Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/8489890.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Star_Wars:_The_Clone_Wars_(2008)_-_All_Media_Types
  Relationship:
      Anakin_Skywalker/Ahsoka_Tano
  Character:
      Anakin_Skywalker, Ahsoka_Tano
  Additional Tags:
      Mating_Cycles/In_Heat, Alien_Biology, Mildly_Dubious_Consent, Plot_What
      Plot/Porn_Without_Plot
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-11-06 Words: 3511
****** what spring does with the cherry trees ******
by victoria_p_(musesfool)
Summary
     When Ahsoka's heat suppressant wears off while they're on a long trip
     through hyperspace, Anakin lends a helping hand. Among other things.
Notes
     Title from "Poem XIV: Every Day You Play" by Pablo Neruda (trans. by
     W.S. Merwin).
     Content notes: Ahsoka's 16, and I guess the consent could be
     considered dubious, since she's in the grip of biological imperative.
     I guess also infidelity, technically, though Anakin's pretty sure
     he'll be able to talk Padmé around.
It's the middle of the night shift on their second day in hyperspace when
Anakin realizes he hasn't seen Ahsoka since they boarded theResolute. It's not
unusual for either of them to sleep for a full rotation after a prolonged
mission, but they generally check up on each other afterwards--she makes sure
he finishes his after action reports and he makes sure she eats and hydrates,
and they go over everything that happened and what they could do better next
time.
He reaches out in the Force but gets nothing back but a vague irritation, like
an itch he can't quite scratch in the back of his skull.
He finds Rex in the ready room, hunched over a datapad and a mug of caf. They
review some intelligence reports that have come in from Coruscant and speculate
about their next deployment, and then he asks, "Have you seen Ahsoka?"
Rex shakes his head. "She's been holed up in her cabin since we boarded, sir.
Seemed like she was in a bit of a mood." Rex sounds more fond than exasperated,
probably because Ahsoka would rather save the sharper edge of her tongue for
Anakin than take a bad mood out on the men. Not that she should be having moods
at all, but Anakin's not one to talk on that front. They'd spent three weeks
longer on Ord Mantell than planned, stealing away their leave time on
Coruscant, and that's worn on all of them.
He thinks about the last time she'd disappeared while in the grip of a mood,
counts back the days, and it's like a light goes off somewhere in his brain.
He gives Rex a half-smile of commiseration. "Ah. Okay, thanks."
He stops by the infirmary and picks up a heating pad and then charms some
emergency chocolate out of the cook in the galley. He's got this.
He knocks on the door to Ahsoka's cabin and gets a growled, "Go away," in
response.
"C'mon, Snips. It's me." He can sense her annoyed reluctance, so he says, "I
have chocolate."
The door whooshes open and she's standing in the doorway, arms crossed over her
chest, dressed in nothing but a worn bathrobe. She doesn't move aside to let
him in.
"Chocolate," he says with a grin, pushing past her into the room, "and a
heating pad." He places both items on the desk.
"Thank you, Master," she says tightly, still hanging around by the door, "but
that's not going to help."
Her breathing is ragged and her skin is beaded with sweat, making him rethink
his initial assumption. Then again, maybe it takes some women that way. He
hasn't really paid much attention to anyone but Padmé, whose complaints are
usually limited to lower back pain and cravings for chocolate.
"I'm pretty good with a back massage," he offers gamely.
It's not unusual for masters and padawans to have that kind of physical
contact, especially after sparring or battle, but he's mostly shied away from
it with Ahsoka. He's not the most media-savvy person in the galaxy, despite
Obi-Wan and Padmé's instruction and the propaganda campaign he's reluctantly
been a part of, but he is aware of some of the more salacious rumors about him
and Ahsoka out there on the holonet, how their partnership--which he's grown to
rely upon--appears to outsiders with prurient minds.
She shudders visibly and a wave of heat swamps the Force bond between them,
sparking through what feels like his entire nervous system.
"It's not what you think," she says.
"Ahsoka?" His voice unexpectedly dips into a lower register.
"Just go." She sounds hoarse and a little desperate, and he finds his own pulse
speeding up a little in response.
"If you're sick and you need help," he starts, and then swallows to clear the
roughness from his voice. It doesn't work. "You shouldn't be alone."
She stalks towards him, stopping mere centimeters away, her eyes narrowed and
her chin raised in a challenge. He remembers that Togruta are predators and he
suddenly feels like prey, the hair on the back of his neck prickling in
awareness. The Force pulses between them, almost palpable with need, electric
under his skin. His nostrils flare at the scent of her and he finds himself
matching his breathing to hers.
She licks her lips and cocks a hip. "You gonna help me, Master?" It sounds more
seductive than sarcastic, a tone he's never heard from her before. He ignores
the way his belly twists pleasurably at the use of his title.
He holds her gaze. "If you tell me what it is you need, I will."
Her lekku twitch and she gives another whole-body shiver at his words. She
places a hand on his chest, fingers curling into his tabards, and tips her head
up to capture his lips in a kiss. He gasps against her mouth, surprised, but
doesn't otherwise let himself respond.
It's not that he's never thought about it. She's a beautiful girl and they
spend a ridiculous amount of time together, and despite all the Jedi
prohibitions against it, he loves her. He's also caught her sending him
occasional speculative glances when she thinks he's not looking, which makes
him sure that he's not the only one who's ever thought of it. But he's devoted
to his wife, and Ahsoka is his padawan. It's inappropriate. Not that he's ever
let that stop him when he wants something. This has just been something he's
never allowed himself to want.
He wraps his hands around her biceps to hold her in place and pulls back just
far enough to look her in the eye. "What the kriff?"
She looks away, and her sense of shame roils in their bond. "Heat," she says.
"What?" She's not making any sense.
She rolls her eyes and that's more like the Ahsoka he's used to. "This is
Biology 101, Anakin." It's funny how much she sounds like Obi-Wan sometimes.
(It's less funny that that's not even a turnoff.)
"I probably slept through it." He shrugs, not even a little abashed. "C'mon,
Snips. Help me out here, and I'll help you out with," he waves a hand,
"whatever's got you all in a tizzy."
"Togruta women experience an estrus cycle, not a menstrual one, like human
women," she says through gritted teeth. "There's a hypospray, a suppressant,
for those of us who don't want to deal with it in the field and haven't
mastered meditating it away." She sways toward him, the skin of her upper arms
warm against his fingertips, and then straightens back up and swallows hard. "I
take it twice a year, but we didn't make it back to the Temple in time for my
usual appointment, and the last dose has," her lekku twitch again, "worn off."
She leans up, nuzzles at his throat, and then nips at the hinge of his jaw with
sharp teeth. "You still wanna help?" Her breath is warm against his ear and
it's his turn to shiver.
His body is already saying yes, one hundred percent, with the Force not far
behind, urging him on with startling clarity. Or maybe that's Ahsoka's hunger
bleeding through their bond. His brain takes a moment or three to get on board,
because there are a number of factors to consider. First, they're going to be
in hyperspace for another two days and Ahsoka needs him now. Second, there are
other men on the ship, and at least half the 501st would line up to help her
with this, but she's their commander and the aftermath could be awkward. Last,
and most importantly, he's married and he takes those vows even more seriously
than the ones he took to the Order. But he loves Ahsoka, and he knows Padmé
does too, and she needs his help.
He's always been better at begging forgiveness than asking permission.
In the end, that makes it easy to look her in the eye and say, "Yes."
The sound of her surprised little gasp sends another jolt of heat through him,
and then he's kissing her, really kissing her this time, lips and tongues and
teeth, wet and hot and messy.
She moans into his mouth, presses her body against him, all soft curves and
taut muscle, and they stumble back until the bed hits his knees. He sits and
she swarms into his lap, never breaking the kiss, her hands fumbling at his
belt, his tabards, the laces of his fly, seeking out skin and friction.
"Patience," he murmurs against her left lek, and he can feel the vibration of
her growl in response. He laughs, delighted and a little incredulous. And then
it's his turn to gasp as she lowers her shields and nearly overwhelms him with
the strength of her desire.
"Been like that since I woke up this morning," she says, shrugging out of her
worn robe and giving him access to long swathes of warm, supple skin. Her
breasts are firm and high, her nipples peaked and inviting and he rolls one
between his thumb and forefinger. Her eyes flutter closed and she grinds down
against him. "I think I've been unbelievably patient."
"Okay," he agrees. He pulls his tabards and tunic off and tosses them to the
floor. She runs her hands across his shoulders and then down over his chest and
belly, each touch a little blossom of heat beneath his skin.
He kisses her again, slower now, sucking on her lower lip and then curling his
tongue over hers, learning what she likes. With the part of his brain not
currently overwhelmed by arousal, he manages to use the Force to get his
trousers undone so he doesn't have to take his hands off her.
He pulls back just enough to breathe, inhaling the heady scent of sex. "Have
you ever done this before?"
She gives him a pointed look. "When would I have had the time?"
He huffs a laugh. "Fair enough. Do we need contraception?"
"No, we're not genetically compatible," she says. She rocks down against him.
"What is this, twenty questions?"

"Just trying to be responsible." He gasps the last word as she reaches down and
curls a hand around his dick. "You're still my padawan."
She gives him a weirdly sweet smile, considering the situation. "I'm sure I'll
appreciate that later. If I'm not too embarrassed to ever speak to you again."
"It's just biology," he tells her, wrapping his hand around hers and showing
her how to touch him. "We're more than this."
"If you quote Master Yoda at me right now, I might have to hit you," she says.
He smiles and kisses her nose. "Okay, point. You ready?"
"I've been ready for the last twelve hours," she says, shifting up so she can
sink down onto him.
She's hot and wet and tighter than he expected, and for someone who's never had
sex before, she gets the hang of it immediately. She rides him relentlessly,
her nails digging into his shoulders and her head thrown back in feral
pleasure. He can feel everything she's feeling through the Force, which is
sparking bright white behind his eyelids as his own pleasure builds almost
unbearably.
He strokes his gloved hand down her lek and she moans and clenches around him.
She takes his left hand and moves it down between them, shows him how to rub
her clit. It's larger and more prominent than a human's would be, but given the
way her body's responding, it serves the same function. Good to know, he thinks
vaguely, leaning in to take one of her nipples in his mouth. Her hand comes up
to tangle in his hair and press him closer when he uses his teeth, her approval
echoing in the Force.
Somehow, he's not surprised that they're good at doing this together the way
they are at everything else.
He moves to her other nipple, licking and sucking in response to the way she
tightens around him and the desperate little sounds that she makes. She pulls
his hair and the tiny pinpricks of pain ratchet the tension in him even higher,
heat licking up his spine and making it hard to breathe.
She comes with a hoarse cry, his name on her lips and her body shaking in his
arms as she clenches tight around him. She lets her head fall forward onto his
shoulder and he presses a kiss between her montrals.
He takes advantage of her languor to lay them down and roll them so he's on
top, though his legs are still hobbled by his trousers and boots. Ahsoka wraps
her legs around his hips and tilts herself up, ready for more even as the
aftershocks of her first orgasm are still shuddering through her. She scrapes
her nails down his back and then grabs his ass, fingers digging in hard.
"Come on," she says. "I need you."
He thrusts harder, deeper, like he's trying to make himself a part of her, and
she surges up to meet him, as wild and desperate as if she hasn't just come, as
if the universe will explode if she doesn't come again.
They pant into each other's mouths as if they're sharing the only air in the
galaxy and he's so close to coming he can practically taste it. She reaches for
him in the Force, sharing the waves of pleasure rolling over her as she comes
again, and his orgasm hits with the kick of a starfighter punching into
hyperspace.
This time, he rests his head on her shoulder and she strokes a hand through his
sweaty hair, murmuring his name like a mantra. She makes a small noise of
disappointment when he pulls out, but he's got to take his pants and boots off,
and clean himself up.
He looks down at her sprawled out on the narrow bed, chest heaving, skin
glistening with sweat, and his come painting her thighs. She's beautiful.
His heart is so full of love and lust and affection that he can't find the
words to express, so he lets it roll out into the Force between them, letting
that speak when all he can manage to say is, "It's gonna be all right."
She ducks her head but he can see her mouth curving in a smile.
He doesn't spend much time in the 'fresher, but he does take a long drink of
water and fill a glass for her. But when he comes back out, she's fingering
herself, already hungry for more. She looks like something out of the porn he'd
never admit to watching when he was younger, only better because she's real and
she's here and she needs him. He watches for a moment, his dick twitching at
the sight, but not quite ready for another go yet. He sets the glass on the
desk for later.
"Let me help," he says with a grin. He wraps his fingers around her ankle and
she moves with him as he pulls her legs around so he can kneel on the floor
between them. She smells like him now, salty and earthy and sharp, and he leans
in to lick at the mess he made of her. The skin of her inner thighs is soft and
hot, the texture silky and smooth. When he licks into her cunt, she lets out a
shocked noise and then tries to cover her mouth with her arm.
He leans back and meets her gaze intently. "I want to hear you," he says,
slipping two fingers inside her, and then putting his mouth on her clit.
She lets out another moan and tries to thrust against his face. He puts a hand
on her leg to hold her in place, but her hips still hitch in desperate little
movements that shouldn't be as hot as they are.
She comes quickly this time, with a rush of wet heat against his mouth, and
then she leans forward and kisses him, using her tongue to taste herself on his
skin, rough little licks that tickle. His hands tighten on her thighs and she
laughs softly.
She curls a hand around his wrist and tugs. "Get up here."
He lets her arrange him like a body pillow, her leg thrown over his, her arm
around his waist, and her head on his chest. He strokes her montrals and lekku
gently, and slowly they catch their breath. They're on top of the blankets, and
he's too full of warmth and lassitude to get up (even if she would let him), so
with the flick of his fingers and a touch of the Force, he covers them with her
discarded bathrobe.
"Okay?" he asks. "You want some water? You should hydrate." He uses the Force
to float the glass over, too, and grins when he doesn't spill a drop.
She rolls her eyes but drinks when he hands her the glass. Then she hands it
back to him to dispose of, hums contentedly, and wriggles against him before
settling down.
Just when he thinks she's asleep she says, "They say giving in to it makes it
pass quicker, maybe shaves as much as twelve hours off, but the Jedi--" She
heaves a sigh.
"Yeah?" he prompts when she doesn't go on.
"Jedi teachings suggest that meditation and the release of these feelings to
the Force will ease the urge until it's no longer an issue at all." She sounds
like she's quoting something she's been taught. Her mouth twists. "Rumor has it
that Master Ti doesn't use the suppressant at all, even when she's away from
the Temple."
Anakin nods. He can believe that. Shaak Ti is a formidable Jedi.
"But it's not true." She rests her chin on his sternum so she can meet his
gaze. "I asked her about it once, and she said that if the suppressant wears
off in the field, and I quote, 'one should find a caring friend to help one
through the worst of it.'" She gives him a small, rueful smile. "She said,
'We're not unthinking beasts, Ahsoka, that we should be slaves to our biology,
but we do live in the physical world, and it's foolish to ignore the demands of
the body if there are needs to be met.'"
"That's...surprisingly sensible," he replies, and she lets out a surprised
giggle. "No wonder you didn't try to do it."
"Hey."
"I'm just saying, Ahsoka. I'm here for any and all emergencies you have. It's
kind of how this whole thing works."
She ducks her head. "I know, Master. It's just--It's embarrassing. I feel like
a failure as a Jedi."
He remembers what it was like to be sixteen, to feel like everyone was watching
everything he did and waiting to find fault, and he can imagine it's not much
easier for her, as his padawan. And that's before adding in the war, which
saddles her with responsibilities he hadn't had at her age. He's lucky she's
not as sensitive to slights as he'd been as a teen.
"As embarrassing as that time your lightsaber got stolen and you didn't think
I'd find out about it?"
That makes her look at him again. "How did you find out about that?"
He gives her a knowing look, akin to the one Obi-Wan used to give him whenever
he got caught doing something he shouldn't have been doing. He's seen it often
enough to copy it pretty exactly. "Or the time you ran off half-cocked and got
caught by Cad Bane in an obvious trap?"
"I was just following Master Kenobi's advice," she says defensively.
He laughs softly. "My point is that we make mistakes and we learn from them,
and the people we care about won't hold them against us or, you know, laugh at
us." He drops another kiss between her montrals. "Much."
She gives him a warm smile. "Thanks, Master." This time, she leans up and
kisses him softly.
"S'what I'm here for." He wraps an arm around her. "You think you can sleep for
a bit before the next wave hits?"
"Sounds like a plan," she says, yawning. "You too, Master."
He hums noncommittally. He tends to sleep better with someone in bed with him,
but he doesn't expect to sleep now, even though he probably should if he wants
to keep up with her when she wakes. But he needs to figure out what to tell
Padmé and what Ahsoka should tell the Temple healers when they get back to
Coruscant. He also wants to enjoy this as long as it lasts, because he knows
how lucky he is that she shared it with him, even if she probably doesn't see
it that way. It's okay, though. He can treasure it enough for the both of them.
He does fall asleep eventually, lulled by the warmth of her presence and the
rhythm of her breathing, and it's the best sleep he's had in weeks.
end
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