It was agony.
Sweet, hot agony. Being this close. Being this far.
She was right there in his reach. If he could only lift his arm, his fingers could touch her, slide along her sleeve, grasp her hand, pull her to him, take those lips with his own. She’d taste sweet, like honey or nectar, calloused and yet soft hands in his hair, those eyes beaming emotion. He’d feast on the length of her neck, lips over her pulse to feel her heart beat as she writhed on him. His hands would slide up her legs, silk smooth and strong, till he was gripping her hips…
Obi-Wan shook his head, trying to center himself, to clear his mind. He shifted on his place on the couch and took deep and focused breaths.
*Live in the present. Live in the present. Live in the present…*
But no matter how many times he repeated the lesson of his padawan days, the mantra didn’t help. But he had to try. Because if he failed, if he reached and kissed her, ran his fingers through her dark hair and along her back, then all would be lost. They’d be found out and separated. And as much as they loved each other, as much as they did, they had their duties.
He was a Jedi and she was a Senator. If they were to reveal their true selves, their wants and desires to the galaxy… they’d lose everything that they’d worked so hard for. She’d lose her influence and be unable to help those she loved dear; she’d never be able to preach in the senate again; she’d be forever bared from it and wanting. All of the good that she could do for innocents throughout the galaxy would become only dreams, never reality. And he’d be stripped of the title of Jedi Master, something he’d wanted all of his life, something he’d earned through his blood and sacrifice since he was a mere child. Every friend and teacher he’d ever known would be locked away from him and his name disgraced. His beloved padawan, his Anakin, would be taken from him and given to another Jedi, someone who would surly break the boy, take his spirit and throw it away in order to make him some Jedi clone that they approved of.
If this was any normal time, some time of peace and tranquility, maybe, just maybe they could be themselves. They could slip away and live the lift that they so desired. Spend their days at their Lakeside house on Naboo. Start the family that they ached for. Be able to acknowledge their vows. But it was not a time of peace. This was a time of galactic war and they were needed here. They had friends and family to protect. And without their current titles they could do little to help those they loved. She’d watch her people suffer and she’d wilt from the agony of knowing that she could have done something to save them.
He’d sit and read the lists of the dead, finding name after name to be familiar and hating himself for not being by their side in their hour of need.
And so they stayed. They stayed and fought. They stayed even though it was slowly killing them.
Obi-Wan shifted in his seat again, mentally shaking himself and trying to concentrate on the conversation going around him. Anything not to focus on the woman before him. The lines of her, the darkness of her thick dress and the pale skin of her neck revealed by her updone hair, cascading over slim shoulders and tips brushing her cloth covered breasts….
Obi-Wan snapped away from his staring and turned to his eager padawan, his eyes confused.
Anakin smiled at him, not seeming to understand his confusion but amused nonetheless by it. The young man’s mind brushed against the older man’s, asking but not worried. Obi-Wan sent back a rush of amusement and comfort, letting his boy know that he was alright, just merely distracted.
Anakin’s eyes flashed with amusement and he let out a bark of laughter as he sent back that wave of comfort, caressing his Master’s mind like a hug from an eager child. “I said,” he grinned, “I always know what you want from Dex’s, don’t I?”
Obi-Wan smiled, relieved that it was a relatively safe question and nodded his head in acknowledgment, not trusting his voice just yet. If he spoke he’d spill everything…
“Great,” Anakin said, standing up. “So, I’ll pick up dinner for us all and then we can get to reminiscing.”
“Sounds wonderful,” Padmé agreed, smiling fondly up at the boy.
Anakin slightly blushed under her gaze and then he was heading towards the exit.
“Wait,” Padmé called out, standing up and moving over to the blonde haired man. “Could you pick up some packages for me as well,” she asked as she reached him. “I have some gifts for you from home that I forgot to pick up this morning.”
At the word “gift” Anakin grinned and Obi-Wan couldn’t help but smile at the eager look on his padawan’s face.
“Presents for me,” Anakin asked. He leaned towards her and whispered conspiratorially, “I think I can do that.”
Padmé grinned up at him, the smile easy on her face and her eyes bright. “And for your Master too,” she teased.
“Oh, him,” Anakin laughed, making a face.
“Just ask Sabé,” Padmé instructed with a smile. “She’ll give you what you need to know.”
“Will do,” he said, mock saluting to her and then continued his motions to the exit. “And don’t you dare start without me,” he chided them over his shoulder.
And then he was walking through the door and was away.
The door slid shut. The room became agonizingly hot.
Padmé turned to face him, her eyes blazing. Dark chocolate and sin. She let out the barest of sighs, her eyes already filling with tears. “Obi-Wan,” she choked out, trembling.
“Padmé,” he was finally able to whisper back, his voice shaking as much as hers.
And then she was running to him, her skirts in her hands and her hair a dark flag behind her. And all Obi-Wan could do was open his arms and surrender as she flew into his embrace. She leapt up onto him, her legs on either side of his hips and digging into the cushions beneath them, her arms winding into his shoulder length auburn hair, tears falling from her eyes and sliding down her face.
“Shh,” he soothed her, his hands wrapping around her back and pulling her even closer towards him. “Shh, love.”
She nodded her head quickly, tears still building up and falling over but she was smiling as she leaned into him and captured her lips with his.
At the light pressure of her lips on his he let out a wild moan, weeks of separation causing his control to flee without a single care. She was just as he remembered, her lips the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted. And her hands were holding him close and she was tilting her hips on his own as they kissed.
He wanted to burry himself inside of her, his arms around her, and never leave.
Only when they both became breathless, did they separate their lips. But they didn’t move far and she rested her forehead on his and sighed.
“How long are you home,” she whispered, her voice hoarse and her eyes fluttering close as if it could keep away his answer. She shook above him.
“I don’t know,” he croaked, his arms tightening around her.
Padmé let out a sob, her voice catching in her dismay, “oh force, it’s too much.”
“But it’s worth it,” he murmured back to her, his breath on her skin. “My love, my wife.”
“Yes,” she whispered, her mouth curving into a smile and her eyes opening to fix on his face. “Yes, my husband, it is worth it.”
And then her mouth was on him again. All hot and sweet and overwhelming. And begging forgiveness for her brief moment of fear and doubt. He caressed her lips with his, his hands running along her back in forgiveness that he eagerly and effortlessly gave to her.
She her hands wove deeper into his hair in relief, moving her hips along his and moaning against him. Her heart was beating fast in her chest and he felt the vibrations shake her body. He knew that his heart, so tainted by longing and sadness and stitched with wells of love, echoed her own.
And he wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Now, husband-mine,” she whispered huskily against his mouth, “we have a bit of time before your padawan returns. I say we should make the best of it.”
“I thought you’d never ask,” he laughed out, relieved that she too was burning as hotly as he was.
Padmé’s small hands tangled deeper in Obi-Wan’s hair and she thrust her hips against his in broken restraint. “Please, please, please,” she begged between hot and wet kisses. Her fingers tugged at his hair and her heart was beating furiously in anticipation.
Seeing her threads of patience shredding rapidly, mirroring his own, Obi-Wan’s hands slid down her back to the curve of her ass, fingers pressed hard at the flesh. “As if I’d deny you anything, my queen,” he murmured into her neck, fingers leaving their spot to move between them and pull at the skirts of her dress.
Padmé’s hands forced his eyes to meet hers, a wild and yet still playful look on her face. “You better not, my knight,” she growled at him.
And then she was lifting herself up from his lap to allow him to pull her skirts free and he threw them up and over her legs. She slid back a bit on his knees to allow them room to maneuver. They were panting as Padmé’s hands dove between them and began to undo the ties of his trousers. She let out a grunt of frustration as her fingers slipped on the ties and he smiled at the look of concentration on her face. She mock glared at him in return but Obi-Wan just shook his head, amused at her antics, and leaned in to kiss her.
At the feel of his mouth on hers, she melted into him, her body going slack, falling into him, the ties forgotten in her desire to kiss him. He gently reminded her by swaying his hips into her and sliding his hands along her legs encouragingly.
Determined and heated, Padmé’s hands became wild, quickly undoing the trousers with renewed determination and sliding into them in order to grasp Obi-Wan’s cock. They both moaned out at the contact, his hips jolting up into her hand and her mouth wild on his.
Padmé drew him out of his trousers and stroked the hot and erect member a few quick times, her mouth demanding on his. “I’m so wet for you,” she whispered, giving him permission as his calloused hands tightened on her milky thighs at her quick and sure strokes on him.
He gave a wild moan in anticipation and she released him, her arms wrapping around his neck to steady herself as she rose up onto her knees till she was hovering over him. His hands, roughly reached under her and pushed aside her underwear as she swayed towards him. He lined his cock, hard and hot, up to her wet opening and at the feel of his tip nudging her entrance she angled her hips towards him and pressed down.
Wild cries let both of them as did their breaths as her heat encased his cock and slid down. With a sob Padmé pressed herself down hard on him, taking him deep and fast into her.
The motion of him sliding into her was sure and powerful and overwhelming. Her arms still wrapped around his neck, she leaned into the curve and mewled as her thighs settled onto his. He shook and trembled underneath her, his hands gripping the fabric at her back, his breathe leaving him in low pants.
They stayed like that for a few moments, just basking in the feel of being home again, of having the other so close to them after such a forced separation.
And then her fingers were pressing into his shoulders and in response his hands at her back slid up to cup the back of her neck. At the motion she lifted her head and he guided her lips to his. Their lips met with a soft sigh, their eyes closing and hands soothing over fabric and skin.
Obi-Wan’s restraint grew thin and then he was gently easing his hips up into her, testing whether the time was right or not. Padmé’s answer was to moan against him and press her hips down harder. The motion had him imbedding balls deep into her and it sent them both pulling back from their kiss and crying out.
Her hands steaded themselves at his shoulders and his went back to his previous resting spot of her hips. And then he was lifting her up off of him and she used her leverage on his shoulders to aid him and with silent agreement, they both met in the middle. Their heated groans echoed around the room as he thrust up into her and she pushed herself down, only to pull away and then back together.
Their pace grew quicker, their hands grasping more desperately, mouths releasing cries and loud and drawn out groans. Their hips began to snap against each other; meeting quicker and quicker. Each motion sending them closer and closer to that result that they so desired.
She began to practically bounce on him, riding him hard and wantonly. Her hair beginning to fall from its updo at their motions, her skin heated within her clothes.
He was so deep, so deep inside of her. Oh dear force, he swore he was brushing against her womb, he was so deep inside of her. It was so much, so overwhelming.
And he knew she felt it too. Heard it in the moans that left her mouth; saw it in the way she swayed above him, her head falling back and rolling and her shoulders strained; felt it in the way she gripped her inner muscles around him as she rode him.
He showed her his own desire and love as he leaned in to kiss her neck, the way his hands ran along her revealed skin reverently, his hips thrusting up quickly into her and let her hear it in the way he moaned out his pleasure.
Rise, fall. Rise, fall.
His hands wove into her hair, trying to be mindful of the updo and pulled her face down to his. Her lips were soft against his, a contrast to the quick jab and thrust of their hips.
Her hips dove down at him as he thrust up into her, her bare thighs scraping against the rough fabric of his trousers.
She pulled back with a wild cry, her head thrown backwards and her back arching in her pleasure, still remaining anchored to him by his hands in her hair and his cock in her cunt. He knew that her toes, still encased in her heels, were curling in delight.
“So close,” she whimpered as she bounced on him, taking him in deep, her dark tresses bobbing with her motions above him.
His ability to form words left him, only grunts and groans escaping and he found that he could only pull her face down to his and desperately kiss her to show her his agreement.
“Obbbbiii-Waaaaannnnn. Gnah,” Padmé sobbed against his mouth, her hips rolling against his, seeking that last bit of friction and thrust to send her over that blissful cliff and into the abyss of sexual delight that only he could take her to.
His hands slid from her hair to grip her slim hips, fingers digging deep…
Abruptly his hands dug harshly into her cloth covered skin and he pulled her down and to a standstill on him.
Padmé let out a half delirious sob and her hands scrambled and scratched at his shoulders, urging him on, begging him to let her move, to let her pleasure come forth, to let her come.
When he whispered, it was husky and strangled and his eyes were foggy and near completely unfocused, “Someone’s coming.”
Padmé shook her head like a sulking child, her body shaking, “No I’m not—” She cut herself off as she caught sight of the growing look of alarm on his face. “Oh,” she sobbed, her voice breaking in her disappointment and her near pain at not being able to come.
Anakin had returned.
Padmé didn’t even try to hide her tears as he reluctantly and with a pained cry of his own, he lifted her up and off of him, pulling her away from his thick and hot cock.
She slid back and stood on shaky legs, not bothering to pull her underwear straight and mechanically began to smooth down her skirts in practiced movements. She quickly wiped at her wet and heated face with the sleeve of her dress, drying up the tears and sweat to hide the evidence of their lovemaking.
Obi-Wan, still sprawled on the coach, his cock leaking pre-come and jutting out of his trousers, let out an agonized sound of his own at their separation and then he too was scrambling to hide all traces of their marriage. He stood on trembling legs and with a grunt gently eased himself back into his trousers, did the fastenings and straightened his shirt. The evidence, the large bulge that tented his trousers, was telling enough though and so he had to move behind the couch, leaning on it in what he hoped was a relaxed manner.
She didn’t even have time to do more than run her fingers through her falling down hair before the door was sliding open and Anakin strode in, chatting happily, his hands full of bags and Sabé trailing behind him.
Both Obi-Wan and Padmé were still breathing heavily and hardly standing straight as Anakin waltzed up to them, seeming oblivious to their current agony.
“I’ve come to save the day with dinner,” Anakin chimed, setting two food boxes on the table and then the other bag, one filled with the small gifts and trinkets that Padmé had bought for them.
“Wonder—wonderful, Ana- Anakin,” Padmé stuttered, flushed.
At the sound of Padmé’s wobbling voice, Sabé turned her clever brown eyes toward her shaking friend and the silent but equally flushed Obi-Wan. Sabé took in their flushed faces, shaking forms, wide eyes, rumpled clothes and Padmé’s almost undone and slightly wild hair. She took it all in and her eyes widened almost comically as the realization struck her.
Anakin’s eyebrow rose in confusion and Obi-Wan took a deep breath and steadied himself as the boy opened his mouth, a question obviously on his lips.
But, praise the force, Sabé stepped in to save the lovers from Anakin’s inquisitive eyes and his questions.
“Okay, first of all,” Sabé said, her voice light and playful, despite her brown eyes darting towards the trying to recover lovers, “Padmé don’t you have to share that document with Master Kenobi so that he can give it to Jedi Council for further inspection?”
Padmé stared at her friend in momentary confusion, her mind still muddled by the presence of her husband, so close to her that her skin was hot and she could feel her wetness still growing and yet far enough away to be unable sate her passion.
In clarification, Sabé’s fingers lifted casually and brushed at her hair, perfectly done and then ran over her eyebrow and her thumb pressed to her lips momentarily, in a practiced movement. To the casual observer, it meant nothing substantial; they’d assume that the dark haired and dark eyed handmaiden was merely straightening her appearance. But to Padmé, it meant something; the Senator saw words in her motions; words that the two women had created back when Padmé was serving as Queen of Naboo.
Sabé was telling Padmé that she knew what Obi-Wan and Padmé had been doing and that she was helping her; telling her to go along with her. And then Padmé’s brown eyes, almost identical to Sabé’s eyes, lit up in understanding and she nodded her head.
“Yes,” she agreed with a smile, “I almost forgot about it. Thank you Sabé.”
“It’s no problem whatsoever, m’lady,” Sabé replied, not able to hold back a smile at Padmé’s relieved tone. The brown haired handmaiden and bodyguard turned to Anakin and continued on in her play. “And second, you Anakin, have forgotten of my favorite desert, I’m sure of it.”
Anakin’s face instantly heated and he looked down at his boots with a blush. “Sorry,” he mumbled.
“As you always do,” the cunning woman replied with a smirk, her hand reaching for his arm. Once she reached him, her arm looped into the curve of his and she began to steer him towards the door. “If I didn’t know that you liked me so, I’d think you did it on purpose,” she mock chided him, “just to hurt me.”
“You know that isn’t so,” Anakin quickly said as he was lead to the door, “you’re one of my best friends.”
“Of course I am, Ani,” she laughed. She stopped by the door to give the two lovers a wink as she spoke seemingly without a care, “We’ll be back. With desert.” She shot Anakin a smirk and then turned back to the Jedi and the Senator, “Have fun with those documents. Don’t do anything that I wouldn’t do.”
“Which is like nothing,” Anakin laughed good-naturally as he tugged at her arm and began to lead her out the door.
“Exactly,” Sabé chirped back, practically skipping out the door, her arm laced with the young Palawan’s.
The door slid shut once again.
And once again, Padmé was quickly moving. She grabbed Obi-Wan’s hand and pulled him towards her office, her dress gathered in her free hand so that she could practically run there.
Obi-Wan, dragged behind her, let out a huff of annoyance, “what’s so important about stupid documents?”
Padmé rolled her eyes, knowing that the Jedi Master was pouting, thinking that he was being pushed aside once again for a senatorial document of some sort.
She practically shoved him into the office when they reached it, closing and locking the door in seconds.
“There is no document,” she said breathlessly, her hands already reaching for the skirts of her dress and pulling them up to her knees. “There’s just you and me.”
A bright smile wiped the pout off of Obi-Wan’s face and then he was laughing in relief. “Oh, thank the force,” he said, “If I had to actually concentrate on some—”
But he didn’t get to finish as Padmé leaned her back against the door and tugged her heavy skirts up to her waist and interrupted him, her voice low and husky, “Obi-Wan, I need you inside of me.”
And with that declaration, the Jedi Master was undone. He rushed over to her, his eyes returning back to their lusty silver in his passion.
The moment his body touched hers they became livewires. He grabbed her legs and yanked her up, her feet lifting off the floor and trusting him she let him pull her to where he wanted her and slam her back further into the door, her legs entwining around his waist. A soft grunt left her at the motion of her back against the hard door but she didn’t slow down, her hands releasing her skirts and letting them flutter around them and reaching for the ties of his trousers once again.
Her agile fingers undid the trousers and then she was pulling his cock, so hard and hot and leaking pre-come from their earlier activities, out and rubbing him against the soft folds of her entrance.
His name was pulled from her lips with a breathless sound as his eyes met hers and he slid into her heat and home, where he belonged, inside of her; not off fighting some war, not being forced to make impossible decisions, and not having to watch his Jedi brothers and sisters being slaughtered before his very eyes. He was just here, inside of her and in those moments, all that mattered were the two of them, the rest of the galaxy could be burning for all she cared.
And by the way that he bit his bottom lip, trying to hold back his fingers tightening on her thighs, probably leaving light and small marks on her pale flesh, how his breath left him in small little pants, let her know that he felt he same way. Let her know that this was everything to him.
He kissed he softly and reverently, showing her through the tender kiss that she was something that he’d fight for till he had not a breath in his body.
And that was not a sentiment, a whispered but easily broken promise. Ever since that first day they’d met, all of those years ago on Naboo, him a Jedi padawan on the brink of becoming a Master and her a young Queen in disguise as a handmaiden, she’d known that he’d lay his life down for her. Eagerly.
And now that eagerness was shown in a different but still so wonderful and delightful way.
Needing more of his touch, his arms around her tighter, his body deeper in her own, she pressed a kiss light and soft against his neck and whispered against his skin, “Obi-Wan.”
Those calloused hands reached up cup her flushed cheeks and turn her face to his, and those ocean eyes looked deep into her, seeing everything that she was and wanted to be laid out bare to him. Those eyes saw her sadness and her fear, her pain and her want, her love and her desires, and it reflected it back at her.
And then he began to move.
She shuddered and cried out as he was sent deeper into her. Her head fell back and into the door, her dark curls spilled around her shoulders, her legs tightened around his waist and her heels pressed at the back of his legs, all working to urge him on, to delight him.
Obi-Wan Kenobi had never seen a more beautiful sight than His Queen, her face flushed and her writhing with him. It was an image he’d keep with him for all of his life, however long that would be.
He leaned further into her, using his body to press her further into the door behind her back, and to thrust his hips into hers beneath her skirts.
Her cry sent him shaking and pulled an answering groan from his own lips.
And then they were moving together. Her weight was pulling down on him, her hips settled down on his and drawing him in deep while he leaned into her in quick thrusts, sending her up with each motion, her back sliding against the hard surface of the door.
Her fingers dug into his strong shoulders and his own hands held onto her thighs around his waist, helping her move on and with him.
The heat grew in intensity, her thighs gripping around his hips hard, and his fingers digging into her skin. Pulling and setting. Thrusting and sliding.
Her inner heat grew, and his own pulsed.
Their lips met for a quick and wet kiss, one that had them breathless and throwing their faces away to gasp in mush needed oxygen.
The fire was stroked hotter, the warmth of their skin and the sweat and the smell of their skin and the heat, oh the almost unbearable heat… oh it was almost too much.
Her back arched against the door and his upward thrust was quick and hard and then as she fell back onto him, taking him in deep inside of her, they were both falling into the embracing arms of the warmth.
He buried his face in her neck, crying out softly into her soft flesh, while jets of his come shot into her and she let out a loud shout of her own pleasure as she went off, coming hard and long.
Her arms gripped him; her legs pulled him to her, her inner warmth held him.
It took them a few moments after their orgasms to find their strength to do anything but breathe and hold each other and when their awareness came back to them it was to find her heat still around him and part of the warmth of his release sliding wet down her inner thighs.
Almost deafened by her release, she could only read his lips, seeing them form her name and she replied with his own name, her voice a whisper that his heart heard.
Obi-Wan placed a light kiss on her forehead, his lips curled into a small smile that despite its smallness spoke volumes. Padmé hummed in appreciation and leaned into him, nuzzling his face till her lips found his.
“I love you,” she murmured.
His whisper was so awed, even after being married to her for a year and a half, “I love you, too.”
With a mutual sigh they pulled back and he away from inside of her and he helped her to stand on her shaking feet.
“Those documents were quite informative,” he smirked at her as they both began to pull and straighten their clothes.
Padmé could only shake her head at him and straighten her hair. She pressed her skirts down and adjusted her collar. She took deep breathes to calm herself and wiped at the sweat on her revealed skin with the edge of her sleeve.
When she turned her eyes to her husband, he was standing straight and looking like the polished Jedi that everyone thought him to be; every bit of clothing in place and no visible evidence of their love seen on him except for the shine in his eyes.
Her eyes closed briefly in pain at the realization that they were once again, not beloved husband and wife, but now just Jedi Master and Senator.
Obi-Wan’s hand was tender on her skin as he tilted her face to look up at him and his words were understanding, soothing and soft, “don’t fret, My Queen, everything will be alright.”
Padmé smiled at the words, his conviction in them palpable. She kissed him softly in thank you and replied, “Of course, My Knight. Of course.”
And here, with his hands on her face, his presence and scent intoxicating her, his essence lingering in her, and unknowing to them both, creating life out of their union, she felt at peace.
Her husband, her knight, her Obi-Wan was safe and here with her and so all would be alright.
In the background, the sounds of Anakin and Sabé’s return reached their ears. But they were smiling as they exited her office, warmed by their lovemaking and the knowledge that they had each other.
It didn’t matter what others thought, as long as they themselves knew the truth; the truth of their vows.
It might be agony to be so close to each other and have to hide their feelings and having to take small stolen moments in hidden corners but that agony was worth it.
This agony might be intense, but it was delicious all the same.