#post-order 66

It’s late. The holo is on mute – the dim colors casted from the screen dancing across the walls and ceiling. The air vent above you whistles with every cycle. The conservator quietly hums from the kitchen. High-rises and resolute speeder traffic twinkle through the sheer curtains that drape down your windows to the outside world.

You’ve been in your apartment for a couple days – locked yourself inside the day after Rex had commed to inform you that he’d be arriving that evening. He never did arrive, though. Radio silence from Rex – the thick, gloomy Coruscanti air – signals a change. A curfew for nonessential sentients. Smoke ascending from the Temple. Squads upon squads of shiny clones scouting the duracrete walkways below and patrolling the skies above. 

“If you don’t hear from me– ”

“I know, Rex. Just, please, don’t make me think about that.”

“I’m sorry, but you know why I bring this up. Things are… different now.”

Fives had died. Kix had gone missing – toed the same dangerous line Fives had before his life came to an end. The grievance report Rex had voluntarily filed is locked away, only waiting to be opened by the wrong people. It could come for him, too. It may have already, and if that’s the case… well – there’s something the two of you had set in place for that. 

“If you don’t hear from me… if things start to feel strange – you stay here. You don’t leave this apartment, cyare. Not until the time is up.”

“I understand. Good luck in Yerbana. I love you.”

“I love you, too. So much. I’ll be back before you know it.”

The couch has become your bed for the past couple of nights, because something about the way your back and neck scream in discontent grounds you to the fact that you should not be affording yourself coziness – not in a time like this. It’s all uncertain. You’ve seen Chancellor Palpatine’s speech on the holo multiple times a day – ran every hour on every frequency. You’re probably able to recite it by now. The little amount Rex had told you about the conspiracy Fives had uncovered, the one that had ultimately led to his demise, helped to fill in some holes dug from the events of the last few days. The Jedi are gone – the entirety of them punished for treason against the self-proclaimed Emperor. It’s not right. A new Galactic Empire. It feels strange. Unpainted, unmarked clones are littered on the streets and flooding the skies of Coruscant. Something’s off.

Your eyes are fixed on the ceiling and every change of color flashing against it, unable to fall asleep. You don’t allow any room for grieving – not yet. It’s not the time to mourn any losses, but that doesn't mean your thoughts can’t wander – conjuring the most disastrous of scenarios. A hoard of grim images flash through your sleep-deprived mind, ranging from Rex’s ship crashing before it had a chance to breach Coruscant’s atmosphere to the renegade Sith Lord prisoner striking him and the rest of his battalion down during transport. Another gruesome image flashes before your eyes: Rex getting shot down just as Fives had – and whoever it was who’d sought out Rex… may be after you, now.

Just outside your door, you hear the beeping of your keypad – the fumbling haste of fingertips. Your heart begins to race – the images and reality bleeding together within seconds. Your body moves on its own accord, kicking the thin sheet from your legs then you’re drawn towards the door as whoever is attempting to enter continues to input the incorrect code. Flooded with nerves and hesitance, you peek through the peephole to catch a glimpse of the assailant.

Your thumping heart falls into your stomach and your fingers start to shake as you quickly move to slam the button to open the door, successful after a couple of tries. 

Rex stands there almost frozen – clad in a large cloak almost entirely disguising himself, armor of his legs and arms spotted in an unpleasant mixture of browns and crimson, and a devastated look on his face. There’s the darkened paint of exhaustion sitting underneath his eyes and a hollowness carved in the valleys of his cheeks, darker and deeper than ever before. 

“Rex..." His name cracks from your throat.

He steps towards you and your hands are on him instantly, unsure of where to land – palms patting his chest, his shoulders, his cheeks – checking him for injury. Your eyes scan every inch of him but the look on his face and state of his armor tells you that nothing is damaged physically. He’s visibly in pain – a dagger lodged in his beating heart.

Your vision gets blurry – tears welling in your eyes.

You’re about to pepper him with questions, to ask him what’s happening and where were you and are you okay but he’s breezing past you before you’re able to speak.

“We need to leave,” he says with almost too much conviction for a man in his state, grabbing your hand and quickly leading you further into your living room, locking the door behind you. “I’ll explain everything on the way, but we need to leave.”

It’s time.

It’s too real.

Stunned into motionlessness against the wall, you watch as Rex moves throughout your apartment, in and out of your bedroom and ‘fresher, gathering the lightest of items and irreplaceable trinkets, setting them on the couch. It’s the practiced fluidity of him cutting through the air that gets to you – the reality hitting you hard. You’ve drilled this before – gathered those same items – piled them up before tossing them into your bags. It was all precautionary – if the two of you needed to flee… or if Rex didn’t come back to you after a certain, agreed upon period of time. Right now it’s the former and you feel unprepared for the escape the two of you had been discussing for the better part of this year. You’re terrified and alarmed but more so for the man you love and rationale is urging haste while your heart casts it aside.

“Rex.” 

You try to get his attention – to slow him down. He’s moving quickly and shaking his head as he searches for something that isn't there and it looks as if he’s about to break – shatter into pieces all over your floor. There’s a fragility to him that you’ve seen only once before but not at this level and if you could just get him to slow down…

“Rex!”

The machine stops and he finally looks you in the eyes. 

“We need to leave,” he repeats, quieter, this time sounding as if it’s directed more to himself – a plea. He steps closer, moving slower than before, until he’s right in front of you. Being this close you can make out the fine red lines spidering in the whites of his eyes. The gleam of stagnant tears in the creases – the clean streaks cutting through the dirt and dust on his cheeks. The strong pinch of his brows. You’re stuck in silence, paralyzed from the ability to say any of the million things racing through your mind though it’s all still buzzing on the tip of your tongue. Instead you watch him – analyze him. He’s just as still as you are and you’re pushing back the most negative of thoughts – the things he may have gone through to get back here.

Rex opens his mouth to speak again, but nothing comes out. His eyes flicker back and forth – bottom lip caught between his teeth.

You feel the thumping of your pulse in your ears for one beat, two, three–

He’s on you in an instant, slamming his lips to yours and dissolving the many questions and worries from your tongue. You feed off his energy – the frantic urgency – and kiss him back with an equal force. Rex licks into your mouth – behind your teeth – mingles with your tongue. He maps out every square inch and everything is telling you that whatever happened was too close a call, closer than ever before. Something came to a head during his enigmatic absence paired with the obliteration of the Jedi – Rex tangled within. 

There’s a weighted exigency to him and it’s consuming you – dousing you with the same need and desire. Two minds share indistinguishable thoughts, wringing together as both pairs of hands work to remove your bottoms and his codpiece without so much as breaking for breath. When you do finally break, mere inches from each other’s lips, Rex peels off his glove and spits on his hand then lifts your leg and guides himself into you before your underwear can make it down your leg. The scalding thickness of him drags inwards, sheathing himself to the hilt – a choked gasp of relief and pleasure expelling from deep in his chest.

Grasping into the thick fabric of his cloak, you feel Rex shudder under the bulk of his armor as he grows accustomed to the heat enveloping him. It’s the same for you; weeks without his touch and your body has to remold around him. It’s an intoxicating stretch that you’ll never get tired of. His gloved hand braces itself against the wall beside you and his naked hand holds your thigh against the shell of his hip – wasting no more time. The first few thrusts are almost experimental – tentative. It takes a few tries before a smooth passage is granted for his split-slick cock as you bloom effortlessly around him. Rex’s forehead drops against yours and it’s all heated, damp breaths as his hips move just as rapidly as the beat of your heart. 

He takes you – holds you tight. Every piston of his cock is precise and punches against your cervix, even from this angle. He fucks up into you and the leg you’re standing on wobbles from the itenstity of his movements. You’re both panting – foreheads sticky with beads of sweat, feeding off each other in this moment as time stands still, pressed between a wall and his filthy attire. The urgency is still there – the two of you still needing to flee – but has been converted into a raw magnetism that’s too debilitating for any rational thought. 

Your fingers curl into his cloak, twisting and bunching as your abdomen tightens. You’re yanking him closer to you though he’s already as close as he can get – until his exhales become the very air you breathe. Rex’s lips meet yours, barely connecting, just brushing against them – feeling the way yours quiver with whispered-out curses. Every gasp and audible shudder is sucked in by your own. He’s close – stuttering and shaking and in moments Rex is halting his movements – digging his hands into your flesh as he presses you flush against him – not daring to let you slip through his fingers. He clings to you as if you’re life itself and seconds later you feel his cock swell and burst, filling you with warmth – consolation. 

As the two of you stand there suspended in a haze, there’s a sudden change in his breathing – clipped and ragged. Your hand reaches to cup his cheek and your fingertips are greeted with the warmth of fresh tears – the flex of his tightening jaw. 

“Hey,” you whisper against his lips – his teeth holding the quivers at bay. “You’re with me, now. You’re safe with me and… it’s time.”

It’s time.

Something dreadful has happened but your lives will truly begin once away from Coruscant – far away from responsibility, duty, secrets. Nothing is planned past this very point but it’s your course to plot out, no one else’s – not the Republic's, not the Empire’s, and not the Emperor’s.

You delicately press your lips to his. “Let’s get going.”

Rex nods, moving your own head with the gesture. He releases his grip from your leg and the two of you begin to redress quickly, as if the frozen time had resumed only to have filled the hourglass in earnest. You get a jump on folding the clean clothes Rex had laid out, shoving them into your go-bag, decidedly casting quite a few articles out to make room for other things.

“We can’t take much,” Rex sighs as he’s rummaging through your pantry, collecting the small canisters of nonperishable goods – the ones that had been set aside for this very instance. The cabinet doors squeak and thwack as he hastily searches them, gathering anything else that can make it that would otherwise be left to rot. “Only enough to sit at our feet.”

“Rex, the credits,” you call as you rush into the closet. Pushing the hanging coats and other unworn clothing aside, you dig into the safe, throwing what you can into the remaining room you have left in your bag. Rex comes to your side, squeezing into the space to shovel the rest of the stash into his bag – the credit chips clanking against the canned goods.

“That’s it,” he confirms after one last sweep of the apartment. “C’mon – we need to make it back to the ship as soon as possible before somebody discovers it.”

You secure your bag on your back and cover your head with the hood of your cloak, following him out as the two of you speed walk down the corridor to the lift, not so much as turning back to see the life you have no choice but to leave behind. 

When one door closes, another one opens. The two of you were prepared for this. 

“Where are we headed?” you ask once strapped into your seat of the commandeered Y-wing, pushing your bag as far underneath the seat as possible. Rex works with extreme haste in the cockpit below you, fingers moving rapidly across the console as the small ship roars to life.

“To visit an old friend,” he calls through the overhead comm. 

As the ship exits the atmosphere, remaining undetected by any patrols, you turn your head and watch Coruscant become smaller – the lights of the cities below ingrained in the surface swallowed by the brilliant blue and white as you’re launched into hyperspace. 

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