Padme opened her eyes slowly, exhaling as the brought herself back to the present. The sun had moved far in its arc across the sky, to the far side of the Temple. Musty afternoon light cast shadows across Anakin's old room – until the situation was resolved, she and Anakin were all but quarantined in the Temple and it had seemed simpler to move into Obi-Wan's apartment. He'd never quite gotten around to sorting through Anakin's things or applying for individual quarters and, since Ahsoka had left the Order, Anakin had spent more and more time sleeping there regardless.
She eyed the flimsiplast racing poster on the wall across from her, twisting side to side as she stretched her arms over head. Technically, of course, they were Obi-Wan's arms, and though he was very fit, sitting so long in this position had knotted up her muscles.
Meditation, she decided, was not her forte. She'd done similar exercises as a girl, clearing her mind to relax, though on Naboo she often relied more on her surroundings than on herself. It was easier to gather herself together when she could retreat to the beauty of the gardens, either near her parents' house or within the palace walls. Merely trying to focus on her inner balance alone was proving very difficult. She could venture out to the Room of a Thousand Fountains, she supposed, but she didn't quite feel comfortable strutting around as Obi-Wan, even if she was certain the Jedi could feel the difference.
So she attempted to feel the Force in Anakin's room, familiar in all the ways he had become to her, and yet foreign. It was odd to think they'd been married for three years and she only had reason to sleep in his bed now that it was no longer his because a very strange Bardottan Force device had seen fit to knock the three of them sideways into each others' bodies, like children swapped chairs in a party game.
Obi-Wan was, in many ways, the worst affected, but as a Council member he was expected to carry on with his duties. Between grimaces, complaining of how profoundly loud everything in the Force was now, he'd attempted to show Padme how to use the Force, leaving behind a meditative guide in the Force. It amounted to a wisp of energy, tangible enough that even she could feel where it was, yet evanescent enough that it would last only for this attempt. It was meant to lead her into herself rather than toward the bond between Anakin and Obi-Wan, still rooted deeply in the Force for all that Anakin was cut off from it.
She felt like she was on the cusp of something profound, held back by the limitations of her own identity. She could occupy the body of a Jedi, but that didn't make her one, any more than Anakin was a woman for being in her body.
And she'd almost had it. She'd felt something, that was clear, though she didn't really know what it was. But it had felt warm and pleasant, a hum like the subdued words of millions of being in her ears. She just couldn't quite distinguish anything more than that. She was in the Jedi Temple, but she might as well have been on Naboo's barren third moon for all that she could pick out the individuals nearby.
A crash came from the kitchen, followed by a string of Huttese curses.
Padme bit her lip to prevent a smile. She hoped she improved soon – that particular Jedi was one she'd really like to get to know in the Force.
She unfolded her legs and rolled easily to her feet. Getting the knack of how to move in Obi-Wan's body hadn't been particularly difficult, though any time she caught sight of herself in the mirror, she could still see that, somehow, she was doing it wrong. But her gait was functional enough, smooth and graceful as it carried her from Obi-Wan's room into the shared common area.
Padme found Anakin in the kitchen, arm stretched up and knee on the counter as he tried to reach something on one of the high shelves.
It seemed that his version of packing hadn't been quite as haphazard as Padme originally thought. Somehow, he'd tracked down every matching black item in her wardrobe. She wouldn't have put together the ensemble he was wearing, but she had to admit it actually worked. Anakin had dug a pair of tight, low slung pants out of the back of Padme's closet, pairing them with flat boots and one of the tops Padme wore for athletics – cropped, but supportive. He'd pulled his hair into a sloppy braid and stray locks escaped to fall into his eyes, making him scowl as he strained.
Padme laughed aloud.
"Do you need help?" she asked.
Anakin's shoulders slumped and he slid off the counter, frustration on his face as he looked up at her. Padme caught her breath. She'd honestly think she had a narcissistic streak – but for the fact that there was absolutely no mistaking Anakin for her. The flash of anger in his eyes, the tensed muscles and barely leashed power. She'd thought it was his body, his height and his connection to the Force, but apparently it was simply who Anakin was. He was fierce in everything he did, ready to reshape the world even if it fought him.
"Yes," he gritted out. His hands flexed at his side as he attempted to suppress his feelings. "I was trying to get the kettle down."
Padme stepped around him and reached up, going onto her toes unnecessarily to bring down a cheap, metal kettle that had seen better days.
"Obi-Wan would use the Force," Anakin said.
Padme gave him a mild look. She didn't know what to make of that tone, or the look on his face. His eyes were dark but fixed on her, watching her every movement.
"I'm not Obi-Wan," she reminded him. "And I don't think I'll levitate kettles any time soon."
She paused, thinking.
"Do you put the kettle on the high shelf just to mess with him?"
Anakin's focused look disappeared, replaced by a sly, not-at-all innocent look. Padme hoped that she managed to look more discreet when she was up to something. He shrugged a shoulder, glancing away from her, tapping his fingernails on the counter with studied indifference.
"Master Obi-Wan says it's important that we never use the Force for frivolous things. I just like finding out exactly which things are actually vital. So that I don't have to decide if I really should be doing it, or not."
Which was to say that he loved making Obi-Wan into a hypocrite and probably kept a list somewhere of all the instances when he'd gotten Obi-Wan to violate that particular dictum.
Anakin glanced back at her through half lidded eyes.
"He doesn't stretch for it the way you do."
Padme took a step closer to him and Anakin hopped up onto the counter, immediately making him the taller one. She placed her hands down, boxing him in and he spread his legs to let her move between them, catching his breath as he stared at her.
"I didn't ever watch him. But," Anakin's eyes searched her face, breath coming faster now. Padme ran her fingers over the bare skin of Anakin's back and he shuddered. "But I watch you. You look so good, Padme."
Padme lifted her hand to Anakin's face as he nuzzled into the touch, kissing her fingertips. Except they weren't hers, they were Obi-Wan's. She'd felt the calluses on them – the pads of his fingers and in two thick lines across the palms, earned through years of lightsaber training. Anakin was as thrilled as she was by the strangeness of it, Obi-Wan's rough hands on Padme's fine skin.
She cupped Anakin's face, holding him for a kiss, beard rasping Anakin's face as she opened her mouth against his.
It'd itched this morning, foreign and unwelcome, and it was only out of deference to Obi-Wan that she hadn't shaved it off immediately. He'd said earlier that, as they didn't know how long this would last, shyness about their bodies was simply absurd and that she had all permission to treat his body as her own for the interim – with more than one significant glance her way. The only caveat was that he asked she not do anything "too extreme" and since Anakin had shown no predilection toward that kind of activity, Padme had felt comfortable pretending that she didn't know what he meant.
The beard felt entirely different now. Everything did, her hands and the straight line of her back and the shoulders Anakin dug his fingers into as they kissed. Anakin moaned low in his throat – a sound Padme couldn't make for the life of her and it went straight to her cock. She shoved her hips against Anakin and he laughed breathlessly, shifting closer to press against Padme's erection.
"Have you ever done this before?" he asked, eyes wide.
Padme tried not to laugh, toying instead with the seam of Anakin's top.
"You know what I mean," he insisted. "Have you ever had sex with a woman?"
Anakin didn't typically like to hear about her previous lovers. On Naboo, it'd been a bit of a game, riling him up with talk of how handsome this man or that had been, dishing out answers he didn't want to hear even though he was the one asking. But somewhere between that picnic and their wedding, it had stopped being funny to hassle him about his inexperience. Far better to use her own experience, teaching him what she liked and helping him discover the many wonderfully enjoyable things they could do together.
"Have you ever had sex with a man?" she asked in return.
He shook his head solemnly; she already knew that.
"I have slept with a woman," she admitted. She skimmed her mouth over Anakin's, brushing past his jaw to kiss his ear. "Senator Tula."
Anakin jerked back from her in surprise.
"She's in the opposition."
"I've met her! You hate her!" His expression quickly turned pensive. "Did she do something to you? Because I will –"
Padme held fast to Anakin, reveling in just how easy it was to restrain him now that she had so much more weight and muscle than him. He didn't struggle much, but he'd gone tense, face lined with anger at Tula's imagined crimes.
"She didn't do anything to me, Anakin. We've never gotten along. It made things … interesting, for a while. But that was also why it didn't work out."
It was clear from his expression that Anakin had absolutely no idea how or why she could have ended up in bed with someone she loathed, but Padme had no intention of explaining it. She could, however, demonstrate some of what she'd learned.
Padme slid her hand up Anakin's thigh, thumb following the inseam upward. She had to wonder if it was the same – it was her body, but it was Anakin in it. Would he like the same things she did? She rubbed Anakin through the leather and he bit his lip, cheeks flushed.
"I don't think you need to wear these, do you?" she asked softly.
"Do you know how hard it was to get them on?" Anakin replied. Padme frowned. All of her clothes fit, thank you, and even if Anakin was accustomed to less form fitting apparel, it didn't mean any of hers needed to be adjusted. He caught her eyes, voice husky as he explained, "I was looking in the mirror when I was getting dressed, touching your body. I think I ruined your underclothes. I just kept getting so wet."
Padme shut her eyes, trying to steady herself. Her cock throbbed and she reached down, pressing her hand against it, but she just ended up stroking herself through the loose pants. She dropped he hand, making a fist against her thigh and reaching for Anakin, kissing him aggressively.
"Don't say those things or I'll come right now," she said against his mouth, fluttering her eyes back open.
Anakin smiled and groped her ass, pulling her closer.
"Wouldn't want that," he said.
"What did you do?" Padme asked. She unbuckled Anakin's belt and slid it off, letting his lightsaber pull it to the floor. She unfastened the trousers, pushing them half off Anakin's hip, and worked her hand inside. They were tight enough that she could only just barely touch him. Anakin groaned and pushed against her. "Tell me what you did."
Anakin ran his fingers up her neck, tracing her jaw.
"I got on the bed and angled the mirror," he whispered.
Padme swallowed hard at the image.
"I wish I was in you," Padme said. Anakin laughed and said something quick, agreeing, but she shook her head. "I wish I was in your body, that I knew how it felt for you."
It wasn't at all fair, Obi-Wan ending up in Anakin's body. All he was getting out of this was a headache and a few more inches of height. Padme felt a twist of jealousy in the pit of her stomach. Being in Anakin's body, touching him with his own hands – feeling him come apart under them. She'd understand him, she was sure of it. They'd finally bridge that last gap between the two of them.
Anakin drew his head back meeting Padme's eyes.
"I wish I had the Force right now. It's so –" he broke off, jaw flexing and eyes bright. "It's so cold and lonely, Padme. I can't feel anything. Please, I just, I need you."
Padme nodded and they scrambled apart, Anakin hopping down from the counter and stretching to pull off his trousers. Padme stared, absolutely sure she did not look like that when she moved, all sinuous grace and danger. She removed her Jedi vestments with sure hands that were somehow shaking anyway, hissing with relief when she finally got the pants off. They hadn't been tight by any means, but it was just so satisfying to be free of them, her hard dick in her hands. It felt shockingly good and she moved her hand up and down its length, surprised at how amazing the friction of her calluses was. She caught her breath, concentrating as she worked her cock.
Anakin struggled a little to unwrap his top, frowning and biting his lip as he fumbled to find the edge of the fabric. He lit up with a brilliant smile as he worked it out, happily groping his breasts as he looked down.
"Just look at the two of us," Padme said with a grin and Anakin flash a confused look at her, only to have his gaze drawn down to the sure stroke of her hand on her dick and he let out a crack of laughter.
"I think we're better together, don't you?" he asked.
Anakin pushed himself back up on the counter, legs spread unselfconsciously. Padme stepped into his arms and they both shivered as she entered him. Anakin pushed his face into her shoulder, hands clutching at her back as he wrapped his legs around her waist.
It felt – Padme struggled to breathe, hands braced on the counter. She grimaced as she concentrated on holding her back. It was almost too good, wet and tight and all Anakin, around her.
"I wish I could feel you," Anakin said into her skin. His voice was broken and strained, fingernails starting to dig in painfully. "I miss you so much, Padme."
Padme reached up to pet Anakin's hair. She wished she could be that for Anakin, connect with him in the Force, but she just didn't know how. She could barely feel the Force when she was centered. Buried in Anakin, struggling not to just pin him down and fuck him as hard as she wanted, she could barely focus enough to think.
"I'm still here, Ani," Padme said back after a long moment. She began to move in him, breath stuttering at the sensation. She held to Anakin's hip as she picked up the pace. "I love you."
Anakin arched his neck, eyes cracking open. There was a desperate, searching look on his face as he watched her.
"Say that again."
Padme furrowed her brow but she was past trying to figure things out. She just wanted him, want to feel him come around her, needed to feel him. She panted as she thrust into Anakin, eyes fixed on his.
"I love you."
Anakin quivered as he came, eyes never leaving hers. There was something a little wild about his expression, a little off – and then Padme realized why he needed to look at her.
Padme's words and Obi-Wan's face.
He threaded his hand in her hair, pulling her in for a brief, breathy kiss.
"Come for me," he said. "Please, Padme, come inside me."
It was enough. She jerked, thrusting into him and coming hard. Anakin's small hands were careful on her, stroking up and down her sides as they separated. They held each other for a long moment; Padme expressly enjoyed being able to wrap her arms around Anakin, tuck him in close. He kissed her neck and her collarbone, pulling back slightly to try to catch her eye.
That odd light had left his eyes. He looked relaxed, the same cocky grin that was so familiar to her pulling at his lips. Which was rich, because she'd certainly done all the work this time. In any case, they would most definitely be having a talk later. Possibly once Obi-Wan was back from his Council meeting.
"You have a look on your face," Anakin put in idly. He yawned and looked about ready to just curl up on the counter. He waved his hand at her. "That look. You're thinking about consequences."
Padme cocked her head at him.
"I thought you didn't have the Force."
"You're thinking about Obi-Wan," Anakin replied.
"He's not going to enjoy finding you there."
"Or you," Anakin agreed.
Padme helped him to clean up – a slow process that involved a lot of pausing to just touch each other – and he helped her with the complicated folds of Jedi robes, fussing until she looked like an approximation of Obi-Wan. Padme bent to retrieve Anakin's clothes, only for him to wave her off.
"I'm going to get a shower."
Padme frowned. If he'd said that before she got dressed again, she would have been entirely happy to join him.
Still entirely naked, Anakin walked out of the kitchen in front of her. Padme tilted her head to watch – and alright, maybe she was a bit of a narcissist. She followed him out and then stopped with a yelp, dropping Anakin's clothes to the floor.
Obi-Wan dropped his hand from his forehead.
"I don't know what I expected," he said honestly. His eyes flicked over Anakin. "Put some clothes on."
Anakin squared his shoulders and made no move to cover his breasts.
"No." He turned to look at Padme and gestured to Obi-Wan. "Do I really look like that?"
He made it sound like a bad thing. Padme looked again at Obi-Wan – for all that he was distinctly Obi-Wan, it wasn't like it made Anakin any less handsome. He somehow made Anakin seem far more sensible just with his posture. He looked confident, but without brashness or arrogance that so often defined Anakin. He pursed his lips, arms folded across his chest in disapproval.
Anakin's face contorted in disgust and he huffed aloud.
He turned on his heel and made for the fresher, short stride made up for by the force of his feet stomping on the apartment floor.
Padme supposed that was just one more thing the three of them had to talk about.