Part One:
Part Two:
Part Three:
Part Four:
Padme Amidala smiled warmly at Bail Organa, as he stood guard beside of the hospital bed, her protective guardian. She thought he might have had even less sleep than herself, rarely letting the twin newborns, Luke and Leia, out of his sight. The babes were sleeping peacefully in cribs in the adjoining room, at last giving the adults the privacy to discuss their future. “Thank you for everything you’ve done, senator.”
“It is a shame there is no other alternative, but Breha will understand. She knows you. She'll step aside as my Queen if it is a matter of your survival,” he said. As he took Padme's hand, his fingers brushed over the golden wedding band on her finger. “Senator is a little formal, don’t you think? You’ll have to get accustomed to calling me Bail.”
“And you’ll need to get accustomed to being called daddy,” Padme said with a weak laugh, the first time she had smiled since Mustafa.
Bail nodded solemnly, as if taken on some heavy duty. “I’ve no doubt Palpatine will try to come for you and the children. Perhaps he is already sending his agents...” He glanced up as the maternity ward door opened, emitting one of those wetnurse droids into the room. He gave it little mind, merely barking a curt “one moment” as it approached him. The droid was frozen instantly by the command, only its beach-ball sized rubber mammaries jiggling. “But with the children as my own and you at my side as my wife and Queen, nothing will ever harm you. I promise you that. The Royal House of Alderaan is too powerful for him to go against publicly.”
Through the haze of postnatal hormones, Padme thought Bail had never looked so handsome. She reached out to caress her new husband’s face. Even if the marriage was one of convenience, she saw lust alight in his eyes, and coaxed his hands towards her body. A gentleman to the last, he hesitated for a moment before his strong hands slipped beneath the maternity gown to stroke her thighs. Her own arousal building, her hands began to strip away his tunic, stroking his muscular chest, as they fell backwards onto the bed, locked in a passionate kiss.
“What did I ever see in Anakin?” she moaned breathlessly as his tongue ravaged her mouth. She'd never kissed a man with a beard before. It was different to the clean-cheeked Anakin, and better. “To think I gave that petulant boy a moment of my time when there was a real man beside me all this time.”
Her attention turned briefly to the wetnurse in the room. Paralyzed in place by its programming, its supple flesh quivered as if from some silent, internal rage, though the doll-like face, turned towards them, remained an impassive mask.
Strange, she frowned. There's something about this gynoid that is... familiar? Yet it looks no different from any of the other milk-leaking bimbo bots.
Bail’s masterful hands recaptured her attention, eliciting a squeak of pleasure as they found her center. She pulled him atop her with a breathy moan of "husband."