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Title: Random Daydreams with a Sith Lord

Authors: Anonymous and Prophecy Girl (prophgirl@gmail.com)
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Vader, OFC
Category: AU, Adventure, Romance, some angst.

Disclaimer: We are not making any money from this, and he doesn't belong to us. Darn.

Summary: Lord Vader finds a companion - you.

Authors' Note: This started as the swapping of random plot bunnies via e-mail. The ideas became more detailed and were expanded into a fic, each author adding a few lines at a time. The middle section was written first, then the end, before jumping back to the beginning. Paragraphs flagged with >> are those written by Prophecy Girl's anonymous co-author. Both writers contributed equally to the final text.

"I find this shameless exploitation of my sexual prowess ... disturbing."

>>You wake to the sound of the morning bells tolling in your village. It's time to get out of bed and do something, but you just lie there, listening to their solemn tones until the last ringing note fades into silence.

>>Finally, the cool morning breeze through your open window prompts you to move. There's work to do and staying in bed won't get it done. With a sigh, you pull yourself upright and set about your morning routine, the same routine you have used all your life.

>>You eventually set your hairbrush down on the dresser and frown at your reflection. Yours is a quiet, backwater little world, well removed from the center of the galaxy and any events of importance.

>>But today you feel that something is going to happen to change all that.

This feeling sparks both apprehension and excitement. You have often wished for a chance to see something, anything. The vastness of the galaxy is overwhelming, and the thought of living and dying within it without causing so much as a ripple has been one of your greatest fears.

But your mother oft told you to be careful what you wish for.

>>You wander down the stairs and glance into the main room. No one is here. The house is strangely deserted. This is odd, but not that unusual. Your mother and stepfather must have left for the market earlier than they said they would.

>>With a shrug, you pull on your shoes, select a cloak, and step out the door into the stone cobbled street beyond. It's only a short distance to central square in your village and the chaos of weekly market day.

>>But today it's eerily silent as you approach the corner. The normal noises you associate with the hustle and bustle of people haggling and doing business are missing.

You pause and cast a worried glance around you. There is no one in the streets. You begin to walk again, but this time slowly and cautiously. What is going on?

As you turn the corner your breath catches and you try to stifle a gasp. Spread out along the street in precise, rigid lines are soldiers - thousands of them. You recognize them as Imperial stormtroopers from the videos you've seen on the holonet. You continue walking, trying to act normal and unfrightened.

The `trooper closest to you steps out of formation and holds up his hand.

"State your business, citizen," he says.

"I... the market," you answer. "I came for the market."

"There is no market today," he answers icily. "State your business."

"I came for the market," you repeat. "I didn't know."

"You're lying," he states flatly.

You begin to back away.

"No," you protest earnestly. "I didn't know."

>>"Identification, now," he orders.

>>You freeze and stare at him.

>>"It's at home," you blurt out.

>>Now you really are in trouble, you quickly realize when he moves to take you by the arm. You take another step, only to find two black leather gloved hands settling firmly on your shoulders, stopping any further retreat.

>>"Is there a problem?" a rich baritone voice asks.

"My Lord," the soldier bristles. "This citizen is hiding something."

"Is she?" the voice asks simply, with a hint of amusement.

You attempt to turn around and look at your saviour, but his hands are immovable.

"She is, my Lord," the soldier insists, straightening.

"Hm..." the voice muses. "Perhaps so. The command post is nearly set up. Take her there at once, and I will question her more thoroughly."

"Yes, Lord Vader," the 'trooper nods and again takes your arm.

You blink and, as the hands on your shoulders drop away, you turn to see him, Lord Vader, the second most powerful man in the Empire, towering above your small form. The gloved hands now rest casually at his belt, the rhythmic cycle of his breathing ringing through your ears.

>>He's far bigger in person than you thought he would be from the few holos you've seen of him. Broader across the chest, obviously heavily muscled, and quite tall. You have to tip your head up to look into his mask.

>>His pose is casual, relaxed. There's no menace in his body language, just a calm, almost amused attitude in the slight tilt to his helmet as he watches you examine him.

>>You hear his low chuckle reverberate through his mask when the `trooper pulls on your arm and you refuse to budge. You are far too fascinated with the man in black armour in front of you to pay any attention to what the soldier, who is now insistently tugging on you, wants you to do.

>>"Or perhaps I should take her there myself," the Sith Lord suggests.

>>You swallow quickly and finally let the `trooper escort you away.

>>Something tells you that getting too close to Lord Vader will be a life-changing experience.

What was it you'd told yourself just an hour or so earlier? Be careful what you wish for. As the 'trooper leads you through the door of a nearby building - the Trade Outpost Headquarters on a normal day, you note - you steal a glance over your shoulder, hoping to get an undetected second look at the Sith Lord.

Instead you find yourself looking directly into the black expanse of his mask as he watches you intently in turn.

You feel yourself color and turn back around hastily. He's going to kill you, you tell yourself.

So why do you find him so fascinating?

>>He is a powerful, dangerous man. His moods are unpredictable, and his reputation for having no tolerance for fools is well established. Everyone, even on your remote, isolated world, knows this.

>>You keep your eyes fixed between the shoulders of the officer you are handed off to and follow him into the office used by the Outpost's administrator. There is no sign of its usual occupant today.

>>While you stand there growing more nervous every second, the Lieutenant studies a datapad, shuffles through flimsies, and ignores you. You do your best to not shift from one foot to the other as the minutes seem to stretch out endlessly. It's as if you don't exist to him.

>>You start to ask permission to sit down on one of the old, hard wooden chairs against the wall, then think better of it and snap your mouth shut. Co-operating is the prudent thing to do, and you don't want him to know how uncomfortable you are starting to feel.

>>The door opens behind you. Booted footsteps approach, striking the stone floor with a distinctive loud slap with each step. He's back, you think, as you hear that even, regulated breathing once again.

>>This time you don't turn around to stare at him.

"Leave," he tells the Lieutenant simply.

The man drops the flimsies onto the table without preamble and removes himself. Once he is gone, Vader slowly circles you, looking you up and down. You set your jaw firmly and stare straight ahead, waiting.

"Did he harm you?" he asks.

You turn to look at him now, confused.

"I... no," you shake your head slightly.

>>"Good," he replies as he stops directly in front of you.

>>You wish you could see his face, to see what he might possibly be thinking. His mask gives you no hints, but his voice still sounds a bit amused and his pose is as relaxed as it was earlier.

>>"I am here hunting an escaped prisoner," he admits, "but it's obvious you know nothing about that."

>>You confirm his words with a nod. This is news to you. There was not a word of this from anyone yesterday, and you have not seen your mother and stepfather since after dinnertime last night.

>>He reaches over and runs a leather gloved finger down your cheek. Somehow you stay in place without flinching. You suspect he is testing you, but for what?

>>"Yes, I am," he reveals with a low rumbling chuckle.

Your eyes widen and you draw in your breath sharply. Tales of Vader's ability to read minds are legendary even here, but you are shocked at how nonchalantly he reveals this to you. Your first thought is that he intends to kill you. Why else would he be here?

But there is something in his manner, in his touch, that indicates otherwise.

"I admit, you caught my eye," he murmurs, running his finger down your opposite cheek now.

>>You stay frozen in place. Even if you tried to, you suspect that you could not move. His fingers leave your face, brush your hair back as they thread through it, combing it from the top of your head downwards before returning to join his other hand in gently cupping your face. A shiver you can't suppress goes through your body at his touch.

>>He tips your chin upwards so you can't avoid looking at him.

>>His close scrutiny makes you blush deep scarlet. The odd interested glance from the boys in your village has produced little reaction from you. But this. This is different. This is a man who is examining you, touching you, not one of the young fools who has attempted to gain your attention in the past. And your body, despite what you want it to do, is instinctively reacting of its own accord to the presence of a dominant male.

>>He releases your face, so you quickly look down, stare at his boots to cover your embarrassment and the flutterings in the pit of your stomach. Part of you yearns to have his touch back while the rest is afraid of what he might do next.

Several moments pass like this. You are no longer afraid to speak, you simply don't know what to say. Lord Vader is not what you expected.

He stands watching you, silently, fists curled loosely at his sides. He appears relaxed and calm, patiently waiting for you to act.

"Where's my mother?" you ask suddenly.

"I don't know," he admits.

"Is she okay?" you press.

"I don't know," he says again.

>>"Could you find out for me?" you blurt out.

>>When you realize what you have just done - asked him to do something for you - you start blushing again. Continuing this conversation will surely get you into trouble if you are not careful what you say.

>>"If you really want to know," he offers, "I can have the Lieutenant check for her name against the list of detainees."

>>You stare at him, surprised. This is not the reaction you expected. A reprimand for your forwardness or denial of your request would be more typical given the stories about him.

>>Then again, how often do tall tales match the truth?

"More often than not, I'm afraid," he says, again reading your thoughts.

"So you are going to kill me," you state flatly.

A chuckle.

"No."

You fall silent once more. Things are making less sense with each passing moment.

>>"I have something else in mind for you," he adds when you say nothing.

>>One of his fingers repeats its previous path down your cheek. You freeze at his touch as you finally realize what his intentions probably are. His next words confirm your suspicions.

>>"Your world has certain quaint customs when it comes to dealing with foreign dignitaries," he tells you as his hand falls away again.

>>You swallow and keep your eyes straight forward, staring at his chest. He knows about it, you think, knows about the old practice of offering a young man or woman to a powerful visitor as a mark of esteem. While it is rarely done anymore, it is still seen as perfectly acceptable by most. There will not be a single objection from anyone, not even your mother or stepfather.

>>And, you ironically note, you are the one he has chosen to be his.

His fingers trail lightly down your arm, then he picks up your hand, raising it in front of you. He begins to gently massage your palm with his thumb and you relax a little, despite yourself.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he says gently.

You refuse to look at him. According to the young women in the village, it hurts quite a lot.

"Not with me," he tells you.

>>You start blushing. He knows you're a virgin, that you have no experience, so there's no point in denying it to him.

>>But does he know about the obligations he will be expected to fulfill because of your innocence? The price which comes with what he wants from you? Even though he is only a visitor to your world, he will have to supply a house for you before he leaves, and support you for the rest of your life, just as the husband you will never have would be expected to do.

>>No other man will ever be allowed to touch you after he does.

"Perhaps I will choose to ignore that part of the tradition," he muses.

Your eyes widen and you gape at him, unable to hide your shock. He wouldn't dare.

"Wouldn't I? I am Lord Vader, after all," he says, and then you hear it - that trace of amusement is back in his voice. He's teasing you.

>>A smile escapes from you before you can stop it.

>>"That's better," he soothes. "I know you are not afraid of me and I would prefer you to stay that way. Now, your mother."

>>He touches a control panel on the desk.

>>"Lieutenant," he orders, "see to the release of ..."

>>His voice drifts off while he waits for you to supply your stepfather's and mother's names. You do so without hesitation, surprised that he would do this so quickly for you.

>>"Thank you," you tell him once the Lieutenant confirms his superior's commands have been filled.

He waves his hand dismissively. "Despite rumours to the contrary, I am not a monster."

You think back to the stories about him, particularly the ones regarding his armour, and the reasons for it. Too late you remember that he is reading your thoughts, and see him stiffen.

"I - I'm sorry," you stammer, lowering your head to once again stare at the floor.

>>"It happened long ago and will not stop me from doing what I want to with you," he admits. "But you will never see my face, nor will I ever be truly able to touch you."

>>You keep your eyes fixed firmly on his boots and nod stupidly. Of course he can't remove it. Not here, anyway, and he might not want to take it off, even if he could. You bite your lip as one of the old rumours comes to mind. He has sacrificed so much for the Empire and asked for very little in return.

>>It is rather obvious that he intends to ask for you, but not as a reward, not as a prize. He genuinely wants you. And he has promised that he won't hurt you.

>>For a moment you weigh your options. Refusing might bring ruin to your family, your village, your world. He will certainly not be pleased by that sort of negative response. And it will be for only as long as he is here, which will only be for a few days or weeks at the most. You can live with that and the prospect of being looked after is tempting, too.

>>But it is none of these practical things which tips the balance of your choice.

>>You look deep into your heart, measure what you are starting to feel and decide he can have you.

You tip your head up to gaze at him calmly. He has been watching you, waiting.

"Well?" he asks.

"You already know my answer," you say simply.

He nods.

"I do. Say it anyway."

"Yes," you feel your voice tremble, despite your resolve. "My answer is yes."

"Good."

>>And with that, you know your fate is now sealed.

>>"Go to your home. Prepare yourself however you want to," he orders. "I'll send for you tonight."

>>That's a dismissal, you note, and he has other things to attend to. You wait a moment longer, expecting him to say something else, but he stays silent, obviously waiting for you to leave.

>>You turn about and make your way slowly to the building's entrance. No one spares you more than a quick glance. That will change after tonight, you suspect. Tomorrow morning you will no longer be just another one of the village girls.

>>No, by tomorrow, you will be irrevocably his.

You take your time walking home, steps lagging, lost in thought. Your intuitions were correct, your life has now changed forever. The second most powerful man in the Empire chose you for his companion, and you accepted his invitation. Is this really what you want?

You realize that it is.

What else could you exist for but this? If he wants you, it must be because you are his, and always have been.

>>You push open the door to your childhood home. Your mother hears you come in, rises from her chair as you stop in the hallway. She is staring at you and the expression on her face is one you have never seen there before.

>>She's afraid.

>>"Mother?" you ask, puzzled.

>>"We need to get you ready," she states. "I won't have my daughter going to his Lordship looking like any less than her best."

>>Word of your new status has spread quickly then.

>>"You know," you say simply.

>>"Yes."

"How?" you ask, unsure of what else to say.

"The Lieutenant informed me when they let me go free." She holds up her hand, anticipating what you are about to say, "He chose you. It's done. This way, at least I know my daughter will always be safe."

>>You look at her, mute for a moment. If she knows, then everyone in the village knows. There will be no hiding it from anyone. Your face flushes in embarrassment as your eyes drop to the floor.

>>Your mother tactfully ignores that and waves you towards the stairs.

>>"Let's get started," she offers. "To do this properly will take all afternoon."

>>You take the steps, one at a time, slowly, thinking about your situation as you set your feet on each one. By the time you reach your bedroom you are more settled.

>>"Bath first," your mother orders as she opens your dresser and begins throwing your clothes on the bed.

>>You watch her do this, see her frown at what she finds.

>>"I'll be back with something more suitable," she tells you.

>>Then she is gone, leaving you with only your thoughts for company.

You wander into the refresher and begin to run hot water for your bath. Almost as an after thought, you grab a small bottle of perfumed oil - a gift from your mother several years ago, but something you have never used - and dump a few drops into the water, letting the floral smell float to you and around you.

You sink into the water gratefully, the steam dampening your hair into curls against your forehead and close your eyes.

>>Your mother's voice telling you to get out of the water wakes you up. She's returned from wherever it was she went to and has a deep blue gown draped over her arm.

>>You get out of the lukewarm water and wrap a warm towel around you. Curiosity gets the better of you, so you go to have a closer look at the dress she has hung on a peg in the wall.

>>It's far grander than anything you've ever worn before. Not in cut or style - it is quite simple in those - long, flowing of skirt and sleeves - but in material. You breathe in sharply. Mothsilk.

>>"It must have cost a fortune," you blurt out.

>>Your mother looks uncomfortable for a moment. You know your family could never afford a gown like this one.

>>"He had it sent over for you," she admits.

>>You don't need to ask who `he' is.

"Mother..." you begin, then trail off. Your nerves are getting the better of you now.

"You were simply being yourself when he found you. Be yourself now," she tells you.

"How can you be so calm?" you ask suddenly.

She turns and looks at you with cool, clear eyes. "He's chosen you. That can't be changed now."

>>Your hands start shaking and your legs go weak as you realize exactly what you have committed yourself to. You sink down onto the bed and stare at your mother and that dress while you try to regain your composure.

>>He chose you.

>>Relatively plain, ordinary you.

>>When he could have picked one of the more beautiful girls from your village.

>>You shut your eyes, take a few deep breaths to steady yourself. When you open them again, you are ready.

>>It's time to prepare yourself.

You dress in silence, putting on first your undergarments - simple, plain fabrics that somehow feel wrong beneath the opulent blue gown - then the dress itself, feeling the material cling to your skin gently. Your mother circles around you, fussing with your hair, rearranging fabric, doting like a bantha over her newborn cub.

She pulls your hair up into a twist, leaving soft tendrils to curl around your face. Next she sets about applying make-up, rogue to your cheeks, a sweep of light-colored powder across your eyelids, a soft lilac shade on your lips.

"Wait here," she tells you and disappears into the hallway.

When you look up at yourself in the mirror, you gasp. Gone is the plain, homely girl who always returns your gaze each day, replaced by a young woman, graceful and elegant. You look almost... worthy.

When your mother returns, she is carrying a small box. You recognize it and look at her, puzzled.

"A gift from your father on our wedding night," she says, opening the box to reveal a necklace, a simple strand of pearls, harvested from the ocean depths of Manaan. "He always wanted you to have them someday."

She plucks the necklace from the box and motions for you to turn around, reaching to settle the pearls around your neck. It is the perfect finishing touch.

You're ready.

>>You follow your mother down the stairs, let her toss her best cloak around you. It's time to go, but part of you wants to stay, to remain the child you will no longer be in a few hours. Pausing in the doorway, you glance back, take one last look at your childhood home. Then you step into the street and hurry on your way.

>>The walk to the mayor's residence seems to be a short one tonight, but you know that's just an illusion.

>>You halt in front of your destination, stare at the old mansion. Stormtroopers are at attention guarding the door, but it's their Commander who notices you. He quickly moves to your side.

>>"My lady," he calls you as you are escorted through the large wooden doors, past the `troopers.

>>They close behind you.

>>You look up to the head of the long sweeping staircase.

>>He's there, standing at the top of it, waiting for you.

You pause for a moment, unsure of how to behave.

He extends a hand to you.

"My lady," he prompts simply.

You ascend the stairs with calm, even footsteps and when you reach him, place your hand in his. Firm fingers grasp your palm, pulling you to him. He whirls you around to his side, and tucks your hand into the crook of his arm without a word. Then he leads you down the hallway to a door directly in front of you, what you discern to be the master suite.

>>Pausing for a moment, he waves his free hand at it. The door swings wide at his gesture. So the stories about his other unusual abilities are also true. He guides you through and releases you the instant the door is closed.

>>His hand drifts upwards to your cloak clasp, which he releases, letting the fabric fall to the floor around your feet. For a long moment he stands there, looking at you, silent.

>>You do your best to keep your eyes fixed on him, but you saw the large bed through the open doorway behind him when you came in. Its presence is a distraction and a reminder.

>>He will expect you to be in that, with him, under him, in a few minutes.

>>You nervously bite your lip as you stare past him at that bed. A blush colors your cheeks. He turns a little, following your gaze to see what you are looking at, you suppose.

He grasps your chin with strong fingers and tilts your face up to look at him. You stare at him with wide, childlike eyes.

"Don't think about that," he murmurs and strokes your cheek lightly with his thumb. You sense he is studying you, taking in your appearance, though you can't be certain. "I am well pleased with my choice."

Tentatively you lift up a hand, pausing before you touch him, waiting for permission. He nods slightly and you lay your hand against his chest, then trace the contours of his armor gingerly.

>>You can feel his body heat through the quilted leather. He's warm, you note, as your fingers trace a hesitant path down his chest. When you pull them back, he catches your hand again and returns it to where you last had it.

>>This time, you are bolder. You reach up, run a finger along the angled cheekbone of his mask. The durasteel is cool, but with each exhalation you feel his hot breath. When you are finished your explorations, he takes your hand and squeezes it.

>>You are not afraid of him - you have never been afraid of him - but touching him has calmed your nerves a little.

>>He touches your hair with his free hand, runs his fingers through it to the back, then yanks out all the pins your mother had used to keep it in place. It falls down your back, around your face. All that work, undone in an instant.

>>"Better," he murmurs as he pulls you in closer.

You feel his hand stroking the back of your neck, gentle but insistent. Then his other hand is around your waist, caressing the small of your back and you shiver at the sensation. You close your eyes and breathe in the strong, heady scent of leather - his scent.

His hand drifts higher on your back. By the time you realize his intention, it's done. The ties of your dress fall away and the garment slips down your shoulders, caught in the crook of your elbow where you've raised your arms to touch him.

>>You freeze for a moment, not sure what to do next. This is moving far faster than you thought it would.

>>He moves his hands to your shoulders now, slides the material farther down, stopping just short of exposing your breasts to his view.

>>"Relax," he soothes, "I won't hurt you."

>>His thumbs lightly caress your skin and you begin to feel the tension leave your body. You let yourself lean up against him, set your head against his chest. Part of you suspects he is responsible for relaxing you, the other doesn't care.

Then he slides the fabric lower still and you feel the cool air of the room against your breasts. You allow your eyes to drift closed again, feeling almost dreamy in your relaxation. The rhythmic pulse of his breathing soothes you and you realize that you have unconsciously synchronized the cycle of your breath with his.

His hands stroke your shoulders and bare arms, then brush across your breasts lightly, almost reverently. He pauses, then touches you again and you feel yourself bite back a moan.

>>His caresses are light, gentle, as he continues to slide your gown lower. Finally it drops away from your body and falls to the floor, around your feet, joining your cloak. You shiver as you feel the cool air against your bare skin.

>>"It's warmer elsewhere," he suggests as his hands ghost over your hips, settle at your waist.

>>Your eyes flick towards the bed again. You were nervous before, but that doesn't matter now. His touch has soothed you and your curiosity and awakening need for him are demanding an answer.

>>"My Lady," he calls you when you don't answer.

>>"My Lord," you whisper in return.

His hands reach under you and in one swift, powerful motion you are in his arms. He carries you to the bed and lays you down gently, then stretches out next you on his side. You realize suddenly that, while you are now naked, he is completely clothed.

He puts a finger to your lips.

"You're not ready," he says simply, answering your unspoken question, as his hands resume their exploration.

>>His fingers glide over your skin. Everywhere he moves them to tingles. You moan a little when he runs them across your stomach, pausing only when you shiver under them.

>>He trails them downwards, to between your legs. You stiffen as his gloved finger slides up, then down, searching for something, parting you. A gasp escapes from you at his first firm stroke. Somehow he's found the exact spot to make your world shatter around you.

>>"Ohhhh," you softly moan as your back arches.

>>Your second cry is considerably louder.

You feel heat build between your legs, emanating from the core of you as he continues to stroke you with firm, circular motions.

"Oh gods," you cry out again, reaching out for him desperately.

His other hand finds yours, lacing your fingers together.

You feel a slight pause and realize he's replaced his index finger with his thumb. Before you can wonder why, he slides a finger inside of you gently.

>>It stings a little at first, but he holds it still for a moment while his thumb keeps moving. You tighten your fingers in his other hand as he starts to slide it in and out, slowly, gently. He's being careful with you, you quickly realize.

>>Sensations you have never felt before ripple through you stomach, then progress downwards, intensifying as they go. You cry out to him again and strain at the hold he has on your hand.

>>You press yourself against his thumb, willing him to continue what he is doing.

Soon you are moaning and shaking against his hand, the sensations within your body building to a slow rumble that you realize won't be contained for much longer.

Then he slides a second finger into you. Again your pleasure is briefly overridden by a sharp stinging, but then the pain is whisked away as he reaches into your mind and soothes you once more.

>>Overwhelmed by what you are feeling, you pull against his hand, trying to free your own from it, but he refuses to let go. One of his fingers within you crooks upwards, drags along you inner, upper surface, leaving you gasping.

>>Your body is poised on the edge of something.

>>Then his thumb kneads you again and your world narrows, becomes focussed solely on what muscles within you are doing. You cry out to him as waves of pleasure roll through you, and at the height of it you feel a third finger join the other two.

>>Your cry becomes a scream as your body is torn open, but he is there, in your mind, instantly whisking the pain away. For a long moment after that you lie there shuddering beside him.

When you have regained some of your composure, you turn to look at him.

"I'm ready," you tell him softly, not sure if you believe your own words.

He strokes you gently with his fingers, then pauses, nods. Then his fingers are gone, and you watch as he removes his codpiece, exposing himself to you.

You can't suppress your gasp. Even though his fingers have stretched and readied you, you are suddenly unsure.

>>Surely he can't fit all of that into you.

>>He brushes your cheek with his fingers, trying to reassure you.

>>"Relax," he suggests, "and it will be easier. Your body will stretch. Tensing up will make it more difficult."

>>His hand drifts downwards, to your knee which he pulls up, bending it. He repeats this with your other one. Then his kneeling between your legs, gently stroking the inside of your thighs, trying to relax you. You start to feel yourself drift a bit at his touch.

"Close your eyes," he tells you softly, and you do. "Trust me," he whispers.

You fell him press himself against you, then very slowly he pushes his hips forward, entering you. You cry out in pain, but just as swiftly the pain is gone as he once again reaches into your mind, plucks it away.

One hand strokes your dampened curls, smoothing the hair from your forehead. You keep your eyes shut and will yourself to relax.

>>His movements within you are slow, gentle as he eases himself in deeper. You feel your body stretching to accommodate him, just like he told you it would.

>>"My Lord," you whisper to him when he stops and remains motionless.

>>"My Lady," he replies, brushing his fingers along your cheekbone.

>>He withdraws a little then pushes back into you again. There is another twinge between your legs, quickly soothed by him. The Sith Lord is keeping his promise to ensure this is a pain free as possible for you.

>>"Thank you," you tell him as you catch his hand, hold it tight in your own.

He touches your cheek lightly again with his free hand in response. This time when he moves inside you he pushes deeper, again pausing, letting your body adjust.

You are surprised by his patience. Surely this can't be enjoyable for him.

"It is," he murmurs and squeezes your hand firmly.

>>He continues the same pattern, slowly pulling out and pushing in again. After the first few, you find that the pain has faded considerably. You begin to anticipate each stroke, each gentle touch of his hand against your skin as his fingers roam across your face and chest.

>>His movements increase in speed. There is no pain now, only a myriad of sensations you are learning to enjoy. Two arms slide around your back, pull you closer to his body. His thrusts are harder now, faster, driving you nearer to that edge you fell from earlier. You feel the leather of his armour slap against your skin with each one.

Your cries are continuous as you cling to him desperately and his pace increases again. His carefully-crafted control begins to slip slightly when you hear him groan. You sense that he is fighting the growing urge to let go.

You realize you don't want him to fight it.

>>You feel your body react again, muscles moving as they did before. But now it is different with him inside of you. Somehow he times his every thrust with each tightening within you.

>>He gasps, pulls you closer as he buries himself completely within you. You feel him shudder against you.

>>"My Lady," he calls out to you as his back arches.

Then your world explodes for the second time. You're vaguely aware of him holding you, stroking your hair, tight against his chest.

When your senses return, he lowers you to the bed gently, then lays down on his back, pulling you against his chest.

"Rest now," he mumurs against your hair.

>>For a few minutes you lie there, wide awake. He continues to caress your hair and face, patiently waiting for you to let sleep claim you. You feel safe here, in his arms, protected from anything that might harm you.

>>"Rest," he repeats.

>>Your eyes drift closed at last.

>>When you wake in the morning he is still there, holding you close. You shift a little to ease muscles which are restless and feel an ache between your thighs. Last night was no dream then. A second slight movement and the throb is accompanied by a rush of fluid. At that, you freeze.

>>"Finally awake, I see," a deep rumbling voice observes.

You nod slightly, afraid to move, unsure of what you are expected to do now.

A gloved hand brushes your face, then drifts down your body, settling on your abdomen. You feel heat between your legs, and then the throb of pain is gone.

"Better?" he asks, and you nod again. "Good."

>>He pulls you close with his arm and drags his cloak over both your bodies.

>>"Stay here with me for a while," he tells you. "I'll take you to your new home later."

>>"New home?" you ask, puzzled.

>>"I did promise to always look after you," he answers, sounding amused. "And I do keep my word, once it's given."

>>He's going to do as tradition dictates, you realize. You won't ever have to worry about how you will survive. Resting your head back against his chest, you settle in to enjoy being held in his arms.

"You're going to leave soon," you whisper.

"Yes," he admits.

"Will you come back?" you ask, holding your breath to hear his answer.

"I will. I'll give you my word a second time, in fact." He squeezes you gently.

>>He isn't going to abandon you.

>>For a moment you hold your breath then exhale in relief. He is required to provide for your needs, but other than that, there is nothing more expected from him. It sounds like he plans to keep you regardless of that.

>>"I'll let you have a bath and dress in private," he tells you.

>>He pulls his cloak off of you and gets to his feet. A hand reaches down and gently caresses your face. Then he goes into the other room, leaving you by yourself to look after your needs. You push yourself up and look down at your thighs. Heat rushes to your face at the blood you see streaking them.

>>A bath is the first item on your agenda.

You make your way gingerly to the refresher. The pain between your legs is gone, but you know that it shouldn't be.

You run the bath and watch the water change from clear to pink when you step into it and sink down.

>>Ignoring that, you randomly select a bottle from the ledge and dump its contents into the water. The sweet smell of wildflowers fills your nose, relaxing you. You ease yourself back against the cool surface of the bath and close your eyes.

>>Your first time was nothing like what you had been told it would be. He was patient, gentle and kind to you, you think, and he fully intends to fulfill his obligations and keep you as his lover as well. The Sith Lord is definitely not the man you expected him to be. For once you are glad that some of the stories about him are not true.

>>You stay in the hot water until you are satisfied you are ready to face him and the rest of the world, then you pull yourself out of the bath and wrap a large, fluffy towel around you. Choosing another stoppered glass vial, you rub the fragrant oil in it all over your body.

You pull a soft robe over your body and return to the bedroom, in search of your dress. It is hanging from the knob of the wardrobe in the corner, but spread out on the bed is a new dress, this one even more elegant than the last. It is a rich, rose color, embroidered with delicate patterns along the hem and sleeves. You smile, and reach for it, pulling it on.

Then you hear his breathing and turn to find him standing in the doorway, arms crossed lazily over his broad chest.

"This dress must have cost a fortune," you say.

"Probably," he answers. "But I have more money than I know what to do with. At least some of it can be put to good use now."

You blush at the compliment.

"Thank you, my lord."

He extends a hand to you in invitation, just as he did last night.

"Come, let's get you settled in your new home."

>>Your hand looks tiny against his large gloved one as he closes his fingers over yours. A blush threatens as you remember what he did with those last night. He chuckles a little and at that your cheeks finally redden.

>>"The next time will be even better," he promises as you are led from the bedroom.

>>Embarrassed, you drop your eyes and let him guide you through the Mayor's house to the street. He turns and pulls you along to the section of the town where the houses are well-kept, but modest and nondescript.

>>"I do not wish to draw too much attention to you," he admits when he sees the puzzled look on your face.

You nod. It is probably a wise idea to keep your residence simple. No doubt word has travelled throughout the settlement by now about your new status, but something too opulent could be dangerous for you.

He leads you to one door - the house is more than large enough for just you, and waves it open casually. Then he stands aside and gestures for you to enter.

"After you, my Lady," he says.

>>You step through the door and look around. The layout seems to be the same as for most houses in this area. There is a wide reception area with rooms to the side for eating and visiting in, with a wide sweeping staircase leading to the bedrooms on the second floor above. The walls are decorated in tasteful earth tones, but in your opinion, it could use some work.

>>"Furnish and decorate it however you wish," he offers. "I have set up an account for you to draw on. Whatever you desire is yours."

>>You nod and squeeze his hand gratefully. This house is far grander than you expected - far more lavish than anything your family could ever afford.

>>"Thank you, my Lord," you tell him. "I will turn it into a special haven for both of us."

>>He pulls you about, into his arms, and holds you close, stroking your hair as you settle yourself close to his body.

>>"You will be my secret treasure," he decides, "my one private indulgence."

You smile against his chest contentedly, lost in his embrace. You can't wait to show your mother your new home and perhaps seek her advice in the decoration.

"My Lord?" you ask.

"Hmm?"

"May I use some of the money for my mother? To see that she is taken care of?"

>>"You may do whatever you wish with it," he offers, "but be sure you are careful not to be too noticeable in your spending."

>>Wise advice, you decide. He's prominent enough that he must have many enemies who might try to do you harm. Keeping a low profile is a good idea.

>>"Thank you. I'll be careful," you reassure him.

>>His hand touches your face, turns it to look up into his mask.

>>"There's a small comm station upstairs, in the bedroom," he tells you. "I will always let you know when I will be returning to you."

>>You feel him hesitate and realize that saying goodbye will be just as hard for him as it is for you to see him go.

"I don't want you to go," you blurt out, then look down to hide your blush.

He tilts your face upwards again, then pulls you close to him.

"If it wasn't absolutely necessary for me to be elsewhere in the galaxy, I wouldn't be leaving," he tells you quietly.

You nod against his chest, and squeeze your eyes shut, fighting tears.

Then you hear a voice erupt from the comlink he has stowed on his person.

"My Lord Vader," the voice intones. "Your shuttle is ready."

>>"I will be back the next time I am able to take leave for a few days," he tells you. "That will be in a month or two."

>>His fingers brush your face, gently remove the tears which have finally escaped.

>>"You can always call me on the comm," he suggests, "and I will answer if I am able."

>>With that, he releases you and steps back. You follow him to the door, stopping him with a light touch to his arm before he can go through it.

>>"I will eagerly await your return, my Lord," you say in a steady voice.

>>"Until then, my Lady."

>>"Until then, my Lord."

>>And then he is gone. You watch him stride down the street, cape billowing after him, from the doorway of your new home. You do not leave your post until his shuttle has lifted from the ground and become indistinguishable in the distance.

>>He didn't say goodbye to you, but you know that's because he will return.

* * *

SEVERAL YEARS LATER

>>You wait impatiently in the spaceport, pacing occasionally, but for the most part you spend your time sitting, staring out the transparisteel windows, and cursing the uncomfortable chairs that pass for furniture here.

>>He's late, you note as you check your chrono for the tenth time in as many minutes. And your lover is never late. No, he is as punctual as the ancient bell which tolls the hours in the village of your birth.

>>You chew your lip, then activity on the next landing platform catches your eye. He's finally here, but instead of bringing his fighter as usual, it's his shuttle which now graces the ancient blast-worn durasteel deck.

>>Your feet hurry to meet him.

>>From past experience, you know he won't want to delay his brief two day holiday with you by a single second longer than is required.

You slow your approach just long enough to verify that he is alone - he always is, but he has taught you to be cautious just the same.

Your timing is perfect; you arrive just as he has taken the first steps out of the ship. He sees you and opens his arms in invitation. You fling yourself into them and he folds his cloak closed over you, wrapping you tightly against him.

"Right on time, my Lord," you say graciously.

"I'm late," he answers and you hear annoyance in his deep baritone voice.

>>"It doesn't matter," you smoothly reply, trying to diffuse his irritation. "I would wait forever, for you, if I needed to."

>>"Unnecessary," he teases a little. "The next time I will simply leave when I feel like it instead of staying to listen to a boring old fool who happens to also be Corellia's planetary governor." One of his fingers traces your cheekbone as he continues, "I have someone else I would rather be spending my time with."

>>From the lighter tone he used, his mood has improved, to your relief. But you know that he won't tell you anymore than that about what he has been doing since his last visit many months ago. He never discusses 'work' with you. And you prefer to be ignorant about it anyway. It makes life simpler if you don't know.

>>His arms shift. One is securely around your back now, just above your waist in a gesture both possessive and protective, as he guides you towards to spaceport's exit. Your transportation is outside. It's time to leave.

Together you walk towards the airspeeder you left outside when you arrived. It is an older model, but nothing on your world is new or fancy. The galaxy has all but forgotten about this tiny, remote planet of yours. At times you think this is why he picked you, picked this place. You know nothing of politics and the Empire is as meaningless here as the Republic was.

At first you worried that your ignorance would annoy him or drive him away from you, but he seems to revere your innocence of galactic affairs; to at times, perhaps, be jealous of it.

>>Too much of his life, his time is spent in the spotlight. You know who he is, what his position as the Emperor's second means, but he never brings that up in conversation. He prefers to forget all that, you suspect, when he spends what little leave time he has with you. This place, you, are his escape, his freedom, and you do your best to ensure he enjoys every moment in your presence.

>>He settles you in the passenger seat of your old battered 'speeder, then slips behind the controls and powers it up. The Sith Lord could easily afford a new one, but that would draw attention to you that you would rather avoid. No, his wealth means nothing to you. It is as unimportant as to you as the power he wields.

He brings you small gifts occasionally - jewels and necklaces mostly - but you keep them hidden beneath your clothes whenever you are out and about. You wear them only to be reminded of him; his touch is worth more to you than a thousand precious gems.

His need for secrecy has never bothered you. You have never felt that he is ashamed of you, only that he wishes to protect you from the harsh realities of his position.

"Where to, my Lady?" he asks.

"The bluffs," you decide.

Not the closest place nearby, but if the weather holds you will make it with little trouble.

>>You quickly leave the spaceport and the small settlement beside it far behind. The Sith Lord loves to drive fast, so he pushes the 'speeder's engines to their maximum capacity. Air rushes past your ears. The countryside becomes a blur.

>>Laughing at the sensation of the wind on your skin, you pull off the scarf around your hair and let it blow free. There's no need to hide your identity any longer. No one can tell who you are or who you are with at the speeds you are travelling.

>>He glances over at you and you suspect he is smiling behind his mask, enjoying your reaction as much as he does piloting your old craft. You lean against his shoulder, boldly set a hand on his knee, and wait.

You are still some distance from the bluffs when you notice the clouds rolling in over the horizon to your left. The sky is rapidly darkening to an angry purplish black and the air has taken on a yellowish tint.

"Damn!" you breathe. "We'll never make it."

"We'll stop here, then," he decides and begins to slow the 'speeder.

"There's an old manor just over that hill," you point. "It's been abandoned for years. We won't be found there."

He nods his approval. "This will do."

>>The Sith Lord continues in the direction you had pointed, but you know he won't be able to take the 'speeder all the way to the deserted mansion's door. As the ruin looms larger, he surveys the area, then selects a small clump of bimiza trees to hide your transport in.

>>As you help him secure the 'speeder's cover, you can feel the air pressure increase against your skin as the wind begins to blow. This is not good, you decide, not good at all. There is a strong chance you might be trapped in that old wreck of a house overnight, if the storm is as bad as you suspect it will be. And you prefer curling up with your lover in your own large, comfortable bed to making do with what minimal amenities will be available here.

>>"We need to hurry," he tells you, with urgency in his voice. "The storm is almost upon us."

>>He grabs your hand and pulls you towards the manor, but it's already too late.

"Drop," he orders, placing his arms firmly around your waist.

You obediently fall to the ground as the first drops of rain splash against your hair. The trees around you begin to bend and sway mercilessly, and you feel the first sharp tugs of wind lifting under you. Your lover's arms tighten around you, tethering you to him protectively. You will be safe here, you realize. He will not let anything or anyone harm you.

>>Somehow he manages to pull his cloak snugly around you and to anchor it in place despite the wind howling around you both. The light rain will soon turn into a downpour and you will need what little protection the warm rycrit wool will give you.

>>*We'll run for the manor once the wind dies down,* he tells you. *It's too dangerous to try that now.*

>>You nod your agreement against his chest as he secures you even more tightly in his arms. It is impossible to speak aloud and be heard over the roar in your ears.

Despite the chilling discomfort of the wind and rain, you feel content. You close your eyes and allow yourself to enjoy the feeling of his arms wrapped around you, listening to the hypnotic lull of the raindrops against the trees.

>>*It won't be long,* he soothes you, *the winds will soon drop, and we can head for shelter.*

>>How firm his body is next to yours. You can feel the muscles in his upper arms, gauge the breadth of his chest against your own. He is a strong, powerful man and you are grateful for the shelter he is providing and the silent reassurances he is giving you.

>>You know what one of your world's freak summer storms is like.

>>You were accidentally caught in one as a child.

Your mother had frantically searched the house for you and, when she was certain you were not within its walls, sent your father out to look for you. An hour later, when the storm had passed, you returned home soaking wet, chilled, and frightened, but otherwise unharmed.

Your father did not return at all.

>>You shiver against your lover. He feels your distress, and knows its origin. Long ago you told him what happened to you as a child - how you found shelter in a hollow tree until it was safe to go home. How you have always blamed yourself for your father's death.

>>And the Sith Lord understood. He has never once judged you.

>>*It's alright,* he comforts you, *I'll keep you safe.*

>>Your fingers dig into his robes as you cling to him. The worst of the storm has passed overhead; the front with the wildest of the winds is gone now. Soon the torrents will pour down and you will have little time to reach the old manor before you are thoroughly drenched. And the prospect of spending a cold night in that deserted ruin, in sopping wet clothes, does not at all appeal to your sensibilities.

The Sith Lord stands and pulls you to your feet beside him.

"Quickly," he says, pulling you towards the manor at a brisk trot.

You run to keep up with his lengthy, measured strides, reaching the door as the rain starts to pick up; you've made it just in time. A crack of thunder erupts above you as if to verify your thoughts. The door frame has rotted with neglect and the door itself is warped and swollen from disuse. Your companion pushes you behind him and forces the door open with one broad, muscular shoulder.

Always the gentleman, he steps back and indicates for you to enter.

"Ladies first," he teases.

Once inside, you survey your surroundings with dismay as you futilely attempt to tame your hair into some semblance of order.

"My Lady, those clothes will be the death of you," the Sith Lord says, and you feel his hands at your back. "We simply must get you out of them... for your own good, of course."

>>"Of course," you repeat with a laugh.

>>Your dress is clinging damply to your skin and you can feel rivulets of water running down your back from your wet hair. You must be quite a sight to behold, but you would rather disrobe in a room where the windows are intact and there is preferably something dry to replace your clothes with.

>>"If the layout is the same as the old houses in the village," you tell him, pointing to an elegant stone staircase, "the bedrooms should be upstairs."

>>His arm slides about your waist as he guides you over and up the steps in question.

To your surprise, the master bedroom appears to be more or less intact; the walls are made of thick stone and the windowpanes are of ground sandglass - an impractical invention according to the Sith Lord, but you have always found the time-honored traditions of your homeworld to be quaint and comforting, and have often taken pride in their uniqueness. You suspect that underneath his gruff criticism he finds them charming, as well.

The bed itself is blissfully unweathered; it is a massive structure with high posters rising from each corner and a swollen, inviting mattress dressed in sheets of mothsilk spun by hand. A wardrobe rests against the far wall and, upon investigation, you find it full. The dresses are not quite your size, but they will do well enough. You pull out a simple nightgown and lay it on the bed, then begin to hastily strip away your wet garments.

"Not so fast," you hear a teasing voice behind you. "You've haunted my dreams for months now, my dear. I plan to enjoy this."

>>You hear him remove his cloak, now soaked like your clothes are, and toss it over the back of one of the chairs to dry. His tunic quickly joins it, occupying another one of the seats. Creaking leather tells you he has moved closer.

>>His hands brush your back as he starts to help you remove your clothes. The touch of his gloves produces a delightful shiver in anticipation of what he might have planned. Your gown quickly drops to the floor in a sodden heap. You kick it aside as he proceeds to slowly unhook the archaic fasteners of your undergarments, one by one, as if he is carefully opening a gift you have given him.

>>When you are finally, completely exposed to his view, he turns you around and simply looks at you, surveying your body, checking for what, you are not quite sure.

>>Then he yanks the topmost, slightly dusty cover off the bed with a thought, gently picks you up, takes two swift strides and lays you down on top of it. You watch as his lightsaber is set close at hand on the table and his codpiece is dropped to the floor.

>>Your lover is eager to touch you, and you are ready for him.

His hands explore your body with a slow deliberation that frustrates your growing need; it is as if he is seeing and touching you for the first time. When you raise your own fingers to trace the contours of his still-armoured form, he impatiently bats your hand away.

"Up," he says simply, and you comply, raising your arms above your head and out of reach.

He continues his exploration of you and before long you are whimpering, feeling the heat of desire rise to nearly unbearable heights. Each time you reach for him he calmly places your hands back over your head, out of reach.

It seems he has found a new game to play. It seems he plans to make you beg.

>>His fingers move lower, lightly stroking you, always just brushing the inside of your thighs, never getting too close to where you really want them to be. You shift a little, trying to move so that his hand is closer, but he just pulls it back, tormenting you some more.

>>"That's not fair," you scold him.

>>He laughs a little at your discomfort and continues his teasing touches.

"Please..." you moan at last, and this time when you raise your hips against his hand he does not move away.

"Please what?" he asks innocently.

You attempt to glare at him as best you can, but result in producing only a lustful, sexy gaze. This must please him, because he rewards you with several light strokes between your legs that leave you shuddering.

>>Then his fingers are running over your breasts again despite your efforts to persuade him to return his attention elsewhere.

>>He's enjoying this, you realize, annoyed as another moan escapes you. He's enjoying making you squirm and wiggle at his every caress.

>>"Please..." you plead with him.

>>The caresses suddenly stop. He holds his hands above your stomach, poised in anticipation, waiting for what you will say. You just know there is a bratty, triumphant, little smirk on his hidden face.

>>"Please touch me," you beg, finally letting him hear what he wants from you. "I want to feel your hands on me. I want you within me. I want you... "

>>You doubt he will deny you again after hearing that.

You inhale your breath sharply as he moves his body to cover yours, feel a shiver down your spine as he readies himself; both of you savour the delicious anticipation of months without this, without each other. A broad hand touches your cheek lightly before drifting to your waist. There is another languorous pause. He is torturing himself as much as he is you, you realize.

>>Then you feel that oh, so delightful pressure between your thighs as he begins to slowly push against you, push into you. You shift a little to make it easier for him, and hook your feet behind his back.

>>This is much better than his teasing caresses.

>>He stops, barely inside you yet, and waits. You feel his eyes on your face and you know that smirk is still there.

>>"No, not more teasing," you moan.

>>He chuckles and moves his hips back and forth, stroking that shallowest of depths, pulling out and dipping just inside you again.

>>After a minute of this, you decide you've had enough. Carefully timing your movements with his thrusts, you slam your hips up to meet his, and take all of him into you, all at once.

You are rewarded with a guttural, surprised moan from your companion, and you know that the smirk has disappeared. He moves to pull away from you, but you lock your ankles behind his back and hold your legs firmly in place. The Sith Lord is strong enough to pull away, of course, but he doesn't.

"Taking charge, are we?" he asks playfully and begins to move inside you.

"For the moment," you answer.

"Oh no, my dear," he says and cups your breasts with his palms. "You either take it, or you don't."

>>"Then I take it," you decide.

>>You have played this game with him before. He will let you have control for a while, then take it back when it suits his mood to. But for now, he will do whatever you ask him to.

>>"Slow," you decide, "steady, but deep."

>>His movements quickly change to match your request. You moan as he angles each thrust to stroke you inside and out, brushing sensitive places both within and without of you. How unfair, you think as he chuckles at your every passionate reaction.

>>He might be complying with your wishes, but he is going to make you pay for every order that you give him.

"Harder," you moan.

Another synthesized chuckle as he follows your instructions. He maintains the slow, steady pace, but increases the strength of his thrusts, and within moments you are gasping for breath. His hands remain over your breasts and you reach up to place your own palms over his, guiding his movements. Your feel yourself rapidly approaching release.

Then, suddenly, he stops. Buried deep inside you, he remains motionless, and you hear him laugh again.

"Did you think I'd let it be that easy for you?" he asks.

You know that damn smile of his is back.

>>Not this time, Sith Lord, you think to yourself. You know exactly how to get him to finish. Exactly how to get your revenge for his teasing.

>>You carefully rotate your hips, tempting him a little with your motion.

>>He kneads your breasts with his thumbs in response, but refuses to take the bait.

>>Another tactic, then.

>>You close your eyes and concentrate, focussing on one particular group of muscles. When you clamp down on him, hard, he hisses. The second time you perform the same careful contraction he moans and you don't think he can bear it much longer. So you try it a third time.

*Stop that,* he intones. You find it significant that he chose to speak these words within your head and not without.

"No," you answer and squeeze your muscles again.

He groans and you are rewarded with several thrusts of his hips.

*Stop,* he orders again.

"Make me," you answer lasciviously.

>>*Very well,* he half-threatens, *I will.*

>>One of his hands moves down from your breasts, to your stomach, where he holds it motionless, before giving you a teasing caress. You watch, wondering what he has planned, but you don't give him any respite from your persistent squeezes.

>>His fingers trace a slow path lower, settling just above where he is snugly buried within you. He finds the most sensitive part of your body.

>>Then he carefully strokes you.

You cry out, but the sound is lost in the reverberation of thunder as the storm outside intensifies. Lightening strikes the ground outside, bathing you and your lover in intermittent, electric flashes of illumination.

You hear the sharp crack of a tree branch being torn loose outside as you are finally allowed the tantalizing release you crave. Your world explodes in an array of colors and sensations as you cling to him, your Sith Lord, your Vader.

>>His own ecstatic cries sound above you as he thrusts deep and hard into you, precisely in time with your own waves of pleasure.

>>He isn't holding anything back - not any longer.

>>You urge him on, digging your fingers into his back as you feel your body respond to him for a second time.

>>Another ribbon of lightening strikes the ground nearby.

>>"Don't stop!" you scream when your third peak approaches, but his normally iron-clad self-control has finally slipped from his grasp.

>>He grabs your hips, holds your body as tight to his own as he can, then shudders against you as his own climax overwhelms him.

Thunder explodes around you, and the aged foundation of the manor trembles, almost in time with your own shuddering movements. You cling to him, stroking his back, his upper arms, his chest as he recovers from his orgasm, and you from yours.

Slowly, regretfully, he pulls away from you and stretches out across the bed, placing his hands behind his masked head in a gesture so typically post-coital that you cannot help but laugh.

At first he growls at you and shakes his head slowly, but before long he has joined you and is laughing heartily. He reaches for you and you crawl into the protective circle of his arms, resting your cheek against his shoulder.

>>You feel entirely safe here in his arms - in the arms of one of the most powerful men in the galaxy. Others may fear him, flee from his presence, but you never will. In your heart, you know your lover will never hurt you, that he could never harm you. He will always be there to protect you.

>>You snuggle in closer and let out a contented sigh.

>>"Enjoyed that, did you?" he teasingly asks.

>>A nod against his chest is your answer.

>>"Well, then," he decides, "let's rest a few minutes and see if I can't give you another reason to be pleased with me."

>>A smile creeps across your face. You know exactly what he means by that.

You close your eyes and allow your muscles to relax. The storm has not quieted, and despite the comfort you feel in your lover's arms, you cannot help but jump each time lightening flashes through the windows. He pulls you tighter against him.

"We are perfectly safe here," he says softly.

"Mmhm," you mumble against his chest. You're mostly convinced.

Mostly.

>>"You're too tense," he notes, "you need to relax some more."

>>"Mmhm," you agree.

>>He slowly rolls you over onto your stomach. Two firm hands settle on your shoulders, then squeeze and knead and rub, massaging tight muscles.

>>"Ohhhh," you moan as your body starts to melt under his expert touch.

The Sith Lord is a negotiator, a warrior, a commander, an intimidator, a lover. Again you marvel at the never ending facets of his expertise.

"The many talents of Lord Vader," you mumble playfully.

He chuckles softly and brushes a hand across your cheek before returning it to your shoulders. His touch is authoritative, but sensual and as always, despite your exhaustion your body responds to his ministrations.

>>You're completely relaxed now.

>>"Enjoying yourself?" he teases, leaning over to whisper in your ear.

>>"Mmmphff," you answer into the soft pillow.

>>His hands move up and down your back, slide down to your waist, settle on your hips, but he's not massaging you any longer. He has something else in mind now.

>>"Shall I continue with this, or do something else?" he asks, and you can hear the hint of underlying huskiness in his voice which tells you that he is ready for another session of love making.

>>You cheekily wiggle your body in invitation. There will be no objections from you.

He laughs at your playfulness and slides his hands down your sides and over your rear, gently squeezing your flesh.

"I don't think I can take more teasing, my Lord," you half-moan, pushing against him.

"Neither can I," he admits, and his hands drift lower, dipping between your legs to determine if you are ready for him.

You are.

>>His hands slide under you, raise your hips so that your rear is now pointing up in the air. Your body is tipped forward, your weight on your arms. You turn your head to the side to keep from being smothered by the pillow.

>>You deliberately wiggle your butt, teasing him. That earns you a light smack across it.

>>"Behave," he playfully growls at you, "or I might have to discipline you."

>>A quiet snicker escapes from you.

>>"Maybe I need a little discipline," you suggest as you twitch your ass at him again.

>>A second, slightly stinging slap lands on your rear, producing a surprised yelp from you.

>>He pauses while you wait for the next one, then shifts a bit behind you on the bed. You suspect he is preparing to smack you again, but instead of what you expect, he slides himself all the way into you instead.

"Oh gods..." you moan, pushing yourself back against him. His hands grasp your hips firmly and hold you steady, unmoving.

"Like that do you?" he asks.

You moan in response and grind your hips against him. You haven't tried this position before, have always thought it would be degrading and unenjoyable, but as he begins to move within you, you silently curse your reluctance. He is stroking parts of you that you didn't know existed.

>>Wind whistles around the mansion. The bursts of lightening and resounding crashes of accompanying thunder return - the storm has intensified again. Rain pounds against the glass windows, but the only sounds which are of importance to you are his gasps, your moans, and the slap of leather armour against bare flesh.

>>His pace picks up. Deeper, harder. Relentlessly pushing you towards climax. Your soft cries of pleasure urge him on.

>>The Sith Lord responds by moving even faster within you.

>>He is not going to hold himself back this time.

>>You know he is near the edge from the way his hands reflexively twitch on your waist.

You rock back against him, meeting each thrust with wanton abandon. Sounds blend together; the boom of the thunder morphs into the smack of his body against yours, the crack of the lightening into the high-pitched timbre of your cries.

"Don't... stop... don't..." you gasp, and then the first waves of release hit you and words are no longer possible.

>>Your calls to him blend into a scream as your muscles roll around him. It has never been like this before. Never this intense, this strong, this long.

>>His own cry of triumph sounds behind you, above you, merges with your own as he thrusts hard, almost painfully hard, into your body before he falls forward, temporarily spent.

>>And then there is the eerie silence as the storm pauses and he collapses on top of you, pinning you to the bed beneath his weight.

"My Lord?" you ask; with your face pressed into the pillow it comes out as muffled gibberish.

You turn your head to the side.

"My Lord?"

No answer. You begin to fear you've killed him... and you realize that if you have, you are in a very bad position yourself.

Then he laughs. It seems he's read your thoughts again, and is finding that one exceedingly humorous. He rolls off of you and lays on the bed, still laughing.

"Well, you don't know how it feels to be pinned to a bed by a Sith Lord!" you protest indignantly.

This only makes him laugh harder.

"I certainly hope I never learn either, my dear," he exclaims.

Despite yourself, you begin to smile.

>>His arm reaches across your body, rolls you back towards him and settles you on your side next to him. He somehow manages to pull one of the warm mothsilk coverlets overtop of you both.

>>You pull his arm tight around you and sigh. In his embrace you feel safe and protected. He will keep you warm through the night.

>>"You should sleep," he murmurs in your ear.

>>From past experience, you know that he probably won't. The noise from the storm will keep his warrior instincts and reflexes on high alert throughout the night - he will guard you while you sleep.

>>You push your body back against his and feel him once again respond to your closeness. A sensuous, large bulge is now pressing against your back.

>>"My Lord?" you ask.

>>It's your choice, my Lady," he offers, "to take advantage of me, or not."

You think for a moment. You will be sore for days after he leaves if you continue at this rate, but it will be months before you see him again. You twist around in his arms and reach down with one hand to stroke him lightly.

"Is that a yes, then?" he asks, and groans as you squeeze him gently.

>>"Yes, my Lord," you tell him.

>>His hand gently caresses your face, bringing the strong smell of leather to your nose. It is one of the odors you always associate with him. You try to playfully catch his gloved fingers with your teeth.

>>"Very well, then," he concedes. "What would my Lady like me to do?"

>>Your forehead wrinkles while you ponder this. He rarely lets you choose - usually he is the dominant one, not you. While you consider your choices, you continue stroking him, enjoying how his body responds to your touch, how he tries to keep his involuntary gasps from over-riding his respirator.

>>You start to smile..

>>You know exactly what you want to do.

>>"Roll over on your back," you tell your lover as you release him from your hand.

He dutifully follows your instructions. You roll on top of him slowly and stretch out on top of him, enjoying the feel of his armor against your bare skin, still slick with sweat from your previous bout of lovemaking. You drag your breasts across his leather clad chest and shudder as they tighten in response. A quiet moan escapes your lips.

"May I join in the fun?" he asks calmly.

Reaching down with one hand, you take hold of him lightly, encircling him with your index finger and thumb.

"If you ask nicely," you reply huskily.

>>"Please?" he teases and you hear his unspoken need.

>>"Of course, my Lord," you answer, laughing a little at the longing he tried to keep from his voice. You heard it anyway.

>>His hands help you sit up a little so that he can reach your breasts. He cups them, then lightly brushes them with his fingers, causing your nipples to harden in response.

>>Your own hand matches his every caress with a firm stroke against him. There are no more ragged breaths from him. His self-control has returned now, you note. He will only let himself go when he wills it, not when his body is ready to.

>>One of his hands migrates from your breast to your waist, making its way even lower on your body. You know what he intends to do, but you decide you would prefer something else inside you instead.

>>"Help me, please," you request as you let him go again.

>>Two strong hands seize your waist and lift you up above him.

He lowers you back down and slides inside of you slowly. You allow your head to fall back and your eyes to drift closed. You place your palms flat against his chest to steady yourself and begin to rock your hips.

He grunts and moves his hands back to your breasts, pinching your nipples gently.

"Yesssssss," you hiss.

>>You move faster, up and down, setting a pace designed to drive yourself over the edge. With every downwards motion, you cry out as you are stroked deeply inside.

>>"Oh, gods," you call to your lover, "ohhhh."

>>The Sith Lord lets out a low rumbling chuckle at the expressions on your face. His hands continue to caress you.

>>It's too much, you decide, when he bucks his hips up to meet you. Your body reacts, its internal dance consumes you, and you fall forward, to be caught in his arms against his chest.

>>He's still hard and ready within you, your overwhelmed mind calmly notes.

You are panting and gasping for breath as you lay on top of him, your limbs are liquid and you wrap your arms around his neck, clinging to him. He continues to push against you with his hips, continues to the rhythm you established.

Grabbing your waist tightly he rolls to the left and flips your positions so that he is once again above you.

"Better?" he asks.

You nod through your moans as your second climax approaches.

>>His thrusts never stop, never pause as you ride the rolling waves within you.

>>"My Lord," you gasp as you claw at his back, then dare to say it for the first time, "my love."

>>If he hears your words, he gives no outward sign of it. His pace picks up and you know that this time he will let himself go.

>>A low moan escapes from him, then several deep hard thrusts slam into your body before his back arches and he pulls you down to meet him. He grinds his hips against you in an attempt to push even more of himself in.

>>Then he shudders and is finished.

>>You feel him slide out from your body and a slow trickle of liquid indicating that he truly did let himself orgasm completely this time. It is a strange, almost unfamiliar sensation. He hasn't allowed his control to go to that extent since the very first time he made love to you - since the very first time you made love to anyone.

You settle into his arms yet again and bury your head against his shoulder. A rumble of thunder in the distance indicates that the storm is finally passing. You feel a subtle throb between your legs, but you welcome the sensation; you will keep it as reminder of him once he has gone.

"Sleep now, precious," he tells you gently.

You need no encouragement.

>>You are still wrapped in his arms when the first bright rays of the morning sun shine on your face through the windows, rousing you from a deep, sound slumber. Their warmth is no match for what is emanating from the Sith Lord behind you.

>>He's already wide awake, you notice as you listen to the pace of his breathing. His respirator is running in `normal,' not `sleep cycle' mode.

>>You stir a little in his arms, shifting yourself closer to his chest.

>>"Awake?" he softly murmurs in your ear.

>>"Yes, my Lord," you quietly answer.

"I trust you slept well?"

A nod against his chest. It's when you are alone that the insomnia comes. When he is with you, your sleep is always peaceful and relaxed.

He holds you for a time longer, neither of you wanting to break the quiet, tender moment. When you rouse yourself, you search the room to find your dress in a sopping heap on the floor where you'd droppedit. You forgot to hang it up to dry.

You rummage through the wardrobe against the wall and find an old gown of deep blue mothsilk. The neckline dips into a low curve, and is trimmed with white muslin. You pull the garment over your head and, though it is slightly big for you, find that you like the feel of it.

You look up to see the Sith Lord watching you quietly.

"Do you approve?" you ask and spin in a tight circle, followed by a curtsy. The material flares out at your waist, then settles around your hips once more.

He nods.

"I can't find any undergarments, though," you fuss, looking around.

"Unnecessary," he states.

>>Your eyes spot a pair of matching blue ankle boots on a shelf. They are made of soft nerf hide, so you put them on. Surprisingly, they fit as if they were made for you. You will not need to worry about blistered feet today. Letting out a sigh of relief, you turn about to look at your lover.

>>He has abandoned his lounging position on the bed and gone to check on the state of his own clothing. You watch as he gives his tunic a quick shake. It's dry already - a property of the expensive rycrit wool both it and his cloak are made of.

>>"Let me help you, my Lord," you volunteer.

>>Each morning he has been with you, this is a task he has allowed you to do. It is a chore you thoroughly enjoy - one way you can show how you feel for him without saying it aloud.

>>"As you wish, my Lady," he gives his consent.

>>You make your way to his side to help him dress. He's already replaced his codpiece, but there are other tasks to do still. After he drops the tunic over his shoulders, you drape it over his body, ensuring that it lies flat against his leather armour. It takes little time to secure his belt. The Sith Lord graciously accepts his hard chest armour from you, replaces it, then his cloak is about his shoulders and swirling around his feet again. His lightsaber, he calls to his hand from where he set it last night.

>>He's now dressed and ready to go.

>>For a moment, you stand there admiring him. For today, he's yours. There will be nothing and no one to interrupt your next few precious hours with him.

>>"Shall we go for a walk?" he asks as he offers you his arm.

You take his arm lightly, and he gives your hand a pat, tucking it firmly into the crook of his elbow. He leads you from the room and back to the open foyer. You descend the stone staircase together with all the grandeur and flourish of the featured guests at a grand reception.

You walk through the double doors and out into the crisp, morning air. The rich, heady smell of rain and soil assaults your immediately, and you are struck by the silence that so often follows a great storm. Together you wander aimlessly through the fields behind the manor, examining the flowers, grasses, and trees as if you are seeing them for the first time.

Indeed, things look entirely different this morning, with him at your side. You cannot identify it specifically, but you sense that he can; he is quiet, almost reverent, in his survey of your surroundings.

>>You stop by a clump of bright flowers. In the aftermath of the storm they have been bent over, but their stems are beginning to straighten once more. The Sith Lord releases your hand, bends down and picks one for you. You know what this flower is, what its effects can be, but you take it from his hand, bury your nose among the petals and breathe deeply anyway.

>>Its perfume makes you slightly dizzy and inflames your desires as your homeworld's most potent aphrodisiac enters your system.

>>You let a slow, seductive smile appear, rest your free hand against his chest, and wait for him to sense your mood.

>>"Want me again so soon, my lady?" the Sith Lord teases once he does.

>>A slow nod of your head is your reply.

>>You want him right now.

>>And you won't take `no' for an answer.

"Wouldn't you care to walk a bit more first?" he asks jokingly.

Your hand drifts across his armor languidly and you smile at him again. You shake your head coyly and glance down at the bed of flowers.

Strong hands circle your waist and lift you up off your feet. He holds you up effortlessly, then gently lays you down amidst the flowers where you again breathe in the scent of flowers - amplified a hundred times - and feel your body shudder in response.

>>Part of your mind that is still capable of thought wonders if he planned this. He has often surprised you with his knowledge of little known facts about your homeworld. Surely he knows of this flower's alleged effects on human females - how it is supposed to turn even the most reluctant of women into sex-crazed fools.

>>He doesn't bother removing his cloak, simply pulls off his codpiece while he looks down at you.

>>"Hurry, my Lord," you shamelessly urge him on. "I can't bear it any longer."

>>Your body is ready, willing, waiting for him.

>>Then he is kneeling between your legs, your dress has been shoved out of his way and he is preparing to make love to you again.

He pauses as he takes a moment to position himself and you reach out, grab his cloak at the collar and pull him down to you roughly.

"I said NOW!" you roar at him, and only fleetingly recognize your insolence.

The sliver of your consciousness still capable of rational thought expects him to slap you.

The rest of you doesn't care.

Your lover eases himself inside of you gradually, ignoring your attempts to push him faster by clawing at his chest frantically. His rhythm is maddeningly slow and you find yourself close to tears with need and lust.

>>"Now," you plead with him, "now, my lord, please, now."

>>His pace never falters from where he has set it.

>>The torment of unmet desire is driving you mad. You arch your body up towards his and continue your attempts to get him to increase his speed - to give you some release from the tension which fills your trembling muscles. Your hands flail against his back as moans mixed with more begging escape from your throat. Heavy panting gradually replaces your cries as you begin to wear yourself out, but you still haven't received from him what you need.

>>"Please, my Lord," you manage to breathe in a whisper.

>>He can't keep you on the edge like this for much longer. You are desperate for him to finish it. And with your last cry to him for relief, the Sith Lord finally increases the strength of his thrusts.

This gentle nudge is all that you require to push you over the edge. You throw back your head with abandon and let out a primal scream as your world splinters.

Your muscles contract around him and he groans, pushing himself into you harder, faster still. You are his aphrodisiac.

The waves of your climax subside, but you are not sated.

Neither is he.

>>"Again," you demand of him, making no attempt to be polite. "And don't hold anything back this time."

>>Your body will not be satisfied until it is convinced he has truly mated with you. He can't get away with holding himself back from that final intimacy like he normally does. But you suspect he doesn't know that obscure fact about this flower and its effects.

>>"You can't hold anything back," you moan at him as he begins moving inside you again. "You mustn't hold anything back."

>>His pace picks up.

>>The madness of unrequited desire swamps your senses again.

You are like a wild animal beneath him - thrashing, clawing, crying, moaning. Never have you been so desperate, so utterly consumed by lust.

You vaguely hear his grunts and groans as he pounds against you, into you, through you, but they are distant, insignificant sounds compared to your own frantic cries.

"Yesss," you moan. "Oh, Gods, more. More!"

>>The Sith Lord cannot keep this up for much longer, the small, sane fragment of your brain quietly notes. His involuntary gasps are interfering with his automatic breathing already.

>>"My Lady," you hear him cry out to you as his body begins to shake against yours.

>>Deep within you, you feel him become larger for a moment as he stills his thrusts, then arches his back as he lets himself go completely.

>>He thrusts a few more times after that, easily sliding in and out of your now well lubricated body, but he is shrinking rapidly and soon falls out with a wet squelching noise.

>>Then he starts laughing as he pulls a few flowers from their stems and sprinkles their petals over your sweaty, exhausted, and now slightly sore, self.

>>"You," you growl at him.

"Me?" he asks casually as he leans back in the flowers and props himself on one arm. It is impossible, you note, for him to look even the slightest bit innocent.

"Who do you think you are?" you ask. You attempt to scowl at him, but your efforts result in a lopsided, satisfied grin.

"I," he states grandly, "am Lord Vader, my dear."

"You're a sneaky Sith Lord is what you are," you mutter, then pull a clump of grass and dirt from the ground and toss it in his direction. It smacks into his mask with a satisfying plop and slides off.

>>His laughter resumes, to your annoyance. He knew exactly what that flower's pollen would do to you.

>>You playfully growl at him again, and pounce, tackling him, knocking him over and onto his back. He promptly grabs your waist with his hands and rolls, pinning you beneath him.

>>Not wanting him to get away with his trick that easily, you do your best to wrestle with him.

>>Soon the bed of flowers has been completely crushed beneath you both. Finally giving up your efforts to win, you simply lie in his arms and let out a contented sigh. For a while you stare up at the sky with him and let your imagination turn the clouds into fluffy castles floating peacefully above you.

"What is your homeworld like, my Lord?" you ask dreamily. You never ask about his past, never ask about his work. You know these are things he comes to you to escape, but your curiosity overwhelms you.

You feel him stiffen slightly against you.

"Hot," he replies. "Hot, and dry. All desert; no trees, no plants... no flowers, certainly none with properties so nice as these."

You give him a playful shove.

>>He laughs and his mood shifts into a less contemplative one again.

>>"Shall we continue our walk?" he asks as he gets to his feet and offers a hand to help you to yours.

>>You nod and smile, and take his hand. There is a slowly running river and a pond it drains into nearby where you can wash the sweat from your body. And there are other sites close at hand you can explore as well. The walk should be a short, pleasant one.

>>"Let's go to the old pond, my Lord," you suggest. "It's not far."

>>"Very well, my lady," he agrees.

>>You start to stroll with him across the field towards your destination.

As you walk you grasp his hand and thread his large, powerful fingers through your own slender ones. You have the urge to rest your head on his shoulder and giggle aloud at the thought - your height difference makes this a laughable impossibility.

"Something funny?" he asks.

"I've never known a man so tall as you, my Lord," you state with a giggle.

"I should hope you've never known a man such as me period," he intones gravely, but there is laughter in his voice.

"My one and only," you state proudly.

He gives your hand a squeeze. "I know. But I do enjoy hearing you say it."

>>The Sith Lord knows, you realize. He really did hear what you said to him last night, though he has given no hint of that until now.

>>You look away for a few seconds to compose yourself. In all your days together, you have only told him what you truly feel that one time. It is something you have been afraid to confess to him because you do not know if your feelings are returned in kind.

>>He has never once revealed his innermost heart to you.

>>If he senses your emotional turmoil, he gives no sign of it. He continues to walk at your side enjoying the field of deep green grasses and bright flowers you are crossing. As you go, you spot several of your favorite wildflowers, stop him with a tug on his hand, and pick a few of them.

He takes the flowers from your hand and sets them gently into your hair.

"There," he says, proud of his handiwork.

You lower your eyes as you feel your cheeks begin to burn. He has been acting strange since he arrived yesterday, and you cannot understand it, nor do you want to. He is never this affectionate or playful. He has always been gentle with you, of course, and kind, but reserved. You don't sense that in him today.

And this is why you worry: if he had doubts before, he has let them go. Something has happened, or is about to happen, and he knows it.

He's acting as if this will be your last time together.

>>You don't want to lose him.

>>Not now, not when your heart and feelings are clear, crystal clear for the very first time in your life.

>>You love him.

>>You love this man despite who he is, despite what he is - none of that matters to you.

>>It will never matter to you.

>>But if you are to lose him today, then you will make every single minute of it count. Whatever he wants to do, you will do, freely, willingly, without hesitation. You silently vow to give him a day he will never forget.

>>Never.

Eventually you reach the small pond you mentioned earlier. The water is cool and crystal clear, with small, smooth stones resting at the bottom, which, at its deepest is only just over your head.

You pull him to the water's edge and peel away your clothes before wading into the water slowly, unabashed by your nakedness. You are alone, and you know you have nothing to fear with a Sith Lord watching over you.

You walk out into the pool until the water tickles your neck and stand, arms outstretch, palms open, letting the currents drift over your skin like whispers.

The Sith Lord settles himself on the banks of the pond, lounging on the grass as he watches you intently. You look at him and smile brightly, raising your hand in a wave, he lifts his own in response.

>>Letting your feet rise in the buoyant water, you decide to float on your back for a time. The setting and presence of your lover nearby allow you to relax completely. Closing your eyes, you sigh, and let the sound of the water soothe you.

>>Then a few drops of water splash onto your face.

>>You frown and shake your head a little to clear them. It isn't raining so where did they come from?

>>When no more fall, you shut your eyes and relax again. Must have been that odd cloud overhead, you decide, just a brief passing shower.

>>A few more, larger drops splatter onto you.

>>You open one eye a slit and look over at the bank. There is a Sith Lord over there, hand raised and stretched out in your direction, you note.

>>"Stop that," you scold him a little.

His laughter floats across the water to you and you are smacked in the face by a large wave.

"That's it!" you call, and standing, begin to stalk to the shore. You stand above his lounging form, hair soaked and dripping. "You, sir, are in trouble."

This only makes him laugh harder.

>>Setting your hands on you hips, you do your best to glare at him, but soon you are laughing yourself. He's like a little boy today, playing pranks on the girl he likes to tease the most. How you wish he was always like this - relaxed and playful - but you know his mood won't last.

>>You continue to give him dirty looks, but you are incapable of being annoyed with him for very long and he knows it. So you smile at him instead and slip to your knees beside him.

>>His hand reaches over to touch your face.

>>A few drops from your wet hair fall onto his glove.

>>You stay frozen for a moment, each waiting for the other to move or speak first.

You open your mouth to speak and he stops you, placing a finger lightly over your lips, then shakes his head slightly. You kiss his finger, then grab his hand and plant a kiss against his gloved palm.

Then he pulls you to him gently. In this position, you are able to circle your arms around his neck, and you do not ignore the opportunity, resting your cheek against the side of his helmet. He runs his hands lightly across your arms and down your sides, causing you to shiver in delight.

>>The slight breeze on your wet skin is beginning to produce bumps on it, so your next shiver is one of slight cold.

>>"Let me warm you up," he offers, pulling you in tight.

>>He wraps his cloak around your back, creating a warm cocoon of rycrit wool and mothsilk around you both. You settle your head against his shoulder and let out a truly contented sigh.

>>"Thank you, my Lord," you whisper to him.

>>There is nowhere else you would rather be than exactly where you are at the moment. In your lover's arms, safely protected, and you hope, deep within your soul, loved.

You remain in his arms for some time, neither of you wanting to pull away or break the embrace.

You mind begins to wander, and you find yourself considering impossible things. You were a virgin in every way when he found you, and you have never kissed a man. You want to know what it would feel like to press your lips against his, to feel his mouth on your skin. You want to know the color of his eyes.

You hurriedly push these thoughts from your mind. No good can come of them. You do not know what happened to necessitate his mask or life support, but he has told you that they cannot be removed. If he senses these thoughts of yours - and he always knows what you are thinking - he may become angry with you, as he did the one time you dared to ask him about his past.

>>"Anakin," he whispers in your ear. "I was once called Anakin."

>>He heard your thoughts, you realize, and has decided to entrust you with this one precious piece of himself. A piece of his mysterious, secret past.

>>"Anakin," you quietly repeat, carefully reproducing the inflections he used.

>>"It is a name I abandoned long ago," he softly confesses to you. "Along with my youth and innocence."

>>You feel a single tear swell in the corner of your eye, then escape to trace a trail down your cheek. What happened to the young man he once was? To this person named Anakin?

>>A gloved hand gently brushes your tear away.

>>"Shhh," he soothes as he eases you onto your back. "Don't weep for my past, just live with me in the moment, for today."

You reach up and touch his mask with your hands, tracing the contours of the smooth black durasteel.

"Today," you whisper quietly as you speak his name in your mind again, savoring the intimacy.

He reaches up with a gloved hand and mirrors your movements; as you explore his mask, he explores your face, tracing the curve of your lips, the tiny swell of your cheekbones, your nose.

His other hand drops to your waist and begins caressing your side lightly.

>>You shift a little in invitation and he takes it. His fingers move lower, caress you before he slides two of them deep inside. He's getting you ready for himself again. Despite your attempts not to, you flinch a little as he starts to slowly move them in and out.

>>There have been too many sessions of this in the last day already for you not to feel their effects.

>>"Sore?" he quietly asks.

>>When you nod, too shy to complain aloud to him, he stops his hand. There is a soothing warmth between your legs, then the pain disappears.

>>"We can't have that, my Lady," he teases, "now, can we?"

>>His fingers resume stroking you inside again.

"How do you do that?" you moan. He has explained the Force to you before, but every time he uses his abilities around you, you cannot help but watch with wide-eyed wonder.

"Magic," he murmurs against your ear.

"I bet you tell that to all the girls," you tease breathily.

"Mmhm," he chuckles, and his fingers find that spot inside of you that always causes you to lose control.

You inhale sharply and he chuckles again.

"You were saying?" he asks.

"I..." you allow your words to trail off as you moan.

>>His touch within you is a perfect balance of gentle and strong, firm but yielding when you shudder a little.

>>"Ohhh, Gods," you cry out as he continues pushing you to the edge.

>>He doesn't let you reach it. Somehow he quickly, gracefully, has his codpiece off again with his free hand and his fingers are not what he is thrusting into you now.

>>You wrap your legs around his back and let the waves of pleasure he is producing in you overwhelm your senses

You are more alert for this bout of lovemaking than the last, and you open your eyes to watch him intently, savoring the sensations he is producing within you.

He places one hand on your cheek and curls his fingers around your chin, tipping your face up. You fight the urge to let your eyes drift closed again and force yourself to watch him as he moves above you.

>>This time he goes slowly, drawing every bit of himself out, then sliding back in again. You are in complete control of your body - there will be no repeat of the aphrodisiac's induced madness.

>>The Sith Lord stops a moment and caresses your face. You know he is enjoying this from the way his thumb brushes against your lips. To urge him to continue, you use your muscles to squeeze him.

>>He breathes in deeply, then chuckles a little as the pressure eases off.

>>"That's a clever trick you've learned since my last visit," he observes.

>>"I've been practicing," you tease him, smiling at his gasp in reaction, as you clamp down a second time, holding your muscles tight as long as you can.

>>He grunts at that and starts thrusting again.

He gradually quickens his pace and you feel yourself approaching the edge. This time, he lets you step off it.

You feel his body tense in time with yours, and realize that he has let himself go as well. He remains still as your shudders subside, then eases himself from you slowly. He caresses your face again and you hear him sigh.

"My Lord?" you ask tentatively.

"You please me greatly," he answers.

>>You smile at that. Much of your time while he is away is spent imagining ways that you can amuse him. New positions to try, new tricks you can do with your body, new places he might enjoy visiting that you will take him to.

>>Your Lord is an experienced man of the galaxy and you often wonder if your rustic world and simple pleasures really satisfy his needs.

>>"You always satisfy my needs," he responds to that thought, running a finger along your cheekbone.

>>"Do I?" you question, still a touch unsure of yourself.

>>"Yes," he firmly states, silencing any further words from you with a touch to your lips. "Now I want you relax here with me for a while. Then we will continue our walk."

This is an offer you can't - and won't - refuse. For as much planning as you put into his visits, you would be equally happy doing nothing at all but sitting in the safe circle of his arms.

You settle yourself comfortably into your familiar spot, body wrapped snugly against his right side, one arm resting on his chest, the other curled against you, head nestled into the crook of his shoulder. This is *your spot*, and you fit perfectly against him, as if you were made to fit in his arms.

A faint chirping noise drifts towards you from across the pond and you relax even further at the sound - it is a creature exclusive to your world, a small, aviary species with brightly colored skin. You caught one and kept it as a child, and have always found the sound soothing.

>>"There is a kipa-kipa nearby," the Sith Lord identifies the source of the quiet calls.

>>"Yes," you confirm, surprised that he recognized it.

>>"You told me about your childhood pet," he admits, "so I looked it up to see exactly what it was."

>>"Oh," you answer.

>>After the encounter with the flowers, you decide, his admission shouldn't surprise you that much. He has obviously spent some time in the months since his last visit educating himself about your world.

>>"Perhaps I should find you another one," he offers, "to keep you company when I am gone."

You smile broadly at him. "I do not think, my Lord, that a kipa-kipa will come close to filling the void I feel when you are away from here..."

You trail off as you realize what you have said. He knows how you feel, knows what you are thinking, but you are wary of voicing these thoughts. He squeezes you gently and says nothing. You remain sile nt andlisten to the creature's song again. Yes, you decide, another pet would be nice.

"Then I shall have to get you one," he answers your thoughts and gives you another squeeze.

>>"Thank you, my Lord," you answer, not sure what else to say.

>>For many minutes you stay where you are, enjoying the day, his presence beside you and the soft serenade of the kipa-kipa.

>>"Shall we continue our walk?" he asks after the little creature finally takes wing and disappears.

>>You reluctantly relinquish *your spot*, stand up and retrieve your dress. There is a waterfall up the river from here. It is not too long a walk and, from what you remember, the scenery is pretty. He might enjoy exploring that with you. As you put on your stolen clothing, you feel two firm hands tug the cloth into place down your back. When you playfully lean backwards, they move, slide around your waist and pull you close for a minute.

>>"Time to go," he decides as he lets you go and offers his arm once again.

You walk around the delicate curve of the pond's edge, and follow the small river of its source further north into the rolling countryside. Tall tress flank the river on either side, flourishing with the nutrients of the water, and you hear the call of the kipa-kipa grow louder as you draw closer to the source.

Soon the bird's call is drowned out by the sound of fast-moving, crashing water - a waterfall looms ahead and arm in arm you walk towards it. You feel the cool splash of water against your face when you approach. To your delight, you see a smooth, hard rock face behind the cascade, and in the center of the rock, an opening. A cave.

"Shall we go exploring, my Lord?" you ask happily.

"There could be monsters..." he says with mock caution.

"How fortunate for me," you reply smoothly, "that I have the protection of the strongest, most skilled man in the galaxy, then."

>>"Flatterer," he teases with a laugh.

>>You unsuccessfully try to hide a smile. He takes a firm grip on your hand, pulling you towards the cave you had spotted. The rocks beside the river are slick with spray from the waterfall. Caution, then, is a wise idea here.

>>Passing the first rocky obstacle, he draws you under the shower of water. A few drops splatter on both of you, but the wide, solid ledge allows you to avoid most of it.

>>The cave entrance is damp, so you move slightly deeper into it. It is an old cavern, you decide as you touch one of the stalactites within reach. Water dripping from the ceiling has created a wonderland for you to explore. Pillars extend from roof to floor; delicate falls of carbonate decorate the walls.

>>You turn to say something to your lover, but find your voice drowned by the roar of the cascading waterfall behind you.

You step deeper still into the cave, you hand snug and tight within the Sith Lord's. You stand at the edge of a small puddle of liquid dripping from one of the stalactites, shimmering a strange array of colors. Looking closer, you see a small stalagmite rising up from the puddle of minerals and water. Delighted, you crouch down and peer closer.

"Careful," you hear him growl. "Don't fall."

You laugh and tug on his hand. "Wouldn't you catch me?" you flirt.

"Not if you pull me down with you and I crush you like a bantha," he answers wryly.

You try your best to suppress another laugh.

>>He's a big man, not just in his body frame and powerful personality, but you don't have any basis for comparison, just your experience of him inside you to go by.

>>There is a snort beside you are he picks up on that thought.

>>"I am perfectly proportioned for my size," he admits, amused. "Do you need me to prove that to you again?"

You laugh throatily and flash him your best "come hither" smile.

"Do you feel the need to prove it to me again, my Lord?" you arch an eyebrow at him.

His hands circle your waist and lift you up off your feet effortlessly. Instinctively, you wrap your legs around his waist, locking your ankles at the small of his back. You are now eye-level with him and you grip his shoulders tightly.

"You are not the most subtle temptress, are you?" he murmurs, walking forward until you feel the cold, wet stone of the cave wall against your back. One hand disappears from your waist and goes to work on removing his codpiece.

"I don't have the time for subtle," you reply.

>>"Neither do I," he admits as his codpiece drops to the floor of the cave.

>>A moment later he shoves himself into you with one swift, sure thrust. You gasp as he hits new places in you and his movements stroke you inside and out.

>>"Oh, gods," you moan, digging your fingers into his cloak and robes, scrabbling for a firmer grip on him.

>>"Hang on tight," he growls at you. "I don't want to lose my balance."

>>You increase your grip around his waist, squeezing him as hard as your body will let you. With the sensations you are experiencing, it is not easy to divide your attention this way. All you want to do is concentrate on him, what he is doing to you, how you are reacting to him.

>>He thrusts harder, and steadies you against the wall with one hand. The Sith Lord doesn't want to risk a fall, part of your mind notes. The rest of your conscious thoughts are centered on what is happening between your legs and within you.

>>"Oh, gods," you repeat as his pace picks up again.

Your positions do not allow a great deal of movement, but your lover establishes a steady rhythm deep within you. You have no complaints. Your back is pressed firmly against the wall and you hold onto his broad shoulders as firmly as you are able.

The Sith Lord grunts sharply and you let out along, low moan. Both of you are close to the edge, you realize, and release is not far.

>>His back arches a little as he finally buries himself completely in you and lets himself go. Your body reacts to his and soon you are shuddering as well. He holds you close after that, while you both recover, then slowly lowers you to your feet once more.

>>You begin to wonder what other positions he has in mind to try today as you smooth your dress back in place and he replaces his codpiece.

>>"Let's explore a bit further," he suggests, taking your hand once again. "There might be something interesting to be found."

>>"Or another position to be tried," you slyly offer, but he is tugging you along, intent on having a look about the cavern instead.

Temporarily defeated, but not willing to surrender, you follow him through the cave as he looks around. You are reminded of a young child excitedly exploring a secret hideout.

"Not exploring," he says distractedly. "Investigating."

"Mmmhm," you tease.

"Empirical curiosity." he insists.

"Of course, my Lord," you giggle.

You are deep within the cave now; the roar of the waterfall has faded to a whisper and your nostrils fill with the rich, heady scent of rock and soil. You inhale deeply, tipping your head back, and notice something sparkling high above your head on the cavern wall.

"My Lord," you say and tug on his arm with one hand, pointing with the other.

With a flick of his wrist, Vader has pried it free and floats it towards you with the Force. The object settles easily into your open palm and you gasp - a gemstone, blue like the waters of the deep ocean.

"For the lady," he comments, and gives a slight bow.

>>You close your fingers around it, look up at him and smile. In this moment it is the man he once was who is before you, not the dreaded Sith Lord.

>>"My Lord," you softly say. "My Love."

>>He silences you with a gloved fingertip resting on your lips.

>>"Say no more," he warns you, "For we have only today, will only ever have today."

"But why must you go so soon?" you plead, hoping that the yearning in your eyes will touch him. You reach up and take hold of his hand, placing the flat palm against your cheek.

His hand lingers for a moment, then trails downward to trace your collarbone lightly. He shakes his head slightly; there is warning in his gesture and you wisely fall silent. You content yourself with studying the contours of his armor, reaching out a tentative finger to feel the smooth material, drifting across the grooves and ridges; you wonder if he can feel your touch at all, if he delights in it as you do in his.

>>"I do," he admits, and you know he has read your thought. "I always feel your touch when you touch me here."

>>His hand catches yours and sets it against his chest, below the hard armour and beside his life support controls.

>>Over his heart.

>>"My gallant knight," you tease, realizing he has chosen to play the game of courtly love with you.

>>"My beautiful Lady," he offers in return as he pulls you back towards the entrance of the cave. "Shall we go elsewhere to finish our day?"

>>He guides you out of the cave, catches your arm, rescuing you when you slip a little on the moss covered rocks. You smile in gratitude and let him help you up the riverbank.

>>Ripe fruit on a tree overlooking the stream beckon to you. Leaving his side, you fetch yourself one. He soon joins you again, so you find a shady spot and settle yourself on the ground next to him.

>>The fruit is sweet, over-ripe, and it's juice runs down your chin when you bite into it. He laughs a little at the mess as you quickly lick your lips and use your sleeve to dab the remains of your lunch away. You love that deep rumble of his which he so very rarely lets out.

>>Today you want him to let it out.

You grin at him shyly, hoping that your gaze has achieved that sensual lure you so often see in other, more beautiful women, but never felt qualified to give before. Today, you are no ordinary woman, no little girl. Today you are his, and you are the only two people alive, the only ones that matter.

Pulling yourself to your feet, you extend your arms out at your sides and throw your head back to gaze at the pristine blue sky. You begin to spin around yourself again and again, laughing as you twirl. When you stop, you are dizzy, and lose your balance. Before you can fall, he is there, strong arms circling around your waist, holding you up.

You smile at him, see your own face reflected back at you imperfectly. You cannot see his face, but you sense that he is smiling.

"May I have this dance, my lord?" you ask.

>>"Of course, my lady," he answers, the smile now audible in his voice.

>>His arms shift you into a dance hold, one of his arms behind your back the other hand gripping yours.

>>And then you are off, waltzing across the meadow in time to an unseen orchestra as he spins you about. The smell of crushed flowers reaches your nose, their sweet perfume released as you tread on them. Finally he has enough of this joyous game, swirls you about one last time before stopping, and pulls you down to kneel with him, facing him, in the center of a sea of green grass and brightly colored blossoms.

>>You stay there, staring at one another, your hands in his, for many long minutes after that.

You bring his hands to your lips and kiss his gloved fingertips, teasingly.

"How may I please you, my Lord?" you ask earnestly.

"I am already pleased," he responds smoothly and his hands begin to wander over your body intently.

Sensing his needs you ease yourself back against the flowers and pull him with you, against you, feeling the glorious sensation of his weight atop you. You find yourself wishing that you could see him for all that he is, beyond the armor and the mask, that you could truly know him as he knows you.

"Close your eyes," he instructs.

>>There is an odd prickling sensation over your skin, behind your eyes, then a face appears in your mind. A young man with the most incredibly blue eyes you have ever seen. Eyes you could easily drown in.

>>"Is that you?" you ask him, but you already know the answer.

>>"I prefer to see myself the way I once was,"' he admits, "not as I am today."

>>A hand touches your face, but it is no longer gloved. The warmth from his flesh - is it real or not? - raises goosebumps as he draws his fingers down your neck to the top of your dress. With a touch, he begins to open it again, slowly, seductively, inch by inch, he exposes your body to his view.

>>Keeping your eyes closed, you raise your hands to his chest and instead of his armour, find smooth hard muscles underneath taut skin.

You run your fingers across his chest, tracing the grooves and ridges of his muscles. He is beautiful, and eerily powerful in this form. He lowers his head to your neck and leaves a trail of soft kisses across your shoulder and down the swell of your breasts. If this is an illusion, you think to yourself, you don't care.

Your head falls backwards as you surrender to his ministrations. You are a blank canvas for him and his lips paint you with prose. Long after he has left you and the illusion has faded, you will tell his story. You were born for him to shape, mold and create, you realize. You were made for this - for him.

>>His hands join his mouth in exploration of your body. Slow, feather-light caresses brush every inch of you, bringing complete relaxation in their wake. As he continues, you start to shiver in delight, anticipating what he might do next.

>>When he pauses for a moment to look in your face, depriving you of his touch, you wrap your arms around him and complain a little.

>>"Don't stop," you insist, drawing him close to you. "Don't ever stop."

>>Then his mouth is on yours, his hands on your body once again, and you lose yourself in the illusion he has created.

You caress his neck as you kiss him hungrily, threading your fingers through the rich, full curls of his hair, pressing your body against his. Your other hand slips around his waist and tugs on his lower back, pulling him against you.

"My Lord," you moan against his lips.

*Shhh,* he whispers softly into your mind. *Call me Anakin.*

"Anakin," you comply, moaning his given name. You know the significant of his request, but your wonder is swept away in the seas of your passion.

>>"Anakin," you repeat when his mouth reaches your ear.

>>He nibbles on it for a moment, then turns his attention to the other one. Somehow he knows precisely where to set his lips, the exact spot on your neck to concentrate on. You giggle a little as his tongue finds a ticklish spot before he returns his mouth to yours again.

>>Your hands move lower, and to your surprise encounter cloth. He chuckles a little at your startled reaction, then the fabric is gone, and there is nothing left between you.

>>And from what you can feel against your skin, you know he is as ready for you as you are for him.

Your legs part for him, seemingly of their own accord and your arch your back to press yourself against him. To your surprise, he pulls away.

"Look at me," he says softly.

You open your eyes and stare into the liquid blue expanse of his.

"Tell me you love me," he orders.

"I love you," you say.

"Tell me you want me."

"I want you, Anakin," you whisper.

Then he is within you, moving with slow, fluid grace.

>>You lightly set your hands against his chest, and close your eyes again, wanting just to feel his touch, feel every sensation he produces within you. His arms are beside you now, supporting the rise and fall of his firm, strong body against yours.

>>A playful kiss prompts you to open your eyes again.

>>He looks at you and smiles, a slow, boyish grin that you know he rarely indulges in. His eyes sparkle with amusement as you try to return his kiss, only to have him lean back and deny you that. Not once does he lose pace, or slow; every thrust is precisely, perfectly timed. Such an expert lover is he, your Anakin.

>>Your hands reach around his back, and nails dig into bare skin as you try to hold onto him, try to hold onto the illusion he has created. How much is real, how much is dream?

>>You decide you really don't care.

Your moans crescendo as he increases his pace until your cries are an aria of pleasure and pain. He continues to tease and torture you, pushing your body and your mind to places you have never seen before, and never will again. You stare at him intently, burning his image into your memory so that when he is gone, this picture will remain.

>>And then there is nothing but sweet shared, harmonious ecstasy as he holds you close, tight to his chest. But for you there is no respite, no pause, no rest. His body shivers against yours, yours against his, as he calls you lover, shouts out your name.

>>Your own voice joins his, singing a duet, "Anakin, my Lord, my lover, my mate."

>>Then you both fall silent, sated once again. The only sounds to be heard are the orchestra of birds in the trees and the rustling of grasses and flowers gently blowing in the breeze.

>>He relaxes at last, rests his head on your shoulder, so you reach up to his face, let your touch grow bolder. You brush cool fingers through his tangled, sweaty mane, soothing, easing, hoping that you can, for a moment, help him forget his pain.

You sense something entirely unexpected in him as you stroke your fingers across his face: grief.

"My love..." you whisper, brushing your fingers across his lips.

He grabs your hand with his and kisses your fingers in turn, squeezing you tightly.

"Everything good fades away," he murmurs against your skin, pressing his face against your breasts.

"No," you speak softly against his hair. "I am yours forever."

>>Then your eyes close again and you feel him stiffen against you before he shifts his weight up and away from your body. You ache at the loss of contact, the separation of his flesh from yours.

>>"What is it?" you whisper to him.

>>There is no answer.

>>"What is it, Anakin?" you ask a second time.

>>"Shh...," he warns, setting a now gloved finger across your lips.

>>The Sith Lord has returned; Anakin's illusion has shattered.

Your heart sinks a bit as you look at him and see only your reflection, as the rhythmic cycle of his breathing returns to your ears. He has gone rigid and pulled himself into a crouching position, his entire body tense, listening.

You reach out for him and he waves your hand away with an impatient gesture.

*I told you to be quiet!* his voice floods your mind and you shrink back into the grass, wanting to sink into the soil and hide. You hate it when he is angry.

*Not angry,* he states, and his tone is gentler this time. *Concentrating.*

>>You sit up beside him and pull his cloak, which he had set aside earlier, over your body, partially covering your head. Wrapped safely in its dark, warm folds, you peer out at him. It is a child's gesture, an attempt to use the familiar to protect and conceal yourself from this unseen, unknown threat which has him so concerned.

>>His head tips, and you know he is tapping into the Force - measuring, weighing the information it is giving him. You can sense that he is debating what he has discovered and having a heated internal argument with himself about what action he should take.

>>*Someone is nearby,* he finally announces. *Someone who should not be here.*

>>You nod in answer, sadly realizing that your day alone with him will probably end in a few minutes.

>>*I don't want to be found here,* he admits as he quickly replaces his codpiece, retrieves his cloak, and helps you back into your dress. *If we are careful, they won't detect us. But I might have to take you with me when I leave.*

You cannot hide your shock, and your jaw drops farther than you thought it capable of. Take you? He has never suggested such a thing before - never even hinted at it. You have never left your homeworld. He has always liked your innocence, calling you his "rarest find". Whomever he has detected must be very unwelcome, indeed.

*Just do as I tell you and do it quickly* he orders.

>>You nod in agreement. He knows what to do and you trust him implicitly in this.

>>*The trees, there,* he tells you, pointing to the clump of bimizas on the side of the meadow opposite the river. *When I tell you to, run to them as fast as you can, and drop to the ground, out of sight.*

>>Your mouth opens in silent protest. What is going to happen to him?

>>*I'll create a distraction,* he slyly reveals.

>>His head tips again as he listens - to what, you are not sure.

>>*Go, now,* he orders, slapping you on the rear end to hurry you along on your way.

Suppressing a giggle you do as he says and run for the trees at breakneck speed. If you didn't know better, you might suspect that this was all a game of his. When you are amongst the trees you fling yourself to the ground, wincing when a rock digs sharply into your side. You stay there, face pressed against the dirt, unmoving.

Then you hear a strange noise, a humming of some sort - you feel it almost more than you hear it, vibrating against the back of your throat, down your spine. You raise your head just enough to peer through the grass and catch a flash of concentrated, red light. Is that...? He has never ignited his lightsaber in your presence, never even permitted you to examine it. The sound is almost hypnotic, and you force yourself to stay down and out of sight as he instructed.

>>There is a crackling, and sharp smell of smoke. He's ignited some of the dry grasses with his blade. The wind is blowing towards the river, so the flames will move in that direction, not towards you.

>>You risk looking up, only to see him a few meters away, running to join you. He dives, somersaults head over heels, landing with a thud, flat on his back right beside you.

>>Then he starts laughing.

>>*I'm a bit out of practice, and too old to be trying that particular stunt,* he wryly admits.

You laugh with him and reach for his hand, give it a light squeeze. He is so comfortable with you, so at ease, even in situations such as this one. You feel an ache in your chest at this realization. You've never before dared to hope that he might love you as you love him, but perhaps...

*I do,* he tells you, and tightens his grip on your hand.

>>Those two short little words stun you into silence. You just lie there, next to him, unable to say anything in return. He loves you, you think as understanding slowly sinks in, he truly does.

>>He shifts a little, sits up beside you and moves so he can look down into your face. Then his free hand brushes your hair back, sweeps it behind your ear, from where it had fallen into your eyes.

>>*I love you,* he admits, repeating your thoughts back to you. *I always have.*

>>The quiet stillness of the moment is broken by a few angry shouts from the direction of the river. Someone is not very happy with the Sith Lord's 'diversion.'

>>*No time to linger,* he announces. *We need to leave, now, and get to my shuttle before they discover we are no longer here.*

He rises to his feet and drops into a crouch, indicating for you to do the same. One of his powerful hands circles your upper arm protectively. The tall grass conceals you completely, but your companion's towering frame can surely be seen.

*Don't worry about me,* he tells you gently. *I have a few more tricks up my sleeve.*

You begin to move swiftly and silently in the direction of your 'speeder, parked not far away.

>>As you move along, you are sure every step, each quiet rustle in the grass, any crack from a broken flower stem, is loud enough to give away your position. But there are no signs your careful progress has been detected.

>>Yet.

>>The Sith Lord stops, pulls you down to the ground again and waits. It is not much farther to your 'speeder. You can see the clump of trees he had hidden it in last night, and there is no indication your pursuers have discovered you. So why is he being cautious once again?

>>*It's an old habit,* he admits.*Whenever it seems everything is going according to plan, watch out.*

>>Shouts sound from behind you.

>>*Because that's when things start to go wrong,* he wryly adds.

You glance behind you frantically and he grabs your chin, snapping it forward again. He points to the 'speeder, now visible.

*GO!* he roars.

You begin to run, lifting up your skirts to prevent yourself from tripping. You cannot help but look behind you, and turn just in time to see a small band of men approaching through the grass. You see your lover flick his hand casually and the men go sprawling backwards, landing hard on the ground. Then he is running after you with long, powerful strides.

You just might get away after all.

>>*Don't stop to look,* he scolds, *keep moving.*

>>This time you do as he ordered and don't spare another glance back. Not until you reach the `speeder and he is at your side.

>>"Who are they?" you ask, curious as you frantically help him tug the cover off.

>>In the minute it takes to remove it, the men in the field have recovered. And they are heading straight for you once again. You throw yourself into the `speeder's passenger seat while he powers up its engines.

>>"You don't want to know," he finally answers.

Then you are off, racing across the plains towards the old spaceport where his shuttle is waiting. You think back to his comment about taking you with him, and wonder at the fortunate coincidence of his transportation. This is the first time he has come to visit you in his shuttle. Had he arrived in his fighter, there would be no room for you to go with him.

You wonder if this is really a coincidence, after all.

>>For he has often told you in the past that his meeting you was not an accident, that fate often plays a hand in the universe at large. That destiny, that word full of portentous meaning, has driven much of his life. And determined his choices.

>>You risk a look over at him, but his eyes never waver from the road ahead of him. There are no hints from his manner that he had planned this. His actions have been spontaneous ones, as far as you can tell.

>>But you are still curious, nonetheless.

You open your mouth to ask the question, then shut it again. Now is neither the time nor the place to question his judgment. He no doubt knows what you are thinking, and will answer you when he chooses to do so. For now, you have more important things to worry about.

He does not slow the 'speeder until the spaceport's battered frame looms large before you. Almost before the craft has stopped he has pulled you out of it and you are walking swiftly to where his shuttle is docked.

"The cover..!" you say.

"Forget it," he barks swiftly. "I'll buy you another damn 'speeder."

>>"But..,." you start to protest.

>>"I said forget it," he repeats, snapping at you a second time. "It's not important and you won't need it again anyway."

>>You cringe a little at his sharp words and try to pull away, but his grip on your arm tightens as he hurries you onto the landing platform. Somehow he remotely activates his shuttle's landing ramp. As it descends, opening like the jaw of some strange creature, he stands beside you impatiently waiting for it to touch the deck.

>>Reality finally sinks in. He's not going to let you stay behind this time and you are afraid to go with him, to go to his world, into the life he leads away from here.

>>You are afraid of leaving the familiarity of everything you have ever known.

>>But from today's events, you know your homeworld is a safe haven no longer.

You let him pull you into the ship and to the controls.

Your mind wanders as you watch him run through the sequences and processes necessary to power up the ship. You never expected your first trip into space to be like this. All of your belongings, your garments, every gift he's ever given you will be left behind along with everything you've ever known.

What will life be like for you now? Will you change?

Will he?

>>He gestures you into the seat beside him, so you adjust the acceleration straps and secure yourself in place. You know that much at least about space travel.

>>The shuttle leaps from the ground at his touch, and you see your home grow ever smaller in the distance as the ship pulls quickly away. Soon the hills have disappeared, then continents emerge as you reach the point where atmosphere and vacuum meet.

>>You feel a twinge of sadness as you realize this will probably be your very last sight of your homeworld. Before you can comment, though, the Sith Lord touches a few more controls, and the planet below you vanishes, replaced by streaks of brilliant white light.

>>"Hyperspace," he identifies as he turns to face you. "It will be seven hours before we reach my flagship."

>>You give a quick nod. So much has happened in the last two days that words now escape you.

>>"So how shall we occupy our time?" he asks and from playfulness in his voice, you know exactly what he wants to do.

You force a small, half-hearted smile at him, and realize with a start that you are unhappy with this turn of events. Things had been perfect for you until roughly an hour ago. Now everything has changed.

You try to suppress your feelings, knowing that he can read your thoughts as easily as words on a page, but it is too late.

"You think I will abandon you?" he asks, and there is unmistakable surprise in his voice.

You give a slight nod.

>>"Don't be foolish," he scolds you, shaking a finger in front of your nose. When you don't reply, he reminds you, "I always keep my word, and I told you long ago I would always look after you."

>>He turns and looks ahead, out the viewport at the kaleidoscope of brilliant colours.

>>The silence stretches, becomes uncomfortable, but still you say nothing. You don't know what he wants to hear from you.

>>"I love you and could never leave you behind," he quietly admits.

You consider this for a moment. You believe him. Part of you already knew this, knew that an emotion as strong as the one you feel for him could not exist without reciprocation.

He extends his hand to you and you stand, move to take it. He draws you close, settling you onto his lap. You rest your head against his chest and feel a gloved hand stroke your hair lightly.

You take a deep breath and finally ask the question. "Did you plan this? To take me with you today?"

>>There is a soft sigh from him, but he doesn't answer immediately. He just continues to run his fingers through your hair. Somehow you know he is weighing what to tell you, deciding the exact words to use. You wait patiently for him to settle his mind.

>>"I suspected I was being followed when I left the Corellian Governor's residence," he finally divulges, "so as a precaution I brought my shuttle. My instincts unfortunately proved correct. They were following me, and I led them straight to you as a result.'

>>They? You wonder to yourself. Who are these people?

>>"Rebel assassins," he answers your thought, continuing after a pause. "I could not risk them finding you again after I left, so yes, I did anticipate taking you with me, but I did not plan today's events."

"You could have fought them off," you state quietly. "If you had been alone, you could have destroyed them all."

"Yes."

"I put you in danger," you fight back tears at the realization. You do not like this new insight you seem to have gained.

"No," he tells you firmly, and he reaches down to squeeze the soft flesh of your bottom as reinforcement. "I put *you* in danger. I should have trusted my instincts when I sensed that I was being followed."

"Why didn't you?"

"Because I wanted to see you. I made you a promise."

"How will you explain my presence to your men?"

He sighs. "That," he says grimly, "may get complicated."

>>He sees your distress at the situation and brings a hand to your face in an attempt to comfort you.

>>"But that is my concern," he soothes, "not yours, and there are several possible ways I can deal with this ... problem."

>>You wonder what he means by that, but his hands are on your back now, tracing trails from the top of your head, through your hair, down your spine to your waist. Tucking your head under his chin, you settle yourself against his chest and simply enjoy his touch.

>>He always has had a wonderful sense of what you need, when you need it.

His touch becomes bolder, stronger; you know what he needs, as well. Raising your head, you smile at him.

"My Lord, you'll thoroughly wear me out at this rate!"

"It's been... at least four hours," he replies.

"Well, in that case..." you say, raising a finger to trace the curves of his mask, "...perhaps you should show me the comforts of this vessel of yours."

>>You take his hand when he offers it and let him lead you into the passenger compartment. There are acceleration seats here and no obvious place for a bed is in sight.

>>"Where's the bed?" you ask, curious.

>>"I don't usually have a need for one," he admits. "We'll improvise, instead."

>>He releases your hand and proceeds to remove a number of the seats from where they are anchored, moving them to the other side of his ship. Then he goes to the back of the shuttle and opens a large compartment. Various pieces of what you assume are survival gear are tossed out, carelessly discarded on the floor, while he searches for whatever it is he wants.

>>There is a loud cry of triumph when he finds it.

>>"Life raft," he announces as he throws a large block of synthetic material on the floor. The `this side up' signs are pointing down, you note.

>>A loud hiss follows as he activates the inflation mechanism.

>>This should be interesting, you decide, as the raft, upside down, fills the area he cleared of seats earlier.

You try your best to suppress a giggle.

"Something funny, my lady?" he asks with mock sternness.

"No," you respond, clearing your throat. "No, of course not."

You dutifully sit on the edge of the now inflated raft, and promptly slide off the side and onto the floor. This time it is the Sith Lord who smothers a laugh.

>>He reaches down and offers you a hand. You accept it, then find yourself being grabbed by the waist and tossed right into the center of the raft. For a moment you bounce up and down as the taut material reacts to your weight.

>>This produces more giggles from you and laughter, which he doesn't try to suppress this time, from him.

>>You lie on the raft, lounging, while you watch him drop his cloak on the floor and remove a few other impediments.

>>Then he drops his considerable bulk beside you on the raft, sending you up into the air again before falling back down and launching the Sith Lord beside you airborne in turn.

By the time the raft has settled, you are breathless and laughing silently, tears streaming down your face as you attempt to regain control. You glance over at the Sith Lord and see that his shoulders are shaking with laughter as well.

"In case of emergency," you manage to gasp, "beware gravity!"

Then you dissolve into giggles again.

Your lover reaches out for you and pulls your body close to his as you laugh.

"I'm glad you find this so amusing, my Lady," he says lightly.

>>"Oh," you say as he takes one hand and slowly slides it up your leg, under your dress, rumpling the fabric as he goes.

>>You just know that bratty smirk of his is hiding behind the mask again.

>>"Oh," you repeat when his fingers softly stroke the inside of your thigh.

>>He moves them closer, teasing you, before ghosting his touch down to your knee again.

>>"Tease!" you accuse with a laugh while your own hand starts to explore his body in return.

You draw in your breath sharply and decide to dispense with all games. Reaching down you wrap your hand around him and squeeze. You hear him draw in his breath sharply, overriding his regulated breathing momentarily.

"Sneaky little lady," he gasps and reciprocates the gesture, sliding one finger into you without preamble.

"Ooooh," you moan, helplessly. "No fair..."

>>You firmly stroke your hand against him: he reacts by thrusting his finger in and out. Every time you move your hand, he responds with his finger in turn.

>>It's a case of mutual torture, you decide, as you start to moan in time with his actions and he gasps with yours.

>>You don't know how much more of this you can take, but your body finally betrays you and your muscles start to pulse around him. The Sith Lord, of course, keeps control of himself as you let go of him. He simply chuckles at your cries of pleasure while you writhe on the raft next to him.

>>"Enjoying yourself?" he teases.

>>You nod and silently vow that it will be him doing the squirming, instead of you, in the immediate future.

Reaching downwards you take hold of him once more, and place your free hand against the side of his mask.

"Come here, Sith Lord," you say in a husky voice.

"As you wish, my lady," he replies and draws you closer, pulling your body beneath his.

>>You keep your hand in place, refusing to let go, and continuing your firm strokes, when he obviously would rather have your fingers engaged in work elsewhere.

>>"Stubborn," he teases, shifting a bit so your hand is now pinned between your bodies.

>>One of your eyebrows lifts as you squeeze him again. There is still enough space for you to do that to him at least.

>>"You do realize that won't work on me,' he warns, amused.

>>"But I think it will, my Lord," you insist with a smile.

>>You have every intention of making him pay for all his teasing of the last two days. He laughs a little at your claim, rolls onto his back again and waits for you to make your next move.

"Close your eyes," you tell him.

"Closed," he answers promptly, placing his hands behind his head.

"Liar," you answer. "Close them, and no peeking!"

He sighs and falls silent. You wait a moment longer, peering at him carefully. In truth, you have no idea if his eyes are closed or not. Taking your hands away from him, you try your best not to disturb the raft too much with your movement, hoping that he isn't able to tell what you are up to.

You move your body lower so that you are eye level with the only exposed part of him. You hesitate a moment, then timidly draw your tongue down his length. You feel him tense, and draw in his breath sharply. You have never done this before, and he has never asked.

Encouraged, you repeat the gesture, this time with a bolder touch.

>>This time you feel him shiver a little, so you try it for a third time. His response is the same.

>>You pull back a moment and consider what to do next. You could continue with the same, but he is completely at your mercy and quite willing to let you do whatever you want to him. It's time to take advantage of that. While you think of all the possibilities, he waits patiently for you to proceed.

>>A smile slowly appears on your face. You know exactly what you will do to him now.

You place one hand flat on his stomach. Then you take the tip of him into your mouth, wrapping your lips around the velvet softness. You are rewarded with another sharp intake of breath, followed by a groan.

You grow bolder and apply suction, gently, stroking your tongue across his skin. He groans again and reaches down with one hand, lacing his fingers through yours tightly.

>>His hand squeezes yours in reassurance, encouraging you to go on.

>>You try a different tactic and slide your way farther down, taking more of him into your mouth. His other hand brushes the top of your head, then rests lightly on top of it.

>>When you can go no farther without gagging, you begin to slide him in and out of your mouth. He caresses your hair in time to your movements up and down his shaft.

Once you have established a steady rhythm, you begin to swirl your tongue from side to side across the bottom of him. You suck gently as you withdraw, and relieve the pressure when you return. You hear your lover moan loudly and his grip on both your hand and your hair tighten.

You continue your ministrations for several moments more. When you feel his body stiffen, you know he is close. Then, he surprises you.

"Stop!" he gasps desperately. "Stop!"

You pull away, and look up at him with concern. "You don't like it?" you ask, hurt.

He manages a chuckle. "It isn't that, precious. I want to be inside you when I..." he trails off.

>> Oh, you think to yourself. That's why he hasn't asked you to do this before.

>>He gives your hand another squeeze as you debate what to do. Then, with a nod, you reach up with your free hand and begin to open the front of your dress.

>> Whatever he wants from you is his. All he has to do is say so.

>>The blue fabric slides down from your shoulders and pools around your waist, exposing you from your neck to your hips. Vader lifts his hand, gently brushes your face, trails his fingers down your throat, eventually stopping to rest atop yours.

>>He doesn't say a word.

>>He doesn't need to.

He pulls you forward gently and you spread yourself over him slowly. He runs his hands over your bare skin, down your back and over your rear and you shiver at the sensation. The merest touch from him has always brought you pleasure. Then one hand reaches beneath you and he deftly guides himself to you, into you.

You raise your head to look at him, gazing into the black expanse of his mask where you know his eyes to be (those liquid blue eyes, you think, with another shiver).

"I lo-" you whisper. The words catch in your throat; you are not used to saying what you have felt for so long. "I love you," you try again.

>>"I love you, Anakin," you repeat it once more, much steadier this time.

>>When you say his old name, he touches your cheek with a gloved fingertip.

>>"I know," he softly tells you, "and I have always loved you in return."

>>You shut your eyes in relief. He wasn't angry at your revelation earlier and he told you before he feels the same, but hearing it from him again is reassuring.

>>You feel his hands settle at your waist - warm, strong hands - hands made of flesh?

>>When you open your eyes to look, it is your Anakin, bright blue eyes full of laughter who is beneath you on the raft, not the armoured Sith Lord.

>>"Oh!" you exclaim in surprise.

>>"Ready for me, my lady?" he teases, suggestively bucking his hips up against you.

"Always, my lord," you smile coyly at him.

"I'm Anakin," he says gently.

"You are," you answer. "And you are also my lord, in any form."

His movements are slow and controlled as he makes love to you. You stroke his cheek gently, then the hard, smooth muscles of his arms, and the groves of his chest. He kisses you softly, running his tongue over first your bottom lip, then your upper one. You shiver at the sensation.

>>When he knows you are ready, that you've had enough, he carefully rolls you both over so he is now the one in control. As he increases his pace that faint fraction, your body reacts to his.

>>Your back arches as you try to press yourself up against him, as he attempts to bury all of himself in you. His moans and yours blend together in perfect harmony.

>>And then there is just his skin against yours as you both lie on the raft completely spent and thoroughly sated.

>>You shut your eyes and curl up to him, assuming *your spot* in his arms. It will be hours before the shuttle arrives at his flagship and you want to rest for a while. He holds you close and you feel the soft mothsilk lining of his cloak against your skin as he tugs it over you both.

>>"Sleep for a while, love," he suggests.

>>So you do.

Your dreams are peaceful, at first. You are walking through a lush garden, filled with brightly-colored flowers and the soft music of several kipa-kipa perched high in the branches of towering trees which line a small, neat path. He is there, your Anakin.

He reaches out, traces the line of your jaw with one finger, flesh on flesh. His other hand circles your waist and pulls you close, as he lowers his mouth onto yours.

Then everything crumbles.

The trees melt away before you, dripping into blackness, creating a void that draws closer, pulling everything through it. The birdsongs disappear. Then the flowers are stretched, pulled, whisked away.

You wake up screaming.

>>But he is here - your Anakin is here with his strong arms around you, holding you, telling you it was only a dream in an attempt to soothe you. You cling to him, shaking with fright, until you finally realize where you are and who you are with.

>>"Nightmare?" he quietly asks once you have stopped trembling.

>>You nod your head against his chest.

>>"It's only to be expected," he suggests. "You've had your life turned upside down today."

>>"Yes," you whisper to him.

>>Nothing in your life will ever be the same again.

>>He tips your head up and kisses you. It's a light, gentle kiss which promises more, but he pulls away when a loud chiming fills the shuttle's cabin.

>>"Hyperspace reversion in ten minutes," he wryly notes. "We will be docking with my flagship soon."

You tense in his arms, and feel your fears and apprehensions rush back.

"I have nothing to wear," you tell him, stupidly. "That dress, it isn't mine."

"I'll buy you a hundred dresses, love," he tells you gently, brushing a hand through your hair.

You draw in a breath shakily, fighting tears.

"Shhh," he soothes you. "You're with me. Nothing will hurt you."

>>You feel yourself start to relax a little. He's using his Force abilities to calm you. In the past, you've let him do this, but right now your worries are too important to you to let them slide that easily.

>>"What am I going to do?" you blurt out. "I can't just live in your quarters on a battleship."

>>"You will make me happy," he firmly answers, amused, "and of course you can live with me."

>>He's trying to make light of your concerns.

>>"Now go put on your dress," he orders, giving you a slap on the rear to encourage you to move.

>>You giggle a little and do as you are told while he deflates the raft and drags it to one side of the cabin. He's dropped the Anakin illusion again, you note, disappointed.

>>The Sith Lord catches your hand and pulls you into the cockpit to strap in. He isn't at all worried about what will happen to you. But you doubt things will be as easy to arrange as he expects.

Giving your hand a final, reassuring squeeze, he returns to his own seat just as the ship drops from hyperspace. Stars spring into focus and beyond that, a massive, ominous structure.

"My flagship," he confirms.

"All of it?" you ask.

He laughs, "Last time I checked, yes."

>>You stare at the huge triangular ship through the viewports. It is rapidly filling them as you approach it. He sends the shuttle underneath it, skimming its belly.

>>You bite your lower lip and look over at your lover. Soon you will be inside and then you have no idea what will become of you.

>>"Lord Vader," you hear someone over the comm system.

>>"Yes, Admiral," the Sith Lord replies. "I will meet with you shortly."

>>His inflections have changed, you note as he shuts off the comm. His voice is colder than you have ever heard it. Colder, emotionless, almost frightening. You do your best not to shiver. This is not what you are accustomed to hearing from him.

>>"That's my `commander's voice', my public voice," he tells you in a much softer tone. "I have never used it when I'm with you."

Then you feel the shuttle lifting upwards, into the flagship's hangar bay. You look down at your hands, apprehension triumphing over curiosity.

"Shall I wait here? For everyone to leave?" you ask anxiously.

"Leave? I'm afraid the only time I am ever without an entourage has been when I've visited you," again you feel him using the Force to calm your frantic nerves. "No, you will come with me."

"What will you tell them about me?" you ask.

"Nothing," he answers. "And no one will be foolish enough to ask, at least not right away."

>>He releases your acceleration straps and helps you to your feet. You stand there feeling rather shaky until he sets your hand on his arm above his elbow. With his free hand he runs a finger down your cheek.

>>"Pretend you're a grand Lady entering a party," he suggests. "You don't need to say anything, just walk at my side."

>>You bite your lip nervously and nod. You will do this for him. Despite your uncertainty, you will always do anything he asks of you.

>>He guides you the top of the shuttle's ramp and then down it once it has lowered to the hangar floor.

You steady your gaze and try your best to look anything but terrified as you take the first steps off of the shuttle's ramp and onto the solid durasteel floor of the hangar. Suddenly you are envious of the Sith Lord's mask, wishing you had a similar way to hide your face.

The hangar is filled with soldiers. Two rows of stormtroopers flank either side of you in parallel lines, at attention. Several feet away from you is a stiff-looking man in an Imperial uniform - the Admiral, you presume.

"Lord Vader," he bristles, casting only a brief glance in your direction.

"Admiral," the Sith Lord acknowledges with a slight nod. He's using the "commander's voice" again, you note.

>>The Admiral falls in step with the Sith Lord and several other officers trail behind. They are discussing where the fleet will head next as they walk along. The planets and systems they mention mean nothing to you. Your world has been isolated from the civil war - a safe haven of peace amid the chaos.

>>You do your best to stay calm, to school your face into a slightly disinterested expression. It seems to work. No one you meet spares you more than an initial curious glance before moving their eyes elsewhere. Or perhaps these military men are wary of staring at the woman their leader has on his arm.

>>Whatever the reason, you are grateful for their apparent lack of interest.

>>Your lover stops before a large door and curtly dismisses the Admiral and the aides who had formed his entourage. It opens at a wave of his hand and he quickly ushers you inside.

>>"My personal quarters," he tells you as the doors slide shut behind you.

You breathe an audible sigh of relief at finding yourself alone with him once more. He opens his arms and you fall against him gratefully, burying your head against his chest. He wraps his arms around your shoulders and holds you patiently.

"You did well, love," he tells you quietly, giving you the reassurance you so desperately need.

"No one even looked at me," you say, puzzled.

"I would have killed them if they had," he tells you.

You stiffen at that. You are not ignorant to the things he has done, but he has never spoken of them with you, never exposed you to that side of himself.

"I never will," he says. "I promise you that."

>>One of his arms slides to your waist, settles there as he steers you across the room. His quarters are stark, bare, nothing like the few rooms you once called home.

>>"Now, I must see to my own needs and you will rest some more in my bedroom," he decides.

>>Another door opens. This room is also spartan and dominated by a large comfortable looking bed. A fresher, you assume, is through the smaller door opposite to you.

>>"And where will you be?" you ask, puzzled.

>>"In my meditation pod," he admits, pointing back at the odd black dome in the center of the first room you were in. "I can take my mask and armour off in there and have the meal I need."

"Oh," you say quietly. Oh. It never occurred to you that he could remove his mask.

"You must be starved," he says suddenly.

You begin to shake your head, then think for a moment. You picked a few pieces of fruit earlier, but haven't eaten anything else since before he arrived on your world. Now that your nerves have calmed, you find that you are, in fact, quite hungry.

"I don't have an autochef," he says, and he almost seems embarrassed by the revelation. "Never had the need for one myself. I'll send for a protocol droid, and you can tell it what you want. Anything at all. And tomorrow I shall see about installing an autochef for you."

You nod simply. He passes a hand affectionately through your hair.

>>He steps back and give you a nudge towards his bedroom. Obviously you are to lie down until the droid arrives, but the prospect of being by yourself, alone in this strange place finally affects you.

>>You don't want to be in that bed without him.

>>And you don't want to be alone.

>>Instead of moving to the bed, you follow him, quickly covering the few steps he has put between you. As the lid of the dome-shaped chamber starts to lift, you wrap your arms around him from behind and cling to him, hang onto him for dear life, just in case he disappears inside it like your homeworld did when his shuttle went into hyperspace.

The Sith Lord chuckles and reaches up to place a reassuring hand on your arm.

"Afraid I'm going to disappear into oblivion?" he kids.

Before you can stop yourself, you burst into tears. He turns around in your arms and pulls your head to his chest, stroking your hair protectively.

"Shhh, love," he soothes. "Shhh, I am not going anywhere."

You press yourself harder against him, but don't reply. You don't trust your voice.

"Would you like to sit with me a while, then?" he asks gently.

You nod into his chest and continue to cling to him. You don't want to let him out of your sight for a second.

>>"Very well, come along then," he offers, sliding an arm around your waist and steering you to the bedroom.

>>You stay standing where you are and resist the pressure on your back.

>>"But you need to eat," you remind him.

>>He hasn't had a meal in three days and you don't want him to deprive himself any longer on your account.

>>"I could go with you," you hesitantly suggest.

There is a long pause while the Sith Lord stares straight ahead, considering your offer.

"You don't realize what you are offering, my Lady. No one... my injuries..." he trails off.

You reach for his hand and give it a squeeze. You aren't quite sure what to say to convince him that your love is unconditional. Instead, you hope that he can sense your thoughts and feelings, as he so often does.

He releases your hand and tips your chin up to look at him.

"Are you sure?" he asks.

>>"Yes, my lord," you answer. "I am sure."

>>You can sense his eyes on you, looking at you, studying your face for any reaction. It's then it occurs to you that he's afraid to show you his real self - afraid that whatever lies under his helmet might drive you away.

>>Surely his appearance is not that frightening.

>>Is it?

>>"I am heavily scarred," he admits, "and I was badly burned over most of my body. Are you really sure you want to see that?"

"I am sure," you repeat firmly.

"Very well," he says with a small sigh. Changing direction, he steers you back in the direction of the pod. "It may be a tight fit with both of us."

You cling tightly to his arm as you approach, feeling a bit childish for being so needy.

>>He steps between the chamber's teeth and you squeeze in behind him. There's a chair in the center which he settles himself in before firmly pulling you down onto his lap.

>>You look around, curiosity getting the better of you. There's a monitor and data station, a comm panel, and other controls you don't recognize. When the ceiling begins to descend, you look up and see several mechanical devices which are unfamiliar.

>>The chamber shuts, locks and seals itself.

>>You snuggle into his shoulder and wait for whatever he decides to do next.

The Sith Lord puts one arm around your waist comfortably, and reaches out with the other to reach the control panel.

"The pod has to pressurize before I can remove my helmet. I assure you, you are quite safe here, with me."

You nod against his shoulder and wait patiently. There is a sharp hiss as the air changes, becomes more potent around you. His lungs, you realize, must have been too badly damaged to breathe regular air.

>>"Breathe slowly," he advises, "and you will adjust."

>>You do as he says.

>>Breathe in. Breathe out.

>>You concentrate on each breath, carefully counting them. After several more, you have acclimatized.

>>His hand reaches for the controls again. He pauses, turns to look at you, then firmly presses one of the buttons. The mechanism in the ceiling descends, clamps onto the top of his helmet. There is a hiss as seals break, then the wide, flaring back separates from his mask and is lifted away.

>>You peer at what you can see of his head. It's pale, very pale, and has a large scar over the bald, hairless top.

>>Somehow he gets both his hands up to his mask, slides it back a little, rotates it. He hesitates again, then lifts the mask away and sets it aside on the console in front of him. The lower half of it quickly joins it.

He is far from the monstrosity you expected. Despite the deep, livid scars that cross his face and cover his scalp, he is still eerily handsome. And he has the bluest eyes you have ever seen.

"You don't have to look at me," he says quietly, and for the first time you hear his voice. It is surprisingly soft and melodic, gentle, but firm.

"It isn't that, my Lord," you answer. "It's..." you trail off and cautiously reach a hand up to touch him.

You hesitate, fingertips just grazing his skin, waiting for permission.

>>He doesn't move or say a word, just looks calmly into your eyes.

>>Your fingers brush his cheek. He shuts his eyes, trying to avoid seeing what your face might reveal. His skin is soft but firm - its texture an effect of many years without exposure to a sun's rays. Your other hand touches his scalp. A short stubble prickles your fingertips. He has some hair but must remove it.

>>You love every inch of his warrior's face. His scars have been earned in battle. They are medals to be worn with honor and pride, you think, and nothing he should be ashamed of.

>>You shift your weight a little, move closer, and lightly, gently set your lips against his.

There is another moment of hesitation, then you feel his body relax slightly. He arms circle around you lightly, and he returns your kiss. Then he pulls away, looks at you again, curiously.

"I told you, I'm - "

"Very handsome," you interrupt. "The most handsome man in the galaxy."

He begins to speak again, but you press your lips to his once more. This time, he doesn't pull away.

>>Instead he opens his mouth a little.

>>It is your turn to hesitate.

>>You have never kissed a man before, and not your lover, not like this. His illusion, your Anakin, has not really prepared you for it. He lightly nibbles your lower lip, brushes his tongue across your upper. You let a low moan escape and start to melt at his expert touch.

>>He takes your now open mouth as an invitation and slips his tongue inside. You feel a gloved hand start to creep along your skin, fingers ghosting up the inside of your legs. In response you open them a little.

>>Then his tongue is sliding in and out of your mouth in the same rhythm his fingers are using between your thighs.

Your fingers launch an exploration of their own, tracing the contours of his face, his jawbone, his cheeks. His tongue entwines with yours once more, then withdraws, waits. You realize he is inviting you to explore his mouth as he has yours.

Tentatively, you reach out, trace the delicate curve of his upper lip, then his lower one.

>>You pause, then slip your tongue inside as he did with you. His mouth opens wider, drawing you in, asking for you to do whatever you want to him. He has all his teeth, you quickly discover, as his own moan prompts you to pull back.

>>"I haven't kissed anyone in so many, many years," he whispers as he pulls you close and sets his mouth on yours again.

>>It's like he can't get enough of your kisses, you decide a few minutes later. He's only let you pull away a few times to catch your breath. You lean back a little as he reaches for you again, teasing him.

>>You want more than just his kisses.

"Getting shy, are we?" he teases.

"No," you say, leaning in for another brief kiss before pulling away again. "I want to see what other parts of your armor come off."

"Perhaps none," he replies.

"I can live with that," you answer, slipping one hand down his chest to tap his codpiece lightly. "But I know for a fact, this is removable, my Lord."

>>He lets out a laugh at your audacity, then pulls you close again. His mouth quickly finds yours.

>>"Off my lap with you, then," he says after finishing another quick kiss.

>>You comply, settling your rear on the console in front of him since there is no other obvious place to sit.

>>He starts to pull off one of his gloves, then stops and looks at you.

>>"We could stay in here," he suggests, "or move to more comfortable quarters, if you prefer."

"Here," you decide. This place is as much a safe-haven for you as it is for him. Here, it is just you and your Anakin, and you can forget where you are, what has happened. You don't have to face the sudden changes to your way of life.

"Here then," he confirms, and reaches for you to kiss you again. You hold back, and smile.

"I believe you were about to remove something?" you prompt.

>>He slowly pulls off one glove, then the other, dropping them next to you on the console. Both his hands are metal, you note. A shiver escapes from you before you can stop it.

>>"From old injuries," he reassures you, lightly brushing your cheek with one finger.

>>You nod and wait.

>>His cloak is unhooked, his chest and shoulder armour lifted away. He takes the codpiece off next, then his belt, first setting his lightsaber aside. The surcoat slides off his shoulders as he pushes it out of the way. Somehow he works the shinguards and boots off his feet despite you being right in his way.

>>Now there is just his leather body armour remaining between you and him.

>>He opens the tunic portion of it with a firm touch and swiftly removes it.

You reach out with one finger and trace it along his chest, then across the metal tendons of one artificial arm. You then run your finger over his metal ones, incredulously. All this time, you think to yourself, and you never knew.

"Did it hurt?" you ask quietly.

"I should say so," he replies smoothly. "But it does not pain me any longer. Few things do when you are with me."

>>Your eyes catalogue the scars on his chest. There are so many of them. Curious, you reach out to touch his life support panel, then yank your hand back.

>>"You can't accidentally change the settings on it," he notes, amused. "There's a special sequence I use for that."

>>His hands move to his waist. It won't be easy for him to finish undressing. You shift out of his way as best you can, turning slightly as you start to take your dress off once again. The sound of his last piece of clothing joining the rest soon reaches your ears

>>Then his hands are firm against your body as he turns you around.

"Now," he murmurs against your shoulder, "where were we?"

You shiver at the sensation as he runs his hands down your sides lightly - cold metal against your flushed skin. He lightly kisses your neck and you lean back against him, dropping your head back to rest upon his chest. You open your eyes and gaze into his for a moment.

"I love you, Anakin," you whisper.

"And I love you," he answers, kissing you again.

>>And then his mouth and hands are everywhere above your waist. Touching, caressing, feeling every inch of you. He smiles when he looks up from kissing your breasts.

>>"I should have done this with you long ago," he confesses.

>>Then his lips are on your neck again while his hands wander lower. He holds them on your stomach a moment, teasing you, before he moves them further down.

His hands tease the sensitive folds between your legs, then you feel one finger slide inside of you and you moan softly. His mouth returns to your skin and you let your eyes close, falling into the sensation.

"Should I stop?" he teases, as his runs his tongue along the ridge of your collar bone.

"Don't you dare," you gasp, clinging to him.

>>"Perhaps a change in position?" he suggests.

>>You just moan in reply. What he's doing to you now with just his mouth and one finger has you wiggling and writhing on his lap.

>>"I guess that's a `no'," he teases you some more.

>>"No, yes, I mean no," you gasp out, not sure what to answer.

He chuckles softly and slides a second finger into you, as he continues kissing your neck lightly. You let your head fall back, one hand gripping his shoulder, the other resting lightly against the base of his skull.

"Anakin," you moan, pushing your hips against his fingers greedily.

"Yes, love?" he asks against your skin and the sensation of his breath and lips sends shivers down your spine.

"I want you," you whisper, clutching him desperately.

>>"Then you shall have me," he replies.

>>His hands stay on you as he shifts you sideways, easing you into the chair as he gets up. With a touch it has tipped backwards, letting you recline while he looks at you.

>>You watch him stare at you, then reach your hand out to him. He takes it, lets you draw him in close.

>>"Anakin," you whisper in his ear as his body presses down against yours.

He pushes into you slowly, taking his time and you savor the sensation as you feel yourself wrap around him. You stroke his cheek lightly, the other hand still curled around the back of his neck.

"You're mine," he groans against your hair. "Mine."

"Yes," you moan. "Always."

>>"Always," he repeats your words.

>>He makes love to you slowly, gently. You feel his breath and mouth against your skin. It's as if he wants to make it last forever.

>>You feel his pace pick up a little; your body responds. Twinges become longer, stronger. Your body arches up to meet his.

He slides one of his hands over your body and caresses your breast lightly, rolling one pink peak between metallic fingers. Your own hands roam his body unceasingly, tracing the hard, solid muscles of his shoulders and upper arms, the scars across his firm chest. Then you grasp his head once more, pulling his lips to yours.

His rhythm is faster now, and you sense that his control is beginning to slip as he nears release.

>>You need him, want him, every bit of him, want his skin against yours, his mouth on yours.

>>And you don't want this to end.

>>"Wait," you try begging between gasps, "not yet."

>>He tries to hold back, to give you the extra minutes you are demanding from him, but his own desires finally get the better of him.

He lets out a sharp cry and pulls your body to him, holding you tightly and he goes rigid with release. You tremble in his arms, clinging to him desperately.

Eventually, reluctantly, he begins to pull himself from you and you try to stop him with a whimper.

"Shh," he soothes. "We have forever now, remember?"

Then he kisses you softly, first on your lips, then your neck, and continues downwards. When he reaches your stomach he looks up at you and grins.

"Besides, there are still a few things we haven't tried, love," he tells you mischievously.

>>You watch him slowly move his mouth lower, wondering what he is planning all the while.

>>His hands slide down to your knees as he goes to his own between your legs

He lifts your legs up and hooks them over his shoulders. Realization dawns when he begins to kiss the insides of your thighs lightly, tracing patterns with his tongue.

"Oh," you whisper. Then, "ohhh!" when he brushes his lips against you again, running his tongue along the length of your folds. He reaches a hand up, slips one finger inside of you as his mouth finds the most sensitive part of you and sucks gently.

"Anakin," you moan helplessly. "Anakin!"

>>He varies his touch, brings you right close to the edge then backs off, teasing you with his tongue and hand.

>>You try to get him to finish when he moves to pull his mouth away, pressing yourself against his face.

>>"No," you beg him. "Anakin, please."

The breath of his laughter tickles you and you moan again, writhing against him. Finally he gives you what you want, stroking you with his fingers and his tongue. You reach down to grasp his head and he takes his free hand, lacing the fingers through yours.

You climax hard, crying out his name and bucking your hips against his face. He does not slow his pace until you the waves of pleasure begin to subside, easing you back to consciousness.

>>"I definitely should have done this with you before now," he gently teases you.

>>His fingers leave your body, trace a trail up to your face. He gives your hand he is holding a reassuring squeeze. You start to pull him close again and he doesn't resist you.

>>"There's not much room," you complain a little when he does his best to shift you over in the chair and settle you against his chest, next to him, secure in his arms.

"Would you prefer to go back to my bedroom?" he asks.

"No," you answer, snuggling against his warm skin and closing your eyes. You fight to stay awake childishly. "Warm..." you mutter sleepily.

"What is?" the Sith Lord asks you softly.

"You..."

>>You nuzzle his chest and smell the sweat from your lovemaking on it. It's much better having his real skin next to yours than you ever thought it might be. He's warm, too, much warmer than you could ever feel through his armour.

>>"You..." you whisper again.

>>"Me?"

>>"Yes, love," you answer, "you."

>>He kisses the top of your head as you snuggle in closer. Your eyes drift shut.

>>You will always be safe with him, you realize. He will forever be yours and you his.

END

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