Title: Late Night Feeding
Series: post ROTS
Author helgaleena email@example.com
Category Slash POV AU
Spoilers: possible explanation of Leia's memories of mother
Warnings: in this AU, Ani has not turned, and Padme is dead
Disclaimer: Lucas is the god of Star Wars and owns everything. I am nothing.
Summary: Obi-wan and Anakin try to make up for Padme's loss to the twins
Authors Notes-- contains my theory of Obi-Ani-Padme-Qui. Relies heavily on my fic Dreams Come True, but stands alone.
It's the middle of the night. But when Anakin smiles, the sun is out. I cannot believe the blessing of it, sometimes. And I think that caring for our Luke and Leia has given him the greatest percentage of smiles in the entire history of the team of Kenobi and Skywalker. We are glad about this assignment. He's smiling now, through his tears.
There was no physical reason for Padme to die, and yet she did. Somehow she and Darth Sidious exited this world at nearly the same time. Mace Windu prevailed over the Sith formerly known as Palpatine, and Ani came to my rescue on Utapau, just as the twins decided to enter life, and their mother left it.
The Senate has to do without its valiant Nubian leader of the loyal opposition. The Imperial Party has to do without its Nubian would-be Emperor, as well. The Republic is, frankly, a disintegrating mess, being carved up by bickering Moffs and trade cartels. More importantly to us, these two beautiful beings have to do without their mother. They have two fathers instead, at least until they are old enough for the creche.
The Force is strong in them, these children of prophecy, so Jedi they will be. Twin Jedi are rare, and precious for their innate bond. Ani and I may even be fortunate enough to train them as padawans, or at least assist.
But at four in the morning, the past looms more heavily over us than the future. Two men wielding two formula bottles are simply not the same, for us or for them.
I have Luke this time. It's incredibly soothing to have an infant gazing up at you, absorbing comfort flesh to flesh as he drinks, imperiously informing you that this is your proper station in life, to see to him. What's more, he has his father's beautiful eyes. Luke is rewarding me for my attentions, every moment.
Like his father, he's fond of my hairy chest. Luke is being a very good baby tonight. One wetting, from which he doesn't chill because I am holding him so closely, and his little blue searchlights drift shut; his mouth gradually releases the nipple. I set him in his crib, summon the nurse droid to change him, and he sleeps through the whole business.
I cross to where Anakin is nursing Leia. Big waves of joy and loss are rolling from him, flooding our bond. We've been through this a dozen times now. If Luke has his father's eyes, Leia has her mother's. It's impossible not to think of Padme around her little girl. That's why we always take turns with the twins' feeding. We both know exactly what they are missing. If one of us attempted to feed the two of them, we'd be overwhelmed, especially my dear widower.
Because Padme had been lactating before she died. And she let us taste-- both of us. We have shared what belongs by rights to these children, but which they will never know--- essence of Padme. The Force doesn't explain such seeming injustices to beings. But it makes possible daily miracles, such as what happens next.
My beloved's face is doing that thing it did when he had his vision of the spirit of Shmi, his mother. Both cheeks are slick with falling tears, his ridiculously long lashes all spiked, yet he has on his horizon-wide grin. My heart skips a beat, then pumps extra blood into my arms, that are reaching out to him and his obviously puzzled baby daughter.
I enfold them both. "Shield, Anakin; you're confusing the baby." Indeed, she's stopped nursing, though her hunger is not abated. She sees and feels sorrow mixed with her father's love of her.
Meeting my eyes instead of Leia's, Anakin recalls his center, and his shields go up. Leia, reassured, begins to feed again.
"I can't look at her, Obi-wan. Not right now. Distract me."
For Force sake, he's the one distracting me! I'll gladly feast my eyes and hands upon the look and feel of naked Anakin in the middle of the night! I'd like to lick up those tears, to start with, then get his ear into my mouth and--- never mind, Leia comes first.
We just maintain eye contact, unless the casual lick of his lips drives me to plant a gentle kiss upon that lusciousness, now and then. I'm trying my best not to interrupt what he's doing for Leia. My stroking up and down his spine is merely meant to comfort.
Slowly but surely Leia is satisfied, and drifts into slumber. I kiss my Anakin again, reward for a job well done. Now that we have no witness, we can express ourselves more freely.
"Just let me set her down--"
"Right here is fine love; she didn't wet." And Leia is settled into a nest of bedding that smells of us.
I am on my knees before my Anakin. He breathes in deeply, held in the loose circle of my arms, and tries to explain himself, blinking away his eyes' abating wetness.
"I swear, Obi-wan, she was right behind me. Looking over my shoulder." His mouth trembles. We know of whom he speaks-- Padme, our beloved ghost.
"Yes, she does that sometimes." The hand idly stroking my chest hair is stilled.
"Force! --to you, too?"
"Oh, yes; but I wasn't her husband, you know. It doesn't affect me so deeply, love."
"Obi---" those large, delicately built hands, one real and one plast, go around my neck-- "just hold me." So I do. I pull him hard against me, down onto my bent knees, onto my lap, his hips covering mine.
And I hold. I bury my face in him. I drown in the smell of him. His sighs are evolving into rapid breathing of another kind.
Then I bury my fingers in him. His muscles pulse around them, and he moans in agreement. I stop his mouth up with kisses, drinking deep of his sweetness. He's got such a delicious tongue, and it's in me now, where I can really savor it.
Later, I bury my entire self in him. Anakin is still, one gasping intake of breath all he needs to relax around me. This is perfection, and we know it. Weeping moisture comes from him, and I rub it gently into the head of his organ, push it back flat against his own smooth belly. And then, as he trembles, I begin to move.
It doesn't take long for us to come together, my toes digging into the carpeting, Anakin's legs thrashing the air behind me until he slumps forward, smiling again, for one last lick of the saltiness of my brow. I put us back onto the bed, glued together by his fragrant semen. We need to rest.
This is the kind of miracle we could use every day. We are back with Qui-gon, our deceased master, and Padme, our deceased mother, upon the plane of dreams.
Bodily intimacy is different here. We are within one another like a set of nesting dolls, that toy familiar as a nick-nack in many cultures. This time, Qui-gon appears to be peeking out of our hearts, rather than part of the landscape. And Padme is the layer closest around us. I can taste the honey of her milk again, the perfume of her vanished flesh. It causes me to hug Anakin that much tighter to me.
As if we could be any closer and still have two heads! It really is hard to tell, this time, which limb is whose.
But someone else is here, too. I can hardly believe it-- in the midst of us all are the tiny brown eyes of Leia-- she is looking up at radiant dream-Padme.
I guess proximity to our intimacy has brought her along with us. I wonder if she'll recall this later in life, as reality or as dream. Who cares, really...Thank the Force for whatever this might be. We are one here, and a cocoon around her and Luke. The twin-bond twinkles between her and her sleeping brother like diamonds.
Reluctantly I feel Anakin stirring under me, and shift to let him rise.
"Ugh-- don't you want to rinse off?"
"No, I like the smell of you on me, love." I smile lazily as he picks up Leia and replaces her in her crib, never waking her. The empty bedclothes are easily untangled by a Force-touch, to cover myself in Anakin's absence. I hear the fresher begin to run in the next chamber.
I smell the bed-clothes; hmm, they are getting a little bit rank, actually. Perhaps clean sheets are in order, to welcome my love's clean self back to bed. I rise, wrapping the dirty ones around me.
After that, perhaps I'll join him in the fresher; I need to make sure he's smiling.
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