Work Text:
After the Citadel, Fives comes to his captain with a request.
He'd found his way to Rex's shoebox of an office after rack out, subdued, the way he has been since Echo. Not morose but... Tight; like every part of him is braced against the grief Rex knows is swelling like an abscess at the back of his throat. It's not just his posture, though he stands rigid as a board. The deep brown of his eyes has hardened to coal; expressiveness compressed, pupils a pinprick of pain. The kind of thing that makes Rex want to bleed.
He'd requested to keep Fives with the 501st for a while, around familiar vode rather than alone on some ARC assignment, but he hasn't had much time for him since they've been redeployed to the Outer Rim seiges... The guilt weighs on his own grief, some horrid, sour thing behind his sternum — he doesn't know how to do anything but swallow it.
The only light in the cramped space is the harsh blue glow from Rex's terminal and it catches on the shared bruising of exhaustion under their eyes, makes them both look hollow.
"I spoke to Scratch. About getting some ink for Echo." The words come out in a rush, like vomit.
Rex sets his datapad down.
It's tradition (as much as clones have traditions), to honour the fallen like that. They don't get funerals, don't get gravestones or plaques, and this is one of the few ways they have to memorialise their brothers. Rex is one of the rare veteran clones that doesn't have any ink under their armour, but not for lack of sentiment.
"Okay." He says, even; trying not to put a foot wrong because he knows he's skirting the edge of a minefield here. "You know the drill. Make sure anything big is scheduled so you've got some time to heal up properly."
Fives blinks, then nods. An awkward, jerky incline of his head.
"I, uh." He hesitates. "I'm not asking for your permission. Captain." The honourific comes like an afterthought. Like he's trying to force some distance before the intimacy of what comes next.
"I want your handprint, like his armour..."
"Oh." Now it's Rex's turn to blink.
"Is that...?"
The older clone nods, slow; voice softer, sadder. "Of course."
Rex sits with him the whole time, watching blue ink and blood take shape on Fives' right pectoral. Same as the smear he'd left on Echo's armour on Rishi, the print of his palm on shiny white plastoid...
He'd been touched when he'd kept it on his ARC trooper kit. Proud. Of Echo and Fives both.
The steady buzz of the tattoo liner grates against the headache that's been building between his temples, and he's grateful that Scratch likes quiet when he works, ink-stained gloves pulling Fives' skin taut as he etches Rex's palm into his flesh. He'd been up late the night before, the way he's up late every night, wrapping up reports so he could be here with his friend. Fives hadn't asked him to stay with him, but Rex (and his guilt) knows he needs it.
Fives is just staring at the ceiling, blank. Eyes wet but not because of the pain. His right arm twitches every now and again when the tattoo gun aggravates his nerves, fingers curling inwards in a way that makes Rex want to lay his hand over his and squeeze.
But he doesn't.
Other people's emotions make him feel... Clunky. Awkward and heavy, like trying to heft a Z-6 with one hand.
Fives' most of all.
The weight of the other man's expectations is layered thick over his own; the need for him to be something solid. Unbreakable. Untouchable. He knows that Fives aches for his approval, like Rex aches for his admiration. He worries about it sometimes. How much he wants...
Watching his palm take shape on the other clone's chest, that familiar feeling throbs inside his own. Call it crossed wires, something that sparks. Pride and responsibility bled into admiration into... That.
Fives is bright. Charismatic in a way that draws people in, and Rex is not immune to the magnetic pull of it. The lure of someone who makes you feel like you're standing in a patch of sunlight, just warm all over...
He's tried to gently nudge Fives towards Tup and Dogma, two of the 501st's newer additions, in the hopes that playing ori'vod will keep him occupied. Keep him from melancholy. Keep Rex from... Whatever it is that's made a home between his ribs and kicks at them whenever he thinks about the bloody blue copy of his hand carved into Fives' chest.
It hasn't worked.
Fives has always been present, deliberately drifting into his orbit, but moreso since the Citadel. Seeking comfort or seeking distraction, Rex feels the pressure of it. Of needing to be something he can't.
"D'you think it's my fault?"
The question comes eventually, halfway through a night rotation that neither of them are scheduled for but both of them are working. Insomnia is an old friend for Rex, and Fives had fallen into step beside him as he'd shuffled to the mess and its spluttering caf machine.
He could hear the sound of Fives turning something over in his head, now it's finally dropped down to his tongue.
"No." The answer is immediate and emphatic. "It's not your fault."
Fives just nods, jaw set tight and eyes burning a hole into the canteen tabletop between them, and Rex knows he doesn't believe him.
"All my batchmates are dead."
"I'm sorry." Because there's nothing else he can say, and the silence that follows is heavy enough to crack him open.
"... I lost my batch brothers too."
Fives drags his gaze up from the table to blink at him. It's the first time Rex has told him anything about himself that isn't a war story, and it's almost a relief to see curiosity creeping in over the pain.
"Only three of us survived decanting. It was the first gen days, before the Kaminoans had perfected the process." He drops his eyes to his hands, folded neatly on the table.
Vulnerability doesn't come naturally to him, but for Fives... He wants to try.
"When we hit puberty, one of my batchmates, Akk... He started having these... Blips." That was what he'd called them, at least. Less scary than seizures. Less guilt about hiding them...
"It was just spacing out at first, for a few seconds at a time, but they got... Worse. He had one during training, and... Well. You know what happens to defective clones."
He shrugs, sharp, because there's some things that time can't blunt.
"Then they found out Fry had a heart murmur. Side effect of the growth acceleration." He swallows, the words like bile in his mouth; an old hurt that still tastes sour.
"They were planning to scrap us all. Standard procedure with a faulty batch, and I was already marked as a risk for deviance."
He runs a hand over his shorn blonde hair, almost sheepish.
"I know these things don't map perfectly, but..." He looks back up at Fives now, subdued. "I know what it's like to wonder why you're the one who survived."
The other clone reaches across the table, fingers curling around his forearm; a comfort. Intimate. It's the first time in a long time that he's been touched outside of sparring or combat and Rex can feel the warmth of it, even through his vambraces.
"Does it get better?" Fives asks, thumb tracing absently over the crook of his elbow in a way that makes Rex's pulse leap.
"It gets different. You learn how to live around it."
Silence, and then:
"I miss him so much." Soft through grit teeth. Like it hurts as much as pulling them.
Rex turns his hand slightly, fingers curling around Fives' arm in a mirror of his touch, his comfort.
"Me too."
When he was inducted into the 501st, Fives noticed quickly that Rex never joined them on shore leave.
He spends their downtime how he spends all his time, holed up in his office or temporary quarters on Coruscant's Republic base, buried in his datapad or synthglued to the training room weight rack like he's trying to punish himself; like he can't shut his brain off (or, if Fives is being uncharitable, pull the stick out of his ass). He'd asked Appo about it once but the Sergeant had just shrugged and said something about him being a chronic workaholic.
He keeps an open door policy, but he has walls. An impenetrable fortress, or maybe more like an island. A puzzle Fives can't quite see all the pieces to; but he loves a good problem, something to sink his teeth into, and fuck, does he want to sink his teeth into Rex.
He has done since Rishi. It was more abstract, back then, the appeal of the cocksure captain facade that's as much a defence as his armour. Fives is guilty of it. Of not seeing him under the golden sheen. It had tarnished a little, that night in the mess when Rex had told him about his batch, and after, he's too tired to keep polishing it.
But he kind of likes the scuffs. The imperfections he can only see up close like this.
Fives knows Rex is an... Odd man. He's competent and confident, charismatic, but in a way that keeps space around him. Maybe it's rigidness, because Rex is all rank and responsibility, or maybe it's just... Him.
And Fives wants him.
It's heavier since Echo, more urgent. Rex is something solid, but his brothers had been too. One by one, everything he'd considered certainty has been eroded away by the tide of violence, and he's overflowing with it when the Outer Rim seiges drag them to Ketaris.
Ketaris is a quiet, verdant planet that occupies a strategic position on the Braxant Hyperspace route. It had aligned itself with the CIS at the onset of the war, and the Republic has been... Poking at it ever since.
Rex and Matchstick wait onboard a Nu-class attack shuttle hovering in the void just outside the system, waiting for the latest strike team to return.
At the behest of Chancellor Palpatine, ARC trooper Baxter and Fives were dispatched to 'acquire' data from Ketaris' now defunct university. As far as Rex can tell, the information itself isn't explicitly valuable to the war effort, just old maps and archaeological surveys from the university archives. What the Chancellor wants with them, Rex doesn't know, but he'd phrased it as a personal request to General Skywalker; and who is anyone to refuse the leader of the Republic.
A few hours later, Skywalker had been called away to deal with a skirmish on Okyaab 6. He'd taken Ahsoka with him and left Rex in charge of seeing this through in his stead.
"Package acquired." ARC trooper Baxter's voice comes through the receiver, a touch winded but stable. No signs of distress.
Rex feels the clench in his jaw easing.
"Heading to the rendezvous now," Fives chimes in. "We had to, uh, acquire a new shuttle."
"... Do I even want to know?"
"Probably not, sir." He can hear the grin in Fives' voice, and it encourages a fond one of his own.
"How did you get on with Baxter?"
Him and Fives are alone in the Nu's small cargo bay, the latter perched on a crate, polishing a scorch mark off his helmet.
Rex had asked for a moment with him, just to check in. This was his first ARC assignment without Echo, and as his captain, his friend... He wants to know how he's holding up.
"He's a good soldier." Fives shrugs, expression wry when he looks up at Rex, setting his helmet aside. "Not much of a sense of humour."
"Well, we can't all be comedians." The captain says dryly, and Fives huffs out a weak laugh, running a shaky hand through his hair.
He claps Fives on the shoulder as the younger clone stands, squeezing even though he knows he can't feel it through his pauldron.
"You did good today." Rex tells him, softer than he should.
Fives' hand settles on his shoulder in a mirror of his touch, and he uses his grip as leverage to drag Rex in until their foreheads are pressed together, leaning into each other. A familiar comfort.
The contact stretches into stillness, no sound except the shuttle's engine humming and the steady rhythm of their synced breathing. Warm, grounding, but Fives is still wired with adrenaline, and he can feel the faint tremor of it under his palm. Rex squeezes his shoulder again, like it can soothe his shaking, and the thread Fives' composure was hanging by snaps.
His gloved hand grabs at the nape of Rex's neck, scruffing him like a dog, keeping their foreheads flush as he backs him two steps into a stack of crates. The impact fizzes like Daruvvian champagne, bright and bursting under his skin, sinking hot in his gut as Fives' other hand grips the top of his cuirass, using it as leverage to draw him closer, too close, close enough to kiss, and—
Rex shoves at his chest.
He doesnt let go, but it forces a scant few inches of distance as they just... Stare at each other in the silence that follows.
The air between them is drawn taut, heavy with shared breath and heat. Fives' brows scrunch together, hurt blooming like a bruise as his dark eyes search Rex's face.
"... There are regs about... That." The captain's voice is quiet when he finds it again, like that can muffle the panic cresting like a wave at the back of his throat.
"This isn't Kamino. They're not watching us." Fives' hand tightens on his shoulder, thumb stroking over his jaw, a tenderness that makes his skin crawl because:
"You know what happens to—"
"It's not defective to want—"
"I am not risking—"
"You think we'd be the first?" Fives cuts him off, bordering on condescension. Like he knows something Rex doesn't. It sparks like flint against his pride, makes his edges sharper, snapping:
"I haven't given it much thought."
"You're a terrible liar, captain." Fives' voice is lower now, caught somewhere between velvet and venom. Temptation and torment, though that line is blurring second by second. "Does that mean you've never...?"
"Fives." An obvious warning that the younger clone just ignores.
"So you haven't." There's a tinge of smugness to the statement, like he's relishing it. "I thought you'd have had offers."
Rex's only response is a sullen glare. He feels petulant in his silence but he has no comeback to that. Yes, he's had offers, but not from a vod, and it's a moot point because he'd never accepted any of them anyway...
Like he said, there are regulations; and obedience has always kept him safe. Even after he was spared from being decommissioned with the rest of his batch, he was watched closely for any deviances, and it made him a staunch perfectionist, intolerant of his own failures, dedicated to always doing better. He knows it was that tenacity that had appealed to Alpha-17, that it was why he'd fought the Kaminoans on Rex's termination and insisted he take the cadet under his wing with the Command batch. He was slotted in during ARC training, long after their bonds had formed. They're brothers, they'd welcomed him, but he'd still felt different. Outside. They were bred to be perfect, and he was not.
It hadn't helped that he'd been their vod'ika, the younger brother. A picture of cherubic innocence, obviously other with his head of golden curls (before he'd shorn them off) and a smidge of adolescent baby fat still clinging to his cheeks. His soft appearance had belied the sharpness underneath, and he'd overcompensated by honing himself to a point.
Cody used to rib him for being so severe, but he was fixated on earning his place, so when his vode were busy jerking each other off in the freshers, or whatever else Fives is implying, he was... Not doing that.
He feels like a fumbling cadet again. Out of his depth.
He shoulder-checks Fives when he pushes past him, just to try and restore a little equilibrium. To soothe his aching pride.
After that, Rex... Thinks about it. About what Fives said. About what he's offering. About how close he'd come to indulging that hungry thing that sits behind his sternum and wants.
He should write him up for insubordination, attempted seduction of a superior officer, but he won't.
Instead he stews in it. The self-loathing. The guilt.
He worries it's his fault. That he'd encouraged it. That whatever is wrong in him has bled into Fives, but he'd said that... He'd implied...
What Fives had said about their brothers... Had he really been so preoccupied with his own self-consciousness that he'd never noticed...? Or maybe no one had ever wanted...
It's an uncomfortable feeling, embarrassment. The double humiliation of his ignorance and the hurt he'd seen in Fives' eyes.
Back on the Vigilant, alone in his quarters, Rex goes through the motions of pulling his armour off. Normally he'd be a good soldier and clean it off proper, but he's agitated. Wound too tight for mundanity, or even the self-flagellation of the venator's training rooms.
He groans in frustration as he slumps back on his bed in his blacks, steadfastly ignoring the insistent ache between his thighs that's been there since Fives tried to do... Whatever it was he was trying to do.
His hand presses against his chest, then his stomach, feeling the frantic rise and fall of it.
Arousal has always been just a bodily function to Rex. Touching himself is a perfunctory thing, about taking care of a physical need every now and again rather than pleasure. Desire is a foreign land to him and he doesn't have a map of the terrain. Which is probably why he keeps getting stuck in this same emotional quagmire...
Maybe he should just...
He can still feel it. The weight of Fives' body against his, the heat of him, even through the layers of plastoid. How he'd looked at him, heavy and wanting, like no one ever has...
Rex stares up at the ceiling, like he can pretend he's unaware of his hand drifting down his body.
He'd been so close. Close enough that he could count the dark spread of his lashes. They share the same genetic template, but Rex could swear they're longer than his...
He palms himself through his blacks, eyes fluttering shut as he gives up the pretense.
The pressure is blunt, but it's more than he's had in weeks and his hips buck up into it, his body demanding more as he tries not to think...
He wonders what it would be like to kiss him. All the little differences between them. The scratch of Fives' goatee against the fine stubble that's starting to dust his jaw again... Rex has never kissed anyone before, he's not even really sure how to do it, but he thinks about the pressure of Fives' mouth against his, the warmth of his lips, tasting his breath, his tongue, and his cock throbs. He rocks into his palm, squeezing gently now, head lolling back against the mattress with a dull groan.
It's all dry, dirty friction, like a punishment. The only relief comes when he's leaking enough to slick the inside of his briefs; a filthy glide that makes his hips buck and his toes curl and... Rex whines through grit teeth when he cums, hot and pulsing under the heel of his hand.
He lies there in the aftermath, and burns.
After Ketaris, they're set to head back to Coruscant for a resupply and to gather more personnel before shipping back out. Vendaxa, this time. Deep in the meat grinder of the Expansion Region.
The brief respite is needed; Rex feels like he's coming apart at the seams. Swollen with aching and guilt.
Since the incident in the cargo bay, he's been wound tight - tighter than usual - and it's beginning to show. Ahsoka had remarked on it, that he seems troubled, but he'd brushed her off the way he brushes everyone off. The concern in her eyes had just added to the weight behind his sternum, but this is something he can't share with her.
He feels it sharply, the wedge between him and everyone else. Normally, he'd seek out Fives for solace. Not necessarily to share his thoughts, but for the warmth that comes from his presence; the ease between them that's dissipated now, in the face of Rex's rejection...
There's only one person in the galaxy he trusts with this.
The 212th are joining the Vendaxan campaign, which means Cody will be on Coruscant too, and Rex tracks the Marshal Commander to his office on the docked Negotiator. Buried in his own abysmal stack of busywork. Rex almost feels guilty, for bothering him with something so trivial when he looks so war-worn, but...
"I need to tell you something, and I need you not to laugh." He says in lieu of a greeting, and his ori'vod blinks up at him with tired eyes.
"This should be interesting." Cody says dryly, lowering his datapad and leaning back in his chair.
"I'm serious." He gripes, posting himself up against the cluttered desk as Cody arches a brow, something between surprise and amusement softening his expression as he watches his brother grumble like a cadet.
"Just spit it out, Rex." The older clone sighs, because he knows how he'll talk himself in circles around it otherwise.
Rex makes a quiet, frustrated sound, scrubbing a hand over his shorn hair as he fixes his attention on the floor and confesses:
"One of my men... Propositioned me."
Cody blinks, amusement winning out on his face now, and Rex can feel himself cracking under his brother's scrutiny.
"... I can think of one vod who'd have the guts to do that."
Rex scoffs, the sound sharp and tight. Self-conscious.
"So." Cody presses, and Rex hates how predictable he seems when he asks: "Did you write him up for insubordination?"
Rex grimaces, still avoiding his brother's eyes.
"No."
"But you haven't...?"
"... But you have?" He counters, implying.
Cody shrugs. "Sure."
"Right."
Now it's Cody's time to sigh, clapping Rex on the shoulder as he stands, equal parts patronising and a commiseration.
"C'mon, old boy. Let's get you a drink." He pauses, a wry tilt to his mouth when he adds: "A stiff one."
Rex is only a little buzzed when he drags himself into the warm cocoon of the communal freshers. Whoever had been in before him had turned the heat up high, and the air is heavy with enough steam to give the illusion of privacy, at least. It's not his cramped en-suite on the Vigilant, but 79's has left him feeling sticky; all sweat and sweet liquor he wants to scrub off his skin.
Which means braving the Republic military base's amenities.
The showers are open plan, there's no body shyness when you're all the same, but Rex has become accustomed to having his own space. Still, the liquor dulls his nerves a little. Makes him feel less self-conscious as he strips off his armour and his body glove and sluices himself down under the hot water.
After some gentle ribbing (and several glasses of highball), Cody had given him a healthy dose of perspective, and Rex turns his words over in his head as he goes through the perfunctory process of scrubbing himself clean.
"You know rank isn't an issue, right? Fives is an ARC trooper now, he's not under your direct command." Cody had told him, halfway through nursing their second round.
79's is always loud and packed to the walls; no one was paying them any attention at their cramped little corner table but Rex had still winced at the words.
"I never said who it was."
His brother had given him a look, and Rex had scowled into his drink.
"Kriffing— Don't."
"He's not subtle, Rex."
"... I hadn't noticed until recently." He admitted. "I've never... Considered it an option."
"With Fives?"
"With a vod."
"Huh." Cody intoned, something ticking behind his eyes. "That explains a lot."
"What do you mean?"
"You're borderline neurotic." He'd said pointedly. "Tense."
"And what? Letting one of my men—" He'd gestured vaguely, crudely, "— Will fix that?"
"Might do." He'd seemed unperturbed, borderline amused at Rex's frustration. "Look. It's not unusual, regardless of the regs. You raise an entire population of men together with only each other... Things happen." He'd shrugged, blasé. "And we're built to bond with each other. Makes sense that bond is sometimes more than brotherhood."
Rex had fiddled absently with the rim of his glass, stewing until Cody took pity on him and asked:
"Is it more, for you?"
Like tugging on a thread, it unspooled the knot at the back of his throat. "I... It shouldn't be."
Cody had just looked at him, brow arched as he'd fumbled his way through it.
"Don't look at me like that, osi'kovid."
"You should take him up on his offer."
"You make it sound simple."
"And you overcomplicate things." The older clone shrugged again. "Just don't go calling him riduur in front of your natborns."
Rex had nearly kicked him under the table for that, because Cody has a knack for bringing out the best and the worst in him; making him feel a little more Rex and a little less captain.
Kind of like Fives.
Rex is dragged out of his thoughts by the whoosh of the bathroom door sliding open and the heavy thud of boots on duracrete. Whoever it is takes their time peeling off their kit, and he doesn't pay them much attention until they take the fresher next to his.
He glances over on instinct, because there's a whole room full of showerheads to choose from, and goes rigid when he locks eyes with Fives.
He looks... Tired; and Rex feels it like a punch to the gut.
"... Captain." He says. Soft. Too soft, and any answer sticks in Rex's throat.
The easy intimacy that was there before has dissipated, had died the moment Fives had pressed up against him in the cargo bay and Rex had pushed him away. Now there's something raw in its place. Fives looks at him, and it feels like peeling skin.
It's awkward. Even if they weren't both naked, it would be awkward.
He's made a concerted effort to avoid the other man, but Fives has clearly sought him out, placed himself in his personal space, bare, like he's demanding Rex acknowledge him.
Maybe it's the drink still heating his veins. Maybe it's the fact that he has some abstract permission now, but Rex can't help but follow the path of water down all that warm, dark skin. A few droplets catch in the hair scattered across Fives' chest, and the thick line of it that stretches down his stomach to...
Rex swallows, eyes flicking away and landing on the deep blue imprint of his palm tattooed on Fives' chest.
Fuck.
Something possessive in him throbs. The rest of him is ashamed at that response; at perverting something for the honoured dead.
So of course, his cock fucking twitches.
"Rex..." Fives groans, because of course he fucking sees it...
His movements as he shifts closer are careful, like he's trying not to provoke an angry nexu, and Rex feels the guilt of it, sharply. But then his hand is at the nape of his neck, just like last time, pulling his captain in and kissing him like he'll die if they're not sharing breath.
Fives' mouth is hotter than he'd imagined. Softer, too; warm and wet with shower spray and spit... He tastes like skin and the strange chemical tang of their standard issue toothpaste. Familiar, different on his tongue versus Rex's teeth. He feels clumsy trying to keep pace with Fives' desperation, awkward and failing, but. He feels like he's being swallowed by it; restraint and shame coming apart like he's skimming the edge of a black hole.
His hands grab at Fives' sides, bruising, and the other man moans into his mouth, pressing into him and forcing him back against the slick shower wall like he's scared Rex will try push him away again.
He's shaking when Fives breaks the kiss, panting into the hot, humid air between them.
"... You taste like highball." Fives murmurs, thumb stroking at the edge of his mouth. "Didn't think you were a drinker."
"I can drink." Rex grumbles, a touch defensive.
"Mm." But Fives is already nosing closer, like he's chasing the liquor on his breath. "Always wondered what kinda drunk you'd be."
"M'not drunk."
And Fives isn't listening; slotting their mouths together again, soft and slow, deep and melting, dragging heat into Rex's cheeks, and he just lets him...
His hands are stiff on Fives' waist but the younger man's are fluid, mapping out the shape of his torso, his back, squeezing the narrow line of his hips, smoothing down to palm at his ass. Rex's breath catches, and Fives presses closer with a little huff, slotting his knee between Rex's, his thigh flush to his cock. The pressure makes him ache, makes him leak; smeared against the meat of Fives' inner thigh as the younger man rocks his hips forward in a slow, tentative grind.
His cock rubs against Rex's, all warm, hazy friction, and unlike anything he's felt before. Pleasure swells, a heavy pressure in the pit of his gut and Rex drops his head, panting against his shoulder as Fives pets gently at the nape of his neck, fingers stroking idly over the shorn blonde fuzz of his hair. The shower is still blasting overhead, keeping the air between them heady and dizzying...
The intimacy of it aches, something sunk deep and low under his skin, all that wanting given slow, slick motion that drags the thoughts from his head and replaces them with this. Fives' touch splays wider, thumb brushing the hinge of Rex's jaw and coaxing his head back up like he needs to see. There's no space left between them, not even to breathe, and Fives' next words burn against his mouth.
"Feels good?" His voice is soft but strained, obviously seeking approval, his hand on Rex's hip gripping him harder as he grinds into him.
"... Mir'sheb." Rex mutters, smartass, the insult too breathless to sting as Fives sinks his teeth into his trembling lower lip and tugs.
The noise that leaves him is humiliating, something between choking and a whimper, and Fives' eyes blow dark and wide, hungry as he swallows the sound of it. His mouth trails down from Rex's, mapping his jaw, his throat, teeth dragging blunt over his pulse as he coaxes his head back and bites. It's not enough to break skin, but it's enough to make Rex's cock throb.
He shivers when Fives' lips find the the blaster scar from Saleucami, a splotch of gnarled tissue on the edge of his left pectoral that tingles slightly under the pressure, deadened nerves sparking weakly under his touch. He mouths at it, some desperate, sloppy approximation of a kiss that makes something soft and vital in Rex ache as Fives lingers there, like he's appreciating the juxtaposition of violence and innocence, all the scars on his untouched body...
"Fuck, captain... You're so pretty." He groans, tongue and teeth tracing that same languid path back up his throat.
"Don't call me that." Rex gripes, brows furrowed.
"What? Captain? Or pretty?"
"Both."
"Mm." Fives make a low, noncommittal sound, nosing at the soft patch of skin behind his ear. "But you are pretty, captain."
He leans back just to watch Rex's eye twitch, like he's contemplating violence, and Fives smirks as he presses closer, emboldened now. He kisses the side of his jaw again, slow and lingering, almost chaste in a way that belies the slow creep of his hand down his stomach... But Rex grabs his wrist when he reaches for his cock, keeping him at bay even as they share space and hot, shuddering breath.
"Not ready for that?" Fives asks, low and absent of teasing.
Rex swallows, jaw set tight because he's not the type to surrender — and admitting it would be a surrender, they both know that. So Fives doesn't press the issue. Instead, he twists his wrist out of Rex's grip, fingers looping around his forearm now as he guides his captain's hand towards his own cock.
"Show me how you like it." He tells him, nudging their foreheads together, identical noses brushing, and Rex's cheeks burn; eyes cast to the side, but he hasn't made a move to push Fives away.
"Touch yourself for me." It's more a plea than a demand, Fives' dark eyes burning into Rex's as he cups his jaw, thumbs brushing over his cheeks with the kind of tenderness that makes him ache.
The first few strokes are tentative, trembling; nervousness gripping his guts as tight as pleasure as he works over the head of his cock, soft and loose because any more friction would be too much... But he's already slicking his fingers enough that the glide is maddening, breath stuttering as Fives ducks his head to bite at his throat again. Harder this time, barely low enough to be covered by his blacks and deep enough to bruise. The blunt pain makes something in him throb, turns the drag of his hand sweeter and heady, bliss like hot honey under his skin, coiling heavy and saccharine as he picks up the pace...
He knows he's a wreck, dark skin stained darker with the heat rising in his cheeks, breath desperate and trembling, eyes blown out almost black with need...
Fives curses breathlessly as he presses into him, forehead to forehead now, watching with an intensity that makes Rex burn as he scrunches his eyes shut and fucks his fist. There's no real difference in their anatomy, but the way Fives is looking at him, like he's something precious... It lodges his heart in the back of his throat, pulse leaping violently as he tries to swallow the sounds threatening to escape between his grit teeth.
Fives wraps a hand around his wrist again, stilling his touch, and Rex's eyes fly open, indignation flaring until the other man's fingers close over his, curling into a tight circle around his cock.
"Move your hips..." Fives murmurs, a coax and a command and Rex is so far gone that he just complies.
The first thrust has his lips parting, a soft little moan sticking in the back of his throat, muffled by his tongue as he rocks into their joined hands.
"You look so good..." Fives murmurs, and Rex shivers. He's never been praised like that before, and it drops heat into his core, makes him drip; eyes at half-mast and cock aching as he fucks the tight hole of their linked fingers.
Fives squeezes his hand over his, forcing friction, and Rex makes a short, bitten-off sound that's far too close to a sob for his pride. Fives' other hand drops to grip his hips, kneading the taut muscle there, guiding the slow grind of them as Rex pants into his open mouth.
"You close?" He asks, breathless and low, and Rex nods; jerky, desperate.
"Fuck, let me see it..." Fives groans, pleads, tightening his grip again, making Rex's body jerk. "Let me see you cum..."
The words hit like a gut-punch, bursting the pleasure swelling at the base of his cock, the sharp edge of bliss dragging over him in waves until he's drowning... Rex's other hand releases its death-grip on Fives' waist, flying up to clench in the damp coils of his hair, using his grip as leverage to pull him in for a frantic kiss.
He cums the moment their tongues touch, the glide so hot and wet and pulsing low in his gut as he spills over their hands with a broken grunt, covering Fives' thighs and stomach in streaks of white, dripping down their tangled fingers as he shivers his way through it. He's left panting like a massiff in the aftermath, melting into Fives as the other clone strokes the line of his spine, his hand over Rex's still gently milking the last vestiges of pleasure from him until he's so sensitive it hurts. Rex makes a rough, breathless sound into their kiss, pushing weakly at Fives' wrist until he releases his grip on him, the two of them separating just enough for Rex to see the beatific expression splitting the ARC trooper's lips.
There's something mischevious simmering under all that adoration as Fives' grin spreads wider, taking Rex's dirty hand, and smearing it over his still healing tattoo. His spent cock throbs in response, dark eyes fixated on where his cum clings to the deep blue ink, just him all over Fives' skin...
Fuck.
"That seems... Unsanitary." He rasps out, but Fives is already bringing his fingers up to his lips now, cleaning off the digits and his palm with his tongue, the broad, flat strokes of it obscene. Fives moans, a soft, punched-out sound as he licks his cum off his palm, and Rex is left speechless at the sight. He stares, transfixed as Fives' tongue dips between his index and middle finger, flicking over the webbing in a filthy little tease. It shouldn't seem so salacious after what they've just done, but the sensation sticks in the back of his throat, jammed up against his heartbeat.
The sound of the fresher door opening tears them apart, voices filtering through the haze of steam and afterglow, and Rex's head thumps back against the wall with a frustrated little sigh, watching as Fives rinses the rest of the mess off his hand under the (now lukewarm) water. The younger clone gives him a commiseratory look as he returns to his own showerhead, but he's still grinning like a lothcat with a cream-flavoured asshole when he leans acoss and promises Rex:
"Next time, no interruptions."
Next time gets buried under responsibility. Deployment. Fives is reassigned before they leave Coruscant and Rex spends the next six months scanning the GAR's obituaries, hoping he doesn't see his name.
Then Umbara happens.
And Fives is angry. The incandescent kind.
He'd swallowed it while they were planetside, while there was still work to do, dulling the sharp edge of it with duty, but the campaign is over now and all that's left is... This.
Umbara was a vivisection, it carved him open, and he doesn't know how to shovel his guts back inside.
Hardcase.
Dogma.
He'd had his brothers' barrels levelled at his head; it's a mercy he was spared his brothers' blood on his hands. A mercy that Rex did not receive, and he knows it will be eating his captain alive.
For once, Rex isn't in his office. So Fives guesses the code to his quarters (because the man is sentimental, underneath the stiffness) and lets himself inside. The interior is small. Spartan. Meticulously clean bar the battle-worn armour piled haphazardly beside his bunk. There's a smear of rusted red on one of Rex's gauntlets, but Umbarans don't bleed red.
He can hear the sound of the fresher running, and Rex probably didn't hear him under the spray.
Fives strips off his pauldrons as he waits, stacking them neater than Rex's. His kama comes next, his holsters, his gloves. He's stripped out of the top half of his armour when he hears the water shut off.
Rex doesnt look surprised to see him when he emerges, bare. What he does look is warm and soft and vulnerable; worn down and exhausted. It's been a long time since their encounter in the communal showers back on Coruscant, and the sight of his captain's body uncovered like this makes his brain buzz with static, caught between acrimony and want.
There's no armour for him to hide behind. No rank, no facade. Just a man. Just Rex.
"You were going to let him kill me." The words come low and heavy; spilling out of him, like tar how they darken the space between them. How they stick.
Rex can't look at him, and Fives wants to call him a coward for it, but...
"I tried. To protect you and Jesse..." He pushes back, and Fives knows that, but...
He'd put Tup and Kix in the firing squad. You don't put the medic on the firing squad.
"... But what choice did I have?"
The platitude is like dropping a spark on tibana gas, and Fives explodes.
He sees it flare in Rex's eyes, anger hot enough to scorch his own before it splutters and dies under the weight of his grief. His guilt. He knows Rex is not a pushover, but he will stomach this disrespect because he thinks he deserves it.
And he knows Fives will give it to him.
Fives would give him anything.
Rex lets him get one good hit in before he moves. It's all instinct, rapid-fire muscle memory that has Fives shoved face-first into the wall, shoulder pinned with his arm wrenched behind his back. Fives may be the bulkier of the two now but even stark-fucking-naked, without his armour, he knows Rex has enough experience to lay him out. But that isn't what this is about...
His cock throbs as he looks back over his shoulder at the bruising blooming on the other man's cheekbone. Rex has his mark on him, now he has his mark on Rex.
His captain had bitten through his tongue when he'd punched him. He can see the red of it smeared on his split lower lip; he spits a little blood onto the floor and Fives needs to taste it.
The way he wants him is violent. Consuming.
His dick is swelling inside his codpiece, anger rapidly draining into arousal as Rex keeps him held in place. A reminder of who's in charge, despite Fives' intentions. He tries to force his way free, but it just makes his shoulder joint spark with pain and the older clone pushes him harder into the wall for it.
"Are you going to hit me again?" Rex asks, dull, and it stings.
"You gonna have me shot for it?" Bitter, sharp.
"Fives." His voice is low, frustration wilting under the weight of everything.
Rex loosens his grip enough for him to jerk himself free, and he does, twisting and slumping back against the wall, breathing heavy.
He watches as Rex puts some distance between them, every inch an ache under his skin. This isn't how he'd pictured their reunion, their next time, and it knots up with the rest of the emotions tangled in his gut.
"Let me fuck you." It bursts out of him like vomit, desperate and sour, but he doesn't feel better for getting it out.
"Is that why you're here?" Rex asks flatly, brows furrowing.
"No. But I need it." Fives presses, pressing closer. "Need to know you still trust me."
"I should be the one asking that." Rex pushes back (but not away), subdued in a way that makes Fives want to shake him.
He settles for cupping his jaw, like that can substitute for an answer. His thumb traces over the bruising he left, digging in slightly just to watch Rex wince.
He tastes like blood when Fives kisses him, violent and sweet. He shivers when he bites at his lower lip, too; tonguing the split his knuckles left until his mouth is flooded with it. With Rex. He bites down again, just to hear his captain's breath hitch, just to feel him kiss him back harder. Like he needs it just as much. Like they're both chasing sensation to outrun sorrow.
Fives is desperate to finally touch again, hands greedy as they paw at Rex's chest, palming the meat of his pecs, fingertips brushing over the scattering of downy-soft chest hair between them. His dirty armour rubs against Rex's freshly scrubbed thighs as he clings to him, smearing Umbara back onto his skin.
Bloody lips trail a path down his captain's throat, down, down until he can take a dark nipple between his teeth, tugging until Rex curses and shoves at his shoulder. Fives just digs in deeper, humming in satisfaction as he squeezes his pecs harder, sucking, and Rex's face twists. He only eases up when he yanks at his hair, the sharp gesture sending a shiver of heat straight through Fives' gut.
He latches onto Rex's other nipple with a groan, tonguing at it until it's swollen and puffy, sore enough to make his captain shiver when he kisses it; softer and slower now, looking up at him with dark, half-lidded eyes as he licks between his pecs, mouth trailing lower and lower as he drops to his knees. His armour takes the brunt of the impact, rattling the plastoid as he bites at Rex's stomach, his thighs, following the line of soft golden hair that leads down to his cock...
Rex is already half-hard, and Fives wants so much to taste, but... He needs to mark him. He needs him to be unable to move without feeling him; his teeth sunk into his skin, bruises shaped like the pads of his fingers, things that ache and hurt the way Fives is hurting. He bites his hip first, sucking a purple splotch over the bone, grinding his jaw into it to make it stick. He can feel the meat of it give under his tongue, feels Rex shudder and clutch tighter at his hair as he moans. He only draws back when the motions start to ache, blinking up at his captain as he mouths a frantic path down the v-shaped groove that leads to the apex of his thighs.
He buries his face against the soft skin there, inhaling with a low groan. Rex's hair is darker on his inner thighs, and at the base of his cock; golden, and precious, and he wants...
"Fives..." His name comes quiet, almost tentative as Rex's grip loosens, leaving his scalp tingling. "You don't have to—"
"Want to." He insists, pleads, a touch too desperate for his pride to bear, but... Rex is sinking to his knees with him, kissing him again, sweet and coppery, and Fives shoves him onto his back.
He goes easy, if a bit indignant, but any protests melt into a moan when Fives tugs his thighs apart to bite at them; softer this time, almost gentle as he soothes the sting with his tongue, dragging it up over his sac to the base of his cock. He looks up at Rex with it pressed against his cheek, and his captain looks back at him. Tense. The durasteel under them is cold, but Fives is burning as he kisses up his shaft, slow, messy. Rex watches with hooded eyes, utterly focused on him, fingers twitching against the floor like he can't decide if he wants to touch...
He's thinking too much. Fives doesn't want him to think at all.
"On your stomach, hips up."
Rex blinks down at him, frowning.
"You can't be—"
"Trust me." Maybe he's appealing to his captain's guilt with that one, leveraging it against his own selfish desire. Rex looks at him for a beat, jaw set tight before he complies, and Fives gets the view he's been fantasising about since Rishi.
Dark skin, strong thighs flexing to support his weight, soft golden hair dusted over all that solid muscle...
"Fuck, Rex..." He groans, palming at the firm globes of his ass, spreading it in his hands. He can see the embarrassment painting the tips of the other man's ears, and it just spurs him on, fingers digging in harsh enough that bruises burst under the skin, red that will bloom into a deep, violent purple to match the mark on his hip.
Fives shifts closer, sprawled out on the floor so he can put his weight behind him as he holds Rex open and kisses him. The reaction is instant. Rex stutters and curses, and Fives locks his arms around his lower back so he can't squirm away, pulling him onto his tongue, making him feel it. Fives eats him messy, until he's as slick as split Barabel fruit, spit running down his chin and soaking into the neck of his blacks as he spreads him wider.
He groans when he feels Rex shiver, and shakes his face like a massiff trying to tear meat off a bone, tongue pressed hard and flat over his hole. Rex's hands are curled tight, white-knuckled and shoved between his teeth, his cheek smushed into the ground as he rasps out an incomprehensible curse. Fives smirks at the sound, ducking his head to mouth at the soft bridge of skin just below his hole, laving over it with broad, flat pressure that makes Rex's cock twitch where it's hanging heavy between his thighs.
"F-fucking—" Rex hisses, pressing his palm over his mouth as Fives works his way back up, layering slow, languid kisses over the sensitive skin; his moans half-buried alongside his tongue as he teases the tip of it barely past the tight ring of muscle... Rex's breathing hitches and shatters into a whine. Precum drips from the head of his cock, flushed and throbbing.
Fives uses his hands to hold him open as he draws back, eyes fixed on the barely-there gape from his tongue. The sight of it makes his dick throb, drooling like his mouth as he teases his thumb over the soft furl, just to feel it flutter under his touch. Like it's begging... His other thumb joins it, pressing and spreading before he leans in close and spits against Rex's hole. He hears him choke on a sob. Pleasure or shame, Fives is past caring; he just wants.
His tongue spreads his saliva until it's glistening in the low light, trailing down Rex's taint and onto the floor.
"Could eat you forever..." He groans, and smirks when he feels Rex shake.
His lower half is still armoured, cock crushed up against the inside of his codpiece; a dull, unsatisfying friction that he can't stop chasing now, grinding down against the durasteel floor and whining like a kicked massiff...
The pleasure builds, a burning coil sunk low in his gut and heavy, so heavy... Everything narrows down to the velvet drag of his tongue over Rex's twitching hole; hearing his captain's breath hitch and drip with pleasure for him; feeling his thighs tremble as he fights not to push back on Fives' tongue... It's enough to have him coming undone, cumming untouched inside the unforgiving fabric of his body glove as his hips twitch pathetically against the ground. Cum soaks his blacks, hot and sticky, turning the drag into something slick and messy... His cock aches from the rough stimulation, throbbing weakly inside the hard plastoid codpiece as he keeps going, the pressure bordering on cruel.
"D-did you jus' kriffing—?" Rex's voice, sharp with disbelief, cuts through the opiate haze of his orgasm, and Fives draws back just enough to shoot a sheepish grin at his captain where he's peering back at him over his shoulder.
"Couldn't help it..." Fives groans, tongue already back against Rex's hole, hot and wet and insistent.
Rex makes a soft, choked-off sound, head dropping forward again, bowed under the weight of his own pleasure as Fives reaches a hand around to wrap gently around his dripping cock. He moans when he feels it jerk under his touch, precum coating his fingers as he strokes him fast and loose, not wanting to draw Rex's focus too far away from his tongue.
He's leaking onto the floor, throbbing in Fives' hand as he finally lets go and starts rocking back against his mouth; small, tentative rolls of his hips that turn mindless as he inches closer and closer to release. Fives can feel it as the wave of pleasure starts to crest - can feel the tremor in Rex's thighs as his hole twitches under the flat of his tongue and he bursts across Fives' fingers with a choked off whine. He keeps stroking him through it, until Rex is spent and swaying.
Fives eases his grip, letting Rex slump onto his side before flopping onto his back with a grunt, lying there in the mess. Colour is streaked across his cheeks, cum streaked across his stomach and chest. His spent cock is as flushed as his face, still dripping weakly against his golden happy trail, and all Fives can think is that he needs to taste...
He takes the other man's softening dick in hand, spitting, and stroking it into his cum, slicking his length as he pumps him. Rex groans, leg kicking out weakly on reflex; but Fives pins his forearm over his hips, working his hand faster. He doesn't care that Rex isn't hard again yet, he just takes him into his mouth, whole, and sucks while the older man pants and grabs a fistful of his hair; tugging him closer even as his other hand on Fives' shoulder tries to push him away. He moans around him, and Rex hisses out a curse:
"Osi'kyr!"
But Fives doesn't stop - hollowing his cheeks and whining as he feels Rex's cock twitch against his tongue. It's sloppy, obscene, Rex's eyes are dark and wide and fixed on him... He's a vision; flushed and golden, abdominals spasming weakly like he's fighting the urge to buck up into Fives' mouth, lips parted around air he wishes his captain would let be sounds.
"Thought you were gonna fuck me?" Rex manages to get out eventually, the words fraying at the edges with how Fives is sucking him, pushing forward enough that his cock hits the back of his throat and he gags. The ripple of pressure makes Rex curse again, head lolling back against the floor as Fives pulls off of him with a gratuitous, wet pop.
"I am." He promises, hands pawing at Rex's thighs now as he shifts onto his knees and hikes them over his hips, his own arousal stirring at the weight of them.
He loves Rex's body. All the hard angles and the unexpected softness; like the tender, meaty spot at the tops of his thighs, now adorned with Fives' bite marks, and the plush layer of fat over his pecs... It's an indulgence when he reaches out and grabs at them again, squeezing as he grinds his codpiece against Rex's bare cock. He can't feel it, but his captain can, and he drinks in the sordid little grunt that punches its way out of his perfect chest. He can't feel it, but he needs to...
His hands are shaking now as he fumbles with the seals on his utility belt and the plastoid covering his crotch. He tugs open the flap on his bodysuit, wincing as the recycled air of Rex's quarters hits his aching cock and the mess he'd made grinding against the floor... He's already hard again, harder when Rex's eyes drift down to watch as he strokes himself, the friction of his hand turned warm and sticky by his own cum.
Part of him is tempted to keep going like this. To fuck his fist over Rex's body and paint him with pleasure, but he's waited, wanted, for so long...
"Gotta get you open for me..." Fives murmurs, dropping his cock to drag his slick fingers over the other man's hole, just visible with the angle he has his hips propped at.
"I know how it works." Rex grouses.
"Mm. You've just never done it." That smugness is back in his voice, in the sly tilt of his mouth.
"... Don't look so pleased with yourself." Rex sounds a little more like himself again, starched and stiff, and Fives kisses him for it. Until all the sourness is scraped from his tongue and he's melting under him again.
Rex likes it when he kisses him, he's noticed. Like it stops all the frantic motion in that brilliant head of his, forces him to just feel instead of (over)think, and Fives weaponises it now as he tugs his lower lip between his teeth.
One of the pouches on his abandoned utility belt contains some basic medical supplies, and he rummages awkwardly for a capsule of bacta gel that he bites open and upends onto his fingers. It warms quickly as he rubs them over Rex's soft hole, groaning when the flesh gives under the pressure and he can ease the tip of one digit inside. He's so warm, it makes Fives' head spin and his dick throb as he pushes deeper, sinking in to the second knuckle. Rex's brows furrow, scrunched with something like discomfort, and he leans over and kisses him, gentle at the corner of his mouth.
He knows this is new to him, that it would be easier to have him on his hands and knees, but selfishly he wants to see his face. Wants it to hurt a little. He wants Rex to feel it for days after, in case this is all they get. Nothing is certain in war, and Umbara has shaken something between them. Fives doesn't know if they'll survive it; but for now, they have this.
His lips ghost over Rex's, coaxing his captain's apart with light little touches until they're kissing again; deep and messy, drinking each other in as Fives slowly works him open. His finger is just deep enough to graze that sweet spot, the one that he knows Rex has never explored himself, and he pulls away just enough to watch his face flush and twist with pleasure when Fives presses gently against his prostate.
"F-fuck—!" He hisses, head tipping back against the floor with a dull thud, hips canting up on instinct, clenching around the digit like he's trying to suck it in deeper... They make the same soft, breathless sound when Fives presses his finger in all the way, grinding up against his inner wall to keep that sweet friction against the swell of nerve-rich tissue that has the other clone's thighs twitching.
"Good?" He asks, low and teasing, and Rex gives him a look that would be withering if Fives couldn't feel his insides fluttering around his finger. He curls the digit, just to see Rex's expression melt. He knew his captain wouldn't be the talkative type, but watching him like this, feeling how his body responds to him, is validation enough.
He doesn't have much to compare himself to, but he knows Rex needs to be able to take three of this fingers to fit him inside and he tries to be patient as he opens him, slow and steady, even as every clench of Rex's body, every broken-off sound makes his cock throb. He's already slick with bacta and his own cum, but he gathers the mess from Rex's thighs too, stroking it over himself because he just wants to be covered in him.
They're forehead to forehead when he finally presses inside, swallowing the sound that punches its way from between Rex's grit teeth with an achingly tender kiss as his hands tangle in Fives' hair. Rex is all tight, melting heat, even after being speared on three of Fives' fingers he grips him hard enough that he has to take a moment to be still so he doesn't immediately spill inside him and ruin the moment. Rex's legs are hoisted around his waist and he uses them to drag Fives in closer, the two of them panting into each other's mouths as Fives shifts, leaning his weight down on his elbows so he can cup Rex's jaw; holding him as he struggles to adjust.
Rex's jaw is set hard, eyes scrunched shut, tangled in that gossamer-thin thread between pleasure and pain. He's pulsing around Fives' cock, clenching involuntarily in a way that makes him grunt, body taut against the urge to move.
"Relax." He murmurs, rough with need as his captain's eyes flutter open, pupils blown wide in the half-dark of his quarters. Asking Rex to relax is like asking a sarlacc to spit out its prey, but he tilts his head into Fives' thumb when it brushes the edge of his mouth, like he's trying to.
Rex pushes up slightly, just enough to catch his lips again, a silent demand that Fives immediately obeys. The kiss turns deep and dirty as he rocks his hips, slow and shallow, barely pulling out before pushing back inside. The slick drag makes him moan around Rex's tongue, more sharing breath than a kiss now, and he breaks it to look down; transfixed as he watches himself sink into Rex's body - the soft furl of his hole stretched around him, his insides so hot and pulsing...
He settles back on his knees, spreading his own legs slightly to better support Rex, giving him a perfect view of everything; his torso stretched taut, solid muscle and bruising, back arched in a way that makes Fives salivate. He fucks him like that, deeper now, legs slung around his waist and hips nestled in his lap. He loves watching him like this, how his body responds; cock hard and twitching every time Fives grinds against his sweet spot. He can't resist the desire to touch, to reach out and palm at his chest again, smoothing his hands down Rex's stomach, gripping his waist and squeezing as he pulls him into the rolls of his hips.
Fives keeps moving. Not gentle, but slow; every thrust demanding he feel it.
The plastoid of Fives' armour chafes against Rex's skin, leaving raw red marks at the apex of his thighs that he knows his captain will feel for days after this. Rubbing against his bodyglove, forcing him to think of Fives every time he moves.
His hand trails down Rex's side, grabbing his thigh and hosting it up, forcing his leg to bend at the knee so he can mouth along the side of his foot, nuzzling his ankle, kissing up his calf to his knee... The soft, golden hair tickles his cheek and Fives tilts his head to grin down at Rex as he holds him open like this and grinds in deeper. He knows he's got it right when Rex's cock jerks and spits more precum over his stomach, the older clone's eyes fluttering shut as he bites down on his hand to hide how he keens.
Watching Rex unravel is something divine. His eyes are dark and half-lidded, fixed on Fives' face like he's just as lost in him. Perspiration glitters like starlight on Rex's forehead, pooling dewy at the hollow of his throat. Fives leans in to taste, salt and skin, sucking a tender bruise there in the centre of his clavicle. His tongue drags over it, soothing, then down between his pecs again, lingering on the blaster scar seared into Rex's flesh.
It makes him snap his hips forward harder, desperate; a reminder of how little is guaranteed for them. How close they came to losing it on Umbara. How much he wants despite that. How he wants this, wants Rex; stubborn, stiff, brilliant, his.
Pleasure beats at the base of his spine, heavy and demanding, and he needs to feel Rex surrender to it first. He drops a hand to work at his cock, tight and slow, dragging bliss through him in languid, deliberate, waves until... He says Fives' name when he cums, breathless and wanting as he covers his stomach and squeezes around Fives' cock. He kisses him through it, desperate and sloppy, swallowing Rex's whines as the riptide of release pulls him under. It forces Fives to his elbows, rutting frantically into Rex as his insides milk his cock and he spills into him with a series of soft, shattered gasps.
He stays like that, after; buried deep. The air between them is warm and heavy as he drags his lips along his captain's jaw, just feeling him in the molasses afterglow. Sticky-sweet, sweaty, sated.
The anger buzzing under his skin has muted to a dull hum now, fingers dragging over Rex's shorn hair as he presses their foreheads together until their breathing slows.
It's not forgiveness, but it's something, and he'll cling to it for as long as Rex will let him.