"We can't do this," Padmé's eyes are closed as she arches blindly into Obi-Wan's caress.

"I know," his finger tilts her chin, his breath warm on her lips, "but I don't think I can help it."

His thumb moves from her jaw to her collarbone, fingertips leaving a tingling trail on her neck. She expects at any second to feel his lips on hers, but instead there is the soft prickle of his beard against her neck, followed by his mouth, sucking gently, moving up towards her ear, his fingers continuing their delicate caress, slipping under the shoulder strap of her dress.

His fingers trace her lips then dip inside slightly, grazing her teeth. Swaying, she wraps an arm around his neck, pulling him back with her onto the bed, and he must be as intoxicated as she is because he tumbles with her, weight reassuringly real as it lands on top of her, their laughter mingling, his hair falling forwards, tickling her face.

"Hey."

Feeling him shift his weight, she half-opens her eyes.

He hovers above her, hands either side of her head. His eyes search her face and, realising this is a question, she smiles and nods, sliding a hand into the silky hair at the nape of his neck, drawing him closer.

A flicker of guilt removes the smile from her face a moment before he kisses her, but then her conscience is drowned out by the pressure of his tongue inside her mouth, unleashing her desire.

Before long her body demands more than just kisses and she wriggles underneath him, hooking her legs around his hips, enjoying the sensation of her dress riding up, indecently, to the top of her thighs. Their bodies align, his arousal evident against her through the layers still separating them.

He pulls away from her mouth, breath uneven, lips brushing her ear. "Too much clothing."

She pushes against his chest and he sits back, kneeling between her legs, his face flushed, hair dishevelled, eyes smouldering as his fingers move swiftly to unbutton his shirt.

She smiles lazily, her lips swollen and tingling from his kisses. "It suits you."

The dark green silk slides onto the floor and, he shrugs as his eyes follow it, avoiding the compliment, charmingly perplexed.

She chuckles, her eyes roaming the muscles of his chest. "Hmm… actually I think I've changed my mind."

He looks up, registering her hungry expression and grins, reaching down to lift her leg, hooking her knee to press a kiss to the back of her calf. His face becomes serious again as his fingers rake softly down the flesh of her thigh, grazing the edge of her underwear, all the time his eyes remaining locked with hers.

His hand leaves her and she shivers, fingers fumbling to unfasten her dress, the very opposite of the smooth efficiency with which he stands and sheds the rest of his clothing.

Her eyes sweep his body as he stands, naked before her, without a hint of self-consciousness. If anything he seems more relaxed this way, more confident. She sits up and starts to slip the dress from her shoulders.

"Leave it," he says huskily, taking both her hands and pulling her to her feet at the side of the bed.

Her dress is unfastened to the waist, hanging open. He reaches forwards and carefully pushes the strap off one of her shoulders, biting his lower lip as his hand moves over the swell of her exposed breast, rough thumb brushing once, then twice over her nipple. "I want to remember you like this." He takes a step forward, attaching his lips to her bare shoulder, the rest of his body not close enough to touch her. Two calloused palms trace the outsides of her thighs, sliding up underneath the hem of her dress. "Do you know I dreamt of you, once?" he whispers by her ear, thumbs caressing lightly.

"You did?" she murmurs.

"Mmm. The night we met again, after you first returned to Coruscant."

"The night you flung yourself out of my window?"

He smiles against her cheek. "That's the one. I should have been awake, trying to find your would-be assassin but instead I was dreaming about doing this." His fingers reach her underwear, teasing there for a few moments then hooking underneath, easing the thin material slowly down over her hips to fall to the floor.

"I dreamt of you moaning as I touched you," one of his hands is on her hip, trapped between the silky material of her dress and her skin. "Like this," the other hand trails up along her inner thigh, "and like this." Her legs tremble as his fingers dip inside her, spreading the slickness, circling her just there.

Once.

Then twice.

She moans.

"Yes. Just like that." His tongue flicks her earlobe, his fingers continue to slip against her.

"Mmm… Don't stop," she mumbles, the tension building in her body, finding herself suddenly desperate for more. "Please don't stop."

When he chuckles, she knows he will.

When she opens her eyes she is almost surprised to see Obi-Wan, and not Anakin.

She hisses when he removes his hands, but the sound is quickly muffled by his kiss, his arms beginning to pull her into an embrace. Irritation flaring, she pushes him back, impatiently kicking away the underwear tangled around her ankles, relishing the look of surprise on his face.

"Tease," she says, regaining her composure, playing her part one again, walking forwards, a hand on his chest, forcing him backwards against the glass of the floor-to-ceiling windows.

She leans up as if to kiss him but when he lowers his face she stops short of his lips. "I've always wondered what it might be like to do this."

She drops to her knees, looking up at him, one small hand pushing his waist to press him back hard against the cold window, her other hand moving to grasp his erection.

He moans, his hand running over his eyes then into his hair, his head tipping back against the glass.

"Look at me," she demands, caressing him in long strokes, steady but slow, before suddenly taking him into her mouth, as far as she dares.

A low moan is followed by a bang as he throws his head back against the glass, clenching his jaw, and she wants to smile but her mouth is busy, fighting the reflex to gag, working in response to the small thrusts of his hips.

The fog of her desire thickens at the feel of him, and the sight of him, like this: abandoned and under her control.

Her jaw is beginning to ache when she hears him murmuring. "Enough." He repeats it, again, more loudly, his hands moving to her shoulders.

She doesn't stop.

His hips are moving erratically now, his moaning growing louder, his fingers beginning to dig into her skin.

"Padmé… I…" There's a warning in his voice, but also, a plea.

She doesn't stop.

Suddenly, his hands leave her shoulder and slam into the window. With a final sequence of jerky thrusts and an unintelligible shout, he climaxes hard, warm liquid filling the back of her throat.

She swallows automatically, then lets his flesh fall from her mouth, pulling back to regain her breath, sitting on her heels and looking up at him.

He runs a hand gently over her hair, his expression a mixture of satisfaction and confusion. "You didn't-"

"Have to do that?" She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. "I know. But I wanted to."

"I-" he begins, shaking his head. "Come here."

She takes his offered hand, and pulls herself up. He places a soft kiss to her lips, his expression suddenly serious as he rests his forehead against hers, regaining his breath.

"You are a formidable woman, you know," he says, eventually. "Many men are intimidated by you, even more desire you. I consider myself very lucky to be here with you like this."

She smiles again, not allowing the sentiment to sink past her carefully-erected shields. "And I had the biggest schoolgirl crush on you when I was fourteen." It is the truth, and she tries to remember that time, to the girl untainted by everything that has happened since. "Of course you didn't notice," she continues, pushing a damp lock of his hair away from his face. "I was just the irritating girl who happened to be Queen, wasn't I?"

"Why are you here Padmé?"

She drops her hand and turns away.

"For the same reason as you, I expect." She walks over to the bed. "I'd rather not talk about it." She cannot bring herself to openly lie to him, for the moment clinging to her self-denial.

"And when tonight is over?" he says quietly.

She sits down on the bed, feeling suddenly weary, adjusting the crumpled dress to cover her body. "Then we go back to being who we were before. Is that not the Jedi way?" She does not attempt to hide the bitterness in her voice; long since having lost all respect for a doctrine inflexible to even the simplest idiosyncrasies of human nature.

A doctine that allows them to fail their own kind, so badly, while having the arrogance to consider themselves compassionate…

He takes a couple of steps towards her. "But is something wrong? I sense-"

"Please don't," she interrupts him, looking down at the floor. "Don't sense anything."

He crosses to her, crouching down by her knees. "All right, but, please, look at me for a moment," he raises a hand, his fingers gently turning her face to meet his gaze, grey-green and full of concern. "Know that I am here, I will always be here, if you need help. Always. It is not conditional upon what happens in this room."

She nods, wanting to scream at him for being so fucking predictable, but then finds tears welling in her eyes, the sincerity of his voice having unlocked a vulnerability she has long fought to suppress.

When she reaches for him he seems to know instinctively what she needs.

He kisses her.

It feels like a lifetime since anyone has kissed her like this: slowly, languidly, relishing every second of contact, drawing out time until it is measured only in trembling breaths.

When, still kissing her, he begins to ease her backwards onto the bed, she knows she should tell him to stop.

This was not supposed to happen.

Too late. She is helping him strip away her clothing, pressing her eyes tightly shut as his hands roam her body, leaving a trail of fire on her skin. Her thigh finds him hard again as he leans over, tongue flicking her nipple, teeth teasing gently at her flesh.

"Want you… now," she hears herself murmuring, acting on instinct, desperately trying to pull him on top of her.

"Yes," he responds, but he resists her invitation, instead gripping her hips, dragging her off the bed and into his lap, positioning her-

"Ohhh-" She sinks onto him, gasping as he fills her, arching her neck.

His hands on her hips help her find a fast, needy rhythm.

She surrenders to sensation, forgetting everything, even herself, knowing only the trickle of sweat down her neck, his tongue following it, beard rasping, teeth grazing, fingers digging into her thighs, bodies rocking together, grinding, chasing pleasure.

It's not quite enough and she moans in frustration, feeling him tense in response, and a few seconds later his fingers slip around her clit, circling in time with his thrusts.

The pleasure peaks swiftly then shatters around her, the waves of her orgasm encouraging him to follow, his cry against her neck, muffling her name, her body numb, muscles weakening.

She shivers and he draws her close, smoothing damp hair from her forehead. She kisses his shoulder, muscle tense under salty skin, not allowing herself to think anything at all in this moment except how comforting his arms feel around her.

Padmé returns to her apartment in the early hours of the morning, weak grey light filtering through the blinds at her window as she places her bag carefully on the table, padding to her darkened bedroom. She stands a few feet away from the bed and undresses silently, turning towards the bathroom when she's done.

A quiet rustle of bedlinen. She freezes.

"Come here." The voice is muffled by a pillow, an arm flung out towards her, reflecting the dim light.

"I need a shower."

"Come here."

She obeys.

Strong arms pull her between the sheets, lips soft on her neck. She shifts uncomfortably. "I'm tired."

"I just want to kiss you." A mouth presses to hers and she yields to him limply, merely allowing him to kiss her.

He appears not to notice her lack of response and, satisfied after a few minutes, he pulls away, stretching back on the bed, fingers of his flesh hand resting lightly on her chest. Exhausted, she finds herself drifting towards sleep.

"So did he call out my name when he came?" The voice drags her back to wakefulness.

She groans.

"Did you?" he continues.

"What?"

"Did you come?"

"Anakin."

"I need to know."

The bed shifts under his weight and rough hands turn her face to his. She opens her eyes to see him staring down at her, jealousy mixing with fear in ice-blue eyes.

The man she could so easily hate. The boy she can't help but love.

She tilts her chin in defiance. "Why didn't you just go to him yourself?"

He laughs. "Somehow I don't think he's quite ready for that." His finger slides over her swollen lips. "Whereas you, my love, are the perfect bait."

"I still find it difficult to believe it was your idea."

His face sets to an impenetrable mask.

She reaches a hand to his cheek. "Surely you can tell me, now. Surely I deserve to know more, after this." She always asks, even if she fears the day when he will tell her the truth.

"In time," he says, turning his head to kiss her fingers. "But for now all you need to know is that this is the only way. When the Jedi fall, he will not be among them."

"And you are certain he will join you?"

"Yes," he replies. "I know him well enough. His weaknesses, and his strengths."

She smiles. "He's more like you than I thought."

"Really?" He settles between her legs, gloved hand against her jaw.

"Mmm," her mouth is muffled by his kiss, his tongue against hers.

He breaks away from her mouth, his erection nudging her thigh. She adjusts her legs to pull him closer.

"So did you let him fuck you?" he asks, teasing her with the movement of his hips, smiling against her hitched breaths.

"Don't."

"Did you?" His voice is a fierce whisper.

"Yes."

"Did you come?"

She deliberately locks her eyes with his. "No."

He smiles. "Good." His hips flex forward, filling her in one long thrust. She meets his rhythm, wondering if she'll ever stop needing him.

"Mine," he whispers fiercely, against her neck.

"Yours."

"Always."

"Always."

"I love you."

"I love you." She turns her head to the side, for once wanting to avoid his fevered kisses.

A tear slides down her cheek and onto the pillow.