of the Father: Chapter 14
ADULT rated version
she says firmly, crossing her arms
over her chest as she stares at the doctor.
Padmé understood the need to stay overnight, but she is quickly
of this hospital room. She wants to go
shoots a pleading gaze at the Emperor.
"I'm not going to stop her," he says. Darkly, he adds, "And I
recommend you have anyone else try."
The doctor sighs
in resignation. "Fine," he snips, "but you
nods in agreement, but heads for the door. If she has to spend
another second smelling
bacta she may lose her mind.
sighs blissfully as the water washes over her
body. She scrubs her hair three separate
times, trying to rid her tresses of the inescapable stench of
She thought her
long years on Tatooine made the concept of
home forever elusive. However, her
absolute gratitude upon returning to her own apartment is testament to
contrary. She has never been so happy to
Anakin is still
here, waiting in her bedroom, guarding her
until Lorian arrives to take his place.
Mehht, undoubtedly is anxiously anticipating the event. As much
as Padmé loves Mehht and as much as
she wishes to see Mehht happy, she does not share the sentiment.
Padmé can’t remember the last time she had
the luxury of turning to someone during a crisis, of truly sharing her
and her fears with a partner. Experience
taught her to depend on no one save herself, yet she can’t bring
pull back from Anakin when he is finally within her reach.
With a sigh, she
turns off the water. She knows there is certain danger is
herself to hope Anakin will see reason, to hope he can and will return
her. But she can't stop herself. She needs to believe it is
all is lost.
front of the mirror, Padmé runs the towel over
her hair, patting it dry. Her long
chestnut locks trail over her shoulders and back in soft curls.
Wrapping the towel around her body, she
stares at the 'fresher door. She
onpurposeforgot to bring her change of clothes into the 'fresher with
despite the fact that Anakin is waiting in her bedroom. She feels
rather ridiculous. Anakin is her husband. He fathered her
children. He saw her naked only a few days ago.
But this is
undeniably changed between them. She isn't going to let him pull
regardless of how viciously Lord Vader fights her on that front.
Anakin – her
Anakin - is
there; she knows that in her heart.
She has no
intention of parading around in front of him to
provoke a sexual response. He obviously
desires her physically and she can no longer deny that she feels the
same. However, she isn't worried he will find an
implied invitation in her manner of dress – or undress. Rather,
she feels trepidation about
escalating the intimacy of their relationship.
Not physical intimacy, but emotional.
Often times, such small gestures hold incredible power.
If she walks
into her bedroom dressed only in her towel
knowing he is there … the gesture holds power.
It implies he is entitled to watch her in this manner. It implies
that she views him as more than a
husband in name. And it requires a great
deal of vulnerability on her part which is incredibly difficult
spent the last decade and a half inuring herself to his very
resolve, Padmé opens the 'fresher door and
steps into her bedroom. Anakin is there,
his back to her as he stares out the window.
Realizing there is a change of clothes laid out on her bed,
crosses the room. She stares down at the
"Did Mehht set
these out?" she asks quietly. It is a sand colored tunic and
brought from Tatooine. While she would
love nothing more than to wear the blissfully comfortable garments,
hardly befitting the Empress.
to stare out the window for several more
moments before finally turning to meet her gaze. "No, I did."
blinks at him.
"I wanted you to be comfortable."
His words are
bland and reasonable enough, but there is
something in his manner, something close to embarrassment onto which
thoughts latch. She remembers an
exchange they had shortly after her return to Coruscant where his
seemed unaccountably fixed on her moisture farmer attire.
She cocks her
head to the side as she regards him. "Do you like these clothes?"
looking away, but there is a slight blush to his
skin that betrays him.
she prompts softly.
He turns back to
her with a sheepish expression. "It … reminds me of home," he
Her lips curve
into a smile.
"That's sweet," she replies gently.
mortified by the entire exchange, Anakin switches
tactics. He crosses the room to her and
reaches out, running his fingertips over the edge of her towel.
"I prefer you in nothing at all,"
he says wolfishly.
She gives him a
"Is that so? I thought
Lorian was on his way over so you could leave."
His leering grin
borders on lecherous. "Lorian can wait. I'm sure Mehht can
"Korto can wait too. He's
not going anywhere. Ever."
for the spot where her towel is tucked over
on itself, securing it closed.
Reflexively, Padmé's hand covers his.
there, feeling her heart pound in her chest. He is so close, his
breath puffing against
her face. He waits and she can almost
feel how tightly his muscles are wound, how he is fighting himself,
her cue on how to proceed.
She takes a deep
breath and releases it on a shaky
exhale. Gripping his hand more tightly,
she twists it back in a motion that tumbles the knot free, sending the
sliding to the floor. They stand there
for a moment, neither moving. She is
acutely aware of her nudity and his clothing.
His tongue wets
his upper lip and she has the sensation that
he is going to say something.
Apparently, he changes his mind.
With a muffled
curse, he grabs her, one of his hands
threading through her wet tresses, gripping the back of her head, the
banding across her lower back, pulling her tightly against his
Their mouths meet in a voracious kiss. Her lips part instantly
and he takes full
advantage, pulling her close as he arches her backward, deepening the
demanding her submission. Never one to
go quietly, she nips at his lips, biting down gently, marking her
return. From the rumbling growl at the
back of his throat, she knows he approves.
Her arms twine
around his neck and she pushes herself
against him, fighting to get closer. The
coarse material of his black tunic and the supple texture of his
tabard are exquisite torture against her naked skin. With an
impatient snarl, he pulls away long
enough to tear at his obi and tabard, shrugging out of his tunic until
clothing joins her towel on the bedroom floor.
And then he is
there, bare from the waist up, tumbling her
back onto the bed. She reaches for him,
her short fingernails biting into the flesh of his upper arms, pulling
on top of her. Kissing him possessively,
her nerves singing with pleasure at the sensation of his bare chest
hers. It has been so long since she last
felt the weight of his naked body pressing
down on her own.
He breaks off
the kiss, his lips finding the tender flesh of
her neck as he fights to kick off his boots.
One of his hands covers her breast and she arches into his touch,
groaning. His kisses nip down the
sensitive column of her neck and across her collarbone. She
gasps, tunneling her fingers through his
hair as his mouth seals over her nipple.
He bites down gently and she yelps in pleasure-pain. Not stopping
his sensual assault, he sucks
harder. Heat pools low in her belly,
intensifying in perfect rhythm with the pull of his mouth.
Moaning, she arches insistently beneath
him. He releases her nipple from his
mouth long enough to look up and meet her gaze with a smug, carnal
something in that grin that is a bit too
self-assured and she takes it as a challenge.
She pushes off the bed with one leg, twisting beneath him and he allows
her to flip him over on his back. She
immediately crawls over him, straddling his hips, her hands braced
shoulders, pinning him to the bed.
She stares down
at him through narrowed eyes and he does
nothing to conceal his absolute delight in her play of dominance.
Some things never change. He loves few things more than a good
and this particular sensual combat has always been his favorite – even
loses, he still wins.
Sinking on her
haunches, she sits back on him, sealing her
pelvis to his. The insistent jut of his
erection presses against her most intimate places and she gasps at the
sensation, her eyes falling shut as she shivers in pleasure. His
hands find her hips, grinding her down
against his aroused body. Biting down on
her bottom lip, she rocks gently back and forth against the coarse
eyes, she looks down at him. “You’re still wearing an awful lot
clothes,” she says.
“I'm more than
happy to fix that,” he replies in all
prevent the giggle that crosses her lips. Rising up on her knees,
she tugs impatiently
at the waistband of his pants. True to
his word, he is all too eager to assist and soon the pants join the
their clothes on the floor.
Poised over him
on all fours, she looks down into the
perfect blue of his eyes. For a moment,
the playful, aggressive demeanor is gone and he meets her gaze in
silence. His hand cups her cheek and he pulls her
close for a tender kiss that leaves her breathless.
But in the span
of a few heartbeats, the tenderness turns
once again to hunger and she is aching for his touch. “Ani,” she
pants against his lips.
He groans, one
of his hands finding her hip and then
tickling gently across her belly to her nest of damp, wiry curls.
His fingers sift gently through the coarse
hair, parting the lips of her sex. She
is wet for him, her dew liberally coating his questing fingers.
He rubs her gently, his fingers trailing over
the sensitive bud of her clit, causing her breath to catch in her
throat. But he does not linger there, his fingers
venture lower and one slips inside her body, gently teasing in the
she aches so desperately for him.
She moans, her
teeth finding the corded muscle of his
shoulder and biting down hard. His
breath hisses through his teeth, but he doesn’t stop his gentle
adding a second finger to her liquid depths.
She shivers again, arching against his hand, needing more. He
complies, using his thumb to press against
her clit while his fingers rock in and out of her body with the
movement of her
All at once, she
grabs his hand, pulling it away, pinning it
to the bed. She looks down at him, her
vision unfocused. “No,” she pants
She sees the
emotions flit across his face, the fear and
betrayal when he thinks she is rejecting him.
Her tongue darts
out to wet her lips. “No,” she clarifies softly, using her free
hand to gently grasp his erection, circling her fingers around the
stroking him in one long move. “I want
you inside me when I come.”
of betrayal vanishes so quickly it might have
never been there. With a growl, he rolls
them both, flipping her over on her back and insinuating himself
legs. She feels his cock hard and
impressive against her inner thigh and she aches to feel him inside
She reaches for him and he reins in his own
needs, allowing her to explore as she wishes.
His skin is so hot, his entire body so muscled and firm. She
forgot what this is like, this intimacy
and need and utter fascination with his physical form. His
body is more impressive now than when
they were newly wed. He has matured,
aged to perfection. Decades spent
training not only his mind and skills, but his physical body wrought
always one of his favorite sins and she looks up,
meeting his gaze. He is watching her
intently, luxuriating in her appreciation of his body. Normally
his smugness would bother her, but
in this context, she figures he deserves to be a little vain.
With a carnal
grin, she scratches her short fingernails down
his muscled chest and firm abdomen. She
reaches his sex and her touch gentles, her smile fading. Lightly,
her fingertips trace over the rigid
length of his erection. His hips jump
reflexively under her touch and she can see his jaw muscles clench
he fights to remain still.
She closes her
hand around his sex, stroking the length of
him. "Padmé," he groans, his
eyes falling shut. She smiles deviously,
filled with raw, feminine power. He is a
sinfully handsome alpha male who is capable of having any woman he
chooses. Knowing she has the power to affect him so
profoundly is a heady sensation.
She prolongs the
exquisite torture, stroking him faster and
then slower, loosening and then tightening her grip. On the
upward strokes, her thumb caresses the
head of his cock, making his breath hiss between his teeth.
He finally grabs
her wrist and in a mirror image of her
earlier actions, pins her hand to the bed.
He stares into her eyes and she knows.
She moves restlessly beneath him and he covers her body with his
own. Capturing her lips in a tender
kiss, he uses one hand to guide his cock to her entrance. She is
so primed for him, so wet that he
slides inside her easily, entering her completely in one long, seamless
She yelps his
name, her legs wrapping around his waist as
her fingernails dig into the corded muscle of his back. He gasps
and then bites down gently on her
earlobe, forcing himself to hold still, giving her time. She
pants harshly, turning her head and
pulling her earlobe free of his teeth so she can nip along his stubbled
jaw. The feel of him inside her is
exquisite pleasure bordered by pain. It
has been so long.
No longer able
to remain still, he pulls back and slides
inside her again. They both gasp at the
sensation. He repeats the fluid motion
again and again, driving into her more forcefully with every
Heat and tension coil inside her body and her
fingernails bite deeply into his flesh.
He doesn't seem to notice. He is
driving into her now, mindless of everything save their combined
pleasure. Her internal muscles flutter around him and
he groans her name, thrusting harder, faster.
There is a
blinding flash of light behind her eyes and she
is spinning away, crying out his name as her entire body shivers in
pleasure. She is only dimly aware of his
body cording above hers, her name on his lips as he finds his own
sleeping on his right side, his body turned toward
her, his face half-buried in a pillow.
Looking exhausted, he snores softly.
In his sleep, his flesh and bone arm is banded possessively around her
waist, holding her against his body. She
takes careful note of the scrapes and scabs on his knuckles that he
sustained in the explosion.
His bare feet
stick out from beneath the blanket loosely
draped around both of them. It strikes
Padmé as oddly vulnerable to see a Sith Lord's bare feet.
She can’t remember the last time she had the
opportunity to watch him like this, his expression relaxed and
He doesn’t look like the Emperor or a Sith
Lord. He looks like her Ani. He looks like the brave young
shared her bed so many years ago. There
are differences to be certain. He is
more scarred. And more tired. And more broken.
So is she.
The cut across
his left cheek is starting to scab and there
is some bruising. A simple bacta patch
would heal his skin perfectly and leave no scar but apparently he was
agitated to worry about his own vanity.
Or maybe not. It gives him a
certain roguish look – not that he ever needed any help in that
She gently runs
her fingertips over his abused skin and his
eye flutters open. He watches her
carefully, pushing himself up on his right arm.
She can tell that it takes him a moment to get his bearings, to
where he is and why she is here. Padmé
can’t point out any one thing he does, but she gets the distinct
is not accustomed to waking up in bed with another person.
"I fell asleep,"
he says, his voice rough from
tired," she says softly, pressing a
gentle kiss to his lips.
He makes an
appreciative sound and pushes her back against
the pillow, deepening the kiss. He
finally pulls back far enough to look her in the eyes. "I missed
you," he says
seriously. "And I don't mean the
yourself," she huffs. "I missed the sex."
"I missed the
sex too," he clarifies, "but
that's not what I'm talking about."
He growls in frustration.
"You're ruining my moment."
She tries not to
laugh, propping herself up on her
elbow. She kisses him gently on the end
of the nose. "I'm sorry," she
pulling her closer. " I missed you," he says
intensely. "Everything about
you. Talking and touching and sex."
asks, narrowing her eyes at him. “But you had Angel to keep you
company.” It’s petty and jealous and yet Padmé cannot
stop herself from uttering the words.
She needs to know the intimacy they shared is not typical for him, that
it is as sacred to him as it is to her.
“She’s not you,”
he says firmly, but he won’t meet her gaze.
She presses her
hand to his cheek and forces him to look at
moments of weakness,” he says seriously, “but
Angel is not you. Not in any way that
matters and honestly, she disturbs me deeply.”
surprised by his candor and more surprised by the
fact that she believes him.
“Angel should be
the perfect revenge,” he muses wryly. “She looks just like you
and her only desire
is to please.” He shakes his head, frowning. “But to be so
close to her and realize none
of the things that make you … you are
present is … unsettling.”
“I thought I was
nothing but a headache,” she says cattily,
turning his words from the Hapan dinner against him.
definitely a headache,” he counters, grinning
mischievously as he forces her on her back and crawls over her
“But you have a way of making up for the
trouble you put me through.”
She returns his
smile and pulls him close, pressing her lips
to his. He sighs, kissing her back.
The door to
Padmé’s bedroom hisses open and Leia charges
inside. “Mom, have you seen Dad? Lorian said he was –
Leia comes to a dead stop in the middle of
Padmé’s bedroom, her shock instantly morphing into horror.
stares at her daughter. The sheet and blankets cover Padmé
from head to toe, Leia can’t see anything.
But there is absolutely no mistaking exactly what is transpiring.
With a strangled
sound somewhere between mortification and
revulsion, Leia flees, closing the door behind her.
groans, dislodging Anakin as she rolls onto her side,
burying her face in the pillow. The bed
shakes with the force of Anakin’s laughter and she lifts her head to
“Why is it that
you can remember to lock the door to your
office, but not my bedroom?” she demands waspishly.
recover,” Anakin replies casually. “It serves her right for
barging in. She’s lucky she didn’t do it a half hour
significantly less amused than her husband. While Leia's presence
at the medcenter and
obvious concern assuaged many of Padmé's fears, she knows Leia
her as a rival for Anakin's attentions.
This certainly will not help matters.
"Maybe we should
go to my place next time," he
says. "The kids can't open those
frowns at him, secretly wondering if Anakin knows Luke
went through his personal files and that is why he decided to make sure
of the twins could access his personal quarters.
"I hate your
place," she says seriously. "It reminds me of the garage at the
pressing kisses to her neck while one of his
hands tries to find its way under the sheet to her breast. "Me
too," he says.
rolls her eyes, well remembering that the garage was
the first place she and Anakin ever made love.
"You've improved since the garage," she says, hoping to knock
him down a peg or two.
"I know," he says smugly.
She looks at
"You are an odd creature, Anakin Skywalker."
He waggles an
eyebrow at her.
supposed to be a compliment," she
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