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padmeonpaper2009-05-09 04:03 pm
padme_kenobi) wrote in padmeonpaper2009-05-09 04:03 pm
Entry tags:
Fic: "To Ignite the Stars" (Star Wars, Obi-Wan/Padmé, 48/?)
Title: Triggers
Author:padme_kenobi
Previous Chapters: Can be read here.
Characters/Pairings: Obi-Wan/Padmé, Mon Mothma (briefly)
Word Count: 4,618
Rating: NC-17 - yep, there's more smut, heh
Summary: “Oh, good, Lily gave you the message. I have some rather bad news.”
Author's Notes: So, here's the next chapter, as promised. :) Katie has convinced me to post this particular plot arc chapter-by-chapter even though that will mean some craaaazy cliffhangers, and I agreed mostly because at the rate that I'm writing right now, the entire arc might not be finished until roughly 2020. *headdesk* In any case, I hope to pick it up soon - just be aware that there might be a few days' gap between chapters as I try to bully my muse into giving me more than just dribs and drabs. Heh. And also, this is the chapter in which Obi-Wan and Padmé have an argument about bubble bath. Yes, bubble bath. *eyes her subconscious* I kind of scare myself sometimes. LOL.
“So, am I forgiven?” Padmé said quietly, her lips lifting in a small smile.
It took Obi-Wan a moment to remember what she was talking about, and he leaned down to nuzzle her. “After that? Of course, darling.”
“Ah, so what you’re saying is that you can be easily bought off.” She winked. “That could be useful knowledge.”
“I certainly can after seven months of being denied my wife.”
Padmé chuckled. “I think I’ve finally found out your secret, Master Kenobi.”
“Have you, Senator Kenobi?”
They both grinned, and she came forward to kiss him, their touches languid and slow. He would have been content to stay that way, to enjoy the gentle encounter, but Padmé was already deepening the kisses, her breath beginning to quicken. Sheathed as he still was inside her, Obi-Wan could feel that she was wet, and not just from the remnants of his climax. She wanted him again — quite reasonable given that she’d not yet had a chance to arrive at her own satisfaction.
“Take a bath with me,” Padmé whispered.
“A bath?” Obi-Wan blinked.
“Yes, like we did at Varykino that one time,” she persisted. “Remember, when I convinced you to take shore leave and we went to Naboo and I introduced you to my parents? And then we stayed in the Lake Country and —”
“Ah, yes, I do remember. Wasn’t that also when you conceived the twins?”
She giggled. “Maybe. I suppose it does work, with the timing. But I also think you need hardly be concerned about that particular possibility. Not anymore.”
“I know, I was only teasing,” Obi-Wan smiled.
“So …?” Padmé rocked him back into the wall again, gently but with clear intent. “Please? I told you I haven’t been able to fit into the shower very easily, so this would be the perfect opportunity.”
“Somehow I don’t think getting clean will turn out to be the primary objective of this endeavour,” Obi-Wan pointed out, though he couldn’t resist another smile. “Besides, is a full immersion in water —?”
“Yes, of course it’s safe.” She waved away his concern. “Dr. Ti-Lek said I can continue to take baths until my ninth month, and we’re well outside of that limit at the moment. And the tub is certainly big enough. And —”
“All right, all right.” It was his turn to interrupt. “I can see I haven’t got a leg to stand on in this particular debate, do I, Senator?”
“Quite right.” Padmé flashed him a winning smile and stepped carefully away, allowing him to slide slowly out of her. She had taken his hand and begun to lead him away before it occurred to Obi-Wan to ask another question.
“What about Luke and Leia?”
“Up, and dressed, and probably playing with Lily,” she answered. “I saw to that before I came back here.”
“Another part of your dastardly plan, I assume?”
She winked. “You might say that.”
In the fresher Padmé twisted the knobs to begin filling the tub, adding a small amount of scented bubble bath until white foam was piled up in a corner. Obi-Wan blinked and eyed it suspiciously, turning from where he had been gathering towels from the linen closet.
“What do we need those for?” He gestured to the bubbles.
“To help us relax,” Padmé explained. “At least, that’s what it’s supposed to do. ‘Creates a luscious cloud to nourish your pores and invigorate your senses for complete bodily replenishment,’” she read from the bubble bath’s bottle.
“How in the galaxy is a solution of water, sucrose and livening agent going to do all that?” Obi-Wan wanted to know.
She shrugged. “I’m not sure. But I always use it. At least I do on the rare occasions when I can actually take a bath.”
“I think you’re being conned,” he told her. “There are better ways to spend one’s credits.”
“So you’re saying you’ve never put anything in your bathwater?” Padmé arched an eyebrow.
“Not only that, I’m also not in the habit of using such exorbitant amounts of water for this purpose. It’s very wasteful. And a sonic shower will clean you much more effectively.”
“I thought we said this wasn’t about getting clean.” She chuckled.
“It isn’t, but …” Obi-Wan gave a helpless shrug. “I just can’t see the reasoning behind such a luxury. A useless luxury at that.”
“Oh, of course it’s probably useless, but since I didn’t buy it, I’m not going to worry about that,” Padmé grinned. “It was here when we arrived, and it may as well get used. Unless of course you’re afraid.”
“Why would I be afraid of a few bubbles?”
“I don’t know, you just had such a suspicious look on your face when you asked about them, that’s all.” She giggled. “Like they were going to leap out of the tub and bite you. They’ll do no such thing, I assure you.”
“Well, I know that,” he said crossly. “I just — oh, never mind.”
Padmé laughed again, but she was soon silenced as he crept behind her and pressed her gently into the wall, covering her momentary surprise with a series of kisses. She responded immediately, deepening the embrace and pulling him towards her, moaning softly into his mouth. With a wicked grin of his own, Obi-Wan slid off the light dress she’d put on for the walk down the hall and trailed his fingers down to her breasts, tracing slow circles around each nipple. Her hands were moving in the opposite direction, up, up to his cheeks, tangling in his hair.
“I … I want …” She gasped, biting her lip as he began to massage.
“Yes?” Obi-Wan was quite enjoying himself.
“Your mouth … please …”
“Of course, darling.” And with no more pretence than this he abruptly lowered his head, tongue darting out to follow the movements of his fingers, teasing her until her nipples were stiff under his touch and she was panting, gasping, her head thrown back against the wall.
“Obi-Wan, I — I … oh …” Padmé shuddered, the shaking passing through her body, her breath hitching as she trembled. Her grip tightened and then relaxed and she sighed, radiating satisfaction and contentment.
Obi-Wan blinked, eyeing her with surprise. “Did you just —?”
His wife had the look of a contented Puuri cat. “Mmm, yes. And it was wonderful. Thank you.”
That’s the fastest I’ve brought her to climax in seven years. Obi-Wan mentally congratulated himself. “You’re very welcome, though I barely did anything.”
“It’s easier when you’re pregnant,” she explained. “To become stimulated is … quite simple, sometimes simpler than I’d like. It can be hard to get away from that. And you feel it more deeply. Every sensation is magnified.”
“Is that why you’ve been stalking me?” He arched an eyebrow.
“I would hardly call it stalking,” Padmé replied, sounding almost offended at the notion. “I’ve just tried to — convince you. That’s all.”
“Your definition of convincing is not the same as mine,” Obi-Wan chuckled, shaking his head. Next moment he frowned, having been visited by a sudden and rather unwelcome flashback. He sighed.
She picked up on the change almost instantly. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, fine. Come on, we’d better shut off the water or the tub will overflow.”
Padmé twisted the knobs, but she did not stop gazing at him, even as he shed his own clothing and took her arm to help her climb into the bathtub. She lowered herself carefully and opened her arms, ready to receive him, and he slid her forward so that he could sit directly behind her.
“Are you sure nothing’s wrong?” Padmé asked as she reclined against him. “You looked — sort of far away there for a moment.”
“Remembering something,” Obi-Wan said uncomfortably. “From the rescue, the mission to rescue Palpatine from Grievous’ flagship. Stupid, given whom he turned out to be. We should have left him there to rot. But — but Anakin and I were needing to escape from those bodyguards Grievous used to have, and he cut a hole in the floor so that we dropped through into a tank full of spare fuel —”
“Fuel!” Padmé interrupted with a gasp. “You and Ani were swimming around in fuel? One spark could have killed you both!”
“Well, it was either that or be massacred by the guards, darling,” he pointed out. “In any case, Anakin remarked that we were safe now, I suppose meaning that we were out of the guards’ line of sight, and I told him that his definition of safe wasn’t similar to mine. That’s all.”
She was silent for a long moment, finally murmuring, “If all your rescues were like that, I think it’s better I don’t know the details.”
Privately, Obi-Wan was inclined to agree. “They weren’t; not really. But he did have a tendency to make them more interesting than they needed to be.”
“He certainly did.” Her hand trailed slowly through the water.
“Then again, matters usually became rather complicated when you were involved, as well,” Obi-Wan said mischievously, hoping to deflect the conversation.
It worked. “Whatever in the galaxy are you talking about?” Padmé demanded, whirling to face him and splashing around a fair amount of bathwater in the process.
“Just that after Geonosis, I was going to reprimand a certain apprentice of mine and both he and you insisted that rushing off to rescue me against Master Windu’s orders had been entirely your idea,” he told her.
“Yes, but you were going to die!” she objected. “And all because of your mission to seek out my assassin! I would never have forgiven myself if Ani and I had sat there on Tatooine and done nothing while you were in such danger! Besides, I thought I could bargain with Dooku for your life, that I could negotiate so it wouldn’t come to any bloodshed. I know it didn’t work, but …”
“Ever the politician,” Obi-Wan smiled. “When in doubt, negotiate.”
“Which could also have been your motto during the war,” Padmé pointed out. “Didn’t the HoloNet take to calling you the Negotiator?”
“Yes, but I wasn’t a politician. There’s a difference.”
“Oh, is there?” She arched an eyebrow. “So your attitude and beliefs about politicians haven’t changed despite the fact that you’re currently living in one’s home and you married one?”
“No, not really. You and Mon are simply exceptions to the rule,” Obi-Wan told her.
“And Bail?” asked Padmé pointedly.
“And Bail, too, of course.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re quite insufferable, do you know that?”
“You married me.” He turned her criticism deftly back on her with a wink.
“I suppose I did.” Padmé reached for his hand and brought it to her mouth, gently kissing each finger. “Well, I was in love with you. I am in love with you. That’s my own failing.”
Obi-Wan leaned forward, his lips just grazing her shoulder as he trailed soft kisses up the side of her neck. “Not a failing, darling. Not in any way a failing. My years with you have taught me that if nothing else.”
“Mmm,” she murmured, unable to conjure any other form of expression while he was doing such delicious things, spreading warm prickles under her skin, his calloused fingers massaging her nipples into stiff peaks. She slid back against him, seeking to increase the friction, and delighted in his sharp intake of breath as her buttocks brushed his groin.
“Padmé …” Obi-Wan’s voice was a breathy whisper, and she could feel him hardening.
“What?” Padmé gasped; he’d retaliated, his hand now seeking her clit at the apex of dark curls between her thighs. And oh — oh — there — he’d found it now, but before she could even gasp a request to continue, Obi-Wan slipped a finger inside her. She was wet from the water, wet from arousal, practically dizzy with the sensations coursing through her. Dizzy — yes — the room spun, and she ducked back against his chest, under his chin. “Please … more …”
In answer he captured her lips in a kiss, tender but sensuous, his breathing needy and desperate. Padmé wanted him more for it, and she pressed into his length again, intent clear. To her surprise he withdrew his finger, placing two hands on her shoulders to still her.
“Wait — just —” He swallowed audibly. “I can’t — I can’t hold on much longer, not with you doing that, and I want it longer … better … you with me …”
And she understood, because after seven years of loving him, of being with him like this, Padmé couldn’t imagine not being able to comprehend his feelings. Stroking her husband’s hand reassuringly, she slipped out of his grasp and turned, sliding him with her until they were facing one another with their legs locked. It took only a small motion forward, barely perceptible, until he filled her, and she gasped with sensation.
“Too much?” Obi-Wan panted.
“No … oh goddesses, no … just please, like that …”
Padmé realized she didn’t need anything more, none of the stimulation that they usually provided to one another. They both seemed on edge already, but this was about other things than simply reaching climax. Husband and wife needed each other, right in that moment, after so many months of connecting in ways that were not physical. Blame seemed to have long since been expunged from the deal, and she was not surprised at this — Obi-Wan was not one to hold grudges. Above all he loved her and wanted to be close to her, and he knew that in the end she had only orchestrated the approaches and retreats in order to bring some much-needed levity into a situation where precious little could be found. There was every indication that this paradise, their version of paradise, would soon be disrupted by the baby’s birth and then, the eventual move to Tatooine. They could try to put it off, but in the end, there was no getting away from simple fact. Much as they had done during the war, the only remedy was to snatch small moments of happiness and laughter, both with their children and with each other. And in this at least, they could call themselves experts in a skill honed through bald necessity.
Her orgasm rippled through her first, a litany of sensation that left her repeating his name over and over, once for each wave. Padmé was so lost in it that she barely noticed when Obi-Wan let go, or that he finally felt content enough to do so.
They embraced, satisfied.
***
She still smells of Naboo.
He smiled as that thought occurred to him, incongruous but truthful. When they had still lived at Varykino, Nubian roses had grown wild in the garden by the twins’ room, and Padmé was always bringing in bouquets to use as centerpieces for their table. She would also soak petals in water and rinse her hair with it, meaning that Obi-Wan was almost always surrounded by the scent. Sometimes if he felt particularly playful, he’d pluck a rose from its stem and creep up behind his wife as she worked in the kitchen, twining it deftly into her curls. Padmé adored these interludes and would act surprised nearly every time, though they both knew she wasn’t. And she would wear the rose for the rest of the day, sometimes even reaching up to feel its delicate petals.
Even now, with Nubian roses being far scarcer, Padmé occasionally requested that they be obtained for her, and Mon seemed only too happy to oblige. If he looked over to the counter he could see a bowl of petals soaking there, waiting for when she next rinsed her hair. Obi-Wan had often asked if they should use the water for Leia, too, but there was apparently some complex tradition surrounding the roses, and one of this tradition’s decrees was that a woman be at least thirteen years of age before her mother showed her how to do it. He didn’t pretend to understand why this was the case, and neither did Padmé, but she was adamant that they observe the tradition properly.
Obi-Wan ran a hand softly down her cheek, careful not to wake her. She had fallen asleep against him after several more sessions of lovemaking, and he suspected he had slept too, for a sensation of time having passed hung in the air. He would have been quite content to stay there forever, using the Force to twist the bathtub knobs and add more warm water when the tub got too cold, feeling her sigh slowly and wiggle closer to him. The last time she had done this, the swell of her pregnancy just touched the plasteel side of the tub, and he was quick to slide his hand in between her abdomen and the cool surface so that if the child kicked, no injuries would be sustained. The baby seemed restless in his wife’s womb, disturbed by something … or perhaps this was just a normal reaction to the kind of activities in which her parents had engaged previously. Obi-Wan would have to ask Padmé later.
He leaned his head back against the wall and allowed his eyes to drift shut. Perhaps now was the time to work in the meditation session that he had not completed earlier. The physical part of meditation was clearly out of the question, but the other aspects … those should be easy.
Swiftly Obi-Wan slipped beneath the current of the Force’s first layer, allowing himself to drift with it rather than trying to impose his own will and excise meaning. He would never have admitted it to anyone else, but he particularly enjoyed meditation when Padmé was nearby even though he no longer needed her to serve as his centre. Somehow he could see more clearly, and could discern a wider field of possibilities, when his wife was in the same room or otherwise in close proximity to him. It was why he generally tended to awaken before her and perform his meditations at dawn, when he could be sure that she slept behind him.
Foreboding.
He would have been knocked off his feet by the strength of the warning, had he been standing. The Force rippled and boiled with fear and emotion, a tempest stirred up before an advancing storm. Obi-Wan’s breath caught in his throat as images flashed in his mind’s eye, each more frightening than the last.
A series of swift bangs at a door … a starship lifting off from a spaceport … Luke crying, sobbing, as Obi-Wan wrestled frantically with a locking device, unable to reach his son … and through all of it, most chilling, a malevolently dark figure presided while Padmé screamed, screamed and begged for some unseen torture to cease. The images swirled and resolved themselves again to reveal a cavernous docking bay, in which a squat freighter sat and thousands of clone troops were on guard. A small group of beings, four human and one Wookiee, stood nervously behind a corner, apparently hiding. And far beyond he could hear the distant clash of lightsabers, soft but still discernible.
“Now’s our chance, go!” whispered a man who appeared to be these beings’ leader. He looked rather scruffy, dressed as he was in a dirty vest and ragged set of pants, but as soon as he gave the command, the Wookiee and the other three humans instantly took off toward the freighter.
Two of them, dark-haired women in dresses, ran instantly for the boarding ramp, but their companion, a young man, paused halfway across the docking bay, staring wide-eyed at something beyond Obi-Wan’s field of vision. The boy — for he really couldn’t be more than nineteen or twenty years old — looked horrified, as though he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.
The younger of the two women turned back and ran to the man, grabbing his arm, cajoling him, clearly attempting to convince him to return to the ship. In response he merely pointed, and Obi-Wan saw the woman’s mouth drop open. She immediately made to run towards the sound of the distant lightsabers, and her brother pulled her back.
“We have to help him! He’ll be killed!” she cried.
“Shon, remember what Dad said. His destiny lies along a different path from ours. We’ve got to get Leia back to the Fleet.”
“I don’t care!” the girl exclaimed. “He didn’t know he was in danger then! You’ve got the bond, Luke, you know!”
The older woman and the group’s leader had begun screaming at the pair, exhorting them in pleading tones to return to the ship. But Luke and his sister seemed rooted to the floor, no longer able to speak, watching the scene in front of them.
“Dad!” Luke yelled suddenly.
“Daddy, no!” bellowed the girl.
But whatever disaster they were trying to prevent materialized anyway, as evidenced by the screams from both. The girl looked about to run off again until she saw that her brother had fallen to his knees, eyes fixed straight ahead. The colour had drained from his face, and he looked as though he might be sick. Blaster fire rained down around them, and the younger sister tried in vain to tug Luke to his feet.
“Luke, we have to go! Come on!”
“I … I … I can’t …” His voice had dropped to a whisper, though Obi-Wan could still perceive it.
“They’re shooting, we have to run! Please!”
“No — he’s gone —”
“Leia needs you!” the younger sister practically screamed in Luke’s ear, and finally that seemed to spur him to action. He got clumsily to his feet and stumbled along after her, apparently barely able to control his own limbs. The ship’s hatch shut with a clang behind them — then another clang — and another —
Obi-Wan’s eyes flew open. Someone was knocking at the door, and judging by the insistence of the tapping, might have been doing so for quite some time. He tried abruptly to gather his wits, simultaneously attempting to hold on to a vision that was rapidly slipping from his mind. Padmé had screamed … Luke too … and someone else, two people he didn’t know, and they were all in danger … Luke had been upset, crushed, devastated … but Obi-Wan couldn’t recall anything more. It was like trying to clutch water.
“Excuse me, hello?” called a small voice from the other side of the door. “Master Kenobi?”
Lily, thought Obi-Wan. But what did she want? Despite the fact that he and Padmé, and their children, had taken up residence in Mon’s house, both Mon and Lily had been very generous about according the Kenobi family its privacy. So if she was bothering them now, something had to be very wrong.
The Force shrilled at him again.
“Yes? What’s the matter, Lily?”
“My mother wants you to come and see her, and to bring Padmé. I’m really sorry to disturb you, but she said it’s very urgent.”
Obi-Wan swallowed. “Are the twins all right?”
“They’re fine,” Lily answered. “It’s something else. I wish I could say more, but — Mom just wants to talk to you. Now.”
“Of course. Tell her we’ll be along in a few moments,” Obi-Wan told her.
The Force was still strangely silent on the exact nature of the threat, and all he could glean from probing Mon’s thoughts was that she felt frightened almost to the point of panic. That alarmed him further, since from what he’d seen since arriving on Chandrila, Mon Mothma was level-headed, capable, and very good in a crisis. Obi-Wan could only surmise that this must have something to do with the Empire, though beyond that he had no idea. And there were more important things to worry about at the moment.
“Darling?” he whispered, gently trying to prod Padmé awake. “Darling, we need to go talk to Mon, something’s happened.”
The only response Obi-Wan received was from the baby, who aimed a hard kick directly at his palm. Wincing, he placed his hands on his wife’s shoulders and tried to turn her over so that he could slide upright in the tub.
This at last caused Padmé to stir. “Stop … ’M sleeping …”
“I know, and I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan whispered, supporting her against his body. “But something has happened, and Mon wants us to speak with us. We need to get out and get dressed.”
“Luke …” She tossed her head from side to side, sounding fretful. “Is he … are they …?”
“The twins are fine, I promise you. Now, come on, darling. I need your help.”
Padmé merely moved closer. “Too tired …”
He frowned, slightly puzzled by her response — or lack thereof. The pregnancy had certainly caused her to become more easily fatigued, but Padmé rarely allowed that to deter her. In fact, there had been times when he’d needed to remind her to take her regular afternoon nap, so preoccupied was she with her work on the Alliance. When action needed to be taken, there were few better at planning and execution. Perhaps she was ill …?
Shaking that worrisome thought from his mind, Obi-Wan sighed and tried to prop her up again. “You can have your nap when we’ve talked to Mon, all right? But we need to get out of the tub; we’re going to catch a chill in here.”
It took several more minutes of convincing, but finally he was able to ease Padmé to her feet and onto the bath mat. He handed her a towel and she began listlessly to dry herself, not bothering to stifle the yawns that frequently overtook her. She was slow, too, and Obi-Wan was dry and dressed long before she had even finished toweling herself off.
“I suppose I must really have tired you out,” he joked nervously, wanting to see her smile, hear her laugh. This … exhaustion was frightening.
“I guess you did.” Padmé reached for her dress, dropped it, picked it up and dropped it again. Obi-Wan sighed inwardly and draped the garment over her head, slipping her arms gently into the sleeves.
“Are you feeling all right, darling?” Obi-Wan asked as they made their way down the hall back to the bedroom. “You don’t look so well.”
“I’m just tired,” Padmé said defensively, suddenly seeming to flare to life. “Pregnancy is an exhausting business, Obi-Wan! Although I suppose you wouldn’t know.”
The bite to her tone made him draw back a little. “I’m sorry, I just —”
“I know, you’re nervous,” she interrupted. “You’re always nervous. You keep looking at me like I’m a thermal detonator about to explode. I. Am. Fine.”
Obi-Wan was tempted to roll his eyes, but he knew that would only make her angrier. Besides, he could sense as they drew closer to the bedroom that there was someone inside, and that this person was moving with a great deal of speed and urgency. Furrowing his brow in confusion, he waved a hand at the door sensor and the door slid open automatically.
“Mon!” exclaimed Padmé, momentarily startled out of her annoyance. “What are you doing here?”
Their friend didn’t turn, and they could now see that several pieces of luggage were open on the bed. Mon bustled about, tossing various articles of clothing into them. “Oh, good, Lily gave you the message. I have some rather bad news.”
“Bad news?” Obi-Wan’s stomach lurched.
At last Mon turned, and the fear was evident on her face. “Bail sent me a message just a few moments ago. The Empire is sending an envoy to each of your former associates, Padmé, and the directives governing their visit come from Lord Vader himself.”
“Wh-what? The Empire’s coming here?” Padmé stammered.
“Yes. The envoy will question me as to your exact whereabouts. And I’m afraid I can do nothing to prevent it.”
Author:
padme_kenobiPrevious Chapters: Can be read here.
Characters/Pairings: Obi-Wan/Padmé, Mon Mothma (briefly)
Word Count: 4,618
Rating: NC-17 - yep, there's more smut, heh
Summary: “Oh, good, Lily gave you the message. I have some rather bad news.”
Author's Notes: So, here's the next chapter, as promised. :) Katie has convinced me to post this particular plot arc chapter-by-chapter even though that will mean some craaaazy cliffhangers, and I agreed mostly because at the rate that I'm writing right now, the entire arc might not be finished until roughly 2020. *headdesk* In any case, I hope to pick it up soon - just be aware that there might be a few days' gap between chapters as I try to bully my muse into giving me more than just dribs and drabs. Heh. And also, this is the chapter in which Obi-Wan and Padmé have an argument about bubble bath. Yes, bubble bath. *eyes her subconscious* I kind of scare myself sometimes. LOL.
“So, am I forgiven?” Padmé said quietly, her lips lifting in a small smile.
It took Obi-Wan a moment to remember what she was talking about, and he leaned down to nuzzle her. “After that? Of course, darling.”
“Ah, so what you’re saying is that you can be easily bought off.” She winked. “That could be useful knowledge.”
“I certainly can after seven months of being denied my wife.”
Padmé chuckled. “I think I’ve finally found out your secret, Master Kenobi.”
“Have you, Senator Kenobi?”
They both grinned, and she came forward to kiss him, their touches languid and slow. He would have been content to stay that way, to enjoy the gentle encounter, but Padmé was already deepening the kisses, her breath beginning to quicken. Sheathed as he still was inside her, Obi-Wan could feel that she was wet, and not just from the remnants of his climax. She wanted him again — quite reasonable given that she’d not yet had a chance to arrive at her own satisfaction.
“Take a bath with me,” Padmé whispered.
“A bath?” Obi-Wan blinked.
“Yes, like we did at Varykino that one time,” she persisted. “Remember, when I convinced you to take shore leave and we went to Naboo and I introduced you to my parents? And then we stayed in the Lake Country and —”
“Ah, yes, I do remember. Wasn’t that also when you conceived the twins?”
She giggled. “Maybe. I suppose it does work, with the timing. But I also think you need hardly be concerned about that particular possibility. Not anymore.”
“I know, I was only teasing,” Obi-Wan smiled.
“So …?” Padmé rocked him back into the wall again, gently but with clear intent. “Please? I told you I haven’t been able to fit into the shower very easily, so this would be the perfect opportunity.”
“Somehow I don’t think getting clean will turn out to be the primary objective of this endeavour,” Obi-Wan pointed out, though he couldn’t resist another smile. “Besides, is a full immersion in water —?”
“Yes, of course it’s safe.” She waved away his concern. “Dr. Ti-Lek said I can continue to take baths until my ninth month, and we’re well outside of that limit at the moment. And the tub is certainly big enough. And —”
“All right, all right.” It was his turn to interrupt. “I can see I haven’t got a leg to stand on in this particular debate, do I, Senator?”
“Quite right.” Padmé flashed him a winning smile and stepped carefully away, allowing him to slide slowly out of her. She had taken his hand and begun to lead him away before it occurred to Obi-Wan to ask another question.
“What about Luke and Leia?”
“Up, and dressed, and probably playing with Lily,” she answered. “I saw to that before I came back here.”
“Another part of your dastardly plan, I assume?”
She winked. “You might say that.”
In the fresher Padmé twisted the knobs to begin filling the tub, adding a small amount of scented bubble bath until white foam was piled up in a corner. Obi-Wan blinked and eyed it suspiciously, turning from where he had been gathering towels from the linen closet.
“What do we need those for?” He gestured to the bubbles.
“To help us relax,” Padmé explained. “At least, that’s what it’s supposed to do. ‘Creates a luscious cloud to nourish your pores and invigorate your senses for complete bodily replenishment,’” she read from the bubble bath’s bottle.
“How in the galaxy is a solution of water, sucrose and livening agent going to do all that?” Obi-Wan wanted to know.
She shrugged. “I’m not sure. But I always use it. At least I do on the rare occasions when I can actually take a bath.”
“I think you’re being conned,” he told her. “There are better ways to spend one’s credits.”
“So you’re saying you’ve never put anything in your bathwater?” Padmé arched an eyebrow.
“Not only that, I’m also not in the habit of using such exorbitant amounts of water for this purpose. It’s very wasteful. And a sonic shower will clean you much more effectively.”
“I thought we said this wasn’t about getting clean.” She chuckled.
“It isn’t, but …” Obi-Wan gave a helpless shrug. “I just can’t see the reasoning behind such a luxury. A useless luxury at that.”
“Oh, of course it’s probably useless, but since I didn’t buy it, I’m not going to worry about that,” Padmé grinned. “It was here when we arrived, and it may as well get used. Unless of course you’re afraid.”
“Why would I be afraid of a few bubbles?”
“I don’t know, you just had such a suspicious look on your face when you asked about them, that’s all.” She giggled. “Like they were going to leap out of the tub and bite you. They’ll do no such thing, I assure you.”
“Well, I know that,” he said crossly. “I just — oh, never mind.”
Padmé laughed again, but she was soon silenced as he crept behind her and pressed her gently into the wall, covering her momentary surprise with a series of kisses. She responded immediately, deepening the embrace and pulling him towards her, moaning softly into his mouth. With a wicked grin of his own, Obi-Wan slid off the light dress she’d put on for the walk down the hall and trailed his fingers down to her breasts, tracing slow circles around each nipple. Her hands were moving in the opposite direction, up, up to his cheeks, tangling in his hair.
“I … I want …” She gasped, biting her lip as he began to massage.
“Yes?” Obi-Wan was quite enjoying himself.
“Your mouth … please …”
“Of course, darling.” And with no more pretence than this he abruptly lowered his head, tongue darting out to follow the movements of his fingers, teasing her until her nipples were stiff under his touch and she was panting, gasping, her head thrown back against the wall.
“Obi-Wan, I — I … oh …” Padmé shuddered, the shaking passing through her body, her breath hitching as she trembled. Her grip tightened and then relaxed and she sighed, radiating satisfaction and contentment.
Obi-Wan blinked, eyeing her with surprise. “Did you just —?”
His wife had the look of a contented Puuri cat. “Mmm, yes. And it was wonderful. Thank you.”
That’s the fastest I’ve brought her to climax in seven years. Obi-Wan mentally congratulated himself. “You’re very welcome, though I barely did anything.”
“It’s easier when you’re pregnant,” she explained. “To become stimulated is … quite simple, sometimes simpler than I’d like. It can be hard to get away from that. And you feel it more deeply. Every sensation is magnified.”
“Is that why you’ve been stalking me?” He arched an eyebrow.
“I would hardly call it stalking,” Padmé replied, sounding almost offended at the notion. “I’ve just tried to — convince you. That’s all.”
“Your definition of convincing is not the same as mine,” Obi-Wan chuckled, shaking his head. Next moment he frowned, having been visited by a sudden and rather unwelcome flashback. He sighed.
She picked up on the change almost instantly. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, fine. Come on, we’d better shut off the water or the tub will overflow.”
Padmé twisted the knobs, but she did not stop gazing at him, even as he shed his own clothing and took her arm to help her climb into the bathtub. She lowered herself carefully and opened her arms, ready to receive him, and he slid her forward so that he could sit directly behind her.
“Are you sure nothing’s wrong?” Padmé asked as she reclined against him. “You looked — sort of far away there for a moment.”
“Remembering something,” Obi-Wan said uncomfortably. “From the rescue, the mission to rescue Palpatine from Grievous’ flagship. Stupid, given whom he turned out to be. We should have left him there to rot. But — but Anakin and I were needing to escape from those bodyguards Grievous used to have, and he cut a hole in the floor so that we dropped through into a tank full of spare fuel —”
“Fuel!” Padmé interrupted with a gasp. “You and Ani were swimming around in fuel? One spark could have killed you both!”
“Well, it was either that or be massacred by the guards, darling,” he pointed out. “In any case, Anakin remarked that we were safe now, I suppose meaning that we were out of the guards’ line of sight, and I told him that his definition of safe wasn’t similar to mine. That’s all.”
She was silent for a long moment, finally murmuring, “If all your rescues were like that, I think it’s better I don’t know the details.”
Privately, Obi-Wan was inclined to agree. “They weren’t; not really. But he did have a tendency to make them more interesting than they needed to be.”
“He certainly did.” Her hand trailed slowly through the water.
“Then again, matters usually became rather complicated when you were involved, as well,” Obi-Wan said mischievously, hoping to deflect the conversation.
It worked. “Whatever in the galaxy are you talking about?” Padmé demanded, whirling to face him and splashing around a fair amount of bathwater in the process.
“Just that after Geonosis, I was going to reprimand a certain apprentice of mine and both he and you insisted that rushing off to rescue me against Master Windu’s orders had been entirely your idea,” he told her.
“Yes, but you were going to die!” she objected. “And all because of your mission to seek out my assassin! I would never have forgiven myself if Ani and I had sat there on Tatooine and done nothing while you were in such danger! Besides, I thought I could bargain with Dooku for your life, that I could negotiate so it wouldn’t come to any bloodshed. I know it didn’t work, but …”
“Ever the politician,” Obi-Wan smiled. “When in doubt, negotiate.”
“Which could also have been your motto during the war,” Padmé pointed out. “Didn’t the HoloNet take to calling you the Negotiator?”
“Yes, but I wasn’t a politician. There’s a difference.”
“Oh, is there?” She arched an eyebrow. “So your attitude and beliefs about politicians haven’t changed despite the fact that you’re currently living in one’s home and you married one?”
“No, not really. You and Mon are simply exceptions to the rule,” Obi-Wan told her.
“And Bail?” asked Padmé pointedly.
“And Bail, too, of course.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re quite insufferable, do you know that?”
“You married me.” He turned her criticism deftly back on her with a wink.
“I suppose I did.” Padmé reached for his hand and brought it to her mouth, gently kissing each finger. “Well, I was in love with you. I am in love with you. That’s my own failing.”
Obi-Wan leaned forward, his lips just grazing her shoulder as he trailed soft kisses up the side of her neck. “Not a failing, darling. Not in any way a failing. My years with you have taught me that if nothing else.”
“Mmm,” she murmured, unable to conjure any other form of expression while he was doing such delicious things, spreading warm prickles under her skin, his calloused fingers massaging her nipples into stiff peaks. She slid back against him, seeking to increase the friction, and delighted in his sharp intake of breath as her buttocks brushed his groin.
“Padmé …” Obi-Wan’s voice was a breathy whisper, and she could feel him hardening.
“What?” Padmé gasped; he’d retaliated, his hand now seeking her clit at the apex of dark curls between her thighs. And oh — oh — there — he’d found it now, but before she could even gasp a request to continue, Obi-Wan slipped a finger inside her. She was wet from the water, wet from arousal, practically dizzy with the sensations coursing through her. Dizzy — yes — the room spun, and she ducked back against his chest, under his chin. “Please … more …”
In answer he captured her lips in a kiss, tender but sensuous, his breathing needy and desperate. Padmé wanted him more for it, and she pressed into his length again, intent clear. To her surprise he withdrew his finger, placing two hands on her shoulders to still her.
“Wait — just —” He swallowed audibly. “I can’t — I can’t hold on much longer, not with you doing that, and I want it longer … better … you with me …”
And she understood, because after seven years of loving him, of being with him like this, Padmé couldn’t imagine not being able to comprehend his feelings. Stroking her husband’s hand reassuringly, she slipped out of his grasp and turned, sliding him with her until they were facing one another with their legs locked. It took only a small motion forward, barely perceptible, until he filled her, and she gasped with sensation.
“Too much?” Obi-Wan panted.
“No … oh goddesses, no … just please, like that …”
Padmé realized she didn’t need anything more, none of the stimulation that they usually provided to one another. They both seemed on edge already, but this was about other things than simply reaching climax. Husband and wife needed each other, right in that moment, after so many months of connecting in ways that were not physical. Blame seemed to have long since been expunged from the deal, and she was not surprised at this — Obi-Wan was not one to hold grudges. Above all he loved her and wanted to be close to her, and he knew that in the end she had only orchestrated the approaches and retreats in order to bring some much-needed levity into a situation where precious little could be found. There was every indication that this paradise, their version of paradise, would soon be disrupted by the baby’s birth and then, the eventual move to Tatooine. They could try to put it off, but in the end, there was no getting away from simple fact. Much as they had done during the war, the only remedy was to snatch small moments of happiness and laughter, both with their children and with each other. And in this at least, they could call themselves experts in a skill honed through bald necessity.
Her orgasm rippled through her first, a litany of sensation that left her repeating his name over and over, once for each wave. Padmé was so lost in it that she barely noticed when Obi-Wan let go, or that he finally felt content enough to do so.
They embraced, satisfied.
***
She still smells of Naboo.
He smiled as that thought occurred to him, incongruous but truthful. When they had still lived at Varykino, Nubian roses had grown wild in the garden by the twins’ room, and Padmé was always bringing in bouquets to use as centerpieces for their table. She would also soak petals in water and rinse her hair with it, meaning that Obi-Wan was almost always surrounded by the scent. Sometimes if he felt particularly playful, he’d pluck a rose from its stem and creep up behind his wife as she worked in the kitchen, twining it deftly into her curls. Padmé adored these interludes and would act surprised nearly every time, though they both knew she wasn’t. And she would wear the rose for the rest of the day, sometimes even reaching up to feel its delicate petals.
Even now, with Nubian roses being far scarcer, Padmé occasionally requested that they be obtained for her, and Mon seemed only too happy to oblige. If he looked over to the counter he could see a bowl of petals soaking there, waiting for when she next rinsed her hair. Obi-Wan had often asked if they should use the water for Leia, too, but there was apparently some complex tradition surrounding the roses, and one of this tradition’s decrees was that a woman be at least thirteen years of age before her mother showed her how to do it. He didn’t pretend to understand why this was the case, and neither did Padmé, but she was adamant that they observe the tradition properly.
Obi-Wan ran a hand softly down her cheek, careful not to wake her. She had fallen asleep against him after several more sessions of lovemaking, and he suspected he had slept too, for a sensation of time having passed hung in the air. He would have been quite content to stay there forever, using the Force to twist the bathtub knobs and add more warm water when the tub got too cold, feeling her sigh slowly and wiggle closer to him. The last time she had done this, the swell of her pregnancy just touched the plasteel side of the tub, and he was quick to slide his hand in between her abdomen and the cool surface so that if the child kicked, no injuries would be sustained. The baby seemed restless in his wife’s womb, disturbed by something … or perhaps this was just a normal reaction to the kind of activities in which her parents had engaged previously. Obi-Wan would have to ask Padmé later.
He leaned his head back against the wall and allowed his eyes to drift shut. Perhaps now was the time to work in the meditation session that he had not completed earlier. The physical part of meditation was clearly out of the question, but the other aspects … those should be easy.
Swiftly Obi-Wan slipped beneath the current of the Force’s first layer, allowing himself to drift with it rather than trying to impose his own will and excise meaning. He would never have admitted it to anyone else, but he particularly enjoyed meditation when Padmé was nearby even though he no longer needed her to serve as his centre. Somehow he could see more clearly, and could discern a wider field of possibilities, when his wife was in the same room or otherwise in close proximity to him. It was why he generally tended to awaken before her and perform his meditations at dawn, when he could be sure that she slept behind him.
Foreboding.
He would have been knocked off his feet by the strength of the warning, had he been standing. The Force rippled and boiled with fear and emotion, a tempest stirred up before an advancing storm. Obi-Wan’s breath caught in his throat as images flashed in his mind’s eye, each more frightening than the last.
A series of swift bangs at a door … a starship lifting off from a spaceport … Luke crying, sobbing, as Obi-Wan wrestled frantically with a locking device, unable to reach his son … and through all of it, most chilling, a malevolently dark figure presided while Padmé screamed, screamed and begged for some unseen torture to cease. The images swirled and resolved themselves again to reveal a cavernous docking bay, in which a squat freighter sat and thousands of clone troops were on guard. A small group of beings, four human and one Wookiee, stood nervously behind a corner, apparently hiding. And far beyond he could hear the distant clash of lightsabers, soft but still discernible.
“Now’s our chance, go!” whispered a man who appeared to be these beings’ leader. He looked rather scruffy, dressed as he was in a dirty vest and ragged set of pants, but as soon as he gave the command, the Wookiee and the other three humans instantly took off toward the freighter.
Two of them, dark-haired women in dresses, ran instantly for the boarding ramp, but their companion, a young man, paused halfway across the docking bay, staring wide-eyed at something beyond Obi-Wan’s field of vision. The boy — for he really couldn’t be more than nineteen or twenty years old — looked horrified, as though he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.
The younger of the two women turned back and ran to the man, grabbing his arm, cajoling him, clearly attempting to convince him to return to the ship. In response he merely pointed, and Obi-Wan saw the woman’s mouth drop open. She immediately made to run towards the sound of the distant lightsabers, and her brother pulled her back.
“We have to help him! He’ll be killed!” she cried.
“Shon, remember what Dad said. His destiny lies along a different path from ours. We’ve got to get Leia back to the Fleet.”
“I don’t care!” the girl exclaimed. “He didn’t know he was in danger then! You’ve got the bond, Luke, you know!”
The older woman and the group’s leader had begun screaming at the pair, exhorting them in pleading tones to return to the ship. But Luke and his sister seemed rooted to the floor, no longer able to speak, watching the scene in front of them.
“Dad!” Luke yelled suddenly.
“Daddy, no!” bellowed the girl.
But whatever disaster they were trying to prevent materialized anyway, as evidenced by the screams from both. The girl looked about to run off again until she saw that her brother had fallen to his knees, eyes fixed straight ahead. The colour had drained from his face, and he looked as though he might be sick. Blaster fire rained down around them, and the younger sister tried in vain to tug Luke to his feet.
“Luke, we have to go! Come on!”
“I … I … I can’t …” His voice had dropped to a whisper, though Obi-Wan could still perceive it.
“They’re shooting, we have to run! Please!”
“No — he’s gone —”
“Leia needs you!” the younger sister practically screamed in Luke’s ear, and finally that seemed to spur him to action. He got clumsily to his feet and stumbled along after her, apparently barely able to control his own limbs. The ship’s hatch shut with a clang behind them — then another clang — and another —
Obi-Wan’s eyes flew open. Someone was knocking at the door, and judging by the insistence of the tapping, might have been doing so for quite some time. He tried abruptly to gather his wits, simultaneously attempting to hold on to a vision that was rapidly slipping from his mind. Padmé had screamed … Luke too … and someone else, two people he didn’t know, and they were all in danger … Luke had been upset, crushed, devastated … but Obi-Wan couldn’t recall anything more. It was like trying to clutch water.
“Excuse me, hello?” called a small voice from the other side of the door. “Master Kenobi?”
Lily, thought Obi-Wan. But what did she want? Despite the fact that he and Padmé, and their children, had taken up residence in Mon’s house, both Mon and Lily had been very generous about according the Kenobi family its privacy. So if she was bothering them now, something had to be very wrong.
The Force shrilled at him again.
“Yes? What’s the matter, Lily?”
“My mother wants you to come and see her, and to bring Padmé. I’m really sorry to disturb you, but she said it’s very urgent.”
Obi-Wan swallowed. “Are the twins all right?”
“They’re fine,” Lily answered. “It’s something else. I wish I could say more, but — Mom just wants to talk to you. Now.”
“Of course. Tell her we’ll be along in a few moments,” Obi-Wan told her.
The Force was still strangely silent on the exact nature of the threat, and all he could glean from probing Mon’s thoughts was that she felt frightened almost to the point of panic. That alarmed him further, since from what he’d seen since arriving on Chandrila, Mon Mothma was level-headed, capable, and very good in a crisis. Obi-Wan could only surmise that this must have something to do with the Empire, though beyond that he had no idea. And there were more important things to worry about at the moment.
“Darling?” he whispered, gently trying to prod Padmé awake. “Darling, we need to go talk to Mon, something’s happened.”
The only response Obi-Wan received was from the baby, who aimed a hard kick directly at his palm. Wincing, he placed his hands on his wife’s shoulders and tried to turn her over so that he could slide upright in the tub.
This at last caused Padmé to stir. “Stop … ’M sleeping …”
“I know, and I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan whispered, supporting her against his body. “But something has happened, and Mon wants us to speak with us. We need to get out and get dressed.”
“Luke …” She tossed her head from side to side, sounding fretful. “Is he … are they …?”
“The twins are fine, I promise you. Now, come on, darling. I need your help.”
Padmé merely moved closer. “Too tired …”
He frowned, slightly puzzled by her response — or lack thereof. The pregnancy had certainly caused her to become more easily fatigued, but Padmé rarely allowed that to deter her. In fact, there had been times when he’d needed to remind her to take her regular afternoon nap, so preoccupied was she with her work on the Alliance. When action needed to be taken, there were few better at planning and execution. Perhaps she was ill …?
Shaking that worrisome thought from his mind, Obi-Wan sighed and tried to prop her up again. “You can have your nap when we’ve talked to Mon, all right? But we need to get out of the tub; we’re going to catch a chill in here.”
It took several more minutes of convincing, but finally he was able to ease Padmé to her feet and onto the bath mat. He handed her a towel and she began listlessly to dry herself, not bothering to stifle the yawns that frequently overtook her. She was slow, too, and Obi-Wan was dry and dressed long before she had even finished toweling herself off.
“I suppose I must really have tired you out,” he joked nervously, wanting to see her smile, hear her laugh. This … exhaustion was frightening.
“I guess you did.” Padmé reached for her dress, dropped it, picked it up and dropped it again. Obi-Wan sighed inwardly and draped the garment over her head, slipping her arms gently into the sleeves.
“Are you feeling all right, darling?” Obi-Wan asked as they made their way down the hall back to the bedroom. “You don’t look so well.”
“I’m just tired,” Padmé said defensively, suddenly seeming to flare to life. “Pregnancy is an exhausting business, Obi-Wan! Although I suppose you wouldn’t know.”
The bite to her tone made him draw back a little. “I’m sorry, I just —”
“I know, you’re nervous,” she interrupted. “You’re always nervous. You keep looking at me like I’m a thermal detonator about to explode. I. Am. Fine.”
Obi-Wan was tempted to roll his eyes, but he knew that would only make her angrier. Besides, he could sense as they drew closer to the bedroom that there was someone inside, and that this person was moving with a great deal of speed and urgency. Furrowing his brow in confusion, he waved a hand at the door sensor and the door slid open automatically.
“Mon!” exclaimed Padmé, momentarily startled out of her annoyance. “What are you doing here?”
Their friend didn’t turn, and they could now see that several pieces of luggage were open on the bed. Mon bustled about, tossing various articles of clothing into them. “Oh, good, Lily gave you the message. I have some rather bad news.”
“Bad news?” Obi-Wan’s stomach lurched.
At last Mon turned, and the fear was evident on her face. “Bail sent me a message just a few moments ago. The Empire is sending an envoy to each of your former associates, Padmé, and the directives governing their visit come from Lord Vader himself.”
“Wh-what? The Empire’s coming here?” Padmé stammered.
“Yes. The envoy will question me as to your exact whereabouts. And I’m afraid I can do nothing to prevent it.”