For What It's Worth - Part 8
Rex x Reader
So, uh, it's been a while. Like, a year. Life has been *gestures at the world vaguely* not great. But I promise this story continues! Methinks it'll be 10 parts total once it's all done.
Summary: Rex loses his shit, Fox wins Best Big Bro Award, We commit crimes against the Republic (just a lil bit), and You and Rex finally get some alone time
Warnings: Sex be here, Minors begone, this one is a bit longer, reader is afab, there are confusing, messy *feelings* and everybody is tired, everything may go to shit but at least we can fuck, unprotected piv sex, oral f receiving, emotional sex, i love you sex, thank force you're okay sex, come eating, Rex displays a teeny bit of a breeding kink, only slightly proofread we die like clankers
Tag List: @bambiswriting @jessyhazy @bimboshaggy @heylookitworked @eclec-tech @burningnerdchild @liopleurodean @littlemissbshine @mae-lou-ron @the-echolyte
If anyone would like to be added to the tag list, please comment below or message/ask directly.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8
The doors to the heavily armored CG transport closed, and Rex launched himself at the twi’lek.
Shor’s back hit the wall with a distinct crunch, and he managed to draw a terrified breath before a plastoid covered forearm pressed against his neck.
“Rex, no!”
But he paid Fox no mind at all. Everything but the wide-eyed, shaking, despicable face before him felt distant and faded. There was a pull at his shoulder, and then at his blaster belt, but he didn’t care. Let his brother take his weapon. He didn’t need it.
“She was your friend!” he snarled, bearing down on the windpipe beneath his arm. “And look what you’ve done to her! You’ve made her a spectacle! You broadcasted her name, her face, her pain!”
Rex had never been so livid, never felt so helpless. Not when he’d been forced to retreat or been taken prisoner or lost a squadron. Not even when he’d come back to you battered and languishing in your bed. This was invasive, this was sick. He needed to hurt the person who caused this. He needed to feel Shor break beneath his hands.
Your beaten face, flung high up on that screen for the entire system to see, flashed before his eyes again. Every cry, every wince, every nightmare you’d had over the last two weeks flooded his brain.
The first punch was too simple, too easy. He felt the bones around Shor’s nose crack beneath his glove, and it did nothing to assuage the frenzied monster that had risen up inside him. So he did it again. And again.
Shor grunted, his head flew back and banged against the wall of the ship. Fox shouted, and Rex heard the clack of plastoid against plastoid as his brother’s arms wrapped around him and tugged. He did not cede ground. Not this time.
Not when another creeping, repulsive thought had snuck its way into his head, “The pictures,” he grunted, Fox straining behind him. “Some of them showed her room. Some of them were from this week.”
He released some pressure from Shor’s throat, “You foul piece of shit! The angles were from her desk, where I threw the fucking button you gave her!”
Rex went for the stomach this time, punching upward with so much force he thought, just for a second, he might punch through. Shor wheezed and coughed, struggling against the cuffs he was still bound by.
A yank at his head, and sudden light filled his vision. Fox had gotten his helmet off of him. Not that it mattered.
“Did you watch all week, while she tried to heal?” He gritted out, laying more hits to the twi’s ribs. He hoped he left fractures spidering clear to his spine. “Did you watch her sleep? Did you watch her change? You sick little-”
There was a brief flash of pain at the back of his skull. Rex saw the overhead lights of the transport grow brighter and brighter, until his entire vision went white. He felt himself topple over, but he was gone before he hit the floor.
*********************************
The ride to CG HQ had been quiet and tense, but at least it jostled you around enough to keep you alert.
The hours after your netscreen had gone blank had been a fuzzy, gray amalgamation of your own shock and panic. You’d knelt there on the floor, struggling to breathe until a sharp knock at your door spurred your numb body into autopilot movements.
At the sight of three heavily armed troopers, their helmets painted red instead of blue, you finally burst into tears.
They were sweet, sweeter than they needed to be, taking the time to awkwardly comfort you until you calmed down enough to listen. They were here to take you to safety, the one named Lockpick gently explained to you, just in case some nutjobs managed to figure out where you lived. When that didn’t get your heavy limbs moving, another clone stepped up, taking your shoulders in hand and settling his jaggedly-painted helmet in front of your face.
“My name is Sergeant Hound, ma’am,” he said, low and kind, like you might bolt from him at any moment. “You probably don’t remember, but we met a few weeks back. I need you to pack a bag of clothing and essentials. We’re going to take you to Captain Rex.”
A sense of urgency finally sparked in your brain. Your head whipped up, eyes gazing into the steady visor before you. It wasn’t the visor you wanted to be looking into right now, “Rex?”
Hound nodded and placed a hand over his heart, “I promise, ma’am. He’ll be very happy to see you.”
That was all it took. You’d dressed and packed in ten minutes, and your clone escort sat you down in their speeder, surrounding you from all sides.
The ride was quick, and Corrie HQ was humming with energy and movement, soldiers running this way and that, deploying and reporting back. No one seemed to look in your direction except…
Fox was waiting for you at the entrance, issuing commands to all the troopers running up to him. They turned around and left him just as quickly, like he was a revolving turnstile of stress and orders.
He barely acknowledged your escort, just nodded decisively when he saw that you were still in one piece, “Good. Hound, rejoin your unit and get back out there. I want my streets back from the brawlers by morning.”
Hound and his comrades were gone before you could even thank them.
You turned back to your host, who was scanning you up and down, “Commander. Good to see you again.”
He hummed absentmindedly and tapped at his datapad, “I wish it were under different circumstances. Glad to see you’re on the mend though.”
You chanced a glance around, searching for a flash of 501st blue, “Where…?”
“He’s in my office,” Fox sighed. “Should be awake by now.”
Worry stabbed at your heart, “Awake?”
He placed a hand on his hip, “I…had to knock him out. He was going at Ryesim, and I couldn’t snap him out of it. If he’d killed him, if the injuries are even attributed to him, Rex could be decommissioned.”
Fear, raw and terrible, flooded your being. Anger too. This was so wrong. This was so unfair.
“It’s another reason I want you here,” Fox grunted, offering you his elbow. “I have a story to put in the report about the incident, but I need Rex to agree to it.”
You nodded, grasping his arm and squaring your shoulders, “Just take me to him, please.”
*********************************
Good soldiers follow orders. This, Rex had drilled into his head from the beginning.
Apparently, bad soldiers woke up with the mother of all migraines. The lights in Fox’s office made his eyes thrum, but the memory of Shor’s face breaking under his knuckles made the pain worth it.
There was the constant rumble of activity on the other side of the metal wall against which a lumpy, too-short couch sat. Fox must have dumped his ass here after knocking him out. If Rex was truly honest with himself, he knew that was a big risk, even for brothers. Rex had attacked a civilian. Fox would have been better off to shoot him and save himself the trouble.
“He’s up,” Ah, speaking of his brother’s voice. He’d be able to pick out that short, clipped phrasing and irritated click of teeth anywhere. “Shake it off, Cap. I’ve got papers for you to sign.”
Awareness began to creep in amongst the too-bright lights and pulsing in his skull. Rex blinked hard at the durasteel wall before turning to see Fox tapping impatiently at the helmet on his desk. His eyes were undercut by ever-present dark circles, but they were bright. Sharp. And not nearly as angry as they should be. Fox looked almost patient. And just beyond him, perched uncomfortably on a chair in the corner…
You.
Rex practically sprang upright on the couch, “Cyare-”
“Don’t,” Fox’s brow-beaten command was the only thing that kept Rex from racing to your side. Well, that and the fact that his head felt like it was ten times heavier than usual. “We have some things to discuss first.”
Of course they did. A hollow sort of numbness invaded his senses, and he couldn’t bear to look you in the eye. Your pained resignation was practically radiating from the corner. You knew. You knew what he’d done. You’d watched the beginnings of it live on the net, like you promised him you would.
The vision of your face, as tall as a building and put on display for every bastard in the anti-clone movement to see and use, invaded him once again, and Rex could not find it in himself to summon regret.
So then. This was it. Ryesim was probably demanding every charge possible be placed at Rex’s feet. If, of course, a medic hadn’t wired his jaw shut with all the damage he’d done. And if his last free act, last breathing act, was to avenge some of the pain inflicted on you…well, that was alright, wasn’t it? He supposed he ought to count himself grateful that Fox had brought you here to say goodbye. That would be the absolute worst of it - you crying, sobbing, begging him to run, pleading with Fox to let him go. And he would hold you and tell you he’d do it all over again-
A digipad hit him in the chest and fell into his lap. The document displayed was horribly formal, with the Corrie logo and Fox’s letterhead emblazoned at the top.
“The official report,” Fox nodded at the meticulous sea of words, which Rex knew shouldn’t exist until the guilty party was questioned and charged. “Ryesim attacked you in the transport, got your helmet off, knocked you out, and the rest of the boys had to detain him.”
Rex blinked. Maybe his bleary mind was playing tricks, “What are you-”
“And then he picked a fight with a big old drunk in the tank, got roughed up some more.”
“That’s not what happened-”
“Wow, Rex. He must’ve really hit you hard,” Fox’s tone was strange… casual cut with a quiet sort of insurmountability. “I have a signed statement from Ryesim himself, as well as multiple troopers who swear that’s exactly how things played out.” He sat back on his desk, lazily crossing his ankles, sipping a cup of caf, and staring a hole directly through the middle of Rex’s forehead.
A dark, harrowing chasm opened up in the pit of his stomach, “What are you doing?” He couldn’t help it. He glanced at you in the corner, biting your lip and staring at the floor. The truth. You deserved to know the truth about what he’d done. “I tried to break Ryesim in half-”
But Fox wasn’t done spinning his shit, “This incident will be recorded and entered into the system, but since you’ve decided not to press charges, that’ll be the end of it. That’s very forgiving of you, Rex.”
“Commendable, even,” came your small voice in the corner, which had not entirely lost its lovely sense of irony. Your red, bleary eyes held a sharp vindictiveness Rex had never seen before. “They should give you another medal for being so kind to him.”
He sucked in a breath through his teeth. The office air was stale. His guilty, bruised hand itched beneath his glove, “No. I… no, you can’t do this. I should be-”
“Be what?” A fierce change took over Fox’s face, and suddenly, all hand-waving pretense evaporated. He delicately, primly set his caf down… and advanced on Rex like a hungry nexu. “Should you be court martialed? Put in a cell? If I could treat you like anyone else who broke the law, I would, but it doesn’t work that way.” His voice rose in volume, coated with something worryingly close to fear. “You’ll be rogue Republic property, and they won’t bother to decommission you! They’ll strangle you in your cell! They’ll induce heart failure through something in your food! They’ll take you to the lower levels and make it so no one will be able to identify your body, then broadcast some story a few weeks later about you heroically died in battle! You do not get to do that to me! You do not get to do that to her!”
A sob echoed hard off the metallic office, and Rex watched in despair as tears fell freely from your cheeks to the hard floor. You hugged yourself and looked away. His throat felt tight.
“How the hell did you get a statement like that from him?” He grit out through clenched teeth, meeting his brother’s furious stare.
Fox jerked his head in your direction, “She asked.”
“What.” The word was flat, dangerous, and Rex stood up, chest to chest with his fellow trooper. “You. Fucking let her. In the same room as that-”
“I had to, Rex,” came your sweet, angelic whisper, and it was steady despite your tears. You sat there in your lounge wear, looking entirely too cold and lonely in your seat. Rex couldn’t take it anymore. He pushed Fox back with probably too much violence and rushed to your side. You melted into the hard planes of his armor, shaking, clutching, breathing him in. “I’m not going to let you die over his stupid ass.”
“She was so smart about it,” Fox went back to leaning on his cluttered desk, and Rex sent him the nastiest glare he could muster. “In exchange for admitting fault and agreeing to the accurate sequence of events, Ryesim will face no charges from the GAR for assaulting a soldier, and no charges for the very serious illegal surveillance of a private citizen.”
Rex practically snarled, placing a hand on the back of your head. How fucking dare… “You can’t expect her to agree to that.”
“It was my idea,” came your small, tired voice. You gazed up at him, eyes still watery. “Fox’s offer wasn’t going to be good enough. Shor was pissed. I had to give him something.”
“You don’t have to give that rat anything-”
“You’re worth it,” you smiled through your tears, and his heart felt like it sputtered out and reignited all in the same moment. “They don’t get to take you away from me.”
He hesitated for just a moment more, then sighed. The adrenaline and rage that had sustained him so well before he caught the blunt end of Fox’s blaster had dissipated, leaving him stranded in a desert of exhaustion. What’s more, you were tired, and you were scared. He could worry about his honor or lack thereof later.
He looked back to his brother, who was watching you comfort each other with longing he was trying to cover with a smug smile. The soothing sensation of you in his arms hit Rex like an out of control speeder, and he finally felt the full weight of what Fox had given him. “It seems I owe you a never ending list of favors, brother.”
Fox snorted, “I’m just glad you’re not quite as stupid as the rest of your droid-smashing bimbos in blue.”
But Rex was already shaking his head. Humor be damned. Cavalier brotherhood be damned, “Seriously.” He laid his head on top of yours and allowed himself to breathe for the first time since he’d left you dozing in bed. Your hair still carried its usual scent, and his knees nearly gave way. “Thank you.”
Fox inclined his head, then his eyes seemed to shutter out any tender emotions he might have been feeling. Back to business, “I’ve arranged for you both to stay in the barracks for a few days. Empty commander’s quarters. You can thank the chancellor for keeping us so short staffed.”
“I can’t…” You piped up, sounding as tired as he was. “I can’t go home for a while, Fox says. Honestly, after all this, I might think about moving.”
Rex’s throat tightened. This was his fault, all of it. Every single thing that had befallen you was because of his presence in your life. He thought of earlier in the week, when he’d stared at a collection of rings with so much hope. How had it gone so irrevocably wrong? Blowing shit up… barking orders… picking the least-terrible-but-still-terrible option… was this all he could give you? He’d destroyed your simple existence with such efficiency it might as well be a droid factory.
But your arms were squeezing around him so hard he could feel it through the plastoid, “Come back to me.” You muttered into his chest.
Fox cleared his throat, and began tapping his pen impatiently against the desk, “Let’s hop to, shall we? It’s not like I’ve got six million things to do, all held up by your existential constipation. How you operate with so much guilt coursing through your veins is beyond me.”
Rex growled, but shuffled over to snatch the pen from his brother’s grip, all while you hung off his waist, stiff and sniffling. He signed the doc without looking at it, instead pinpointing your overnight bag, dragging you back over to it, and shouldering that too.
“Thire’s waiting outside,” Fox was already sitting back at his desk, looking at his next report. He eyed Rex’s disheveled armor and terrible bruise, raised an eyebrow at your exhausted attempts to crawl inside his chest plate. “Try to look a little more put together while you’re walking through my halls, the both of you.”
To hell with that. If Rex wanted to carry you through the barracks like a kidnapped bride, there was nothing his brother could do to stop him, “C’mon, cyare. You need to relax, yeah?” At your quick little nod, he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and shoved his bucket back over his head. “You’re my favorite brother, commander.” He called back over his shoulder.
“Damn right, I am. As repayment, tell Fives to quit hosting shot night for my troopers.”
“That secretary doesn’t know what she’s missing!”
“Shut your fucking mouth and go get some rest.”
*********************************
“Is this…like where you usually sleep?” You asked, inspecting the sparse quarters the CG had given you. “When you’re not home?”
Home. Your small, warm apartment came to mind, giving the buzzing under Rex’s skin something to focus on. You wouldn’t be going back there anytime soon, and he forced himself to push past the heartbreak that thought brought him, “No, this is nicer. The Resolute only has single rooms for soldiers ranked commander or higher. I share with three other men.”
You hummed absentmindedly in the back of your throat, finally removing yourself from his side and placing your bag on the bed. You started rummaging through it for seemingly no reason, “I spose it makes sense.” Your voice was suddenly high and chipper, bright and breakable as a mirror under the sun. “There’s probably more room here than on your ship.”
“...Right,” Rex didn’t know how it happened, but he got the distinct feeling he was standing on uneven ground. Treacherous. Unknown. “Cyare, I-”
“Which side of the bed do you want?” You didn’t turn to look at him. “The same as the one you take at home?”
He couldn’t help it. He flinched, “Actually, I’d prefer the one closest to the door.” The words came tumbling out, even though they weren’t the words he wanted to say. This wasn’t the conversation you were supposed to be having.
You nodded decisively, “Alright then.” The whole exchange was horribly cheerful. You still fiddled, pointedly, with the zipper on your bag.
And the silence that followed stretched for miles. Was this a fight? Technically, the two of you hadn’t had a real fight before, and your attempts to distance yourself now… they hurt. Tentatively, Rex approached you, placing two hands on your shoulders. You were trembling.
“Are you angry with me?” He asked with more confidence than he felt. “You have every right to be.”
You shook your head, “Just… just angry.”
“And scared?” He dared to take a step closer, sliding his gloved hands from your shoulders down to your waist. “And tired?”
You exhaled, a big, suffering thing, but at least some of the tension left your spine, “I feel like a dam that’s about to break. Like one more crack will have me drowning anybody nearby. I just don’t want that to be you.”
Rex leaned down to rest his forehead against your shoulder, “I can take it.” He whispered, and his lips caught against the skin your oversized shirt bared to him. You smelled so good. “I’d take anything from you, honey. I’m not afraid of drowning.”
“I don’t want to break to pieces all over you. You’ve been through enough already.”
He shuddered, and this time the press of his lips against the back of your neck was entirely purposeful, “I’ll put you back together.”
A stifled sob sounded from behind your tightly closed lips, “I almost lost you today.”
“I know, stars, I know,” he should sit you down, talk through your pain rationally, but the decent, noble part of his brain seemed to have checked out, and the manic energy in his blood seemed to find new purpose. “You saved my life, cyare.”
“Can I… admit something ugly?” The words were small, but Rex chased them, leaning forward to nibble at the length of your jaw he could reach.
“Yes.”
“There’s a part of me I don’t like very much that relishes what you did to him,” you confess. “Sitting across from him while he nursed the wounds you dealt him… it gave me all the courage I needed to get him to agree to the deal.”
You were proud of him, Rex realized. You loved him for defending you both. Just as he loved you for facing the person who’d put you in such an impossible position. The thought had his stomach swooping, had his dick hardening, and he knew it shouldn’t.
This wasn’t the sweetness he was used to, wasn’t the light air of comfort your presence usually brought him. This was edged and rocky, uncertain as a lightning storm. It was everything he was always so determined to leave on the battlefield and never bring home to you. And maybe you were stumbling through it too, struggling to adapt to this much apprehension near your relationship.
“I won’t shame you for it,” he mumbled into your ear. The gravel in his voice was a prayer. His grip tightened around you, fingers curling into your shirt.
Your breathing became labored, and you reached back to lay a hand at the base of his skull, “I won’t shame you either, Rex. You did what you did for me, and I will not have you apologize. I know who I’ve chosen to love.”
“Sweetheart,” a full groan escaped him. A tiny scrap of honor, the last one he had left, called out from the depths of his mind. “How are your ribs?”
“Fine,” you place his hand over them, using him to place pressure. “They’re just fine.”
“Your arm?”
“Right as fucking rain,” your tone took on just the smallest bit of annoyance.
“Your head?”
“Better than yours,” you snapped, touching gently at the nice bump Fox had left. “Want to stop and let me examine it?”
Rex growled, and whirled you around to face him, “Not even if it kills me.”
He kissed you like it was the last thing he would ever get to do, like your lips were the only good piece of this shitty, unjust universe. You tasted like worry and tears and redemption, and selfish bastard that he was, he would drink it all.
And one day, he promised himself, on another planet, in another room that was warm and cozy and filled with the scent of you, he would kiss you like this again. He would swoop you up just as you were asking what he’d made for dinner. Your soft skin would still be warm from an afternoon in the garden. You would cup his cheek with a ring on your finger.
Your tongue felt its way into his mouth, and he burned beneath his armor. You moaned openly, reverently, and tugged at the clasps of his chestplate, “Please.”
In the past, Rex had always neatly placed all the pieces of his armor at the foot of your bed before turning to ravish you. Not this time. Plastoid clattered in quick succession to the GAR carpet. The glove stuck to his right hand, congealed blood from hitting Ryesim acting as a morbid red glue, but Rex ripped it away without a thought, some newly healing skin coming with it.
In under a minute he was free, straining manhood bobbing against his abdomen as he seized your face with both hands, dragging it back to his own. Your shirt was next, and your flimsy, comfy bra. Your slip-on shoes flew off your feet as Rex pushed you roughly to the bed.
You whined, topless and needy, your belly a bundle of hot sparks, and grabbed for his biceps. Rex tore down your sweatpants, taking fuzzy socks with them, and came up to rest his hips in between your thighs. He watched, open mouthed, as his cock rubbed against the gathering wetness soaking through your panties.
“Rex…” You whimpered.
He shook his head, trying to clear the fog from his brain, “Do you know how beautiful you are?” He dragged his gaze up from your center, past your stomach and your breasts, along your neck to land on your face. He looked like he wanted to eat you. “Which star did you fall from, angel?”
A pretty blush overtook your cheeks. Even now, ravenous for you, he managed to be sweet. Your eyes began to sting, “You can’t just say things like that.”
“Like what?” He grinned, leaning forward over you ever so slowly. His warm breath ghosted over your chest, and your nipples hardened to greet him. “Like how no one, anywhere, will ever see anything as magnificent as you laid out on a bed, aching to be touched?”
“Rex, love-ah!” You didn’t get the rest of your protest out, because Rex’s tongue laved hot circles around your nipple. He took the other in between his fingers, rolling and pinching, moaning into your breast before releasing it with a pop.
“I promised you I’d make up for lost time,” he said, almost to himself, as he descended upon your other breast. This one he held carefully between his teeth while his still-bloody knuckles trailed down to the apex of your thighs. “We’ve had so much lost time, cyare.”
You whimpered as he stroked you through your panties, the light touches doing everything and nothing at the same time, “Fingers, baby, fingers!”
“Anything you want,” he nipped his way down your stomach as he pulled your panties aside and sunk a finger into your weeping pussy.
You arched your back, hands twisting and scrambling in the sheets. It had been too fucking long.
Rex stared between your spread legs, a man possessed. His pupils were blown wide, his jaw set with determination, mesmerized by your half-covered center as he inserted another finger. You were still wearing too much clothing, he thought, but he decidedly did not want to draw his hand away from you, “Can-can I…?” He swallowed, dry mouth unable to finish the thought.
“Yes!” you cried. “Do it, do whatever you want!”
He swore he didn’t remember doing it, but there was one rip…two rips… and your panties fluttered to the floor, forgotten. Your hips bucked in surprise, and suddenly your perfect, swollen clit peeked up from between your lips. He descended without a second thought.
At the first touch of his mouth to your cunt, you both moaned, voices mingling in the heated air. Rex shivered at your taste, eyes fluttering, and your thighs closed roughly around his ears. He lapped at your weeping entrance, gathering your sweetness onto his tongue before returning to suck on your clit. You hissed and wailed his name, losing your voice entirely once he began curling his fingers just right.
Your orgasm fell upon you hard, cresting faster than you could have expected. Writhing on the simple, rough sheets, you shrieked incomprehensible pleas to the ceiling. Your eyes rolled back, and Rex fucked you gently with his fingers, tonguing your clit with the barest pressure.
“That’s my girl,” he murmured into your pussy. “Gorgeous, magic thing.”
You covered your face, “Fuck, Rex!”
He chuckled, “You can fuck Rex anytime, cyare.”
You groaned at the joke, then sat yourself up on your elbows, “Lay back, I want to ride you.”
His breath hitched, and he gazed longingly back at your center, “But I wasn’t finished.”
“What happened to ‘anything you want?’” You impersonated his voice, quite badly too. “C’mon, captain. I have some pent up feelings to work through, and I want to do it on your cock.”
Well. He certainly wasn’t going to argue with that. Without any further preamble, he hooked your knees on his hips, supported your neck and lower back, and rolled you gracefully across the bed. Dizzy and giggling, you suddenly sat astride him, his dick grinding up the center of your pussy. The most ethereal sight in the galaxy.
You slipped him inside almost too easily, and his head flew back onto the pillows, “Cyare,” he breathed.
You smiled down at him, eyes sparkling, “I love you.” You declared, as easy as breathing, and rocked your hips in a rhythm he was all too glad to join. “Brave man. Kind man. I love you.”
“Ner karta,” he stuttered out, and it became very clear that he wasn’t going to last long like this. It didn’t matter. He was drunk on the feeling of you, the taste of you. Finer and more addicting than any spirit he’d sampled. He would fill your pussy to the brim and then lift you immediately to ride his face instead. Rex would pleasure you until you blacked out on top of him.
This was new too, the intensity of his need to have you, to leave some part of himself with you, in you. A brief, unbidden flash of a possible future blinked before his eyes. You, dressed simply and smiling without worry, lounging and cupping your sweet, rounded stomach-
He came with a broken moan, taken aback not just by the sudden tightening of his balls but also the tears that sprung up in the corners of his eyes. Rex gazed up at you, gasping and a little bit too pleased with yourself.
“Gotcha,” you panted out, desire still evident in every muscle of your body. You were not nearly as boneless as you needed to be.
Rex growled, dragged your squealing form up his body, and settled your bucking hips over his face, “I love you,” he called, locking eyes with you one more time before getting himself hard again on the call of his name from your lips and the taste of him dripping from your cunt.