Note:

Posted on AO3 much earlier.

Warning: Dark AU ahead. Very dark. Very, very dark. Also PWP. Very dark and very sexual. It's erotica, after all. Take this as a hard warning!

Backstory: Padme was once the secret apprentice to Emperor Palpatine. She was raised by the old man in a cruel, torturous environment devoid of love and fun. She was gifted with the Force, and as she grew older she essentially became Palpatine's little enforcer. One day he tasked her with getting close to a certain up and rising senator from Tatooine who was causing him trouble. Get close to him, learn his secrets, and report back to the Emperor was her job. Falling 'in love' wasn't. But she did, and when her Master gave the word to end the senator's life Padme could not. Instead she beheaded the Emperor and took her place on his throne. Gone was the facade she maintained to ease herself into Anakin's inner circle. Now she showed her true nature to Anakin. Now that she was Empress. Now that the universe was at her feet... There you go. You are all caught up. Now on this the story!

Also, the title is inspired by a song called Desire by Meg Myers.

The physician's hands were trembling as he dipped them into a bowl of lukewarm water. Absolutely no one could blame the man for his trepidation. There were none who wanted to be the bearer of bad news to the face of the Empress.

To any other woman, this would have been a joyous occasion. But Padme was hardly any other woman. The situation was made even more impossible by how volatile and unpredictable she could be at times. No one had any idea as to how she was going to react to this news. That is why his assistants had fled, leaving him alone in the royal infirmary with its grand arched ceilings and tall, barren walls that threw back every word as soon as it was uttered.

The physician took a deep breath and squared his shoulders, straightening his crooked back. It was a display of great courage, coming from such a timid man.

He turned and walked back towards the table where the Empress was sitting. She was the type who could turn a rumpled bedspread into a throne, and she made a physician's table look like an altar for a goddess of war. Her harsh brown eyes were as hard as steel and they drilled their way through his skull as he approached. The physician tried not to flinch.

"Empress," he said, trying to keep his tone as cool as her gaze. "It is good news after all."

"What is it?" her tone was clipped, impatient. He had idled far too long for her taste.

The physician took a deep breath and clasped his hands together in front of him. "My Empress, you are with child." Even as he spoke, there was a tremor of fear that made his hands quake as he clenched them. He could feel a bead of sweat dripping down the back of his neck and hoped that it was only noticeable to him.

Rationally, he knew he had no real reason to fear her. On the other hand, she was close to a full table of very sharp tools – and he was within firing range.

Her gaze was locked on his. She set her hand on her stomach and furrowed her brow a just a little, as if she didn't quite digest the entirety of what he had said. "Are you sure?"

It was such an odd question. He bit back his usual sarcasm. Yes, he was sure. He wasn't going to risk life and limb over a practical joke.

"Yes, your majesty." He told her, nodding his head in affirmation. "I am positive. I could run additional tests if you like, however…"

"That will not be necessary." She interrupted him. Her brow cleared as she slid off the table, landing on dainty feet that were the envy of every woman for miles.

"Thank you." She nodded to him and swept imperiously from the room. Once she reached the door, her maidens swooped in like so many birds, falling into place behind her. Her personal guards fell in behind the maidens, and then entire entourage vanished down the hall.

The physician collapsed into his chair with relief, mopping his brow with a handkerchief.

A child.

Padme had retreated to her room. She had not broken her pace as she made her way down the hall and vanished into her bedchamber, locking out her maids and her guards in one fell swoop. They had mewed like kittens in protest, but she was more than capable of handling herself, and she disliked having them around. She always had.

She needed time to herself. To think.

The child itself, she supposed, did not bother her. She didn't seem to feel one way or the other about it. There was certainly no joy, nothing that brought a pink flush to her cheeks or a giddy smile to her lips. Children were all well and good, but she had never given much thought as to whether or not she would bother having one. From what she understood – they were largely a nuisance, but they were easily passed off to someone until they were of a more manageable age. There was no apprehension, either. There was nothing that made her stomach twist with dread. If anything, there was cool indifference.

After all, she supposed that it was inevitable. If she could feel anything warmer than apathy, it was a mild sense of approval. After all, a child meant many things. She was going to have an heir. An heir bearing her name was someone she could hand the legacy down to. The power would never have to leave her bloodline – and if fate was willing, it would be a strong child.

It has been a long time since she entertained the idea, but now she had it in her hands. A descendant. There was something very satisfying about that – and she believed that as the reigning Empress, overthrower of the old Empire, she had empowered herself to create an heir without the aid of some simpering noble aspiring to be king.

Of course there would have to be an announcement. But before that…

Padme glanced at the narrow door that led out of her chamber, but did not empty out back into the hall. Instead it led to a series of passages – created by the first Emperor many years ago, she utilized them occasionally when she wished to move about in secret.

She wanted to tell Anakin. But she didn't want an entourage attached to her hip when she went. Their relationship thus far had been conducted in a low, underhanded fashion. While it long been made public by now, the very nature of their 'romance' was corrupt. It was dirty, it was shameful, and it certainly did not warrant an armed escort.

She was very capable of taking care of herself. As powerful as she was, some people seemed to forget that. Of course, having the guards around most of the time did well to pad the image of power. And they were excellent for swatting away the riff-raff who tried to gather around her like flies when they went out in public.

Padme lingered on her bed for a only a moment or two more before sliding off the edge and heading towards the small door. It was locked, and the only key was hidden in a small slot located somewhere in the frame. She found it quickly and unlocked the door, opening it up.

The room where Anakin now lived was known by only a privilege few – herself, and those who brought him meals. She had only entrusted one or two servants with the task, and both of them she had deafened before allowing them to serve. Anakin had a silver tongue. He had been very savvy as politician, and he was a likable sort of person – enough so that even she had fallen for his wiles. She was not going to risk him attempting to coax a servant into setting him free. That task would have been impossible – the door was sealed with her Force powers and the residence itself was maze. But why would she chance it? She would have to execute anyone who tried and, honestly, it was more of a pain to replace the servants.

The passageway emptied out into a hall. She sealed the entrance behind her and walked only a few more steps before she found herself standing in front of Anakin's room.

She smiled faintly, feeling perhaps the smallest bit of excitement as she placed her hand against the door. The heavy wood and strong metal warped underneath her touch, and her Force ability was the key as she pushed her way through the entrance – the steel making horrible sucking sounds as she passed through it. She came out on the other side, and she heard the door right itself behind her – sealing up as it took back on its true solid form.

Anakin was watching; her entrances never fazed him anymore. The first few times she had been able to startle him – but he had been 'caged', as he put it, for three months now.

"Empress." He said through his teeth. He was not using the formality out of respect. He spoke her title with such unabated scorn. He did not seem to care whether or not he angered her. In his opinion, she was a murder and a tyrant of the worst variety.

"Oh, so you have decided to come today?" he asked, crossing his legs in an agitated manner. It was clear that he was in a very irritable mood. "Not yesterday or the day before – I actually cannot recall when you last decided to grace me with your magnificent presence."

"Nearly two weeks." She said, taking hold of a chair and dropping down into the overstuffed seat, swinging her legs over one of the thick arms. "You look well."

It hurt a bit to see him here; but she did not know exactly why. It was necessary. She had to break him, wear him down…he had to be entirely hers. Part of being Empress was being able to recognize her own weaknesses. And while she did not have many, he was definitely amongst them. There was something about him – his existence was a dark and tender bruise. It was the only soft spot she had, but any sort of prodding made it ache.

He couldn't look her in the eye. That alone was enough to drive her crazy. She considered it a cowardly thing, and part of what she admired about him was his strength. She wanted to tear it down, but she appreciated it nonetheless.

"Are you finished?" she asked, keeping her voice level. "If so, I have something to tell you."

"What is it?" he sounded weary, but he was also not about to turn away the first human interaction he had been granted in over two weeks. The servants were deaf – they could not speak to him, they could not do anything more than slide his plate underneath the door three times a day and take them all away again in the mornings. She was purposely keeping him just before the brink of hunger and starvation. He had just enough water to keep his throat wet. The sooner he gave in to her, the sooner he would be given back the small things that allowed him to feel human – and not like some trapped sideshow attraction.

She opened her mouth to make her announcement, but the words caught in her throat. She couldn't bring herself to cough them up, and he was staring at her. Anguish was written on his face. Anguish and anger…pain and loneliness. He despised her. It was clear. He hated everything she stood for. He was also in no position to refuse her – he was a caged animal, her slave.

She wanted more than that, as much as she was loathe to admit it. She wanted more from him than just his obedience. She wanted his love. She wanted his knew he was capable of it. She had seen it flickering in his eyes once before. She wanted his easy smile back…

She hated herself for this line of thought. It was nothing but weakness. If nothing else, Padme absolutely refused to let herself be weak.

Thankfully, she knew how to put the control back in her hands.

She pulled her legs around, slipping them away from the arm of the chair.

"Tell me, Anakin." She tilted her head, taking on a completely different tone. "What do you do all day in here, without me to keep you company?"

"Nothing." He was immediately apprehensive, not liking the sudden change. "I stare at the ceiling and I don't think of anything. It is dangerous to think, even in here."

She pushed out her lips into a pretend pout, an expression which he found did not suit her at all. "That is so dismal." She got close to him, keeping only an inch or so of space between their bodies. He swallowed hard and looked down at her, taking in everything. As terrible as she was, he would have been hard-pressed to call her anything but beautiful. Today her soft brown hair was free of all binding, glossy and spectacular. It was pulled around the side of her neck, spilling towards the gentle curve of her shoulder – the collarbone exposed by the scoop neck of shirt. She was so easy to worship, this petite woman who carried the wrath of a god buried in her core. Her height was deceptive, giving her the appearance of one who was fragile and gentle. She was neither of those things, of course. She was a vicious, manipulative woman who let nothing stand in her way. She always got what she wanted. And she wanted him.

She had him, but not in the way she wanted. He refused to give in to her. He refused to play her sick games and let her keep him prisoner. It was enough that she had his heart and tortured it so, he wasn't going to let her have his body as well…more so than he had already given. Of all the mistakes he had made, she was the worst. He hated that he had fallen for her, but now that he had given himself he didn't know how to take it all back.

He wasn't sure he believed she was even human anymore. Perhaps she was entirely wheels and gears, nothing but cogs in her head mechanically churning out every calculated move. She couldn't be capable of emotion. If she had any form of compassion or feeling she would not have locked him away like this.

His humanity was being stripped away, and she expected him to behave like a lover. He could not recall entire sentences in books he had read, much less compromise a sonnet.

"You can relax," she said calmly, the words slipping from between her lips as deceptively sweet as her face. "I don't want to hurt you." She touched the middle of his chest, her hand sliding down his shirt. It was stained by now, and a bit looser than it had been before. He had lost some weight since his imprisonment, though he had maintained his athletic form. "I want to make you feel good." She looked up at him. "You know what it feels like…"

Her hand fell between his legs and she cupped his groin in her hands, squeezing. He jumped like he had been zapped by electricity and turned away from her, his heart pounding.

"No," he said, unable to think of a better refusal. He grabbed her hand and pushed it away from him. "I…no. I can't."

"But you do," her hand found its way back easily and she started rubbing again, making sure that she applied enough pressure to get him thinking. "You remember what it is like to have me, to have me on top of you, riding you…don't you ever think about that?" her voice dropped to a seductive whisper.

"I know you do. I'm sure you sit here and you keep your hand under the covers, wrapped around your member as you shamefully stroke yourself to the thought of me. As much as you say you loathe me, you must admit that you rarely think of anyone else…you certainly don't desire anyone else…"

"Stop!" he was all but pleading, but his voice had a hard edge. He grabbed her hand again, shoving it back, his fingers intertwining with hers as if that was the only way to get her to keep her hands off him. "Stop, I just…I can't. No. Go, now, please."

Her eyes flashed. She set her lips in a thin line and grabbed him between his legs again, squeezing his groin between her iron fingers until he winced in pain.

"Do you think you can refuse me?" she said through her teeth, her voice barely above a scathing whisper. "Do you think that you can deny an Empress ?"

"No," he shook his head. His brain felt fuzzy. This wasn't going how he wanted it to at all. He had gone from being irritable to begrudgingly accepting of her company, and now he just wanted her to leave.

He couldn't do this. Not again. She was too much.

He had fallen in love with the potential. It was what felt now like a brief hallucination, or a glimpse of a shell with no real substance underneath. Had it all been pretense? Did everything about her that he loved only exist so far as he had willed it? Or maybe he had only fallen in love with the idea of her that he had formed in his own mind. But this version he found repulsive. The day she killed the Emperor, the day he had seen her true colors, he had felt nothing but disgust and betrayal. He could not forgive her, and he could not bed her.

"Do you think you are special?" she let out a harsh laugh. "Because I assure you that you would be quite mistaken in that assumption."

"I…" he couldn't even defend himself properly. She kept cutting him off at every turn.

"Just because you are still alive, just because I did not kill you when it would have suited me to do so, does not grant you some form of privilege to act as my equal. You are at best my prisoner,and you are subject to my will as everyone else. And my will is to be obeyed. You have seen the dire consequences of insubordination."

"Insubordination?" his temper flared. He advanced, closing the gap between him. But he failed to intimidate her with his height. She gazed at him, unflinching. He hated those passionless eyes. "I have not made a motion against you. I will not bend to your will because you demand surrender of my autonomy. You claim you wish to have me as your lover, but all you want is a slave. You want the trappings of me – the looks, the intelligence, but you don't actually want me."

"I want what I want," she flashed back, her voice holding all of the heat that her eyes refused to convey. "And I will have it, one way or another." She pressed her hands against his chest, shoving him back a pace – using her ability to propel him in addition to her own strength. "No one's head is higher than the Empress's. Kneel before I have it removed."

"I would welcome a quick death over the slow suffocation you have condemned me to." He growled. "Or is it your intention that if I do not give in, you will use the Force to dissolve my mind? Would you reduce me to nothing more than a toy?"

"I would have you do all of those things, with your mind in your pretty little head." She snarled. She pushed against his chest again, and he nearly fell backwards. "Kneel."

He rocked on his heels, but managed to plant his feet solidly against the ground. "Do what you will to me," he said. "But you are not masking the truth from either of us. I am not special, but I know that you love me in your own twisted way. There is some piece of you, buried inside your warped, bitter soul that makes you care for me."

Her lips twisted into a mocking smile. It was her automatic response. She would never admit that there was even a grain of truth in his words. It was so much easier to play the villain, to make him hate her as much as she hated the fact that she did, in fact, love him.

Love had always been a foreign concept to her. There was no use in indulging it – and no use in stooping to his level and spewing emotion from her mouth like so much vomit.

"There lies the difference between you and me." She said. "And it is what makes me the stronger of us both. You have a kind heart. A weak, foolish heart that pounds when I enter the room. You do think when you are in here. You lie on that bed and you dream. You think of me every moment of the day – you remember my body, you remember the heat of passion and you bring back every sorrowful memory of having me in your arms, of the times we spent together. That is because you are a sentimental fool and you were even more for trusting me in the first place. Did you ever once think that I might have designs against you that included luring you to my bed?"

His jaw locked. He straightened, his back going rigid as he clenched his fists at his sides.

"You are only proving what I already knew. That you are manipulative and without a conscience." He said darkly. "But there is something else underneath it…"

"There is nothing else." She shot back hotly, with all the unbridled anger her former Master had instilled in her years ago.

"There has to be more. I would not have fallen in love with you, were you always like this…"

She laughed harshly. "You know nothing of me, Anakin! You only know what I allowed you to see. What I wanted you to see!"

"You killed an Emperor because he was going to have me killed. He had my head on his list because I lobbied against him and his laws in that farce of a Senate."

"Wrong. He deserved to die and was going to anyway. I had planned it all along, you just happened to fall so nicely into the picture."

"Then why are you keeping me here?" he challenged, throwing up his hand and sweeping it in a dramatic arc to indicate the room. "What have I done to deserve this? Why would you keep me here?"

"It is an exercise in power." She said with grim finality. "Nothing more, nothing less. I will have you kneel to me, and beg for the privilege of touching me."

His face turned a unique shade of red, so flushed with angry blood that it looked for a moment like he might burst. It was like watching a fortress crumble – with small cracks appearing all at once, then he came crashing down to his knees with such force that it surely rattled the teeth in his head.

She grabbed him triumphantly, her fine fingers tangling up in his shaggy blond hair and yanking his head back. He winced, and she dove to kiss him. She seized his mouth, their lips locking passionately together.

The tension snapped. And like a trip wire, it set off an explosive. He stood up, suddenly, sweeping her up in his arms in one smooth motion. He pushed her up against the wall, grabbing hold of her in return and pulling on it until she felt some of it snap off at the roots. She groaned in pain and dug her nails into her back, dragging them over his shoulders. She broke skin towards the end, and he began to bleed a little through his shirt.

He pinned her to the wall with his hips, his hands leaving her just enough to tear the shirt away. She held on to the back of his neck, her lips latching onto his throat, sucking so hard that she immediately created a dark, mottled bruise.

He moaned, squeezing his eyes shut. He moved to retaliate, placing his lips against the base of her neck and sucking there, too. She smacked his shoulder, wrenching away, her lips pressed close against his ear.

"Don't." She commanded sharply. "It will be visible."

"Does it matter?" he spat. She smacked him again and bit down on the tender spot she had created. His whole body shuddered and cried out, grabbing hold of her petite waist so that he could slide her down the wall, resting her feet against the ground once more.

He hated her. What he despised more was that he needed her. It could not be denied. It was intense and dirty. It was an animalistic desire buried deep in the pit of his stomach that shot down to his groin and made him erect just handling her like this. Her body, unlike her mind, was so easy to manipulate. It was always very satisfying how she just seemed to melt into his hands. Her smooth skin, her bird-like appendages… Yet she was strong, and she pushed back as hard as he dealt it. She was also angry. Angry that the heat of this moment was causing her to abandon all of her senses. She was letting her guard down, letting him do things to her that should have been the privilege of someone who did not also wish to wring her neck.

But she needed it. She needed him. He needed interaction, he needed a body - he needed her.

She had been right about one thing. He thought about her quite a bit. Of his own will he dropped to his knees and pulled down her practical pants in a deftly efficient movement, just as quickly pushing her panties to the side.

Her hair was falling into her face attractively even as she tilted her head back, her eyes closed and her mouth gaping while his tongue ran over the outside of her slit.

He growled, squeezing her breast harder as he drove his tongue deep inside. She yelped, and he pressed his face as close to her as he could. She could every puff of his hot, heavy breath as he licked her, his tongue writhing inside of her, driving as deep as it could go and working until it was sore.

She was tight, so much so that he felt like he could barely squeeze his tongue in. He drew it out after a minute, sliding it up to lick her red, aroused clit. She made an indistinct, low sound and pressed her hand to the back of his head, shoving him closer to her, practically riding his face. Her thighs were shaking, which only provided incentive for him to keep up the long, hard licks.

His chin, now covered in stubble, scratched her – rubbing against her sensitive clit. She was so wet, and despite her attempts to remain stoic - her body was obviously in need.

She felt the orgasm starting to build. It began as warmth and started building up as pressure. It was enough to make her already weakened knees quake, and she felt like if the orgasm hit she was going to collapse. She knotted her fingers up in his hair, pulling on it and digging her fingers into his scalp. He reached up grabbed onto her ass, squeezing it as harshly as he had her breasts – making her cry out and her hips jerk.

She was close. So close. He could tell. He moved his mouth away from her entrance altogether, dragging her tongue over the curve of her hip and settling on the inside of her thigh. He kissed it, nipping at the skin and making her pull on his hair so hard he though she was going to rip it all out.

"I want to cum," she said breathlessly, the statement straddling a bizarre line between a request and a command.

"Do you?" he said, looking up at her with ire. "Then beg for it. You're lucky I don't make you kneel for your orgasm."

She bit her lip but held on defiantly. He slid his tongue back up her thigh and licked her clit again, nonchalantly. She nearly screamed.

"Finish it, damn it!"

"Beg." He dragged his nails down her thigh. She wanted to rip his tongue out.

"Please, please…" her feminine voice was almost a whine. "Please, I want to…"

"Go on," he started licking her again, going deeper and faster than before.

"I want to cum, I want to cum, please, please…" she uttered the last one through her teeth, her thighs clenching together around his face as she came hard onto his tongue. Her orgasm slammed into her, and he licked her until it had settled – wave after wave came crashing into her and left her wet and shaking. He pulled his mouth away, wiping it with the back of his hand, and she glared at him.

"You bastard." She slipped out of her shirt, the forgiving fabric dropping down to the floor and pooling at her feet. Her whole body was on display for him now. Her perfect, perky little breasts with their pink nipples darker and erect from arousal standing straight out. He saw her slit, now shimmering and glossy. He couldn't help but smirk, knowing what he had reduced her to only seconds ago.

"Do you want me?" she asked sharply, getting down on the floor and straddling his lap. He grabbed onto her waist, pulling her closer, sliding her up until she was resting right on top of his erection. He looked into her eyes, giving her a hard look.

"I don't want anything from you," he said. "I need you against my will."

"Spare me the self-pity." She grabbed his face and kissed him, her silk tongue darting into his mouth and filling it up. She wrapped her hand around his throat, squeezing just enough to almost cut off his breathing. He gasped and he dug his nails into the small of her back. His hands wandered down, sliding down to her slick entrance and playing with the spread opening.

He didn't wait for her to part her legs for him. He slid two of his fingers deep inside, and she stifled a moan as she felt herself stretch to accommodate him. He pushed them deep, working his fingers in all the way up to the third knuckle, and then started drawing them back and thrusting inside, twisting them around. She squirmed on his hand, her hips swiveling. He was slamming his hand so hard. He fucked her with his fingers, acting like he could legitimately hurt her that way, almost as if he could drive them deep enough to push all of the unsavory aspects of her personality out.

She dropped her head onto his shoulder, biting it hard enough that she almost drew blood. He felt her sharp incisors break the skin, but they didn't cut deep enough for that. He growled at the pain and threw her down against the floor. Her head bumped against the tile, cushioned only slightly but the edge of a rug. He grabbed one of her breasts with his free hand and squeezed it, spreading his fingers inside of her, opening her up a little more for him. He withdrew his fingers after a moment and started rubbing her clit, his fingers so slick and her clit so sensitive that it made her moan, her whole body trembling, a thin sheen of sweat forming on her hot skin.

He put his mouth against her breast, his tongue swiping over her nipple quickly as he sucked, biting down on it, slipping his tongue back and forth over the tip. He sucked and squeezed before moving down to leave bruises on the rest of its round form, moving on quickly to the other one to do similar work. Her body was anything but still. It moved against it, her back arching, her hips thrusting. He settled his own body against hers, his hips aligned with hers – his erection straining against his pants as he ground down against her, keeping her pinned against the floor.

Finally, she turned the tables. She grabbed onto his shoulders and flipped him over onto his back easily. She probably cheated with a little bit of Force for that one, considering he was twice her size. She sat up, straddling his hips – her blushing body covered in bite marks and pale bruises – the marks of his mouth and hands.

He was a little bit smug, the proud Empress reduced to a quivering mass.

She pushed herself up on her knees, hovering just above his hips. She bent and her fingers grabbed hold of his pants, yanking them roughly down his thighs. His erection sprang into the air, harder than a rock. It quivered with need, the head dark purple with how badly he needed her. It was until he was free that he realized just how much he was aching, just how much his body needed to release.

She wrapped her hands around his cock – they were colder than ice, and sent an unpleasant jolt of electricity down into his balls.

"You are not worthy of me." She said.

He grunted, and she started stroking his cock – the satin skin moving with her unyielding fingers.

"It is your turn to beg, Senator Skywalker." She growled. "Beg for me, for your Empress."

He didn't say a word. She lowered her hips maybe an inch, just enough to bring him close to her slit. She pressed his head up against her and the heat of her entrance drove him wild. He could feel how slick she was, and his balls felt like they were about to explode.

"Please," the words were wrenched from his throat, hard enough to say and even harder to deny. "Please, please…let me…"

"Let you in?" she lowered herself just enough that the head was allowed to part her walls, but even then she didn't allow the whole thing inside.

"Yes, yes!" his hands were scrabbling against the floor. He wanted to push himself up and take exactly what he had to, but she had him powerless in her hands. It was demeaning, humiliating, the power play was different when it was him on top. With her in control, it was just like always.

He succumbed to her will, there was nothing else he could do. "Please," his voice broke when he said it. "Please, I need to be inside…"

She sank down on his cock, a smooth descent until she reached the base. She clamped her thighs around his, holding him prisoner, rocking back and forth and riding him. His vision was getting fuzzy with pleasure. He couldn't speak, his body could only respond automatically. He grabbed hold of her hips, holding her in place while he thrust inside of her. She winced in dull pain – as she was so tight and he was sizable. His back started arching with his effort, and eventually he pushed up off the floor altogether – flipping her around, putting her once again on her back.

He grabbed her ankles and brought her legs up to rest on his shoulders, lifting her ass up off the ground as he continued to pound into her brutally, his balls swinging and crashing into her with each motion. His wet flesh smacked against hers, and that was all he could hear – disregarding the restrained, muffed shrieks. She had shoved her hand over her mouth to prevent them, but she was not doing a very good job.

He reached out and cupped her by the throat, pushing him down to kiss her at the same time. He was getting close, so close. He could feel the pressure building up, gathering at the very base of his cock, about to explode. He was going to cum inside of her…a satisfying, defiant act of full submission. Of course, it was what she wanted.

He swerved his hips, rocking his hips against her ass as he groaned, shoving his tongue into her mouth and feeling hers push back on his. He didn't know why he was prolonging this. He didn't want to be this close to her any more than was absolutely necessary…

He looked her in the eyes, holding her gaze as he thrust one final time and burst. He drove himself deep and felt his cum filling her up. He stayed in for a few extra seconds, her tight entrance milking him for every last drop. He slowly withdrew, finally going soft – his cock still plump and hyper-sensitive as it drooped between his legs.

He looked at her, breathless, and she gazed down at him imperiously.

Turning away he lay there for a while, his mind a blank slate as he stared at the roof. Shame and self-loathing was burning in his belly, but it at the very least rivaled the hatred he felt for her. Here she was lying next to him – his greatest tormentor, his personal demon, and she felt like she could bat him around like a ball, play with him, use him. Maybe she could, maybe she was right. She was Empress, after all. And as she had reminded him – he was in no position to turn her down.

He wasn't special, after all. He was just unfortunate enough to have taken her fancy during a volatile time. If there was any mercy fated in his cards, she would have killed him the day she had been ordered – or their paths would never have crossed at all. Indeed, actually, the second scenario was preferable. He wished he had never even met her. And he knew she felt the same. She hated the fact that her feelings for him were seemingly her only existing weakness. She kept him trapped within stone walls. She tortured him emotionally, sexually – she starved him, she demanded that he serve her, that he love her.

She didn't realize that she could not get everything she wanted simply by commanding that it should be so. She did not understand that no matter how powerful she became, she could never soften a heart that her own disgusting actions had steeled.

She would probably never understand that. He couldn't even get it through to her. As intelligent as she was, she would never see anything that she didn't want to. All she saw was that…yes. Somewhere he still had a soft spot for her, as well. And she would exploit that until his end or hers, whichever unfortunately came first.

His senses were slowly coming back to him. He was being brought back to the present moment, and realized that the plaster squares on his ceiling were regaining their shape. His vision was no longer fuzzy. The climax had left his thighs slick and hot, but his body was shaking now as the blood came rushing back to his head and his cock was limp again between his legs, lolling soft and plump against his thigh.

From the corner of his eye, he saw her sit up next to him. He turned his head to watch her, and she gathered her hair up in her hands. It was a mess – strands of it sticking out all over the place. She pulled it off her neck and wrapped it up in a ribbon she had tied around her wrist. After she had put her hair in a tidy knot, she sat there for a moment, her nimble hands resting on her skinny thighs. She looked over at him, bright brown eyes ruthlessly capturing his own.

Somehow, he knew that when he died – he would be staring into those eyes. He would be lucky if she was merciful enough to let something else be his final vision – as he did not want her stare to follow him to the grave. That's how vengeful ghosts were created.

There was something else, too. Now that the lust – the heat and the furious desire – had abated, they were left with nothing but submission. Yet it was only submission as far as resignation went. This was how things were between them now. They hated each other, they made each other's skin crawl for different reasons. She would always find him pathetic, and he would always find her callous and repulsive.

But the magnetism was still there. They were drawn to one another. Somewhere along the way they had been bonded and were now impossible to rip apart. To exist, they had to feed off each other. And hatred was an everlasting fuel.

She looked like she had something resting on the tip of her tongue. He wanted to ask her what it was, but he was afraid to even know the answer.

The silence between them was a gulf. Finally, he opened his mouth to speak. She, in her traditional manner, cut him of immediately.

"I meant to tell you," she said. "I'm pregnant. More to the point, I'm pregnant with our child."

His heart stopped dead in his chest. He stared at her for a long minute, the only sound he could hear was the blood rushing in his ears as he felt like all of it was being drained from his face, leaving him paler than a stricken corpse.

"A baby…?" he echoed in disbelief. "Ours…?"

She just threw the announcement out so casually – it was as if she had been announcing the weather. He couldn't believe what he had heard. He almost asked her to repeat it, but he was terrified that if she spoke again it might actually become truth.

Surely, this wasn't so. She was just finding a new way to toy with him.

Was she already pregnant? Had she been pregnant when she walked in, or did she mean that he had gotten her pregnant during his climax moments ago? If the latter was so, than how could she tell? Was it the mystic Force? The numerous questions he had were gathering up in his throat, clogging it, and he choked on the possibilities of what was unasked. He opened his mouth but the other thing that came out was a slightly strangled sound. His wide, shocked eyes searched hers – pleadingly.

She gave him no satisfaction. She had no intentions if imparting any further details. Padme stood, saying nothing more as she gathered up her clothes and slipped them back on. She didn't even look at him again as she touched the door, feeling her powers make it ripple beneath her hands once more.

Even as she left the room, she could feel Anakin's eyes burning into the back of her skull, searching for answers.

Poor man. He wasn't going to find them there.