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Aphelion

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It had to have been very early morning when Ahsoka woke, though the sky outside the floor-to-ceiling windows showed no sign of the coming dawn. She wasn't sure why she had woken; all was still and silent. Beside her, the shadowed forms of Anakin and Padmé lay still asleep, Padmé's dark hair splayed out like a fan on the pillow beneath her head.

It had only been a few weeks since Ahsoka had first showed up at Padmé's door, but already the apartment was beginning to feel like home despite how unaccustomed she was to its grandeur. There had been a handful of occasions where Padmé had found Ahsoka packing what few possessions she had and preparing to leave and had insisted she stay on longer, and eventually Ahsoka had stopped pretending that she had any interest in returning to the tiny room she'd been previously renting down in the Undercity.

When Padmé asked if she would be interested in assisting in Luke and Leia's day-to-day care and eventual training, she had been offered a bed of her own, but it was obvious to everyone involved that the gesture was simply a formality and all three were much happier sharing. While nothing beyond sleep had taken place in their bed, Ahsoka felt more than grateful that Sabé had said nothing of the arrangement.

Ahsoka dug the heels of her palms against her closed eyes and ran her hands down her face, chasing the receding edge of sleep away. The room was both darker and quieter than any place on a planet like Coruscant had right to be, but she supposed that if government credits could buy anything, it was the illusion of solitude. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and padded barefoot to the 'fresher to relieve herself. It was on the return trip that she noticed the distinct glow emitting from under the half-folded pile of clothes she'd left at the foot of the bed.

At first, she thought maybe the hologram on her comlink had come on unexpectedly, but her bracers were resting several feet away on the bureau. Cautious, she approached the pile of clothing and toed them apart with one foot.

The holster with her new dagger still sheathed rolled out onto the floor from under one pantleg. The butt of the hilt was visible, though, and the two white stones inset in the handle were glowing, almost pulsing, like a heartbeat.

Ahsoka's mouth went dry as realization washed over her. She bent to pick it up off the floor and then shifted to sit on the edge of the bed, the knife laid out across her palms. It didn't seem possible. What were the odds of something like this?

From behind her, she both heard and sensed Anakin coming in to wakefulness. She felt the mattress shift as he rolled over to where she sat.

“Gghssoka?”

“I think these are meant to be mine,” she said, her voice thick. Anakin pulled himself up and put his hand on her shoulder when he noticed that she was blinking back tears. On the other end of the bed, Padmé was stirring, pulled awake by their voices.

Anakin peered around her shoulder at the dagger lying in her outstretched hands. “Are those..?”

“Kyber crystals,” Ahsoka whispered. She gently lay the knife on her knees and held her hands above the hilt of the weapon, her eyes falling shut. The knife slid out from the sheath with a quiet hiss of metal on leather, and Ahsoka manipulated it carefully in midair.

Padmé had moved to sit on her other side, blinking the sleep from her eyes. Between Ahsoka's palms, the hovering knife shuddered briefly, and then the two white stones popped free and rotated in the air. Ahsoka let the knife sink back to her lap, but held her hand out for the crystals, which promptly dropped in to them.

They were silvery-white in color and luminous in the dark of the room, and they felt both warm and familiar in Ahsoka's hand. She curled her fingers around them and brought her closed fist to forehead, leaning against her knuckles.

“Oh, Ahsoka,” Padmé said with fondness when she noticed the Togruta's shoulders were shaking.

“I didn't think I'd ever get the chance to construct lightsabers again. I didn't think I had the right,” Ahsoka sniffed and leaned against Padmé's side.

“You wouldn't have known them to be what they are if they weren't meant for you.” Anakin was beaming. “And you got them your way, without the help of the Jedi.”

“I got them from you,” Ahsoka corrected, her eyes shining in the dark. She opened her fist and looked down at the gemstones, still glowly dimly in her palm. “I think that's significant.”

“I think it proves that attachments aren't inherently detrimental when it comes to making connections to the Force,” said Padmé, and Anakin and Ahsoka both turned to stare at her in surprise. She rarely if ever had anything to say when it came to the subject of the Jedi's personal dogma, nor the Force at large. She shrugged somewhat apologetically. “That's just how it seems from here.”

Anakin leaned over and pressed a smiling kiss against Padmé's cheek.

Ahsoka slid off the bed and tucked the crystals safely in the pouch of her belt before returning to them. Padmé opened her arms to her and drew her back in to bed with them as Anakin said, “Tomorrow, we can go through the crates of parts I have and see what you can use to build.”

Ahsoka was swiping away unshed tears with the inside of her forearm. “Thank you.” She shook her head. “I can't thank you two enough. For everything. You didn't have to welcome me in to your home, you didn't even need to speak to me ever again..”

“This is where you belong,” Anakin said firmly. When she looked up at him, her eyes red-rimmed and unconvinced, he ducked down and kissed her, slow and sweet. She made a quiet sound against his lips and felt Padmé's hands petting down her shoulders in slow, soothing movements. Heat rose in her cheeks, and when Anakin finally pulled away she found herself blushing like the inexperienced teenager she no longer was. The knowledge that both of them wanted her there, were interested, flustered her in a way being alone with Anakin hadn't managed to.

“You don't have to be alone anymore. If this is what you want,” Padmé was saying.

“It is,” she said, perhaps a bit too quickly. She caught Padmé's smile in the dark, saw her gaze flicker appreciatively down Ahsoka's figure. Anakin was watching the exchange intently. He shifted on the bed, guiding Ahsoka with a gentle hand on her shoulder, until she was facing Padmé and he was kneeling behind her with his knees bracketing hers hips. Ahsoka's heart nearly beat out of her chest when Padmé scooted closer. She reached out and touched her cheek, drawing her fingers down and along the markings there.

“You're in charge, okay? You say the word and we stop.”

Ahsoka nodded, biting back the urge to laugh. Don't you dare stop, she thought, and felt the sentiment mirrored back along her bond with Anakin. It suddenly seemed insane that this hadn't happened sooner, after weeks of lying chastely in bed together. The three of them together, like this, now became the most obvious thing in the universe to her.

As if reading her mind, Padmé leaned in and kissed the corner of her mouth, her hand still resting delicately along Ahsoka's jaw. Quelling the thrill that surged through her, Ahsoka tilted her head and caught Padmé's lips in a proper kiss. From over her shoulder, she heard Anakin's quiet intake of breath and felt his arousal spike through the Force. He crowded against her back, his mechnohand settling on her hip. He always slept bare-chested, and she could feel the heat of him now radiating along her spine.

Padmé tilted Ahsoka's head with two fingers and began trailing kisses down her jaw and onto the surface of one lek. Ahsoka twitched inadvertently at the contact and Padmé leaned back, worried she had done something wrong. But Ahsoka was smiling somewhat drunkenly, her eyes half-lidded, and Anakin leaned in over her shoulder.

“She likes that,” he purred, running his own hand down Ahsoka's right lek in one smooth movement. He watched the chevron pattern visibly flush dark under his hand as Ahsoka let out a hissing breath followed by stuttered laughter.

“That's not fair.”

“Isn't this.. distracting? I mean, in day-to-day life,” he asked, thumbing the tip.

“No,” Ahsoka said with amusement, making sure he could hear how hard she was rolling her eyes. “It's only distracting in situations like this.”

“Can't blame me for asking.”

“Ani,” Padmé chided. Anakin chuckled darkly and flexed his hand on Ahsoka's hip. She leaned back against his chest and twisted her head, pulling his face down to hers. He obliged, dipping his mouth down against hers and pulling her tight against him, back to front.

Padmé's fingers found the hem of Ahsoka's nightshirt and slid up underneath it, skating over her ribs. Ahsoka shivered and made a soft noise against Anakin's mouth; she felt him smile in response, and nip at her lower lip before drawing back.

“Scoot,” said Padmé to Anakin, and he did, rolling to the side to give them room. Ahsoka raised her brows: Padmé looked positively impish as she guided Ahsoka back against the mattress. The Chancellor's satiny nightgown skimmed along Ahsoka's exposed stomach where her shirt was hiked up as she leaned over her body.

Ahsoka was sure the fluttering beat of her heart was loud enough to be heard by both of them. Her hands were hesitant when they came up to rest at Padmé's slim waist, but the way Padmé beamed at her when she did was reassuring. The Chancellor kissed her again, this time more deeply, and Ahsoka marveled at the distinct difference in Anakin and Padmé's technique. Where Anakin was firm and insistent, Padmé was patient, soft, and utterly thorough. Ahsoka came away from the kiss breathless and hot.

“Still okay?” Anakin asked from the sidelines. Ahsoka turned her head to look at him. He was kneeling off to one side, his hands braced on his knees and his eyes bright and alert in the dark. His signature in the Force was practically vibrating.

“Yeah. Yes. Definitely.”

Affection flared along their bond, and she wasn't sure from whom it had originated. It didn't really matter.

Finding courage, Ahsoka took initiative and hooked her fingers in to the shimmery cloth of Padmé's nightgown, gently tugging until it was gathered in folds around her waist. Padmé had been laying soft kissing along her throat but she sat back and flashed her a smile before pulling the whole thing over her head and dropping it over the side of the bed.

Ahsoka swallowed.

Padmé sat astride her hips in only her underclothes, her dark hair framing the pale, slender shape of her bared torso. She was pulling at Ahsoka's nightshirt now, and Ahsoka was quick to assist, squirming out of it and pulling it over her montrals.

Padmé looked pleased. Ahsoka glanced at Anakin and noted he looked more than pleased. Unbidden, a shiver ran through her.

And then Padmé was back, kissing her with new fervor, and any reservations Ahsoka might have had left her. She arched up against Padmé, skin to skin, and clutched at her back. The quiet growl Padmé gave sent a thrill lancing through her.

Padmé reached down and cupped her through her shorts, and Ahsoka's head dropped back against the pillow. She heard Anakin hiss, realized he was close to them again, and when she opened her eyes she saw him looming behind Padmé, brushing her hair to the side and lowering his mouth to the nape of her neck. She saw Padmé's reaction, saw the familiar way they moved against one another, and felt a rush of gratitude that she'd been allowed in to this private setting.

It was Anakin's hand, his human one, that slid confidently down Ahsoka's side from ribs to thigh, pulling her shorts down with it. Padmé moved enough to give him room to pull them completely down and off and then returned to her spot above Ahsoka, peppering her with kisses while one hand returned to the juncture between her coppery legs.

Ahsoka was vaguely aware she was making desperate noises, breathing hard against Padmé's mouth.

“You're very lovely,” Padmé murmured. Her fingers were massaging small, practiced circles against Ahsoka's skin.

Padmé,” Ahsoka breathed, dizzied by the sensation. Padmé smiled in response and moved her hand lower until one and then two fingers had slid smoothly inside.

Ahsoka's hands fell back against the bedcovers and dug in. Her hips rocked forward involuntarily.

Her voice caught in her throat when Padmé curled her fingers and made a beckoning motion inside her. She did it again, and dipped her head to swallow the groan it elicited from the Togruta. Ahsoka reached up to grasp at the back of Padmé's neck, her fingers weaving in to the soft hair there.

Anakin watched, rapt, his lips parted and his breath coming heavy.

The cloud-soft sheets, now properly mussed beneath them, clung to Ahsoka's damp skin as she flexed full-bodied against the bed.

Force, Ahsoka,” Anakin said in a low, strained voice. Padmé looked over her shoulder at him and hummed contentedly when he ground his hips against hers from behind, his sleep pants doing little to hide his excitement. Ahsoka whined when Padmé withdrew her hand from between her legs, her fingers trailing slick across the inside of one rust-colored thigh. She twisted to face her husband.

Anakin's hands came up to frame Padmé's face as he kissed her eagerly. All these years, and he still seemed like he couldn't quite believe his good luck when it came to the woman who loved him. Ahsoka lay beside them, quietly catching her breath and watching the two of them.

“Off,” Padmé smiled against Anakin's lips, tugging at the waist of his pants.

“Your highness,” he quipped, and she gave him a predatory look as he shucked his sleep clothes. Ahsoka raised herself on to her elbows as the rest of Anakin's lithe body came in to view. Padmé's small hand encircled his growing erection and stroked and Ahsoka's stomach tightened as she felt his pleasure flare in the Force. She rolled up on to her knees to be closer to them, her eyes darting between the two of them, asking permission. Padmé reached out to take her hand and squeezed it, and as Anakin and Ahsoka watched, she raised it to her mouth and licked a slow stripe from the base of her palm to the tip of her middle finger.

Both Ahsoka and her former Master shuddered.

Padmé guided her hand down to Anakin's cock and closed it around the base, leaning in to nuzzle at Ahsoka's shoulder. “Go on.”

Anakin made a breathless sound and the two women exchanged a look. When Ahsoka's hand began to move, Padmé removed her own and swept it up Ahsoka's abdomen and over her breasts, leaning her own body against her.

Anakin was looking at her with heavy lidded eyes, his lips slightly parted and his expression one of bared adoration. She felt the tug along their bond and tilted her head to kiss him, her hand still working between them. The hard durasteel of his mechno-arm slipped around her waist and pulled her in close so that she was straddling one of his thighs, the heat of her pressed flush to his skin. Ahsoka ground down on his leg and the dual sensation of her slick heat on his skin and her hand on his cock had him groaning against her mouth.

He lowered himself back against the bed with his free hand, drawing her down with him, and Ahsoka took the opportunity to re-position farther down his body to lay open-mouthed kisses along his sternum. When the sharp point of one canine scraped down his front she heard him grunt and the muscles of his abdomen tightened and flexed.

She looked up. “Sorry. I'll try to be careful.”

“Don't be too careful,” he chuckled, and so she nipped him gently on the hip before nuzzling him.

When her breath first ghosted over his straining erection, still fisted in her hand, Ahsoka could feel his anticipation flutter in the Force. She caught his gaze and held it as she drew him in to her mouth, felt him strain against the urge to lift his hips up off the mattress.

Before long he was stifling his gasps, his pleasure surging along their bond and reverberating back in a closed circuit that had Ahsoka giving small moans around him. His human hand slid, fingers spread, into the concave curve between her montrals. Not tugging, just resting, his thumb sweeping over one horn.

She pulled off and sat back when she felt him near his brink and watched him catch his breath, dazed and flushed. Padmé had been watching from just out of reach, her eyes hungry. She reached out to Ahsoka, and Ahsoka pivoted to meet her, bracing herself over Padmé's body.

“How you doing, love?” Padmé asked, stroking down the side of Ahsoka's broken montral. Ahsoka hooked her thumbs into Padmé's underclothes and tugged them down in answer. She bent and sucked a mark into the skin at Padmé's collarbone, and sensed Anakin behind her, pulling Padmé's clothes the rest of the way down her legs.

Ahsoka worked a thigh up between Padmé's and leaned, and simultaneously felt Anakin slip a hand between her own legs from behind. His prosthetic hand smoothed over her lower back, spanning the taut muscles there. Padmé sighed at the contact and rolled her hips, grinding against Ahsoka's thigh. She stroked one of Ahsoka's lekku from stem to tip and Ahsoka heard herself growl as she rocked between Padmé's leg and Anakin's hand.

She felt almost frenzied, her body buzzing with desire. Padmé was laid out beneath her, all softness and curves, and the coiled heat of Anakin's body was pressed up against her from behind. When Anakin pressed the head of his cock against her and curled over her back to mouth at her shoulder blades, Ahsoka keened and dropped to one elbow under his weight, her body pressed to Padmé's. Padme gave a light laugh and pet her head.

“Anakin,” she whimpered after a moment when he didn't move to enter her. He hummed near her neck and guided himself in, driving forward until his hips were flat against Ahsoka's flesh.

All three stopped momentarily to adjust, breathing hard in the darkened room. Outside the window, the first tinges of dawn painted the horizon a delicate pink. It was the quietest time in a Coruscant rotation, the skyways the least busy they'd be all day. Overhead, a frigate passed by, and the building vibrated very slightly.

Ahsoka rocked against them both, her face buried in Padmé's neck. The soft, sweet-smelling waves of her hair tickled her cheeks. Hair was still somewhat of a novelty to her, and she wound her fingers in to it and held it just as Padmé stroked down her lek again. Anakin finally began to thrust, his movements driving Ahsoka's hips down against Padmé's, who gasped and closed her eyes.

The cyclical nature of her Force bond with Anakin meant that Ahsoka could practically feel what he was experiencing: her own body, hot and vice-like around his cock, the silkiness of her skin under his human hand, the way the noises she was making skewered him to the core. She bowed under the sensations, her lekku draping over Padmé's chest.

Padmé looked nearly gone herself, her pupils blown and her skin flushed and damp. She was rolling up against their still-locked legs in earnest, one hand clutching Ahsoka's shoulder and the other reaching past her to cup Anakin's jaw.

Anakin closed his hand around her rear lek and pulled very slightly, his hips moving hard and fast now, and it was enough. She gave a shuddering sob and ground down against Padmé hard as climax washed over her. Along their bond she felt her own body spasming rhythmically around Anakin. He groaned in to the space between he shoulder and montral as he fought for control.

In the tingling aftershocks, she became aware of Padmé bucking and clutching at her as orgasm claimed her as well. She looked stunning undone, Ahsoka thought, and kissed her jaw and throat.

In a cascade effect, Anakin was coming, his hips moving shallowly. Ahsoka felt it surge through him and a gentler, lazier swell of pleasure rolled through her as well.

He paused to catch his breath before withdrawing from them and rolling to the side. Padmé leaned up to kiss Ahsoka's cheekbone as they untangled their legs. They got situated and Anakin tugged the sheet up over all of them. Ahsoka nuzzled her head in to the crook of his shoulder, her body utterly relaxed and boneless. Padmé's hand slipped over her side and stroked slow, gentle circles against her belly.

Drowsiness clouded the edges of her mind as Ahsoka lay between them. She didn't know how this would work, if this would work. The future seemed uncertain, but there was nothing frightening about it. Her heart felt full.

Dawn came, and they slept.

 

–--

 

“Anakin, you aren't making any sense.” There was a mild panic to Obi-Wan's voice that Anakin was more than accustomed to. His former Master bobbed after him as Anakin calmly gathered the few belongings he had strewn about his Temple apartment. “The Council will forgive you... in time. I still can't understand why you'd let a terrorist like Boba Fett go free after receiving strict orders not to, but your logic has always been a bit.. difficult to follow.”

Anakin picked up a model Corvette ship and turned it over in his hand, studying it for a moment before chucking it in the disposal unit.

“I'm sure they'll reinstate you if you can prove your worth,” Obi-Wan was still trailing him around the room, his frustration mounting. “Anakin, are you listening? Anakin!”

Anakin turned finally, and laid his hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder. “It's not about the Council's decision, Obi-Wan. I don't blame them.” He patted him fondly and stepped in to the 'fresher to sort through his toiletries.

Obi-Wan opened and closed his mouth and blinked rapidly. He followed him to the 'fresher door and leaned against the frame.

“Then what? You're not thinking clearly. You can't--” he put his hand on Anakin's arm, stilling him. Anakin turned to look at him. “--you can't do this. You can't just walk away. It's not something that can be undone.”

Anakin smiled sadly. “I know, old friend. And I hope you can forgive me for it some day.”

He cinched the top of the satchel that held his belongings and shouldered it. “But I don't belong here anymore.” He looked around the room, taking in the four, bare walls, the golden light slotting in through the blinds, the rolled futon. “I'm not sure I ever did.”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan started again, sounding annoyed when Anakin began a last tour of his room. “This isn't a decision to make rashly. What will you do? Where will you go?” When Anakin didn't stop, his voice softened. “Anakin. Please.”

Anakin paused, his shoulders sagging. Obi-Wan looked... lost. Hurt. The beginnings of gray peppered the hair at his temples, and he had begun to carry himself more like someone who was middle-aged. A great tenderness for his Master welled within him, and he gathered him in to an embrace, hooking his chin over the shorter man's shoulder. Obi-Wan stiffened, and Anakin hugged him closer.

“I love you,” he said against Obi-Wan's shoulder. Anakin felt a surge of conflicting emotions radiate from his former Master before they were quickly tamped down. “Thank you for everything.”

Obi-Wan didn't move when Anakin released him. Anakin gave his shoulder a last squeeze and then adjusted his pack on his shoulder before heading past him towards the door to the apartment. The door was already sliding shut by the time Obi-Wan had grounded himself enough to turn.

Ahsoka was waiting for him on the speeder pad when Anakin descended the Temple steps. She stood leaning against one of the lightposts, looking out over the criss-cross of air traffic. On either hip, shoto and full-sized lightsaber hilts hung clipped to her belt.

She turned when she sensed his approached.

“You okay?”

He nodded for her to get on and went to strap his pack to the back of the bike. When he'd finished securing his pack he slid on to the speeder behind her.

“Yes,” he said, and there was no lie in his voice. His cirlced his arms around her middle as she palmed on the ignition.

From one of the broad windows of the Temple hallway, Obi-Wan watched their speeder become one of the nondescript thousands dotting the sky.