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miseries-mistress · 1 year

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TEMPTATION OF THE UNATTAINABLE | CAPTAIN REX

GIF by kamino-coruscant

Synopsis: You found yourself in the training room on one of your rare days off, not with your lightsaber or the Force but with a blaster. The unfamiliar black, sleek metal was heavy in your hands as if death itself weighed on the trigger. You didn't practice with such a weapon; too barbaric for your tastes, but after a comment Fives made, you wanted to prove him wrong. Blame it on your pride, but you were determined to land a hit on the droids, only, Rex finds you before you can do so.

Warnings: female reader, innuendos, flirting, teasing, fluff. W/C: 1838

Notes: i've had this in my drafts for two months now, i finally finished it and edited it (repost)

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"You know, I'm surprised the great general can't shoot a blaster." You lower the training blaster, looking over your shoulder at Rex entering the training room, his bucket tucked snugly under his arm, still in full armor.

"Can it, Rex," you snap, and he only chuckles in reply. You turn away from him, adjusting your stance as you raise the blaster in steady hands. Anticipating recoil this time, you shoot. It nearly misses the center of the training droid's head, and you sigh.

"You look like you're struggling over there," he comments half-heartedly, leaning against the durasteel wall. You spin on your heels, narrowing your eyes at the infamous captain.

"Rex," you snarl in a warning he does not head but instead strokes your fury with bated breath.

"What? Need some help?" he taunts, and you have half a mind to give him a little push with the Force if it means silencing his snarky attitude that he seems to have only with you. Admittedly, you admire him to a point beyond the relationship of captain and general, but that attitude...you could do without it.

"You know the answer to that." There's that edge in your words, the threat behind them that Rex can't help but stroke. He doesn't know why your bite to every teasing remark riles him as much as it does, but it's addictive the way you push back, makes him feel alive, and he can't get enough of it.

"I want to hear you say it."

"Sadistic piece of shit," you growl, glaring at him.

"Now, that's no way to talk to your captain, especially since you are in such dire need of assistance." Dealing with Anakin's ego is better than this, you think sourly.

"You're an asshole."

"So I've been told."

You huff, rolling your eyes as you stare at his satisfied features. You muster up all the scraps of pride you have left, salvaging what you can before you give in. "Please help me, captain."

His eyes sparkle with pride at his accomplishment. "See, that wasn't so hard now, was it?"

"I hate you," you mutter defeatedly as he approaches you. You feel him behind you so close you can feel his force signature radiating off him like an aura of warmth as he takes his place at your back.

"No, you don't."

Kriff, has his voice always sounded so attractive? It was so smooth and oh-so delightful, you're sure you could never get enough of it.

"May I, general?"

"Just call me by my name, captain, since we're past professionalism at this point," you reply sarcastically, and Rex fights off the temptation to grin, opting for a more teasing tone.

"You as well."

He steps forward, so his armored chest is pressed flush to your back, and the chill from the plastoid seeps into your Jedi robes. You can feel every divot and curve grating against your attire and pushing into your spine, sending an aching pressure through your body.

His gloved hand slides over your waist, and you freeze at the contact, your body stiffening in his firm grasp.

"This okay?" he asks, his tone mixed with mischief? Lust? You couldn't tell. His mouth is close enough to your ear that you can feel his warm breath fanning over the shell of it.

Your mouth dries at his words, and you lick your lips, trying to swallow the lump in your throat. "Y-yeah."

Rex takes your breathless voice as a sign to continue, silently relishing his ability to make you stutter because Maker knows how long he's waited for an opportunity or excuse like this to touch you. To render that pretty mouth of yours speechless, even if it's to help with your poor aim.

His foot slides your feet to the side so they are parallel with your shoulders, and your mind wanders to where else he might spread your legs– Focus, you internally reprimand yourself for letting your thoughts descend into something so vulgar and indecent. You're a Jedi, for fucks sake, and even though you've long since abandoned the rule on attachment, it was entirely unprofessional for you to think of your captain this way.

"Knees bent mesh'la," Rex instructs, his breath ghosting over the column of your neck before he pauses, his body growing taut. There are a couple of beats of silence where Rex can feel his heart hammering out of his chest. You don't react, at least not visibly, to the nickname, and he internally grumbles at his slip-up. He doesn't focus on it too much, considering you don't seem to understand the meaning of the word, but he chastises himself for his lack of restraint for letting something as crucial as that slip from his typically tight lips.

You chose not to say anything about his sudden discomfort despite your curiosity but instead concentrate on his nickname. Mesh'la. It ran off his tongue like honey, sweet with a hint of something more. It obviously was Mando'a; as far as you knew, every clone spoke a bit of it. However, you never imagined it would be spoken to you, especially by the man you so readily esteem, so what did it mean?

"Oh, right, sorry," you trip over your words as you bend your knees to his will. You feel Rex's arm leave your waist as he shadows you, enveloping his body impossibly closer to yours. His gloved hand runs over your skin, working out the rifle's position to the target droids. He's focused. You can tell that much by how his hands remain steady and focused like he is in his nature.

It's the familiarity of the weapon, the ease of it, that helps distract Rex from how close he is to you. Every movement he's made in the last five minutes has been driven by the singular purpose of being closer to you, and there was no way in karking hell that Rex would fumble and let this prime opportunity slip away from him. No way in hell.

"Right there, grip it a little tighter, atta girl." You swallow the growing lump in your throat as a shiver runs down the length of your spine at the utter husk in his voice. It's a low, seductive rumble, so chilling yet inviting, as his lips hover a hair's breadth away from your neck, where your pulse is frantically thundering under your skin. You try, you really do, to push out the thoughts of his soft lips caressing your skin in a gentle kiss, peppering your flesh with his devotion. Instead, you feel your face seethe with heat that engulfs your cheeks and rises all the way to the tips of your ears. Shyness is now muddled with arousal, rendering you unable to form a single strand of thoughts to combat your mounting embarrassment. You can almost feel the stupid smug smirk on his lips as his hands tighten their hold on your waist.

"What? Cat got your tongue?" Bastard. Stupid bastard knows what he's doing to you, yet his advances won't push past the edge of flirtation. No matter how much his mocking remarks and smug rejoinders irk you, you want him– need him- to take a leap off the edge. It's something you yearn for down to your very being for him to cross that path of no return. Relinquishing your friendship would either be the end of it or the start of something new. The risk was high, it always was, but one of you had to make a choice, walk away or pursue the tension rising like a raging storm through your love-struck heart.

You are desperate from the hope he provides you that all of his teasing amounts to something, that he is not playing with your emotions in a game of his ego. It's not in Rex's nature to be so misleading, which inclines you to believe he does share that same sentiment as you, but what do you know when it comes to romance? Your entire life has been spent in a temple with people who would rather die than form an attachment forbidden by the code. You know nothing about your feelings besides how to hide them.

"Shut it, Rex," you grumble, and he chuckles, the sound gravelly and enticing to your lust-plagued mind. His hand scours over your hips, his deft fingers running over the area in a teasing motion. Yet, for all the concentration you render as a Jedi, it proves fruitless. Rex notices your slight tremble and eases you with a gentle whisper, "don't be so nervous."

How are you not supposed to be nervous when he's flirting with repreive?

"Now, see your target?" You force yourself to nod, not trusting your lips to form intelligible words. He moves slightly to your side, removing his right hand from yours. It appears that he forgoes his teasing for instruction, now focused on what he was initially set out to do, but the way he grasps your hips, pulling them back ever so slightly into his cod-piece, you are inclined to believe otherwise.

"Finger on the trigger," he orders, and your body obeys before you have time to think, waiting for your captain's following directive. "There 'ya go. Whenever you're ready."

There's a second of hesitation while you gather your thoughts before you pull the trigger. Rex is luckily behind you and holds you steady at the minuscule jerk the gun gives off. The blast bolt pierces the target, black scarring around the marred hole made on the bullseye. You look back at Rex to find him already staring at you with a brazen simper, his arms crossed over his chest.

"You did good, sweetheart, for a Jedi." You huff and shake your head, taking a last look at your shot before back at him. His arrogance begins to fade into something genuine, and it's impossible to tear your eyes away from his; to let go of the shift in the Force between you two.

Neither of you cared to address the atmosphere you had created in that short instance, and for right now, you don't wish to sour the mood with the taste of reality. Yet, nothing felt as perfect as staring into those bright amber eyes, reflecting a future you could only crave.

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