Give Me Love

*chapter forty seven*

Warning: smut

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"Don't look at me," you bit as you walked out of the bathroom. Your legs still felt like jelly, hair dripping wet as you had just gotten out of your bath, and Anakin was lying on the new bedsheets he'd put on the bed.

"But you're so pretty," he grinned toothily.

Your eyes glossed over with hot moisture, taken aback by the blunt compliment. He always knew just the right way to make you weak.

"No, c'mon, none of that," he chuckled, reaching out for you from the bed. You huffed and fell into his arms, rubbing your head against his chest, all warm and soft beneath you.

"Are we done being shy now?" he teased, rubbing your back. You only closed your eyes in response, melting into him.

"I will be, when you stop embarrassing me."

"Embarrassing you? I was just looking at you."

"That's all it takes."

He laughed again, closing his arms tighter around you. You were silent now, exhausted by the way you seemed to go boneless as soon as you touched the bed. And he thought maybe he'd let you get some rest, especially after everything you'd been through lately. 

You felt him kiss your forehead real gently, and then whisper "goodnight". And almost as if he had willed it himself, you immediately plunged into a deep sleep.

You thought, with the immense amounts of pleasure he had given you only an hour before, you would have had pleasant, satisfied dreams.

But no.

Your mind returned to the Temple, like it had been doing for a whole month now each time you closed your eyes. Each time was a different snapshot of chaos: the roof smoking, plants knocked over, soldiers in white and blue slaughtering the Jedi, and Anakin walking up the steps, leading them in the massacre.

You didn't understand these dreams. Didn't understand why it was Anakin doing all these terrible things. 

You thought it was just your mind conjuring him up because you missed him so terribly in your fathers lab, mixed with the misery and despair of being there, which is why you were dreaming of a massacre on the Jedi. It was the only explanation that made sense.

But this dream-- right now-- was more fucked up than anything you'd had before.

It was Anakin again, face shielded by that dark cloak. He was walking into a classroom, one that the younglings used in training. 

A dozen tiny faces huddled behind chairs in the dark, but when Anakin walked in, they emerged in relief.

"Master Skywalker," a small, blonde-haired boy spoke up for the rest of them, and your heart melted at the fear in his eyes. "What are we going to do?"

Help them, you begged Anakin. All of the Jedi were dying, but he could help the children. Help them escape.

But he remained stone-still. Lowered his gaze. Met the child's eyes straight-on, cold and uncaring. And activated his lightsaber.

You wrenched yourself out of the dream as fast as you could, unable to watch anymore.

What the hell was that? What kind of fucked up dream did your mind just come up with?!

Maybe the lab messed you up more than you originally thought.

Anakin was sleeping beneath you, breathing deep and steady as you listened to his heart beat beneath his cheek. With each second that passed, you counted both of your heartbeats and let the comforting sound calm you.