i wish i could hug a cow

Two years. It's been two years since you found yourself scurrying home half-dressed, and red in the face as you stumble past Samantha in the hotel lobby. Two years and three months since you avoided her confused-ridden gaze, pondering what you were doing at the same hotel as her and Rex. Two years, three months, and eight days, to be exact, since you last saw the actor.

You'd blocked him immediately after, turned off the TV whenever Invincible came on, and outright avoided everything about him. The article you were supposed to write on the premiere never even saw its first word. You swore to never speak to, nor of Rex Sloan ever again.

So, as to why you're sitting in front of him, enjoying a nice steak at a fancy restaurant? You could never really find the answer to.

He thought himself a hot lucky bastard, and it didn’t take much time for him to make it painfully obvious.

You sat cross legged across the actor in a quiet, fancy steakhouse. The best in your city. The redhead babbled on and on about his work, how the latest season was coming out, and all the interviews and fan mail he’s been getting. None of it was really registering, you couldn't give a shit.

“You loved me in it, didn't ‘ya?” his grating timbre cut through your busy mind as you fiddled with your glass of wine. “Excuse me?” your brows furrowed and raised. Rex's cocky smirk melts away momentarily from your reaction, forming right back as he scoffs and starts slicing through his steak.

“Don't act like you didn't,” he brings the fork to his mouth. “I mean, you wouldn't be here if you didn't still want me” He winks.

He fucking winks.

Your wine glass slams onto the table, the impact wipes the smugness off his face. “What the fuck do you take me for, Sloan?” you’re grabbing your purse. He immediately drops his fork, “Oh, no! No, no–I didn’t mean it like that, I–” You cut him off “Absolutely not, we are not doing this.”

The chair makes a loud squeak as you push against the table. “Don’t ever fucking talk to me again!” you grab your coat, and storm off. Heels clicked and thumped with every step you took away from the redhead.

Rex tried to chase after you, but stopped himself when you slammed the door behind you. He stood there, in the middle of a nice restaurant–where people probably knew him by name–embarrassed and dumbfounded. Running away crossed his mind, but that would only ruin his reputation further. What the press would say in the morning already terrifies him enough.

Instead, he pays in cash with a 70% tip, asking the waiter to not mention the situation to anyone. Before leaving, Rex notices a ring you had left behind in your hurry. Without much thought, he slips it in his pocket before going.

Rex’s walk back home was cold. The air was too chilly for comfort, biting at the tanned actor’s skin. He presses his hands into his denim pockets hoping to get some warmth. The sharp edges of your ring’s gemstone brushes against his fingers, the sensation reminding him of you. You and ‘your sharp edges’, he thought.

The thought brings him warmth.

That night, the actor laid in bed, analyzing your ring in between his index and thumb. He tutted, pondering whether or not to try and message you again to give it back. You’ve probably already blocked him. With an exasperated sigh, he rolls around on his chest and buries his head in his pillow. The look on your face replays in his head, over and over again.

“Sloan, you piece of shit…” he mutters to himself, words muffled in his pillow. You looked so disappointed in him, so angry. He hated it and what it said about him; how true your anger was, how warranted it is.

More of a reason to return the ring.

Rex sobs himself to sleep, thinking 'nothing I do is ever good'.

“Oh, so you’re a thief now too?” your arms are crossed, and your face is in a scowl. Rex’s face immediately dropped, grimacing.

 That following week, you met with Rex again. After him persistently insisting on a better second date, you caved in and said yes. You figured you could squeeze out another free meal out of the man.

He stood patiently outside of what used to be the small apartment you two shared, holding an extravagant arrangement of your favorite flowers. The redhead was well dressed, hair pulled back into a neat bun, and held the bouquet out to you as soon as you came out. “I’m sorry for last time” he seemed earnest, at least. 

It was a sight for sore eyes, ‘does he really think he can convince me to sleep with him with just flowers?’ You rolled your eyes and reluctantly accepted the over-the-top floral gift.

This time, your date was a hearty lunch at a local Mediterranean cafe, just a short walk away. In their alfresco seating, you and your redhead date ate under a light blue parasol. For the most part, it was silent after ordering and until the meals had been served.

You were playing around the plated salad when he finally started “‘Been up to anything lately?” Avoiding his gaze, you ponder whether or not the date was a mistake to begin with, “What’s it to you, Sloan?”

“Can’t I ask my pretty date what she’s been up to?” you look up to see a soft smile plastered on the actor’s face. It catches you off guard, he’s never been too interested in your life. It makes you wonder what his true motives are.

“Pretty?” the remark makes you sneer, “If this is your sad attempt at getting me in your bed, it is not happening.” The actor groans ‘oh my god’, letting his head fall back as he drags his palm down his face. “Please stop being a bitch and just tell me about your day”

 “What did you just call me?”

 “You know what I said.”

“Oh, wow.” The situation was so unbelievable, you could almost laugh. When you grab your bag to leave, Rex gets a hold of your arm. “Please don’t go again” he pleads with bright green puppy eyes. If you were just a little bit more star struck, you might have fallen for his act. 

But maybe you are, because the way he looks at you makes your heart ache. The curve of his lips as he pouts, the crinkle between his eyebrows, and the glimmer in his eye. They make you feel… Weak?

So weak in fact, that you sit down. ’What is going on with you?’ you’re taking a sip of water to recuperate your thoughts. “You don’t get to fucking call me that, Sloan”

“I’m sorry, really, I’m trying.”

 “Not hard enough.” 

 Rex almost fucked that one up again. He promised himself that he’d change after his life fell apart a few months ago, that he'd be a better person. A better man.

 So when you give him another shot to tell him about your day, Rex listens. He really listens. The actor sits there, chin resting on his palm, nodding through every detail you share. In fact, he doesn’t say much of anything outside of responses to your stories, and sharing laughs at your jokes. No, nothing of himself.

He doesn’t think you’d be interested anyway, his actor charm seemingly melting away when he’s in front of you. Around you, he feels weak.

 As the date comes to a close, Rex stops you outside, hesitating and shuffling on his feet. He digs into his pocket, searching for something; and holding it in his hand. “I know I was a dick, last time,” pausing “and today” Outstretched, in his palm, was your ring. “I’m real sorry.”

“Oh, so you’re a thief now too?” your arms are crossed, and your face is in a scowl. Rex’s face immediately dropped, cringing. His shoulders rode up, hands raised “–I know it looks bad, but I swear, you left and–wait, are you laughing?”

 You couldn’t help yourself, the look of guilt on his face was just so precious, Rex was so pitiful. His tensed body finally relaxes when he realizes.

“I’m fucking with you!” you managed to choke out in between laughs, doubled over and hysterical, “Obviously I’d notice my favorite ring missing” You stabilized yourself with one hand on his shoulder. “Took you long enough to bring it back” looking up at your date, he’s blushed red with embarrassment, lips upturned into a wry smile

 “You’re so mean” with a chuckle. He nudges you away, removing your hand on his shoulder, and placing it into his. Rex drops the ring in your palm. He stays like that for a while, holding hands and looking deep into your eyes. The image burns itself into the crevices of your soul, it's like he’s looking right inside you. Could he see how nervous he’s making you? His face was hard to discern. It sends chills down your spine, so you let go of him. 

The atmosphere is dampened, silence replaced the laughter that filled the air just a moment ago. Rex jumps when he looks at his watch, “Shit, I’ve gotta go” eyes wide. He pulls you into a quick hug, and rushes away, yelling from a distance “I’m sorry! I’ll make it up to you!”

You watch him as he disappears into the city, walking to who knows where. The urban-scape  looks just a little brighter as you walk back to your office, you chalk it up to ‘must be the summer’.

The next morning, your doorbell rings and is followed by three loud knocks, waking you up. The bright warm glow of the sun peeking through your sheer white curtains blind your eyes as you open them. ‘God, who is even up at this hour on a Saturday?’ You scramble together a loose shirt and shorts before making your way to the door.

Rex alternates standing anxiously, pacing around, and deciding whether or not it's appropriate to knock again. He worries he’s just wasting your time, that you’d probably tell him off and to go home. So lost in his thoughts and pacing in circles, he hadn’t noticed you leaning against your door frame.

“Sloan?” your voice echoes into the empty corridor, still hoarse from just waking. The footsteps stop, and the redhead’s eyes trail up from the ground towards you. Your hair was down, shirt hung loosely against your figure, slippers on. His mouth opened, but he struggled to find the right words;

 ‘Hello, gorgeous’ was creepy. ‘Good morning, beautiful’ is way too forward. ‘You look smoking, babe’ nope, absolutely not.

 “C’come in?” was all he could sputter out. It was laughable, but it was way too early in the morning to entertain. You roll your eyes, and reach to close the door. “Wait, wait!” the actor almost topples over in an attempt to stop you, “I wanted to make you breakfast!” He raises the grocery bag in his hand. It was full and heavy. Peeking out over the top was another, less extravagant, but still impressive, bouquet of flowers.

“Fine” you turn into the apartment, needing to crawl back into the comforts of your bed, too sleepy to really be bothered by his presence, just for now. The actor follows behind.

You hadn’t changed too much, he still knew his way around the space and its small quirks that were ingrained into the back of his mind. Like how the door needs to be pushed close twice to actually really close; and how he has to move a few inches to his right every time he enters the small open-kitchen because the island jutted out just far enough for him to hit his hip on it. 

A vase sat on your bedside table with the bouquet of flowers he got you yesterday. That was new. 

Morning air fills the cramped apartment when you open the window. Immediately after, you snuggle back into the comforts of your bed that was situated right under it; quickly dozing off into sleep again.

You looked so peaceful.

Rex busied himself in your kitchen, though he caught himself getting lost in his thoughts as he looked at you every now and then. 

‘Have you always looked this pretty? Was he so absent that he hadn’t noticed all this time?’ his thoughts plagued him.

It wasn’t long before you had woken up again. The dulcet smell of freshly made breakfast, and your ex humming a tune were an odd combination of things to rise to.

You made your way to the kitchen, Rex’s back still towards you. “Why are you here?” you ask, situating yourself a spot on the dining table.

“Oh hey, you're up” That tune again.

“Don’t you have a girlfriend?”

Rex paused his humming, frozen where he was standing. A few beats later “I made pancakes!” he turns around, presenting two plates of pancakes with a big, toothy grin and a ‘ta-da!’

You didn’t press further.

Two plates of golden pancakes served with whipped cream, berries, and two cups of hot tea; laid out on your table. In all the years you’d been with Rex, you have never seen him cook anything outside of a cup of noodles. It was delightful, sure, but suspicious.

As the actor takes the seat in front of you, the view pulls at your heartstrings. You can’t remember the last time you were eating breakfast like this.

 Breakfasts had been so lonely as of late.

You were forking a slice of your pancake in silence when you finally broke it; “Why are you here, Rex?” He stops chewing, responding with his mouth full “... To make you breakfast?” delivered with a shrug. If your face could drop any more, it would, ‘was he always an idiot?’

 You take another bite, “Seriously, why have you been so insistent on seeing me all of the sudden?”

 “I just am, I guess…”

 “You’re what?”

“Drawn to you” you look up and his eyes meet yours. He was serious, lips curled to a smile that dripped with sincerity.

You chuckle, forking another slice before saying “Guess I can’t shake you off, huh?” “Oh, not that you’d want to anyway” His response earns him a glare that freezes the grin on his smug face. It seemed like every time Rex took one step forward, he took two back.

Bitterness fills your mouth, and your face contorts with it. 

The pancakes were burnt underneath.

When he finally left, around noon, you found yourself staring up at your ceiling. Bed, still messy from where you had been just lounging and talking. Your body felt like it had spent all of the laughter it could muster for a month in just two days; exhausted, but content. Not too long after that, your phone started to blow up with messages.

And it was exactly the same for a whole month after. You talked to him almost every single day. Rex crept into your life and routine, so slowly that you hadn’t even realized how normal it was getting. Only when you found yourself in the office getting pried about this Rex Sloan actor going on ‘secret dates’ did you really notice. Your co-workers gossiped about their latest celebrity crush, particularly the hot-head from that TV show; and you found yourself turning your phone upside down on your desk, so no one can see who you’re really texting.

At nights, you found yourself giggling, staying up at night calling, talking about your day and sharing jabs at each other. In the mornings, checking for new messages had become part of your routine again, when it hadn’t in so long. 

He pampers you with sweet nothings, and takes you out on surprise dates. He makes you sick with each saccharine-coated compliment.

But every time it gets too real, you want to pull away. 

You could never really get over it, how he looked that night behind the rose-tint of your sixth cocktail. How the sweat glimmered on his skin as you shared a dance. The blinding light of the hotel corridors when he kicked you out.

And Samantha.

Every time it gets too real, you’re reminded of who Rex really is. You could never really trust a man like him again. So why, when he keeps asking to get back together, can you not just say no?

Way too fucking real.

It kills him too, no matter what he does for you, it does him no good. Rex stays up just a couple hours longer after you send your last message, every single night. Reminiscing on your hips swaying to your favorite song, the dress you wore, and how it rode up your thigh. Replaying that night, how your lips crashed into his as soon as the hotel door closed, your back arching when he–.

Rex was panting. He wasn’t sure when it had gotten so hot in his room, or when he had started sweating. His palm rubbed against his boxers; he wasn’t sure when that had gotten so hard either. The sounds you made as he fucked into you were just ethereal, clear as day in his mind. His phone falls out of his hand as his head dips deeper into his pillow. He couldn’t help the moans that escaped him. In fact, he couldn’t help any of this. The memory of your pussy pulling his cock into you rushes blood down his body. He kept his eyes on where you two connected, how your cum glistened against the light every time he pulled out. It drove him crazy. 

No, he couldn’t help taking his cock into his hands either. His grip barely matched how tight you felt. Pumping it so hard and so fast he’s practically fisting it. His back arches as he pictures your hair tangled in between his fingers, free hand digging into his blanket just to remember how it feels. The way you begged for him, needed him, your body didn’t lie.

The redhead was so close, his whole body tensed, toes curling, reaching for his climax.

But the look on your face when he tossed you a towel. The tears in your eyes that you held back as you left. And the quiet he had to sit in with his thoughts, completely alone.

‘Fuck’ the way the memory replays in his head makes him sick. He hated how he thought about you at every waking moment, and the reality that it's no longer just driven by lust, but laced something more. 

He’s disgusted by how he could even be thinking of you so lewdly right now.

Now he thinks his messages and blatant attempts are pathetic, especially when you turn him down. He’s Rex fucking Splode from Invincible, he could have anyone he wants. So why, when you say good morning to him, he can’t help but ask what you dreamt about? And why does he wish you’d say you dreamt of him, every single time?

When you ask him to try harder, he does; even when he knows that no matter what he does, it does you no good.

The actor turns in his bed instead of finishing. He doesn’t even think he deserves it anymore. 

Weekly dates, occasional breakfast and lunch meet-ups, turned into something you had every other day. On some, he’d pick you up from work and drive you to a nice restaurant; on others, he'd walk you to after a hearty breakfast. However, there were days the actor just didn’t show at all without leaving a message, only apologizing the late morning after.

You two were ‘nothing’, going as far as attempting to convince yourself you weren't even really friends. On those days, you felt sourness boiling in your stomach; the kind of sour that bubbles up to your heart and leaves you gloomy for the rest of the day. You had even gone to the doctors for heartburn, but they found nothing.

It was just disappointment, and you hated how hot it brewed inside you. In your hatred, you’d started writing a list of all the things you’d started to dislike.

First, he wormed his way back into your life, like the parasite that he is.

You stopped being able to cook your own meals, because he’d always ask you out to fancy dinners. When you weren’t eating out, he was cooking. And god, was he a lousy cook, ‘was he trying to poison you?’ ran through your mind every time he served a burnt dish.

You stopped cleaning up too. The redhead always seemed to pick up after himself now, and when he couldn’t, he’d hire a cleaning maid to come by. 

Worst of all are the flowers. They littered your apartment as he wouldn’t stop buying you one every time you saw him. After the fourth bouquet, you had to beg him to settle down, that you couldn’t possibly find any more space for them. That’s when he started getting you stems instead.

They were the prettiest ones you’d ever seen too.

The flowers crawled along every surface of your apartment, multiple vases and pots along your windowsills, shelves, and tables.

They were a constant reminder of the actor, how much he’s ‘pretending to have changed’.

Four bouquets, forty-eight flowers, and the forty-ninth is a white tulip in Rex’s hand. The actor presses a kiss on your cheek as he hands the stem to you.

“You make a good morning even greater, beautifu–” “Uh-huh, sure” cutting him off, you turn inside your apartment, placing the tulip on the dining table as you pass it. You hear the door hit the frame, squeak open, then slam shut. Its lock clicks behind you. Rex puts down your coffees, pastries, and his keys on the table as he follows you in. 

You plop onto your couch, turning on the TV to catch up on whatever news the morning has for you. Rex hovers, not daring to step past the sacred space dividing him and you, a rug, uninvited. It was way too early, the sun hasn’t set its blinding eyes onto your side of the world yet.

If the TV could scream from the pain of your irises burning into its screen, it would. You kept your eyes on the moving pixels, avoiding the redhead’s. “Did I do something wrong?” he finally asks, defeated. Still glued onto the TV, “Why would you think so?”

“You just–I don’t know…”

You finally look at him with a long sigh. Rex’s shoulders are slumped over, his hands in his pockets, moping. “Did you not want me around for breakfast today?

“I could just leave if you want me to”

Your gaze falls, unsure of what to say. He really hasn’t done anything wrong, and your hate-list only proves so. The disappointment just wouldn’t leave you.

“No, please stay” you barely whisper. Begging felt humiliating, but the guilt of treating him so poorly just now was worse than anything else. You continued, “I’m sorry, I guess it's just a bad morning”

The actor almost immediately brightens up, sharing with you small anecdotes about his day. The cafe he stopped by this morning had the most beautiful assortment of pastries, and he just couldn’t decide on which to get you. So he got you one of each.

You shared the pastries on your balcony, the dark hue of the sky just barely meeting the first light of the day. Cold wind blowing in your hair, morning dew, and hot coffee; all at once with the same man you’d fallen in love with in high school, whom you’d sworn against.

The croissants ended up being your favorite, the rest were just a bit too sweet for so early.

“Think we should go” you’re dusting off the crumbs from your shirt, scooting the stool away from the table that hangs from your balcony railing. The most adorable smile is plastered all over Rex’s face as he watches you “How ‘bout I bring ‘ya to a cocktail lounge tonight?”

The weather was bright and warm, summer was approaching and you could feel it in the warmth between yours and the redhead's hand. He held onto you like you'd fall out of his grasp at any minute, and it scared him. When you finally arrived at your office building, Rex didn't immediately let go.

“I have an audition to go to” his fingers brush against your palm as his hand slips away, “I promise to pick you up as soon as it's over” the sensation is electric, like heat traveling between your bodies. It sends shivers down your spine.

You nod, cheeks burning from the smile you hadn't realized was on your face. The eye contact between you and the actor refused to break, even when your body was screaming for you to start moving. Screaming that you were late. Screaming.

Screaming breaks the line that was tethering you to the redhead, “Oh my god! Is that Rex Sloan!?” 

You had to stay behind at work for half an hour, jammed with articles to copyright. As soon as your shift ended, you looked for Rex immediately. It felt so wrong to be excited to see him again, but the past month has really made you rethink things. Suddenly, having him around doesn’t seem half as bad any more. On a bench nearby, you spot the redhead sitting quietly. In his hand he holds a single tropical flower blossom, one he’s never given you before. He twists it between his fingers deep in thought, his face unreadable. Beside him is a shopping bag. 

“Sloan!” when you called out to him, he immediately lit up with a smile on his face. He meets you halfway with a tight hug, squeezing you just one more time before he finally lets go. “I was worried I had already missed you”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t message you”

“It's alright, I’m just glad to see my girl” when the words left his mouth, he clasped it with both hands, eyes wide. “Sorry!”

You nudge him with a chuckle, “Your girl, huh?” raising an eyebrow. After a short, awkward pause, you ask “Where are you taking me out?” Rex doesn’t respond. Instead, his eyes drop to his feet and he blows a whistle. “... So, the thing is” he trails off, hoping to delay his next few words.

The change in the actor’s demeanor makes your palms clammy and heart pound. You could only think of the worst; ‘Rex has a girlfriend, whatever you two had is finally over’. The air around him feels just a little bit more chilly than it had been before, and you instinctively distance yourself from him. The redhead might be clueless sometimes, but he isn’t a complete idiot. He notices the step back you took, the tears welling in your eyes, and the wall that was forming between you.

“No–no, I just need to take you back to my condo”

SMACK!

Suddenly the cold between you two felt really hot, especially on Rex’s cheek. “What the fuck do you take me for, Sloan!?” His mouth falls agape, hand caressing the spot where yours had just met his face. “Did you really think I’d fall for this shtick again?

That you could just worm–back into my life–to fuck–what even are we!?” your voice falters, forcing the words out felt like they were burning you alive. Rage seeped out of your skin, sticky, gluing you to where you were. And Rex? Rex just stood there, eyes wide.

Only when you finally turned your back on him, was he able to take your hand and pull you back. “Sorry, please,” your name falls out his mouth like a plea “That came out all wrong” “Then what the hell were you supposed to say, Rex?”

He holds out the bag to you, “A change of clothes, that's all!” Rex begged. “I’ll stay outside the whole time, I promise!" The stars must have really aligned in his favor that night, because you couldn't help but melt for him. Years on self-work, therapy, and actively cutting the redhead out of your life; all crumbling, and you couldn't care any less. You snatch the bag from his hand "Fine, but don't pull shit on me, Sloan. Or you'll never hear from me again."

The actor didn't lie when he told you his condo was just an 8 minute walk away, it was just barely a trek away from your office. You wondered if he got that condo specifically because it was so close to where you were, but you'd never directly ask him that.

A tall, stunning, high-rise building lay before you. Intimidating doesn't cover it, the difference between you and the actor's life now stark and noticing it is unavoidable. You take the elevator up to the penthouse, this being the first time you've even been in one. Rex wasn't wrong, he really was 'too big now for your relationship'.

Now, 'staying outside' wasn't quite straight forward for Sloan's penthouse. The elevator doors opened straight into his unit, leaving no space to be truly "outside". Huge was, again, another understatement. The ceilings were so high, practically every light fixture was a chandelier. Right in the middle is a large sunken living room with a fireplace. Brown, gold, and black littered the space, every piece of furniture seemingly picked out from a magazine. It was warm.

But not warm enough to fill the cold spaces Rex has to live with. A successful actor with a large penthouse, all alone.

Rex insisted on giving you space, sitting quietly in the conversation pit. The couch so big it looked like he was engulfed in the cushions. Leaving you to explore the unit on your own and find a space to get dressed in private.

It was all so foreign to you, a home that didn't require you to mold into it; no tight spaces to squeeze into, awfully placed windows, and doors that needed an extra kick to close. You gravitated towards the first door you find, opening into a spacious bedroom. Floor-to-ceiling windows, fuzzy carpeted flooring, and a nice king-sized bed in the middle of it all. Fitted with dark grey sheets and a comforter, the mattress was soft and had a bounce to it when you set your full weight down. You couldn't help but notice how clean it all was, in fact, clinically clean. The whole place looked barely lived in.

The only bit of mess anywhere you could find were on the bedside table. A scattered stack of business cards for florists. Which reminds you of what you were here for, a change of clothes.

Inside the shopping bag was something that made your heart twist, and your stomach fill with butterflies. A satin dress in your favorite color, and a note.

"For the prettiest girl in my life"

The article fit you snuggly, tight and loose in all the right places. Just like it was made for you.

Rex's face drops as soon as he sees you—you were the most beautiful thing he's ever laid eyes on. Eyes that once wandered about your figure, now just glued to lips. He shakily breathes out a "wow" before stepping up to you and placing the tropical flower behind your ear. "You look amazing"

 The cocktail lounge was right in front of his condo, you can't help but think 'how convenient'.

Dim, warm candle-lit tables, chandeliers that glimmered with crystals, a quiet jazz band playing, and red velvet cushioned booths. To no surprise, Rex already has reservation, a table for two and cocktails ordered in advance. It wasn't like anything you've had before, coming in a stout whiskey glass, light brown, sweet, with a skewered slice of caramelized banana on top. The actor had the same.

This place was more extravagant than anything your ex had taken you to before, yet more peaceful too. "D'ya like it?" the redhead smiles, pointing at your glass. You love it, but you take a beat before responding "sweet, like you, Rex" His face turns crimson red and he stammers, tripping over his own words "I, uh—tha… you—hah" rubbing the back of his neck.

Was he always this cute?

Eventually your date regained his composure by clearing his throat "How was work?" he starts. Rex wasn't ever too good at small talk, although it seems like when it came to you, he didn't mind striking it. And these past few months have proved that he really listens when does ask.

So you ramble on and on about your day. Eventually you ended up on how the girls who saw you with him pestered you all day about what you two were. "Well, what are we?" he perks up with a smirk, a palm extended out you. "I don't know, what do you want us to be?" You place yours in his gently. Softly, in a lower register, the actor responds "Doesn't matter, I just want to be yours"

And just as if planned, your favorite song comes on "Care to dance with me?" the redhead stands, your hand still in his. You follow suit with an "Of course" Rex flashes a wink at the waiter who was paid extra in advance to get the band to play it.

With both his hands on your waist, and yours resting on his shoulder, you sway in unison to the beat. His hold on you easing away any bit of worry you ever had that day. The world was still. No office to rush to cutting dates short, no mind to the cold bed you'll crawl into. Its just you and his green eyes.

"Well, how long?" the way your eyes sparkle as you look up at him makes Rex's knees buckle. He spends this whole time pressed against you, dancing, hoping you wouldn't notice the erratic pace of his heartbeat. "Hm?" his eyebrow perks up

"How long are you willing to wait to be mine?"

"For the rest of my life, I guess"

And he's frozen. You leaned in and kissed him. You actually kissed him. Rex melts into your soft lips, strong arms pulling you in even closer. He's one lucky man for a beautiful woman like you to kiss him, he'd be a fool not to relish the moment.

Rex stands in your doorway, taking one good look at you before he turns to go home. He chuckles to himself, the world is blurry to him, but right now you are crystal clear. “Come in, sober up with tea” you turn back towards him, gesturing to join you inside. He thinks about it, but knows he's already overstayed his welcome “I'll make it home just fine, pretty thing” flashing you an earnest smile before reaching for your door. 

"You are one stubborn man, Sloan" you pull him in by his waist. The actor laughs "Woah—Okay, okay!" hands in the air surrendering to you.

And so hot tea is made, candles are lit, and a movie is played, but none of it is paid any mind when the actor has his mouth all over yours. Hands searching each other's bodies, hoping to find reasons to stop. Only finding reasons to keep going.

"Are you sure about this?" He asks gasping for breath. You pull him back in, one hand up his shirt. Tracing his toned torso, hard against your palm. "You complaining?"

"No, ma'am" delivered so serious and dripping with ecstasy. With no hesitation, Rex hikes up your dress, digits inching towards your panties. He pulls them to the side, dipping two fingers into your entrance. You gasp at the contact, having not realized you were aching for them all night.

"This wet, all f'me?" Rex asks under his breath, almost out of it with excitement. Rex presses against your spot, thumb rubbing small circles against your clit. You tremble, the sensation sending shivers up your spine. "You—hah, you know it, mmh" you rasped out between moans.

The redhead refuses to break eye contact with you as he sets his pace, fingers tenderly pumping in and out of you. The tempo is slow; Rex, savouring the moment. "Feel good, baby?" He coos, peppering your neck with hot kisses. You nod with a hand to your mouth to stifle moans.

"Let me make you feel even better, mama" Rex kneels in front of you, head between your legs. He licks through your clothed cunt, mouth latched onto your clit. Sucking through the fabric that separates you and him, all the while eagerly fingering you. His pace quickens, "So fucking pretty, baby" he purrs.

Rex pulls you so close to the edge, tipping you over, blood pumping through your veins. Your fingers pull at his bundled hair, messy and tangled. Hips, arching into him, fucking his face. His free hand busies itself with the inside of your thigh, massaging it. Time almost slows, every lap of his tongue sending static to your brain.

"Rex, please, I can't—ah! Not any… Not anymore" you're huffing, skin tingling and in tears. The redhead pays no mind to your pleas, "Cum for me, baby" words muffled and sending vibrations up your body. Rex finally pushes you over, slowing the pace of his hand and mouth as you ride out the high.

He pulls your panties out of the way, licking up your cunt and slurping up every bit of your release; like nectar he can't resist. Sultry eyes stare up at you, then he licks his fingers. God, you could melt into the couch.

The actor situates himself back beside you, grinning like an idiot in bliss. You kiss him again, needily, tasting yourself on his tongue. When you pull away, Rex moves away the hair on your face, removing the tropical flower along with it. Both of you falling into shared giggles, the moment still sending butterflies into your stomachs. Breaking the silence, Rex kisses you on the cheek "I better get moving, babe" He's fixing his hair and shirt.

"Where are you going?" your heart dips

Rex feels he's definitely overstayed his welcome, "Don't worry, baby" he carresses your cheek "I'll come back in the morning with breakfast" smile softening on his cheeks. You crawl over him, pinning him down on your couch.

You could practically feel his heartbeat through his shirt as you trace your fingers down his chest. His bulge presses against your clothed cunt, and grinding on it sets a fire deep in your abdomen. The redhead is quiet, eyes glued to your hands trailing down his body. He's denied himself for so long, he's worried the way your hips sway in circles on him is going to make him burst. “You've been so good to me, Rex” your voice makes his body jerk towards you, “Tell me what you need”

His cock twitches under you, body talking before his mouth could. A soft “I need you, mama” was all you needed to hear to unbuckle his belt and slide your hands in his pants. Rex bites back a moan, head falling back, searching for proof this is really happening in the comforts of your ceiling. He paws at your body, roaming under your dress and the clasp of your bra, unlocking it.

You pull his cock out of his pants, Rex pulls your dress over your head. Exposed breasts catch the dimmed city lights that peak through your blinds, the actor is mystified and starry-eyed. He 'has to be dreaming'. You sink down onto him, the stretch making you hiss. It's been way too long.

You bottom out, gasping at the sharp pain as he hits your cervix. Quickly settling into a slow tempo, the sensation of his length gliding in and out of you languidly gets your nerves drunk, easing the soreness. "You okay?" He checks in, thumb rubbing your womb. The pressure of his hand pushes your spot up against where his cock is inside you, overdriving your body.

Your pace quickens, snapping your hips against him in the pursuit of chasing an eagerly approaching orgasm. Rex can't help but stare at your breasts, bouncing and beading with sweat. His eyes trailed down your body, your muscle tightening on your core, and where his cock disappeared into you with every pound. That, he couldn't take his eyes off.

That's when he feels it, a hot knot forming in him. His eyes roll back, pleasure seizing hold of his body. His arms tense up, and his breath refuses to come down his throat. Blood pulsates down into his pelvis, and the hardness of his cock is getting unbearable. He whimpers your name, head falling, heaving.

Rex's large hands clasp onto your waist like its a lifeline. The waves steadily coming to a head, building up and threatening to crash. His body arches into yours, rough palms glide up your back. Amid moans, Rex paws at your tender skin needily, head buried in your chest. His eyes gleamed with the steady, warm flickering of the candles, as if flames lit within him too. When the actor looks up at the goddess on top of him “Please babe, can I?” he begs.

"Mhm—ah, fuck, mh" the world around you has gone hazy, and the way his cock throbs inside you has got you babbling. Rex is trembling under you, struggling to hold back his orgasm, "Babe, I can't—ha—please" he cries out. Stabilizing yourself with a hand splayed out on his chest, you regain some semblance of the lost rhythm. Lazily nodding a yes to him while the ache fully consumes you. "Awh—Fuck!" The redhead digs his rough hands onto your hips, emptying himself deep in your womb with so much cum it spills out.

All the while you're still chasing your own fill, inching so close its unbearable. His hands lock your hips in place, but your body does not still its frantic pounds. Rex bites the inside of his cheeks so hard he thinks it might bleed, overwhelmed by the sensitivity of an already-emptied cock. His mouth latches on your breast, kneading the other "That's it, mama" breathed out heavy on your chest. He rocks his hips, bouncing you on top of him. "Take it all out on me" A long drawn out moan falls on him, your head snapping back.

The tide finally crashes, and the knot in your stomach snaps. The man nips at your bud, hands massaging the soreness off your back "Take it all out, baby" Colors flash and bright light fills your vision. You cry out Rex's name, nails digging into his toned back. Your body trembles on him, cunt clenching hard on his cock. Rex rubs circles along the span of your back, easing you back into reality.

You lay your full weight on the actor, heaving and spent from the earth shattering climax. Rex still thinks he's dreaming all of this. unable to grasp the reality that all of this truly just happened.

Your gentle hands play in Rex's auburn locks, the sensation soothing his nerves; still sensitive from the high. He looks at you with longing, eyes still glassy, lips wet from your kisses. 

“I love you,” he says your name.

A/N: Its over, I'm dedicating this fanfic as a memoriam to Rex; rest in peace REX SPLODEEEEEEEE. I HC in my own fic that he actually already died in the show so thats why he has so much free time. Ending is up to you!! I would fold and say 'I love you too', but thats me.