“How long has it been this time?” he murmured into her hair. “Two months?”
“One month, five weeks, and four days,” Padmé answered. When she had to fight for time with her family, it was necessary to have exact figures to quote to Master Windu. It had been three weeks and two days since she’d seen the twins. When he’d last seen them she didn’t even know.
“Still too long,” he said, then kissed her again. She felt his kisses in her bones.
“It was almost longer,” she reluctantly pulled herself away to say. “I really had to argue with the Dark Woman about the latest reports being just as easily reviewed in an hour’s time. She’s worse than Master Windu.” What kind of person, especially a Jedi, took on a name that included the word “dark” anyway, even if her philosophy supported discarding her birth name?
“Oh yes, she’s impossible,” agreed Anakin. His words were echoed by a sudden deafening clap of thunder.
“Let’s get further inside,” said Padmé. They had both experienced jungle storms like this on Yavin IV, and it was not unknown for the foyer to be flooded during them.
Between them they dragged the speeder into an adjoining antechamber and sealed the door behind them. “Let’s not go in,” said Anakin. “The Dark Woman won’t leave us in peace. If you’re already injected, let’s spend our hour here.” An hour only, they had, before Anakin’s ship arrived, and it couldn’t stay too long.
Before Padmé could object, Anakin was kissing her again, and she didn’t really mind. Not when his tongue was slipped deep into her mouth and was stroking her own just so, and had his hands just so, almost as if he was reading her mind. Which he probably was. From the time she'd first deflowered him on their wedding night he'd shown a knack for figuring out where she most wanted to be touched, and he had to be getting a lot better at that sort of thing now, after all.
And there was no way he couldn’t sense the raging ache that was burning out from her loins through her entire body, making her squirm in his arms, rub herself against his growing erection. The heat of it and the thought of having it inside her was enough to make her lose her mind.
“Are you all right?” Anakin asked, pulling away, though she stubbornly pulled him back. “I sense turmoil.”
“Oh it’s just it’s been two months and spending a week with the Dark Woman and poor Cerni and her messed-up relationship with Quinlan, and Khaleen’s angry at me again and Shmi’s still missing and the Empire’s annexed about five new systems and killed-OH!” Having gotten the point, and maybe not wanting to think about his still missing mother yet, Anakin had opened the front of her blouse and was nibbling on her collarbone, his damp hair bushing her skin.
Padmé’s cry was echoed by another clap of thunder, which only stirred her further. She clutched Anakin to her, bending to kiss him again and whimpering into his mouth, pushing her hands past his wet Jedi robes to grope at sweaty bare skin.
She whimpered again in protest as he again pulled away. “Just let me get this off,” he said, and hastily discarded the robes. As he did, Padmé undid the rest of her blouse and unpinned her bra, aware as she did of how her breasts sagged from nursing the twins, of the stretch marks on her belly.
Then she was certain that he could indeed read her mind, for he looked down at them, and up at her, and there was no mistaking the desire in his eyes, in the way he licked his lips. The soft involuntary moan that pushed itself past her throat was drowned out by more thunder outside, but she was certain that he still heard it.
Then he was on her, pressing hot kisses to her lips and neck before kneeling down to suckle her breasts. The feeling his hot, wet mouth engulfing the first was enough to make her knees give way and he caught her as she tumbled to the floor, automatically straightening out her blouse which still clung to her back, soaked by her sweat, as he laid her down and bent down to her other breast, nuzzling tangled strands of hair which had flown every which way.
“Ani,” she moaned, “Ani...” trying to plead with him to go further down, but she couldn’t get the words out, even as he sensed her desperation and moved down to her belly, his tongue ravishing her navel. “Ani!” she cried out again, her voice taking a harsh tone, her arms and legs flailing about as she writhed in need, and above them came the loudest thunderclap yet.
But then came one still louder, addling Padme’s senses further, before Anakin slid her out of her skirt and underwear. Finally, finally, his tongue engulfed her clit, and she very nearly screamed.
Another thunderclap, a single finger slid into her, and suddenly, as if the floodgates breaking, she found her voice again and a stream of words and syllables came out; she babbled and begged as Anakin’s mouth and thick, moist tongue worked relentlessly on her, somehow finding and lapping at the exact spot of her body where she was burning the hardest, and she was bucking so hard his hands had to struggle hold her down. More thunder, and she came with it, letting it flow through her as she had once felt the Force do, igniting the last of her unfrayed nerves, and when the noise died down and she was again aware of herself, she was vaguely surprised that her body was still intact.
“That was...” she started to say, but was interrupted by another kiss, her own taste thick on his tongue, and another, and found a frantic Anakin had climbed on top of her and was blindly thrusting. She could feel his arms and legs shaking. He mumbled something that might have been a plea.
He made no protest when she flipped them over and leaned down, her mouth sucking love bites on his neck. “Let the others see them,” she whispered fiercely to him. “Remind them that they can’t keep us apart, no matter how much they want to.” He only moaned in response, completely beyond speech.
Her hand traveled down to his leggings and slid under them, to where his engorged flesh filled her hand and he thrust hard against her. Padmé didn’t have his senses, but she could tell he wouldn’t last through much foreplay. She pulled his leggings down just enough to free him and brought herself down. She moaned herself when she felt him fill her at last, hard and thick and hot and perfect.
Outside the thunder was dying down, so Padmé was fully able to hear both Anakin’s cries and her own as she rode him. It wouldn’t be enough to make her come again, but with her hard thrusts and moans she wrung her body of the last of its tension until when Anakin groaned his release, she collapsed upon him, utterly sated and even more spent.
The thunder was now completely passed, but the rain was still coming down hard; they could hear it pounding against the walls. It might buy them extra time together, if the ship had trouble landing.
“Where are you going this time?” she asked when she had breath enough to.
“After a refugee, I think,” he answered. “One who might have a Force-sensitive child with her. Another ally for you and Khaleen. We might be able to see each other again sooner this time.”
“Hope so. Of course I won’t be able to stay until you come back, but maybe whichever of us gets back here first could stall our next departure?”
There wasn’t much time left, so she reluctantly pulled herself up. It took her a moment to be sure she could keep her balance. “I think we overdid it,” she commented. “Both Obi-Wan and the Dark Woman will probably notice a few differences.”
Anakin stood up next to her. Together the two of them surveyed the room, noting the heavy smell of sex which still lingered in the air, and might very well do so for hours on end.
Let it, Padmé thought, and she turned into her husband’s arms and murmured words of love to him in between kisses, both of which he fervently returned. For all their words, they truly had no idea how long their impending separation would be through which the memories this hour would have to carry them.