Chapter Text
Anakin Skywalker disappeared sixteen years ago.
Sixteen years, almost to the day.
Stolen in the night by some unseen force. Never to be heard from again.
Padme grasped the holo tightly between her figures. It was the one of the few images left of the nine year old, taken mere hours after he helped save her home planet. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as the picture played on a loop again and again. His smiling face turned away from the camera just as the image repeated itself.
It always hurt to think of the nine year old. But the wound stung deeper whenever she found herself on Naboo. Padme promised herself all those years that she’d find him.
But almost two decades have passed and not one shred of evidence ever appeared.
He was gone and she was forced to live with it. Fully fledged tears started to fall, staining her cheeks in their wake.
It’s my fault.
The words replayed themselves in her mind, over and over and over again. So often it felt as though they were tattooed onto her brain.
I was queen. He was my responsibility. And I failed him.
No matter how many people, Jedi or otherwise, attempted to reason with her, convince her that it was not her fault, Padme refused to believe them.
She lost Ani and she would never forgive herself.
— — —
Knock . Knock. Knock.
A quick series of raps against the door pulled the grieving senator out of her thoughts. She swiped at her eyes to hide the evidence of her lamentation session. Internally though, she suspected anyone with half a brain could easily discern the truth from her overtly disheveled appearance and (more than likely) red eyes.
“Yes?” She called quietly. Her throat felt thick and her voice sounded off to even the least trained ear. “What is it?”
“Senator Amidala, you’re needed in the throne room.” Someone replied. Commander Rex, she reminded herself. The head of Darth Vader’s personal legion of clone troopers.
Padme sucked in a few calming breaths before responding, “Yes, of course.” She stood up and brushed down the layers of her purple dress. As she approached the door, the senator heard more muffled voices from the other side.
“What...doing...too...long.”
“Yes...my...now.”
Without even seeing them, Padme immediately picked out the new speaker.
Vader .
Sith lord and current bodyguard, as per Palpatine’s instructions.
“Senator!” His deep voice now clearly cut through the barrier of durasteel between them. “Hurry up!”
Resisting the urge to lash out against the demanding Sith remained difficult, despite now being in his presence for the third week in a row.
Three weeks too many.
And it still hadn’t gotten any easier. Not that she expected it would. Instead, the woman counted down the seconds until the emperor released her from his enforcer’s “protection.” But the end didn’t seem like it was in sight quite yet. There was a part of her that would never exactly mind his relative closeness. Not that it was something to be mentioned anywhere outside of the confines of her mind (and bed.) She was expected to remain in the Mid-Rim for at least another month.
Too many threats were being voiced against her.
Supposedly.
Padme knew it was just a ruse to get her to expose her rebel allies. She picked it out well before the old man sent his attack dog in his stead. And before she ever once considered adding onto a complicated situation. Palpatine could play his games as long as he wanted. She would never give up her friends.
“I’m coming!” the senator shouted back at the annoyed Sith. Was he ever not grating on her nerves?
With one last glance around her borrowed bedroom, the senator pressed the panel to release the door lock. The entry slid open, revealing the agitated Vader and his loyal commander.
The pair stood next to one another in the capacious hallway beyond her room. The dark-cloaked Vader towered over the clone. His arms sat crossed tightly across his chest. He never seemed to stand any other way. It would be funny…Matter of fact it was funny, the longe she thought of it and certain ramifications to the truth.
Rex greeted her pleasantly in lieu of his supreme commander. Vader always kept face, despite a knowing look the clone passed between the pair of them. “Senator Amidala, Her Majesty the Queen has requested your presence in the throne room. Governor Bibble has arrived and she wishes to conduct a meeting while he’s here.”
“Thank you for letting me know, Commander. I’ll be there shortly.” She smiled at him. Rex quickly became a favorite amongst her new “security team.” Despite reporting directly to a Sith Lord and the emperor himself, there was a kind side to the clone underneath his layers of professional military standards.
“Are you in need of an escort?” asked the commander.
Vader answered before Padme even had a chance. “I will take her there.”
Of course he will. It’s what he always did.
Padme only just resisted the temptation to roll her eyes. “Lord Vader, there’s no need. I know this palace—“
“Better than I ever could,” he finished for her, holding up his hand. “You’ve told me. Multiple times.” Including last night.
The senator frowned but held her tongue, lest she choose to stick it out at him like a child, allowing him to finish.
“You are under my protection, Senator. And I determine the parameters for your safety. It does not work the other way around.”
The eternal excuse he chose to dole out any time he got even a whiff of Padme’s sarcastic and petulant mood. They were a comfort and a coping mechanism while near him. She knew he returned as much as she gave (and more, not that either of them discussed it aloud.)
“I know, my lord. You’ve made that quite clear more than once just this week,” she commented, only barely ignoring the urge to roll her eyes. Padme could only push so far, and right before a meeting with the Queen was not the place.
Later, she told herself loudly. More than likely loud enough for him to discern from her thoughts. Vader was always listening.
Commander Rex to his credit stood idly to the side watching their exchange. He knew exactly what boiled beneath the surface between them, but knew well enough to keep his helmet on and mouth shut. At least Vader’s hood wasn’t so deep that she couldn't discern his every expression made at her words. Sometimes she annoyed him just enough for it to be comical.
Padme glanced across at the still silent Sith. His hands disappeared into the folds of his cloak, no doubt grabbing at the heavy synth-leather belt, which she knew hung around his waist. Anything to stop himself from physically harming his charge, lest he risk the Emperor’s wrath.
Palpatine wouldn’t allow it...yet. She knew she was treading on extremely thin ice, but thought it better to provoke him without consequences rather than find herself run through with his lightsaber. Unconsciously, her eyes fell to the slightly concealed weapon attached to his belt. The durasteel hilt glinted in the sunlight peeking through the high windows of the palatial hallway. She no longer feared it as she did once. One night of actually holding it in her hands, lit and humming, would in fact change at least a part of her brain.
“Let’s go, Senator,” Vader finally ordered, apparently more than fed up with Padme. He pointed down the walkway, letting her move first. He followed close behind.
—
The senator’s heels clicked loudly against the marble floor as she navigated the path from the private residence wing into the official, formal end of the palace.
Vader stayed a meter or so behind her, which she assumed must have been a struggle for the man. His stride easily outpaced most, a combination of his height and (presumably) his training. And he sometimes preferred to stay ahead of her, leave her behind in his wake.
“What is that?” Vader’s unexpected question stopped Padme dead in her tracks, enough for her to trip slightly. The Sith completely ignored her misstep. His hooded head was pointed directly at a portrait hung along the wall beside them.
The senator knew the picture well.
She commissioned it only a few months after the Trade Federation left Naboo. It depicted a victorious Anakin Skywalker alongside the N-1 Starfighter he used to bring down the droid control ship. He stood with his arm around the dome of Padme’s loyal astromech, R2-D2.
She sucked in a breath. Although she knew about the painting, it had been a long time (too long) since she saw it in person. If the idea of just setting foot in his room provoked the harsh memories of that day, the sight of the boy-hero almost broke her.
But, she was in the presence of Lord Vader. He only saw her break under wildly different circumstances. This was entirely too personal to let him in completely.
“What are you talking about?” She queried, turning away from the picture to glance up at the him.
“Who is that boy?” Vader clarified his question. “His name,” he demanded, voice suddenly sharp and...pained? Padme wasn’t exactly sure, nor did she care enough to ask.
The senator turned back to the portrait. “His name was— is —Anakin Skywalker. He saved my planet sixteen years ago. I commissioned the painting to commemorate him,” she explained. “The astromech is my personal droid back on Coruscant. You’ve met it.”
“Artoo-Detoo?” The softness of his voice took her off guard. Somehow the harsh edge that constantly sounded anytime he opened his mouth dissipated for a moment. It was something she’d become familiar with, but in rare and more private circumstances.
“The one and only. He’s been one of my closest companions since I left office. But that day, he helped Ani destroy the Trade Federation’s control ship.” Padme unconsciously stepped toward the portrait.
Vader scoffed, “Ani?”
“A familial nickname.”
“Whatever happened to him?” He asked slowly as he joined her next to the wall.
“He disappeared a few days after the battle.”
“Hmmm.”
Padme turned toward him. In the shadows of his hood, she watched him consider the portrait. His eyes narrowed into slits while he examined the artwork. She wanted, needed , to know exactly what it was that drew him to this portrait specifically.
Later.
They stood in relatively companionable silence, until the spell was broken minutes later.
“It still upsets you?”
“What?” She asked, confused by the odd impertinence of his question.
“This boy’s disappearance. It still bothers you?” Vader had adjusted his stance. He was turned slightly in her direction, arms crossed under the cover of his cloak.
Padme’s forehead creased in a mix of confusion and anger. “Of course,” she said, a little too forceful, “He was a friend. Is it wrong to mourn a lost friend? Or are we all to be machines without feeling?” She harshly added a well-deserved, “Like you.”
Vader rounded on her. The senator suddenly had a gloved finger pointed between her eyes, but at least it wasn’t his lightsaber. “You know nothing of what you speak, Senator. I’d advise you to choose your words carefully.”
It took everything she had to not audibly laugh at his demands. Comical at best, offensive at worst. “Are you ordering me, Lord Vader?”
“This is not the place, Senator,” he growled, eyes firmly on the senator. The portrait was now mercifully ignored. Forgotten again to spare her the emotional turmoil for another minute.
“Is it not? Is it not best for a former queen to refuse to listen to a representative of another government? We are in the palace after all.”
“A government you personally represent, Senator.”
“The Empire isn’t Theed, Vader.”
“Whatever it takes to settle your ignorant mind, Amidala.”
“I hate you,” Padme muttered from the corner of her mouth, ready to let go of the conversation—for now. It wouldn’t do her any good to prolong a one-sided conversation with him, without the special circumstances of their particular situation.
“Unfortunately, we both know the limitations of that statement, Senator.” Vader spoke in equally as hushed tones, before turning back to the hallway. The tail of his cloak blew out behind him as he stormed away towards the throne room.
Padme watched him leave, as her brain couldn’t help but agree.
– – – – – – – – – – –
Darth Vader despised his mission.
He despised most missions, but this one in particular was entirely more grating than anything his master ever assigned him. And it all fell on the shoulders of an irritating senator from Naboo.
Irritatingly beautiful.
Padme Amidala was a traitor to the empire. He knew it; Sidious knew it; almost everyone important knew it. But they had no proof. And unfortunately for them, she was liked by too many people to be executed along with the rest of the rebels. The only real evidence they had was that she allied herself with Bail Organa and his unfortunate friends.
But Vader knew. It was there in every political move she made. On rare occasions, the woman voted for some of his master’s more eccentric propositions—most likely to save face amongst the elite. More times than not though, she outright supported bills meant to help those that Sidious simply didn’t care about.
The galaxy (as a whole) was surprisingly quiet for once, and his master jumped on the opportunity to out the suspected traitor.
So here was Vader now, babysitting a thirty year old woman, awaiting any slip up that granted him the chance to kill her. That meant sitting through tedious meetings on Sidious’ (and Amidala’s) home world.
Vader yawned for the third time in fifteen minutes. The action stayed silent. He didn’t need anyone knowing just how human he could be.
No one deserved to know.
Padme knows. She knew about it every night.
“I had hoped to get more funding by next month, but the Emperor is holding up the process again.”
The Sith Lord rolled his eyes at the obvious hint of disgust that tinted the senator’s words. She was currently engaged in a discussion with the queen over some type of economic dispute on the planet. Apparently, their treasury was missing money meant to maintain critical infrastructure outside of Theed.
Vader smirked.
Oh, he knew exactly where those credits disappeared to, but wasn’t inclined to share the information. His master siphoned much of it to develop Project Stardust in the Outer Rim. He took a certain amount on previously designated days to avoid anyone noticing where it went.
Apparently, the Naboo finally figured out something at least. Vader wondered if they’d realize any more of his master’s subterfuge taking place around the system.
He highly doubted it.
“What of the expansion bill?” Queen Neeyutnee asked her representative in the Senate. “For ground forces?”
“I’m not sure,” Amidala answered honestly. “A good majority of senators are unwilling to act against the military.”
“I personally disagree with it. There’s been no action to justify such a large contingent of stormtroopers,” Governor Bibble joined the conversation. The aging politician only remained as a figurehead for the planet. His position lost its power to Moff Panaka, who sat to his right.
“We can never have enough troopers, Governor. Who’s to say the rebels aren’t ready to act right now,” Panaka argued.
Vader watched them with no interest. He was fully ready for the debate to end so he could return to his room and meditate. Or engage in otherwise…unsanctioned physical actions. Being stuck in multiple rooms of politicians was a test of strength unlike those he took during his training. And it took all of his willpower to make it to the relief of his evenings.
It was pure luck—and a bit of self-control—that he hadn’t strangled any of them yet.
“What do you think, Lord Vader?” Amidala’s question pulled him from his bored state of contemplation.
“What?” His eyes meet the senator’s own brown irises across the room.
“I asked if you have any opinion on the new stormtrooper program expansion,” Amidala clarified her inquiry. “What with you being their Supreme Commander.”
Vader crossed his arm angrily over his chest. He scowled at the impertinent woman. The spotlight now rested entirely on him. Everyone promptly stared, clones included.
He only offered a one word reply, “Yes.”
Amidala continued with her challenge, “Yes, you have an opinion? Or, yes you agree with Emperor Palpatine’s decision?” She cocked a brow and crossed her arms over her chest.
Vader considered her question carefully, not that it mattered what anyone in the room thought of his response. But prying ears, namely the moff seared opposite the senator, would be more than happy to report back to his master.
All of them eagerly awaited his reply. Amidala smirked. She knew her little query in the hallway already set him on edge.
“I agree with the Emperor,” he began, answering the senator directly. “We do need more stormtroopers to destroy the fledgling rebellion and restore order to the galaxy.”
Vader leaned back on his heels, ready for the incoming argument the senator was readying to unleash on him. Her emotions were palpable; he read her like a holo-novel. Amidala frowned deeply, a crease formed along her brow.
“Are there not enough soldiers to fight now? Is the rebel alliance so overwhelming that the government needs to spend trillions of credits on recruiting and training more troopers? Can we not use that funding for more sustainable causes like feeding our own people?” She was fuming.He felt the anger roll off of her in waves.
Amidala gripped the armrests of her high backed chair tightly enough for her knuckles to turn white. Beneath his hood, Vader smirked, an expression he knew she saw clearly, despite the shadows crossing his face.
“Every system has the ability to make their own decisions, why must that responsibility fall on the emperor? The government is meant to provide for the safety and security of the Galactic Empire,” Vader replied. “Individual systems are meant to care for their own well-being.”
He watched as the senator chewed on her lips to subdue a strongly worded insult not suitable for polite company. But he was sure to hear later.
“Please, Lord Vader. Senator Amidala meant no offense,” Queen Neeyutnee finally intervened. She leaned slightly off of her grand throne and looked between the pair.
“I find that highly doubtful.”
It’s all she ever does.
– – – – – – – – – – –
Padme glared at the obviously smug Sith Lord. He resumed his position next to her majesty’s throne. Despite the many layers separating him from the rest of the world, his entire demeanor shifted. He leaned slightly to one side and crossed his arms over his chest victoriously.
The senator hated that she had been in his company long enough to discern the subtle changes in his actions and what they meant. She was meant to study him, but only for practical subterfuge purposes. Most certainly not to understand why he acted as he did. Not that it ever stopped her interest in him from increasing tenfold.
The Sith Lord should not be as fascinating as he’d become in their time together. They were grown adults with separate lives. He meant nothing to her outside of a professional capacity, but their encounter in the hallway only solidified the odd tics she still encountered.
Why was he so interested in Ani?
The poor boy disappeared years before the Sith Lord began serving as the Emperor’s right hand. He meant nothing to Vader, and the senator preferred it stayed like that. Unless there was any information to glean from his curiosity over a long-missing child, then it wasn’t necessary for Padme to pay attention to it.
She felt the stares of the other council members and promised to set that particular inquiry on the back burner.
For now, at least.
Governor Sio Bibble, an old friend, quickly changed the subject to something entirely more lighthearted than the twisted state of the galaxy. “Are you to attend the gala celebration tomorrow?”
“I am meant to, Governor,” she responded sweetly. Padme was genuinely excited for the event. A large party meant enough people to distance herself from the overbearing Sith Lord. She’d finally have a chance to speak with her allies without the chance of Vader overhearing them.
“Very well, my lady. It shall be a most marvelous celebration.” His words lacked any real sense of enthusiasm. They were nothing more than a polite response to her acceptance to the Queen’s invitation.
Hollow words for a hollow cause. Brave for him to easily speak the words in front of Palpatine’s enforcer.
The room stilled for the briefest of moments. Padme’s eyes drifted to Lord Vader, still standing casually amongst the formality of the throne room. No contradictions to the governor’s words were uttered. A surprising change for the highly opinionated Sith Lord. His boss must have insisted against any show of force in the presence of the queen.
Once they left though, all bets were off.
“Do you have anything planned for this afternoon?” Neeyutnee pivoted away from the growing awkwardness.
Padme cleared her throat. “I do, actually. I’m meant to have dinner with my family this evening.”
Vader’s hooded gaze finally reacted. It turned so suddenly toward her, she almost subjected herself to whiplash. “Excuse me, Senator?”
The Naboo woman blinked. “This was already cleared with the Emperor’s office, my lord,” she explained, voice even but precariously close to cracking.
“I was never informed of this.” He kicked off from his position near the throne and slowly approached Padme’s seat. “I am in charge of your security, my lady.” He nearly spit out her courtesy title—a common occurrence since he began guard duty.
“Then there was a breakdown of communication, Lord Vader.” She stated his name with an appropriate amount of ire, matching his own annoyance. “The Emperor himself granted me this short time with my family as we’re expected to only be in Theed for a few days.”
He grunted, and...pouted? Like a child who received a scolding from their parents. Like her young nieces. “But you never mentioned anything to me. And I’m the one expected to protect you.”
Padme gripped the armrest of her high backed chair once more. Her anger threatened to spill out in kind. “Again, my lord, it appears as though someone in the Imperial system failed to inform you. But I will be going this afternoon.”
He’d made it to her seat. While he towered over her, Padme refused to allow him to continually intimidate her. She’d learned well enough in the past three weeks that it was more for show than anything else. Palpatine needed her alive and Vader was forced to follow along. She adjusted her position in the seat, straightening her back and stretching her neck. This only added a few millimeters to her smaller stature, but he wasn’t going to lord over her so easily.
“You will not be going until this matter has been cleared by His Majesty,” Vader growled. His hands were still tucked into the folds of his heavy black cloak, but she noticed the slight twitch of what she presumed were his fingers along his belt.
“Lord Vader, it’s been a long day for you both,” Neeyutnee cut in again. “Why don’t you take this time to retire to your rooms and contact Coruscant?”
Padme sent out a silent prayer of gratitude to her successor. Her body grew too tense during the conversation. She forced herself to relax her jaw and scale back her death grip against the chair. “I do believe Her Majesty is correct, Lord Vader. You can get confirmation that everything I told you is the truth.” Padme forced herself to remain calm, but her voice still retained the angry edge to her tone.
Vader leaned back on his heels, but his hands never left their positions inside his cloak. Padme glimpsed his lightsaber. The shiny metal minutely reflected the bright light of the open throne room. The mere sight of it sent a shiver down her spine. For more reasons than the obvious.
“Perhaps it is better to take a break,” he finally stated, a touch of amusement tinting his voice.
Padme glared up at him, but agreed with his words. There was too much to be done than to continue her long standing arguments with him—especially in such a public arena. “I thank you for speaking with me, Your highness,” she glanced past the imposing man to offer her gratitude.
Neeyutnee nodded. “I always enjoy our time together, Senator Amidala.” Her eyes briefly shifted to the Sith, too fast for any untrained person to pick up.
Padme pursed her lips, a sign of reassurance for the Queen. It was an unspoken promise that Vader was the senator’s to handle. She’d been dealing with his overbearing presence for a month, another few weeks in his company was nothing to the Nabooian woman.
“Let’s go, Senator,” Vader demanded, breaking the moment between them.
But Padme refused to budge. Neeyutnee had yet to rise from her throne—any others standing before her was a breach of protocol, an absolute faux pas on her home world.
Inside his hood, Padme heard the easily distinguishable sound of an annoyed growl from the man. She rolled her eyes again. Vader was nothing more than a petulant child given free reign to lead his mission away from the direct supervision of his master. And he was clearly showing it in his actions.
In public.
Privately, Padme knew exactly where he stood. A certainty that she’d never share with another living soul.
For reality between them settled at night, in the relatively charged peace of her (or his) bed. A compromise shared between them, to release an exorbitant amount of emotions shared between them. None of them positive, but strong enough to warrant a level of physicality and intimacy she never expected to share with someone like him.
The queen understood the growing discomfort and adjusted her skirts. She slipped off her seat, and the other Naboo representatives mirrored her actions. “I look forward to seeing you at the celebrations tomorrow then, Senator.”
“As do I, my lady.”
— — — — — — —
“You chose not to inform me of your plans,” he said as soon as the door to his borrowed bedroom closed.
Padme outright refused to ever engage in their…compromise inside her room next door. It was almost like hallowed ground for the senator. And she refused to desecrate her old friend’s memory with her current activities.
Her lips trailed down his neck, sucking hard at his pulse point. He hissed at the contact, while his hands pulled at the clasps holding her dress together.
“I already told you,” she came up for air to correct him, “The Emperor’s office is fully aware. As are the clones.” She leaned against his shoulder once more and nipped at his collarbone. Her fingers slid to the heavy belt across his waist. It fell to the floor with a resounding clatter, saber included.
“You didn’t have to drop it,” he told her, annoyance dripping from his voice.
“Do you want to be quick about this or is it going to be a whole day thing? Because I do in fact have some place to be later.” She moved her lips back to his neck as his hands pulled the layers of her gown.
“Amidala,” he growled.
“So, I’m Amidala again? Right.” The senator’s hand slipped into the waistband of his trousers. She stroked his hardened length through the fabric of his underwear. Vader’s fingers stopped their motions against her dress as he moaned at the contact.
“Fuck,” he murmured, head falling back and eyelids fluttering shut.
Padme stroked him again. Pre-cum leaked from the tip, dampening the palm of her hand despite the barrier of his boxers. She pumped two more times before pulling away and wiping her hand against the front of his tunic.
“Don’t stop.” Vader’s voice rose an octave in his desperation. Padme grinned.
Exactly where I need him to be.
“Absolutely not.”
“Excuse me?” The offense taken in his tone was almost comical to the senator. His petulance knew no bounds, neither publicly nor privately. She basked in the entertainment provided by their arrangement.
Padme took full command over their release-inducing activities whether or not they happened in the privacy of her home on Coruscant. A notion Vader was always eager to enjoy, despite his insistence on control in every other aspect of his life.
“You called me Amidala,” she explained in simple terms, easy enough for him to parse her displeasure.
“Is that not your name? Or have I been guarding the wrong senator?” He righted his neck as she moved away from his arms, stepping away to glare at him.
“Padme. My name is Padme when we’re like this,” she gestured between the two of them. And she knew that he understood her words well. It was part of their initial agreement after her first proposition, all those weeks ago. “How many times must we go through this, Vader?” She invoked his name with enough ire to momentarily startled him back to his senses.
Amidala was her public persona. The former queen and current senator. Padme Naberrie only ever appeared in privacy behind closed doors and darkened rooms. And this relationship between them was conducted with the utmost privacy. No one knew…except Rex. And that was only for plausible deniability.
She often wondered if Dorme suspected something, but never let herself actually ask her handmaiden, for Vader’s sake at least. (For now.)
“Fine, Padme . How are you, Padme ? How was your day, Padme? Can I fuck you now, Padme ?” The Sith questioned in quick succession, his condescension only grew with each passing query.
The senator tapped her foot impatiently, frowning at his arrogance. She crossed her arms over his chest and watched him.
Vader huffed when he realized she wasn’t budging. “You’re really doing this right now ? Like you haven’t worked me up far enough already? I’m going to have to take care of myself now?”
“Exactly.” Padme smirked as her hands reached behind her to re-close the clasps he already opened, leaving two in the middle undone because her arms only reached so far.
“I hate you,” Vader whispered. His thumb and forefinger pinched the ridge of his nose as he released a heavy sigh.
She rolled her eyes. “You know my terms, Vader.” Padme nearly spit his name. She brushed down the multiple layers of her skirts until they looked less wrinkled. The fabric Dorme chose wasn’t the most suitable for an easy adjustment, but she had to make do in the moment.
“Fine.” His yellow-gold eyes looked up at the ceiling while Padme turned around, ready to leave him behind. “I apologize for calling you Amidala, Padme. I know that you don’t like it.”
His sentence was well-practiced and too-often used. The Sith always forgot himself in the darkness of her bedroom, despite relishing in the dominance-streak he found in Padme.
“And?
“I’ll try to remember my place when we’re like this.”
That one’s new, she realized. He never easily acknowledged the strange sort of authority she’d established between the two of them after their first encounter all those weeks ago. It was like he was subjugating himself to her whims.
Padme didn’t like it.
“Vader,” she whispered, slowly approaching the Sith who had seated himself along the edge of the bed. “What are you talking about?”
Padme might not like him, nor like to be around him outside of their “situation-ship,” the tone of his voice unsettled her. Resigned, subdued…so wholly unlike him. It almost frightened her.
Almost.
“Nothing.” She knew it was a lie. For being an arrogant, stubborn Sith, he was in fact a terrible liar, especially when they were together like this.
“Are you sure?”
Instead of vocalizing a reply, Vader merely nodded. His curls rocking with his head. But there was something in his expression…a far off look to his eyes that seemed to betray the truth in his lies.
Oh, shavit. Just kriffing let it go for two seconds, Naberrie.
She stepped into the space between his legs. “Then we’ll finish each other tonight.” Padme let her fingers drift through his hair, the one part of him she wished to have constant access to. He usually kept it carefully covered under his thick hood. But his curls were always so soft and welcoming to her hand. She let the pads of her fingers glide over his scalp. Vader groaned under her touch.
“Fuck, Naberrie.”
Her true surname. She allowed it. The rest of the galaxy, the rest of the Empire, wasn’t privy to it. But she always let him use it when they were like this.
Now, if only he ever admitted the truth of his own name, then their arrangement would be based on truly even footing. But she doubted he’d ever broach the subject. He never once mentioned even the remote possibility of its existence, despite Padme knowing there was someone he used to be. No one was ever born a Sith Lord. Well, not anymore.
She let her gentle ministrations morph into something more aggressive. Her nails dug into the skin and she tugged a curl or two as she pulled his head back towards her own. Their lips met in the middle. Mouths moved against each other synchronously like a carefully rehearsed dance. At this point, it was good as practiced—every night in the sanctity of her bedroom.
On occasion, the speeder used to escort her from the Senate. Twice in his Star destroyer. Once in her Star skiff. And now in his own borrowed bedroom in the palace.
His tongue slipped in between her lips, Padme’s followed suit a few seconds later. Slow and sure, desire running through her body again. Vader’s hands wound their way around her back as he moved her closer to his chest. She threw all of her weight into him as she moved, pushing them both onto the top of his mattress.
Her legs settled on either side of his hips. Vader exhaled against her mouth as she rubbed her aching core against him. The friction felt good. Better than good this time. Padme moaned, Vader joined her only seconds behind. She moved away first to inhale fresh air into her lungs.
“Fuck, Padme,” he repeated his earlier sentiment.
“You need to get this dress off of me,” she told him before capturing his lips again in another heavy, heady kiss. He complied while never removing his mouth from hers. The first of the many barriers between them loosened as his fingers pulled the tiny metal clasps apart. Without warning, Padme found herself on her back, Vader lay above her. Their kiss broken as he worked the dress off of her shoulders.
“You had to go with a complicated one today?”
“They’re always complicated. Just take it off. Now. ” Her desperation was more than clear now. She needed him. She wanted him. She craved the release he brought. Vader obeyed. The shimmery layers of fabric were gone in less than five seconds, leaving her in a corset, her under slip, and her panties, which were dampening under her growing arousal. Padme rubbed her thighs together to add to the need running through her lower body.
Vader’s attention drifted to her shifting legs. He sat himself above her knees, yellow-gold eyes never leaving her as he bent towards the wet spot between her thighs.
His fingers eagerly danced across the skin above the waistband of her underwear. She sighed into his touch, relaxing her shoulders and unclenching her jaw. She felt his tongue lick a thick, broad stripe up along the damp fabric of her panties.
“Nghh,” Padme moaned again, as his fingers hooked into the band and pulled them away. Down, down, down her legs and below her knees. He moved them over her feet and threw them on the floor behind him.
“You’re already so wet, Padme. All for me?” His words were nothing more than a tease. She couldn’t see his face, but did feel his nose skim across the small thatch of hair on her vulva.
“Just…just…” She didn’t have a chance to finish her sentence as his lips clamped over the sensitive bud of her clit. “Aghhh,” the senator sighed. She bucked her hips, pushing his face further against the wet skin of her lower lips.
Vader’s talented mouth worked hard to stimulate the very root of her pleasure. He eagerly, albeit gently, sucked at the bundle of nerves, while his tongue darted in between her folds. He lapped at the wetness pooling between them. Padme couldn’t help but move against his face, as she felt the tell-tale signs of her rapidly approaching release. She edged ever closer, as his tongue moved expertly along her skin, both inside and out.
Her heart raced, breaths coming in shallow pants. “Va…Vad…Vader. I—I…” Nothing coherent ever passed through her lips while he continued his careful ministrations.
Again and again.
“Mmmm,” was the only sound heard from the Sith, his mouth too preoccupied to supply any comment—unwarranted or otherwise.
Padme moaned again. The speed of her hips increased as she felt herself at the precipice of her climax. She rutted hard against his mouth, a pace he eagerly matched in kind. His tongue moved deftly back to her clit, supplying another few seconds of work before Padme felt absolute bliss overcome her senses. Vader’s mouth stayed right over her folds as she bucked her hips. A rush of warmth flowed from her core. He lapped at that liquid too.
“I…I…”
Her skin cooled as he finally relented his hold over her aching sex.
“No screaming this time? Was it so very terrible then?” he teased as he settled next to her on the bed.
Padme blinked, but her pleasure-addled mind couldn’t exactly keep up with his comment. She felt too good to accept his veiled insult, but she was aware enough to thwack his shoulder. “Fuck off,” she murmured as her breathing settled once more. Her heart eventually slowed to a steady beat on her chest.
“I could always do it again,” Vader told her, before kissing her again. Padme tasted herself on his lips, a common occurrence after a coupling like this. She didn’t mind. It was almost like a wicked mix of herself and the Sith, made even more exciting that one time they did it together.
“Not today.” She pulled away, remembering the plans.
The plans that started this whole encounter in the first place.
“Dinner with your parents?”
“And my sister.”
“And you expect me to accompany you?”
“Is that not your job?”
“So you don’t mind your paramour—Ow!”
She slapped him again. “Don’t start.” Padme rolled away from him, a slight struggle with heavy boning of her corset stabbing her side. She knew he rolled his eyes. “Give it up, Vader. It was a bad joke anyway.”
“Fine. But you do actually want me there? The scary Sith lord?”
“It’s been approved so either you or the clones are going.” Padme undid the metal clasps holding her corset together. She just knew the man’s excitement grew at her actions, but she held a hand up before he could even attempt to move toward her. “Not another round this time. I’m just trying to get this off.” She felt the bed shift behind her. “And no pouting either.”
“I’m not pouting.” His voice was much closer than she expected, hands joining hers at the front of the corset. “I do quite well on my own. If you didn’t know that already.”
“Oh, I’ve heard you. Not very becoming of a Sith Lord, is it?”
“What isn’t?”
“To be so loud when you’re alone.”
He pulled one side of her corset open to let her slip through the whole in the middle. Her ribs welcomed the relief. While it wasn’t uncomfortable to wear, certain positions she found herself in were considerably less desirable.
“It’s all for you, Padme.”
He spoke with a level of certainty that Padme’s stomach flipped…until he followed it up with a laugh. She rolled her eyes instead.
“Fuck you, Vader.”
“You’re welcome, my lady. Now about—“
“Do you want me on top or not?”