Disclaimer: The Star Wars Universe is the sole
property of George 'The Visionary' Lucas; a man
whose deft perceptions have never dimmed throughout
these many years.
Vision Quested
"Are you an angel?"
Those words, that innocent question...
Tenderly uttered by an impressionable young
boy, a long, long time ago, back on Tatooine
when he was a slave, and she, a vision in the
flesh who had glowed before him amidst the
broken-down, lackluster relics of the shop he
had once toiled in.
After all this time, it was those words which
still echoed within his mind as they stood
together, joined at the hands. Held fast by
the strength of two hearts overflowing with
passionate love.
Yes, he'd been that industrious, plucky slave.
That hearty sand-whipped soul who had seemingly
no hope of a promising future, his true
abilities as yet unrealized.
The answer to that eternal question was
abundantly obvious as his blushing young bride's
lips warmed his once more.
Anakin drew his quixotic face away from her
lovely one. The face he'd dreamed about every
night since laying eyes on her. Deeply, he
smiled into her smoldering dark brown ones, and
she returned the depth of his urgency. The
rustle of her silken lace taffeta headdress
matched the delicate fragrance which clung to
her soft, luxuriant hair.
He struggled to breathe. It was always the
same whenever she was near. Her radiance,
made the simple exercise of breathing in,
breathing out, toil.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spied the
droids watching them, and he sensed their
curiosity, and something else...
As unbelievable as it may have seemed, waves
of approval radiated from the amazing
machines. No, surely not mere machines.
Padme's and his photoreceptive witnesses to
the private nuptials. R2-D2 and C-P3O,
staunchly, their loyal friends...
From the high Bramantesque terrace, the
expansive lake was so tranquil, so lambent,
mirroring the regal beauty of the majestic
mountains that surrounded the deep body of sky
blue water. A long trailing cloud swaddled
the nearest summit. It was the ideal setting
for a perfect honeymoon.
"I love you, Ani," was carried upon the gentle
breeze. Padme guided his hands to her waist
and Anakin moved her body in closer to his.
Only for a moment did the idea of his hand and
forearm now molded to her waist, and artificial,
upset him. Might she deem him less of a man
because of the loss by the ignominy of callous
butchery?
From the depths of his mind, Master Yoda's sage
tenets, warning of the feelings which paved the
way to the 'dark side,' fondled his patterns
of thought and feelings still in formative
stages.
'Do...or do not. There is no try...'
'Thank you, Master Yoda. I choose not to give
into the suffocation of self-doubt,' Anakin
spoke sincerely through the Force, with his
mind, to the sagacious Jedi doyen scores upon
scores of parsecs away on Coruscant.
Padme imagined he was voicelessly invoking a
special prayer of blessing on their behalf.
The pain of the loss of Shmi was acute still,
but wonderously, Padme's love had already
worked such wonders, blunting the sharp edges
of irredeemable loss.
"I love you too, Pady...truly, deeply." He
lined his forehead up against hers, but
struggled nevertheless to mask the shame that
had rippled through his soul. The shame which
clung to him still over the Tuskan Raiders
massacre on the outskirts of Anchorhead, into
the far reaches of the Jundland Wastes where
the Jawas had told him that's where he'd find
the vile marauders. "Forever."
He had neglected to tell Padme that he'd even
slaughtered their docile Banthas along with
their vicious mongrels.
Her hands flowed up past his neck where her
wrists crossed behind his head. "I love you
openly, without any reservations. It was crazy
to think we could deny our feelings. Worse
still...ignore them."
"Completely impossible. Even the Force could
never prevent that." He thought back to the
fierce battle waged on the arid world of
Geonosis, now thinking that if Obi-Wan hadn't
clamped down on his arm while aboard the
Stinger transport when he had, and had called
him to his senses, forcing him to admit what
Padme would have done in his situation, he'd
been seconds away from jumping out to get back
to her. Expelled from the Jedi Order, Obi-Wan
had sternly told him. Barred from being a
respected member of the the eclectic fraternity.
Gently, Anakin molded his hand to the side of
his beautiful young bride's winsome face,
drinking in the gravity of her look; the
propensity of her feelings for him which
consumed her.
She was his wife, he her husband, and they
would be together for as long as they lived.
They had sworn this to each other.
"What we've done here today was the wisest
thing. The only logical thing to be done,"
she murmured against his supple cheek with her
eyes closed, seeing him, in her mind's eye,
battling valiently in that enormous arena
against the fleshly and metallic barrages of
all lethal comers.
His sword wizardry arrested her breath,
possessively catching it away, each time he
seized hold of his lightsaber and dazzled her
to newer heights of devotion. He was so brave,
and strong, so undaunted, and the handsomest
man there could ever be.
She would never leave his side. It had been
in that foul arena, the stench of which had
been suffocating by so much wanton destruction,
that she knew it was her destiny to be his for
all time.
After she had thought that, she caught Anakin
grinning that affecting toothy grin that
severely weakened her knees.
Taking a final look at the stately scenery,
that was dimming with the onset of deep rosy
shades of dusk, the bemused couple turned away
from the beguiling panorama of natural splendor
as one. Anakin meshed the fingers of his real
hand with Padme's willing gracefully-tapered
ones, and her heart beat wildly. She could not
prevent herself from thinking what their first
time was going to be like.
He sensed her hesitation, her uncertainty.
The anticipation laced with mild apprehension,
and saw the gradual, telltale stain of self-
consciousness seep beyond her neck, into her
cheeks. In a soft, calm voice he reassured her,
"I know. Believe me. I understand, and I will
be. It's my first time too. I'll never hurt
you. We're so right for each other, Pady.
We'll be magic."
Padme returned the squeeze of his hand, and
lost herself in his sultry, yet comforting eyes
for as many times this never-to-be-repeated day.
"I love you, Ani, my dearest. I shall, always."
Anakin's arms barricaded her, and applying
somewhat more pressure than previously, he
pressed her to himself. While in the throes
of the feverish embrace he vowed, "You are my
heart, Pady, my very life. I pledge to you.
No matter what the future holds for us, we'll
be together... Always. This I promise, never
to take back."
Sweeping his bride, who was no longer blushing,
up into his arms, Anakin, with eyes looking
markedly bedroom, kissed her temple and headed
for his adjoining bedchamber, now theirs. Once
they crossed over the threshold, the twin,
curtain-adorned, glass-paned doors slowly
closed behind them, gently guided by the Force.
The Nabooian sun had already begun making its
leisurely, but inexorable southern descent.
Determindly, R2-D2 started off in the direction
of the closed-off sleeping chamber, but was
swiftly cut off by a highly agitated C-3PO.
"No, R2," the gleaming, highly-buffed droid
barked, with its usual sharpness whenever the
diminutive droid got beside itself, taking too
much upon itself. "They won't be needing our
services, I can assure you." The squat, feisty
droid demanded to know why not, and just as
testily, 'Goldenrod' responded, "You will
*never* understand human behavior. And never
you mind what it is they are doing. Now, come
along, R2, this is one of those uniquely human
instances where they'll get along just fine
without us. Most splendidly, to be sure."
The little droid hooted something snide, which
irritated the 'stickler's' circuitry, and the
put-upon counterpart merely ushered the
astrodroid, protocol-correctedly, of course, in
the most opposite direction that could be taken,
giving the honeymoom suite the widest berth
technically possible.
Vision Quested - Part 2
Sue
susieqla@yahoo.com
SPOILER: AOTC - Star Wars - Episode II
SUMMARY: Post-AOTC exploits.
RATING: M-17
Disclaimer: The Star Wars Universe is the sole
property of George 'The Visionary' Lucas; a
gifted soul whose deft perceptions have never
dimmed throughout his many inventive years.
Vision Quested - Part 2
The phantom of what was once his real hand
was buried wrist-deep in the eider-soft locks
of his sweet girl. Padme was fast asleep
upon his chest. The upward curl of her lips
had him convinced that she was undoubtedly
dreaming of him, and pride swelled within him.
He freed his hand from her thick tresses.
Ample illumination of unobstructed moonlight
streamed through the open bedroom doors upon
their huge bed. Heaven's purest light bathed
and shaded his supple wife of a mere five
hours, blissfully naked, and wrapped around
him, in the most provacative way.
The smooth pads of his fingers, which now
lacked fingerprint whorls, and whose fleshy
counterparts had once summoned the fruit she
had been about to cut, to his plate so he
could oblige by cutting the seasonal, succulent
shuura for her and then dictated the half's
effortless float back to her, stroked the
bounty of dewy softness that was her cheek.
Taking his time, he stroked her flawless
forehead next.
His shudder was profound, it was more like a
convulsion, as he lay with her curled up
against his chest like a spent little kitten.
Anakin felt hungover, though he had never been
drunk a day in his disciplined life. Not even
once. In his own words, 'Obi-Wan would kill
me...' Yeah...sure he would, Anakin gloated,
knowing quite the opposite. As much as any
other indulgent father would, who let their
kids get away with murder.
Why? Because they couldn't help themselves,
devoted to their children as they were.
The frenzy of sheer joy that his dear Padme
had inspired in him throughout the revel of
their lovemaking surpassed any inebriation
from even the choicest fermentation.
If he had been mezmerized and bewitched by
her beauty and fineness before, his body,
his entire being, literally pulsed with
heady reverential awe of all that she was.
Incredibly, his feelings for her felt to have
a life of their own within him, separate and
apart from everything that had ever happened
to him prior.
What he felt outstripped anything he might
have imagined in his most covetable dreams.
Loving Padme the way he did now, the way he
always would, was more like a sickness. An
intoxicating delirium which he would never
seek to find its cure, as long as he lived.
The only measure of transient relief was for
him to loss himself in the splendor of her
vital, strong, yet delicate body, again
and again, this night. She filled his senses
to the brim with her wild abandon that
bordered on wanton. The sedate, cool, calm
and collected Senator from Naboo made love
like a strumpet. Where had she learned to
perform such spicy things? Not too shabby for
a virgin, he mused, and there was no mistaking
she had been one before their amative coupling.
He must bring out the 'no holds barred' lover
in her. That self-satisfying idea manufactured
one very goofy-looking grin's spread across his
face which then dissolved into an expansive
yawn.
They had feasted upon the carnal delights of
each other until completely spent, and even
after the mellowing-out intervention of
several hours, his body still thrummed. He
tingled with the throbbing of such glorious
sensations, and no matter what consequences
they faced if it were learned that they had
wed, it was of no consequence.
Anakin's brow wrinkled in mild perturbation.
How could a secret of this magnitude ever hope
to be kept with a prayer of success? His
negative train of thought betrayed his sudden
unease. Not with the handy affinity of, more
often the case than not, snoopy Jedi having
the ability to read his random thoughts like
an open book? Anyone's who was sufficiently
transparent?
Sometimes having the Force with one wasn't as
great a deal as those who lacked midichlorians
had it cracked up to be.
He re-resolved, forever after, that keeping
his thoughts under stricter lock and key was
the order of the day. Thanks to the insight
the Force had already lent, he was well aware
of just how commandingly his wife could keep
her innermost thoughts and feelings locked
down. Much better than he could, he confessed,
once again amazed. Maybe a midichlorian test
should be performed on her one of these days.
He thought it again, just as he had thought
it many times before this: Padme Amidala-
*Skywalker* is the most remarkable woman in
the known galaxy...and she's *mine*.
Yoda, in all likelihood, already knew; how
could there be any doubt of that? But, then
again, there was that remote, slightest of
chances, and he'd take it, that although Yoda
was the wisest, most prepossessing Jedi master,
this side of the Good Side of the Force,
devious, dexterous thought manipulation on
his part might shield their secret.
Obi-Wan too, likelier than not, had a more
than fair inkling of what they'd been up to.
And yet, handling his mentor with 'who me,
Master?' finesse was a bit more doable than
pulling that kind of phony, 'see-through,'
haven't got a clue what you mean innocense
on Yoda.
Anakin sighed heavily, and willed that his
thoughts drift back to bliss. Combined, they
had consummately swept each other away, having
been raptuously out of control, and loving
every dizzying moment of it; every delicious
inch of each other.
All that he'd dreamt of and more...
What they had far surpassed his getting kicked
out of the Order for. He'd live; been there,
done that. There were other things in life,
even if he was the one purported to bring
'balance to the Force.' Moons--the Force
could go balance itself for all he cared now.
Studying to become a Jedi was fine, but having
this superb woman as his wife was finer. If
given another chance, he would have made the
identical decision over again. Deep down, he
knew so would Padme. He hadn't had to twist
her arm to have her say, 'yes.'
His groggy meditation of their eagerly
adventurous sexuality coaxed his mildly-
callused hand over his lover's scarred upper
back which he gently rubbed with an easy
familiarity.
The battle scars which had been harrowed into
her heretofore unmarred flesh by the feline-
like Nexu were raised, still somewhat puffy,
but felt pleasing to his touch. He reached
out with the Force, and infiltrated her
unconscious mind, murmuring her praises over
and over. Filtering her dream with how glad
he was that they had waited before indulging
their passion, and how much he would never
have enough of her love.
She is a born warrior, he considered, as
he slung his ripped, honed leg over her naked
hip. Still fast asleep, Padme snuggled deeper
into him. Her weighty slumber was peaceful,
and he rejoiced within himself that he had
satisfied her. Had given her all that he was,
resisting the prickly, seductive urge to use
the Force, for their first time, to enhance his
performance, which was nothing short of
phenomenal. Padme's totally biased opinion,
not his.
The maddened rush of fire that had coursed
through their veins was soul-jolting; silky,
addictive. Passion welded with pleasure was
impossible to recover fully from.
She had panted his name over and over, its
singing in his ears had driven him to even
dizzier heights of eroticism. His youthful
mind, schooled in the forebearance and self-
examination of the Force, had been on the
brink of exploding, as he had flown higher
than all those many other times he had nearly
driven poor Obi-Wan out of his mind with his
reckless leaping from airborne speeders while
in the thick of Coruscant traffic at the height
of rush hour. Just to show his master that he
could.
Yes, he was fearless, and he never backed down
from proving the point. Reckless? Well, maybe,
sometimes, but reckless in a good way. In such
a way that never forced Obi-Wan to stay very
angry for very long. He had Kenobi wrapped
around his nimble fingers, and they both knew it.
Anakin would protest in his defense that he was
proving his mettle for his future day of exacting
testing. Obi-Wan would utter some chastening
words of censure half-heartedly, some words of
encouragement that when that day came he would
be more than ready, and the issue would be
closed.
Once again, Obi substituting. Cast in the
demanding role of push-over dad, for the father
Anakin had never had.
Anakin often found himself wondering whether
Obi-Wan's being overly critical had its roots
in his master not wanting to lose face before
his peers, with having had to take on such a
'headstrong' Padawan. Poor, Obi-Wan Kenobi...
The trials and travail of trying to train the
likes of Anakin Skywalker; a teacher's bane
in the flesh.
Anakin trailed his devouring mouth along the
nape of her slender neck until he reached the
soft valley sandwiched in-between her shoulder
blades. The fleshy region seemed to emanate
fragility like papier-mache. He heard her soft
sigh which only served to spur him on until...
"Ani? Is that..." Gently, her breathy yawn
ensued. "You?" She exhaled into his ponytail
and wormed her hand underneath his chin. The
remnants of her idyllic dream tattered.
"Well, it sure as the Force better be," Anakin
teasingly rejoined. "How many more Anies do
you know *this* well?"
"Is that a trick question?" Padme cajoled and
allowed her randy husband, who was now wide
awake, to snake his left hand down the front
of her chest. "How many Jedi does it take
to..." Her giggles filled his ears. He was
extremely mindful of not allowing the coolness
of the artificial appendage to chill her.
"More Jedi exploration?" she prompted
coquettishly, but not to a fault.
Lightly, Anakin's thumb tip tactilely traced
the circular stain of her right areola. She
shivered against him. He cradled the breast
within his palm which she leaned into.
It wasn't long before its plum-colored nipple
stiffly nubbed. Her throaty moans came from
the lowest range of her vocal cords. Insistent
tension was captivity Padme craved. As it
mounted, she wildly thought what the stuffy
members of the Senate would have thought,
gawking at their displays of avid intimacy.
The shocked delegates would have been knocked
right out of their hoverplatforms for the rude
awakening once hitting bottom. If there
weren't laws against such things, there should
be.
It was no longer such a surprise to her that
her dear, sweet little Ani was a...well, there
was no other way to do him justice, nor skirt
the bold fact that, once she got him going...a
lust-whipped reek in bed.
Oooooh, *baby*.
'...The Honorable Senator Amidala (no
hyphenation. This marriage had to be kept under
wraps at all costs) of Naboo...the Padawan,
Anakin Skywalker's, Nubian sex slave. Padme had
to laugh, and she did, but it was more like a
chuckle.
"What's so *funny*?" her husband, who was
very serious about what he wanted, and how he
wanted it this go 'round, demanded to know.
Eruptive passion was moments away from erupting
again. "Ani, dearest, would you consider
yourself my sex slave...if I considered myself
yours?" Her tongue had wormed its way inside
his ear, and his impulsive chuckle was a match
of hers.
But, the word 'slave' soured in his ears.
Gruffly, Anakin's stinging words flowed, "I
never want to be a slave again. Not ever--not
ever again!"
"B-but, Ani...I--"
"*Never* again!" Furthering that idea, he
sounded even more hard-bitten, with the pain
and suffering he'd endured for years soldering
the bitterness into his tone. "Not anyone's
for the rest of my life." His ear shied away
from her mouth. She felt his anger, but she
was determined to ameliorate it.
"Not even mine, sweetie?" Padme whispered,
moving her mouth close to his ear again. The
hand he wasn't holding feverishly sought out
the distended member of his body that had
given her so much pleasure. When she seized
upon his sizeable shaft, she enticed, "Much
better benefits, I can always promise you that,
my, beautiful Jedi, who does his best work at
night...mmmm? What say you?"
Her firm squeezing of his responsive organ,
which was stiffening quick, was doing the trick.
Finding it harder now to put words together that
made thought coherent, he stammered, sounding
confused, "I-I, di-didn't mean to--oh, the Force,
Padme--I'll...I'll." Her beguiling wisps of
giggly laughter drove him into a sweaty agony of
molten rapture in anticipation of what was to
follow next. "Don't torture me," he gasped.
"You know you love it, Ani, so stop acting as
though you don't want me to have my way with you,"
Padme heedlessly fondled. "Whatever way it is I
want it with you."
This time, Anakin reached out with the Force,
hoping to overwhelm her on an ephemeral plane
before he physically did. Padme sighed in
contentment, and rested her mouth upon his right
pectoral. Her lips, puffy, somewhat bruised
from their embraces before, caressed the
blossoming bud of his nipple, to be followed
next by her tongue, and it was he who
experienced the sensation of falling headlong
off one of the cliffs typical of this quaint,
picturesque locale.
"PAD--"
His mind spiraled, but by means of the Force,
he refocused before the premature spoiled it
for Padme. Sheer desire drove him to bleat,
"I'll be whatever you want me to be, my dearest,"
he gulped, sounding as if he were choking down
the last drop of the raging seas on Kamino.
"I'll do an...anything--b-be anything," he
panted, dying for one healthy breath, "just as
long as you love me." The subjugated Jedi
squinted into the muted darkness, muzzy, puzzled.
The effect she had on him...stronger than even
the Force.
"Right now," Padme fairly growled, "I want you
deep inside of me for as long as I say."
Bright beads of profuse sweat slid from Anakin's
sheeny brow. "Y-ye..." he wheezed, barely
breathing with her exquisite body's rhythmic
lolling into a straddle above him, her hands
racing over him, everywhere.
Intelligent thought jelled with ardor.
And then, with a zealous single-mindedness,
she guided his engorged, slick shaft into
her musky folds, dripping and ripe for
implantation. His, "I love yous" were muffled
by the intense peals of rapture Padme blared
to the all-encompassing room. Her shaking was
spasmodic, but throughout her frenzy, she
embedded him even deeper inside herself, the
joy of being one with him explicit on her face.
"I'm you're slave, Pad--I'm anything you want me
to be!" he swore with abandon.
"I ca-can ne-never get enou-enough of you, my
most pow-powerful Je-Jedi," she exclaimed as the
brain-numbing melee of ecstasy on the boil
racked her gloriously. She squeezed her
internal muscle harder, feeling him close,
as she was.
Without warning, the room exploded into a
riotous kaleidoscope of bright, whirling
splendor following his final bucking thrusts
and writhing. His hands welded themselves
to either hip, and she collapsed onto his
chest, sated and paralyzed for several
scintillating moments.
When Anakin had recovered sufficiently, he
wrapped his arms around her waist and wheezed,
"You *are* an angel. You're my angel, Padi."
"Padi?" She sighed. "We'll have to think
of something better than that, but later."
"Later." He sighed too.
"I'm your angel, Ani." Briefly, she lifted
her head from his chest amazed over how fast
his heart was beating. She feared it was
on the verge of bursting through his chest.
"Are you all right?" he softly asked. His
ability to wield the Force was compromised for
the time being until he recovered his senses
fully. Gently, he coaxed her head down over
his heart, liking the weight of her against
him; feeding off of her luxurious aroma.
"I'm perfect, love...absolutely perfect."
Turning her head slightly, she kissed the
moist flesh beneath which beat his savage
heart. "Did you use the Force this time?"
She felt her own heart quicken as the sound
of her voice ebbed, and her curiosity piqued.
There was so much to feel, to drink in;
hard for her to know for sure, it was.
"A little...but just to concentrate. I did
not want to taint it for you, Pad. I never
want to do that. Cheat you out of your
true feelings." He gripped her tightly.
"When you touch me like that it's hard to
control myself." He felt her grin bud upon
his chest.
She used the voice that could make him
forget his own name. "My how thoughtful, my
willing, obliging Jedi..." She hesitated,
considering how happy it would make him if
she said it, and it now seemed her purpose in
life was to make him happy. "Master."
"No masters here," Anakin whispered into her
soft hair, feeling her fingers twist his
braid. He kissed her warm forehead and
said through a sigh which sounded more like
his choking, "Only two willing slaves."
"I hear and obey," temptingly, Padme dangled.
He rewarded her with another fierce hug, and
eagerly, his lips sought hers out. "Me too..."
As his tongue enticingly burrowed its way into
her receptive mouth, he breathed, "*My* master."
Padme shut her eyes, clutched his hand as his
tongue swirled a leisurely ring around hers.
She gasped, as he soon did, then, and
unhesitant, dove off the steepest cliff,
nearest to their cozy honeymoon retreat, which
he had conjured up in her mind, with him.
Vision Quested - Part 3
Sue
susieqla@yahoo.com
SPOILER: AOTC - Star Wars - Episode II...
Obi-Wan/Other... Anakin/Padme
SUMMARY: Post-AOTC exploits.
RATING: R
Disclaimer: The Star Wars Universe is the sole
property of George 'The Visionary' Lucas; a
gifted soul whose deft perceptions have never
dimmed throughout his many inventive years.
Vision Quested - Part 3
"How long will you have my apprentice stay on
Naboo?" Obi-Wan, with his hands crossed at
the wrists, and a notable strain in his voice,
stretched his fingers. He began flexing his
hands at the joints. His eyes crinkled at
their corners, as he viewed the narrow miss
between a doubledecker airbus and a Cyclone
two-seater at the height of rush-hour traffic
over one of the largest Municipal buildings
on the planet. There really should be signal
batteries at that particular intersection, he
thought.
Coruscant's traffic. What a mess. His
eyebrows knitted, then reached for the sedate
Council chamber's high ceiling.
He could feel the weight of Mace Windu's
penetrating eyes upon him, measuring his depth
of concern for his youthful charge. There was
an aura of accusation tingeing Windu's dominant
bearing. His feelings were not as couched as
they so often were. "The Council feels it
would be wise for Anakin to remain on Naboo
until further notice."
"Really..."
"We have given the matter considerable thought."
Yoda wasted no time filling the gap of
resounding silence that surged behind Windu's
pronouncement which had been said with
inarguable finality. "The Senator in grave
danger, still, she is. Until Dooku's
whereabouts, shrouded in secrecy as they remain,
are learned, better it is she be hidden from
harm."
"But, Master," Obi-Wan persisted with just
that flavorful seasoning of mindful
restraint, "wouldn't it be more prudent for
her to be here? Under the direct protection
of the Council instead of in the solitary,
inexperienced supervision of my..." Kenobi
faltered, still ashamed over Anakin's abject
failures aloft in the military transport,
and at the confrontion with Dooku in the
hangar. Obi-Wan sighed in vexation. Where
had *he* gone wrong with his apprentice so
easily given to temerity? "Padawan?"
"No harm will he let come to her," Yoda assured,
and his wizened ears erectly pricked up before
further stating the case. "Spare no sacrifice
he will to protect her, Master Obi-Wan. Such
are the feelings for the Senator, he has."
Kenobi looked disgruntled. "Feelings that cost
him most of his arm, Master," he grimly pointed
out.
"Feelings he must control before ready for the
Trials, he is." The aged Jedi, with the cast
of an unnatural weariness shading his meditative
countenance, shut his eyes, and felt the subtle
imprint of the Force bathe his being in
tranquility. There were no vagaries within this
cherished sphere of perception; only peace and
the crystal clarity of insight untarnished.
"Yes, Master. I know." Obi-Wan recalled to
mind and heard himself echo Anakin's previous
affirmation when they'd entered the club after
the elusive bounty hunter. "He is trying."
Yoda's contemplative eyes searched Kenobi's
face in thoughtful reverie before offering
additional sage advice. Unpretensiously, the
diminutive Jedi Master counseled, "Do...or do
not. Thre is no try..."
Obi-Wan smiled fleetingly, hearing the older
master spout one of his favorite pearls of
wisdom. The handsome Jedi Knight tempered his
preoccupation with his loose cannon of a
Padawan's on-again-off-again success with
patience. "I beg the Council's indulgence,
Master." Submissively, Obi-Wan genuflected,
dropping to one knee, and dipped his head in
deference.
After the intervention of respectful silence
passed, he lifted his head, looked first to
Mace Windu, next to a very interest-piqued
Induo Fifda, one of the newest Council members,
and lastly to Yoda.
Kenobi was having difficulty assessing their
collective feelings; quite a few of his peers
were having mixed ones. He felt his quandry
was a cause for concern, but now was not the
time to agonize over his momentary inadequacy.
Rising to his full stature, he ventured,
"Might I request of the Council that I go to
Naboo? If my young apprentice is to be ready
for the Trials in the near future, he should
continue with his training. He has already
foregone too many sessions as expediency has
demanded in the wake of these recent,
disturbing events."
"A course of action worth pursing, this would
seem," Yoda fostered, as he surveyed the
reactions the suggestion was receiving. Nods
of approval were forthcoming from the fellow
Council members all around.
Steepling his fingers, Windu said, "It is
agreed then. You will go to Naboo, Obi-Wan,
to continue your apprentice's training."
"Excellent, Master," Obi-Wan concurred, bowing
deeply from the waist.
Before he made a move to leave the Council
chamber, Yoda, who had continued holding him
in his steady gaze, stipulated, "Much to
learn young Skywalker still has. If true the
prophecy about him is..." As far as Yoda was
concerned, all-or-nothing conjecture never
suited him, unlike some of the older, more
experienced Jedi who seemed too disposed to
embrace lately. Their narrow speculations
did much to solidify Yoda's disapproval.
"...The Trials he has yet to undergo may
reshape his ultimate destiny, they will."
If ever there was an ominous statement,
Obi-Wan thought guiltily, that had to be the
last word in prizewinner. Deep down he knew
Anakin was well-suited for becoming a Jedi
Knight, if only he could be more mindful of
controlling his unpredictability. His skills
were enviable, but his brashness never failed
to work against him.
Traveling down the long corridor leading away
from the oval Council chamber, the speculative
Jedi Master considered whether or not he should
contact his young apprentice or, arrive on
Naboo unannounced. He liked perpetrating the
element of surprise, especially since his
opinionated learner didn't like it.
Obi-Wan sighed, awash in paternal sentiment,
somewhat distractedly, waved a greeting to a
female Padawan, as the sixteen-year old human,
who hailed from a forgettable planet in the
Dagobah system smiled sunnily at him.
"Hello..." He heard how far off he sounded
even to his own ears.
"Hello, Master Obi-Wan," the willowy young
thing with bouncy golden ringlets wafted to
him with more batting of her eyes than the
observant young Knight deemed necessary.
"It's always so fine to see you."
Before he could feel what was coming, she
reached out with the Force, and smacked his
heart, causing it to beat several rhythms
faster than it had been prior to her
stopping.
For one so young and, for the most part, still
largely finely-untrained, she wielded pleasure
waves like an old master.
"You know how much I hate it when you do that,"
Obi-Wan fussed. Now the racing palpitations
were up his throat.
"I don't believe you, Master Jedi. That's not
what you said the last time...in the..." The
girl sensed he didn't want her to finish that
sentence.
"Mind your thoughts, young one," he cautioned.
"I am. It just so happens these are the
thoughts you inspire. But, if you don't
like them all of a sudden, make me stop,"
the olive-skinned baiter baited. Her
irrepressible face was an amusement area
oozing delight.
"And mind how you speak to me, *Padawan*."
He'd drawn that word out like an elasticized
band. "I am not your peer. I am your
better." Obi-Wan regarded her with eyes on
the brink of crossing the threshold of being
benign. Somewhere in the neighborhood of
begrudgingly, her name assailed his
disciplined mind. "Sairena..."
Playfully, the girl scrunched up her comely
aquiline nose at him, and gently stroked his
mind with hers. The pounding of his heart
reverberated soundly within his heaving chest.
This can't go on, he insisted, but the idea
was half-hearted and he knew it, so did she.
So much for fighting the feeling.
"Obi..." She grabbed him by his arm, and
discreetly wheeled him into a quiet corner,
hidden from curious view. Hastily, she
kissed his cheek, and looked at him long
and fondly. "Don't be cross with me."
"You make that monumentally simple." He
tried keeping his facial expression stern,
incapable of concession brooking it. He
needed to mediate harder tonight, preferably
in the 'fresher, with the door bolted, so
his avid admirer would be barred from
molesting him.
"Molesting?" she sneered.
"A fitting word." His facade was caving,
on its last legs even before the nipping
girl kissed his other cheek, lingering close
to it instead of withdrawing immediately.
He sighed heavily, as though the weight of
many decisions rested on his strong shoulders.
"If the Council ever found out about us
there'd be grave consequences."
"Let them. Be brave. Don't hide your
feelings from them." Sairena burrowed her
nose in his remarkably soft beard, and Obi-Wan
warmed to the girl's tender ministrations.
Verboten, rang out in his mind, but there was
no denying this underripe 'forbidden fruit'
was to his liking, and generously, he pressed
his body tightly against hers.
"Ah, fair one, what am I to do with you, my
girl?"
"Anything you desire, Master With The
Sweetest Eyes," Sairena purred and wreathed
her delicately-proportioned arms about
Obi-Wan's neck. She was as tall as Kenobi,
and her light hazel eyes sparkled when she
felt his hands invade the hidden regions
beneath her tunics, and gather her waist; he
rocking into her center, touching off her
quiet, but bubbly giggles. "Healer Chyna says
your lightsaber wounds have healed quite
nicely."
"Yes, well enough," the Knight assented,
reveling in his champing-to-be-his-lover's
feather-light touches coupled with deep,
thorough strokes. Before devouring her mouth
with his, he whispered against her cheek, "I
succumbed to apprehension and hubris, which
led to my injuries. Overconfidence is a far
easier failing for us all than we care to
admit."
Into his mouth, she soughed, "Not for you, my
brave, humble Knight..."
The hungry kiss left both breathless, and
their perceptions momentarily out-of-kilter,
but keenly desirous of savoring far more
than the cramped confines of their covert
afforded.
Slowly curtailing the perfervid tangle of
lively tongues, and through hazy coherency,
he confessed, "Alas, even I, fair one. I'm
only human."
"Thank the Force for wondrous miracles,"
Sairena reinforced, hugging him fiercely.
"I would have given anything to have been
in the arena of execution, fighting by your
side, dearest Master. We would have slain
the Acklay together, my love, and then
defeated all of Dooku's mechanized hordes
without the providential, yet unmeritorious
intervention of the clones." Tenderly, she
bathed his eyelids with plentiful kisses
after they'd closed.
"Plucky, girl," Obi-Wan praised. "Somehow I
sense no small hint of dishonor in your tone."
Sairena huffed, "Master Yoda arriving with the
clone army was cowardly."
With a patient sigh, Obi-Wan disagreed. "We
were obdurately outnumbered and about to die,
at Dooku's command, dear one. If not for the
clones, I would not be here enjoying your many
tempting charms." His sapphire blue eyes
twinkled as they glowed.
Sairena's frisky fingers gently waded into
his downy beard until they poked his skin.
"We are Jedi, we are proud. Overwhelmingly
skilled to vanquish any foe. The clonic
recourse was dishonorable."
"As you've indicated, you weren't there." Her
youthful braggadocio was one of her many
durable qualities he found arresting, and he
chuckled. "My, aren't we the stout-hearted
Padawan..." Quickly reading her truculent
thoughts, he raised, "Knighthood is reserved
only *after* you have successfully passed the
Trials." Obi-Wan modestly tweaked, "And it
is a lesson well-learned that sometimes
increasing the odds in one's favor is the
better part of valor, impressionable,
idealistic dear. I would have thought Qua'lau
Kau had taught you that difference, by now."
Stubbornly, Sairena said, "Why can I not
have you for mentor?" She tugged on his
heartstrings when she pouted. "She's dreadful.
Always criticizing everything I don't
accomplish to her dreary dissatisfaction."
"I already have my Padawan learner. I can't
possibly have two." Not in the habit of
rolling his eyes, Obi-Wan overrode his
self-imposed proscription and did. "Qua'lau
dreadful? You would hardly think so if you
had seen her against those recursive droidekas."
Sairena cocked her head to one side,
thoughtfully studying him. Was that abiding
affection she saw in his eyes?
He went on, "She was electrifying to behold
through the Force."
Sairena's frown deepened. "Admit it!"
"Admit what, young one?" Obi-Wan angled with
an amused inflection.
"You're in love with my mentor!" the upset
girl accused.
Obi-Wan's laugh was derisive. Such a
stubborn child she was. He adored her.
He wove a blanket of fidelity about them by
means of the Force. "Why, of course. That
is why I'm standing here with you now, with
my arms around you, braced against this
wall." He waited the appropriate length of
time before kissing the tip of her flared
nose. Gradually, and once he'd kissed her
nose several times, coaxing her smile, she
did. "Admiration and love aren't quite the
same. Necessarily. Closely-related, given
special circumstances, perhaps, but more
often than you might think, not synonymous."
"You love *me*."
"I thought that was obvious through the many
presentiments of the Force, Sair..."
Vise-like, he lightly caught her nose between
the knuckle joints of his index and middle
fingers and squeezed.
Pursing her generous, supple lips, Sairena
prompted, "I know what you cause me to feel,
but I want to hear you *say* it, Obi."
Of the utmost importance for the fairer sex
to hear those words. Even if that sex up
for graps overflowed with midi-chlorians.
Her count was a tad lower than Anakin's.
Obi-Wan smiled pleasantly into her scowly
face, toying with the kittenish idea of
licking the tip of that exquisitely edible
nose of hers.
Drum-roll, please, he thought, facetiously.
"I love you." Ever since he'd glimpsed her
tantalizing face that fateful day when he'd
spied her in the garden, talking to the giant
lumfish in the reflection pool, his upsetted
heart had gotten lost in the complex shuffle
of loving feelings awakened. "It's against
my better judgement..." Sairena's frown was
once again demonstrably evident, and the
teasing Jedi Knight kissed her softly on her
velvety cheek instead. "But I do. I am
irredeemably under your powerfully-hypnotic
spell, my lovely zinna-flower." The dazzling
blossoms which had the appearance of being
bespeckled with precious tzirchronium flecks,
fit her to a tee. Hope you're happy now,
popped into his train of structured thought.
He continued to bore his vision into her
better-contented eyes.
"Now, I am," she said with a chastening look
as she flashed those eyes. But no sooner had
she assured him of her renewed contentment,
her face was overcast by somber speculation.
"What if I *don't* pass the Trials?"
Obi-Wan gave her a look drenched in absurdity.
"That's utter nonsense. Of course you will."
"But--but what if I don't, and never become
a duly-designated Jedi Knight? Then what?"
She wasted no time answering her own two-
edged question. "You won't want me, that's
what. You'll never choose me for your bride
then. You'll be ashamed of me. I wouldn't
blame you." The Jedi Master's mouth dropped
open, but she didn't let him wedge a word in.
Much like pent-up waters from a dam that has
suddenly burst, she flowed, "I shall come to
you tonight, once most activity has died
down. We have wasted much too much time
already. Tonight is the night for us to
become one."
His heavy sigh hung upon the little crawl-
space's stuffy air. "You remind me of
someone," Obi-Wan cryptically began, knowing
she couldn't resist knowing whom.
"Who?" she demanded, sounding typically
breathless.
"My equally pessimistic Padawan." He pressed
his lips into her crinkled forehead, and
chuckled softly when he heard her sigh. "Both
of you love dwelling on the negative. First
of all, you shall pass the Trials with flying
colors--"
"You know this for a fact, do you?" she
breathed raggedly against his throat. "You've
searched the future?" She had hoped as much,
but had been hesitant about coming right out
and asking him to do it.
"*No* I haven't done that, that would be
tipping destiny's hand, but I'm confident in
you and your considerable abilities, my love.
You shall become a Knight, never fear. And..."
He cupped her face between his cradling hands.
"Secondly...I shall have you for my bride
regardless of any outcome. I love you, my
sweet, and want you by my side. I truly
believe with all my heart it is the will of
the living Force that our lives intertwine.
I submit to its will."
The young beauty's eyes were glassy, near to
spilling their wet bounty touched off by
Obi-Wan's emotional confession. "Oh, Obi,
I love you so!"
His index finger stroked her cheek. "So
they'll be no more talk of failure, nor your
sneaking into my chambers tonight for
prenuptial--"
"Nookie?" Sairena's threatening tears had
dried up.
"Precisely." Obi-Wan's look was implacable,
yet there was a generous give-and-take to it.
"Exceedingly precocious for your age."
Sairena savagely puckered her rosy lips just
for him. "When, and only when we're properly
wed will I drink my fill of your sensual
bounty." He carelessly waggled her chin with
a firm hand. "I will not sample that which
is not rightfully mine." His entire face
twinkled when he forcefully added, "Once we
are, they'll be no stopping me..."
He felt her shiver vividly in his strong
embrace, and she infused him with her
glorious vitality through the Force. "I
can't wait," she said, feather-dusting the
ear closest to her with those winsome words,
and then chose to lave the lobe with a tongue
that promised untold future delights.
"You can thank my many ascetic years of
being a Jedi Master for fortifying my self-
control," he attested, squirming as he felt
the fiery plume of prickly heat begin to
rise within the snug confines of his tunics.
"Oh, so that's what I have to *thank*,"
Sairena sardonically bandied.
For a stolen moment, a steamy glimpse of
what he wanted to do with her invaded his
tamer thoughts. For as long as he allowed
the wayward mental imagery, he reprimanded
himself for letting his sturdy control
hiccup for just that moment.
Too late. His reddened cheeks had tattled,
under her watchful gaze, he self-consciously
realized. Boldly, she laughed in his burning
face. He rushed to apologize.
"Don't," Sairena tweezed, still laughing,
wreathing her arms about his neck again.
"Don't think I haven't pictured us doing
that before."
"Saucy girl," Obi-Wan dovetailed with a
sheepish look rimming his eyes, he having yet
to cool down. "And too appealing for your
own good."
"There's nothing better than the real
thing," she dangled with a dramatic toss
of her head.
"Patience...patience," Obi-Wan tempered,
"all in due time, my sweet." He began
worming his way out of her strong grasp,
a growing look of resignation flitted
across his face. The sassy, yet so
breathtakingly attractive gamine knew her
time was up. It never failed whenever she
fortuitously managed to snag him alone
like this.
Whatever Jedi business it was needing his
attention, was due.
"How long must you be away?" she knowingly
asked.
"There's no precise way of telling."
"Where do you go?"
"To Naboo." Cautiously, he peeked out of
their dim, little hideaway in a half-hearted
attempt to gauge whether the coast was clear.
"Who, or what's on Naboo?" She stood with
an eyebrow clinically arched, and her
balletically-slender arms tautly akimbo.
"My apprentice, and the Senator the Council
has charged him with protecting."
"Ah, the Senator..."
"Padme Naberrie-Amidala."
Batting her eyes dramatically, Sairena said,
"That much I knew, you realize. The talk
these days seems to be about nothing else."
Then seriously, she went on, "Is she still in
so much danger?"
Obi-Wan nodded, looking grave, indeed. "With
the whereabouts of Count Dooku still unknown,
not to mention the Neimoidian Trade Federation
constituents, led by that cutthroat, Nute
Gunray, who wants the Senator's head on his
desk, likewise at large, in a word--yes."
With his hands clutching the sides of her arms,
he leaned in close to Sairena, and tenderly
kissed her forehead which had a somewhat high-
burnished appearance. "No need to remind. I
will be careful."
"You'd better be," Sairena defiantly flung
at his retreating back. "I'm holding you to
making a satisfied woman out of me."
Just before ducking out to take off, Obi-Wan,
with a crisp ripple to his sultry voice
promised, "Satisfaction guaranteed, I assure
you, my eager pet..."
With greedily-trained eyes, she watched him
hurry his way down the gauzy, sun-dappled
expanse of airy corridor, a wry smile tugging
at the corners of her picture-perfect mouth.
She felt consummately tongue-in-cheek at
the moment. "A *very* statisfied woman,
Master Oh..."
...Naboo, two standard days later...
Sunsets didn't get much better here. The
evening sky was ablaze with seemingly every
color of a Nubian rainbow. A Nubian rainbow
shining radiantly amid ethereal clouds in the
five-month long Spring expanse. The hour was
still early, though the memorable sinking of
the sun behind the proud mountain range,
protector of this particular lake country
hamlet, suggested otherwise.
The rich, pervasive colors seeped into the
'fresher, casting a pleasant shading over the
pastel-bathed tiles of milky mauve-pink and
forest green. Exhaling deeply, Padme shut
her eyes, and mirthfully let the massaging
spray of water enthrall her. Hiking through
said countryside was hard work. Out of shape,
she certainly wasn't, but keeping up with a
toned and honed Jedi was another story.
Muscles that had long been neglected were
whining their soreness to every nerve. The
gentle pound of the watery flue upon one
very tired body was balmic.
All was liquid bliss until the spray
sputtered, then failed. Padme opened her
eyes with a twisted scowl, just in time to
see the shower nozzle pop off and plummet
to the floor of the stall, just missing her
right foot. Getting angry was easy when
such pleasure is heedlessly ripped away.
"ANI!" With one hand glued to the slippery
wall, and the other stuck on her hip, the
drippy Senator stamped a foot, really
fuming now. "ANI!!" Glaring stonily at the
broken shower head, Padme groused in an
undertone, "When something really needs
fixing, he's never around..." No sooner had
she finished saying so through taut lips, her
handy-fixer-upper's form hazily materialized
beyond the shower's filmy partition.
"You want me, Pad?" He sounded all of
fifteen.
She slid the partition open half-way. "Can
you fix this?" It wasn't a question, more a
demand. She ignored his expectant, 'how
could you have started showering without me?'
expression etched into his face. "Well?"
He kicked off his dusty boots, removed his
nidorous socks which he chucked out the door,
and joined her in the stall. Bending over,
he picked up the shower nozzle and while
examining it, unassumingly asked, "How'd this
happen, anyway?"
"I...don't...know." She had drawn out each
word distinctly through semi-clenched teeth.
What she did know was that she wanted her
reviving water back, and she wanted it right
then and there. "You're the wiz who can fix
everything."
Inwardly, Anakin rebuffed his new bride's
churlish disposition, chalking it up to the
high-level fatigue in her, and set about
fixing what needed his tinkerer's care.
Making deft use of his gifted ability,
he Force-tugged to fully articulate the
see-through flexible pipe and manually
twisted the nozzle back into proper place
until he heard a soft 'click,' which brought
a satisfied smile to his boyish face. Some
things called for the tangibility of the
'hands-on' approach instead of throwing the
invisible power around all the time.
'Fixing things' was his therapy.
"You're all set..." Smiling happily at her,
forgetting that he was still fully clothed,
he opened the faucet, adjusting it back to
the setting he knew she'd had it on. He made
moves to get out, but her restraining hand
gathering his inner tunic, prevented him.
"Where are you going?" Padme tartly asked.
"Uh, well. I was...uh, going to get more
'saber practice in."
As she gleefully began peeling his clothes
off, she titillated, "Stay... Massage my
back... And any other spot you might think
of..." Sidling up to him suggestively,
she murmured, "You've got the magic touch."
Anakin grinned wide, and matching her
enthusiasm, began helping her getting him
naked. She wadded his soaked garments and
tossed them out, then slid the partition
snugly behind her. Standing as nude as she,
he lured, "How about..." Looming into her,
he ran the duo of fore and middle fingers
along the length of her pubic bone, before
dipping both of them into her sensitive,
giving folds. "Here..."
"Oooooh!" Though not having been lovers for
very long, it was amazing how comfortable
they felt with each other. Padme shuddered
into his gentle, but riveting touch, and
willingly allowed him to steer her over
against the warm, opposite wall of the close
stall that was filling up with steam fast.
"Ani," his wife growled into his ear with
her petite arms ringing his neck like rope
made of thick hemp. "Y-you c-can fi...fix
me anyti--" The lively rain of shower
droplets plinked off Anakin's glistening
bronze back, the bands of muscles hard
and bunched, as he carefully, with
deliberate slowness, but indomitable gusto,
slid his stiff ramrod of a shaft into his
incredibly lustful wife.
His methodical, yet tender pumping of her
writhing body increased in intensity as they
moaned and shouted one another's name with
all the abandon their love and hunger for
each other demanded.
Just as another volcanic erupting of Padme's
name was about to tear from Anakin's throat,
a very unexpected voice gripped their ears
which triggered acute 'coitus interruptus.'
"Anakin..."
The bearer of that name's eyes bored deeply
into his wife's pupils, and she returned his
desperate glare, adding a healthy dose of
her own desperation. "Ani...it's, it's..."
she barely breathed.
He melded his body even more securely with
his trembling wife's. Anakin's blurting out
garnered a traumatic pinch to it. He
blanched, then gulped air, and fearfully
burned into Padme's soggy hairline, "OH,
SITH--it's OBI-WAN!"
TITLE: Vision Quested - Part 4
AUTHOR: Sue
E-MAIL: susieqla@yahoo.com
CATEGORY: Rise of The Emperor
KEYWORDS: Romance
SPOILERS: AOTC-Star Wars- Episode II
RATING : PG-13
SUMMARY : Post - ATOC situations and
circumstances.
Disclaimer: The Star Wars Universe is the sole property
of Lucasfilm, Ltd. created by George 'The Visionary'
Lucas; a gifted soul whose deft perceptions have never
dimmed throughout his many inventive years. No profit
is being made by the use of any characters or situations
herein created.
Vision Quested
The splintered sound of her voice matched the
hissing of the waterspray. "Unfreeze yourself,
and stop muttering, 'Oh, Sith, oh, Sith,
oh...Sith." Padme pried herself from Anakin's
stranglehold. "We've got to do something--" she
wheezed, "and do something quick!" It was a good
thing Anakin's body blocked hers from Obi-Wan's
inquisitive view.
Her husband just nodded in dumb recognition of her
being absolutely right about that. At least she had
remembered to say, 'we.' If the truth were about to
be discovered, within the next moment, at least
they'd sink in it together. It was not a very
comforting assurance, though. Discovery meant the end
of everything they had worked so hard to attain over
the years.
What do do? Leaping Gundarks! Now, that was the catch.
Padme backed away from Anakin, staring at him
unblinkingly. Once she'd meshed herself against the
far wall, and with meaningful eye-casts downward at his
still swollen genitals, she ordered through another
hiss, "Fantasizing..." Then she skulked over to where
the wall lent some partial obscuring of her sleek form,
and waited to hear her husband's crafting of fiction.
Fiction that had better save their sorry butts.
Anakin gulped, ruing how much he hated lying to his
Master. He had not since their run-in with the Heiii,
a people who did nothing but sling falsehoods around
like smooth, fire-able pebbles on Rappiyak. This time
when Obi-Wan barked his name, he found his tongue.
"Y-yes, Ma-Master. I...I'm here." He gave his
distended, tumescent sex organ, which seemed to have
the Force of its own accord, and which throbbed
painfully in his hand, another sharp yank. Dutifully,
like a man, a sweaty, frustrated man, he slid the
partition away to reveal himself to his mentor whose
intruding presence was the essence of bad timing.
If ever there was a time for inventive shielding
against his Master's invasive probing, now was
*that* time, both thumbs up. Lying wasn't an option;
he had made it his personal goal to quit. So...he
wasn't about to lie. Not outrightly, per se, if he
shaped the truth just right.
"Well, that's one way of handling your..." The
slight ballooning of Obi-Wan's right cheek had
his tongue to thank for its bulge. Anakin did not
appreciate Obi-Wan's smug look, nor his wispy
chuckling behind his hand. "Uh...*situation* as far
as your infatuation with the Senator is concerned."
Kenobi's eyes twitched in merriment.
"She *does* have this effect on me, Master," Anakin
openly confessed, handing Obi-Wan a good deal of
his smirking right back to him. "I'll be the first
one to freely admit that," the helplessly-aroused
young Jedi said with a blatant glint in his wide
eyes. He slanted a look askance, and Obi-Wan saw
him grin, the grin having originated in his eyes
and sugarcoating his entire countenance.
His wife blew him a gentle kiss.
"Really, Anakin, I see that's a habit you're having
a very hard time, no pun intended, outgrowing."
"You wouldn't want me whoring around, Master, would
you?" Anakin needled tartly.
Avidly, Padme shook her head at her sassy spouse,
indicating a definitive--'No!'
"Let's drop the subject for the time being," Obi-Wan
hedged. "Where is the Senator, and why are you
taking a shower in *her* 'fresher?'"
Padme's lower set of teeth worried her upper lip
before sinking them into it. The willy-nilly
butterflies in her stomach were all agog, and the
sensation was making her feel quite ill.
Following several more dry gulps, Anakin replied,
sounding somewhat shaky, "She uh. She. Isn't.
She isn't far, Master." The bombarded apprentice
upped the fortification of his shield, and prayed
for the best.
"Where, precisely?" Obi-Wan finagled.
Stubborn to the last, Anakin shrugged, still unwilling
to impede the immuring of his secretive thoughts.
Brusquely, he requested that his Master, steeped as
he was in sizing him up, hand him a towel, before
he cared to surrender any last vestige of dignity.
Obi-Wan obliged, and while handing it off to him said,
"This is *not* an interrogation. Stop making it one."
Anakin paused briefly, as though he was trying to
remember something, before vacating the close stall.
He swaddled himself with the fleecy amber-cream
material with the buttery feel, brushing past Obi-Wan
on his way through the door, which connected to the
sitting room, that was half ajar.
'That was close...' He ambled out onto the canopied
little balcony, tucking as he went, and breathed in
the earthy aromas of early evening. 'It sure got
stuffy in there...' Sighing, he turned around to
face his mentor. More like confront, his mind
rekindled. "She's somewhere, Master. I sense
somewhere close by. I've gotten into the habit of
giving her some privacy. Needed space. She said I
was getting on her nerves, never giving her any time
alone."
At the beginning of his assignment, before they had
flown off to Tatooine to attend to the urgent matter
of his mother, that had been gospel.
Smiling, Padme slipped out of the shower stall on
tiptoes. Creeping, at first, but emboldening herself
then, she streaked, in both a literal and descriptive
vein, past the conversing Jedi who were engrossed in
their private conversation.
Her husband, however, was keenly attuned to her nubile
aura when she had dashed by. She made a beeline into
her spacious walk-in closet, immediately shutting its
door after herself. She passed her palm over the inset
saucer contact to subtly illuminate the ample storage
space.
Gratefully, she breathed a welcomed sigh of relief.
It was only now, sheltered by the racks, rows and
shelves of her finery that she felt better secure.
"Phew," she breathed, that *was* close. But she
wondered how long it would be before everyone
strategic in their lives knew their story.
A story she hoped would have a happy ending,
although happiness was a fleeting thing, at best,
but all too easy to get used to.
Having selected a light magenta, small-bodiced frock
with a square neckline and satiny finish, she studied
it, and was suddenly bowled over by the thought that
she didn't care who found out, nor when. Not now,
not anymore. The worse that could happen was their
forfeiting their career choices. They would still
have each other.
Anakin made her happy, and that was all that mattered,
when all was said and done. Having agreed to become
his wife had been the best decision she'd ever made,
excepting perhaps her vetoing the Military Creation Act,
which she haltingly realized was no longer an issue for
debate.
All those endless months of ongoing tailoring of the
legislative process out the window. Padme shook her
head, then tilting it over to the left she made a face
at her jacket collection.
No one had ever, nor ever would make her feel the way
he did. That was that; take it or leave it. Her
attitude, for better or for worse, and come the great
beyond, or a raging flood, she would stick to it.
Granted, maybe right this moment wasn't the most
efficacious time nor place to 'spill the jawabeans,'
but when, or if the time came, they'd grip the bone
of contention with both sets of hands, and deal with
their close-minded corner of the universe to *their*
satisfactions, most of all.
Everyone else, excepting her understanding parents
and her congratulatory siblings, who had, which could
be likened to miraculously, all taken a lustrous shine
to her virile marriage mate, could go sunbathing on
Hoth in the dead of flash-frozen season in their
collective birthday suits.
Her family! Her well-meaning, 'oops, a secret you
said,' kin. Well, sure. Without a doubt, their
secret didn't stand a snowflake's chance in the lava
pits of Volcania, the hottest planetoid in the Outer
Rim, now. But, was that a gigantic surprise? Her
family...all good people who happened to have big
mouths.
Despite some niggling reservations on both their parts,
they decided her family had to be told. After all, it
wasn't every day that a favorite child wed.
Padme wondered out loud whether Obi-Wan already knew,
and that was the reason for his hunting them up in her
boudoir, adjoined to the 'fresher.
Reassessment of things put a damper on her self-
confident spirit yet again. She didn't worry so much
for herself. She fretted for her sweetie and his being
booted from the Jedi Order. He'd take it hard. Despite
his boisterous denials, she just knew he would. She had
a nagging feeling about it.
'Yoda has always been in my corner,' she reflected in
hope. 'Maybe I could convince him somehow that our
marriage won't be detrimental to Ani's devotion to the
Order...'
In fact, all things considered, perhaps she could
convince the Council that Anakin's being a happily-
married man should be seen as a positive thing.
'Strong motivation for him to really buckle down,
pass his Trials, and get on with the serious business
of defending the galaxy.' She nodded in satisfaction
coming into its own fruition.
She was blessed with the gift of being effectively
persuasive. And it was known that she'd had Yoda's
ear on various occasions. It seemed a plan to her.
She would plead their vested interest to Yoda, and
get the collective body of the the Jedi Masters to
see things Anakin's and her way.
It might be a tall order, but she had convinced
herself that she could do it.
"Well," Kenobi said with a blithe turn of his tone,
"you are here, serving as her bodyguard."
"Of course, Master, but sitting in on girl-talk with
her sister Sola, and their twin cousins Brea and
Twyla, isn't their idea of quality time. Nor mine.
Protecting from afar is still protecting, Master."
Kenobi didn't have a ready answer for Anakin's
patently glib rhetoric. "So, she's off chitchatting
with family members, eh?"
Again, the apprentice shrugged, hiking the towel up
over his budding nipples. The air was turning colder.
Kenobi spied his lightly-shivering learner's clothes
in a heap, went to get them. "She wanted me to fix
the nozzle on her showerhead. It had fallen off.
After doing so, she said I could use her shower.
The spray is stronger than the one in my 'fresher.
We went for a hike earlier today. I really needed a
good massaging, so I took her up on her kind offer."
The Senator had opened the closet door a crack, just
in time for her to overhear him give this handy excuse.
It was amazing how well voices carried when one
strained to listen.
"I'm surprised you didn't ask her to join you," Kenobi
quipped, stoking Anakin's look of naivete unbounded,
with his own of subliminal expectation. Padme made
a choking noise. Obi-Wan chuckled deep within his
throat. "Phrased in the inimitable style of our
illustrious green Council member--who kicks serious
buttock..." He cleared his voice, for the transition.
"'Admire your self-control, I do.'"
The colorful rendition did their gimmer stick-toting
savior due justice.
"Master!" Anakin trumped, "What in the name of the
Force are you saying?"
"Well, we aren't an Order of celibates, Padawan."
"You could've fooled me, Master..."
(I have never fooled you, nor anyone, Anakin. Most of
all, you.)
Capturing the thought which Obi-Wan, with a sheer
elegance, had planted, his apprentice had no other
recourse but to nod for the sake of harmony, agreeing.
As was so often the case, this time acceptance of a
Kenobian idea wasn't the usual chore it often was.
Maybe the meeting of their minds wasn't such a remote
concept as it had once been on a regular basis, when
taking Anakin on as apprentice.
"At least in the strictest sense of the precept."
Kenobi pulled on his beard, and stared out into the
night sky, a pensive expression filling his eyes.
"Celibacy is generally a matter of personal preference.
Not a hard and fast rule. And does readily lend itself
to various interpretations."
"But you do practice it, Master."
"My personal choice. The idea of 'whoring around,' as
you so indelicately put it, has never held any
outstanding appeal for me. I'm a Jedi Knight, not
some shiftless lover boy."
"Nor I." Anakin's eyes lit up as he was handed his
damp clothing.
"Good. Now, get dressed, and we'll locate the missing
Senator. I have some news of the latest Senate
proceedings I'm sure she'll find of interest." Kenobi's
alert eyes followed his apprentice back into the
softly-lit boudoir just before the door where he paused,
presumably to begin clothing himself, or so Obi-Wan
surmised.
"Master?"
"Yes, Anakin?"
"I need a drier change of clothes. I'll catch cold."
"I was just thinking that." He fingered the overtunic.
The teacher had his pupil's scuffed boots, together
with the socks stuffed deep inside them, tucked under
his right arm. "Your lightsaber's a little moist.
Good way to ruin it." Kenobi gripped the weapon's
slick handle while entertaining wistful thoughts of
how one day his learner would treat his most valuable
possession to the higher concern it deserved. Pipe
dreams served their purposes, he soberingly assessed.
Anakin softened his grimace which had fallen victim
to his sheepish expression. "Come with me to my room,
Obi-Wan. We can talk on the way." Anakin secured the
towel more snugly around his lean, muscular frame.
"Good idea." Allowing a beat of silence to intervene,
before they walked out of the bedroom, the Jedi Master
furthered, "So, are you enjoying your sojourn on Naboo
thus far?"
The young wife was in denial. But it was denial with
a plus. Obi-Wan knew nothing... 'Yet,' Padme
marveled. 'Let's see how long it lasts.'
She shut the door of her closet again, still being
careful not to make a sound. The shoes she selected
complemented the vibrant color of her dress perfectly,
and as she slipped her feet into them, she orchestrated
in her mind's eye how the rest of the evening would go.
The three of them would dine in the room overlooking
the lake where Anakin had showily used the Force to
impress her with his ability to snatch fruit off her
plate.
And after a Nubian hour or two of polite conversation,
rounded out by some virtuoso liotia playing by
Avi-Caul, the indentured servant who'd been with the
family since Padme's birth, it would be time for bed.
Frowning, Padme decided the shoes she'd chosen weren't
suitable after all; too drab for an evening shared with
such engaging company. She'd choose another dress too.
Once she'd made sure that the men had left her rooms,
she would get into some undergarments. She disliked
wearing a discriminatingly-fitted dress without wearing
anything beneath.
Stepping out of the shoes, her frown deepened. 'Separate
beds tonight? No snuggling snugly into her moldable
Ani while he gently rocked her to sleep?' Her
entertaining that prohibition worked her face into a
seedy scowl. The prospect of sleeping alone in a lonely
bed was nothing to look forward to.
No... Not at all.
--____--
'Keeping up appearances,' Padme thought calmly as she
leisurely sipped more flavorful safloopial tea. She
stirred it a little, her eyes never wavering from
her husband's animated face, and decided the
remainder of the blend in her floral-decorated cup
needed a bit more sweetner. Ah...much better, and
she savored the rich bouquet before downing the rest.
She dabbed a small drop of the brew from a spot close
to the left corner of her mouth, and smiled.
The sudden shift in the broad conversation had Anakin
all excited. "So let me get this straight, Master...
A Jedi can have as many romantic liasons as she or he
wishes. That's all right." A simple nod was Kenobi's
reply. "But, if the Jedi wishes to marry the partner,
that is forbidden." Anakin came up for air, looking
as if he'd just swum the length of the lake entirely
underwater. His lungs ached, his thrumming brain felt
as though it was caught up in a whirlwind.
--Focus-- he upbraided himself. --Focus--
The Force absorbed his overflow of volatility.
"The unconditional attachment is the natural
consequence," Kenobi emphasized matter-of-factly, as,
much to his sudden consternation, a lovely cerebral
manifestation of Sairena squeezed past his mental
shielding. Sternly, he draped ambiguity over it, and
tamped it back down to where it safely belonged before
his apprentice's swift perception was all over it.
The newlywed threw his wife a heated look that without
a doubt conveyed, 'that is so crazy. Right?'
Padme, by way of wriggling her nose at her man a little,
but keeping the circumspect look on her face plastered
in place, showed she was thinking along those same lines.
So much so that...she wondered...
Would her husband know her unspoken desire if she
whispered it within the depths of her mind? Yeah,
right. He was the Jedi not she. Oh well, here went
nothing.
(Ani, I really think we should tell Obi-Wan.)
Her addled sigh filled the stately drawing room.
"Whose Sithy idea was that?" Anakin huffed. "Ancient
Masters who had backward senses of no humor? Or even
worse. Moral misfits."
"Anakin!" Obi-Wan censured.
Abruptly, the upstart shut his mouth, not so much
because of the way his Master had boomed his name.
What else was new? Skywalker gawked at his bride.
The Light Side of the Force! He had heard her, and
it startled him to realize that some form of mind-link,
a tad fuzzy, granted, but it was in place, had
developed between them. How was it possible? Hard to
believe, but he heard her again.
(I think we'd have a ready ally in our dear Obi-Wan...)
Anakin blanched for two reasons; divulging their big
hot secret, and...and... This! More, and more giving
his beloved the 'midi-chlo' screening seemed the way to
go. He smiled bedevilingly at her.
A little test right now...
(Well, I *don't*)
(Well, *I* **do**)
Padme looked the picture of unflappable, as though they
had always communicated like this.
Anakin nibbled the lower inside pocket of his cheek.
(Pad, babe, can we have this discussion someplace else?
If we're not careful, you know who'll be controlling
this wordless conversation next... You think I'm
kidding, but I'm *not* and telling Obi-Wan is a real
bad idea. **Real-bad**)
(You're such an alarmist, and why do you thrive on being
so stubborn??)
(*Me*... Lucious-lips...I've given up arguing with you.
*Remember?*)
The newlyweds sat tight-lippedly glaring at each other.
(Let's not fight, Pad...sweetie...let's just love each
other like crazy. Okay? Let's just shut everybody else
out.)
(We're not fighting. We're discussing this in a cool,
calm manner. If we tell, I promise you a better night
than our last one.)
Anakin, his thoughts suddenly jumbled, felt about ready
to pass out.
Obi-Wan had no clue about what to make of their sudden
unwillingness to say anything. He made the effort to
steer the verbal conversation to calmer shores. His
volant apprentice could be downright Wampa-headed at the
pleasantest of times. Why was it his main aim in this
life to disrupt tranquility every chance he got?
"So..." their patient friend with amusement capering in
his eyes began tentatively, "You'll never guess what
Jar-Jar's been up to lately..."
Husband and wife agreed on one thing, with a joint
crossing of their eyes, and glaring at Kenobi then,
instead. In unison they said, "Do we have to go *there,*
Obi-Wan?"
TITLE: Vision Quested - Part 4
The splintered sound of her voice matched the
hissing of the waterspray. "Unfreeze yourself,
and stop muttering, 'Oh, Sith, oh, Sith,
oh...Sith." Padme pried herself from Anakin's
stranglehold. "We've got to do something--" she
wheezed, "and do something quick!" It was a good
thing Anakin's body blocked hers from Obi-Wan's
inquisitive view.
Her husband just nodded in dumb recognition of her
being absolutely right about that. At least she had
remembered to say, 'we.' If the truth were about to
be discovered, within the next moment, at least
they'd sink in it together. It was not a very
comforting assurance, though. Discovery meant the end
of everything they had worked so hard to attain over
the years.
What do do? Leaping Gundarks! Now, that was the catch.
Padme backed away from Anakin, staring at him
unblinkingly. Once she'd meshed herself against the
far wall, and with meaningful eye-casts downward at his
still swollen genitals, she ordered through another
hiss, "Fantasizing..." Then she skulked over to where
the wall lent some partial obscuring of her sleek form,
and waited to hear her husband's crafting of fiction.
Fiction that had better save their sorry butts.
Anakin gulped, ruing how much he hated lying to his
Master. He had not since their run-in with the Heiii,
a people who did nothing but sling falsehoods around
like smooth, fire-able pebbles on Rappiyak. This time
when Obi-Wan barked his name, he found his tongue.
"Y-yes, Ma-Master. I...I'm here." He gave his
distended, tumescent sex organ, which seemed to have
the Force of its own accord, and which throbbed
painfully in his hand, another sharp yank. Dutifully,
like a man, a sweaty, frustrated man, he slid the
partition away to reveal himself to his mentor whose
intruding presence was the essence of bad timing.
If ever there was a time for inventive shielding
against his Master's invasive probing, now was
*that* time, both thumbs up. Lying wasn't an option;
he had made it his personal goal to quit. So...he
wasn't about to lie. Not outrightly, per se, if he
shaped the truth just right.
"Well, that's one way of handling your..." The
slight ballooning of Obi-Wan's right cheek had
his tongue to thank for its bulge. Anakin did not
appreciate Obi-Wan's smug look, nor his wispy
chuckling behind his hand. "Uh...*situation* as far
as your infatuation with the Senator is concerned."
Kenobi's eyes twitched in merriment.
"She *does* have this effect on me, Master," Anakin
openly confessed, handing Obi-Wan a good deal of
his smirking right back to him. "I'll be the first
one to freely admit that," the helplessly-aroused
young Jedi said with a blatant glint in his wide
eyes. He slanted a look askance, and Obi-Wan saw
him grin, the grin having originated in his eyes
and sugarcoating his entire countenance.
His wife blew him a gentle kiss.
"Really, Anakin, I see that's a habit you're having
a very hard time, no pun intended, outgrowing."
"You wouldn't want me whoring around, Master, would
you?" Anakin needled tartly.
Avidly, Padme shook her head at her sassy spouse,
indicating a definitive--'No!'
"Let's drop the subject for the time being," Obi-Wan
hedged. "Where is the Senator, and why are you
taking a shower in *her* 'fresher?'"
Padme's lower set of teeth worried her upper lip
before sinking them into it. The willy-nilly
butterflies in her stomach were all agog, and the
sensation was making her feel quite ill.
Following several more dry gulps, Anakin replied,
sounding somewhat shaky, "She uh. She. Isn't.
She isn't far, Master." The bombarded apprentice
upped the fortification of his shield, and prayed
for the best.
"Where, precisely?" Obi-Wan finagled.
Stubborn to the last, Anakin shrugged, still unwilling
to impede the immuring of his secretive thoughts.
Brusquely, he requested that his Master, steeped as
he was in sizing him up, hand him a towel, before
he cared to surrender any last vestige of dignity.
Obi-Wan obliged, and while handing it off to him said,
"This is *not* an interrogation. Stop making it one."
Anakin paused briefly, as though he was trying to
remember something, before vacating the close stall.
He swaddled himself with the fleecy amber-cream
material with the buttery feel, brushing past Obi-Wan
on his way through the door, which connected to the
sitting room, that was half ajar.
'That was close...' He ambled out onto the canopied
little balcony, tucking as he went, and breathed in
the earthy aromas of early evening. 'It sure got
stuffy in there...' Sighing, he turned around to
face his mentor. More like confront, his mind
rekindled. "She's somewhere, Master. I sense
somewhere close by. I've gotten into the habit of
giving her some privacy. Needed space. She said I
was getting on her nerves, never giving her any time
alone."
At the beginning of his assignment, before they had
flown off to Tatooine to attend to the urgent matter
of his mother, that had been gospel.
Smiling, Padme slipped out of the shower stall on
tiptoes. Creeping, at first, but emboldening herself
then, she streaked, in both a literal and descriptive
vein, past the conversing Jedi who were engrossed in
their private conversation.
Her husband, however, was keenly attuned to her nubile
aura when she had dashed by. She made a beeline into
her spacious walk-in closet, immediately shutting its
door after herself. She passed her palm over the inset
saucer contact to subtly illuminate the ample storage
space.
Gratefully, she breathed a welcomed sigh of relief.
It was only now, sheltered by the racks, rows and
shelves of her finery that she felt better secure.
"Phew," she breathed, that *was* close. But she
wondered how long it would be before everyone
strategic in their lives knew their story.
A story she hoped would have a happy ending,
although happiness was a fleeting thing, at best,
but all too easy to get used to.
Having selected a light magenta, small-bodiced frock
with a square neckline and satiny finish, she studied
it, and was suddenly bowled over by the thought that
she didn't care who found out, nor when. Not now,
not anymore. The worse that could happen was their
forfeiting their career choices. They would still
have each other.
Anakin made her happy, and that was all that mattered,
when all was said and done. Having agreed to become
his wife had been the best decision she'd ever made,
excepting perhaps her vetoing the Military Creation Act,
which she haltingly realized was no longer an issue for
debate.
All those endless months of ongoing tailoring of the legislative process out the window. Padme shook her head, then tilting it over to the left she made a face at her jacket collection.
No one had ever, nor ever would make her feel the way
he did. That was that; take it or leave it. Her
attitude, for better or for worse, and come the great
beyond, or a raging flood, she would stick to it.
Granted, maybe right this moment wasn't the most
efficacious time nor place to 'spill the jawabeans,'
but when, or if the time came, they'd grip the bone
of contention with both sets of hands, and deal with
their close-minded corner of the universe to *their* satisfactions, most of
all.
Everyone else, excepting her understanding parents
and her congratulatory siblings, who had, which could
be likened to miraculously, all taken a lustrous shine
to her virile marriage mate, could go sunbathing on
Hoth in the dead of flash-frozen season in their
collective birthday suits.
Her family! Her well-meaning, 'oops, a secret you
said,' kin. Well, sure. Without a doubt, their
secret didn't stand a snowflake's chance in the lava
pits of Volcania, the hottest planetoid in the Outer
Rim, now. But, was that a gigantic surprise? Her
family...all good people who happened to have big
mouths.
Despite some niggling reservations on both their parts,
they decided her family had to be told. After all, it
wasn't every day that a favorite child wed.
Padme wondered out loud whether Obi-Wan already knew,
and that was the reason for his hunting them up in her
boudoir, adjoined to the 'fresher.
Reassessment of things put a damper on her self-
confident spirit yet again. She didn't worry so much
for herself. She fretted for her sweetie and his being
booted from the Jedi Order. He'd take it hard. Despite
his boisterous denials, she just knew he would. She had
a nagging feeling about it.
'Yoda has always been in my corner,' she reflected in
hope. 'Maybe I could convince him somehow that our
marriage won't be detrimental to Ani's devotion to the Order...'
In fact, all things considered, perhaps she could
convince the Council that Anakin's being a happily-
married man should be seen as a positive thing.
'Strong motivation for him to really buckle down,
pass his Trials, and get on with the serious business
of defending the galaxy.' She nodded in satisfaction
coming into its own fruition.
She was blessed with the gift of being effectively
persuasive. And it was known that she'd had Yoda's
ear on various occasions. It seemed a plan to her.
She would plead their vested interest to Yoda, and
get the collective body of the the Jedi Masters to
see things Anakin's and her way.
It might be a tall order, but she had convinced
herself that she could do it.
"Well," Kenobi said with a blithe turn of his tone,
"you are here, serving as her bodyguard."
"Of course, Master, but sitting in on girl-talk with
her sister Sola, and their twin cousins Brea and
Twyla, isn't their idea of quality time. Nor mine.
Protecting from afar is still protecting, Master."
Kenobi didn't have a ready answer for Anakin's
patently glib rhetoric. "So, she's off chitchatting
with family members, eh?"
Again, the apprentice shrugged, hiking the towel up
over his budding nipples. The air was turning colder.
Kenobi spied his lightly-shivering learner's clothes
in a heap, went to get them. "She wanted me to fix
the nozzle on her showerhead. It had fallen off.
After doing so, she said I could use her shower.
The spray is stronger than the one in my 'fresher.
We went for a hike earlier today. I really needed a
good massaging, so I took her up on her kind offer."
The Senator had opened the closet door a crack, just
in time for her to overhear him give this handy excuse.
It was amazing how well voices carried when one
strained to listen.
"I'm surprised you didn't ask her to join you," Kenobi
quipped, stoking Anakin's look of naivete unbounded,
with his own of subliminal expectation. Padme made
a choking noise. Obi-Wan chuckled deep within his
throat. "Phrased in the inimitable style of our
illustrious green Council member--who kicks serious
buttock..." He cleared his voice, for the transition.
"'Admire your self-control, I do.'"
The colorful rendition did their gimmer stick-toting
savior due justice.
"Master!" Anakin trumped, "What in the name of the
Force are you saying?"
"Well, we aren't an Order of celibates, Padawan."
"You could've fooled me, Master..."
(I have never fooled you, nor anyone, Anakin. Most of
all, you.)
Capturing the thought which Obi-Wan, with a sheer
elegance, had planted, his apprentice had no other
recourse but to nod for the sake of harmony, agreeing.
As was so often the case, this time acceptance of a
Kenobian idea wasn't the usual chore it often was.
Maybe the meeting of their minds wasn't such a remote
concept as it had once been on a regular basis, when
taking Anakin on as apprentice.
"At least in the strictest sense of the precept."
Kenobi pulled on his beard, and stared out into the
night sky, a pensive expression filling his eyes.
"Celibacy is generally a matter of personal preference.
Not a hard and fast rule. And does readily lend itself
to various interpretations."
"But you do practice it, Master."
"My personal choice. The idea of 'whoring around,' as
you so indelicately put it, has never held any
outstanding appeal for me. I'm a Jedi Knight, not
some shiftless lover boy."
"Nor I." Anakin's eyes lit up as he was handed his
damp clothing.
"Good. Now, get dressed, and we'll locate the missing
Senator. I have some news of the latest Senate
proceedings I'm sure she'll find of interest." Kenobi's
alert eyes followed his apprentice back into the
softly-lit boudoir just before the door where he paused, presumably to begin
clothing himself, or so Obi-Wan surmised.
"Master?"
"Yes, Anakin?"
"I need a drier change of clothes. I'll catch cold."
"I was just thinking that." He fingered the overtunic.
The teacher had his pupil's scuffed boots, together
with the socks stuffed deep inside them, tucked under
his right arm. "Your lightsaber's a little moist.
Good way to ruin it." Kenobi gripped the weapon's
slick handle while entertaining wistful thoughts of
how one day his learner would treat his most valuable possession to the higher
concern it deserved. Pipe dreams served their purposes, he soberingly assessed.
Anakin softened his grimace which had fallen victim
to his sheepish expression. "Come with me to my room,
Obi-Wan. We can talk on the way." Anakin secured the
towel more snugly around his lean, muscular frame.
"Good idea." Allowing a beat of silence to intervene,
before they walked out of the bedroom, the Jedi Master furthered, "So,
are you enjoying your sojourn on Naboo thus far?"
The young wife was in denial. But it was denial with
a plus. Obi-Wan knew nothing... 'Yet,' Padme
marveled. 'Let's see how long it lasts.'
She shut the door of her closet again, still being
careful not to make a sound. The shoes she selected complemented the vibrant
color of her dress perfectly, and as she slipped her feet into them, she orchestrated
in her mind's eye how the rest of the evening would go.
The three of them would dine in the room overlooking
the lake where Anakin had showily used the Force to
impress her with his ability to snatch fruit off her
plate.
And after a Nubian hour or two of polite conversation,
rounded out by some virtuoso liotia playing by
Avi-Caul, the indentured servant who'd been with the
family since Padme's birth, it would be time for bed.
Frowning, Padme decided the shoes she'd chosen weren't
suitable after all; too drab for an evening shared with
such engaging company. She'd choose another dress too.
Once she'd made sure that the men had left her rooms,
she would get into some undergarments. She disliked
wearing a discriminatingly-fitted dress without wearing anything beneath.
Stepping out of the shoes, her frown deepened. 'Separate
beds tonight? No snuggling snugly into her moldable
Ani while he gently rocked her to sleep?' Her
entertaining that prohibition worked her face into a
seedy scowl. The prospect of sleeping alone in a lonely
bed was nothing to look forward to.
No... Not at all.
--____--
'Keeping up appearances,' Padme thought calmly as she
leisurely sipped more flavorful safloopial tea. She
stirred it a little, her eyes never wavering from
her husband's animated face, and decided the
remainder of the blend in her floral-decorated cup
needed a bit more sweetner. Ah...much better, and
she savored the rich bouquet before downing the rest.
She dabbed a small drop of the brew from a spot close
to the left corner of her mouth, and smiled.
The sudden shift in the broad conversation had Anakin
all excited. "So let me get this straight, Master...
A Jedi can have as many romantic liasons as she or he
wishes. That's all right." A simple nod was Kenobi's
reply. "But, if the Jedi wishes to marry the partner,
that is forbidden." Anakin came up for air, looking
as if he'd just swum the length of the lake entirely underwater. His lungs ached,
his thrumming brain felt as though it was caught up in a whirlwind.
--Focus-- he upbraided himself. --Focus--
The Force absorbed his overflow of volatility.
"The unconditional attachment is the natural
consequence," Kenobi emphasized matter-of-factly, as,
much to his sudden consternation, a lovely cerebral manifestation of Sairena
squeezed past his mental shielding. Sternly, he draped ambiguity over it, and
tamped it back down to where it safely belonged before his apprentice's swift
perception was all over it.
The newlywed threw his wife a heated look that without
a doubt conveyed, 'that is so crazy. Right?'
Padme, by way of wriggling her nose at her man a little,
but keeping the circumspect look on her face plastered
in place, showed she was thinking along those same lines.
So much so that...she wondered...
Would her husband know her unspoken desire if she
whispered it within the depths of her mind? Yeah,
right. He was the Jedi not she. Oh well, here went
nothing.
(Ani, I really think we should tell Obi-Wan.)
Her addled sigh filled the stately drawing room.
"Whose Sithy idea was that?" Anakin huffed. "Ancient
Masters who had backward senses of no humor? Or even
worse. Moral misfits."
"Anakin!" Obi-Wan censured.
Abruptly, the upstart shut his mouth, not so much
because of the way his Master had boomed his name.
What else was new? Skywalker gawked at his bride.
The Light Side of the Force! He had heard her, and
it startled him to realize that some form of mind-link,
a tad fuzzy, granted, but it was in place, had
developed between them. How was it possible? Hard to
believe, but he heard her again.
(I think we'd have a ready ally in our dear Obi-Wan...)
Anakin blanched for two reasons; divulging their big
hot secret, and...and... This! More, and more giving
his beloved the 'midi-chlo' screening seemed the way to
go. He smiled bedevilingly at her.
A little test right now...
(Well, I *don't*)
(Well, *I* **do**)
Padme looked the picture of unflappable, as though they
had always communicated like this.
Anakin nibbled the lower inside pocket of his cheek.
(Pad, babe, can we have this discussion someplace else?
If we're not careful, you know who'll be controlling
this wordless conversation next... You think I'm
kidding, but I'm *not* and telling Obi-Wan is a real
bad idea. **Real-bad**)
(You're such an alarmist, and why do you thrive on being
so stubborn??)
(*Me*... Lucious-lips...I've given up arguing with you.
*Remember?*)
The newlyweds sat tight-lippedly glaring at each other.
(Let's not fight, Pad...sweetie...let's just love each
other like crazy. Okay? Let's just shut everybody else
out.)
(We're not fighting. We're discussing this in a cool,
calm manner. If we tell, I promise you a better night
than our last one.)
Anakin, his thoughts suddenly jumbled, felt about ready
to pass out.
Obi-Wan had no clue about what to make of their sudden unwillingness to say anything. He made the effort to steer the verbal conversation to calmer shores. His volant apprentice could be downright Wampa-headed at the pleasantest of times. Why was it his main aim in this life to disrupt tranquility every chance he got?
"So..." their patient friend with amusement capering in
his eyes began tentatively, "You'll never guess what
Jar-Jar's been up to lately..."
Husband and wife agreed on one thing, with a joint
crossing of their eyes, and glaring at Kenobi then,
instead. In unison they said, "Do we have to go *there,* Obi-Wan?"
TBC...