#ophelia ... rex | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

isaut · 6 months ago

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𝒍𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒚 𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔, 𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒕𝒉 𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓— f!reader x captain rex. 13.5. ao3

you get the date you were hoping for, not the date you were expecting. previous. masterlist.

It’s been thirty minutes. The waitress has passed your table apologetically three times, topping off your wine instead of waiting for the glass to empty. You shake your hair back, out of your face, though you think it might serve better to cover it up– there are tears of shame churning in the back of your throat.

Another sip of wine. Maybe you should just order fries.

Another sip of wine. If they aren’t coming, you should just order fries.

Another sip of wine. Celeste’s house isn’t far. You could wear this outfit out to a bar. You should wear this outfit out, you look nice and approachable. At least you think so. Just girlish enough for a first date. Just womanly enough to show that you’re a true marriage prospect.

Don’t want to scare anyone off. You’re good at scaring people off.

You don’t even want to get married.

You pick unseen lint off your dress.

Behind you, the door jingles. Again. You turn around to see if maybe it’s your date. You can hear Jolie’s voice in your head: “He’s attractive! Red hair, tall. You can’t miss him.” He’d been talked up quite a bit, and with each passing second, the built up image was lowering. The once reputable businessman was now a college boy with one pillow on his bed.

It’s two men who enter.

Both faces are familiar.

You make eye contact with the most familiar of the two. Amber eyes widen in surprise, just as yours do.

Rex looks handsome, just as handsome as he was the last time you saw him. There’s a cut over his eyebrow currently, which has a few pieces of medical tape on it. His hair is cut so short it’s barely there, as if it’s freshly done.

Quickly, you return back around.

This is embarrassing. Your heart thrums away in your chest.

Another sip of wine.

“Table for two?” A server asks, coming over to Rex and Fives.

Fives waits for Rex to respond for them, like he normally would. However, when he looks over, he finds his brother focused on other things. Other things: a pretty woman with her back to them, wine glass to glossy lips.

Weird.

“We’ve got an order for pickup,” Fives says. “Under Skywalker.”

“Oh!” The server nods. “I’ll be right back. The kitchen just finished up.”

She turns and leaves, just as you catch one or glance over your shoulder. Fives nudges Rex with his shoulder.

“You feeling okay, captain?” Fives asks.

Rex clears his throat, looking over at the other man. “What?”

Fives leans in, keeping his eyes trained on glossy hair and exposed shoulders. “Think she likes you,” Fives whispers, though it’s Fives, so it’s not much of a whisper.

“Drop it,” Rex mutters. His mind moves a million miles per second. What is the likelihood that he’s running into you again. His heart skips a beat when he remembers both of your prior encounters. Shame fills the tips of his ears when he remembers how often his daydreaming had fluttered out of control.

The hum on Fives’s lips is brotherly at best. Teasing at worst. “Maybe she was looking at me.”

“I said drop it, Fives,” Rex repeats. He reaches into his pocket for the credits they’d been sent with.

“Maybe I’ll go say something to her,” Fives presses. He won’t, but it still rubs Rex the wrong way.

“She’s…” Rex’s voice trails off. His original statement: She’s clearly here with someone doesn’t seem too true. There are three glasses on the table: two waters and a wine glass that rests in your hand. And one of the waters was full, with a thick puddle of condensation around it.

The server returns with four large brown bags of food.

“Here you go!” She says cheerly, handing them over to Fives.

Rex pays her. Both he and Fives get back onto the street, before Rex hesitates.

“What is it?” Fives asks.

“I’ve got– I’ll meet you back at the ship,” Rex says.

Fives squints at Rex. “If you gotta piss, I’ll wait for you.”

“No, I– It’s a long story,” Rex says. “I’ll meet you back at the ship.”

The door jingles again. Once more, you look back over your shoulder. It’s deja vu– Your eyes widen again, surprised upon seeing Rex again.

The server comes over to him. “Did we forget something?”

“Oh, no, it’s, I just…” Rex gestures vaguely over to you.

“Oh!” The server's eyes light up. “Oh, she’s going to be so excited you’re here.”

Rex thinks she’s got him confused with someone else. (She does. He’d never have you waiting for him.)

She leads Rex over to your table, a beaming smile on her face. “Guess who’s here!”

You look up at Rex, lips round in surprise.

“Rex,” you say.

He returns your name. There’s a moment of hesitation, where the server’s eyes bounce between the two of you, expectant.

After a beat, Rex takes the seat across from you.

“What are you doing here?” You both ask at the same time. Then: “You first.”

You laugh softly at it. The ridiculousness of the situation.

Another sip of wine.

“I’m supposed to be on a date,” you admit. “With a tall, redheaded man.”

Rex’s eyes widen. He places his hands on the table as if to stand. “Oh, I’ll go.”

“He hasn’t shown up in…” you look at the analog watch on your wrist. “Thirty-three minutes. I don’t think he’s coming.”

Rex doesn’t know who in their right mind would stand you up. “He must be insane.”

You can’t help the fluttering eye roll that follows. “I think I’m the insane one for waiting this long. What are you doing here?”

“This is one of my general’s favorite restaurants,” Rex replies. “He got us all dinner tonight.”

“He’s got good taste,” you say.

The server comes back, this time addressing Rex. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Oh, I’m not–” “We need just a moment longer.”

“Of course.”

The server leaves you two alone again.

You and Rex stare at each other.

“Do you have to get back to…” you trail off, not knowing exactly where Rex needs to get back to. All you know is that he has to get back somewhere.

“I’ll catch up later,” Rex says, brushing it off. “I felt– It felt like it would have been a crime to not come and say anything to you.”

“Don’t exactly need you to call me when you’re going to be in town if I’m going to run into you everytime, do I?” You ask, leaning forwards on the table. “Would have been nice to know, though. Then I wouldn’t have scheduled this tonight.”

Had you not scheduled this tonight, you wouldn’t have seen Rex. Instead, you’d have been at a friends house, or at a bar, or in your own apartment. You don’t let yourself linger with that for too long.

“Wouldn’t have seen you otherwise,” Rex says. “Um. Force works in mysterious ways and all that.”

You can’t help but giggle at that. “It does, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Rex agrees, his smile caused by your own.

“They have good beers here,” you say. “If you’re going to get something.”

Rex feels torn. He would love to stay with you, have a meal, have a drink or two, end the evening however it ends. Maybe in the way it always seems to. However. He can’t just go AWOL on his brothers like this.

Rex searches your eyes. You blink slowly at him. He swears you might be the prettiest thing he’s ever seen in his life.

“Give me a second,” Rex says. He leans back in the chair, reaching into the pocket of his pants. He produces a small comm chip, and glances over at you. Already, he’s explaining himself. “It’s military.”

“It’s fine.”

Rex doesn’t think it is. He should call you. Your number is in his quarters.

He presses the button on it, illuminating it green. “Hey, this is Rex. I’m going to be late coming back.”

“Morning,” you mouth at him.

“I’ll be back in the morning,” Rex relays.

“Rex?” Rex takes a deep breath, recognizing the familiar tone of General Skywalker’s voice. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good. I’ll be back in the morning by O-800.”

“Ten?” You mouth, trying your luck.

Rex smiles, his eyes crinkling as he shakes his head. There’s a beat of silence.

When Anakin speaks next, there’s a smile on his voice. “Got it. See you in the morning.”

Rex slips the communication device back in his pocket. In his mind’s eye, the scene back at the ship is clear. There’s whatever story Fives has concocted, mixing with the general’s knowledge of the recent slips in Rex’s concentration. He diverts his full attention to you. There’s no need to focus on that.

“The beers here are good,” you repeat, sliding the drink menu over to him by the pads of your fingers.

Rex accepts it, glancing over the menu.

“Do you come here often?” Rex asks.

Nostalgia pulls at your heart. The first time Rex has asked you that it had seemed so accidental. “I’ve been known to spend an evening or two here.”

“So you know what’s good?”

You nod. “How hungry are you?”

Truthfully, Rex was prepared to demolish everything that had been bought for him. Pasta, salad, bread, soup. In that order, too. He thinks there was dessert ordered as well.

“Hungry,” Rex decides on.

“We can get a couple of things to share.”

There’s a crisp beer in front of Rex, along with a fresh glass of water. In front of you, your wine glass has been refilled, and you’re certainly beginning to feel it, especially as you order. Your accent slips out as you point along the menu, eventually getting to one of the dishes and glancing over at Rex.

“You don’t have any dietary anything, do you?”

Rex shakes his head.

You continue ordering.

Rex’s gaze remains fixed on your profile, the way you glance from the menu to the server and nod along with her as you order. Your earrings bobble with you, and your hair moves too. The bracelet on your wrist delicately hangs while you point, and Rex can’t help but be painfully reminded of how well his hand had fit around your wrist, how it had slid up to hold your hand, how–

The menus are cleared.

Your legs slide out to rest your ankle against the side of Rex’s leg.

“Can you tell me why you’re on Naboo again?” You inquire.

Rex takes a sip of his beer. It is good. Crisp. Refreshing. “Let me think about it.”

Another sip of beer.

Another sip of wine.

“There’s a meeting happening,” Rex says. “That’s about all I can say, though.”

“We’re kind of having our own meeting,” you note.

“Are we?”

You nod. “Just two people, sharing dinner and drinks…”

“Is that all?” Rex asks. He leans forward to join your posture.

You nod. Then, you shake your head, hand coming up to play with your necklace and the little charm on it. “Maybe not. Not later.”

Rex’s gaze dips to follow your fingers and dutifully returns to your face.

“You blowing off your friends for me?”

“I’m not blowing them off…” Rex trails off. Your lashes are longer than they were last time he saw you. “I see them everyday.”

“Am I better company?”

“You are,” Rex agrees. Breath of fresh air. “What have you been up to?”

Humming, you swirl the wine around in your glass. “Getting stood up on dates.”

Rex shakes his head. He repeats his prior point: “That’s absolutely insane to me. Who would do that?”

You gesture to the restaurant with your hand. “Our example isn’t here to defend himself. But I agree.”

The first dish appears. It’s hummus with vegetables and bread. The hummus has a swirl of olive oil and roasted red peppers in the center.

“You have to actually eat this time. None of that ‘it’s too good’ bullshit,” you say. “The olive oil here is really good, I think you’ll like it.”

You’re right, of course. It’s creamy and delicious, melting away on his tongue. A hint of lemon, a citrus unlay to the warmth of the chickpea.

“Can I try your beer?” You ask, dancing your fingers along the table towards the beverage. “You can try my wine.”

“Sure,” Rex says, pushing the drink over to you.

A sip of beer. A sip of wine.

“You reading anything right now?” you ask.

“I am, actually. It’s about this girl who tames dragons.”

You pause. That is not what you expected. “Really?”

Rex nods. He drags his finger over the table as he talks, as if to keep him on track with the plot. “The main character is named Lessa, and she’s this princess who’s entire family’s been killed, but she’s survived by disguising herself as a servant. The only thing is that the dragons in Pern, where the story takes place, speak telepathically with the members of the royal family which is how they were tamed. When I left off, a dragon had gone crazy and Lessa had exposed herself as being part of the royal family by riding it.”

You blink at him. “What happened to your books on military strategy?”

“Needed an escape,” Rex replies.

You hum softly. “What’s it called? The book.”

“Dragonflight,” Rex says, dipping a cut of pita into the hummus. “It’s good.”

“It sounds like it,” you say. “How’d you find it?”

“Uh,” Rex hesitates. “The princess of Pantora recommended it.”

You raise your eyebrows. “That’s a pretty high caliber recommendation.”

Rex chuckles at that, “Yeah… It was in passing, but I wanted to check it out.”

“I suppose you can’t tell me what you were doing in the presence of a princess?”

Rex takes a drink of beer. “Honestly, I was thinking about you.”

“About me?” You ask.

Rex nods. A faint blush flushes on his ears. You bite your bottom lip, halting the smile from forming.

“You’re sweet,” you say.

Rex disagrees. You’re the sweet one, in his eyes. Rex is simply lucky to have caught your attention so many times.

You take a bite of an olive.

“Unfortunately, I don’t have the ability to telepathically communicate with dragons.”

Rex chuckles. “I would have been more impressed if you did.”

“Already impressed?”

“Yeah.”

It’s flattering to hear. After all, you’re no more than a simple girl who looks at art all day.

“Well.” You swirl your wine around for a moment before taking a sip of it. “I’m thinking about picking up a new hobby.”

How lovely. Rex has no hobbies— unless one was to count sitting around and making battle strategies hobbies. Or if one was to consider that his excellent deflecting skills were a hobby.

“What are you thinking about?” Rex asks.

“Bird watching,” you say. “The new intern we just got is really into it, and he’s got these really amazing sketches of the birds he sees. Apparently his parents just took him on this week long hiking trip to let him see some of the birds in the jungle, which seems so… Cool. I don’t know, I’m jealous of some twenty year old for having such an in depth hobby.”

“I don’t see many birds,” Rex says. Birds don’t like war. They run from the large sounds. Scamper at the first smell of violence.

“I’ll have to show you all the sketches I do, then.”

“No pictures?”

You pause. You hadn’t even thought of that— though it was probably the best option. Fastest, too.

“I could do that,” you say.

“But drawing is different,” Rex finishes for you.

“But drawing is different,” you agree with him.

Rex takes a bite of some of the food before the two of you. “Bird watching seems cool.”

“Does it? I’ve honestly always considered it an old person hobby.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Rex reminds you. “As far as I’m concerned, bird watching is a hobby young, beautiful women pick up.”

Your laugh is mostly a giggle. There’s a flirtatious roll of your wrist as you toss your hair back over your shoulder.

“You’re good,” you say, still smiling. “Maybe tonight when you come over I’ll show you some of the books I bought. And you can see my binoculars.”

A little smile crosses Rex’s features. “It sounds like you’ve been doing more than just thinking about it.”

“Well, maybe so.” Your face is warm. “I don’t know, I’ve just been really into them lately. Maybe one day I’ll get to go to Endor and see all the birds there. I’ve been watching this docu-series about Endor’s moon and all the life there…”

There was a mission planned to go to Endor’s moon and scout it out. Despite its sanctuary status, there have been encrypted radio transmissions coming from the little blip of life.

Rex doesn’t mention that. After all, you don’t like space travel.

Then, the reason why the mission hasn’t happened yet comes to mind:

“Isn’t there a black hole by Endor?” He asks.

You hum, lifting your eyebrows. “Is there?”

“Uh, I think so.” Rex lifts his hand to rub the back of his neck for a moment. “Yeah, I think so.”

Sighing, you pluck a bite off one of the plates. “Maybe by the time I’ve conquered my fear of hyperdrive, they’ll have sorted out the black hole.” An involuntary shudder shakes down your spine. “Ugh! Those freak me out too. I don’t know how you do it… I know space travel is safe and all but it just doesn’t seem right.”

Rex admires you, as you go on your little tirade about the freak nature of space travel. You look really pretty tonight. Printed dress, hair all nice and cascading down your back. Lips still glossy. He wonders if it tastes like anything.

Your lips aren’t moving anymore. Rex blinks, drawing his attention back to your eyes. They sparkle, in the pupil and on the lid.

“Huh?” How graceful of him.

“What are you thinking about?” You ask him. “I lost you.”

The tips of Rex’s ears turn pink. He exhales. “Just, um, wondering. About your lips.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Should we leave?”

Rex glances down at the plates in front of you. You both have made good work on them, and only a few bites remain. He’s full enough.

“I think we should go,” you answer for him. You look around for your waitress, and as soon as you make eye contact she’s walking over.

Looking over at Rex, you ask: “What kind of pasta were you going to have?”

“What? Oh, um, I’m full,” Rex says.

“Are you? It’s for later,” you hum.

“I don’t need any,” Rex insists.

You don’t buy it. You order two pastas for takeaway, then ask for the bill. Turning back to Rex, you smile softly. “I’ll be hungry in a few hours. I don’t want to eat by myself.”

Rex nods.

“And you should eat too,” you tack on. “After all, I don’t want to deprive you of pasta from here.”

“You’re not depriving me of anything,” Rex assures you.

Brown bags are placed on the table and you hand over credits to the waitress without looking at the check. Rex recognizes these brown bags, they’re stamped with the same logo as the one you were holding when he saw you last.

The guilt of the secret eats him up inside, but he doesn’t say anything. That’s an ugly truth he doesn’t want to admit to you yet. One of many, one of many that he’s begun second guessing. He doesn’t need to worry you with it. He doesn’t.

You stand, then immediately take hold of your chair for balance. A little giggle slips through your lips, loosened by the alcohol and lightly covered by a hand.

Rex takes the bags and comes to your side. You exchange the chair for his arm, wrapping around his bicep.

“I didn’t think I had a lot to drink when I was sitting down… but now that I’m standing up… Oh my goodness…” You flutter your lashes up at Rex. “Help me walk home?”

“Want to do nothing more,” Rex says. You squeeze his bicep and hum, the two of you walking out of the restaurant. Immediately, a wash of humidity engulfs the two of you.

“It’s kind of a long walk home,” you say, apologizing without vocalizing it.

“That’s alright,” Rex says.

“It got gross out… It wasn’t like this when I left.” You stop in your tracks to pull a clip out of your purse, swooping it off your neck. Rex watches with rapt attention.

“It’s going to be the rainy season soon, isn’t it?” Rex asks.

You nod, reattaching yourself to Rex. “How’d you know?”

Rex shrugs. “Sometimes I know things.”

The comment causes both of you to laugh. You squeeze his bicep, rest your head on his shoulder momentarily.

On the walk home, you point out various parts of this neighborhood you occasionally drop by. Point out where Misha lives, a bakery you like, a park where you threw up after going to… that bar. Rex is an eager and willing audience for your tales.

The inside of your apartment isn’t any different from how Rex last saw it. There’s still the warmth, from all the lamps and warm colors sloshed about. It's humid, though. Sticky air. Thick air.

To you, it’s a nightmare. It's just as stale inside as it is outside. The humidity seems to have soaked into the walls. It’s bad this year. It’s been bad ever since the Trade Federation attacked, and all of the electric balls were released and the machines walked the plains.

“I have some fans,” you say, taking off your shoes. “Let me get them set up…”

You pop fans in your windows and turn them on, Rex following behind you the entire time. You turn on your dehumidifier in your bedroom, so by the time the two of you retired for the evening, the air would be somewhat dry. With the food in the fridge and cool glasses of water, you end up in your bedroom, where you look over at him in his long sleeves.

“Do you want to take that off?” You ask, already taking out your heavy earrings. You haven’t known Rex long at all, only having met him twice, but you feel like you’d known him a lifetime. To the point where you’re debating just taking off your makeup now.

Rex looks down at it, running a hand over his chest. “Uh, it’s fine. Made out of some fancy material that keeps you cool.”

Nodding, your jewelry collects in a bowl on your vanity. “I’m changing, my dress is stuck to me. So if you want to change, you can.”

You begin to reach behind you to slide down the zipper, but pause and look over at him.

“Come help,” you instruct.

Rex’s fingers are large against your delicate zipper. Slowly, he brings the metal down, revealing the strap of your bra and the expanse of your back. There’s a sheen of sweat there too, that was making the dress cling, that he has to fight to not lick off.

Rex is invited to watch as you change into cooler clothes. He sits on the ottoman at the foot of your bed, with his ankle crossed over his knee, attention raptured by you. You peel your sticky breasts off your nipples, shielding the, quite horrifying, removal from Rex by turning your back to him. He watches through the reflection in the mirror. He watches as you pull on a white tank top, and shorts, watches your nipples through the thin fabric.

It’s hot as can be. You keep your hair clipped up off your neck, and then finally turn your attention back to Rex. He straightens up as soon as he’s caught your attention again.

You smile at him, coming to stand in front of him. He spreads his legs for you to stand between them. “Watching?” You cup his jaw in your hand.

“If you don’t mind,” Rex says, tilting his head back to meet your eyes.

“I don’t mind,” you say, “It’s encouraged.”

Rex wets his bottom lip. Slowly, you lower yourself to sit on his lap. One hand snakes down to the hem of his shirt, gently lifting it up. Your hand slides under his shirt to slide across his stomach.

“What can I do to convince you to take off your shirt?” You hum.

His hand slides from your thigh to your waist, then to your lower back. “Maybe a kiss,” he admits, selfishly.

You smile, soft and glossy. Slowly, you lean in to press your lips against him. Rex is immediately engulfed by the comfort of your perfume, whole and warm, and the softness of your lips, coconut and wet. His tongue slides out, chasing after the taste of you, savoring it on his tongue.

The pull away is just as slow as the connection was. You press one last peck to his lips, leaving them glossy. Rex’s gaze holds yours. With a little smile, you reach and swipe the gloss away from Rex’s lip.

“Sorry,” you whisper.

“‘S a gift,” Rex whispers.

His flattery brings a smile to your face. Rex’s hands reach to the back of his shirt, and pulls it over his head. With his chest exposed, you run your hand across it, pleased with the new expanse.

What a lucky lady you are.

“We should have some dessert,” you say, standing up. Rex’s hands slip off your body, slow like honey.

Immediately, Rex is thinking of all the desserts he could have. It embarrasses him, turning his ears pink. Your fingers dance over, thumbing over the warm shell.

“I was thinking about gelato,” you say through a smile. “But we can have all sorts of desserts after.”

“I wasn’t–”

He’s cut off by your smile, by the way you take his hand in yours and give him a little tug, encouraging him to stand up.

“Just a little gelato first,” you murmur, standing on your toes and kiss his chin, just to satisfy your need to play house.

On the couch, you and Rex share gelato straight from the container. It’s almost empty anyways, there’s just enough for the two of you to finish off and satisfy your sweet tooth.

Suddenly excited, you remember what you had promised Rex over dinner. “Oh! Let me show you the books I got!”

Taking one more bite of gelato, you leave the spoon in the container and stand, heading back towards the kitchen for the books. They’re in a perfect little stack, by the flowers that you need to replace. You plop back down beside Rex, making sure to keep your knee touching his thigh, and pick up the first book.

“So, this one is just on birdwatching. It’s by this professor of ornithology in Coruscant. What to wear, how to position yourself downwind so you don’t frighten them. I think it’s very interesting that no matter where you really go in the galaxy, birdwatching has these stagnant parts of it that are universal, y’know?”

Rex thinks for a moment. You seem to be waiting for his response.

“It’s comforting,” Rex says. “Things are the same in some places, no matter how… No matter how strange and different it is.”

“Are there birds on your home planet?” You ask.

“Nah. Whole planet is an ocean. There are some flying fish, but… No birds. No feathers.” Rex sets the gelato on the table as you’re talking. He stretches his arm along the backside of your couch, watching as you hold each book up for him to look at. They’re real books too, printed on paper and not just on a data pad.

“Are you amphibious?”

Rex chuckles. “No.” He wants to change the topic as quickly as possible, so looking over your lap he points at the next book. “What is this one about?”

You drop the topic, placing the first book on the coffee table and picking up the second one. “This one kind of goes with the next one…” So you pick up the other and hold both of them in your hands. Tapping the first one with the second, you carry on, “This one is just about Naboo’s wildlife in general. Flora, fauna, the works. I read the part on birds, and I figure I’ll get to the rest of it later, but I’m really only interested with the birds…” You set the book down on the table.

“Actually, I’ve met the author of these books, ‘cause they’re written by the same professor. Thandor Kryn. We were at this– You know what, it’s not important,” you brush that off. “Anyways, he wrote a book just on birds and I picked it up. It’s really interesting, because he has all these parts of the book that basically come to life. Technology scares me but this is just cool…”

Opening up the book, it illuminates into a hologram. You flip through, and are able to select certain parts that have bird calls in them, along with directions on how to recreate them yourself.

“It makes me a little sad that I couldn’t get a paper copy of the book, but I get why.” You shut the book and set it on the table. Selecting the last one, you adjust yourself on the couch. “This one is my favorite. So before I read this book, I had never heard of Endor, right? But then I read this book… And oh my goodness, hearing about all the birds and everything was mind blowing. Like there are so many kinds, and look, look at these pages.”

You open the book and show off the glossy pages and the full color images.

“This is my favorite bird out of the book,” you say, pointing at one. Already, the book is creased to fall open at this page. Your focus is on the little image. “This is called the humming peeper. They’re found in little families and come out during the afternoon, and are often found to put people to sleep. They’re more like trickster spirits, right? Coming out and putting people to sleep and leaving them vulnerable. But they’re also known to take away nightmares and give good nights of sleep to those that feed them and take care of them. Anyways, this author has other books that are about Endor as a whole, and I went ahead and bought the digital copies. Which aren’t as great, because I don’t want to be taking my reader into the bathtub or anything, but it’s fine. It’ll get the job done.”

“This is pretty cool,” Rex says, looking from the pages to you. “You said you got binoculars?”

“Oh! I did,” you stand, and a pang of regret shoots through Rex that you’re no longer sitting beside him. You pluck a container from your bookshelf and bring it over, showing it to him. “Binoculars.”

Opening up the container, Rex is met with a pair of binoculars he’s relatively experienced with. There’s a similar model in his helmet. The generals have some like this.

“These are nice,” Rex says, a little surprised.

“I might have gone overboard buying them,” you say, twirling a strand of hair around your finger.

“You know how to use them?” He asks.

“I read the manual,” you say. “Why, are you offering to teach me?”

Rex smiles softly. “Maybe. Would you take me up on it?”

“Of course. I’d be a fool not to.”

Rex sets the binoculars on the table and extends his arm along the back of the couch again. You pull your knees up to your chest and rest your head against his forearm.

“Maybe when the war is done, you can come birdwatching with me.”

Rex swallows. He doesn’t think the war will be done in his lifetime. Struck down by battle or not.

He doesn’t mention this. Instead, he smiles softly at you. “Maybe.”

“I think it would be fun,” you say, all gentle through your lashes. “You deserve a little fun.”

“I’m having fun right now,” Rex says. He adjusts so one of his legs is bent on the couch and he’s fully facing you.

“Yeah?”

Rex nods. He holds your gaze in such a way it makes you warm under the lack of scrutiny. He’s truly gazing, brown eyes like melted amber, like dark maple syrup in the sunlight.

“Do you get scared?” You ask suddenly. Quietly.

Rex blinks at the abruptness of the question. “What?”

“Like… you must see so much violence. Do you get scared?”

Rex is quiet for a moment. He drops his gaze down to his lap for a moment before back to you. “Yeah. But not in the moment… It’s after. When I’m processing everything. Like that first moment of quiet.”

You nod. “I don’t know why I asked that, that’s so personal. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Rex says.

You bring your hand up to rest your hand on his forearm, right in front of your face by Rex’s elbow. “I just have so many questions.”

“Really?” Normally no one has questions for him. For any clone.

“Yeah,” you say. You rub your hand up to his bicep before back down. You look from your hand back to him. “What do you do for fun?”

“Like during downtime?”

You nod.

Rex has to think for a moment. “I like watching documentaries by myself.”

“What kinds?”

“Nature… It feels nice while in space. ‘Cause it’s so quiet.”

“I think it’s human to want to be around nature,” you comment. “You think we’ve watched the same ones?”

“Maybe.” There are many people on many planets who would argue that he’s not human. That he’s nothing more than a droid– no, nothing more than an eopie to slaughter.

“I bet you have access to so many through the military,” you say, a little wistful. “Do you have any on Endor?”

“I’m sure there’s some,” Rex says. “If they exist, I’ve never watched them. I’ll look the next time I have downtime, though.”

“You could call me too,” you tack on, a little girlish and wanting, hand resting on his thigh. Your thumb smooths over the fabric of his pants. “But there’s not much point in you calling me if you’re always running into me, is there?”

You meet Rex’s gaze through your lashes. Immediately, you break into a smile.

“I still have your frequency,” Rex says. He thinks about it, thinks about calling you when he’s supposed to be asleep, when the cycle of the ship is set to night. When he’s about to start watching a documentary and wants to see if you’re available to watch it at the same time with him. To have someone to come home to, just like in the movies.

“Do you?”

Rex nods. “Yeah.”

You smile. Your hand rests on his bicep again, long over the muscle. “Will you flex for me?”

There's a chuckle that Rex can’t help. “You have to lift your head up.”

The breath you take rises your back with its weight, as you wrestle with this. Eventually, you pick your head up. Rex curls his arm back, and the muscle in question rises, eliciting a giggle from you.

“I want to go into my bedroom,” you admit, hand tracing further up Rex’s body. You lean into his space as your hand travels, eventually resting on the back of his neck. You look from his lips to his eyes. “If that’s okay with you.”

It’s okay with him.

Your ceiling fan is on high. The windows are wide open, and one of your fans from the living room had been brought in, by Rex this time, and set up in a window. Naboo moves outside, nocturnal birds fly about, the ocean sloshes.

Sitting across Rex’s stomach, both of you are now shirtless. Your breasts press against his skin, the connection warm and needed. There’s a faint bulge you can feel through his boxers, pressing up against your ass, as you straddle his stomach. One hand rests on his pec, the other trails up to his face, dusting over where his eyebrow is stitched together.

“What happened to you?” You ask.

“Do you really want to know?” Rex asks.

You nod.

“Took the butt of a blaster to the face.”

You pout. Then, you lean in to press a featherlight kiss against it. Rex’s hand slides up the flat of your back, holding you close. His lips attach to the top of your breast, letting his lips lave over the flatness there.

“I’m sorry you got hurt,” you murmur, voice right above his ear.

“It’s okay,” Rex murmurs into your softness. “I’ve had worse.”

You brace your hands around his head. “Really? Will you show me?”

Rex swallows. His voice is a murmur. “Are you sure you wanna see?”

You nod. You’re not quite sure you do, as the horrors that exist beyond your little atmosphere terrify you to know end. But Rex’s chest shudders with his inhale, and you succumb to the vulnerability untying before you.

“I don’t have a lot… blaster shots cauterize on impact. And the bacta tanks heal you right up.”

Truly, Rex doesn’t want you to stop pressing your breasts against him. They’re soft. But you sit back upright and wait for him.

“I got shot here by a commando droid,” Rex says, fingers tracing a barely there scar on the center of his chest.

Your breath is shaky. “Do I want to know what that is?”

“No,” Rex says.

You press a kiss to the once-injured space. “But you’re okay now.”

“Was taken good care of,” Rex murmurs. For a brief moment, he’s in his imagination and you’re sitting at a handmade wooden table, he’s worked the fields all day, and there are two little children in the distance. He can’t see them, but he can hear them.

Shaking the wish from his mind, Rex continues to show you the faint map of his scars. There’s a now-knick on his side from when he was a cadet, that was once upon a time far more severe. A divot on his forearm from a barbed wire pulled taunt around him. He spares you the details.

You become distracted, however, by a collection of moles on his ribcage. Sliding your thumb over them, you lower yourself down to place a kiss on them. When you rise, you’re smiling wide.

“Y’know, they say moles are angel kisses,” you say.

“Y’must’ve left them last time,” Rex says.

You giggle, bringing a hand to cover your mouth. “Stop it. You’re being too sweet on me.”

“You’re gonna tell me to stop tellin’ the truth?” Rex asks, sitting up fully. His movements bring you to sink onto his lap. The warmth of his bulge presses against your core through your shorts.

“No…” you drag out, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Rex takes a deep breath as his hands press up your back, pulling you closer. He wants to remember how soft you smell, how you smell round and whole. For when he’s deep in the pits of hell.

Your lips are soft against his. Rex hesitates, unable to process for a second that you’re kissing him. But his brain catches up, his lips slide alongside your own.

When you pull away, your lips are parted and your eyes are watery.

“I’m sorry,” you say, smiling out of embarrassment. “It’s a waxing moon, I’m about to get my period.”

Rex furrows his brows. He has no idea what any of that means. “Are you okay?” He asks, bringing his hands to your face.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m okay,” you say, hand going to wrap around his wrist. You lean into his touch. “I was just thinking about how soft you are and… You’re so gentle but you have to be surrounded by so much violence.”

What a lie he must be weaving, for you to think he’s gentle.

At his silence, you sniffle just like you had that day by the water. You wipe under your eyes.

“We can keep kissing,” you say.

“Are you sure?” Rex asks.

You nod. Your swallow is thick. Rex reattaches his lips to yours, slow and gentle. Just as you have painted him into your memories.

Rex lays you down. You’re guided onto your pillows, nested atop your duvet. You’d made your bed so well, expecting it to get messed up. You’d expected to have your hair pulled, to have your ass up, to be rammed into and love every minute of it.

But instead, Rex is over you. He’s still kissing you, letting your tongues slide against each other. Letting your lips open and close gently against each other. Your hand slides down his chest before back over it, then trails over his shoulder that’s working to keep him above you. It’s hard and defined under your touch.

You hook a leg around his waist, trying to pull him closer. To feel him press against you.

Rex grinds against you in a fluid, rolling motion. His boxers are tight against him, and made of a thin, breathable material that allows you to feel the warmth pool from him. He’s on his forearm, and as he rolls against you his chest brushes against your nipples.

It’s electric. Your fingernails scratch against Rex’s head, feeling the fuzz of his buzzcut beneath your palms. Arching your back, you press yourself further into him.

While he seems more than content to just keep kissing you, as his hands stay off of your body, you are not. You run your hands over his chest, over his nipples, down his front. Glide over his abs, he has abs, your fingers dip under the elastic of his boxers.

Rex’s breath hitches and he bucks against you.

He pulls away to apologize, but you’re already smiling at him, glowing at the reaction. He loses his voice.

Your hands fall away from his boxers to instead touch yourself. There’s a patch of wetness at the base of your underwear, and you tap against it to feel it.

Rex should feel this.

You look from his lips to his eyes. Unilluminated, they’re this warm brown that you could get lost in.

“You should feel me,” you whisper to him.

Rex swallows. You nod at him.

“You might want to taste, too.”

Oh. Rex slides down your body. He leaves a kiss to your sternum, then glances over at your breast before up at you. A please in his eyes.

“You don’t need to ask,” you murmur.

Rex’s eyes flutter shut as he bows his head, lips pressing a line of adoration to your breast. To your nipple. His tongue flattens over the peak, wetting it and warming it, before his mouth closes around the bud.

He could stay here for hours, swirling his tongue and flicking it and sucking. The movements feel good, bordering on a preview for your aching clit. You bite your lip and shift slightly below him.

His other hand reaches up to grope your other breast. As his calluses smooth over the soft skin, you let out a pleased sigh. He thinks your breasts feel softer, heavier, plump. Why would he ever want to stop touching?

He switches sides, and those calluses feel electric over the spit sheened nipple. Your hand comes up to rest on his wrist, tan and large.

Rex pauses his ministrations and looks up at you. You look down at him. Your hand creeps up and flattens over Rex’s, using his fingers to grope your breast.

The two of you hold each other’s gaze.

“Why’d you stop?” You ask softly.

“Thought you wanted me to,” Rex replies. “I didn’t want to keep doing something you weren’t comfortable with.”

Your eyes soften, then you lean your head back against the pillows.

“You can’t say things like that,” you say, looking up at the ceiling.

“What’s wrong with it?” He slowly rises up your body.

“You’re being too considerate.” You don’t meet Rex’s gaze. Instead, your eyes remain trained on the ceiling, as if the white plaster is going to be cool enough to quell certain, stoking fires within you.

Rex’s brows furrow. Considerate is a good thing, isn’t it? He reaches for your face, cupping your jaw and, without speaking, asking you to meet his eyes.

You meet his confused gaze. Jolie always talks about this wild, crazed sex she has with clones. Battle adrenaline. It courses through them and leaves her in full nelsons that she talks about too loud at meals.

With a sigh, you wrap your hand around his wrist, pressing your cheek into his palm. You should take considerate sex when it’s offered to you. Who knows, you might even classify tonight as making love.

“Don’t listen to me. I’m just being silly,” and self conscious.

“You’re…” Rex searches for the right word. “More… you’re in your head tonight.”

The stakes are less here, in your linen covered bed, than they are on the battlefield, where in your head could cost you everything. Has cost good men everything.

You’re quiet again. You look down at Rex’s chest, letting your hand rub up and down his arm. It’s so nice, toned and firm beneath your touch.

“I’m… I’m really glad you’re here, okay?” How silly, to be this attached. How silly…

“I’m really glad to be here.”

You flutter your gaze at Rex for a moment before dropping it.

“I feel…” you take a heavy breath, a heavy swallow, “My ego is really bruised from being stood up tonight.” Shame courses through your body. You’re not only admitting this, you’re admitting it to a man who looks ready to feast on you.

Rex doesn’t exactly know how to respond. But he can imagine this must not happen to you often. And you seem genuinely uncomfortable by the experience.

“Let me help you forget about it,” Rex murmurs. Let me make you comfortable. “You deserve to have a good night.”

When you meet his gaze, it’s gentle. You swallow.

“Yeah?” Rex asks softly. Barely a whisper, barely audible over the fans.

You nod.

“Let me hear you.”

You bite your bottom lip for a moment. Then: “Yeah.”

Rex nods. He presses a swift kiss to your lips— He doesn’t want to get lost there, as he’s learned he’s prone to do.

Instead, he settles between your knees and slides your underwear down with careful precision. You’re not shaven, as a neat trim of hair engulfs your mound.

Dipping down, Rex’s hand settles on your thigh. He presses a kiss to the inner part, soft and delicate. Traces a line of his kisses to your core, where he slowly parts your folds and takes a moment to admire.

He presses a kiss to your labia that has your breath hitching before he’s pulling back.

“Pass me a pillow, sweetheart.”

Your stomach flips. It’s a good thing he’s not still looking at the most inner parts of you, because you feel yourself tingle and drool at the pet name.

Reaching to the other side of the bed, you pull out a fluffy pillow from the back, and hand it over to Rex. Already, you’re lifting your hips for him to slide the support beneath.

Rex spreads your legs again as he sinks back down between them. His tongue is flat as it slips through your folds, reacquainting himself with your taste. As if he ever forgot it.

Heady sighs leaves your lips, mixing with the hum of the fan and Rex’s lips against yours, slick with yourself. His fingers join his tongue, wetting themselves in the fusion of his saliva and your essence.

To make room for his fingers, Rex dedicates his mouth to your clit. He sucks and swirls and sighs into you, as his middle finger makes its way through your silk and inside.

A breathy moan leaves your lips as Rex’s exploration turns to rhythm. As one finger becomes two, as the digits not buried inside you press against your skin.

“Uhn,” escapes from the back of your throat. Rex has gone a little more crooked, insinuating how important it was that you come here with his fingers. “Right there, feels so good… Rex…”

Each word is a breath, warbling with pleasure. Music to Rex’s ears. The way you say his name is like electricity, shooting through his veins and straight to his cock, which strains against the compression boxers he wears.

The leg over his shoulder starts to shake. Rex reaches up for your breast, thumb sliding over your pebbled nipple. Your hand reaches for his head, scratching through the closely shorn stubble.

Your hand leaves him, instead fisting in the pillow beside you. Head turning, your hips move on their own as a warmth coils within you. Rex doesn’t stop. A moan from his lips reverberates through you and you moan in turn.

A plea for Rex to not stop leaves your lips. There’s vibration on your clit, as if he was responding to you. It’s enough to topple you over, come slipping out of you, warm like lava.

Rex slides his fingers out of you, only to replace them with his tongue. He laps up everything, leaving no part of your spread pussy unloved.

Your chest is heaving. Rex sits back on his calves, glistening fingers in his mouth. Catching sight of this, you feel your hole twitch.

His boxers are tight. Reaching between his thighs, Rex adjusts himself. The stimulation only makes things worse. He takes a shaky breath.

“Take them off,” you say, watching his hand over the outline of his cock with lidded eyes. You rub your hand down your body, over the inside of your thigh.

Rex’s eyes follow your hand before he meets your gaze.

“Please,” you tack on.

Rex slides off the bed, standing to the side as he takes off his boxers. His cock immediately bounces, free from the confines.

You sit up, legs curled to the side, and Rex comes to stand before you. He’s right below your chin. Your movement to kiss the pretty mushroom tip is stopped when you’re kilometers away. Just your breath on his erection causes a little dribble of precome to escape.

“You’re gonna make me come,” Rex mumbles.

You smile up at him. “Isn’t that the point?”

His ears go pink. Adorable. “No… feeling good is.”

“Does coming not feel good?”

Rex’s Adam's apple bobs as his cock twitches. It does feel good. But he thinks about the load that spilled down the shower drain. About how if he was to come right now it would be on you, not in you. Wasted.

You’re waiting for a response. Rex quickly nods.

“It does, but, I want, uh, I want—”

“Inside?” You ask, tilting your head.

Rex nods. Humming, you reach around him to open up your nightstand. Rex watches, eyes widening slightly at the contents. Not only are there condoms (he tries to ignore that you have varying sizes), there are silicone toys, some shaped like roses, others like butterflies, and one like a cock. Warmth churns in his stomach, along with something a little colder, a little more greedy. Jealousy.

You shut the drawer and Rex’s attention snaps back to you. Opening up the condom, you line it up at his tip and begin slowly sliding it down.

“I swallow, you know,” you say, off handedly, as if talking about the weather. “So it would still be inside.”

Precome leaks from his tip into the latex free sheath.

You look up at Rex. “But I know what you mean. You sit on the bed, I’m going to grab a towel.”

“I can grab it,” Rex says quickly. “They’re in the closet?”

The comment pangs you in a weird way you can’t place. As if instead of butterflies in your stomach, there are dragonflies.

“Yeah, they’re in the closet.”

You take a deep breath. Grab lube out of your nightstand.

Rex returns with a towel and hands it off to you, where you lay it over the pillow and bedding. You drop the little bottle next to the pillow.

Taking Rex’s hand in yours, you pull him close and down for a kiss. Gently, Rex urges you to lay back and let him crawl over you. His cock slides against your stomach and you wish he wasn’t wrapped, wish you could feel the leakiness across your stomach.

The two of you settle back, you haloed by your hair and the softened of your pillows, Rex between your thighs, rubbing on the smooth skin.

“Use the lube,” you say, shuffling around so your shoulders aren’t all scrunched up by your ears.

“Huh?”

“The lube.”

Rex looks at the little bottle beside your hip. He picks it up, examining it. Opening the cap, he squeezes some onto his fingers, then carefully applies it to his cock. Carefully, because he’s terrified of coming quickly.

“Wipe your hand on the towel,” you instruct, watching him with rapt attention. Rex does as you say.

His cock slides from your clit to hole, then back again, repeating the motion a few times to leave you wet and wanting. On the fourth pass, right before you want to tell him to put it in, the head catches on your hole. Rex places his hands by your waist, and slowly slides in.

You’re relaxed, walls opening up for him and gripping onto him all at the same time. A quiet moan escapes Rex’s lips as he inches his way in, brows pinched in concentration. Concentration on the velvet of your insides, of the way your legs wrap around his waist, of how slick everything feels. Of not instantly cumming and ruining the moment.

“Feels good?” You ask, a bit breathless. The stretch is so good you think you creamed just a bit.

Rex nods, just as breathless. Eyes focused on where you’re conjoined. Your fingers trail over the shell of his ear.

Slowly, he begins thrusting his hips in and out. He lifts his head, watching as your face contorts in pleasure. As your brows furrow then pinch. As you bite your bottom lip, eyes fluttering shut.

When you open them, he gets lost in the warmth of your eyes.

You hold eye contact, gasping and bodies moving together, until Rex dips his head and presses his lips against yours. Mouths open, tongues sliding against each other. His hips stutter and stumble, collapsing themselves to a grind.

You don't mind. You’re not going to come like this, but as Rex said, it’s just about feeling good. And this feels good. You feel sedated like this, reduced to nothing but a glowing ball of pleasure.

Rex pulls away with reluctance. He swallows, bends down to press one more kiss to your lips, then pulls back, sitting up on his knees. His thrusts stop for a moment, as he readjusts and throws your legs over his shoulder instead. He leans back over and resumes the steady thrusts.

A moan leaves your lips, as you feel him working his way inside you, all slippery. Wrapped in a silken sheen. Your hands fist in your pillow.

One of Rex’s hands reaches for one of yours, unfurling it from your grasp on the pillows. Instead, his hand slides into yours, and you grip onto the interlock.

The pace Rex is moving at is languid and deep, savoring every second of it. When he pulls back is until the head of his cock is about to leave your hole before it slides back in. It’s relaxing, it’s meditative— only instead of focusing on your breath you’re focused on the twitching hardness inside of you.

And Rex is twitching. As if it’s taking every modicum of self restraint to not come. Yes, his thrusts are languid and deep but his cock is twitching at a concerning rate.

“Are you going to come?” You ask Rex.

He shakes his head resolutely. You smile.

“You can, you know. You can come right now.”

Rex shakes his head again. “Want to come with you.”

Romantic. “You’ll have to speed up a little bit.”

Rex swallows, as if steeling himself. He slowly sits back up on his knees, and increases the pace, watching your face for approval.

“Little bit more,” you say, breathless.

Rex goes a bit faster, and it has your breasts bouncing. Rex wets his lips.

“Does that feel good?” He asks, voice strained.

You nod. “Feels so good. C’mere.”

Rex descends, as your hand slips between the two of you to circle your clit. You imagine there being a vibrator there, imagine Rex’s sensitive reaction to the vibration. Maybe next time, maybe when he wasn’t so sensitive, so obviously pent up.

Hopefully there will be a next time.

Rex’s hand is in yours again, his head ducked by your ear. You can hear every breathy grunt that escapes him. A moan leaves your lips, as Rex’s cock finally finds the right and perfect place inside you.

His ears pick up, just as your moans do. There’s a delicious stretch in your thighs, as Rex has you bent in half.

You know you’re done for when your fingers become stuck on your clit, unable to move in the little rhythm you had set. Your thighs shake, toes curling as you tilt your head back. Instead of your clit, you reach to toy with your nipple.

“‘M close,” you murmur, lost on a moan.

Rex mumbles something in your ear that you can’t make out. It doesn’t sound like Common.

You’re so close. Irritatingly so. You reach back for your clit, desperately searching for the peak—

You come with a moan that rises in pitch, sounding almost pathetic. As your walls flex around Rex’s cock he practically drills into you with staccato movements. Once. Twice. Thrice. And then he’s spilling inside you, all caught into the condom. His cock twitches. His hips weakly shudder in an uneven rock.

You rub his sweat-sheen back. Press a kiss to where his shoulder and pec join together. He smells delightful, all musky and sweaty.

There’s a little whimper that you almost miss, as your walls pulse around him. He can’t help it.

Rex swallows and pulls back. It’s uncomfortable inside the condom, but he wants to stay inside you. He wants to fall asleep nestled in your warmth. Wake up still there and able to continue where the night left off.

But he pulls out, leaving you shiny. He stares at the come and lube on the condom, then what's left on your pussy.

You run a hand through your hair, watching as Rex peels off the condom carefully and ties it off. It’s more attractive than any guy you’ve seen do it before.

“Wanna shower?” You ask.

Rex looks over from where he’s holding the used condom. He doesn’t know if he’s going to be able to act cool, calm and collected in the shower. Not after everything he’s done.

“We can shower,” Rex says.

You nod, but make no move to get up. Rex throws the condom away and comes back to your side, the bed dipping under his weight.

“Move over a little,” he murmurs, sliding against you.

You don’t. Instead, you curl up against him, head on his chest. Leg wrapped around his own.

“I can still feel you inside me,” you murmur against his chest. Rex wraps an arm around your shoulders to keep you close.

“What’s it feel like?” Rex asks, genuinely curious.

You hum, eyes shut. “Like a good stretch in the morning.” You open your eyes slowly, tilting your head back to look up at Rex. He’s all glowy in the lamplight. Your hand smooths over his chest.

There’s a little warmth stirring inside of you. You could easily go another round. Maybe in the shower…

“I want more,” you admit, quietly, not looking up at Rex. Normally you demand and demand and demand, but this time… you don’t want to scare him off. Don’t want him to see you as some deranged, insatiable sex freak.

Even if everytime you see him the two of you have sex.

“Sex?” Rex asks.

“Yeah…” your hand slides down his stomach, resting at his pelvis. His cock is flaccid, but stirs slightly at the suggestion.

Rex chuckles. It reverberates through his chest to your ear. Delightfully to your ear.

He presses a kiss to the top of your head that is far too sweet for a hookup. He rolls you over onto your back, and you go easily, smiling as you hold onto him by the sides of his jaw.

Rex’s lips are on yours. Only this time, you have the delightful sensation of his cock pressed directly against your cunt. You feel as he hardens, feel as he stirs back to life. Feel as Rex has to shift himself, when his cock becomes too hard that he has to shift it so it’s upwards, laying hot against your clit.

It almost makes you want to turn your back on your condom rule. Your safe sex rule.

But no. Instead you grind against his cock, all wet. Can feel as he grinds forwards, as his cock slides through your folds and his balls rub against you. The two of you moan and gasp into each other’s mouths.

Rex is terrified. This feels addicting. Precome smears across your tummy.

You open your eyes. You shimmy under Rex, not wanting him to pull back quite yet, as you grab a condom from your nightstand and hand it to him. It’s routine at this point. Rex wraps himself. He pulls your hips back to meet at the pillow. Sinks in slow, biding his time. Watching your face.

You almost want to suggest something, suggest that he takes you from behind while you’re ass up. But there’s something about the way that he’s watching your face, watching as it relaxes into pleasure, that refrains you from doing it.

Everything is unhurried here. Rex’s hand is in yours, you’re folded to the point where your hips are far off the pillow, knees close to your face. But it feels good. Rex might as well be in your throat.

You wonder, briefly, if Rex would eat his come out of you. An involuntary moan leaves your lips as your body shudders in delight at the thought.

Rex breathes out a moan that is not in Common, just as you had heard before. His hips speed up slightly. Your hand sinks down to your clit once more, gingerly touching the sensitive bud.

At the touch, your walls shudder around Rex. He gasps.

“Kiss me,” you breathe to him. Rex lifts his head up, breath ghosting over your face. A punched out moan leaves your lips as his hips move back and forth, creating a delicious pulse within you.

Rex doesn’t second guess the order. His lips are on yours, swallowing up every moan. You bite his bottom lip, just a little nibble. Then your tongue is back against his, just for a moment. Not for long, because you’re both moaning into each other's mouths.

It’s not even lewd. It’s as if you’re conjoined, body and mind. Coming is like riding a wave. Your hips roll into Rex’s in time with his own movements. The motions continue even after both of you have come, as you’re coming off the high.

Sedated and blissful to the world, you don’t let Rex pull out yet. Instead, you keep your legs around him, clamping down on his cock.

It feels good. He’s heavy above you. Heavy inside you. You’re thinking about him creaming inside you.

That’s when you know it’s time to let him up. You blow him a little, lazy kiss as he pulls out.

The condom is in the trashcan and Rex is back in your bed in moments. He’s learning.

Your head is immediately on his chest. Rex rubs his hand down your back. His heartbeat is quick in your ear. You stay quiet to listen.

It almost lulls you to sleep.

But Rex hasn’t stopped thinking about the shower. He lets you have your moments of rest and comfort before he’s kissing the top of your head and coaxing you to open your pretty eyes.

“Hm?” You slowly open your eyes, met with the curve of Rex’s jawline. Still floating, you reach up to press a kiss there. Then another. Then another. Each one is slipping down his neck.

It causes Rex to pause before he asks. The little kisses feel good. He wouldn’t be surprised if he had a trail of little moles along his neck.

“Want to take that shower?” Rex asks softly. His voice reverberates through your lips.

You nod. Slowly, you sit up and back on your knees, eyes swirling down Rex’s body. Then, you become cognizant of the lube on your inner thighs and it ruins any thought going through your brain.

Slipping off the bed, you head into the bathroom. Rex follows behind.

“How do you like your showers?” You ask him, getting towels out.

“Hot,” Rex says.

You nod, fiddling with the water temperature.

“Can you wait outside while I clean my pussy?” You ask. “It’s not very attractive.”

Rex doesn’t care. But he nods, throwing in a little ‘no problem’ as he leaves.

Alone in the bathroom, you take a deep breath. Being around Rex is making you think crazy, making you not think straight.

What were your friends going to say? You imagine their reaction to your confessions about your innermost thoughts while you piss. Contemplate what you were even going to tell them while removing your makeup. You clean away the lube in the warm shower.

Your hair is getting wet. You curse your lack of attention, but the damage has been done.

“Rex!” You call, summoning him into the bathroom.

He enters, closing the door behind him. Coming to the shower, he momentarily forgets what he’s there for, as his eyes trail all over you, following the rivulets of water down your body.

“C’mere,” you say. “Let me know if it’s hot enough.”

Rex steps in. The water’s warm, but it’s not scalding hot.

“It’s good,” Rex says, eyes struggling to stay on your face.

You hum, squirting soap out onto a washcloth. You lather it up, before beginning to clean your arm.

“Let me,” Rex says, selfish.

Looking up at him, you hesitate. Only because this feels like you’re playing house. Only because you’ll miss him when he’s gone.

You’ll miss him when he’s gone.

“Sure,” you say, handing off the washcloth to Rex.

It smells so good, like coconut and vanilla. It’s potent here, more so than it is when he’s receiving it secondhand through your skin. Diligently, Rex gets the lather all over your body. Through the fabric, he can feel your heart pounding away. He watches with rapt attention as it all washes away.

“Let me do you,” you say, repeating the same steps. Lathering up a washcloth, dragging it over the planes of his body.

He’s broad. You lather him up in your soap before maneuvering him under the spray. Your hands follow the cascades of water, ensuring all the soap is off his body.

“I’m gonna blast myself with cold water,” you warn him, “If you want to get out.”

“Why would you do that?” Rex asks. If you’re still turned on, Rex will gladly do whatever you want him to do.

“I want to close up all my pores that the hot water opened up,” you explain.

“What?”

“It’s good for your skin,” you summarize. “There’s a towel for you on the counter.”

Rex excuses himself from the shower to rub himself dry. The cold water is a rush out of the shower head and seems to gust over Rex.

But the water is off in a few moments and you’re stepping out, grabbing your towel off the hook and drying your hair.

“Are you hungry?” You ask him.

“I could eat,” Rex says.

Nodding, you pat yourself dry and throw on some moisturizer to your body. You don panties, then look over your shoulder at Rex.

“I have some sweatpants one of my guy friends left here, if you want to wear those,” you offer, already pulling open the drawer where they are. Truthfully, you nabbed these for being so comfortable.

“That would be nice,” Rex says. Better than putting on his blacks.

You pass over the sweatpants, then pull on an oversized sleep shirt. This one’s a silky, dark red button up from a lingerie store you spent too much money on.

Rex is sitting back at your breakfast table. He looks at the time on your oven, 11:58, before back to you. You’re placing the pasta you had ordered earlier on plates, then putting them one at a time in the microwave.

Rex gets his plate placed in front of him with a fork and spoon, before you put yours in the microwave. He doesn’t eat yet.

“You can start,” you say through a yawn.

“I’m waiting for you,” Rex says.

You rest your cheek in the palm of your hand, looking at the rotating food with an air of forlornness. “You have to stop being so considerate and nice,” you say, “You’re going to make me think you really care about me.”

You leave your post by the microwave to fill up two glasses of water, setting them on the table.

Rex watches you with a bit of disbelief. “Why would I not really care about you?”

You shrug. The microwave dings. You sit across from Rex with a plate of steaming food.

“I don’t know. I don’t see you too often.”

Rex watches as you start to eat. “I think about you all the time.”

You swallow your food, and swallow a wave of emotion along with it.

“Do you?”

“Yeah.”

Your throat feels constricted by emotion. Not wanting to unpack that, after already getting choked up and teary eyed early, you tell Rex: “Eat your food.”

Rex does as he’s told. It’s quiet at the table. The weight of something lingers in the air. Emotional weight. It stretches between the two of you. It only hurts because it’s unspoken, hurts like a too-tight hug in a port.

It’s when the two of you are laid in your bed, under the sheet since it’s too hot for the duvet, that you pick up your pasta conversation.

Both you and Rex are on your backs, staring up at the ceiling. He doesn’t want to overstep his boundaries, despite desperately wanting to pull you close. You don’t want to curl up next to him, terrified of how your heart will react.

“I think about you all the time, too,” you whisper into the darkness.

Rex turns his head to look in your direction. All the genetic modification, and the Kamanoans didn’t give him night vision. There’s little light from outside to illuminate you. Faintly, he can make out your silhouette in the shadows.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“C’mere,” Rex says, patting his chest.

You follow the sound, rolling until you’re laying tucked up against him. One of his hands secures around your back, the other slides from your bicep, following your arm up to where your hand is on his chest. His thumb slides under your palm, lifting it off his chest enough for him to take hold, bringing your knuckles up to his lips.

“I’ll make you a nice cup of coffee in the morning,” you murmur.

“I look forward to it,” Rex says softly.

You fall asleep with his hand rubbing up and down your back. It’s dangerous. You don’t know if you’ll fall asleep the same way again.

Morning rears his head far too early. The birds are chirping outside your window, dancing in the air above the streets. You’re facing your window, which you squint at. The tendrils of your dream slip away. Whatever had visited you during the night had been calm and warm.

There’s an arm around your waist. Rex. Your hand runs over his arm, which tightens around you. Rex presses his nose further into your skin.

There’s a familiar, sexed ache to your body. Rolling over, you come face to face with Rex, your eyes barely open and his fully awake.

“Good morning,” you mumble.

“Good morning,” Rex returns. There’s only a hint of gravel in his voice.

“How did you sleep?”

“Good.” He always sleeps his best here. “What about you?”

“Good.” You sleep your best when Rex is in bed with you, you think. Your hand comes to rest on his jaw, eyes slipping open and shut slowly. Sleepily. He has a little scratch of stubble. “How long have you been up?”

“Since the birds started outside,” Rex murmurs.

That’s early. “You should have woken me up.”

“You were sleeping,” Rex says, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. As if it was the only thing that made sense. But he says it so earnestly, so softly, that it tugs at your heart.

“Stay for longer,” you whisper, eyes fluttering open to meet his. “I can get you a nice job working as a dossier.”

“I can’t,” Rex says, though the idea is tempting. He doesn’t mention the Republic. “I don’t even know what a dossier is.”

You smile. “They help people at art museums.”

“I don’t know anything about art.”

“I could teach you.”

Waking up in your bed is tempting. But Rex shakes his head with a small, melancholic smile. He looks at your lips when he speaks. “You know I can’t do that.”

“I know,” you sigh. Maybe in another life. Maybe after the war— you cut yourself off. He’s a fling. A fun little hookup. An intergalactic piece. “Let me make you coffee.”

Ignoring the fact that you don’t make any of your other ‘pieces’ coffee in the morning, you busy yourself with summoning the energy to get out of bed. It’s harder than it appears, as your body seems to move on her own accord and tangle your legs with Rex’s.

He’s more than content to lay here, sunlight streaming over both of your bodies, while you wrestle with the conscious world.

Back at your breakfast table, as you brew the coffee, you notice that Rex sits with his legs sprawled out, taking up a good chunk of space. One arm is slung over the back of the breakfast chair, watching you intently. Softly.

“I’m going to work today early,” you say, just to make conversation. “It’s been all hands on deck, ever since this collection of paintings were stolen in the middle of the night. I don’t know what they expect me to do about it, but it’s causing me to work much longer than I need to.”

You set a mug of hot, black coffee in front of Rex, and receive a soft thank you as your fingers brush against each other with the passing of the mug.

When you sit, you pull your knee up to your chest, taking a sip of your milky drink.

“A painting was stolen?” Rex asks. He takes a sip of his coffee. It’s fresh and bitter.

“Whole collection. Gone in the blink of an eye. Well, overnight. But you know… I’m not a private investigator. So I’ve just been sitting at my desk for longer periods of time. As if the painting is going to magically appear.” You let out a long sigh. “But I shouldn’t complain.”

“And you’re just waiting for them to be returned? Or found?”

“Pretty much. But it’s giving me a good chance to catch up on some books. About art and art history and techniques. Have to keep my mind sharp somehow.” You sigh again. “Where are you off to?”

“No idea,” Rex admits. “Wherever I’m told to go.”

“And I can’t sway you to go back to my bedroom?”

Rex chuckles. “No, unfortunately.”

You sigh, this time a bit foolish. You know Rex can’t stay. “What do I have to do to get you to call me? To text me?”

“Uh… I need to get special clearance to make personal calls,” Rex says.

“Do I need to write a letter begging them to let you call me?”

“I, uh,” Rex’s chuckle is nervous. Partly because such a big favor seems out of the water for him, partly because it makes his heart race when you’re so adamant about wanting to hear from him. “I don’t know how that would work.”

“Well, I’m willing to,” you say. Taking one more sip of your coffee, you stand, opening up the bread box on your counter. You pull out a brown paper bag, pulling out an almond croissant and a muffin you didn’t eat yesterday. You cut each in half, then place them on plates.

Rex stands up while you fix breakfast together, moving your chair from across to beside him. When you come to bring the plates over, you blink at the arrangement, but say nothing of it. Instead, you sit down and place a plate before both of you. Rex’s legs remain sprawled out, one right beside you. You angle your body to face him, drawing a knee up again.

“Almond croissant, and coffee cake muffin,” you say, pointing out the food.

“Thank you,” Rex says, picking up the muffin.

“Do you want some fruit?” You ask, beginning to eat.

Rex shakes his head. “No, no, this is great, thank you.”

“Are you sure?”

Rex nods. You make a little face, pouting a bit. Abruptly, you stand, heading towards your fridge and pulling out a bowl of berries. Rex moves his leg for you to sit back down, before stretching it out again.

It feels so… normal. Looking out the window, you take in the scenery, the way you can see the cobblestone roads, the way you can catch a glimpse of the water. You turn your head back to Rex, watching him eat. You don’t have any protein to give him, because you have no interest in turning on the stove, and you feel a bit bad about it.

“Are you going to get in trouble for skipping out on dinner last night?” You ask.

Rex covers his mouth as he chuckles. He doesn’t think his general will give him a hard time about skipping out, given that Fives probably provided enough information to confirm that Rex was skipping out for dinner with a girl.

“No, no, I don’t think so,” Rex says. “They might ask questions, but that’s only ‘cause most of ‘em never even talk to girls.”

“No?”

“Nah.”

You nod at that, checking the time. “What time do you need to leave?”

Rex glances over at the time along with you. “Probably in like five minutes.”

A little whine peeks from the back of your throat. “Five minutes?”

“Yeah,” Rex says. His eyes drift all over your face. He swallows his bite of croissant. It’s sweet and flaky. Perhaps a hair stale; it wouldn’t have lasted more than a few more hours from now.

You lean forwards, further in Rex’s space. You glance down at his lips before back to him.

“I should probably get dressed,” Rex says, gently.

“Yeah,” you reluctantly agree.

Rex nods. You lean forwards more, one hand going to his thigh.

“Maybe a little kiss?” You ask, selfishly.

Rex’s heart skips a beat. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop.”

You smile. “That’s okay.”

The two of you meet in the middle, tasting of coffee and sweet brown sugar. You have to fight the urge to climb into his lap, instead settling for your deep lean. When you swipe your tongue along Rex’s bottom lip, he lightly sucks on yours in turn, then pulls away slowly.

“Okay,” you whisper. “Go get dressed.”

Rex presses one more kiss to your lips before standing up. You watch as he gets himself together, watch his spine, watch his shoulders. Sighing, you sit back and pop a berry into your mouth. When you go to say goodbye to him at the door, it aches in your chest.

“One more kiss,” you breathe.

The door is open. The sunlight illuminates the courtyard.

Rex can do one more kiss. He leans down, pressing his lips to yours once more. It’s tart and sweet, like the berries you had just eaten. Like the pressure on his heart.

You don't ask him to call you. Instead, you watch from your doorway as he walks down the stairs, as he walks out through the courtyard. Until he turns to the left and is obscured by the walls. Only then do you close the door. Only then do you begin your day, alone again.

#captain rex x reader #reader x captain rex #okay pls enjoy #by ophelia #PLSSS ENJOY !!!!!!!!!!! that is my biggest thing pls enjoy #and pls lmk if you enjoy..... i love reading comments and tags and yapping i rly do i have so much to say about this fic #i need to finish it.....

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isaut · 1 year ago

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𝒍𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒚 𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔, 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓— f!reader x captain rex. 11.1k. ao3

you meet rex on a friday night in a bar. it's the start of a whole lot of coincidences. next. masterlist.

It’s a warm, spring night. The first warm night of the season. The sun still sets early, still leaves the evening blanketed, tucked in. In celebration of the weather’s grace, grace had been extended to the 501st. A night off. A night in their blacks, suits tucked away on their ship.

Naboo’s streets are lined with lamps encased in glass and iron. Intricate designs, ones that were hammered out by grizzled, loving hands generations ago. The streets are cobblestone, not dirt nor concrete. They’re slightly uneven, mined from below the planet’s surface. The favorite of a queen generations ago.

Taking the lead of the group are Fives and Hardcase. Their hands are all over each other: around each other’s necks, shoving each other, playing tag along the winding roads. They’re more like children on these streets, adulthood and responsibilities loosened by the shots taken back at the ship. Flavorless, bright green. From some hole-in-the-wall corner store in Coruscant.

Hardcase darts up the road, ducking behind an intricate column. He’s not well hidden at all, shoulder peeking out from behind. Nonetheless, when Fives walks past and Hardcase jumps on him, the former stumbles, hands stuck between bracing himself from falling and grabbing his brother’s legs to keep him on the piggyback. Instead, they both tumble to the ground, laughing loudly in the night.

The laughter sounds good. It sounds better than the screaming, than the shouting, than the panting, dying breaths that can be heard over the comms.

Tup helps them both up, his hair down and flopping around his jaw. It’s a shaky business, alcohol and giddiness marring all of their veins.

While Rex doesn’t like drinking, isn’t favorable to the warmth from a fresh shot, isn’t favorable to the inhibitions that comes with it, he is favorable to the comfort it brings his brothers. Twelve hours ago he’d been running through dry desert, frantically pulling helmets away from their suits, checking for pulses, holding his own face as the force left their eyes–

“You going to have fun tonight?” Comes a voice from beside Rex. He looks over— Kix. There’s a hair of worry in his eyes, a flash of concern.

Rex clears his throat. Pushes back the thoughts. If he trusted himself more he’d drink.

“I’ll stay out for a while,” Rex replies.

Kix pats his shoulder. No more words are exchanged. No more words need to be exchanged between the two of them.

The trio of stooges stop in their tracks, drawn to a bar. The door opens, and a few women tumble out of it, hair perfectly done and breathless. With them, music wafts out behind them, the acoustic tones shutting with the door. They giggle and wave at the group, one of them pulling a paper pack of cigarettes out of her purse.

Fives waves back. He’s got a not-real grin on his face, one that he thinks is cooler than it is.

“I think we should go here!” Hardcase says, louder than he needs to. Louder than is acceptable in the quiet streets. It earns them a look from some passerby, and a giggle from the tallest of the women.

The name of the bar swings in the warm breeze on a wooden sign, seared into it. Comienzos.

“When we get in, we can do another round of shots!” Hardcase continues. Rex doesn’t think they need another round of shots. But Hardcase’s hands are clapping down, hard, on Rex’s shoulders and shaking him around a bit. “And this time make sure our beloved captain joins in!

“I’m really— I’m fine without one,” Rex insists, waving his brothers off.

“It’s team building!” Hardcase presses. He loops around Rex to be in his face, tilting his head in a way that is probably supposed to be pleading but comes across as childish. “C’mon, you can’t say no to team building.”

Unease churns in Rex’s stomach. Not from the shots, but from imagining Hardcase a little too risky. A little too forward pushing. A little too maniacal. Panting last breaths over the comms.

“Fine. I’ll do one,” Rex bends. He’d regret it. He’d regret not seeing the joy immediately sprawl across his brothers’ faces.

Hardcase lets out a loud whoop! It draws more attention. From the women, from an older couple walking a fluffy, four legged animal. Rex gives a little wave and a nod to the couple, as if he could silently apologize for the disturbance they’ve caused.

Once inside, Rex is bathed in warmth. Bodies are moving on a tightly packed dance floor. Humans, not droids, stand on a stage with an array of instruments. They play each one like it’s an extension of their body, like the instrument has been part of their skeleton since they were born. They’re wooden and brass, and the band shows no sign of stopping soon.

Finding an open spot at the bar, Fives pushes to the front to flag down the bartender. She’s a pretty woman, with tan skin and black hair and a low cut shirt. Something that Fives is very appreciative of.

“Brother’s night out?” She calls over the music.

“Dad’s genes are strong,” Fives says. “We’re gonna do a round of shots.”

The bartender doesn’t seem phased at the joke, which dims the expectation in Fives’ eyes. It’s worked on every girl in the past, after all.

Rex pats Echo on the shoulder. “Gonna go sit down. Do not get crazy.”

Echo clicks his tongue. “We’d never.”

Rex isn’t a fan of liars, but he doesn’t push it. Instead, he turns away from the bar and heads towards an empty table in the corner. It’s miraculously empty and seems to have enough stools for all of them.

When they’d been given their night off, General Skywalker had been flippant but also wished the force to be with them. Perhaps it was happening right now. Rex is slightly thankful as he slides into one of the stools, and watches his brothers from afar. The Stooges do what Rex only assumes is a secret shot. Clear liquid is tipped back from a small shot glass, and then quickly set back down on the table.

Kix, already on his way over the table, points his thumb back at them as if to say get a load of this. Rex huffs a laugh through his nose and shakes his head in disbelief. He slides into the seat beside Rex, rolling his eyes.

“As if we aren’t going to notice,” Kix says.

“Whether or not we saw…” Rex tacks on. He watches them hoot and holler as Echo does a shot of something an amber color. Hardcase rubs the back of Echo’s head with that maniacal grin on his face.

On surprisingly sturdy legs, little yellow shots with candied rims are brought over to the table. An expression of disgust forms across Rex’s face before he’s even tried them. The sweet treat must be Tup’s choosing.

“What is this?” Kix asks, pulling two towards him and Rex.

“Limoncello,” Tup says. “Maria recommended it.”

Rex wants to be on the ship watching a nature documentary on his datapad maybe with a cold beer.

“Maria?” He asks, bringing the shot to his nose to take a whiff. It’s citrus sweet.

“Tup was a big boy and asked for her name,” Fives laughs.

“Don’t marry her in your dreams,” Rex warns, a teasing smirk on his face.

“Don’t marry her in your dreams,” Tup mocks under his breath, shaking his head from side to side. “I just asked her for her name. Don’t be weird.”

The shots are for living another day, apparently. Rex doesn’t see that there’s anything better to cheer for. Not dead yet. The glasses hit the table, then are dumped back down their throats.

It is sweet. A little sour, but mostly sweet. Rex isn’t a fan.

Kix shares his distaste. He gathers the glasses into both his hands and stands. “I’m getting beers. You want?”

“Yeah,” Rex replies.

“Hey!” Fives calls after Kix. Kix turns, raising his eyebrow. “Nothing for us?”

“You’re going to be drunk enough,” Kix replies. He turns, and heads off towards the bar.

Hardcase hasn’t sat down yet. Instead, his hands are clapped on Echo’s shoulders. He’s speaking to Fives about his brother, making diabolical plans to get him laid that night above his head. He’s speaking too loud to be discreet, and loud enough that it makes Rex want to be swallowed by the floor. Fives gestures over to a group of women, a different group than the ones seen before, and adds to their conspiring.

All four of them, the Stooges and Echo, head off towards the women. Rex takes a deep breath of the warm air. Glances over at Kix– The bartender, Maria, seems to actually be engaging him in conversation. She’s leaned over, giving him a look down her shirt, and is laughing at something he’s saying.

Rex looks back at the dumpster fire that’s going on across the room. Fives seems to be making some sort of case for Echo, hand on his shoulder and speaking animatedly. Maybe it’s the same lie, the one about Echo being a virgin, they’re spinning.

Kix returns with two beers and a triumphant look on his face. He slides one over to Rex, and is sure to clink the necks together in cheers before taking a sip.

“What’re you so happy about?” Rex asks.

“Maria said I was pretty,” Kix hums.

“How nice of her to give us all a compliment,” Rex mumbles.

“Hey, don’t be like that,” Kix says, furrowing his brow.

“Sorry.” Rex speaks into the beer’s mouth, taking a long pull.

A beat of quiet passes between the two of them. Rex watches the dancefloor. It’s more attractive than his brothers failing miserably at wingmanning each other.

The dance floor has swelled as the night has progressed. A few of the girls walk away from the Stooges, joining the breathing floor. Rex’s attention isn’t on anyone or anything in particular. Instead, he’s watching the general shapes, the general flows of rhythm that extend through the physical body.

“Maybe you should try getting laid tonight,” Kix suggests.

“I’m not in the mood,” Rex replies, almost too quickly. He’s not.

Kix lets it go. Rex returns to his watching. Maybe the beer will make him feel better. Maybe a walk will clear his head. Maybe he really should have stayed in with a nature documentary. Everyone on the dance floor moves with such ease, as if they are all of the same mind and body. One living organism.

“Hardcase straight up asked if they wanted to, and I quote, fuck,” Fives huffs, sounding more like a petulant child than a rejected adult.

Rex’s attention snaps away from the floor. Fives sits down on a stool beside him, resting his head in his hands.

“He let down Echo. What if he never gets his dick wet?” Fives bemoans.

Hardcase rolls his eyes. He crosses his arms, and doesn’t sit down. “I think we should go to the next bar.”

Rex looks beyond the bemoaners. It seems like Tup and Echo are doing just fine, now that Hardcase and Fives have walked away.

“Don’t think a new bar is going to fix your problems,” Kix says, his gaze following Rex’s.

Rex stands. He claps both Hardcase and Fives on their shoulders. “I think the problem is you.”

They look over. A pained expression paints their faces.

“We have to go to another bar,” Fives insists.

“I’m content right here,” Kix says, bringing his beer to his lips. “Maria gave me her freq– Hey, where are you going?”

Rex turns, a few paces from the table. “Taking a leak. Want to hold my hand?”

“Fuck off,” Kix sighs and turns back to the group. There, he has questions to answer about the bartender from his eager brothers. They sit around him, hanging on to each word that Kix reluctantly shares.

“What I thought,” Rex mumbles to himself, and heads off in search of the restroom.

It’s tucked back behind a wall, sitting behind a large oak door, common in Naboo. After trying the handle, Rex sighs. It’s occupied.

Rex leans back against the wall while he waits, closing his eyes. The music reverberates through the wall, sending pleasant waves through his body.

“Ugh, is it occupied?”

Rex turns his head to face the voice. Immediately, he straightens off the wall. Words escape him for a moment, stuck somewhere in the blank spaces of his brain. You’re beautiful. Red lips, long lashes, curve-hugging dress. His lips part once, then he finds his words, though it’s not many.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, sorry.” What is he apologizing for?

You sigh, crossing your arms. “Honestly, kind of insane this place only has one bathroom.”

Rex nods. Words filter back to his brain in a slow, gracious trickle. “You come here often?”

A laugh stretches out past your red lips. “I’ve been known to spend an evening here, yes.”

There’s a beat of silence. You glance towards the wall before back to the man in front of you.

“What about you?”

“Me?” Rex turns his head back to you. “Oh, I’m just visiting.”

“Where from?”

“Small planet, far away. Nowhere as nice as here.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s plenty nice. You’re just from there, so you don’t see the beauty in it.”

Rex shrugs. He’s about to reply when the bathroom door opens and a patron exits. He gestures towards it.

“Ladies first.”

“Oh, thank you so much.” You deflate with graciousness. With a hand on the door, pushing it open, you look over your shoulder at Rex. Your lashes bat down as you take a long look up and down his body. He’s filled out quite nicely, but there’s something about him that draws you in. “When I’m done in here, I’m going to smoke a cigarette on the rooftop. If you want to join me.”

“Oh, I don’t smoke,” Rex says. He makes a split-second decision. “But I’ll join you.”

You smile wide at him again, then disappear into the bathroom. Rex resumes his slouch against the wall. A faint smile crosses his face as he thinks about your own smile.

Rex doesn’t bother telling his brothers where he’s off too. Instead, he goes straight from the toilet to the rooftop. It takes a small staircase where the middle of the stairs are worn down, and a good push on the door that seems to be stuck on its hinges.

The rooftop is nice. Decorated with little lights and a few tables. It’s clear that it’s meant for patrons, but wasn’t being used tonight due to the live music below. The night sky stretches on above you, stars drowned out by the city lights of Theed.

The bar is across the street from the sea, so the lights are swallowed whole by the waters of Naboo. You stand by the wall, which is a white plaster that reaches your waist, curved at the top. The fairy lights illuminate you, working with the moonlight to encase you in an ethereal glow. There’s a shawl around your shoulders, and a pearlescent cigarette case glints in your hand.

Your head turns at the sound of the door being opened. A lazy grin makes its way across your face as you recognize the handsome stranger from earlier.

“I think you come here more than you’re letting on,” Rex says.

“Sue me,” you hum.

Rex crosses the distance to reach you. He’s handsome, face lit up by the fairy lights and backlit by the door he emerges from. There’s a nice chisel to his face that hints at the rations that fill his diet. In the darkness, his eyes are a glinting brown.

Flicking open your cigarette case, you withdraw a cigarette and place the white butt between your lips. Immediately, red lipstick rings around it. Your lighter lands in your hand, with the same pearl sheen as your case. You illuminate the tip of the cigarette, casting your face in the glow of the handheld fire.

The light shuts off abruptly.

You exhale away from his face.

“Oh, I never introduced myself, did I?” You pull your cigarette away from your face to examine the tip and make sure it’s burning smoothly. Then, you follow through on your words and let your name tumble from your lips.

Rex does so in turn. It’s nice to meet you, as he tells you in turn, repeating your name on his tongue to try it out. The syllables flow nicely, more than he’s used to. There’s an antique ring that he’s a fan of.

You take another drag of your cigarette. “It’s fitting. Your name.”

Rex can’t help but chuckle at the truth behind your words. It does fit, doesn’t it? Almost as if it had been picked out for him. Still, it warms him that you like it. That you enjoy the one thing he’s picked out for himself.

“I saw you staring earlier,” You say. “Do you dance?”

“It’s not for me. I just like watching.”

Your lashes skim down your cheeks again as you look him up and down. The sheer sparkle over your lids is becoming a treasure. When they return their gaze to his own eyes, your brow is raised in question. Lots of men like watching.

“What kinds of things do you like watching?”

Shit. What kinds of things does he like watching? His mind goes blank, and his lips supply the one thing he can think of right now, because an example is standing right before him: “Pretty women.”

“Oh?” You feel your face warm slightly. Flattery. You have to hold off from asking if you’re one of the pretty women he likes looking at.

“Don’t get to very often. Always a nice, good thing when I do.”

“What keeps you from it?”

“The war.” There’s a lot of admittance coming from his lips. It feels strange on his chest. Like there’s a slurping on his soul he can’t tell if he should lean into or avoid.

You hum. Another drag of the cigarette. “Scary times we live in, isn’t it?”

Rex wishes he was better at asking questions. His tongue feels too big for his mouth. “Hopefully you don’t get too close to it.”

“I suppose I don’t.” You pull the cigarette away from your face and place it before you, checking the burn on the tip before raising it back up again. Your arm crosses your chest to support your cigarette elbow, and it presses your chest together. Rex’s eyes dip for just a moment. “Closest I get is asking Gungans for art to hang in the museums.”

“What puts you in that situation?”

“I’m a curator for the National Art Museum. We’re actually celebrating tonight. You into art?”

“I don’t get the chance for it very often.” Only art he had was the jaig eyes on his helmet. He had painted those on, long ago. Taped down the area around them and used an airbrush. Sometimes he’d find Tup drawing in the common area during downtime. Tup liked portraits– sketched anyone and everyone he saw in ballpoint pen. Rex wouldn’t deem his exposure ‘museum worthy.’

“That’s a shame. Don’t dance, don’t look at art, don’t even get to look at pretty women.” You shake your head. “I feel bad for you, Rex.”

“Don’t,” Rex says. “‘S just part of the job.”

“Still. Maybe this is why–”

You’re cut off by the door to the rooftop jostling open. A large figure fills the space, calling out.

“Rex? We’re going to another bar. You ready to go?”

From the cadence, Rex can recognize the voice as Kix. “I’ll catch up later.”

“Right.” Kix pauses, and then makes an exaggerated movement across his lips, as if he was zipping them shut and locking them. He even throws away the key. Rex’s eyes crinkle with a small smile and he waves him off.

The door shuts firmly behind Kix.

“You sure you don’t have to leave?” You ask, slipping your bag from your shoulder.

“Nah. See them everyday.”

Flashing him a smile, you reach inside your purse and produce a tin. You pop it open and place a mint on your tongue. Rex’s eyes follow your fingers intently. “Want one?” You offer.

Rex almost denies. Why must he take more? Instead, he goes along with it, nodding.

“Open your mouth.”

Rex does so. You place the little white mint on his tongue, a small smile on your lips. The muscle flutters slightly.

“Come dancing with me,” You whisper. “I don’t care that you can’t.” Your eyes flit down to his hands, which rest clasped together before you. They’re large, the nails wide. You glance up at him, and lean in slightly. You smell like cigarettes and mint, not something that Rex would ever think he’d like. “I want you to put your hands on my body.”

The sharp breath Rex takes is invigorated by the mint. He almost swallows the small, white candy.

“Yeah?” You ask, smiling widely at him. “Or do you want to stay up here and talk for a little longer?”

Rex swallows. He bets his brothers are gone– Hardcase had probably been begging to leave since he was rejected. Rex glances down your dress again, then to your hips.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” you hum, catching his lingering gaze. You slip your hand between his, separating them from their clasp. His fingers are calloused against yours, signs of hard work over every smooth surface. You slip your fingers between his. “Just follow me.”

Rex does check to see if his brothers are still present. Luckily, the corner is empty. Free of them. He feels his shoulders loosen as he follows you over to where your friends are sitting. A giggle rises in your throat as you toss your bag beside one of your friends, flippantly telling her you were going dancing. Happily, the ones around the table titter upon seeing you with a man in tow. You reach over and take a sip of her drink, laughing when you’re whacked on the hip for your thievery.

Dancing you do go. You lead Rex to the outskirts of the dance floor, somewhere where he can still breathe. Taking Rex’s hands within your own, you place them on your body. The one that wraps around your hip practically engulfs the bone. His other does the same to your hand.

“I promise, no one is watching,” you say, “And I won’t take it personally if you step on my toes.”

“I’ll take it personally if I do,” Rex says. His eyes leave yours for a moment, and land on one of your friends, who is, in fact, busy watching. Quickly, he returns his gaze to you. You’re gazing up at him, a faint smile on your lips and a faint sway in your body.

Rex looks at his feet once you start moving, genuinely worried he’d step on your toes. He fills the space as your feet leave them, and you gently turn him to make a small circle with your box steps.

“Keep your eyes up here, on me,” you murmur over the music. Your hand slides to rest on his chest, and his on your shoulder. Rex’s eyes immediately flash back up from your feet. “Let’s go a little faster.” Your gazes are locked too close to each other. It’s all mint and smoke and a spice that Rex can’t place. Maybe it’s your perfume.

Rex keeps up much better than you had thought. He keeps himself nearly pressed against you, with just enough room for the rise and fall of your chests to fill.

“You’re doing really good,” you whisper, the complement washing over Rex. “Want to spin me?”

“I don’t know if I can,” Rex murmurs in reply.

“It’s easy. Just pause and let me spin and we’ll pick right back up,” you instruct. “It’ll be easy.”

It is. Your fingers glide against each other as you turn, Rex’s hand sliding across your waist as you spin. It electrifies when it crosses over your naked lower back. You settle back into the rhythm of the music, grinning up at Rex.

And oh, suddenly he doesn’t care about your friends staring at the two of you.

“You’re a natural.”

The sweet words swell Rex’s chest with pride. After all, his body is good at doing what it’s told to do. And you’re much more attractive than any general who’s ever given him orders.

Under your gentle and enticing guidance, Rex gets it, to some degree. Understands the rhythm to some degree, as long as your hands and encouraging words were nudging him along. Gotten to understand your body to some degree, smell your perfume and feel your chest press against his.

“I want a drink,” you state.

“Let me get you one,” Rex replies.

“You misunderstand.” Your hand rests over Rex’s chest, right over his heart. It’s not beating as quickly as you would have expected it to after the cardio of dance he had just participated in. “I want a drink at home.”

“It’s late out, let me walk you there.” The response is natural, easygoing. Second nature.

“I hope you do. I hope you join me, too.”

Oh.

“Yes ma’am.”

You grace him with one of those near kisses he’d witnessed earlier when he was just watching. It feels completely different to be on the receiving end– To have your breath almost mingle with his.

The walk to your apartment isn’t too far. It’s close enough that Rex can see why you’d frequent the bar so often– It was barely a walk and you seemed to enjoyed dancing. He wondered, just for a moment, if he was just another part of your normal Friday nights. Work, dance, bring someone home.

Secretly, he hopes he’s an exception.

The gate to the apartment’s courtyard squeaks as it opens. Rex reaches over you and pushes it the rest of the way. The movement has you engulfed in the scent of soap and the hint of sweat. You find yourself taking another breath.

“What a gentleman.” You throw a smile over to him as you step in.

Within the safety of your apartment, you discard your purse on the small table in the entryway. Flip on the lamp that reads there as well. It fills the small area with a warm, orange glow.

“Take your shoes off,” you say, placing a hand on the table for balance as you lift a foot behind you to fiddle with the straps.

“Here,” Rex says, voice soft and rolling in the small space. “Let me help you.”

He drops down. His fingers are large against the soft leather straps and the small metal buckle. There’s half a thought to press a kiss to your knee, half covered by the asymmetrical hem of your dress, but he refrains. He stands and dutifully takes off his own shoes.

With a heavy gaze, you look Rex up and down again. He’s a head tilt taller than you now, not in your heels anymore. He seems to take up more space now, too. Now that he’s somewhere so personal.

You slide into your slippers and pad through the apartment, leading him towards the main living area. Each lamp is flicked on manually, which surprises Rex. Most buildings were designed to be easily controlled by one central data pad.

The warm light is a stark contrast to the fluorescents he’s used to. So is the atmosphere of your living room.

Tall, cream ceilings with windows to match. There’s a balcony, which is locked shut by a heavy brass contraption. The sofa and chair are thick with cushioning, and the coffee and end tables appear antique.

Rex follows you into the kitchen. Another small space, where he finds himself closer than ever to you. The tile is cool through his socks, an intricate design in shades of cream.

“Do you want wine or beer?” You ask, opening up the refrigerator.

“Beer, please,” he replies.

You produce two from the fridge. They clink together as you hold them by their necks in one hand. As you turn, you’re met with the view of Rex leaning against your counter. It’s a far cry from most of your… visitors, who make themselves at home on your couch the moment they enter.

You like this change of pace.

“Want to sit inside or outside?”

“Where do you want to sit?”

“Outside,” You admit.

“Then outside.”

You smile. Rex simultaneously wants to never stop watching the pull of your lips and break the smile with a kiss.

On the balcony, you flick on some more lights, illuminating the area until the darkness of the night consumes the rays. There’s a small table for eating, and a couch. Beside the couch is an elaborate glass hookah set up that you’re quick to move aside.

Taking a seat on the couch, you pat the spot beside you for Rex. You hand him his beer as soon as he’s sat.

Facing him fully, you rest your arm on the back of the couch.

“You said you never danced before, but I have a hard time believing that,” You say.

Rex takes a pull of beer for confidence. “What makes you say that?”

“You were a lot better than I was expecting.”

“Glad I could defy expectations.” There’s a glint in Rex’s eyes that the light accentuates.

Humming, you pose your next question. “Is this your first time on Naboo?”

Rex can’t help but chuckle. He’s by far no stranger to Naboo, but typically spends his days stationed within the capitol building. “No, but it’s the first time I’ve been truly off duty here.”

“And? What are your thoughts?”

“I have no complaints.” Rex flits his eyes down your body. “Have certainly had a change in expectations for the night.”

“Oh?” You tilt your head to the side. “What were your original expectations?”

“I…” Rex’s voice gets lost as his eyes wander, watching your lips form to take a sip from the bottle. The way your fingers wrap around the glass. “Definitely not this.”

You hum, and it makes a reverberating sound through the glass. “This?”

“Something not so rowdy. I was expecting rowdiness.”

“Tell me more,” you urge, leaning into him.

Rex’s heart flutters uncharacteristically in his chest. He swallows. Your perfume has a spice to it that he’s never smelt before.

“My brothers and I have the night off, so we went out. They’re… A lot. Don’t always think things through.” They deserve not to, Rex thinks, at least when they’re off duty.

You laugh. “I think I can tell. Two of them tried picking up my friends.”

“I must apologize for them.”

“Don’t. It was funny.” You reach over, into his space, and run your fingers over his buzz cut. “Are you a natural blonde?”

Rex glances over at your bracelet, which dangles precariously on your wrist.

“Yeah.” The touch of your fingers feels good. Soft and gentle.

“I was blonde when I was a baby,” you comment.

“I think the brown suits you.”

“You’re sweet.”

Rex hums. You withdraw your hand. “You don’t get out much, do you?”

“Is it that obvious?”

You smile. “Perhaps. What keeps you in?”

“Work.”

Taking another pull of your beer, you tilt your head to the side. “You know I’m going to ask you what you do.”

“Nothing fancy. I’m just a soldier.” Rex picks at lint that’s not there on his pants. “For the Republic,” he tacks on.

“Oh.” You take another drink of beer. “Can I be honest with you?”

“You’re going to be, anyways.” He gladly anticipates whatever truth you’re about to share with him.

“I’m a pacifist.”

Rex muddles the words around for a moment. “I think I’d be one too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Would have to think on it a little bit more but… Between you and me, I’m ready for it to be over.”

“I bet. I think you’re too handsome to be a soldier, anyways.”

Rex feels his face warm. It feels like a compliment just for him. Not one to be shared.

“You don’t think there should be soldiers.” There’s no heat to his words. Perhaps, in another life, he’d agree.

“Please, I’m trying to call you handsome. Will you please accept my compliment?”

“I’ll accept it.” Rex takes your hand in his and presses a kiss to your knuckles.

This time, a warmth spreads across your cheeks. You take a final drink of your beer. The metal end table you’re aiming for is on Rex’s side. Instead of passing the bottle to him, you completely lean over him. He gets a good, long look down your back. His hand has half a mind to run down the expanse, to dip into the valley of your spine and run over the swell of your ass.

You pause in front of him as you settle back.

“Tell me, Rex,” his name slides off your tongue, “What would you do if I kissed you right now?”

Rex’s eyes drop from yours to your lips. “I’d be very thankful.”

You inch your face closer. “Would you kiss me back?”

What a ridiculous question. Rex responds by setting his beer down and sliding his chilled hand through your hair, resting it at the nape of your neck.

A shiver trickles down your spine.

Rex’s lips are on yours. Warm, confident, slightly chapped.

You rest your palm on his chest. His heart thrums away beneath. One of his hands comes to rest on your hip, thumb smoothing back and forth over the fabric.

Your tongue slides across his bottom lip. His mouth opens, tongue sliding alongside yours in wet heat. Easing yourself against him, you twist your body to take a seat on his lap. It’s sideways, your dress won’t let you straddle him. Instead, your legs are tucked up next to him.

His hand slides down the smoothness of your legs, down to your ankle before up again. He continues his journey upwards, to your waist and your open back, playing with the low dip of your dress.

You allow your head to lull into the hand that supports you there. Rex presses into the kiss, nose pushed against your cheek. As your tongues pass each other again, you don’t know where yours ends and his starts.

Rex kisses like he’s drinking water. Like the quench to his thirst rests in your lips, in the slick of your saliva. There’s a thrumming building in your core, right where your soul lies.

Your heart aches for him as you pull away and he chases your lips. His eyes flutter open, blinking amber into the dim light.

“Hey,” he says, voice rolling over roughness. There’s a faint hint of red from your lipstick over your lips.

“Hi,” you reply, a little lilt and giggle to your voice. You wonder if your alleged kiss-proof lipstick had shifted.

There’s a lazy, pleased smile working its way across Rex’s mouth.

“Want to follow me inside?”

“Gods, yes I do.”

You slip off of his lap and onto your own two feet. Leaning down, you take Rex’s hands in your own and pull him up to his full height.

“Lead on, gorgeous,” Rex says, dipping back down to get another taste of your lips.

The door to your bedroom is wide open. You fumble for some more lights, slipping around the room to turn most of them on. There isn’t much in your bedroom: only a bed with a large, wooden headboard, an armoire that’s as old as the building, and a vanity you found at a flea market. A few paintings of deities Rex doesn’t recognize hang on the walls in dark wood frames. With the lights dim and warm, you come back to stand before Rex, wrapping your arms around his neck. His hands settle on your hips, then slip to your lower back.

“You don’t need to be so polite,” you murmur, sliding your hands down his chest and further, fingers dancing along the hemline of his shirt.

“Feel like I gotta. Not everyday…” he trails off, distracted by the feeling of your fingers, slightly cold, dancing up under his shirt. You don’t go far, just enough to feel over the v of his abdomen.

“Not everyday…” you encourage.

“‘S not important,” Rex decides on. It’s not. You don’t need to know he rarely does this. That his experience here isn’t to his normal standard. He ducks his head, pressing his lips back against yours, walking you towards the bed.

Your teasing question dies in Rex’s mouth, swallowed by every slick pass of your lips opening and closing on each other. The backs of your knees hit the edge of your made bed, and you fall back on it.

Unfortunately, Rex doesn’t come with you. Instead, he stands before you and between your legs, hesitation momentarily seeping across his face. You sit up and lean back on your hands, the way your shoulders move causing one of the dress straps to slip.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, tilting your head so it rests on your shoulder.

“Nothing,” Rex says, pulling his shirt off over his head.

He’s quick to lean back over you, doesn’t give you much time to admire the planes of his pectorals, or the almost-defined abdomen he has. Wants to drive your attention away from the scars that litter his skin. His knees dip in the duvet, and you spread your own to accommodate him. As your dress rides up, his gaze follows the fabric, which still leaves you modest.

Rex is consuming above you, taking up every aspect of your vision. Your hands run over his shoulders, defined and firm, down his arms, defined and firm. His muscles are carved like the statues you select for showcases. It causes a giddy, girlish giggle to bubble up from your lungs.

“What’s so funny?” Rex murmurs.

You shake your head, hand moving back to cup his face. “Nothing. You’re just… You’re so muscle-y.”

Rex blinks at you, once. Then he ducks his head, a smile forming. “Really?”

“Yeah.” You think you might have dreamed him up once before. With your eyes shut, and a hand in between your thighs, the moon high in the sky. “Yeah.”

Rex’s lips find the pulse point you apply your perfume to, licking over what remains of vanilla beans and spice. Your hand rests upon the back of his head, a sigh leaving your lips. He sucks and laves lavishly, never leaning his full body weight against you. A trail is formed, from jaw to shoulder, as he nips and kisses.

Shrugging your shoulder again, the other strap of your dress is encouraged to slide off as well. The fabric of your dress continues to keep you modest, despite Rex’s kisses continuing over the plane of your exposed breast.

He lifts his head, meeting your gaze.

“May I?” He asks.

And to think he’ll ship back off after tonight. You nod, sliding the straps down so your arms are freed from them. Your nipples, erect and wanting, stubbornly keep the garment up, coming between them and their desire.

Delicately, Rex slides your dress down to your hips. A punched out whine mews from the back of his throat at the exposed skin. It’s equally unbecoming, for him, and attractive, for you. With his hands firmly on your waist, he lowers his head further and swipes a long line across your nipple.

Your nails scratch along his shorn hair, a breathy sigh leaving your lips. You’ve missed the feeling of a mouth on you, and Rex’s is wet and eager. His tongue swirls around the fat of your nipple, slurping around it with obscenity.

Rex wonders how your nails will feel digging into his back.

You push against his forehead, and his lips detach with a pop! His cheeks are ruddy, his eyes wide, filled with worry he’d done something wrong.

“Take off my dress,” You breathe, sitting up on your elbows. Glancing down, you take in your chest, and the array of splotches that decorate your chest and breasts.

Rex swallows and nods. He slips back off the bed, and undresses you with careful, steady hands. An open mouthed sigh leaves his lips as he has you bare before him, only in your underwear. Mindlessly, he uses his hands to messily fold the dress before throwing it on top of a chair in the corner of your room.

Rex’s back swells with the size of his breath. His eyes dart all over you, unable to find just one place to land.

You tap the side of his thigh with your pointed toes. “You doing okay up there, handsome?”

“Yes ma’am,” Rex breathes. He bends down to press a kiss to your stomach, nipping at the soft skin there. When he falls to his knees between your legs, you know it’s over. There’s never been someone through your door like this.

Rex sucks deep kisses into the fat of your thighs, over all the sensitive bits. Your hands slide over his hair, nails scratching against the short hair without purchase.

Mouth centimeters away from your clothed pussy, Rex glances up the mountains and valleys of your body. He speaks your name, calling your attention down towards him.

He doesn’t even need to ask, before you’re breathing a “Yes, yes, yes.”

Instead of sliding your panties to the side, or removing them completely, Rex swipes his tongue along the already wet fabric. You can feel the edges of his tongue over the areas of your labia that try their hardest to eat your underwear whenever you’re out. Rex seems insistent on tasting you through the silken fabric, his nose pressed up against your covered mound.

Your hands leave the back of his head and hook under your panties, trying to push them down. As your hips rise off the bed, his hands wrap around your thighs and pull you closer.

“Rex, let me, let you…”

He pulls off with a sigh. His eyes are slightly glazed over, and you want nothing more than to pull him up for a kiss.

“Is it okay?” He asks.

“Give me your hands,” You urge. He offers them to you without second thought.

Contorting your hand, you gain control of his right hand and dip his fingers past your panties, so they slip behind the flimsy fabric. Rex sucks in a breath, fingers sliding through nothing but warmth.

“Right?” You release his hands and tuck your fingers under the waistband of your panties and slide them down until the top of your mound is visible.

Rex slides them down and off you, and you reward him with a fair piece of praise: “Good boy.”

Rex stills above you. His eyes trail up the line of your body and land on your face. Your brows furrow. “What is it?”

“Never heard that one before,” Rex replies.

“Really?” You find that hard to believe. With a man like this?

Rex nods. He slides his fingers through the silk of your cunt, collecting your wetness on his fingers and sliding it up over your clit. You gasp, hand coming up over your mouth.

“Don’t do that,” Rex murmurs, reaching a hand up to wrap around your forearm, easing your hand away from your face. He replaces your hand with his thumb, swiping over the smearing red lipstick.

There’s a brief moment where he doesn’t move from his gaze, where he just lingers over you.

Then, without warning, his fingers are moving again. They’re slipping through your folds, and he’s lowering himself back down to the side of your bed again. His lips join his fingers, as if it was second nature. Breathing.

His fingers part your folds for his tongue, which traces opening to clit, in a long pull. Rex’s eyes flutter shut, savoring the tang on his tongue. His lips close around your clit, laving attention over the sensitive bud.

Little gasps pop from your lips, and Rex’s ears twitch to pick up each one. There’s a firmness in his pants that’s veering on uncomfortable, and his body shifts to apply underwhelming friction.

There’s nothing but warmth and attention in your core. Waves of pleasure lap at your shore, tides pushed and pulled by Rex’s attention.

Rex lifts his head. He wants to watch your facial expressions as his middle finger slides through your wetness. As it presses against your entrance, which all but sucks him in. A contented sigh slips through your lips, and Rex rises up your body to press his lips back against yours. His tongue slides against yours with the same pace as his finger, easing you deeper into the bedspread.

Your legs bend so your knees brush against his sides. Leaning back, Rex’s hand rests on your knee, gently moving it to the side to give him a better view of how his finger moves in and out, of the whiteness that clings to his finger.

He slides out completely, then wets his ring finger to join. At the welcome intrusion, you stretch your arms back above your head, pulling your stomach taunt. Rex’s fingers coax within you, searching for the perfect spot to press upon.

You shift your hips slightly, and a sigh leaves your lips when he grazes upon the spongiest part within you. Rex curls his fingers, and a breathy moan leaves your lips.

Satisfied, Rex ducks his head back down. His fingers find purchase on your mound, exposing the flushed wetness of your clit. His tongue works in unison with his fingers, flicking over the bud.

The tides within you swell. Subconsciously, your legs close in around Rex’s head, swallowing him closed like an oyster. Your hips shift, rising and rolling in synchronization with his fingers. Up and down, up into the warmth, down into the pleasure.

“Rex…” you breathe, fingers grazing against his head.

He hums into you, eyes opening and watching as your hand slides along your stomach, nails creating little deltas along the flesh.

Your thigh quivers beside him. Moans rise from your mouth, floating into the heady air.

Temptation to speed up, to intensify swirl around in Rex’s mind. To elicit louder cries, to encourage the small of your back to lift off the bed. Instead, he keeps his course steady, eyes fluttering shut once more.

There’s another weak call of his name, laced in between a moan. Rex groans, content to do nothing more than hear it again. He’s listening, he promises he’s listening. He can feel the tightness building, can hear nothing but the slick sounds emitting from where he’s dipped inside you.

The final crest over is prolonged. Arched back, complete stillness, whimpering moan. Hands fisted in the bedsheets. Rex slows his movements, detaching his mouth first.

He hovers above you, lazily moving his fingers. Your legs continue to quiver, your chest continues to suck in deep breaths. Your eyes crack open, a hand lazily rising to tug on his dog tags, pulling him down and closer to you.

You slot your lips against his. There’s wetness and tang and a rapidly familiar warmth. You hold him close by the side of his face, feeling his jaw move with each swipe.

“Thank you,” you whisper against his lips.

“Don’t thank me,” Rex replies, pressing another kiss to your lips. His fingers withdraw with a slickness, and he’s careful to not set them on your bedsheets.

You give a non committal hum. Reaching for his hand, you bring it to your lips, licking a stripe along the underside before taking them into your mouth. Your tongue laves over the digits, sucking every drop of your essence off of them.

When Rex withdraws his hand, his eyes are wide. There’s a beat of your breaths, before his lips are on yours again. He plunders your mouth, chasing after the taste he was planning on enjoying himself.

You slide up your bed, until your head is comfortably pillowed. A groan slips from you, when you see that Rex is still wearing pants.

“That can’t be comfortable, can it be?”

You watch with rapt attention as he slides his pants off and down along with his boxers. Your next breath hitches in your throat when you get a good look at his cock.

Heavy. Seated among a thatch of thick, dark hair that trails up to his bellybutton.

You swallow. Then, you reach over and fumble within your nightstand, pushing aside lube and vibrators for the box of condoms that was in there.

“Come here,” you beckon, patting the space beside you. Rex crawls on the bed beside you, shoulders rippling in the lamplight. His thighs are decorated in thatches of hair that thicken as they near his groin.

He settles between your thighs, hands moving over the smooth skin.

“You’re beautiful,” Rex murmurs. His hands engulf your thighs, sliding upwards to where they crease into your core.

Spellbound by the reverent tone of voice, you slide your legs apart for him, revealing the very place he had just been. His eyes dip down, then up to your chest. His brows furrow, seeing the little marks he had left in his wake.

One of his hands rises, fingers gliding over a hickey on the side of your breast. “My apologies about this.”

“Oh, Rex,” you coo, covering your hand over his, “There is absolutely no need to apologize. In fact, you can even leave more.”

Rex’s eyes search yours, discovering nothing but lust. Pupils blown wide.

Cupping his face in your hands, you pull him closer for another kiss. His hardness slides between your folds as he presses close, and he groans into your mouth. Long, drawn out. Pent up.

“Feel good?” You widen your legs for him. His cock slides along your clit, rubbing against it deliciously. You hum in pleasure.

Another moan slides from his lips. You reach between the two of you, fingers carding through his happy trail as you follow it to his hardness. He’s heavy in your hand. Your fingers dance along the underside, cutting between his heat and your own. You thumb slides over the flushed tip of his cock, and another groan comes from Rex, this time directly in your ear.

Your core squeezes. You feel a dribble of wetness slide from your hole.

Removing your hand, you gently push him back and away from you. Rex goes easily, all too quickly. You tear a condom off and pass it to him.

Rex dutifully takes it. There’s little fanfare as he wraps himself up, sliding the latex on.

You push him back again, giving him a little nudge on the chest. Situated on his back, you climb over his hips, dragging his cock back through your folds. Rex’s eyes flutter shut before they snap back open.

“Don’t want to keep you from watching,” You reply with a breathy laugh.

“Wouldn’t want to miss it for the world.” Rex gives you a handsome half smile that makes your mind stutter.

You return the smile, through slightly smeared lipstick, and rise up on your knees. Rex finds his cock for you, and your fingers pass over each other as you take it in your hand. The head presses against your entrance, which flutters at the pressure.

Biting your bottom lip, you let gravity ease you down. One of Rex’s thighs rests propped up behind you, the other turned open. He offers you his hands for you to hold onto resting against so you don’t slip down his cock too quickly.

Once fully sheathed, you give yourself a moment to adjust to the fullness within you. Your hips begin rolling slowly, warming yourself up even more. A punched out whine comes from behind your bitten lip.

Rex’s brows are pinched together as he watches, mouth open and lips in a wide ‘o.’ He lets you grind against him, lets you start to shallowly bounce yourself up and down on him, lets you take your pleasure into your hands for a few minutes. It’s pleasurable, combined with the little moans that you’re letting out, but it’s not enough.

His hands find your hips, and he braces his feet against the bed, knees up. With little effort, he lifts you up to the head of his cock before pulling you back down. For the next pass, he’s sure to thrust his hips up to meet you halfway.

The look on your face is a mixture between pleasure and shock. It doesn’t take you long to get on board with the change of pace. Your hand presses over your stomach, so you can feel Rex as he slides in and out of you, and you make sure to hug his cock with every pass. From your vantage point you watch as all of his muscles move in harmony with each other. Your core squeezes. A ring of white begins to form on the base of Rex’s cock.

With your hips as purchase, Rex pulls himself up into a seated position. Immediately, you lock your ankles behind his back. He chuckles as he leans in to kiss you, pressing you back against the pillows again. One of his hands supports your lower back, the other on your thigh.

You look at him through your lashes. His own pupils are blown wide.

“I’m not very good at sitting back,” Rex murmurs.

“Thank goodness,” you hum, hands running over the planes of his shoulders.

“Thank goodness?” Rex repeats, slowly sliding out before pushing in even slower. At this angle, you can feel every centimeter as it's fed into you. “Why’s that?”

“Um…” You can’t exactly think through your comment.

“Tell me,” Rex urges, continuing the slow thrusts.

“I just… I don’t… I like…” How deep is he?

“What do you like?”

“I like… I like working with… With gravity…”

Rex slowly picks up the pace. He hikes your body up, giving your knees no place to notch but over his shoulders.

“With gravity?”

You whimper your affirmation.

“Is this better?” Rex’s hands move from your hips to your thighs, holding them flush against his chest. When you nod, he moves to press your legs back, so they’re butterflied away from your cunt. “Or do you prefer this?”

Your reply is a moan. One of your hands cover’s Rex’s splayed fingers, the other reaches above your head for your pillow. A breathless chuckle leaves Rex’s lips, and he continues to keep a steady pace. Each thrust you can feel in your throat with how deep he’s pressing– you didn’t know you could feel anything that deep within you.

It’s full. Almost too full. Your cunt flutters around his cock, anticipating and rewarding every stroke.

Your hand is on the way to cover your mouth, but Rex is faster. He slips his fingers through yours, pressing your hand into the plush of your pillows. Your other hand reaches up to cup behind his head, sprawling out over the nape of his neck. As your lips reattach to his, his thrusts fluster before speeding up, giving you no choice but to pull away to let out a moan.

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe. One of Rex’s hands comes to knead the soft tissue of your breast.

It leaves its work quickly, however, to spare attention towards your clit. As his thumb swipes over the bundle of nerves, an even louder moan climbs out through your throat. Your thighs shake, and your hands rise to press against your headboard.

Rex almost feels bad. He’s going too fast, he’s going too hard, your headboard is millimeters away from knocking against the wall with each rhythmic push of his hips. But your face is contorted in pleasure, eyes screwed shut and head tilted back.

Your eyes flash open as you feel your orgasm rapidly approaching.

“Rex,” You gasp.

“What is it, sweetheart?” Rex asks, leaning over you. “You gonna cum?”

You whine. There’s another thrall of pleasure at the pet name.

“Tell me,” Rex urges. His lips hover over yours.

“Yeah,” You breathe, the vowels hitching with every thrust. “Don’t– Don’t stop.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.” Rex gives you a grin before a grunt, trying his hardest to keep a steady pace. He’s throbbing, you can feel the twitch of his cock inside you.

Your orgasm spills over and out, rippling from your moans down to your cum. As you peak, Rex’s thrusts speed up for a brief moment, then still, as he empties with a groan into the condom. Your legs feel gummy, weak and heavy as Rex eases out of you and rests your shaking legs on the bed. The sweat on his shoulders glazes in the light as he cleans up.

You gesture to the bathroom, which is attached to your bedroom. Closing your eyes, you listen as Rex throws the condom away, then as cabinets open and close.

“In the closet,” You call, voice lighter and higher than you’d ever heard it.

Rex returns with a damp, warm washcloth as he removes the last traces of sex from between your legs. He presses a kiss to your knee, a little too soft for a hook up but makes your stomach flip regardless, before getting back off the bed.

When you crack open your eyes, you see that he’s pulling on his pants. You sit up on your elbow.

“What are you doing?” You ask.

“I figured you’d want me out of your hair,” Rex replies.

You pout. “Come lay with me for a moment, at least.”

Rex hesitates. You rub the bedding beside you. “Just for a moment. And then I’m going to go take off my makeup.”

Rex obliges. He slides into the spot and you rest your head on his chest. His arms wrap around you, thick and secure. You exhale, relaxing into him. Maybe you should have taken off your makeup first, then you could rope him into spending the night. Absentmindedly, you card your fingers through his chest hair. His hand begins to rub up and down your back.

“Normally I insist people spend the night,” you murmur against his skin, eyes slipping shut. He hums to show he’s listening. “I like it.”

“I gotta be gone real early in the morning,” Rex replies. His voice rumbles through his chest.

“That’s a shame.”

“Why?”

“Was going to make you breakfast. I have avocados that need using… eggs that need frying… coffee that needs drinking… I just got new coffee cups…” Your words begin to slur together from sleepiness.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Rex says, jostling his shoulder slightly.

You hum, raising your eyebrows.

“Go take that makeup off.” He sits up, bringing you with him. His eyes glance down at your nipples, which are soft in the heady air.

“Right,” you say, climbing over him and off the bed. “Don’t slip out.”

“I’ll stay right here,” Rex promises.

Rex doesn’t leave in the middle of the night. Instead, he’s under the softest sheets and the heaviest blanket he’s ever experienced, with the fan on high and a naked woman next to him, tucked up under his arm and sleeping soundly. He finds sleep doesn’t evade him as easily as it normally does.

Morning comes too soon. Rex wakes to the birds chirping outside, to the early streaks of dawn as she streams through your window. He’s still on his back, arm thrown over his head. The pillows are too soft. Beside him, you’re still mercifully asleep. Back exposed, arms wrapped around your pillow. Nose tucked into your bicep.

Shit. Rex has to leave. He glances over at your sleeping figure again, then slowly sits up. Despite trying his hardest not to disturb you, he’s unsuccessful. You stir beside him, shifting around and sitting up on your elbow, rubbing your eye.

“Hey.” Rex’s voice is rough in the morning air. “I gotta get going.”

You huff a sigh and flop onto your side. “Give me a second. I’ll make you coffee.”

“I really can’t stay,” Rex says. He keeps his hands to himself– The lustful era of the evening had been left before the sunrise. It wouldn’t be to his morals if he laid a hand, no matter how soft, against your skin.

You’re lifting yourself back up, duvet slipping down to your middle. “No, I– Let me.”

Rex’s eyes dip down to your breasts before back to your face. He’s already out of the bed. “I have to get back.”

“A cup of coffee isn’t going to kill you,” you insist, sliding out of the bed. You head over to your armoire, pulling an oversized sleep shirt out.

“Really, I appreciate the hospitality,” Rex repeats, pulling on his pants. “But—”

Rex’s protests land him sitting at the kitchen table, gaze torn between watching you make coffee and the view out the window he’s beside. You have a really nice view, overlooking Theed. However, you are also a really nice view.

With the fridge open, you pluck a carton out of it and set it on the table.

“I only have plant milk,” you say, “Hope it’s okay.”

“Oh, I drink my coffee black,” Rex says.

You blink at him. “You know, you look like you do.”

Rex hums. He watches appreciatively as you pour two mugs of coffee.

“Where do you have to be this morning?” You ask while handing him a mug and taking a seat beside him. You do not take your coffee black, and look like you don’t anyways.

Rex murmurs his thanks as he accepts the mug. He takes a sip before responding. The real answer is that he needs to be back at the ship before General Kenobi notices General Skywalker’s absence, and Rex is included in the “You know, Anakin, it’s important to remain focused on our missions at hand” spiel. Instead, he gives you: “Work. Before that I have to make sure everyone’s made it back from their nights.”

You desperately want to ask him if he’s one of those fabled clones that the Republic breeds. But it feels too personal. Too out of pocket. Instead, you settle on changing the topic entirely.

“You know, you have very distinguished features.”

Rex raises an eyebrow at you. “Pardon me?”

“Like… your nose and your eyebrows and your jaw.” You trace the features on your own face. “You look kind of like…” You remember that Rex had mentioned he didn’t have time for art the night prior, “Well, there’s this painting of a philosopher named Diogenes. You resemble him, but without the beard and the hair.”

It’s the strangest, and most detailed, compliment Rex has ever received. “Thank you?”

You hum, taking a sip of your coffee. “It is a compliment, by the way. He’s handsome in the painting.”

Rex takes another drink of coffee. It’s stronger than he’s used to, for sure. The stuff on the ship must be watered down to accommodate so many drinkers, and after tasting this cup, he’s not sure the coffee he’s used to is actually coffee. “What about you? Are you doing anything today?”

“No, I have the day off.”

Must be nice. “What are you going to do with it?”

You drum your fingers on the side of your mug. “Paint, probably. Maybe go for a walk. Practice my Gunganese.”

What a life of leisure. First, there’s an ache of jealousy that stokes itself deep within Rex. By tonight, he’ll be in a debriefing meeting about a planet that’s fallen under Separatist control. Then, it’s washed away with the reminder that he’s designed to allow for people like you to have lives of leisure. That life isn’t for him.

“I don’t know any humans who speak Gunganese,” Rex comments.

You sigh. “That’s the whole issue. The Gungans have been here long before humans and yet no one really speaks their language. I’ve been learning to try and at least smooth things over in a cultural sense. They have such a rich history with fascinating art pieces that I really want displayed in the museum, so people can learn more about them.”

Rex raises his eyebrows. The only Gungan he knows is Senator Binks who is… If Rex will allow himself a moment of selfishness, not his favorite person to be assigned duty to. “That’s quite noble of you.”

“It’s the least I can do.” You shrug.

“You speak any other languages?”

“My Rodian is really rusty. I took it in school, so I can write essays but my conversational isn’t very good. What about you?”

“Kaminoan.”

Your brows raise. “Really? What does it sound like?”

Rex chuckles, a little sheepish. “It’s nothing special. It’s not attractive or anything like that.”

“Rex, I literally speak Gunganese. I promise it’s probably more attractive than that.”

True. Rex clears his throat. Takes another sip of coffee. Thinks about what to say. When he sets his mug back down, he gives you a sentence. It rolls off his tongue, second nature.

It is attractive. All vowels and consonants that slide together. You cross your legs under the table.

“So, what did you say?

“That you make your coffee really strong.”

A blush rises on your cheeks. “There’s milk and sugar if you want it.”

“No, no, it’s not a bad thing,” Rex says quickly, “I like it. Really. It’s leagues better than what I normally get.”

“You’ll have to let me know the next time you’re in town,” You hum, finger tracing the mouth of your mug, “I’ll make you another cup.”

Rex’s heart tugs uncomfortably. That would be nice, wouldn’t it be?

“I don’t know when I’ll be back on Naboo,” Rex says, “But you've definitely made my visit worth more than I could have imagined.”

You hum at that, then stand from the table. You open a drawer and pull out a pad of paper, shaped in a heart, and find a pen. You scribble onto it, then tear it away.

“Here,” you say, passing the paper to him. “This is my frequency.”

There’s an x next to your name like a little kiss. Rex accepts the paper, and doesn’t bring up that there’s no way he’ll be able to contact you, not when all of his communication is heavily monitored. Instead, he tucks it into his pocket, where it feels warm against his thigh.

Rex leaves your apartment with a day-old croissant in his hand and the taste of berries and coffee lingering on his tongue. The sun seems brighter. The sky seems bluer. The birds seem to chirp in a melodic harmony. The walk back to the ship is pleasant. One that he doesn’t mind taking the long way for. After all, there are things for him to appreciate.

#captain rex x reader #by ophelia #i had to get this out of the docs it was sending me insane #pt 1 of ???

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