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Title: Skin
Author: Jedi Nemo (jedinemo@earthlink.net)
Rating: NC-17
Genre: AU, drama.

Disclaimer: as usual, Lucas owns everything, and this fanfic was written purely for fun.

Summary: Women provide the only comfort in Darth Vader's life.

Author's Note: 'In Next of Kin,' Vader finds three year old Luke in the care of his step-brother and sister-in-law and together they create an extended family for Luke. While everything runs smoothly at first, over time there would be complications. Arguments about how to raise Luke, fights about the accounting of monies provided, and maybe even this...


He knew what that look meant.

The first time he saw it, he hadn't understood, but she quickly educated him. It meant he had permission. To touch her, wherever he wanted.

It had been the first time they had been alone since the Battle of Geonosis , she having been caught up in the uproar over the start of the Clone Wars, as it was being called, and he only newly released from the medical center after the attachment of his prosthesis.

He had already decided he wouldn't hold her to the declaration she had made on Geonosis. Afterall, it had been made under duress, when she thought they were both going to die. And it had been made before he had lost his arm, before he had become part machine.

He was sitting in the pilot's seat of the gleaming Naboo skiff, having been given the official assignment of escorting her back to her homeworld,and he was scanning the instrument panel as if he was really doing something, but truth was the ship was fully auto while traveling through hyperspace, and his activity was a ruse. Instead he was torturing himself by running his mind over hers, too respectful to intrude very deeply, but unable to leave her alone nonetheless.

Her thoughts were relatively colorless as she sat in the rear passenger compartment, thumbing through the datapad she used for Senatorial business, the datapad that sometimes seemed glued to her hands. His own thoughts, however, had made his cock grow hard under his robe. Every now and then he ran his left hand over his erection, supressing a groan as gave himself a squeeze through his clothing.

He had spent quite awhile in this state, and had considered excusing himself to the 'fresher, except that he would have had to walk right by her to get there. Unwilling to put the disguising nature of his Jedi clothing to a test, he continued to sit, engorged, without a place to find release.

It was into this self-imposed purgatory that a faint flash of desire glowed, and it had not come from him. Its appearance startled him, and it quickly dissolved into nothingness. He waited patiently and was rewarded when it sparked again. He held it, savoring it until it faded away.It was replaced by another, and another, and another, until the feelings flashed so quickly that they bumped into each other. It was then that he heard her datapad sign off, and a soft thump, as though the device had been thrown onto the seat cushion.

He listened to the sound of her approaching footsteps. When she appeared next to his seat he quickly flung another layer of his robe across himself, hoping to conceal his arousal. Her eyes moved to his lap, and a sly smile turned up the corners of her mouth.

She reached a hand out to him, and his immediate response was to offer his right hand in answer. He moved enough that the servos in the metal prosthesis made themselves known, and he clamped the arm back against his body.His eyes fell, along with his erection.

She knelt down and he found her eyes looking up into his, her hand again extended to him. His brow furrowed for a moment, and then he put his left hand out to hers.She took hold of it, rising as she did so.

"Come on," she said, and he got up to follow her.

She led him past the seats in the passenger compartment to the sleeping quarters in the aft end of the ship. She chose one cabin, a cabin that contained a bed plusher than any he had ever slept in. When she turned to face him, she was wearing that look. The thoughts flowing from her mind should have told him what it meant, but he had never seen it before, and he hesitated.

She tilted her head up to him, rising on her toes to reach his lips. This motion he knew and he brought his mouth down on hers. Her tongue caressed his lips and he opened his mouth in response and instantly their tongues were intertwined and the kiss had gone from soft to urgent. He found he had his hands, the one of metal and the one of flesh,on each side of her face, but he didn't remember moving them, and he hadn't even noticed the sound of the electrodrivers.

She disentangled herself from him and stepped back. He waited, afraid he would do something that would bring this all to a halt.

She reached for his right hand, grasping the heavy leather glove that covered it. He tried to pull it back out of her hand but she wouldn't let go. He tensed as she began to unbuckle the metal fasteners that secured the glove to the prosthesis. When she pulled the loosened glove off of his metal hand, an unbidden protest escaped his lips.

She didn't try to hang on to his golden fingers, and he withdrew the metal arm in the sleeve of his robe. Her hands instead went to her own clothing, and she undid the long row of fasteners that adorned her gown, opening the front to reveal the sheer camisole she wore underneath.

He stood mesmerized, focused on the soft swell of her breasts, the only ones he had ever seen uncovered, outside of the Holonet. These were round and beautiful, and they were hers. She stepped up to him and he suddenly remembered to bring his eyes back up to her face.

She reached into his robe and pulled out his golden hand. He let her bring it upwards, suspicious until she placed it over her left breast. The thin fabric felt smooth under his artificial fingertips, soft not being something the receptors could discern, though it looked that way to his eyes. Ever so carefully he moved his metal thumb over her hardening nipple. After that he didn't even think about how the fabric felt because that sensation was completely overridden by the soft sounds that escaped her parted lips and the sight of her eyes going half closed with pleasure.

He brought his flesh hand to her other breast, and found that the fabric was soft. A breast cupped in each hand, he traced his thumbs over and over her rigid nipples, completely transfixed by her half lidded, open-mouthed expression. Experimentally he lightly pinched the stiff peaks, and felt his hardened cock pulse when she moaned in response.

The room had become entirely too warm and reluctantly he let his hands leave her to throw off his cloak. He undid his belt and sash, tossing them unceremoniously on the floor, and let the tabards slip to the ground.As he took her mouth again, he slipped his fingertips under the edge of her camisole, lifting it up to put his hands over her bare breasts, which his left hand told him were even softer than the fabric.

She worked to open his tunic and undertunic and he felt her fingertips pushing against the skin of his belly and her palms sliding across his waist, skimming his hip bones and ending up at the small of his back. Then her hands reversed direction, meeting back at the front of his leggings. When he felt her undo the fastener he pulled his lips from hers, and looked down to watch her hand disappear below the cloth. He let her fingers stroke up and down his hard shaft for only a few seconds before he grabbed her forearm and pulled her hand out to keep himself from coming.

He pulled the two layers of tunics over his head and saw that she was undressing as well.He reached down to his boots, his fingers fumbling on the latches. By the time he finally got them undone so that he could step out of them and shed his leggings, she had already thrown back the bed covers and climbed inside.Her head was nestled on the pillow, her dark eyes following his every move.

He joined her in the bed and as he laid his body against hers, he found that however pleasurable every other touch had been, it left him unprepared for the overwhelming sensation of full-length skin on skin.It was a feeling both soothing and electric, an intoxicating feeling that bypassed his groin and went directly to the pleasure centers of his brain.

They laid side by side,kissing, grinding together, her leg flung over his hip. He didn't know if she pulled him or he pushed her but then she was on her back and he found himself in the position he had imagined so many times. As he moved his knees between her thighs she drew her legs up to open herself to him. Her hands ruffled through his short hair as she pulled his head down for a kiss, and he lowered his body to hers.

His stiffened member pressed against her as he tried to find the opening he knew awaited him. He groaned when he felt the swollen head of his cock at last enter the warmth of her body. He pushed his arms to full extension and looked down upon her face, which was graced with a small smile.

"You feel so good," she said, her voice low and hoarse.

He smiled back and pushed himself deeper into her.It did feel good, better than any of the fantasies his mind and his hand had conspired to bring him. He could feel her hips roll up to help him and his body followed instinctual commands, withdrawing slightly and then plunging again, each stroke slicker than the last until his entire length was within her.

He paused at the top of his stroke, needing to regain control.He marveled at the effect he had on her, the way she protested when he withdrew, and the way she moaned when he thrust himself fully inside again. He began a slow rhythm, wanting to go faster, but afraid of hurting her. Her own rocking motion encouraged him to speed up, and at last he let go of his fears and thrust into her with abandon.He hadn't known her passion would match his own and when he finally came the pleasure was so intense it pushed out every other sensation, even the Force.

His heartbeat still pounding in his ears, he relaxed his arms, resting his weight carefully on top of her, feeling her breath come as fast as his own.For the first time that he could remember the roar of thoughts in his mind was silenced and he felt content. As they lay quietly together, one of her hands embraced his head and he heard her whisper in his ear.

"I love you," she said.

There it was, the same declaration, but this time unbidden, unprompted by impending death. Made even though her other hand was intertwined with one of metal. She who had accepted all of his fears, his bursts of anger, now took all of his body as well. He found he couldn't answer, could only hold her tighter and press a fervent kiss to her neck.

He knew he was now completely lost, would be beholden to her for the rest of his life.


He hadn't thought that look would ever be directed at him again, but there it was. Unexpected, but unmistakable, and not unwelcome.

She wasn't really his type: a little too fair, a little too plain, but he'd grown to appreciate her gentle nature. Because of her, his stops at the Lars homestead had become more than simply visits to Luke; they had become a respite from the unending pressure of Imperial service and the interminable mindgames with Palpatine.

If Owen was gone he would sit at the dining table and watch her go about her daily routine, listening to her recount Luke's latest adventures. Sometimes she would veer off on to other topics : troubles with the vaporators, gossip from Anchorhead, frustrations with Owen. He didn't always listen so closely to these subjects, but he never stopped her from talking. The soft tones of her voice and the domestic setting reminded him of his own childhood and of time spent listening to his mother in a similar mud walled kitchen. Some days it soothed him so much that he found his eyes drifting closed and he had stop himself from nodding off.

Maybe it was his fault. They had just put Luke down for a nap, and as usual he had been overwhelmed by how kind she was to his son. The affectionate touches and seemingly infinite patience she gave to the boy made him so grateful, so very grateful. It didn't matter that Luke called her "Aunt Beru" and not "mother"; the boy could not have been more loved if he was her own.

She walked out of Luke's room ahead of him, and as he looked down at her slight form he had the sudden impulse to put his hands on her shoulders. She paused when the thick gloves contacted her skin but didn't tense at all, rather she leaned back against his hands and turned her neck upwards to him. The sight of her yielding to him was too arousing for him to pull his hands away. Owen be damned, it had been too long, way too long for him to ignore her response.

He wanted to run his tongue over the graceful neck that had been presented to him but all he could do was bring the mask down to her skin. Her back arched as the warm exhale of the ventilator caressed her.

Maybe it was her fault. Despite the armor that successfully intimidated legions of troops and the admirals that commanded them, this slip of a girl insisted on treating him as if he was still dressed in a Jedi robe with his Padawan braid hanging behind his ear. She smiled at him often, talked to him lightly, and didn't cringe in the least when he drew near. It was such a novel response compared to what happened in the rest of his life that he sometimes crowded her on purpose. She would move out of his way, but he couldn't elicit any fear. She trusted him.

Like she did now, as he pushed her forward across the courtyard and away from Luke's room. When they entered the dining room, she spun around, and she was wearing that look. He stepped forward to test it, and her head dropped, though she continued to look at him through lowered lashes.

"You can still...," she said.

He nodded slowly. Inside his helmet he clenched his jaw and his nostrils flared. He would have pinned her arms over her head and seized her mouth, ground his bulging erection against her to give her an idea of who she had just said yes to. Would have, except that only some of that was possible.

His eyes fell to her chest. He ran his tongue over his lips as he imagined his mouth on the sweet pink nipples that would adorn her pale breasts. He wanted to suck each peak into hardness, make her desire grow until she begged him to take her. He growled in protest against the limitations of the helmet.

At least he could still touch her. He ran a gloved index finger down the front of her tunic.

"Show me," he said.

Her eyes never left the mask as she slowly unfastened her tunic. He slid his hands to either side of the fabric and spread the garment open to reveal her breasts fully. His fingertips grazed her skin as he did so, and he was disappointed by how much the gloves dulled the sensation. He wanted more than his eyes to enjoy the body that stood bared to him.

He pulled each glove off in turn, and even though she had felt his hands through the leather before, she blinked rapidly as his metal fingers were exposed. She flinched slightly when he brushed the back of his hand against her cheek, but relaxed as he gently traced his fingertips down her throat and chest until at last his hand surrounded a breast. As he fondled her she reacted as he expected, but for himself the feeling was pale compared to his memory of flesh on flesh.

Her soft moans of pleasure stopped as he removed his hand from her and reached to unlatch his codpiece. Once freed of the plastoid protector he undid the suit's fly and released his throbbing erection. Though the sight of her taking the cue and falling to her knees was arousing enough, the feel of the afternoon breeze across the bare skin of his cock was even more erotic, the first kiss of natural air that he had felt in years.

He leaned forward on his toes and she opened her mouth to him. Her tongue deftly outlined the taut edge of his cock head over and over, and his eyes rolled back when she at last closed her lips around his shaft. He steadied himself with a hand on her head and slowly rocked in and out of the warmth of her mouth.

When she brought him too close to the edge, he pulled back and lifted her by her forearms. Once she was standing he had only one thought.

"Turn around," he commanded.

Compliance left her facing the dining table and he bent her over so that she had to brace herself on the tabletop. He flipped her skirt up over her waist and with one hand ripped her panties down past her knees. Her breathing sounded ragged and her beautifully round cheeks swayed as she anticipated his touch. He grasped the durasteel rod that was his erection and slowly rubbed the head against her cleft. He swam in all the sensations that his own skin told him but that his metal hands never could: that she was warm, and wet, and ready for him.

He slid in just the tip of his cock and stopped, though she tried to push back and take more of him inside of her. It was an almost unbelievable sight. Skin on skin. His skin. The only way he had touched another person, truly touched them since that day long ago.

Her body clenched aound him and then he could wait no longer. He shoved his length in fully and the pleasure of it flooded his mind. He moved slowly at first, content to just watch himself thrust in and out of her. He saw her bring a hand down to herself and he smiled at her impatience.

"Not enough?" he asked.

"Harder," she whispered.

He smiled again."Be careful what you wish for."

He drew himself almost all the way out, then slammed into her, hard enough to make her gasp. He shifted his focus from the sight of his cock to the feel of it and soon he wasn't following her wishes but his body's own demand that he pump her as hard as he could. She leaned farther over the table, changing the angle of her hips for her own pleasure and he supported her body as she began to cry out, slowing enough to savor the feel of her orgasm coursing along his length. He pulled her hips to him and held her precisely where it felt best, building his rhythm again, until at last he clutched her tight to keep himself thrust most deeply and let himself come in waves that pulsed again and again.

As conscious thought began to filter back into his mind he realized he was lightheaded, probably a consequence of the ventilator being unable to keep up with his exertions.He had pushed his body to its limit, but it had been worth every second. He stepped back from her and let his cock fall out of her body. He looked at it, glistening and still half hard. It was proof, proof that despite his four metal limbs and the array of electronic controls that kept him alive he was not a droid. Not a monster. Not Grievous. Force, he was not Grievous.

She stood up from the table, pulling up her panties and rearranging her skirt, and he could hear her sobbing softly. He felt of her mind and found a whirlwind of emotions: guilt, regret, fear. He didn't want her to feel so agonized, she who he owed so much, for the care of his son and for... this. This act that showed him that he was still human.

After tucking himself back in, he took her arm and pulled her to him. He used a golden finger to wipe tears from her downcast eyes and put his arms around her, carefully leaning a plane of the mask against the top of her head.

"Ssshhh," he said. "I won't tell Owen. It'll be all right. Ssshhh."

When he felt her nod and her arms tenatively slide under the cloak and along his back, he knew that it would be.


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