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Padmé Amidala Naberrie was many things. Over the years, she had been called a great deal more than she cared to recount in the present moment, though a few choice descriptors came to mind if she allowed her thoughts to wander. A hero. A friend. A trusted colleague. A hindrance. An obstacle. A know-it-all. She considered her wealth of experience and her uncanny ability to, quite frankly, piss off her enemies with little more than a well-timed word or cleverly crafted speech an asset. It was a skill she wielded with precision, honed through years of political battles and personal challenges.
But of all the titles she’d been given throughout her life, the praise, the insults, the accolades and the scorn… there was one thing Padmé Amidala Naberrie had never been called in her twenty-nine years of existence.
An idiot.
A fool.
And there was certainly good reason for that. She had proven her intelligence and resourcefulness time and again, surviving situations purposefully designed to end her life once and for all. Stars only knew how many bounties there were on her head and yet it remained perfectly attached to her neck. She had faced countless dangers, each more harrowing than the last and come out stronger and wiser. Padmé was fairly certain that the relentless stress of her life could claim responsibility for at least half of the grey hairs on her mother’s head.
But that was alright. She always had a plan. And a backup plan. And a backup for the backup. It was how she operated – meticulous, prepared and infuriatingly relentless. Everything always worked out because Padmé knew what to do, no matter the odds.
There wasn't another senator in the entire galaxy, let alone the Senate, who could have endured what she had and still found the strength to stand tall and openly question the Emperor before the day was through. She liked to think her small bursts of defiance brought others a measure of hope – or at the very least, some entertainment. Bail certainly enjoyed chastising her for them afterwards, though she suspected he admired her spirit more than he let on. Their interactions always ended with him smiling despite his utter annoyance with her after all.
Well, she may have faced down illegal occupations, political opposition, been pursued by bounty hunters and survived more assassination attempts than she could bother counting, but today, Padmé Amidala officially declared herself an idiot. An utter moron. A stars-damned nerf-herder. Quite frankly, she was sure there was no one in the galaxy more foolish than she was and if she died… Well, she deserved what she got.
Bail and Mon begged her not to join the ground operation. They insisted their brave volunteers, the Alliance’s dedicated soldiers, were more than capable of handling things without her. But Padmé, with her unshakable belief that there was simply nothing she could not do, wouldn't hear of it. These people were carrying out her plan, she couldn’t just stand by and wait for results, not while others risked their lives to bring her ideas to fruition. She needed to be involved, to take action herself.
She donned the Rebel Alliance uniform and joined the troops on the ground. The mission was straightforward enough, plant bombs along the perimeter of the Fort Ecliptica, the latest Imperial base on Jorath Prime – a grand sprawling project which saw thousands of local citizens and innocent farmers losing their homes and land. Well, she wasn’t about to stand for it. The bombs would destroy the infrastructure before it could evolve into another powerful piece in the Emperor’s never-ending game. And if they decided the cost of rebuilding wasn’t worth the effort and abandoned the project to be reclaimed by the people it once belonged to… even better.
She should have known it was a trap.
Hindsight was a cruel companion. Through its harsh glare, Padmé found herself questioning why they hadn’t thought to probe deeper into the sudden whispers about such a crucial Imperial base appearing from nowhere – one that had supposedly been inspected by Darth Vader himself, a site of personal interest to the Emperor. But the rumours of equipment stockpiles and vital information exchanges had been too tantalizing to resist.
And, truthfully, Padmé hadn’t cared about the risks. If it meant striking a blow against the Emperor and Vader, she had been willing to gamble everything.
Everything was going according to plan… until it wasn’t.
Padmé’s small force of ten found themselves neck-deep in explosives, their hands figuratively and quite literally red, when a small army of stormtroopers descended upon them and alarms began blaring, lights flashing everywhere. The sight of white-armoured soldiers pouring in from every direction sent a jolt of dread through her chest. Just how many of them did they have stationed here?
She tried to count, to assess their chances, to calculate a path to escape or fight their way out, but her cursed pragmatism drowned out any desperate hope. Ten blasters for every one of theirs – those were odds even she couldn’t ignore. Even as her heart roared in protest, desperate to keep fighting, logic sadly prevailed. She could do more as a prisoner than she could dead.
With gritted teeth and burning frustration, Padmé allowed the stormtroopers to strip her of her weapons and drag her and the others inside the base. This isn’t the end, she promised herself, clinging to the possibility that when her team didn't return, Bail, Mon and the others would consider mounting a rescue mission.
And if not... well, overall, it had been a good life.
She might have liked a little more of it – perhaps even some personal growth in areas she rarely allowed herself to dwell on. The idea of a deeper connection to somebody besides her astromech, Artoo, something romantic or thrilling, flickered briefly in her thoughts. But when she finally had her reckoning with whatever gods or goddesses awaited her, her lack of romance would be far down her list of grievances. There were far greater injustices to hold them accountable for first.
But it was on there.
The senator tugged at the cuffs binding her to the interrogation chair, her wrists chafing against the unyielding metal. She twisted and strained, testing every angle, but found no give, no hope of slipping free. If only I could… Her mind raced, recalling the small pin tucked somewhere in her utility belt – the one that might slide into the receptors and jam the mechanism, rendering the cuffs useless. But the belt was gone, confiscated the moment the stormtroopers had dragged her into the base.
Damn.
Padmé’s eyes darted around the stark holding cell, her gaze flitting across the harsh, sterile space. Bright strips of light glared down, illuminating the small metal table and the solitary chair opposite her own. There was nothing else. No tools. No weapons. No escape. She swallowed hard, forcing herself to steady her breathing but a bead of sweat betrayed her growing anxiety.
The Empire had her – the Senator of Naboo – caught red-handed in Rebel Alliance uniform, in the field alongside the very people the Emperor sought to destroy. And her head… her head was filled with their secrets.
Her stomach twisted as the weight of it all settled on her. What if this comes back on Naboo? Would her people suffer for her choices, her mistakes? The thought struck her like a blow. Naboo was Palpatine’s homeworld too, but that vile old man had no loyalty to anyone but himself. His lust for power consumed everything in its path. He wouldn’t hesitate to make an example of her people to frighten others against the hope of the Rebellion.
Padmé’s jaw tightened as she shoved the fear aside. She had made her choice and this was the situation she found herself in because of it. They would get nothing out of her – not even if they brought in the dreaded interrogation droids, with their needles, shocks and endless capacity for suffering.
But there was no agony great enough to force her to betray her friends, to exchange their lives for her own. Let them try. She would meet her death in silence, resolute in the knowledge that others would carry the fight forward. One day, someday, peace, freedom and democracy would return to the galaxy.
Knowing that, Padmé could face whatever came next without faltering.
With no way to measure the passage of time, not even a window, Padmé had no idea whether she’d been confined for minutes or hours. The disorientation gnawed at her, the oppressive silence pressing in from all sides. The air felt stifling, as though it grew heavier with every breath. Her thoughts were churning uncontrollably, spiralling into darker corners with each passing moment. What’s happening to the others? She wondered desperately. The people she’d come here with – were they safe? Were they even alive? The not-knowing was maddening, leaving her alone with her frantic mind, every unanswered question feeding her growing unease.
She needed a distraction, any distraction, even if it came in the form of whatever unpleasant fate awaited her through that sealed door. Anything was better than this agonizing stillness. With nothing else to occupy her, she tried once again to wriggle her wrists free from the cuffs. She twisted and strained, her skin already raw from earlier attempts. But, just like before, the unyielding metal didn’t budge.
Damn it.
Suddenly, the dark doors hissed as they began to slide apart, the sound cutting through the oppressive silence like a blade. Padmé’s shallow breath caught in her throat, her body going rigid as the air in the room seemed to grow impossibly colder. A shadow marched inside, draped in flowing black robes, its face obscured by the deep hood that shrouded any features in darkness. She couldn't make out any distinguishing details, but she didn't need to. She knew exactly who had just entered the room. She'd seen him often enough in holo-images and his description was whispered through the senate.
Darth Vader.
Heir of the Empire. The Emperor’s right hand, his enforcer, his sword and shield.
The air seemed to thicken around him as he strode forward, his presence suffocating. The room seemed to shrink under the weight of his reputation and the promise of violence. Vader was the very embodiment of fear, a figure who had waged unspeakable horrors across the galaxy, leaving brutal devastation in his wake. His mere name conjured images of burning worlds and countless lives snuffed out without hesitation.
No one knew the man. He was a shadow, a ghost, a predator who struck without warning and left nothing but carnage in his wake. To him, death was an art and he was its master.
Padmé’s pulse thundered in her ears as she forced herself to hold his gaze – or at least where his gaze would be, hidden beneath that hood. The danger she was in now felt all too real, pressing down on her like the weight of the galaxy itself. She battled to keep a grip on her strength, on her resolve even as it desperately wanted to leave her. Her friends and their shared dreams were counting on her. She had to remain strong for them.
Padmé wasn't sure what to expect. Immediate violence, perhaps? The hiss of his blood-red lightsaber bursting to life, slicing through her neck before she could scream? A hundred agonizing scenarios unfurled in her mind's eye, each ending with the same pitiful conclusion – her death. She was prepared for it in some ways and yet found herself utterly unready in others. There was so much she hadn't done, so many words left unsaid to the people who mattered most. Regrets were an inevitability of life, she imagined that most people went to their graves carrying one or two - why should she be any different?
“Senator Amidala…” The shadow purred her name, tasting each syllable as though savouring it. His voice was a low rumble, deep and undeniably male, reverberating through the room with quiet menace. Slowly, he began to circle the table, his dark form vanishing whenever he stepped out of the harsh strips of light. Padmé shuddered involuntarily. That voice… she hadn’t known what to expect, but somehow, it wasn’t that. Vader came to a stop directly behind her, denying her the sight of him, forcing her to feel the oppressive weight of his presence instead. She clenched her fists, trying to steady her racing heart, but then came the soft, mocking tut, cutting through the air like a knife. “I expected a great deal more from you…”
His tone dripped with derision, each word a deliberate strike, but instead of deepening Padmé’s fear, it sparked something else entirely – red-hot indignation. It flared up inside her, pushing back the cold grip of terror. Who was he to claim disappointment in her? Did he have any idea how many times she’d stood in the way of his Master’s plans? How many of his people hated her enough to take out bounties on her head? All this time, she’d believed her reputation preceded her, but apparently, it hadn’t reached quite as far as she’d thought.
She strained her neck, attempting to twist around and catch a glimpse of him but the darkness behind her revealed nothing. He was still there, his presence unmistakable, but maddeningly hidden from view. “Well, I’m so sorry I didn’t meet your expectations, Lord Vader,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She just barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes, biting back the impulse. Padmé huffed, glaring at the far wall in frustration since he refused to face her directly. If he wanted to play games, she wasn’t about to cower for his amusement.
“There’s still plenty of time to change my mind,” he chuckled darkly, the sound low and menacing. Padmé flinched as the weight of his gloved hand settled on her shoulder, the leather cold even through her uniform. "But first," Vader continued, his voice a silken snarl, "tell me how the high and mighty Rebel Alliance failed to see the trap I so carefully laid for them. I was sure no one would be foolish enough to follow the crumbs we scattered... Or have you grown that desperate, senator? Clinging to anything, no matter how precarious, in the name of your traitorous hope?"
His words dripped with mockery, his tone designed to needle her, to draw out a spark of anger, a mistake that could reveal something useful. He was toying with her, baiting her, hoping to unravel her composure. But Vader clearly didn’t know who he was dealing with.
Padmé Amidala Naberrie wasn’t so easily manipulated. One didn’t survive a childhood spent as a ruling queen, followed by years of manoeuvring through the treacherous currents of the senate, both before and after the Republic’s fall, without mastering the art of masking one’s true feelings. If Vader truly thought she would fall for his transparent attempt to provoke her, he was sorely mistaken. She forced herself to remain still, her breathing even, her expression calm. Let him believe he had the upper hand. He would soon learn just how much he underestimated her.
Her silence in the room hung heavy, oppressive as if even the air itself had stilled around them. Vader tutted softly, the sound sharp against the quiet. Suddenly, the gloved hand on her shoulder shifted, his fingers tracing a slow path along the curve of her neck and Padmé froze, her breath catching as the leather brushed her skin, trailing higher until it reached her cheek. The touch was soft, almost tender, like a lover’s caress, or at least, a cruel mockery of one.
Padmé shuddered, her heart pounding as his thumb traced the line of her jaw. She didn’t dare move, her body rigid as her mind raced to keep up with the unexpected intimacy of the moment and the sparking little shivers rushing beneath her skin. “You don’t want to talk to me, Senator?” Vader sighed, his voice low, laced with an almost playful disappointment. The breath that followed was warm against her ear and she gasped involuntarily, realizing with a jolt that he had bent down to her level. “Well, that’s no fun,” he murmured, his tone thick with mockery. “I was so looking forward to us playing together.”
Goosebumps raced across her skin and her breathing just refused to settle. This wasn’t the Darth Vader she had expected to face. Where was the cruelty? The unrelenting horror? The agonizing violence? She was caught completely off guard, overwhelmed as this situation defied all her expectations. Of all the ways this encounter could have gone, she wasn’t prepared for any of this.
“You’re wasting your time,” Padmé said, forcing her voice to steady. She mustered every ounce of strength she had, shaping the words carefully, willing them to sound brave. “I won’t tell you a thing – just kill me now and get it over with.” The words fell from her lips, each one sounding like a defiant challenge, but inside, she felt anything but courageous. Her heart raced, her resolve trembling under the weight of his oppressive presence. She could only hope he didn’t see the cracks in her façade or sense them with the mysterious powers he wielded upon the galaxy.
"I'm not going to kill you, Padmé," he whispered, his voice a dark, velvety promise. The warmth of his breath brushed her ear again and she felt the faintest caress of his lips against her skin. A strange, traitorous bloom of heat unfurled deep inside her and she stiffened, horrified by the sensation. No. It wasn’t real – it couldn’t be. She was just overwhelmed, confused. There was no way she could be feeling... that. “I think you and I can work together," Vader continued, his thumb sweeping along her jaw with an unnerving gentleness that sent a riot of unnameable feelings through her. His words hung in the air, heavy with implication. "You give me something I want and in return, I'll give you something you want."
A shudder ran through her, stealing her breath and scattering her thoughts like leaves in the wind. What was that supposed to mean? Padmé’s mind raced faster than she could keep up with, grasping for clarity. She didn’t have anything he wanted – or at least nothing she was willing to give. Yet, despite her better judgment, a dark flicker of curiosity bloomed in her chest. What did Darth Vader think he could offer her? What did he imagine would tempt her to bargain with him?
His lips lingered, less than a breath from her neck, the heat of his presence clouding her thoughts. She clenched her fists, willing herself to stay grounded, to think clearly. What kind of tactic is this? "I won’t tell you a thing," she grit out, her voice sharp and defiant, though it trembled at the edges.
She forced herself to meet the growing storm of emotions head-on, refusing to let his proximity, his words or his touch unnerve her further. But deep down, she couldn’t deny the uncertainty creeping in, the sense that she was stepping into an entirely different kind of battle, one she’d never thought to prepare for.
Vader gave a low, intimate chuckle and released her face but he didn't leave her alone as he rose to his full, imposing height. No, he gently slid the braid containing her thick hair through his gloved fingers. "I don't need information from you, Padmé… I have ten of your weak-minded fools for that. I estimate that four will break as soon as I walk into their cells with an interrogation droid. Two will remain valiantly silent. And the remaining four will crack when they hear the others’ screams.”
Horror churned within Padmé, a sickening storm of guilt and despair. Her thoughts were spiralling, filled with images of her comrades, good, brave people, suffering because of her failure. All of it, every moment of their pain, was because she had been reckless, because she had allowed herself to fall into a trap so blatant she should have seen it before any of this began! She couldn’t bear this.
"Please…" she whispered, her voice breaking, that lone word so fragile and desperate. She tried to say more, to plead her case but the words just wouldn't come. The weight of her guilt pressed down on her, suffocating any hope of speaking. They don’t deserve this. It was her fault, all of it. She should be the only one to face the consequences.
A low, almost erotic groan escaped Vader’s lips, the sound so unexpected that it sent a piercing jolt through her. Her heart skipped a beat and once again, that strange, unwelcome warmth coiled deep inside her, its presence maddening. What was wrong with her?
“You do beg prettily, senator," he murmured, his voice dripping with mockery, yet darkly intimate. The words slid over her like silk and steel, making her breath hitch against her will. "Tell me what you want," he continued his tone a mixture of cruel seduction and malice. “Tell me, and I might be able to make it happen. The Emperor doesn’t know of your presence here… yet.” He leaned closer, the weight of his words pressing against her like a physical force. “We still have time to make a deal,” he said softly, as if the suggestion were a gift, “if it pleases you to do so.”
His words seemed to twist the very air around her, suffocating in their weight and insinuation. Padmé’s pulse raced, her body taut with tension. She clenched her fists tightly, willing herself to push back the overwhelming tide of emotions surging through her – guilt, fear, and that maddening, traitorous warmth that refused to dissipate.
She couldn’t afford to falter, not now, not here. Not in the presence of a monster who wore darkness as if it were part of his very being. There was only one thing she wanted from him, one desperate request she would do anything to see granted. Her friends deserved a chance to live, to walk away unharmed. None of them had done anything wrong. This was her failed plan, her mistake. She was the only one who should face the consequences.
“Let them go.” Her voice was steady, though desperation lingered at its edges. She locked her gaze on where Vader’s eyes would be beneath his hood. Or would be if he was human, no one truly seemed to know. He looked human enough, at least outwardly, but she couldn’t shake the unease of the unknown. “Let those people go, unharmed,” she repeated, her voice stronger this time. “That’s all I want from you.”
The silence that followed was unbearable, pressing down on her like a physical weight. Padmé’s breath caught in her chest as the moments stretched, each one laden with tension. She dreaded what Vader might ask for in return, her mind racing through possibilities. He claimed no interest in the secrets she held and yet the oppressive weight of his presence seemed to contradict that statement.
Deep within, something pulsed – a flicker of suspicion, a warning she couldn’t silence. The heat that coiled in her chest tightened further, a maddening presence that refused to dissipate. How had the tables turned so completely? How had he managed to trap her in this moment, forcing her to plead, to bargain with the devil himself?
Vader took a deliberate step back, then another, granting her a sliver of space. The small distance felt like a reprieve, though it did little to ease the tension throbbing within her. She watched him tip his head slightly, as if considering her words, weighing her plea against his own enigmatic motives. His silence was maddening. Why was he even entertaining this? The Emperor wouldn’t tolerate such a concession, not for prisoners who might hold valuable intelligence. Releasing them would be an act of treason in itself – so why was Vader giving her the option?
And, more chillingly, what price would he demand in return?
Padmé’s gaze remained fixed on him, her thoughts a whirlwind of doubt and speculation. There had to be a reason, some unseen calculation driving his actions. But no matter how desperately she searched his shrouded figure for answers, they remained just out of reach, cloaked in the same impenetrable darkness that surrounded him. Eventually, Vader waved a black-gloved hand and with a mechanical hiss, her cuffs snapped open, freeing her wrists from their merciless grip. Padmé winced as she rubbed at the tender skin, the sting reminding her of just how tightly they'd been bound.
But her relief was fleeting as Vader turned sharply and closed the distance between them in two strides, his hand clamping firmly around her upper arm. “Come with me,” he growled, his tone leaving no room for argument. Padmé didn’t resist. She couldn’t. His strength made it clear that any struggle would be pointless, so she allowed herself to be led from the interrogation chair.
He moved swiftly, pulling her through the stark, white corridors of the base. The blazing overhead lights made her flinch after spending so long in the dim confines of the holding cell. The sterile hallways felt cold and unwelcoming, a stark contrast to the blazing heat of his presence beside her. Stormtroopers on patrol paused as they passed, snapping to attention and bowing their heads in deference. Vader gave no acknowledgement, his silence only adding to the ominous weight of the situation. Padmé's pulse quickened with every step, her mind racing as she tried to decipher his intentions.
They reached the elevator at the end of the hall, its doors sliding open to greet them and Vader ushered her inside. The moment the doors were closed once more, the lift began its ascent. Up and up they climbed, the numbers flashing by as they reached the highest level of the base. When the doors finally sliced open, Padmé was greeted by yet another door – this one locked by a keypad. Vader’s hand shot out, punching in a passcode with precise, deliberate movements. The keypad beeped and the heavy doors parted with a soft whoosh.
Her breath caught as the space beyond was revealed. A vast, expansive living quarters stretched before her, unlike anything she had expected to find in any military base much less one still under construction. The room was luxurious, almost opulent, filled with comforts she hadn’t imagined Vader would have – plush furnishings, sleek surfaces and soft ambient lighting that contrasted sharply with the harsh sterility of the base below.
Her wide eyes took it all in, her heart racing hopelessly as Vader led her further inside.
She was standing inside Darth Vader’s private quarters.
The thought sent a shiver down Padmé’s spine, her mind reeling as she tried to grasp the implications. Why would he bring me here? What could he possibly want?
Vader released her arm and she instinctively stepped away, glancing around the room once more. Her heart raced in her chest as the details of the luxurious space solidified. She had never truly thought about what kind of life Vader might lead, but it certainly wasn’t this. If she’d had to imagine it, Padmé might have pictured something cold and unwelcoming – a dank, shadowy cave befitting the Emperor’s enforcer.
Turning to face him, her lips parted to demand an explanation but the words died in her throat as she caught sight of him. In one smooth motion, Vader reached up and pushed back his hood, letting the thick cloak fall from his body to land in a heap on the floor. All the breath in her body abandoned her at once, her chest tightening as if the room had suddenly been deprived of oxygen.
Vader was human.
Golden curls brushed the nape of his neck, soft and unexpected. His deeply tanned skin, marred here and there by faint scars, bore no resemblance to the grotesque monster she had envisioned. If anything, the marks only added to the dangerous allure of his appearance. And alluring it was. Padmé stared, frozen, her mind struggling to reconcile the man before her with the fearsome figure she had known. His golden eyes gleamed with a predatory edge, their intensity pinning her in place. Full lips, the very ones that had whispered mockery and menace in her ear just moments ago, curved slightly in what might have been amusement… or something darker.
She couldn’t breathe.
This couldn’t be real. If she hadn’t seen him push back the hood with her own eyes, she might have refused to believe it. This was Darth Vader? Her pulse quickened, a chaotic rhythm that refused to settle. Why is my heart racing?
She had always assumed that a person’s appearance might reflect their inner nature, that the terror Vader inspired would be mirrored in his visage. She had expected him to be monstrous, grotesque – a creature whose appearance matched his reputation. But the reality was quite the opposite… And he was young! Shockingly so. Perhaps even a handful of years younger than her.
Where did he come from, she wondered, her thoughts spiralling in every which way. How did the Emperor find this man? She couldn’t look away, her breath shallow and uneven as the truth of his humanity settled over her. It made him no less dangerous – if anything, it made him far more so.
"I will let your little gang of traitors go unharmed," Vader said, his voice low and thick with promise. "I'll even let them believe they escaped on their own." He took a deliberate step closer and though Padmé’s instincts screamed at her to back away, to preserve the space between them, she found herself frozen. The air between them seemed to crackle, hot and charged, as though it carried a storm waiting to break. The word overwhelmed no longer sufficed to describe the maelstrom of feelings roiling within her, feelings she couldn’t name, no, didn’t dare name.
"And in return..." His lips curved into a salacious smirk, a dark, knowing expression that sent a shiver down her spine. Vader raised a hand and cupped her cheek, the black leather cool against her flushed skin. His thumb traced her jaw, lingering with a touch far too intimate. Those golden eyes burned as they gazed into hers, a searing heat within them that left her breathless. "…you’ll give yourself to me," he said, the words a dark promise that stole the air from her lungs. “You’ll come to bed with me and won’t leave until we’re both fully sated.”
Her lip trembled, and she bit down on it instinctively, struggling to contain the whimper threatening to escape her throat. But Vader wasn’t having it. His gloved thumb moved with precision, gently freeing her lip from the grasp of her teeth, his own tongue darting out to wet his lips. The hunger in his gaze, in his movements, was undeniable. And Padmé could do nothing but stand there, her heart pounding wildly, caught between fear, defiance, and something far more dangerous.
Blazing, forbidden temptation surged through her body, a heat so intense it made her skin prickle. What’s wrong with me? Her mind screamed, warring against the traitorous rush of sensation. She couldn’t do this – she wouldn’t. This all had to be some cruel joke, some elaborate trick designed to humiliate her before her inevitable death.
And yet, as much as she wanted to dismiss it, she didn’t need powers to see the raw desire burning in Vader’s golden eyes. It was undeniable, potent enough to make her breath hitch, her chest tightening as the air grew heavy around them. The dark suspicion that this might be his intention all along had lingered in the corners of her mind, a whisper she had refused to fully entertain until now. He wants me more than he wants to gain an advantage against the Alliance. The thought now blazed to the forefront, undeniable and unnerving. But believing it, truly believing it, was almost impossible.
“You… you don’t even know me…” she whispered, her voice barely audible as her mind scrambled to regain control.
Vader’s lips curled into a knowing smirk. He didn’t reply, not at first. Instead, he moved behind her with deliberate ease, the tension between them thick enough to feel like a physical force. Padmé tensed as his gloved hand brushed her braid, sweeping it over her shoulder to expose the vulnerable curve of her neck. She swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her ears. “That’s not true,” he murmured, his voice low and sinuous, just before his lips pressed against the pulse point in her neck. The touch sent a jolt through her, and despite every effort to stay silent, a small, involuntary noise escaped her lips. "I know plenty about you, senator," he continued, his words a dark promise that sent another shiver racing down her spine.
Padmé’s mind whirled, a chaotic storm of disbelief and confusion. She struggled to reconcile the moment, to make sense of what was happening, but the fire coursing through her veins and the suffocating weight of his presence made rational thought almost impossible right now. A breathy sound escaped her lips, unbidden, as Vader’s arm snaked around her waist, pulling her firmly back against him. The heat of his body burned through the layers of her clothing, her every nerve attuned to his movements.
His lips were relentless on her neck, trailing kisses, licks and the occasional nip of teeth that sent an overwhelming wave of pure lust burning through her. Padmé’s legs trembled, threatening to give way beneath her. If it weren’t for his arm anchoring her, she might have collapsed entirely.
It felt… so good. Too good.
But it was wrong. So wrong.
She couldn’t do this! Every fibre of her being screamed against it. This was a betrayal of everything she stood for – the Republic, freedom, justice… All the ideals she had fought for, sacrificed for! How could she let this happen? And yet, the memory of his promise echoed in her mind. He had said he would let her group go. He'd promised to release them unharmed, even let them believe they had escaped on their own.
Could she trust him?
Her thoughts churned, a desperate attempt to grasp some semblance of control but then his gloved hand splayed against her stomach, firm and possessive. The touch sent another wave of conflicting emotions crashing over her, leaving her breathless and reeling.
Padmé no longer knew what to think, what to feel. She was caught between the undeniable pull of his presence and the suffocating weight of her own principles, her resolve threatening to shatter beneath the intensity of it all. "Release them," she panted, her voice trembling but firm. She couldn’t allow herself to give in fully – not yet. If Vader wanted her, he would have to hold up his end of the bargain first. Only after her friends were safe could she begin to shut off her mind and let her body take over where her resolve was faltering. She wouldn’t let herself be used without securing their freedom first. “Set them free now and then we can... consider.”
Vader’s low chuckle rumbled through the air, dark and mocking, sending a spark of heat straight between her legs. The reaction made her pulse quicken, her face flushing with shame, but she shoved those feelings down, burying them under a growing list of excuses she could cling to later.
We’re at war, she reasoned. People do crazy things in the heat of battle. And she was tired, so, so tired of fighting, of sacrificing, of feeling like the weight of the galaxy rested squarely on her shoulders. Maybe she just needed to feel something, anything, even if it was with… him. And it certainly didn’t hurt that Vader was, perhaps, the most devastatingly handsome man she had ever laid eyes on.
So she steeled herself, setting her shoulders and breathing deeply as she let her resolve begin to crumble. Let him smear the blood on his hands all over me – just this once. I can take it. After all, a former child queen, current senator, and not-so-secret Rebel Alliance member could afford a sin or two, couldn’t she? She would learn to live with herself later. Padmé’s heart jolted as a soft beep broke the tension. She hadn’t noticed Vader pull out a commlink, but now it sat in his hand, his thumb pressing the activation button. “Release the prisoners,” he commanded calmly. "And don't be seen doing it. Let them find their own way out. Wait five minutes before setting off the alarms."
“It will be done, my lord,” came the crisp reply on the other end, the voice crackling faintly through the device. Padmé’s heart soared, relief flooding her body with an almost overwhelming lightness. Her friends were going to be free! Whatever came next, whatever price she had to pay, at least she had secured their safety.
“Now… you’re mine,” Vader breathed, his voice low and possessive. Before she could respond, his gloved hand tilted her face just enough for his lips to claim hers in a fierce, unrelenting kiss. The force of it stole her breath and she gasped, only to whimper moments later as his teeth tugged at her lower lip.
He devoured her.
Vader kissed her with a ferocity she had never experienced before, like he needed her more than his next breath. As if she were the sole key to his survival. The intensity of it left her reeling, her mind blank as her body utterly betrayed her. When his tongue swept into her mouth, she couldn’t stop the small, desperate moan that escaped her lips, muffled against his. And, as if some unseen switch was flipped inside her, everything else faded.
Her friends, the war, the Empire – even the moral compass that had guided her every decision – were silenced. There was only him, only this. Her tongue met his in a heated, reckless rhythm and she melted against him, her resolve crumbling like ash in a flame. Without thinking, her free hand reached behind her, fingers threading through the surprising softness of his hair. The touch was intimate, grounding in a way that both soothed and electrified her.
Why does this feel so good?
Her heart stuttered, caught between the unbearable wrongness of the moment and the undeniable pull of desire coursing through her. Everything about this was abhorrent, a betrayal of everything she believed in. And yet, against all reason, it felt like nothing she had ever known before… She wanted more. She was helpless, pliant and stars save her… so damn turned on.
She turned in Vader’s arms, allowing the dark lord to guide their bodies through the labyrinth of rooms he claimed as his own. Whether it was his intimate familiarity with the space or the aid of his mysterious powers, Padmé was grateful they didn’t stumble or collide with anything in their path. Her trembling hands found his broad chest, bracing against the unyielding firmness of his body. For a fleeting moment, she hesitated, unsure if she meant to push him away or pull him closer. The indecision tore through her, but Vader seemed to sense it, his response immediate and decisive.
He growled low in his throat, a sound that vibrated through her palms and sent a shiver racing down her spine. His arm snaked around her waist, slow but deliberate, pulling her flush against him. Padmé’s head swam as her body pressed into his – there was no escape now, no space between them. His grip was firm, unrelenting and yet, despite herself, she felt no true desire to break free. Why would she? Vader was solid and warm against her, a wall of towering strength and raw, untamed desire. The intensity of it was dizzying, dangerous, addictive.
Her mind screamed warnings, echoing the principles she had lived by for her entire life, but her body ignored them all. This moment defied reason, defied everything she stood for and yet, as much as she knew this could damn her, she needed more. She needed him.
Suddenly, the distant blare of an alarm echoed through the base and Padmé’s heart leapt in recognition – her friends. That has to be for them! He’d done it. Just as he promised, he’d given them the time they needed. Relief coursed through her, mingling with the ever-present tension in her chest. She turned toward the window, but from this level of the base, all she could see were the endless clouds stretching out over the skyline. Still, they were out there. Somewhere. They had a chance now and all she could do was hope they’d make it back to safety.
“I’m a man of my word,” Vader murmured, his voice pulling her attention back to him. There was a dark satisfaction in his tone, a low rumble that sent a shiver down her spine. “Especially,” he continued, his golden eyes locking onto hers, “when there’s something I desperately want in return…”
Suddenly, a sharp cry escaped Padmé’s lips as her back collided with the cold, unyielding wall. The impact sent a jolt through her but before she could gather her bearings, Vader was there, his body pressing firmly against hers. His hips slotted against hers with a demand that left her breathless, the sensation overwhelming and utterly dizzying. She had lived a full life, had her share of experiences, and even indulged in a fling or two over the years. But stars – it had never felt like this before…
Her pulse was racing, pounding in her ears as her blood roared through her veins like wildfire. Her breaths came short and shallow between forceful kisses. Padmé felt incredibly needy as she spread her thighs just a little further apart, allowing Vader to press firmer, closer…
She had never wanted a man the way she wanted him now, this towering shadow of danger and desire. The intensity of it was almost too much to bear, consuming her thoughts, her body, her very sense of self… This was pure sex and she loved it. He pressed her harder against the wall and Padmé let her arms wrap around his neck, moaning when his hips shifted just so…
Gasping, she writhed as Vader’s sharp teeth scraped over her pulse again. She was getting wet – positively aching to be wrapped around him, to be beneath him, left feeling small and distinctly feminine beneath such a powerful man. Oh, if only her friends could see her now… Padmé shoved those thoughts out of her mind as she was gathered up into his strong arms and they were moving, but his mouth was busy on her neck, distracting her with such delicious sensations and she was melting, moaning, and stars this was –
“Oof!” Padmé cried out as she was dropped unceremoniously on a large bed, landing with an embarrassing little bounce that left her cheeks flushing. He did not just do that… Rising on her elbows, she fixed him with her most furious glare. "Did you just throw me?” Rather than intimidate the Imperial menace before her, her words elicited a rather… unexpected reaction. Vader laughed. A deep, genuine laugh reverberated through the room, rich with amusement.
At her expense. Padmé’s eyes narrowed dangerously. The audacity!
Who did he think he was? The sound of his laughter ignited a spark of defiance deep within her. It had, in the past, been claimed that Padmé Amidala Naberrie was capable of behaving… childishly. Occasionally. She, of course, had gone to great lengths to deny such claims. But right now? Well, there was no defence to be had as her hand shot out, snatching the nearest pillow. With a swift motion, she smacked it squarely into Darth Vader’s smug, laughing face.
The muffled thud was deeply satisfying, as was the stunned silence that followed. For one glorious moment, she had the pleasure of seeing pure, unfiltered bewilderment paint his expression as the pillow dropped back onto the bed.
"Did you just..." he growled, his voice a low, menacing rumble as he stalked toward the foot of the bed. His imposing presence loomed larger with every step, golden eyes blazing with something dangerous. "I've killed for less."
But rather than cowering, Padmé’s lips curved into a daring smirk, defiance shining in her gaze. "That seems terribly inefficient," she said, her tone light and teasing, a stark contrast to the weight of his words. She ignored the dark truth beneath them, letting herself revel in this rare spark of freedom she felt in his presence. How was it possible that with darkness incarnate standing before her, she felt light? Free? When had she last felt like this – so unrestrained, so... alive? She couldn’t even remember. "You should work on your anger, Lord Vader," she added, her smirk widening as she met his gaze head-on, the fire in her eyes daring him to respond.
The snarl that escaped him might have been terrifying in any other context, but here and now, the unmistakable glint of amusement gleaming in his golden eyes only made her heart skip a beat. What have I gotten myself into? The answer didn't seem to matter as much as it should. Allowing for no more of this bantering chit-chat, Vader pounced, taking her mouth fiercely and any further thought racing inside her mind was silenced as his tongue invaded her mouth.
Padmé melted into the kiss, savouring the perfect balance of pressure and firmness, her senses completely consumed by this man. She was so lost in the heat simmering between them that the sensation of a bare hand cupping her jaw startled her. When did he slip off his glove?
But the question barely had time to register before his touch distracted her again. His fingers, warm and undeniably human, traced the line of her jaw before sliding lower. The sensual glide of his skin against hers sent a shiver racing through the senator, each movement deliberate and unhurried, as if they had all the time in the galaxy for this.
As his hand drifted to her collarbones, the intimate weight of his touch left her breathless, her heart thundering in her chest. The contrast between the man he was supposed to be, the monster she and the galaxy feared – and the tenderness he showed her was dizzying. She didn't know what to think anymore, and she wasn't sure she wanted to understand at all.
That wondering hand slid to the top of her breast and Padmé was suddenly very aware of the plain, beige tunic she wore – not exactly one of her more confidence-boosting fashion choices. Annoying, but hardly important in the grand scheme of things. Vader climbed over her body, pressing her flat to the bed and his other hand, strangely still gloved, filled with her breast. Padmé groaned into his mouth as his thumbs circled her nipples through her clothes, that was nice. Fantastic, actually.
She cried out as Vader fisted the neckline of her uniform and ripped the fabric in half, the torn shreds falling away and leaving her bare to his eyes. That cursed, smug smirk of his reappeared and he raised a challenging brow. “You won’t be wearing it again,” he said cooly. “Ever.”
The hint of a command laced through those words made Padmé shiver and part of her reared up, demanding an argument to put him in his place. Who was he to tell her what she would and wouldn’t do? But such things could wait until later. She was burning, desperate and needed him to take care of her before she combusted right here. Vader for his part seemed relieved by her lack of argument, kissing her neck while his ungloved hand pinched her nipple softly, teasing the hardened bud to a full, aching peak until she was squirming beneath him for more.
And more he gave her. As Padmé panted and gasped, his gloved hand slipped beneath the looseness of her uniform pants, sliding directly between her legs just as he suckled against her pulse, nipping then soothing the sting with his tongue. The combined sensations were too much, she couldn't take it yet she needed so much more. Needed it now! She cried out and suddenly, she was grateful Vader's rooms were so above everything in this base – and everyone.
"Keep making sounds like that and my stormtroopers will hear you," Vader rasped, "Would you like that? Everyone to know Senator Amidala is in my bed…" The tip of his tongue traced the shell of her ear and Padmé shuddered violently. "You would, I can sense it…”
More uncontrollable, pleading sounds tumbled from her open lips. There was just no stopping it, not as he angled his wrist and slid his fingers through her wet folds. He was teasing, playing with her, working Padmé up into an inferno and she bucked against him, her body begging for more. "Please…" She whimpered again. “Please, I need…”
“I know what you need,” he sighed, “You’re so good for me… my own perfect, tight, angel…” On the next slide, two fingers slid inside her and Padmé wailed, her hips writhing to meet him with every passionate surge. “Fuck… you’re so wet…” Vader was panting in her ear, his free hand squeezing her breast as such forbidden, incredible pleasure coiled tight inside her. She felt wet and slick with lust in ways she never had before. What was this man doing to her?
With her previous lovers, Padmé never allowed things to venture as far as dirty talk. The very thought of it made her want to shrivel up and pass away on the spot… The prospect was simply never appealing – someone panting compliments, describing their thoughts and desires… No, honestly, she'd always rather get things done with so to speak. But as Vader hissed in her ear, suddenly the senator was clenching around his expert fingers, moaning louder… Damn, it was hot and every word sent her hurdling closer and closer to a much-needed powerful climax.
"Keep… talking…" she moaned, riding Vader's fingers, arching and whining as her moaning grew louder and louder as her release edged closer. She needed this – needed his sinful words pouring into her ear to ease her pleasure along. There was just something about that voice that turned her on beyond control, something powerful that made Padmé surrender.
Vader chuckled darkly, “You like words, senator? Why am I not surprised…” His deep drawl concluded with the sharp tip of his tongue dragging the along length of her quivering throat. “Maybe I should drag you down twenty levels and take you against the window overlooking the hangar bay… Would you like that? Hm? All your friends watching Darth Vader riding you into the transparasteel?”
She could see it… the sinful image he painted in her mind, hundreds and hundreds of eyes watching her naked and writhing, pressed against the window with him deep inside her… Padmé cried out something unintelligible – gods help her, she wanted it. Wanted people to see what he did to her. She wanted to ride him in her senate pod and broadcast it to the whole galaxy! When did she become so depraved? She bit her lip, whimpering as his fingers found just the right spot inside her and searing pleasure throbbed between her legs.
Her fingers tangled tightly in that soft, golden hair of his, her nails scraping lightly across Vader’s scalp. He hissed in response, the sound dark and primal, before leaning in to bite her shoulder in playful retaliation. The sharp sensation sent a shiver down her spine, her body arching involuntarily toward him.
Her other hand slid lower, exploring the hard, unyielding planes of his broad back beneath the heavy layers of dark robes. Her fingertips traced the curve of his spine, following the path of thick, ruinous scars etched into his flesh like an ancient, violent map. Every scar told a story, each a testament to the battles he had fought and the pain he had endured. His body was a living tapestry of violence and brutality, and Padmé found herself captivated by it, her curiosity and desire urging her to explore every inch of him. Preferably with her tongue.
“Do you know how many times I’ve thought about this?” He asked as his busy fingers maintained their furious pace, his thumb circled her clit in careful circles that made Padmé arch and grind into him, moaning shamelessly. She truly was so wet and delicious little shivers raced through her. “How many times I watched you in the senate wherever I was in the galaxy, fucking my hand and imagining it was this perfect pussy…” Those words… did things to her. Indescribably naughty things. His gloved hand abandoned her breast to swipe his leather-covered thumb across her parted lip. “Or this pretty mouth…”
“Oh, please…” Practically sobbing from the pleasure, her thighs parted wider, the wet sounds of her pleasure were making her cheeks burn. “More – please… Don’t stop!”
“I want you to think about me now…" Vader panted, "Every time you're alone, I want you to think about me and everything I'm about to do to you." Surely he felt her thighs shaking around his wrist? Her inner walls were clamping, squeezing, trying to make him stay as every passionate surge had him massaging that perfect spot inside her. A lustful litany of “Ah… ah… ahhh” filled the room. She was so damn close… her peak right there… just there…
“Cum for me,” Vader groaned his possessive demand, "fuck my fingers and cum!”
Padmé never did anything she was commanded to do… but this time… oh stars, this time, that sweet, incredible tension building within her snapped at the roughness of his voice, the expert precision of his fingers curling inside her just right… She squeezed all around him as a devastating, overpowering climax rushed through her entire body. She almost wailed as the pleasure peaked, burning the world white-hot all around her – even when she squeezed her eyes shut. Vader maintained his rhythm, fucking her through every pulse and throb of pleasure until she was gasping and pushing him away, growing too sensitive.
Gently tugging his fingers free of her, Padmé's sensitive clit gave a pitiful throb as she watched the Emperor's right-hand man lift his glistening fingers to his lips and suckle them clean, moaning at the taste, as if she were the sweetest treat in the galaxy. Her cheeks burned furiously and with her breasts bear, she began to feel terribly exposed before this man who'd hardly shed a layer. Summoning her confidence, she draped herself sensually across the bed, mindful once more of the less-than-appealing trousers she'd worn. But Vader’s eyes blazed with hunger, a ravenous man eyeing up a feast splayed out before him.
"You're so beautiful…" he dared to sound awed as his eyes dragged across her breasts, her throat and then met her eyes. Her rational side was threatening to bleed into focus once more so Padmé dragged him down, savouring the delicious sensation of being pressed into the mattress. She was dwarfed by him, outmatched in height, weight and strength and maybe she had a thing for that? As their lips crashed together yet again, the senator began to feel slick and needy with brand new arousal as she felt him, hard and throbbing against her stomach.
And big… that felt… big.
Her core throbbed with need.
Slowly, as their tongues mated wantonly, clothing was torn off and hands wandered. Padmé lay back as she watched Vader undo his black belt, it came away with a powerful hiss, the sound tinging between her legs. He really was in fantastic shape, so sculpted, so hard-cut with muscle that Padmé found herself breathless. Her wide eyes roamed over his body, drinking him in with awe. Now that is impressive, she thought, her throat suddenly dry as she swallowed hard.
She had seen her share of good-looking, athletic men before, but stars above, this was something else entirely. What did a man have to do to look like that? The sheer power in his frame was undeniable, he was strength and grace intertwined. Sitting up, her hand moved almost of its own accord, drawn by an irresistible pull of desire. She reached out, her fingertips trailing softly across his chest, then down his stomach, tracing every hard, muscled ridge beneath her palm.
His skin was impossibly warm and Padmé felt him shudder violently beneath her touch as if this gentle caress was the most erotic sensation he'd ever felt. She felt powerful, shifting closer to lay a series of delicate kisses along his chest, lingering above the frantic heartbeat she felt. Vader groaned softly, throwing back his head as she tasted the slight tang of his skin on her tongue. She wanted to lay him down and map every hard inch of him, to make him writhe and pant as she did, but unfortunately, he had other ideas. Padmé cried out as he was shoved back, colliding with the pillows as he tore off his dark trousers.
Her mouth watered as his hard length was freed, he was big… Big and thick and twitching just for her. She felt incredibly needly all of a sudden, pressing her thighs together for a modicum of relief as those dangerous golden eyes settled on her once more. Undressed down to her soft, plain panties, Padmé knew he could see the shining wetness he’d created between her legs staining the fabric and maybe she might have been embarrassed if her heart wasn’t racing at the prospect of getting her hands on all that.
“Come here…” she whispered, emboldened by desire and thrilled in the subtle widening of Vader’s eyes, like he hadn’t expected her to simply ask for what she wanted. Well, she’d show him. “I want you inside me… please…”
His eyes slammed shut as a whispered curse tumbled from his parted lips. Padmé nearly gasped out loud as he fisted himself, squeezing his hard cock at the base as he battled to maintain control. "You have no idea…” Vader growled, giving himself a slow stroke from root to tip and she wished she were closer. Close enough to lick away the droplet that wept from his tip. What would he think if she did? Would he lose it? She wanted that very much.
Before she could even think about moving, his hands – one still gloved – shot out with startling speed, gripping her ankles firmly. The swiftness of his movements drew a startled cry from Padmé, her breath catching as she felt herself being unceremoniously dragged down the soft sheets. The sudden motion sent her heart racing, her body sliding closer to where Vader knelt, waiting for her with an intensity that made her pulse pound. His golden eyes burned as they locked onto hers, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
The contrast between the cool leather of his glove and the warmth of his bare hand sent shivers up her legs, she was utterly at his mercy but that only made her desire burn hotter. Time for the main event, she wondered hopefully, eyeing that impressive cock once more. She was more than wet enough to take him, but she still hoped he'd go easy on her – at first anyway. But Vader didn't claim the invitation between her legs much to Padmé's disappointment, though the bitter pang lasted only a moment before she shuddered as he leaned down, his soft lips grazing her navel with urgent, worshipping kisses. His mouth moved lower and Padmé let out an involuntary squeal when his tongue flicked against her bellybutton, writhing at the unexpected, ticklish sensation.
She squirmed beneath him, a flush rising to her cheeks as Vader’s deep, amused laughter filled the air. “Ticklish, senator?” he murmured, one eyebrow arching in curious delight.
She loathed people knowing this, but certain spots on her body made her keel over if touched just right. She was painfully ticklish, a personal torment her older sister loved to take advantage of in childhood. Padmé’s answering glare was sharp, but it only earned her another low, rumbling chuckle. That sound, so rich and unguarded, sent a delightful clench through her insides. How many others could claim to have heard Darth Vader laughing?
While not an accomplishment she could ever speak of publicly, at this moment, she cherished that rare sound and a small, traitorous part of herself longed to hear it again and again and again. But that just wasn’t possible and she shoved those feelings away deep, deep inside herself.
He kissed a hot trail down her belly, kindly avoiding her bellybutton this time and in a handful of moments, her embarrassment was forgotten as Vader tore her thighs further apart and filled the space between them. She almost moaned as he slipped her panties off. He was so close… his hot breath teasing her wetness as she clenched around nothing, desperate for him. Why was he playing with her? She'd told him what she wanted – why wouldn't he just give it to her? As if sensing her thoughts, that smug smirk of his peaked up from between her legs. "I've been dreaming of tasting you for so long…" his gaze slid downwards, admiring her pussy with such reverence, Padmé couldn't help but squirm. But that didn't make any sense… They hadn't even met before today and –
“Ohh! Oh gods!” The pleasured cry tore free from her mouth as his tongue traced the length of her, delving inside for only a moment before teasing her clit. That was… a very promising start. This usually did little to enhance her excitement, more a test of uncomfortable endurance than any true pleasure. The few times she'd bothered, this act was all was sloppy tongues hitting the wrong spots and trying and failing to stop her mind from wandering to other places, usually her work. Far from the sexiest topic while a male was between your legs. She often found herself moaning out of pity and a desire to get it over with.
But now Padmé was writhing, lifting her hips only to be held down by large, calloused hands as Vader dragged his tongue up and down her sex. She was panting so heavily with need, her clit throbbing against his tongue as he swirled it in tight circles against the little bud. She couldn’t stop moaning it felt so good… her hands clawing at the sheets above her head as senseless pleasure slammed into her every nerve. He didn’t ease up, didn’t allow her a moment to catch her breath and let her mind catch up to the sensations creating such passionate chaos inside her.
Releasing her hips, his big hands cupped her backside, tenderly kneading the flesh there and Padmé's senses were utterly lost as he began fucking her with his tongue. She buried one hand in his hair, fisting it, squeezing for dear life as her hips rose to ride his face. Vader didn’t seem to mind one bit, lashing her slit as broken sobs of pleasure and cries of his name filled the bedroom. It was too much… she was oversensitive and the overpowering sensations just wouldn’t stop! She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think beyond his tongue torturing her clit.
“Oh gods…” she gasped breathlessly.
“Don’t talk to the gods,” his dark whisper drifted from between her legs. “Talk to me. Tell me how good you feel…”
On instinct, she writhed to escape, to catch her breath, but he didn't let her, dragging her quivering pussy back to his feasting mouth and Padmé was helpless. There was no stopping her cries as everything heightened, her belly tightening as that tension building inside her grew and grew and finally snapped, the world around her exploding in a rush of pure ecstasy. She arched, riding his face furiously and he sucked her clit between his lips, heightening everything until at last, it faded and he released her, letting her slump against the sheets, utterly ruined.
“No dream could ever compare…” he muttered and Padmé lazily opened one eye, panting furiously yet her lungs simply couldn’t get enough. She watched him wipe his mouth with the back of his hand and shuddered… Two powerful orgasms… Unheard of for her! She struggled to orgasm as easily as some of her friends, reduced to envy over their wild, passionate stories of incredible sex while for her, more often than not, she missed the fireworks altogether.
Two intense climaxes and they hadn’t truly begun yet, Vader was still hard and ready… Would it be greedy to try for three? After all, they were in uncharted territory now. Even if that was ambitiously out of reach, Padmé was sure her thighs would still be shaking for days after this. She’d need help standing in the senate for sure. But never mind all that for now, the senator wanted what she wanted and she’d wanted him for long enough.
Taking advantage of his momentary distraction, Padmé struck, throwing herself at Vader with all the strength her trembling legs could muster. Their mouths collided powerfully, all tongues, teeth and deep moans as she pulled him down to the sheets, their bodies rolling around the massive bed as they both strove for dominance. Despite her weakened state, she came out on top, figuratively and quite literally, as she straddled Vader’s strong thighs, but as he played with her nipples, reawakening yet another flush of desire within her, she was sure he was okay with that.
Balancing her weight with one palm pressed to his chest, Padmé reached between their bodies, lining him up and sliding down his thick cock. Hissing at the stretch of him, she paused a few inches down, lifted and took more of him, easing herself down further and further until she had him all. Bracing herself on his chest, she let out a pitiful little whine when he flicked her nipples, arching into his touch. She was so full of him, clenching and trembling and she threw back her head, biting her lip to hold back her moans.
His eyes rolled back as a foreign curse Padmé had never heard groaned from his lips as she rode him, lifting and falling over his hips, taking him all the way inside her again and again. There was no stopping her breathy moans as they fell into the heated air between them, the soul-deep pleasure robbed her of any coherent thought. His calloused hands gripped her hips, guiding her rhythm now, forcing her onto his cock harder, their moans rising in volume and intensity.
“Vader…” Padmé cried, “Oh gods, yes… Vader please…” Her knees sunk into the pliant mattress, riding him fast, taking everything he'd give her, straining to cum all around him one more time… It was close… she could feel that heat, that blissful tension building between her legs and low in her belly… Overcome, she scraped her nails down his muscled chest, leaving blazing red welts in her wake. He hissed, bearing his teeth and she found herself forcefully flipped over, her back hitting the mattress and pressed down beneath his hard body.
Vader showed no mercy, pounding her into the bed as her arms and legs wrapped around his straining body in a desperate, hopeless embrace, meeting him thrust for brutal thrust. The sound of slapping skin filled the bedroom, staining Padmé's cheeks with heady embarrassment but the sharp pleasure unfocused anything but her frantic need for more, for him to keep going…
“So damn tight…” He groaned in her ear, “feels so good… I can’t… can’t stand it…”
“Ohh! Ah… Vader…” Padmé sharply gasped, those pleasured words pouring such poignant desire in her ear. “Fuck me… fuck me as hard as you want… I can take it… I want it!” She watched the effect of her own husky, desperate words had on the man above her, thrilled in his widening eyes and was rewarded with deep, impacting thrusts that toed that precarious line of pleasure/pain… and she loved it. Needed it.
“Mine!” He roared, riding her hard and the very building around them seemed to tremble in the intense wake of their passionate need. Uncontrollable, blissfully intense ripples of pleasure erupted inside her so suddenly, she was unprepared for the full-body, blinding orgasm that stole the breath from the very pit of her lungs. Padmé wailed, head thrown back, and clenched all around his throbbing cock as thrust after thrust, he dragged out her mindless bliss until she slumped beneath him, wrung out and completely satisfied.
Just a few moments afterwards, the transparasteel windows shook, threatening utter ruin with the might of Vader’s pleasured roar, his hips stuttering, losing their rhythm as she felt him pulse and burst deep inside her time again and again, filling her to bursting with him. Padmé clung to him, stroking his back, his hair, and whimpered as he collapsed above her. He was heavy, but for just a few moments, the senator allowed herself to relish his size, his might pressing her down, boneless and sated and still twitching in the aftermath inside her.
The post-orgasmic haze settled over her skin, clearing Padmé's mind as Vader rolled off of her and gathered her in his arms, stroking his gloved hand up and down her back. She could hear his thundering heartbeat against her ear and suddenly, the metaphorical door that held rational-Padmé locked away swung open and a torrent of blinding panic surged through her body. What am I doing? The thought echoed like a scream in her mind and her heart began to race for an entirely different reason.
This was a mistake – a colossal, unthinkable mistake! She was deep in enemy territory, in his bed, of all places. His bed. Her pulse thundered as the gravity of her actions crashed down upon her. She’d just… she’d actually… What have I done? The questions clawed at her, each time sharper than the last. Now that he’d had his way, what would happen next? Was Vader going to kill her? Or hand her over to the Emperor for interrogation, her secrets pried from her mind one agonizing moment at a time?
Her gaze darted toward her torn clothes, scattered in tatters across the floor. There was no slipping away unnoticed once he fell asleep. Surely the hundreds of stormtroopers would take notice of a half-dressed woman sneaking across the base. She was trapped, physically and by her own reckless choices. Padmé cursed herself in every language she knew, berating her weakness, her foolishness and most of all her inability to resist. The panic swelled, her breaths coming faster, each one feeling tighter than the last.
And then, as though sensing the storm within her, Vader tipped her chin up, his golden eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that left her breathless. Before she could say anything, he pressed his lips to hers in a firm, deliberate kiss. The moment their mouths met, the chaos in her mind stilled, her raging thoughts silenced as though a switch had been flipped. The panic, the fear, the regret, it all melted away, leaving only the searing warmth of his touch and the steady, commanding presence that seemed to pull her back from the edge.
“You think too much,” he sighed, “it practically radiates off of you.”
“Maybe you don’t think enough!” Padmé hissed, “This could get us killed – what would your master say if he knew what you’d done?”
Rolling his eyes, Vader tugged her thigh across his hips, settling her into a position that was, admittedly, far more comfortable. But comfortable was the last thing Padmé wanted to be right now. Her heart began to pound as she tried to keep her focus on the situation at hand. “He won’t live long enough to find out,” he murmured darkly, his tone laced with a deadly promise. “Anyone who threatens you is an enemy in my eyes.”
That made her pause, her brow furrowing in confusion. Where had that come from? The mighty Darth Vader, her protector? Maybe he was more affected by what just happened than she’d realized – was he a secret romantic, perhaps, swept up in the afterglow? The thought was so absurd it tugged a reluctant smile to her lips, softening the tension that had built in her chest.
"Can you find me some clothes? And a ship?" She asked, her tone firm despite the unexpected warmth still lingering in the air between them. “I have to leave. They’ll wonder what’s happened to me if I stay too long after the others escape.” Her thoughts drifted to her friends, her worry mounting all over again. How far had they made it? Did they find a ship? Are they safe?
Padmé bit her lip, already crafting excuses in her mind. She’d need to explain her delay to Mon, Bail, and the others. But what could she possibly say? She needed a reason, one that didn’t involve the uncomfortable truth of sleeping with their mortal enemy. Her gaze flickered back to Vader, who was watching her intently, his expression unreadable. She swallowed hard, steeling herself. Whatever the excuse, she would figure it out later. Right now, she needed to get out of here.
"You think you can run back to your little Rebels?" Vader's laugh was sharp and biting, a cruel edge slicing through the tension in the room. It wasn't the soft, genuine sound she had heard before, this was darker, laced with sarcasm and simmering anger. Before she could respond, his ungloved hand slid up her back, tangling her braid around his fist tightly. The possessive grip sent a shiver through her, one she wasn't entirely sure was born of fear or something else. His hold felt like a chain, as though he believed he could bind her to him by sheer force of will. “Not happening, senator,” he growled, his golden eyes burning with intensity. “You’re not going anywhere… at least not without me.”
Padmé froze, her heart thundering in her chest as her world seemed to collapse in on itself. What the hell was that supposed to mean?
“I… Vader…” she stammered, her voice trembling as she tried to grasp the gravity of his words. “I’m not going anywhere with you. You said – we agreed! You said if I… if I went to bed with you, you’d let my friends go! We’ve both held up our ends of the bargain. It’s over now!” Her voice rose with each word, desperation creeping into her tone. But even as the words left her lips, she could feel the weight of his gaze, unwavering and unrelenting, pinning her in place.
“I believe I said, you’d come to bed with me until we’re both completely sated…" A sly, self-satisfied smile lifted his lips and Padmé cursed herself for how her heart raced. "I've wanted this for years… Do you really think just one taste would satisfy me?"
Padmé’s whole body trembled as traitorous desire curled around her like a shadow, whispering dark promises of want in her ears. Years? He’d been watching her, wanting her, for years without her ever noticing? The weight of that made her head spin. How could she have been so blind? “We can’t…” she managed to breathe, though her voice was weak, faltering. “I – I have duties… obligations…”
Her career. Her responsibilities. She had a life outside these walls, outside of him. She couldn’t stay here, couldn’t lose herself to this over and over again, no matter how tempting it might be. Her thighs pressed together involuntarily as the thought sent a fresh wave of heat searing through her. No. This was a fantasy, dangerous and fleeting. It could never happen again.
“Staying here was never part of the deal!” She protested, her words firming despite the tremor in her voice.
Vader silenced her with his mouth, capturing her protests in a kiss so consuming it stole the very breath from her lungs. His tongue swept into her mouth, demanding and possessive, erasing every thought she might have clung to. When he finally pulled back, his lips brushed against hers as he murmured, “Your staff have already received orders to cancel your meetings for the next week while you attend to personal matters.”
Her eyes widened, her breath catching.
“I’m altering the deal, angel,” he said, his tone low and deliberate, golden eyes gleaming with amusement. “Pray I don’t alter it further.”
Stars save her, she thought.
And yet, despite herself, Padmé smiled.
One week.
She could accomplish a lot in one week.