant at all!” he said quickly. “Destiny influences all of our futures to a degree, but it certainly doesn’t mean they’re predetermined. There are dozens, perhaps hundreds, of possible paths available to us at any given moment. The future is as much influenced by our choices as it is by the Force, or destiny, or whatever you personally choose to believe in.”
She nodded, mollified. “That’s essentially what I told Anakin.”
“You were talking to Anakin about destiny?”
“Well, yes. Sort of. He – we were reminiscing about the past, when we first met, and he was reminding me that he once asked me to marry him.”
“He what?” Obi-Wan blurted.
“Yes.” Padmé chuckled. “Of course, he was nine years old at the time, and I fourteen, so I didn’t set much store by it at all. You know how children are sometimes. Anyway, during our journey we spoke about that, and he asked me if I still believed that would happen.”
“And what did you say?” Obi-Wan was leaning forwards almost nervously.
“Well of course I told him it was ridiculous!” (Obi-Wan relaxed visibly at these words.) “Not in those exact words, obviously – I was a lot more polite – but that was the gist of it,” Padmé continued. “I told him that there must be lots of possible futures, and the one in which he saw us getting married was just one of them. It might or might not happen. And obviously it can’t, because I’m not in love with him and because he’s a Jedi. Marriage is out of the question, as you so succinctly put it a few moments ago.” She winked.
“Very funny,” Obi-Wan muttered. “I suppose you won’t hesitate to remind me of that in future.”
Padmé grinned. “No, actually, I won’t.”
He rolled his eyes. “You’re mean, do you know that?”
“Me? Mean?” Padmé batted her eyelashes innocently. “I’m an angel. Ask anyone.”
“And yet, you’re enjoying this!”
“In a word, yes,” she smirked.
“You are impossible!”
He swatted her across the arm, and she retaliated by pushing him gently down onto the bed. They were soon having a full-blown tickle fight, both laughing so hard they could barely breathe.
“Truce! Truce!” Padmé gasped, unable to stand it any longer. “I’m mean! I admit it!”
“Aha! A confession!” Obi-Wan exclaimed. “I knew you had a weakness!”
“Maybe my weakness is being reunited with my best friend,” she said softly.
“Maybe mine is as well.”
Obi-Wan could not help noticing that her face was inches from his. This was the first time they had been so close in so long. He could feel every inch of her – her breasts pushing into his chest, her legs, so very nearly entwined with his, her arms, pinned at her sides by his tickle attack … and the soft coils of her brown hair, her lips full and red.
He was leaning down … her chocolate-brown eyes were coming closer and closer … and suddenly he could feel her lips on his. She was responding, the kiss became more passionate, and there was nothing but that touch, barely an inch of skin that somehow meant so much.
It was nothing like he had imagined. It was better.
Padmé broke the kiss first, her eyes full of a mixture of concern and excitement. “Obi-Wan … what’s the point?” she whispered.
He was breathing heavily, already aroused by the passion between them. “The point?”
“Of this. If we can’t be in love … if the Code forbids it … why are we doing this?”
Obi-Wan shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. It just – happened.”
“You allowed it to happen.” It was a statement, not a question.
She spoke the truth, though he didn’t want to admit it. “I … I guess I did. I suppose …” Obi-Wan paused, searching his own feelings anxiously. “I suppose I just want to be normal.”
“Normal?” Padmé gave him a quizzical look.
“Yes, normal.” His voice became louder, more animated, as the words came to him. “I’ve never been allowed to have a relationship. I’ve thought about it many times, fantasized even. And after what you said earlier about Naboo’s traditions, I realized that I’m envious. Envious of the fact that you have the option of marrying and having children. I never wanted that until … until I saw you again on Coruscant.” Obi-Wan could feel himself blushing, and suddenly he was doing something he had never done before. Pleading. “Padmé, I know what I said before, I know I quoted the Code and said we could never be together, I know all that, but – please, just one night … before we get to Coruscant … no regrets, you’ll owe me nothing, I just … I just want to be normal. For one night.”
“Obi-Wan …” She sighed deeply. “Are you sure? You might – well, find it harder to let me go, if we spend the night together.”
Obi-Wan couldn’t help it. He kissed her again, though quickly, and rolled over to lie beside her. “Well, what about you? Won’t you find it harder as well?”
“If I let you stay, it will be because I love you,” Padmé replied. “And if, after tonight, we decide we should only be friends, I’ll let you go because I love you. I’ve spent the past two years not writing to you, not speaking, cutting off all contact. I think I can survive. I’m just worried about you. I want to do what’s best for you.”
“Padmé, I’m a Jedi.” Obi-Wan shrugged. “Meditating away dangerous thoughts and feelings – anger, hatred, sorrow, love – it’s what I do. And I’ve been doing it for thirty-odd years so I’d like to think I’m rather good at it. You, on the other hand … well, you said it yourself, you’re a civilian, you’re not used to letting go of your emotions like that. I don’t want to do this if you won’t be comfortable with it.”
Padmé’s hand snaked between them and clasped his. “Sometimes being in love with someone means doing something crazy once in awhile.” She leaned towards him, whispering so that her next words tickled his ear. “I think this is one of those times.”
Obi-Wan had to consciously remember to breathe. His senses were full of her – her face, once again just inches from his, the smell of the shampoo she must recently have used, the feel of her breath and the touch of her skin on his hand. He had pulled her down into another long kiss before he could even think about it.
This one was less sudden, more passionate, slower. Obi-Wan’s arms found Padmé’s shoulders and began inching her dressing gown down over her shoulders. They seemed to have reached a point of no return: they would be intimate that night, whatever the consequences for their future lives.
Padmé rolled onto her back as the gown fell away, with Obi-Wan now on top of her. “You – you’re not wearing any, er …” He blushed lightly.
“Underpants?” Padmé supplied. “I wasn’t …” Kiss. “… wasn’t expecting you to visit, if that’s what you mean.” Kiss. “I mean, do you wear underpants to bed?”
“Well, sometimes, but usually – wait a moment, when did this become a discussion about my underpants?”
Padmé giggled, and Obi-Wan realized he’d rarely heard so much happiness in one little laugh. “You brought it up!”
“I did n – oh, forget it.” He was laughing too.
“Not fair, I’m more naked than you are,” was her response, and he felt his belt being loosened and then falling away completely. A small gasp escaped his lips as her hand brushed his crotch, and he abruptly remembered his ministrations to himself as he’d read her last letter. This time she was here, with him … and he could explore all of her, completely.
As quickly as he could Obi-Wan rolled off her again and removed the rest of his clothing. Then, the moment they had both been waiting for, for so long … their bodies touched, skin to skin, stripped of any further professional barriers. He was Obi-Wan and she was Padmé and they could be here with each other now, an event that had been two years in the making.
Padmé drew in a sharp breath as she felt Obi-Wan moving down her neck, kissing her breasts and pausing to swirl his tongue around each of her nipples. How many nights had she lain in bed alone, bringing herself to climax with these same movements and pretending Obi-Wan was with her? How did he seem to know what areas would bring her the most pleasurable sensations – that touching that spot on her abdomen would make her wet inside, that licking her breast aroused her instantly?
“You’re thinking of them,” Obi-Wan whispered, moving down past her belly button.
“What?” panted Padmé.
“Your erogenous zones. You’re thinking of them. I’m simply reading them in the Force like you would a holobook.”
“Oh – oh.” It was her turn to blush. “Well then I guess you have an unfair advantage, don’t you, Master Jedi?”
The corners of his mouth lifted and he chuckled. “I guess I do.”
He had reached the shock of dark hair at her crotch, and further need for speech was obviated by the sensations coursing through her. She moaned incoherently, arching her back to meet his gentle kisses. Sensations rolled over her in waves, and she felt her climax building … building, but not yet a reality.
“You are … amazingly … beautiful,” Obi-Wan whispered against her entrance.
She gasped again as he slid his index finger into her, using his thumb to rub her clit in a circle. Padmé pressed against his hand, sliding up and down, no longer able to speak. She focused her gaze on his eyes, wanting to stare into those deep blue depths as she came.
With a final, loud gasp, the wave broke, exploding pinwheels behind her eyes in a burst of razor-sharp awareness of self. She was one with her body as the orgasm washed over her, and it was wonderful. “Obi-Wan …” she whispered, surprised at how soft her voice had become, how it dripped with passion.
Padmé collapsed back onto the bed, a contented smile upon her face. “Thank … thank you. That was … amazing.”
He grinned, looking as aroused as she’d felt. “You don’t need to thank me. Just seeing you … seeing you like that was incredible.”
She noticed a damp spot on the sheets and realized he had worked simultaneously to bring himself to climax even as he was stimulating her.
“I could have done that,” Padmé said, although she didn’t feel at all confident about her ability to pleasure him as he had just done for her.
“I couldn’t wait,” Obi-Wan said simply, and in that moment he reminded her irresistibly of Anakin. They shared so many traits as Master and Padawan, so many traits of which they were not even aware …
And he was ready again, positioning himself over her, but so was she. The heat of their bodies mingling together was enough to set her off again; she could feel his stiffening cock against her thighs as they leaned into one another for a breathtaking series of kisses. Padmé broke contact only when her need for oxygen overwhelmed her need for him. She stroked his face, trying to get her breath back, feeling his beard tickling her fingers.
“This,” Padmé said softly, taking several deep breaths to prepare herself, “will be my first time. I’ve never been with anyone else. So I – I’m a little nervous.”
“I’ll be very careful and very gentle,” Obi-Wan promised as he leaned down to kiss her again. “If it hurts too much or if you’d like to stop, just tell me.”
“I love you,” she said, and she fervently meant it.
They began once more, at first with soft kisses and then, as both became more aroused, rubbing against each other and trailing hands down chests and backs and breasts. Obi-Wan ached with need, his cock wet with pre-cum, but he had promised her he would take it slowly, and so he did.
Then the moment came.
Obi-Wan nibbled and kissed at a spot on Padmé’s neck he knew to be particularly sensitive, all the while sliding his length into her, inch by inch. She gasped, face clenching momentarily, and he stopped in sudden fear.
“It’s okay,” she whispered. “Really. It just – it just hurts a little the first time, that’s all. Every woman experiences this, it’s like … it’s like my gift to you, Obi-Wan. The last gift I can give you.”
The pain lessened slightly and she was able to look upon the event with a small amount of pleasure, raising her hips slightly to meet his thrusts. Seeing her relax, Obi-Wan sped up, kissing down her neck and moving towards her breasts. She stroked his hair, unable to focus on anything but him, suddenly delighting in the sensations coursing through her. This was … this was better than when he had pleasured her before, they were part of each other in a way that they had never been.
“You are so beautiful,” whispered Obi-Wan.
He could not believe that his imaginings of years past were coming true. How many times had he lain in bed at night, grasping his cock while visualizing it engulfed in Padmé’s warmth? And now the moment had arrived, and though he had not bargained on being so scared of hurting her, all the feelings he had envisioned were present. His length, sliding in and out … her gasps and moans of pleasure … arousal so heightened that he needed to exercise a great deal of self-control to keep from arriving right then.
Padmé gasped again, pulling him down to her chest, stroking his hair. “Obi-Wan … faster …” she panted.
He obliged, almost relaxing in her arms, focusing entirely on the sound of her breath and her voice murmuring over and over. “Not going to last,” he told her, trying to sound apologetic.
But she barely heard him, because she could feel her own climax approaching and then without warning it burst, burst over her body and lifted her up, and she was back on top of the galaxy. Here, with her Obi-Wan, able to forget about pain and war and Geonosis and Anakin …
Obi-Wan came moments later, spasming as he poured warmth inside her. She held onto him like an anchor, a lifeline.
“Thank you,” were the only words she could squeeze out.
“No, thank you.” His eyes were closed, and Padmé knew he was trying to capture every aspect of the moment for memory. “You … you helped me be normal. I can’t tell you how much … how much that means.”
She bit her lip as the knowledge that this moment was finite, that there could not be many more like it, broke over her. “If only we were different,” she mused. “If only we had different jobs, different lives …”
“But then we wouldn’t be who we are.” He pulled out as gently as he had gone in.
Padmé smiled up at him, unwilling to relinquish her grasp just yet. “Please don’t go,” she whispered. Her eyes had filled with tears.
Obi-Wan’s stomach clenched, even as the pleasant afterglow of his orgasm continued to wash over him. He hated knowing that he would have to leave her, whether in five minutes or in five hours, hated knowing that they could not do this again, that he would soon be going off to war.
“I have to,” he replied.
“Not yet,” Padmé begged. “You said you wanted to be normal for one night. So be normal. Sleep with me. Don’t just … use me like this. If we make love once and then you leave, you might as well have gone to one of those pleasure clubs.”
Her tone held no malice, but he felt guilty nonetheless. Wasn’t the very idea of the pleasure clubs repugnant to him? Hadn’t he noted in his personal record how short-sighted it was of the Jedi Code to permit usage of the clubs and yet forbid romantic love?
And hadn’t he just finished saying that he wanted to be normal, to have an experience like those of so many other beings throughout the galaxy?
Briefly Obi-Wan thought of Anakin, of the other members of the Jedi Council aboard the troop ship, of what his absence might mean. He weighed those factors against Padmé’s dignity, against his personal beliefs, and found that there was no contest at all.
“I’ll stay for as long as possible,” he said softly.
Padmé’s smile was radiant as she pulled him down for another kiss. “I love you,” she murmured against his lips.
“I know,” he said softly.
They were soon aroused again, and Padmé gazed up at Obi-Wan with fire smoldering in her eyes. “Please … I want you inside me,” she whispered.
Ordinarily she would have been embarrassed to be heard asking for it, asking for him to make love to her, but somehow it could not have seemed more appropriate at the moment. She felt so comfortable with Obi-Wan. It was a feeling she could neither understand nor articulate, but it had always been so.
He obliged, running his hands over her shoulders and trailing down to her breasts, massaging her nipples to elicit gasps from Padmé. She moaned then and lifted her hips from the bed, feeling his length slide once more inside her.
And once more they moved as one, Obi-Wan kissing her almost fiercely, yet gently, and Padmé wrapping her arms around his shoulders and neck, stroking his hair, both barely able to breathe.
Their climaxes came simultaneously, exploding with white-hot light as each moaned the other’s name.
Obi-Wan did not count the number of times they made love that night. He did not need to. A number could not have expressed the fact that this was simultaneously the most wonderful and the most horrible night of his life. Wonderful because he could finally spend it with Padmé, but terrible because it would be the last. The one consolation he could draw from the experience was that on the long nights away from Coruscant, he would have this night to remember and cherish.
It wouldn’t be enough, but it would be something.
He gazed downwards, watching Padmé’s eyes flutter and slowly close as she fell asleep using his chest as a pillow. Stroked her hair softly.
No, it would not be nearly enough.
***
“Well,” Padmé began.
“Well,” echoed Obi-Wan.
It was the next morning. Both had tried to put off the inevitable farewell, but Obi-Wan’s comlink had sounded shortly after they woke up with a request for him to appear before the Jedi Council. Padmé had agreed that it would most likely be difficult for them to see one another in any capacity other than that of friendship during the rest of the trip, so this had to be goodbye.
“I guess, um, I guess this is it.” She gazed down at her feet, voicing the obvious.
“Yes it is.” Obi-Wan lifted her chin to gaze into her eyes. “I just wanted to thank you again. For … for allowing me to spend the night, and for caring, and – well, quite frankly, for not kicking me out. Like you said you were going to.”
“What?” Padmé laughed. “When did I say that?”
“When I first came in. I believe your exact words were, ‘Do I have to call security on you?’”
She blushed. “I’m sorry, I – I wasn’t exactly thinking clearly.”
“Me either,” he admitted.
Padmé sighed. “Well, I guess we’d better … they’re waiting for you.”
Obi-Wan gathered up courage. “Right. Padmé, you – you mean more to me than anything, and I hate to do this. I wish there was another way.”
He kissed her softly.
She wrapped her arms around him, in a gentle hug. “I do too. And I love you. And … I will always remember this.”
They both sighed.
It was Padmé who broke away first. “All right, this is going to get depressing,” she chuckled. “Go. Go, and … I’ll see you later. I love you.”
Obi-Wan’s smile was gentle as he replied, “I know.”
They kissed again, one final, long kiss that said everything both felt they could not express in words, and then, before Padmé could tell him to stop or turn back, he pushed through the door … and was gone.
She threw herself back onto the bed and cried.
***
PERSONAL RECORD: PADME AMIDALA
No matter how much I try to pretend it didn’t happen, my encounter with Obi-Wan two months ago still weighs heavily on my mind.
I complete my daily tasks, arguing in the Senate for restraint against the heavy-handed measures the militarists long to put in place. I attend meetings of the Loyalist Committee. But in the back of my mind, in the place where I keep my darkest thoughts, there is always the memories and the desire to have his arms around me again.
I try to forget. But now I can’t.
Now, today, this morning, things have become so much more complicated.
What possessed me to contact the medical droid? Why did I agree to take the test?
The whys don’t matter now, I suppose. What matters is the truth of it. The truth I don’t want to type, because somehow that will make it more real.
The truth? The truth is simply this.
I’m pregnant.
Author:
padme_kenobiPrevious Chapters: Can be read here.
Characters/Pairings: Obi-Wan, Padmé, mentions of Anakin
Word Count: 6,105
Rating: NC-17 just to be safe, for sexual scenes
Summary: They kissed again, one final, long kiss that said everything both felt they could not express in words, and then, before Padmé could tell him to stop or turn back, he pushed through the door … and was gone.
Author's Notes: I feel like I should be standing here with a megaphone booming, "THIS IS IT! THE ONE YOU'VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR!" But I won't, 'cause I'm not that much into self-promotion. XD This is indeed it, though, the spicy chapter I've been looking forward to writing ever since I began this crazy fic. And damn did I have fun writing it. It clocks in at over 6,000 words, the longest chapter to date. The problem was, even though I wanted to leap right into the sex, Obi-Wan and Padmé had to talk for awhile first. Seems to be a pattern with them - they can't just leap into bed and go like bunnies, they've got to talk about it first. *eyeroll* My grateful thanks to
noobianrose for planting the idea in my head of Obi-Wan and Padmé getting it on after Geonosis; I think it works very well and so have decided to "borrow" the idea for this chapter. Thanks hun! Not much else to say except I do hope you all enjoy it, and that it lives up to your expectations. As for the ending ... well, you'll see. :DPadmé awoke slowly.
Her head was pounding. Her muscles were screaming. Her back was prickling. Her joints, her skin, even her hair hurt. She remembered the time that Ryoo had fallen down a grassy slope and ended up covered in cuts and bruises. Her niece had come up with the memorable line: “Mama, I have a headache in my whole body.”
Yes, Padmé thought, that’s how I feel.
At least her bed was soft. She cracked open her eyes and looked around. The room was large, if a bit plain, and had all the necessities. A bed with fluffy pillows and warm blankets, a sitting room with armchairs and an end table, a fully-equipped refresher, large windows that looked out into space beyond, plenty of lighting. Padmé was somewhat surprised at the luxury of the room, but she supposed that hospital ships must be decorated to make their occupants feel comfortable while they were recovering.
She sighed as she remembered the final stages of the battle. A clone trooper had come to make sure she was all right, and she had declined treatment for her injuries in favour of getting to Dooku’s hangar as quickly as possible and making sure Obi-Wan and Anakin were all right. They were not. Both were severely hurt, and if Master Yoda had not arrived when he did, they would have been killed.
Padmé couldn’t recollect much else of what had gone on in the hangar. She knew she had run to her friends to examine them and then felt the world spinning around her; seconds later she collapsed. She woke in a hospital bed and was told she was being treated for severe lacerations, several sprains and exhaustion. The medical technicians gave her a sedative to take and released her as soon as they were satisfied that the lesions on her back were closed. She was then assigned a room, where she had taken the medicine and collapsed onto her bed.
She didn’t know how long she’d slept. All she wanted was to get out of her dirty clothes and to soothe some of her aches and pains with a nice, hot shower.
The water felt soothing and oddly refreshing against her skin. Padmé stood, letting the spray cascade down her back, while she mulled over recent events. She had survived the arena. So what did this mean for her life? Did it mean things would change? Anakin’s words came back to her again, as clearly as if he’d just said them. What if by some crazy, amazing coincidence we actually manage to survive … You could still live your life, but live it the way you want to instead of how you’re supposed to.
Could she?
Could she, really?
She had survived, as had Obi-Wan and Anakin. Would there be a war now? Would the rescue mission have an impact on where things stood in the Senate? Where had the clone army come from? What was the role of the Jedi Order in all this? Did Obi-Wan love her?
In the past Padmé would have chastised herself for asking the last question, but that now seemed pointless. I can’t keep this inside. Anakin was right. My life is going to have to change.
Padmé rinsed herself and shut off the spray, climbing out of the shower. Her clothes, the suitcases she had so carefully packed to journey to Naboo with Anakin, were all back at the Varykino resort. She found herself wishing she’d packed at least a nightgown, and in the very next instant nearly laughed out loud. Why would she have brought a nightgown to Tatooine? To Geonosis?
She had a sudden image of herself fighting battle droids and droidekas in a long flowy nightdress and couldn’t suppress a snicker.
There was a dressing gown in the closet. Not pretty or feminine like she was accustomed to, but it was the right size, at least, and warm. Padmé slipped it on and fastened the soft belt around her middle. She had a feeling that the medical technicians would want her to take the rest of her sedative and go back to sleep, and really, she couldn’t think of anything she wanted to do more.
The door chimed.
Padmé lowered the pill she had been just about to put in her mouth and set her glass of water on the bedside table. Who’s there? If it’s Anakin, I think I’ll be blunt and say I was just about to go to bed. Really, there’s a limit.
She crossed the room and peered through the lens to see who was ringing. Obi-Wan stood patiently on the other side.
Padmé nearly collapsed in shock. She pinched herself hard on the leg. It hurt a lot, which seemed to rule out the possibility that she was having a very bizarre dream. Padmé slid open the door.
The two faced each other for all of ten seconds, then were wrapped in one another’s arms.
“Obi-Wan, what are you doing here?” Padmé cried into his tunic. “You’re hurt, you should be in the medical centre!”
He was rubbing her back and making soothing noises. “Nothing a little bacta didn’t cure. They released me about an hour ago. Padmé, I – I had to see you. Had to talk to you.”
She blinked and looked up at him. “What? What are you saying?”
“I read your letter,” Obi-Wan began.
“Really? Oh, you didn’t have to, I was just –”
Her courage was failing her. She had meant to confess, but couldn’t.
“I read your letter,” he said again, “and it made me realize … it made me realize that there are some things I should have said to you a very long time ago.”
Padmé held her breath.
“I love you,” Obi-Wan said simply.
She had imagined this moment so many times over the last few years. Imagined what she would say, and where they would be, and whether she should kiss him or just leap into his arms. But now that the moment had arrived, she could barely wrap her mind around the concept that the man she had loved for so many years returned her feelings.
“You – you do?” Padmé stammered.
“I didn’t know until you stopped writing to me two years ago.” He stroked her cheek softly. “I felt awful, for months on end. And then one day I was meditating and I realized that I was grieving the loss of our friendship and … and the loss of love.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered miserably. “I never wanted to stop. I knew it would cause you pain but – you were a Jedi, and my parents wanted me to settle down and marry someone supposedly sensible, and the Code doesn’t allow Jedi to love –”
“That’s right,” Obi-Wan said heavily. “It doesn’t. Attachment is a path to the dark side.”
“So where does that leave us?” Padmé asked. “Attachment leads to the dark side, but we love each other. What are we supposed to do now?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted.
Padmé blinked. “You – you don’t know?” she choked out.
“Of course I don’t know!” Obi-Wan said a little irritably. “I don’t have the answers to everything, Padmé. I wish I did! But – but I’m not allowed to be in a relationship. You know that as well as I do.”
“Then why admit it in the first place?” she demanded, pulling out of his arms. “Why come here and say, ‘Padmé, I love you, but we can’t be together! See you later!’ Why, Obi-Wan? It would have been better if we just kept everything inside.”
“You know you don’t believe that –” Obi-Wan began, but Padmé cut him off.
“I honestly don’t know what to believe anymore! It’s not like I expected my letter to change anything, but I at least wanted you to focus on more than the Code! You come in here and you tell me that you love me, but then you start parroting the Jedi Code. I’m a person, not a feeling that can be just – meditated away!” Padmé’s chest was heaving with emotion.
“Padmé, I can’t help it!” said Obi-Wan desperately. “Being a Jedi is part of who I am. Just like being a Senator is part of who you are. You told me in your letter that you would never ask me to give up the Jedi Order for you, but from where I’m sitting it seems as though that’s exactly what you’re asking!”
“Well, here’s a thought: don’t tell someone you love them and in the very next breath start reciting regulations about that love not being allowed,” Padmé practically snarled.
Obi-Wan snorted. “Hark who’s talking! As if you don’t quote regulations every single day, as part of your job!”
“That’s beside the point and you know it!”
“No, that is the point!” Obi-Wan was breathing heavily and seemed dangerously close to becoming angry. “You act as though I can look very objectively at the part of me that’s a Jedi, that I can remove it and turn it over and examine it. But I can’t. Think about how difficult it would be for you to cut off your leg or your arm. You couldn’t do it, because it’s a part of you! It’s the same with my Jedi training. I’ve been raised to be a Jedi ever since I was a four-month-old infant. The Jedi are the only family I’ve ever known. Imagine yourself abandoning all your family and mentors have taught you. You couldn’t do it! And neither can I.”
Padmé slumped down onto the bed, head in her hands. “Then why are you even here?” she asked in a hollow, dead voice. “Why did you even come here if you’re just going to disappoint me? I didn’t expect you to give up your Jedi training for me, but I’d be lying if I said that some small part of me didn’t hope that we could be together. I love you, Obi-Wan. I’ve waited so long. Now, I thought we finally had our moment. But I guess not. I guess I’ll have to go back to being celibate, to fend off my parents’ attempts to set me up with eligible Naboo bachelors. I can’t – I can’t do this, Obi-Wan. I can’t build up all my hope and be constantly let down like this.”
She began to sob quietly.
Obi-Wan bit his lip and made to sit down next to her. “Padmé, you know it’s impossible.”
Padmé scowled and turned her back. “Please leave.”
“Padmé, no, we can’t end like this, I don’t want us to stop being friends on this note,” he pleaded.
“Do I have to call security on you? Because I can and I will.”
“I won’t let you do that,” Obi-Wan said softly. “You know as well as I do that I can overpower whatever forces arrive inside of a minute. I’m staying here until we work this out, one way or the other.”
Padmé was silent for a few moments, then heaved an enormous sigh as though he had just asked her to clean the entire space cruiser from top to bottom. “Promise me you’ll leave after we – how did you put it – work things out?”
“If you still wish me to leave after we’ve spoken to one another in a civil manner, then of course I will do so.”
It cost him nearly everything he had to say it, but he knew it was what she needed to hear.
For several more minutes, she didn’t speak. Then, “All right,” Padmé said finally.
She turned slowly, looking him directly in the eye. Obi-Wan remained silent, giving her some time to gather her thoughts. At last she said, “Obi-Wan, I know you can’t separate being a Jedi from who you are. I understand that. I wouldn’t have written it in my letter if I didn’t. But what you said just now hurt me. It’s like … sometimes the Jedi don’t understand what it’s like just to be a civilian. We don’t follow the Jedi Code. We don’t fall in love and automatically think, ‘Well, I’d best suppress this because it could lead to the Dark Side.’ I don’t know what it’s like on every planet in the galaxy, but on Naboo we’re raised to treat the family unit with the utmost respect. Every Nubian is expected to marry once they are of age, have children and settle down. I can no more reject those values than you can reject your Jedi teachings.”
Gently Obi-Wan clasped her hand. “I didn’t say you had to.”
“Neither did I,” Padmé said pointedly.
There was a long pause.
“Padmé … I’m sorry,” whispered Obi-Wan. He was looking at his feet and suddenly could not remember ever being more embarrassed.
“I’m sorry too,” she said softly. “I shouldn’t have shouted at you.”
“No, I shouldn’t have started quoting the Jedi Code.”
“And I shouldn’t have tried to kick you out.”
“And I shouldn’t have … well … erm …” Obi-Wan tried desperately to come up with something else he shouldn’t have done. He glanced up at Padmé and saw that she was struggling to hold back her giggles.
That was it for him. He let out a snort of laughter, doubling over with mirth. The whole argument now seemed so silly – why had he started quoting the Jedi Code, anyway? How could he have implied that her family’s traditions didn’t matter? Why did he expect her to automatically see matters from his point of view, even though she hadn’t been raised as a Jedi and could not possibly have a complete picture of what it was like?
The last thought sobered him quickly.
“I really am sorry,” Obi-Wan repeated, squeezing Padmé’s hand. “What I said was wrong. I didn’t mean to be so insensitive.”
She squeezed back. “I know you didn’t. People argue, it’s just the way of the galaxy. And sometimes – sometimes a certain amount of conflict is healthy. I imagine we’re both feeling a bit guilty.”
Obi-Wan blinked. “Guilty?”
“Yes. You carry a lot of guilt around with you; I can tell,” said Padmé. “But now … you’re feeling guilty because you got captured. Because when the execution began, you couldn’t protect me. Because of all the Jedi who died today. And me, well, I’ve got nothing on my conscience except starting this whole war in the first place!”
“Padmé, no,” Obi-Wan said immediately. “The war isn’t your fault. It would have happened anyway whether you and Anakin had come to rescue me or not. As a galaxy we’ve been heading towards this point for years. I suppose now the time has simply come. Events were such that it would have exploded into a war at one time or another. Whether in a week, a month or a year’s time, we would be at war anyway.”
“That’s not very comforting,” Padmé admitted. “You make it sound like all my efforts in the Senate were in vain.”
Obi-Wan blushed. “No, no, no, that’s not what I meant at all!” he said quickly. “Destiny influences all of our futures to a degree, but it certainly doesn’t mean they’re predetermined. There are dozens, perhaps hundreds, of possible paths available to us at any given moment. The future is as much influenced by our choices as it is by the Force, or destiny, or whatever you personally choose to believe in.”
She nodded, mollified. “That’s essentially what I told Anakin.”
“You were talking to Anakin about destiny?”
“Well, yes. Sort of. He – we were reminiscing about the past, when we first met, and he was reminding me that he once asked me to marry him.”
“He what?” Obi-Wan blurted.
“Yes.” Padmé chuckled. “Of course, he was nine years old at the time, and I fourteen, so I didn’t set much store by it at all. You know how children are sometimes. Anyway, during our journey we spoke about that, and he asked me if I still believed that would happen.”
“And what did you say?” Obi-Wan was leaning forwards almost nervously.
“Well of course I told him it was ridiculous!” (Obi-Wan relaxed visibly at these words.) “Not in those exact words, obviously – I was a lot more polite – but that was the gist of it,” Padmé continued. “I told him that there must be lots of possible futures, and the one in which he saw us getting married was just one of them. It might or might not happen. And obviously it can’t, because I’m not in love with him and because he’s a Jedi. Marriage is out of the question, as you so succinctly put it a few moments ago.” She winked.
“Very funny,” Obi-Wan muttered. “I suppose you won’t hesitate to remind me of that in future.”
Padmé grinned. “No, actually, I won’t.”
He rolled his eyes. “You’re mean, do you know that?”
“Me? Mean?” Padmé batted her eyelashes innocently. “I’m an angel. Ask anyone.”
“And yet, you’re enjoying this!”
“In a word, yes,” she smirked.
“You are impossible!”
He swatted her across the arm, and she retaliated by pushing him gently down onto the bed. They were soon having a full-blown tickle fight, both laughing so hard they could barely breathe.
“Truce! Truce!” Padmé gasped, unable to stand it any longer. “I’m mean! I admit it!”
“Aha! A confession!” Obi-Wan exclaimed. “I knew you had a weakness!”
“Maybe my weakness is being reunited with my best friend,” she said softly.
“Maybe mine is as well.”
Obi-Wan could not help noticing that her face was inches from his. This was the first time they had been so close in so long. He could feel every inch of her – her breasts pushing into his chest, her legs, so very nearly entwined with his, her arms, pinned at her sides by his tickle attack … and the soft coils of her brown hair, her lips full and red.
He was leaning down … her chocolate-brown eyes were coming closer and closer … and suddenly he could feel her lips on his. She was responding, the kiss became more passionate, and there was nothing but that touch, barely an inch of skin that somehow meant so much.
It was nothing like he had imagined. It was better.
Padmé broke the kiss first, her eyes full of a mixture of concern and excitement. “Obi-Wan … what’s the point?” she whispered.
He was breathing heavily, already aroused by the passion between them. “The point?”
“Of this. If we can’t be in love … if the Code forbids it … why are we doing this?”
Obi-Wan shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. It just – happened.”
“You allowed it to happen.” It was a statement, not a question.
She spoke the truth, though he didn’t want to admit it. “I … I guess I did. I suppose …” Obi-Wan paused, searching his own feelings anxiously. “I suppose I just want to be normal.”
“Normal?” Padmé gave him a quizzical look.
“Yes, normal.” His voice became louder, more animated, as the words came to him. “I’ve never been allowed to have a relationship. I’ve thought about it many times, fantasized even. And after what you said earlier about Naboo’s traditions, I realized that I’m envious. Envious of the fact that you have the option of marrying and having children. I never wanted that until … until I saw you again on Coruscant.” Obi-Wan could feel himself blushing, and suddenly he was doing something he had never done before. Pleading. “Padmé, I know what I said before, I know I quoted the Code and said we could never be together, I know all that, but – please, just one night … before we get to Coruscant … no regrets, you’ll owe me nothing, I just … I just want to be normal. For one night.”
“Obi-Wan …” She sighed deeply. “Are you sure? You might – well, find it harder to let me go, if we spend the night together.”
Obi-Wan couldn’t help it. He kissed her again, though quickly, and rolled over to lie beside her. “Well, what about you? Won’t you find it harder as well?”
“If I let you stay, it will be because I love you,” Padmé replied. “And if, after tonight, we decide we should only be friends, I’ll let you go because I love you. I’ve spent the past two years not writing to you, not speaking, cutting off all contact. I think I can survive. I’m just worried about you. I want to do what’s best for you.”
“Padmé, I’m a Jedi.” Obi-Wan shrugged. “Meditating away dangerous thoughts and feelings – anger, hatred, sorrow, love – it’s what I do. And I’ve been doing it for thirty-odd years so I’d like to think I’m rather good at it. You, on the other hand … well, you said it yourself, you’re a civilian, you’re not used to letting go of your emotions like that. I don’t want to do this if you won’t be comfortable with it.”
Padmé’s hand snaked between them and clasped his. “Sometimes being in love with someone means doing something crazy once in awhile.” She leaned towards him, whispering so that her next words tickled his ear. “I think this is one of those times.”
Obi-Wan had to consciously remember to breathe. His senses were full of her – her face, once again just inches from his, the smell of the shampoo she must recently have used, the feel of her breath and the touch of her skin on his hand. He had pulled her down into another long kiss before he could even think about it.
This one was less sudden, more passionate, slower. Obi-Wan’s arms found Padmé’s shoulders and began inching her dressing gown down over her shoulders. They seemed to have reached a point of no return: they would be intimate that night, whatever the consequences for their future lives.
Padmé rolled onto her back as the gown fell away, with Obi-Wan now on top of her. “You – you’re not wearing any, er …” He blushed lightly.
“Underpants?” Padmé supplied. “I wasn’t …” Kiss. “… wasn’t expecting you to visit, if that’s what you mean.” Kiss. “I mean, do you wear underpants to bed?”
“Well, sometimes, but usually – wait a moment, when did this become a discussion about my underpants?”
Padmé giggled, and Obi-Wan realized he’d rarely heard so much happiness in one little laugh. “You brought it up!”
“I did n – oh, forget it.” He was laughing too.
“Not fair, I’m more naked than you are,” was her response, and he felt his belt being loosened and then falling away completely. A small gasp escaped his lips as her hand brushed his crotch, and he abruptly remembered his ministrations to himself as he’d read her last letter. This time she was here, with him … and he could explore all of her, completely.
As quickly as he could Obi-Wan rolled off her again and removed the rest of his clothing. Then, the moment they had both been waiting for, for so long … their bodies touched, skin to skin, stripped of any further professional barriers. He was Obi-Wan and she was Padmé and they could be here with each other now, an event that had been two years in the making.
Padmé drew in a sharp breath as she felt Obi-Wan moving down her neck, kissing her breasts and pausing to swirl his tongue around each of her nipples. How many nights had she lain in bed alone, bringing herself to climax with these same movements and pretending Obi-Wan was with her? How did he seem to know what areas would bring her the most pleasurable sensations – that touching that spot on her abdomen would make her wet inside, that licking her breast aroused her instantly?
“You’re thinking of them,” Obi-Wan whispered, moving down past her belly button.
“What?” panted Padmé.
“Your erogenous zones. You’re thinking of them. I’m simply reading them in the Force like you would a holobook.”
“Oh – oh.” It was her turn to blush. “Well then I guess you have an unfair advantage, don’t you, Master Jedi?”
The corners of his mouth lifted and he chuckled. “I guess I do.”
He had reached the shock of dark hair at her crotch, and further need for speech was obviated by the sensations coursing through her. She moaned incoherently, arching her back to meet his gentle kisses. Sensations rolled over her in waves, and she felt her climax building … building, but not yet a reality.
“You are … amazingly … beautiful,” Obi-Wan whispered against her entrance.
She gasped again as he slid his index finger into her, using his thumb to rub her clit in a circle. Padmé pressed against his hand, sliding up and down, no longer able to speak. She focused her gaze on his eyes, wanting to stare into those deep blue depths as she came.
With a final, loud gasp, the wave broke, exploding pinwheels behind her eyes in a burst of razor-sharp awareness of self. She was one with her body as the orgasm washed over her, and it was wonderful. “Obi-Wan …” she whispered, surprised at how soft her voice had become, how it dripped with passion.
Padmé collapsed back onto the bed, a contented smile upon her face. “Thank … thank you. That was … amazing.”
He grinned, looking as aroused as she’d felt. “You don’t need to thank me. Just seeing you … seeing you like that was incredible.”
She noticed a damp spot on the sheets and realized he had worked simultaneously to bring himself to climax even as he was stimulating her.
“I could have done that,” Padmé said, although she didn’t feel at all confident about her ability to pleasure him as he had just done for her.
“I couldn’t wait,” Obi-Wan said simply, and in that moment he reminded her irresistibly of Anakin. They shared so many traits as Master and Padawan, so many traits of which they were not even aware …
And he was ready again, positioning himself over her, but so was she. The heat of their bodies mingling together was enough to set her off again; she could feel his stiffening cock against her thighs as they leaned into one another for a breathtaking series of kisses. Padmé broke contact only when her need for oxygen overwhelmed her need for him. She stroked his face, trying to get her breath back, feeling his beard tickling her fingers.
“This,” Padmé said softly, taking several deep breaths to prepare herself, “will be my first time. I’ve never been with anyone else. So I – I’m a little nervous.”
“I’ll be very careful and very gentle,” Obi-Wan promised as he leaned down to kiss her again. “If it hurts too much or if you’d like to stop, just tell me.”
“I love you,” she said, and she fervently meant it.
They began once more, at first with soft kisses and then, as both became more aroused, rubbing against each other and trailing hands down chests and backs and breasts. Obi-Wan ached with need, his cock wet with pre-cum, but he had promised her he would take it slowly, and so he did.
Then the moment came.
Obi-Wan nibbled and kissed at a spot on Padmé’s neck he knew to be particularly sensitive, all the while sliding his length into her, inch by inch. She gasped, face clenching momentarily, and he stopped in sudden fear.
“It’s okay,” she whispered. “Really. It just – it just hurts a little the first time, that’s all. Every woman experiences this, it’s like … it’s like my gift to you, Obi-Wan. The last gift I can give you.”
The pain lessened slightly and she was able to look upon the event with a small amount of pleasure, raising her hips slightly to meet his thrusts. Seeing her relax, Obi-Wan sped up, kissing down her neck and moving towards her breasts. She stroked his hair, unable to focus on anything but him, suddenly delighting in the sensations coursing through her. This was … this was better than when he had pleasured her before, they were part of each other in a way that they had never been.
“You are so beautiful,” whispered Obi-Wan.
He could not believe that his imaginings of years past were coming true. How many times had he lain in bed at night, grasping his cock while visualizing it engulfed in Padmé’s warmth? And now the moment had arrived, and though he had not bargained on being so scared of hurting her, all the feelings he had envisioned were present. His length, sliding in and out … her gasps and moans of pleasure … arousal so heightened that he needed to exercise a great deal of self-control to keep from arriving right then.
Padmé gasped again, pulling him down to her chest, stroking his hair. “Obi-Wan … faster …” she panted.
He obliged, almost relaxing in her arms, focusing entirely on the sound of her breath and her voice murmuring over and over. “Not going to last,” he told her, trying to sound apologetic.
But she barely heard him, because she could feel her own climax approaching and then without warning it burst, burst over her body and lifted her up, and she was back on top of the galaxy. Here, with her Obi-Wan, able to forget about pain and war and Geonosis and Anakin …
Obi-Wan came moments later, spasming as he poured warmth inside her. She held onto him like an anchor, a lifeline.
“Thank you,” were the only words she could squeeze out.
“No, thank you.” His eyes were closed, and Padmé knew he was trying to capture every aspect of the moment for memory. “You … you helped me be normal. I can’t tell you how much … how much that means.”
She bit her lip as the knowledge that this moment was finite, that there could not be many more like it, broke over her. “If only we were different,” she mused. “If only we had different jobs, different lives …”
“But then we wouldn’t be who we are.” He pulled out as gently as he had gone in.
Padmé smiled up at him, unwilling to relinquish her grasp just yet. “Please don’t go,” she whispered. Her eyes had filled with tears.
Obi-Wan’s stomach clenched, even as the pleasant afterglow of his orgasm continued to wash over him. He hated knowing that he would have to leave her, whether in five minutes or in five hours, hated knowing that they could not do this again, that he would soon be going off to war.
“I have to,” he replied.
“Not yet,” Padmé begged. “You said you wanted to be normal for one night. So be normal. Sleep with me. Don’t just … use me like this. If we make love once and then you leave, you might as well have gone to one of those pleasure clubs.”
Her tone held no malice, but he felt guilty nonetheless. Wasn’t the very idea of the pleasure clubs repugnant to him? Hadn’t he noted in his personal record how short-sighted it was of the Jedi Code to permit usage of the clubs and yet forbid romantic love?
And hadn’t he just finished saying that he wanted to be normal, to have an experience like those of so many other beings throughout the galaxy?
Briefly Obi-Wan thought of Anakin, of the other members of the Jedi Council aboard the troop ship, of what his absence might mean. He weighed those factors against Padmé’s dignity, against his personal beliefs, and found that there was no contest at all.
“I’ll stay for as long as possible,” he said softly.
Padmé’s smile was radiant as she pulled him down for another kiss. “I love you,” she murmured against his lips.
“I know,” he said softly.
They were soon aroused again, and Padmé gazed up at Obi-Wan with fire smoldering in her eyes. “Please … I want you inside me,” she whispered.
Ordinarily she would have been embarrassed to be heard asking for it, asking for him to make love to her, but somehow it could not have seemed more appropriate at the moment. She felt so comfortable with Obi-Wan. It was a feeling she could neither understand nor articulate, but it had always been so.
He obliged, running his hands over her shoulders and trailing down to her breasts, massaging her nipples to elicit gasps from Padmé. She moaned then and lifted her hips from the bed, feeling his length slide once more inside her.
And once more they moved as one, Obi-Wan kissing her almost fiercely, yet gently, and Padmé wrapping her arms around his shoulders and neck, stroking his hair, both barely able to breathe.
Their climaxes came simultaneously, exploding with white-hot light as each moaned the other’s name.
Obi-Wan did not count the number of times they made love that night. He did not need to. A number could not have expressed the fact that this was simultaneously the most wonderful and the most horrible night of his life. Wonderful because he could finally spend it with Padmé, but terrible because it would be the last. The one consolation he could draw from the experience was that on the long nights away from Coruscant, he would have this night to remember and cherish.
It wouldn’t be enough, but it would be something.
He gazed downwards, watching Padmé’s eyes flutter and slowly close as she fell asleep using his chest as a pillow. Stroked her hair softly.
No, it would not be nearly enough.
***
“Well,” Padmé began.
“Well,” echoed Obi-Wan.
It was the next morning. Both had tried to put off the inevitable farewell, but Obi-Wan’s comlink had sounded shortly after they woke up with a request for him to appear before the Jedi Council. Padmé had agreed that it would most likely be difficult for them to see one another in any capacity other than that of friendship during the rest of the trip, so this had to be goodbye.
“I guess, um, I guess this is it.” She gazed down at her feet, voicing the obvious.
“Yes it is.” Obi-Wan lifted her chin to gaze into her eyes. “I just wanted to thank you again. For … for allowing me to spend the night, and for caring, and – well, quite frankly, for not kicking me out. Like you said you were going to.”
“What?” Padmé laughed. “When did I say that?”
“When I first came in. I believe your exact words were, ‘Do I have to call security on you?’”
She blushed. “I’m sorry, I – I wasn’t exactly thinking clearly.”
“Me either,” he admitted.
Padmé sighed. “Well, I guess we’d better … they’re waiting for you.”
Obi-Wan gathered up courage. “Right. Padmé, you – you mean more to me than anything, and I hate to do this. I wish there was another way.”
He kissed her softly.
She wrapped her arms around him, in a gentle hug. “I do too. And I love you. And … I will always remember this.”
They both sighed.
It was Padmé who broke away first. “All right, this is going to get depressing,” she chuckled. “Go. Go, and … I’ll see you later. I love you.”
Obi-Wan’s smile was gentle as he replied, “I know.”
They kissed again, one final, long kiss that said everything both felt they could not express in words, and then, before Padmé could tell him to stop or turn back, he pushed through the door … and was gone.
She threw herself back onto the bed and cried.
***
PERSONAL RECORD: PADME AMIDALA
No matter how much I try to pretend it didn’t happen, my encounter with Obi-Wan two months ago still weighs heavily on my mind.
I complete my daily tasks, arguing in the Senate for restraint against the heavy-handed measures the militarists long to put in place. I attend meetings of the Loyalist Committee. But in the back of my mind, in the place where I keep my darkest thoughts, there is always the memories and the desire to have his arms around me again.
I try to forget. But now I can’t.
Now, today, this morning, things have become so much more complicated.
What possessed me to contact the medical droid? Why did I agree to take the test?
The whys don’t matter now, I suppose. What matters is the truth of it. The truth I don’t want to type, because somehow that will make it more real.
The truth? The truth is simply this.
I’m pregnant.