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Reeling

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Padmé sat back in the window seat, contemplating the watercolor landscape on the easel before her.

The greens and deep blues certainly reflected Naboo’s mild climate, the artwrk having momentarily calmed her nerves from the recent ruckus with the Jedi and Bardotta, the Trade Federation...everything, really. And yet, the lack of life depicted on the canvas wasn’t lost on her.

After all, what were the swamps and, indeed, the sloping grasslands - without its native inhabitants?

Thoughts drawn back to Jar Jar following their earlier encounter, Padmé ruefully acknowledged her tendency to avoid intimacy at all costs. Over a year of work and personal relations, and she hadn’t even asked the Gungan much about his family. Beyond him letting on once that his people were raised more by society at large than family, as such. Still, she barely knew the details of the events resulting in his banishment.

Oh well, perhaps it was for the best. Too much involvement could lead to attachment, which could only end dismally for both. So she truly had no right to jealousy - and yet, there it was. That need for control that Anakin so often complained of Obi-Wan cautioning him over. Seemed Senator Amidala was little better.

Jar Jar’s body was on fire.

Ever since Julia had bid him farewell, following her own satisfaction, his mind felt satiated and more than a little buzzed – and yet, he couldn’t shake the vicious heat that streamed over every centimeter of his skin. If anything, lying naked in Julia’s company and watching her take audible pleasure in their neural bond - all the while refraining from the physical intimacy he experienced with his Naboo human partner - had him even more frustrated.

He couldn’t contact Padmé…he couldn’t. They had a professional relationship, and he knew if he risked initiating contact, the chance of ruining their delicate situation loomed just as dark as the chance of rejection.

Those dark, intense, yet warm eyes. That small frame. Those lips. The way her face shone with determination like a ripple in the sunshine, when she stated a decree to the Senate.

He had seen a stronger version of that look tonight than ever before. There had been jealousy in the senator’s eyes…

Yet why should she care? She had Anakin now…

Jar Jar had just landed back on Naboo with several other junior representatives, when his communicator buzzed, text flashing in the light of the two moons overhead.

Padmé: “Meet me at my cottage – follow the coordinates.”

Was she testing him then? Seeing if he would come when she called, even following his different manner of intimacy with the Queen of Bardotta?

Well, as much as he admired Julia and fondly anticipated a future meeting between them, it seemed his race was still too primitive to subsist on mental connection alone.

The moment he went to knock at the door, it opened. No buzzer, just Padmé, as though she had been expecting him.

“Yesa, Senatah Padmé?” he asked, making an attempt at formality.

There was that look in her eyes again, smoldering black that reflected the moon, the silver light shining off the dark curls framing her face.

“Welcome back,” she stated, before reaching up, grasping him by the collar of his burgundy senatorial robe and pulling him inside.

“Misa always come back,” Jar Jar replied before letting her lead him down the hall to the small bedroom.

“To Naboo?” Padmé probed, already pulling off her blue silk nightgown.

“To yousa service in da Senate.” Jar Jar said simply, shrugging out of his own robe. “Yousa da first to believe in misa.”

Padmé seemed to halt then, if only momentarily. The moment was fleeting, however, gaze soon returned to stone as she shoved him onto the bed.

“Maybe if you spent more time passing motion to avoid war and less on courting queens, we wouldn’t have so many off-world obligations,” Padmé hissed, climbing atop him.

Jar Jar tensed. They hadn’t yet discussed Padmé’s disapproval of his granting Chancellor Palpatine emergency powers.

“Perhaps it was my own short sight,” Padmé was panting now, laying her cheek against Jar Jar’s abdomen as she stroked her fingertips over his opening. “I shouldn’t have entrusted another with my responsibility.”

“Da council people all discussen at da Senate. Misa opinion also immmm—“ Jar Jar’s sentence trailed off, as two soft fingers entered him.

How had she known this was again the time for eggs?

“Stop talking,” she demanded in that voice that managed to be soft, husky and firm all at once.

Hips bucking in a fashion that had the Gungan relieved it was likely too dark for a Naboo to see well, Jar Jar was quickly losing the ability for rational thought. Acting on instinct, he grabbed Padmé by her now bare thighs and placed her so she straddled his waist.

Though both nearly whimpered at the loss of her inside him, Padmé moaned audibly as her opening lined up with his, promptly tucking her calf beneath his thigh.

Now entangled together in a proper heap, Naboo human and Gungan began gyrating shamelessly in the pale moonlight streaming through the open window.

With the fraction of consciousness he had that wasn’t lost to blinding pleasure, Jar Jar tenderly swiped his tongue across her breasts, recalling that the nipples at the tips always seemed to harden at times like this.

That was when Padmé gasped, digging her fingers even harder into his chest, and began riding him full force, a maneuver which activated that same sensation he had experienced several times, the first being their initial encounter on the river.

His body exploding in ecstatic muscle spasms, Jar Jar gripped the senator by her shoulders as his insides screamed to keep a part of her for himself. Within mere moments, his entrance expanded to engulf her entire sex.

“What…what is that?” Padmé stammered, though her hips hadn’t ceased their motion. “The feeling…it’s, it’s tingling…ahh.”

Palming over her lower belly, Padmé’s pants and sighs soon crescendoed into a powerful climax, as Gungan milked human in an unprecedented interspecies interaction.

Assuming she had been referring to his opening stimulating that nub of hers usually reserved for his tongue, Jar Jar collapsed on his back. Just before falling asleep, he registered Senator Padmé moving up to gently curl at his side.

He fell asleep to the feel of her soft locks threading through his fingers.

 

The following dawn light woke Jar Jar in time to dutifully leave the senator’s cottage before she could wake up and likely tell him off herself. May as well get back to the swamp of his own accord.

Once at the water, he spent what must have been several hours floating along the river, watching the sunrise. How peaceful this place was. No Naboo, and not even any fellow Gungans to scold him for doing something wrong. Just serenity…

Jar Jar’s languid reverie shattered to a sharp pain in his abdomen. Sitting straight up on the water’s surface, he soon doubled over at the ensuing contractions in his pelvic region.

It felt as if his body were trying to expel something. Not waste surely, this felt different - from deeper within.

Splashing some water on his face to try and distract himself from the wriggling and occasionally shooting pain, Jar Jar gasped as he felt something escape from between his legs.

The pain all but subsided, the Gungan sidled his way over to the shore and returned the short distance back to where he had left his senatorial robe on the riverbank by the foot of one of the hills up to the grasslands.

Gingerly sitting atop the robe, Jar Jar looked around to make sure no one was in sight before removing his slacks. Once off, he held his breath as he felt around inside the fabric, carefully retrieving what had fallen out inside the pants.

There in his palm, barely the size of his fingertip, lay a roughly spherical, dark red spongy substance with black streaks running through it.

Jar Jar’s yellow gaze fixed the little object, simultaneously mesmerized, stricken and horrified.

His body’s attempted use and rejection of Padmé’s egg. Of course. How could she ever feel for Jar Jar the way she surely felt for Anakin? Or any of her own species?

As a Gungan, he would only fail her desire for children.

 

The begetting of that lost egg and its release to the riverbed had proven the first source of grief for Jar Jar that day. The second came when he ventured to tell Padmé what had transpired.

“Jar Jar,” she had looked him dead in the eye, as they spoke at her cottage entryway later that afternoon. “What do you mean an egg? You don’t lay eggs, the female Gungans do, right?”

“No, Senatah,” Jar Jar insisted, “Females given us their eggs to lay later.”

Comprehension dawned in Padmé’s eyes, as her face blanched. “You took an egg from me. That’s the pulling sensation I felt…”

“Misa didn’t mean to,” Jar Jar felt like screaming, “Please, Senatah Padmé.”

Padmé visibly bit her lower lip to the point where it looked like it could have drawn blood.

“I’m sorry, Jar Jar. But can you please head home? I just need to be alone.”

Jar Jar stepped forward then to touch her cheek, and she shoved away his hand.

“Please, Jar Jar. I respect you, I really do. But this has gone too far. We can’t do this anymore.”

With that, she stepped back inside and hastily shut the door, leaving the Gungan to head back to the swamp.