Clones X Fem!reader - Tumblr Posts
An Unknown Thirst: 501st Legion x f!reader
Content & Warnings: explicit sexual content, explicit language, asking for and reestablishing consent, canon typical swearing, check-in and aftercare, oral sex (male and female receiving), unprotected PiV (it’s fantasy, wrap it up), multiple creampie, fingering, uncensored smut, clones speak mando’a (per Legends), gangbang, all the clones are alive in this universe, sex work, sex worker reader
Word Count: 13k
Rating: Explicit, 18+, NSFW
A continuation & expansion of THIS fic.
Paid handsomely by a member of the Cuy'val Dar, reader spends the evening entertaining the 501st at the GAR barracks.
Hair color, skin color, eye color, height, weight, and body type are left ambiguous. It is written in 2nd person, so "you".
ao3 // ko-fi // taglist // masterlist
All Included Clones: Rex, Jesse, Fives, Echo, Hardcase, Kix, Dogma, Tup, Redeye, Mixer, Charger, Denal, Appo, and many more unnamed 501st clone troopers.
Mando’a Translations: bevagol – penis Cuy’val Dar – those who no longer exist dala – woman Gar cuy mesh’la – you are beautiful kama – belt-spat / skirt Kandosii! – Nice one! / Well Done! / Wicked! wayii – an exclamation, either good or bad yaiten – vagina
Rex and Echo walk down the hallway toward the barracks temporarily housing the 501st. Most of the men are offloaded from the cruisers, already settling in, and enjoying the offerings of leave.
The Republic barracks on Coruscant stand in stark contrast to the ones on Kamino. It’s a massive structure, built to hold the entire GAR. The walls and floors are dark matte metal, nearly black. Even the emblem of the Republic embedded onto almost every surface is a dark gray. It’s almost unwelcoming, but it’s home for the next few days.
“How many days do we have off exactly?” asks Echo, pinching the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger.
Rex glances over at him and frowns. “Not long enough.”
Echo smiles and that calms Rex a bit. “By the end all the numbers were running together. I’d rather fight clankers than do cruiser inventory.” They both laugh, easing some of the tension and weariness.
“We’ll be back in action soon enough,” says Rex. “I appreciate you staying behind to help review the numbers. I’d be stuck here all night arguing with the droids.”
They continue down the hall. Troopers from various legions walk by each with their own identifiers that mark them to a certain battalion or company. A few nod as they pass, but some smirk knowingly or elbow bump their companions when Rex and Echo draw near.
Rex and Echo exchange a look.
Three troopers marked with the familiar red of the Coruscant Guard approach. One of them waves.
“Next time the five-oh-first is throwing a party, invite us!”
They all laugh, disappearing down a connecting hallway. Rex and Echo come to a full stop and watch them go.
“Do you know what they’re talking about?” asks Echo, a note of confusion in his question.
Rex changes the arm his helmet is tucked under. “I’m sure we’ll find out.”
Rex and Echo hear the muted commotion before they even approach the doors to their temporary barracks. When the doors open, the full force of the noise washes over them. They pause before entering, their steps hesitant and weary.
The massive common area is littered with 501st troopers. Some lounge in chairs and on couches, others play cards, but the majority stand near the back of the room nearest the farthest door. Some still sport their classic white armor while many are stripped down to bodysuits.
There are six sets of doors in all, each leading to sleeping quarters with rows and rows of bunks. Everything is dark here, too. The walls, the floor, the tables, the chairs, and even the bunks look gloomy. Rex and Echo take in their surroundings, scanning the familiar faces for a clue as to why so many gave them looks along the way.
Rex spots Fives loitering near the door in the back, the one with the largest cluster of troopers. Rex immediately beelines for him with Echo close on his heels. Fives leans against the doorframe, watching something going on inside. Another trooper stands next to him. They’re having a conversation, but from this far away, and with so many bodies, it’s hard to tell who it is.
“Fives,” calls Rex. Fives glances over, smiles broadly. Hardcase pokes his head out from around Fives and gives a halfhearted, playful salute. “What’s going on?”
Hardcase nearly busts a gut laughing.
Fives smirks and taps his ear. “Listen.”
Rex’s face scrunches up in confusion. He turns in the direction of the connecting room but there’s a wall of bodies. At first, all he hears is the multitude of conversations. Then, further into the room he hears it. The soft cry of a woman.
Instinct kicks in. Rex immediately pushes through the bodies. What’s a civilian doing in Republic barracks? What’s a woman doing here? She must be hurt. Injured. What other reason could there be.
Rex forces his way through, but once the troopers notice who’s pushing them, they give him space, moving backward due to his rank.
Rex knows he’s closer because there are only a few more troopers in his way. The woman’s cries are coming in short, breathy bursts. The last line of troopers steps aside. Rex skids to a stop, confused, at first. Then, shocked
The woman isn’t hurt or in pain at all. She’s on all fours atop what can only be one of the tables from the common area with a mattress and blankets haphazardly thrown on it. Her elbows support most of her weight, her head near the mattress, ass up in the air. Behind her, between her spread legs, is a trooper, his body suit rolled down enough so that he can pump into her. The man’s face is scrunched, the muscles in his neck and shoulders tense. The woman makes little sounds of pleasure, and her face is one of absolute bliss. She’s not in pain. She’s enjoying herself.
Rex immediately backs up a few steps, then turns around and heads straight for Fives, Hardcase, and Echo. Echo looks perplexed, mouth slightly agape.
“You should see your face,” laughs Hardcase. He uses the doorframe for support, one hand pressed to his chest as he laughs.
Fives isn’t much better. The ARC trooper is bent over, hands on his knees, doubled over in a fit of giggles. He’s barely holding on to his helmet.
Fives manages to straighten, one hand pressing into his side from laughing too hard. “You should have a go, Rex. That’s what she’s there for.” He winces slightly and rubs his side.
“No,” says Rex firmly. “She’s a civilian. She isn’t supposed to be here.”
Fives shrugs. “Yeah, but when has the five-oh-first ever really followed the rules?”
“That’s not the point!” Rex rubs his forehead. “She needs to go. Who brought her here in the first place?”
Fives taps his helmet gently against his leg. He and Hardcase share a look.
Rex rolls his eyes. There’s a small cheer from behind him. They all turn to look as the trooper, who was rutting into the woman just moments before, backs away with a contented look on his face. One of his brothers playfully shoves him out of the way before taking his place.
“You’ve got to be kriffing joking,” mutters Rex. “Whoever she is, and whoever brought her, have them send her back.”
Fives puts his hands up in the air in a placating gesture. “You can take it up with the Cuy’val Dar that dropped her off.”
Rex groans in frustration. “Which one was it?”
“Does it matter?”
“There aren’t that many left, Fives. Most of them left after their contracts were up. Only a handful stayed behind.”
“I never worked with the Cuy’val Dar. They helped train the Alpha class and hardly had anything to do with us commandos that came later. You were part of the Alpha training program, Rex. If anyone would know, it should be you.”
“He’s right old man,” remarks Headcase. Fives elbows him in the ribs.
“How long is she here for? Do you have any idea?”
Fives shrugs. “Until they come get her? Seriously Rex. We’re on leave. Kick back and enjoy yourself for once.”
“This isn’t protocol,” growls Rex.
“We risk our lives every day. Why can’t we have this one thing?”
The growing anger evaporates. Fives is right. Each day not on leave is a day where one of them could die. That is their purpose. Rex glances at the faces in the room. They’re all happy. Eager. Care-free. A quiet sadness sits in his stomach.
“Fine,” Rex mutters. “She can stay. As long as she’s consenting.”
“Oh, she certainly is.” Fives’ smile says enough.
Rex shakes his head. “I don’t want to know.”
In that moment, the woman in question cries out in pleasure, the sound echoing in the room. Rex runs a hand across his face. He turns to Echo. “Stay here and watch them.”
Echo opens his mouth to protest but Fives smacks him on the back, knocking the words from his mouth.
Rex beelines for the showers, wanting something cold against the heat growing under his skin.
Being bent over and taking multiple dicks is not the way you thought your night was going to go.
Was it your job? Yes.
Did you agree to entertain at the GAR barracks? Also, yes.
Were you paid a significant amount of money that would change your entire future? Sure did.
But it wasn’t clones that dangled the credits in your face. It was a Mandalorian.
A scary looking one too with armor painted in a shade of red that looked more like blood than paint. When they removed their helmet, there was just a man underneath. Grim looking, and stern, but just a man. He didn’t say much, except what he was buying you for and for how much. You didn’t even hesitate and consider. You needed the money.
He handed you clone armor that didn’t fit right, and stunk to high hell, to sneak you in. Once inside, he shoved you into a cramped utility room and instructed you to change. You were free of the armor but not his gaze.
Even though he wore a helmet, you felt his eyes on your skin.
You didn’t like it, but he never touched you. Instead, he escorted you to a set of barracks large enough to house an entire legion. There were troopers there already. Not many, but they trickled in as the red-painted Mandalorian guided you to a small group near the center of the room.
All of them had some sort of adornment on themselves or their armor. One stood out amongst the others. His armor was different. More detailed. He even wore a kama. Whoever he was, he had rank.
“Where’s your commanding officer?” Even with a helmet, the Mandalorian’s voice was menacing.
The clone with the kama addressed him and, to your amusement, matched the man’s tone. “Captain Rex is still on the ship. Can I help you?”
The Mandalorian had shoved you forward, nearly pushed you into the clone’s arms. “For you.”
“For me?”
Ice coated those words. Perhaps you weren’t welcome. Either way, you’d been paid. No take backs.
The Mandalorian shrugged. “Not you, but everyone. Have fun.”
He walked away without another word.
You stood there awkwardly. Waited for someone, anyone, to break the silence. The clone that addressed the Cuy’val Dar removed his helmet. He had dark hair and even darker eyes with the number “five” tattooed on his right temple.
“I’m Fives,” he said.
“Explains the tattoo.”
Your lame attempt at a joke broke the tension. What followed was a messy conversation where you had to explain that you were in fact not lost or randomly picked up, but hired from a pleasure house. The color that bloomed on his cheeks was worth it. You had laughed and delicately squeezed his bicep to reassure him. It was strong. All muscles under your fingers.
While the troopers debated and argued, you sat quietly, lounged on one of the couches as everyone else in the room kept their distance. No one knew what to do with you.
It was Fives that eventually approached. The two of you talked for a bit. He was polite and kept a respectable distance. The whole interaction was pleasant. Every client you ever had was slimy and disagreeable. None of them thought of you as a person.
Fives spoke to you like a person. He asked you if you were comfortable with the situation. If you’d been paid appropriately. Even gave you an opportunity to leave if you wanted to. You answered honestly.
Yes, you were comfortable.
Yes, you’d been paid handsomely.
And no, you wouldn’t leave.
You were curious. Several of the other woman you worked with liked to talk about the clones they’d serviced. They always blushed and giggled whenever they revealed details. If a clone walked in the door, the women would throw themselves in his path in the hopes that he’d choose one of them. No one that worked there ever threw themselves in front of a client unless they had significant money to spend.
Now, though, you’re entirely at their mercy.
Now you understand why they’d throw themselves in their path.
And the knowledge is wonderful.
Fives leads, steering until you’re happily compliant. He leaves you feeling bare. Empty, with the hunger to be full. His hand rubs circles on the small of your back in a comfortingly gentle touch. The other holds your chin, pulling softly until you move in whatever direction he wants. His beard grazes against your skin until you feel a little raw. A little dazed. The scent of him is smoke and the char of blaster fire. It’s intoxicating, as if he’s just stepped away from battle.
His tongue teases your bottom lip and the noises he lets out are raspy little hums that speak of desire. It's controlled. Blistering. Purpose and authority linger in his movements. In the way he touches the curves of your body. He shifts you around until you're tucked into the warm press of his chest. His hold is ironclad.
Before you stands a clone with a shaved head and face tattoo of the Republic crest. Jesse, they called him. He pulls you away from Fives and murmurs soft words. Things meant only for a lover.
“So pretty,” whispers Jesse.
He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. He shows his eagerness as he slots his pelvis to yours. The hard, firm bulge of him presses into your skin. Jesse lingers like this for a moment, fingers tracing the wet curve of your raw lips. They are chafed and irritated from the bristles of Fives’ beard. It's filthy the way he grazes his finger under the curve of your lip, as if he’s assessing something about your mouth.
“Do you want to kiss me, cyar’ika?”
When he asks you like that, soft and hushed, you can't say no.
His mouth is molten on yours. He kisses you like he's starving for it. It's wet, and messy. Hungry. When you open your mouth to him, Jesse slides his tongue inside, chasing your taste. He doesn’t pull away until you’re begging for air.
You hardly have a second to catch your breath before Fives is there, hands firm on your ass, dragging you into him. His kisses are just as ferocious and wanton as Jesse’s. Open mouth. Biting teeth. Lips red and swollen with attention. He pulls away, leaves you dazed and leaning forward. Wanting more.
He huffs, hands sliding around the curve of your waist. “How do you like it?”
How do you like it?
When has anyone ever asked you that? When has anyone considered what drives you crazy with lust?
They are a tidal wave. A storm surge that breaks your resolve. No wonder the women at the pleasure house chased after them. Clients don’t ask those kinds of things.
Fives kisses you again. Velvet soft. Starts slow. Just the press of his lips on yours. They lift into a grin as you try to taste him. He laughs. A low, throaty chuckle. He allows your tongue a tiny sample that leaves you unsatisfied.
“Tell me how you like it first.”
You do. You whisper it in his ear. Every heady detail.
Fives’ hand is warm on your chin. His lips are a balm to your irritated flesh. It's sweet. Featherlight whispers of his lips across your skin, the corners of your mouth, the soft skin between your chin and lower lip. He kisses you like you’re the only one in the room. Like you’re the only one he wants.
There are hands on your waist, hot and heavy, nearly possessive. The flimsy fabric you wear is a trivial obstacle in Jesses’ hands. It falls from your shoulders and stops at your hips. With skin bare, Jesse presses his face in the space between your shoulder blades and breathes in your scent. Teeth graze flesh.
You’re trembling in their embrace. Fives in front, possessing your mouth. Jesse at your back, trapping you between them. Bolts of pleasure bloom and course through your system. Fives pulls away from your lips, leaving you empty and hungry for more. Glancing over your shoulder, Fives nods in acknowledgement, but his eyes are not on Jesse.
Footsteps. Then, a new face.
This one with lines tattooed on his chin and over his right eye. Another from the group you met upon your arrival.
Hardcase.
His head drops. Nuzzles your neck. Soft and gentle. Whispers words against your flesh. Eager giddiness dances in his eyes.
But the moment is fleeting. Jesse runs a hand up your back, grabs the nape of your neck, and turns your head enough that you’re looking into his eyes.
“Is it ready, Hardcase?” Jesse speaks to the clone on your right but he’s only looking at you.
“Yes.” His voice is tinged with heady roughness.
Jesse’s eyes scan your face before he utters his next words. “Do you want to take all of us? The entire five-oh-first is here. That’s a tall order.”
“That might break her. Don't know about you, but I'm a big man.” Fives’ tone is teasing.
Hardcase snorts. “We’re all big men. You can thank Jango for that.”
“What do you say, cyar’ika? What’s your answer?”
Yes. Always yes.
Your answer spurs Jesse to action. The hand at your neck disappears, and the twisting ache of the position he held you in releases. But you’re not free. Jesse places his hands on your hips and guides you to a spot a few feet away.
Jesse helps you down onto the makeshift bed. Calling it a bed is generous. It’s more of a table with a mattress from one of the barrack bunks thrown on top with a few spare blankets.
Jesse is gentle as you lie on your back, his strong hands ease you down with a comforting touch. As you recline, the rest of the room comes into clearer focus. More clones arrived while you were preoccupied with Fives and Jesse. Many loiter about, some still in full armor with helmets tucked under their arms. Others are stripped to their black body suits. Structurally, they all look the same, but further observation reveals little nuances to each of them.
They’re people. Human.
Not all of them are looking your way, though. Plenty ignore the crowd starting to form around you, clearly preoccupied with other things. Jesse is bare from the chest up. His black body suit is rolled down to his waist, and the bottom half of his body still sports the signature white armor.
His hands are warm on your knees, growing hot when they slide up and between your thighs, pushing them wide until your cunt is bare for him. Your dress encircles your waist like a bird’s nest. It’s strange. Entirely different from how the HoloNet portrays them. Faceless. Nameless. Numbers. Cogs in the great Republic machine.
They are not gears, but men. It’s entirely clear when Jesse licks the entire length of your sex before eating your pussy as if starved. You don’t need to ride his tongue or chase your own pleasure. Jesse puts his entire effort behind it, making your orgasm not once, not twice, but three times. He doesn’t even pause between them, just keeps going, licking, and sucking until you’re dripping.
The cry forming on your tongue is swallowed when Fives puts his mouth to yours. Your lips are trembling. Your body is trembling. Everything is in overdrive. Shuddering and stuttering toward frenzy. His lips sear. The sensual roll of Jesse’s tongue is heightened by the hands starting to roam across your body.
It starts as one and turns into many. Hardcase holds the back of your knees up to your chest as Jesse swipes his tongue over your aching cunt before lapping at your clit. A new face, Kix, is on your nipples, pinching and tugging until you're mewling at the sharp pleasure-pain that ripples down your spine. Fives strokes your face, murmurs about how good you are, how pretty you look with Jesse between your thighs. His fingers ghost over your torso, and trail down to your throbbing clit when Jesse shifts to tease your entrance with his tongue.
It edges into overstimulation. You're equally aware of every single brush across your trembling flesh, and yet completely gone at the same time. Dissolving. You’re dissolving into mush.
And they haven't even really started yet.
A clone leans against the wall nearby. Arms crossed. Armor still on. Even the helmet.
He clears his throat. “Does Captain Rex know?”
All the hands touching you immediately pause. Jesse groans between your legs but it isn’t a pleasurable sound. He lifts his head and turns in the direction of the interruption.
“The last thing I want on my mind while my mouth is on a woman is the image of Rex.” Jesse’s voice is almost a snarl.
“Civilians aren’t supposed to be in here.”
“Then go get him, Dogma. I’m sure he’d rather by right here than on the cruiser.”
Dogma snorts and pushes off from the wall. They watch him go as he saunters out of the room. Jesse sighs and puts his mouth right back on your clit, sucking it into his mouth with a sharp intensity that has your back bending.
Fives runs a thumb across your bottom lip. “If Dogma isn’t interested, that just means there’s more for us.”
All their attention returns to you. When Jesse releases your clit to stroke inside your cunt, Fives’ finger presses against it. It's too much. They work in tandem as Hardcase and Kix continue to touch and tease other parts of you.
The crowd around you is growing. Some show genuine interest. Others look on in curiosity or confusion. But there are plenty more who don’t seem all that interested. That’s fine. Right now, you can hardly handle the four.
“You're so pretty like this. All flushed and aching for it,” Fives murmurs low in your ear. You whimper and that makes him chuckle. “I like that sound.”
“Damn right,” breathes Hardcase, his fingers drifting across your swollen lips. You open your mouth, and he slides two fingers inside. “How badly do you want this, sweet one?”
All you can do is moan brokenly around them, fingers rubbing across your tongue.
“She ready for us?”
Jesse sits back on his heels, admiring his work. Your pleasure is all over his lips and chin. He is smug about it, too, winking when he stands as he wipes the back of his hand across his mouth. Fives slides two fingers into your cunt. They go in easily.
“Kriffing hell, Jesse.” It’s a curse, but the tone is more teasing than upset.
Jesse shrugs. “You’re welcome.”
Fives huffs clearly amused. “Ready to start, then?”
“I am,” Hardcase grunts as he removes his fingers from your mouth. Kix nods, as does Jesse. Several of the other clones standing around nod too.
Fives removes his fingers, now glossy with your slickness. He kneels between your legs but goes no further. Instead, he meets your gaze with a look of serious concern.
“Are you okay with all of this?”
“I was paid to be here.”
“I know,” he says. “But it doesn’t hurt to check, again.”
The concern is sweet. “I’m fine, really.” And you are, especially after that oral introduction.
“I promise we’re not animals.”
“Unless you want us to be,” interjects Jesse with a sly grin.
Fives rolls his eyes, shakes his head.
You place your hand over Fives in a calming touch. “It’s alright.”
“Alright,” he echoes.
They move in tandem. A seamless weaving with the singular goal of keeping you happy and full.
You moan against Hardcase’s cock when he presses it to the seal of your mouth. His hand is firm on your head, but his eyes are gentle. He waits for you, holding still until you give him your confirmation to continue.
Your mouth parts, tongue rolling out over the weeping head of his cock. You moan a little when it slides deeper into your mouth. Hardcase pants roughly as your wrap around him. Hands fall over you again, and you lose track of who is touching you until Fives groans into your cunt, and Hardcase pushes your jaw open wider, sliding more of his cock into your mouth.
The air buzzes. It's intense. Surreal.
And then Hardcase pitches his hips forward. “Will you swallow it for me?” he asks in a smoky groan.
You answer with a soft moan.
You want it. Want to taste that salty tang in your throat. Feel it settle in your belly.
He lightly thrusts into your mouth, hand sliding up the length of his cock not buried in your throat, stroking himself as you suckle on his head. It's sloppy and wet. Nothing pretty about it.
Hardcase is the first to spill his milky release on your tongue. His moan is choked and hoarse. A low sound of pleasure that begins in the depths of his belly. You barely have time to swallow. Kix is there, hands on your cheeks, eyes lidded and pleading.
“May I?”
Hardcase’s spend spills from your tongue when he pulls away. It dribbles down your chin. His thumb catches the droplets, only to push it back inside your mouth. You suck it off his thumb greedily.
You nod at Kix, swallowing down what still lingers, brows furrowing in pleasure as Fives licks at your cunt. Kix shuffles closer. You open, tongue out, and he grunts at the sight.
“Gar cuy mesh’la.”
Kix’s cock brushes across your tongue, his eyes shuddering when you wrap your lips around him, head tipping back in pleasure.
“Damn,” he hisses as your tongue traces over his slit. His breath is ragged. Heavy. A few shallow thrusts of his hips have him emptying down your throat. You take it all. Eager. Wanting more.
“Kandosii,” mumbles Five against your opening. His breath against it makes your toes curl.
Kix strokes your hair, eyes glazed. His cock slips from your mouth with a wet pop. Kix shuffles backward a bit. The angle is awkward, but he leans down, slots his mouth over yours, tongue rubbing over the mess he made of you. He kisses you like he's worshipping you. Like you're the best thing he'd ever tasted, and he can't get enough.
There is a blunt pressure against your core. A delicious coil unspooling.
Fives has three fingers buried to the knuckle inside of you as his tongue rolls over your clit. That one lick is electrifying. Knee shaking. You moan against Kix’s mouth as your walls squeeze around Fives’ fingers.
“I like that sound,” Jesse says as he crouches beside you.
Fives lifts his head, beard soaked with your slick. He looks like ruin. Wet, dark, and hungry. Kix helps you sit up. Your mouth is stinging and sticky.
Their eyes are all dark hunger and desire. And that’s just the four of them. The other clones loitering about all look eager and excited. They want a turn.
Jesse’s thumb brushes across the corner of your mouth. “I think you should come around more often. I enjoy seeing you like this.”
“Shooting your shot, Jesse?” drawls Fives, humor lacing his tone.
“Better do it before you do.”
Kix’s firm hands fall to your shoulders, rubbing the knots in your back until you lean your head against his chest.
“Always the medic,” snorts Hardcase. Kix shrugs and keeps working your sore muscles.
Jesse continues. “I think you should stay here. I'll make you happy. Keep you all to myself.” His fingers trace your jaw.
“Absolutely not,” says Fives. “She’s all mine. That way, I can taste this delicious yaiten whenever I want.”
“You're all wrong,” scoffs Hardcase.
“That's enough.” While the voice is familiar, the clone is not. “She’s not here just so you four can bicker over her.”
“You’ll get a turn, Tup. Let us enjoy her a little longer.”
Jesse glances at you, and the humor shifts. Darkens. “Damn,” he whispers. “Look what they’ve done to you.”
You feel it, thick and vicious, on your burning skin. You can only imagine what you look like. Your lashes are clumped together, cheeks irritated, lips swollen.
“You look good,” Jesse says, slightly breathless in his delivery.
They all stare at you like you're a banquet. A feast. It’s not only the five directly in your space. The clones occupying the area beyond all look hungry. They want you just as much.
Your heart thuds in your chest.
For a fleeting moment, you believe you’ve taken on too much. That this whole thing was a terrible idea. But as quickly as it arrives, it disappears. No one here has caused you harm. They only acted when you gave consent. If you were to tell them “No”, they would back away. Give you space. That thought immediately strengthens your resolve. You’re going to enjoy yourself just as much as they will.
Shame shouldn’t be part of that equation.
Kix leans around your shoulder to address you. “I’m going to move you, okay?”
You swallow. “Okay.”
Kix nods. His hands are solid yet incredibly gentle as he maneuvers you on your stomach. Fives, Jesse, and Hardcase back up enough to allow you room.
“Lean on your elbows and draw your knees up. Yes. Like that. Good, cyar’ika. Perfect.” Kix’s voice is soothing. It touches you in all the right places.
There is a shifting of bodies and then Fives is at your back, running a soothing hand up your spine. He presses his cock against your ass, letting you feel the iron-hard, velvety soft heat of him. You push your hips back, cunt throbbing. You want it. Want his cock. Want him to fill you up until you're stuffed and full, and—
“Soon, cyar’ika. I promise.”
His voice is low. You tremble with anticipation. His hand trails down your spine again and then runs over the curve of your hips, and down between your thighs where Fives slides between, only to gently push them apart.
Fives shushes you when you whimper. His mouth ghosts over the soft flesh. He wastes no time. With fingers digging into the sides of your thighs, Fives licks you from clit to opening. You mewl. Your body is electrified. Buzzing. Sparking with overstimulation.
It’s too much, too soon, too raw. You’re too exposed.
Fingers at your chin. Jesse tips your head in his direction. Runs his thumb over your bottom lip.
Fives doesn't give you a moment. He doesn't waver. There is no preamble. His tongue rolls over your cunt over and over again. It flicks over your clit. Traces your folds. Dips inside to tease your walls. The only thing you hear are the slick noises of Fives’ mouth and tongue on you.
It's strange. The sensation is heightened by the awareness that everyone—everyone—is watching. Fives devours your pussy like it's the best meal he's had in weeks. You quiver. Jesse releases your chin, only to place it on the back of your head as it falls to the makeshift bed beneath you. Hardcase stands by your side, cock jerking each time you moan, even though he attempts to hide it from view.
Jesse’s hand on your head is a comfort. A heavy weight. Your hips rock back into Fives tongue. You keen with every pass of it across your clit.
A warm, slick finger joins, pushing into you, and the ache makes you choke.
“It’s alright,” murmurs Jesse. Your eyes feel slow, sticky, and gritty as you glance at him. His hand tightens around the base of his cock. Your cunt throbs at the sight. “Focus on me, yeah?”
“J— Jesse.”
The rawness in your voice changes something within him. His pupils grow large, almost blown out. His name is the first you’ve uttered and he’s not even the one currently sucking on your clit.
More slick noises reverberate around you. It makes them groan. You hear Hardcase swear. Kix grunts. They're getting themselves off to this. Fives continues fingering your cunt. Keeps working his tongue across your sensitive bundle of nerves. Your stomach twists, body coiling towards a release.
“That’s it,” coos Jesse, low and smoky.
His hand threads through your hair as his other hand roams your body, slipping to your chest to play with your nipples. A new clone, or maybe it’s Tup, the one who interrupted their bantering—you can't see, can't tell— kneels before you just as Fives inserts a second finger.
You want them. Want it.
“P—please—,” you beg.
The clone before you groans, a pearly bead appearing in the slit.
“I want you to suck my cock, cyar’ika. Will you do that for me?”
You look a bit closer and realize it is Tup. The topknot gives it away. You nod, core quivering as a rush of heat flutters down to the base of your spine. Fives is working you toward another release again and you’ve hardly come down from the last one.
You lick your lips and still taste everyone on your tongue.
You wonder if Tup will taste just as good.
Tup helps you move, and angles his cock toward you, grunting when your mouth seals over the head. He does taste good. You want to drown in it.
Fives pumps his fingers in and out your pussy as you swallow Tup’s cock. Your head spins, not quite able to believe you're on your knees for them. Yes, it’s your job. But you’ve never been in a situation like this.
A throbbing ache in the pit of your stomach makes you push back onto Fives’ fingers and tongue while you moan around Tup’s cock.
“That enough?” Fives sounds wrecked when he releases your clit. It’s saturated in want. The air crackles with impatience. Or perhaps it’s only you who’s impatient.
His tongue slides across your fluttering cunt in a long, wet stripe, as if savoring the taste of you before he pulls back.
“Yeah,” he confirms. Fives’ fingers press into you. He moans a little when your cunt greedily accepts. “She’s more than ready.”
Fives wastes no time. He pulls you off Tup, and the others—all communicating in a series of strange commands—make room for him.
He turns you around, and lets you fall back onto the blankets, legs spread around him. His cock rubs against your pussy when you wiggle under him and it hits you, now, that you're going to get fucked. That you’ve been prepped properly. Not through slick gels or oils, but through personal attention. No wonder the women threw themselves at them.
Fives stares down at you, nostrils flaring.
His cock nudges against your pussy. He pauses, eyes flickering up from the seal of your cunt around his flushed, engorged head, to confirm, one last time, if you want this. It’s a silent ask. Even if he asked verbally, you don’t think you’d have the voice to answer.
Instead, your hand reaches out and grasps his shaft, lining it up to your entrance. It’s all the confirmation he needs.
He nods in acknowledgement, positioning himself between your parted thighs. When he sinks in, it’s downright satisfying. You both moan, and then he’s pumping, hands planted firmly on your hips.
The mattress sinks near your head as Tup kneels beside you. His hand grips the back of your neck, turning your gaze away from what’s happening between your legs. You open wide, sucking down Tup’s cock, the tip hitting the back of your throat as you take all of it.
The other side of the mattress dips, your hand is lifted, then guided to an erection that you wrap your fingers around. You couldn’t move even if you wanted to. You relax completely, falling into the pleasure utterly. It's debauched and filthy. You’re lost to it.
Fives withdraws then pushes back inside with a strong, swift thrust that stretches your cunt deliciously. You moan, legs falling open wider as he splits you apart.
It's good. It's too much. It's not enough.
Fives feeds it into you, lips curled up in a snarl as you fall apart around him. He is all grunts and rasping growls. Sounds that spool inside your core and mix with his brutal strokes until you're white-hot and whimpering.
“Come on, cyar’ika,” falls from his lips. He leans forward a bit. Moves one hand from your hip to your shoulder. Holding you down. “You can take me.”
It makes you tremble. Makes the world around you grind together as if tiny tremors are shooting along the base of your spine to rattle your bones. It’s as if a mind flayer has cracked open your skull and sucked out every thought in your head. You’re empty and yet so full your brain can’t keep up and sort through the frenzy.
Fives’ cock wrenches you open. Each rocking thrust builds a congealing mix of noise under your skin until you're endlessly mewling around Tup’s cock. His groans of pleasure are thick. He works himself inside of you, praises falling from his lips.
You feel good.
This yaiten was made for us, wasn't it?
Take it, cyar’ika.
That's it.
His words slide over your skin like uj cake syrup. Tup’s cock hits the back of your throat. You burn. Everything is overextended. Hot and molten.
Fives’ hips slide against yours until every inch of his cock is inside. Tears run down your cheeks. He feels heavy inside. Tup’s thrusts are quick and shallow. They’re both near their end.
“Wayii,” Fives groans, head tipping back as he stares at the seal of your pussy taut around the base. “Look at that. So full. You were made for this.”
"Our little dala,” huffs Tup as he pushes his hips closer to your face as you suck on the head of his cock. “If her yaiten feels as good as her mouth. I won't last long.”
“I want her next. I want to know what it feels like when she clenches around me,” Jesse grunts, his hand wrapping around your wrist as he guides your hand along his shaft. His other hand falls to your chest to play with your aching nipples as Fives begins to fuck you again.
It's good. It's so kriffing good.
You whine around Tup as molten pleasure blooms in your belly. They use you. Revere you. Fives’ hips piston into you hard enough to shake the mattress. It squeaks as it moves against the table. The room fills with the scent of sex and sweat.
Tup’s fingers fall to your clit as Fives continues to drive into your womb, sending pleasure ricocheting up your spine until you're arching off the blankets. Muscles coil, tightening together as he thrusts.
“Ah, hell—,” Tup grunts. “You'll swallow it for me? All of it?”
You nod as Tup releases down your throat, hands stroking your face as he feeds it to you. Soft comforting words fall from his lips.
You can't focus. Can't think.
The taste of salt is on your tongue. The noises that spill around you and fill your head with a thudding buzz. The way Fives fucks you deep, battering against your fluttering walls until you’re close to seeing stars.
You moan, nearly choking on the bit of Tup you didn’t fully swallow. Jesse leans down, spits on your clit, and rubs the mess in with his fingers. It's feral. Dirty. You like it.
Your cunt spasms as you’re shoved over the precipice. Squeezing. Heartbeat hammering around the thickness of Fives’ cock as he spears it against your womb.
“Just look at that.” Jesse sounds amused, voice pitched low and a bit slurred.
“Damn—”
Fives spills inside of you with a grunt. He’s pressed taut, creating a seal so nothing escapes. He holds you there. Makes you take it. Drowns your cunt with him.
It's wet between your thighs. Your throat clicks when you swallow and your nose burns. He pulls out slowly and taps the head of his sticky cock against your clit. Fives gets off his knees, steps back, tucks himself back inside his black body suit. You feel him leaking out of you.
There is no respite. Hands are on your body. Head numb and fuzzy, as they discuss who’s going to fill you next.
“Think she's ready for round two?”
“Are you?”
“Let her breathe a moment.”
“Caught your breath yet, cyar’ika?”
“No. Not yet. Just look at her.”
“Next time, maybe don’t shove your bevagol down her throat so far.”
“Damn, Fives. How are any of us going to follow that?”
Jesse’s fingers fall to your aching cunt, spreading Fives’ release around your clit. He speaks next, and your cunt tightens at the low husk in his voice. “I’m taking her.”
His fingers slip into your cunt, and curl against your sensitive walls. “Damn, Fives filled you nicely.”
Hardcase’s thumb presses against the seam of your mouth. His thick cock grasped in his hand. You’re little more than a ragdoll. An offering. Jesse parts your thighs a bit wider, the head of his cock tapping against your throbbing cunt as he settles between them.
Fives leans against a beam nearby, eyes burning into you in search of any glimmer of distress. He’s already put his armor back on. Minus the helmet.
It’s odd. Having him close by calms you. Makes you relax. He was the first one to talk to you. The first one to ask consent. The first to check-in. He won’t let anything happen.
You settle, mouth popping open for Hardcase as Jesse pushes himself into your pussy.
“You feel incredible.”
Jesse follows that with a string of curses as he buries the full length of himself into your cunt. He fucks you like he's aching for it. A madman. His hips bludgeon into you until you see stars. Until you choke around Hardcase’s cock.
It's too much. Too much.
And you want more.
Hardcase’s hands are gentle on your face, brushing your hair away as he strokes into your mouth. His cock slides over your tongue, and you try to hollow your cheeks, to make it good for him, but the blistering pleasure of Jesse between your thighs makes your mouth fall open.
“It's okay,” he murmurs, resting the head on your tongue as he fists the length. “Just like this, okay? Just like this.”
He thrusts into his palm, eyes rolling back briefly as he rubs his weeping slit over your tongue.
Two clones you haven’t seen before kneel beside you. One reaches out and cups your breast, rolling your nipple between thumb and forefinger. A ripple of pleasure and a little moan tell him all he needs to know. He gives the other attention while the other runs his fingers up and down your arm in a gentle caress.
Hardcase pushes his cock into your mouth, groaning as he releases, coating your tongue and throat.
“Oh, hell,” Jesse pants, hips slamming into you. His eyes are fixed on your face. Staring at your open mouth as Hardcase removes himself and reveals the mess he left on your tongue.
Jesse’s eyes close, brow furrowing in pleasure as he buries the full length of himself, filling you just like Fives did.
It's good. It's so good.
The sensation of hands on your body isn't foreign anymore. Hardcase moves when Jesse finishes, stroking your hair, and leaning down to kiss your forehead. It’s a surprising thing. Almost too intimate and private for something like this.
“We’ll be right there.” Hardcase gestures at the door. “Nothing is going to happen unless you want it to.”
He brushes his thumb across your cheek and then pushes himself up to standing. He’s tucking himself back into his body suit just as Jesse zips his, moving toward a pile of armor piled on a nearby bunk.
Kix is back, turning you onto your stomach, instructing you to raise your backend into the air. A clone whose name you don’t know drops between your parted legs and eases inside. Your head falls to the crook of your elbow, and you’re lost again.
Words are murmured around you. There are grunts, groans of pleasure from behind you as clone trooper after clone trooper drives into your cunt. You’re aching and overstimulated. Hanging on by a mere fraction.
Fingers on your nipples. On your clit. It makes you see white. Makes your back arch as liquid pleasure blooms inside your core again. Over and over until you’re a quivering mess. A clone pulls out, and you barely have time to mourn the loss of him when another slots between your legs with fingers falling to your clit as he slips inside with a groan.
You’re panting now. Your voice is gone. This clone is drenched in smoke. You smell it. A lot of them smell like that. Like they’ve stepped from the battlefield, adrenaline pumping through their veins, and you’re the only thing they have to satiate the screaming frenzy in their blood.
Your cunt throbs at the thought. “If you don't hurry up…”
A laugh. Then, hands on your shoulders as you’re held flush against the hips of an unknown trooper.
The next one murmurs low, sweet words you can't hear over the roaring in your ears. When this one drives in, it’s comforting. His presence is solid. And he’s the gentlest of the bunch.
But his fingers are not. They play with your clit as he rolls his hips in exaggerated slowness. This one wants to draw it out, and you’re not upset about it in the slightest. It isn’t long until you’re clenching around him. He withdraws and releases onto your back.
It’s fine. Your thighs are coated, and a small pool forms on the blanket below.
Your hands grip the edge of the mattress, whining at the sting, the blunt pressure of another pushing into you. This soldier groans.
You can hear another to your left and when you turn your head slightly in that direction, you see him stroking himself, working himself up to be next.
You’re a mess. An absolute wreck. The clone inside you grips your hip in a startling embrace and begins to pound. It knocks the breath from you until it comes in little wispy gasps that fall over each other. One after the other.
You glance up briefly, searching for familiarity.
Fives leans against the doorframe. He’s talking to someone, and he doesn’t seem all that happy. Not angry, but a little disappointed. He turns his head as if he’s going to look at you, but he doesn't. Fives watches someone else.
The crowd in front begins to shuffle. And a second later, they part like a breaking wave.
The clone that just shoved through the crowd stops in his tracks. He’s different from the others. He has blonde hair shaved close to his scalp. It’s not dyed, either. It’s too natural in color.
The other difference is the utter determination and concern on his face. Which quickly turns to shock. Then extreme embarrassment as realization dawns. You see it in the way his cheeks darken with color.
He turns around then and bolts back into the crowd. You catch Fives and Hardcase doubled over in laughter. But you’re drawn back to the clone behind you as his fingers fall to your clit and you’re tipping over the edge yet again.
Blurry. Everything is blurry. For a moment.
It’s like this for a while, but it isn’t dull, and it isn’t boring. They’re completely fascinated with you. Your mouth and pussy are stretched. Full. It’s clear that some have experience. Those clones aren’t shy in the least. It is also apparent which ones have only seen holovids. They blunder through it, which is sweet, and a bit amusing.
Additionally, they cannot stop touching you. A good many are fascinated with your clit, so much in fact that you stopped counting orgasms. Your breasts and nipples receive equal attention. Not to mention all the caresses. Some just want to trail their fingers across your skin.
Hands. So many hands touching and reaching. They guide you onto your back. Your arms and legs aching and sore from holding yourself up for so long.
Someone new slips between your legs. Their touch is gentle when they guide your thighs further apart, only to hook their hands underneath your knees and pull you forward.
You're relaxed enough that his cock slips inside without much effort. There’s no pressure. Just an intense feeling of fullness. You moan when his hips buck shallowly, pushing more of himself inside.
He drapes himself over you, creating a cocoon of privacy.
“Is this okay?” he asks.
Fingers fall on your throbbing clit. Perhaps it’s the one over you or someone else. You can't see through the lusty haze clouding your vision. He pushes into your cunt, groaning at the lewd squelch of others spend inside of you.
“I’m—” Belly full. Snug, and tight, and— “Good,” you whimper, arching your back as he pushes more of his length inside.
Your nipples are teased. Pussy full when he finally bottoms out with a moan.
“It's so good—”
He fucks you slow, steady. Savoring the tight clench of you around him.
On your hands and knees, you didn’t know who was behind you. But this trooper is draped over you like a lover. It’s intimate and unexpected.
“What’s your name?” Your voice is quiet and raspy. And at first, you don’t think he hears, but then the clone looks you in the eye.
“Mixer,” he answers.
“Hello, Mixer.” You give him a soft smile and color blooms in his cheek at the sound of your voice. Even though your arms and legs ache, you wrap both around him, encouraging Mixer to continue. He props himself on his elbows. Lets his head fall froward until his lips are a whisper against your neck.
Mixer’s pelvis is pressed against your clit, and rocks against it perfectly when he rolls his hips. He murmurs about how good you are. How pretty you look. How much he wants to stay like this. Mixer’s hand tangles in your hair and he rotates your head so you’re looking him in the eye.
Every thrust of his hips punches the air from your lungs. He releases your head, then pushes himself up, wrapping his arms around your hips to pull you up and onto his lap. Now, you’re upright, straddling him. His hands fall, sliding over your ass cheeks before moving to your hips to grip them roughly, bouncing you once, twice on his cock.
“Stars,” he chokes. “You look good.”
“That she does,” comes a voice from behind.
Hands stroke up the length of your back before coming around your neck, only to bend you backward. Someone claims you with their mouth. Mixer continues to fuck upward into you while this new clone devours every moan that slips between your lips.
Hands roam your body. They glide across your flesh, touching everywhere and nowhere all at once. It’s not enough. You want to be consumed.
The unknown clone releases your mouth but keeps a firm grip on your neck.
“Open up for me.”
“Kriffing hell, Redeye,” Mixer growls as two fingers slide into your open mouth and rub against your tongue. Redeye tastes clean. Fresh. Like he’s just stepped out of the shower. He thrusts them in tandem with the rolls of Mixer’s cock. It’s a filthy melody of moans, grunts, and the fleshy snap of Mixer’s pelvis and thighs slapping against yours.
Redeye strokes your hair, pushing the mess of it out of your eyes, and murmurs about how good you’re being. How you’ve made everyone here happy. The soft praise prickles over your in a warming glow. Floods your vein with heat and fire. You take what they give you and try not to get lost in it. But it’s growing harder. You’re nearly at your end.
Mixer’s face is scrunched and pained. He’s trying to last, but he might not. Redeye reaches around with his free hand and pushes a single finger against your sensitive clit. His soft voice at your ear permeates around you like the hazy burn of blaster fire. It’s a heavy weight against your senses as Mixer stretches your cunt with a deep thrust. It makes you keen low in your throat, muffled by the messy drag of knuckles on the roof of your mouth.
You fall over the edge, shuddering from the pleasure that blankets you from all sides until you fall into Mixer’s embrace and Redeye removes his fingers from your mouth. Mixer’s hands are steady on your hips, keeping you up, keeping you grounded as he works himself to completion. Redeye whispers scorched words of bliss in your ear through gritted teeth.
Redeye leans down, tongue running along your swollen bottom lip as Mixer increases his thrusts to a stuttering burst. It’s intense. Overwhelming. As if you’re surrounded by a dense fog of pleasure and musk. The moan Mixer lets out makes your core ache. He buries himself deep, hips flush against yours as he spills deep inside.
“You look good with your cunt full, cyar’ika,” mutters Redeye against your swollen lips as his teeth playfully suck on your bottom lip.
You can't speak. The only noise you make is a gentle purr that has your cunt clenching around Mixer’s still inserted cock.
Mixer presses kisses to the curve of your jaw. Then your neck as he slowly lifts you off his softening cock.
“Yeah, she does,” slurs Mixer, rubbing his lips over the curve of your shoulder. He pulls back enough to glance around at the clones loitering around. “Who's next?”
Everything blurs into a fever dream of hands and tongues, and the delicious stretch of your cunt as they stuff you full of them. Filthy words are whispered into your ear as they grow bolder with your body.
Redeye gets you off just by moving his palm over your clit until you clench around the cock that’s currently splitting you open. He licks up your tears as the clone currently between your thighs pulls you flush again them, slamming up into you until your breathing is nothing but chocked cries.
You were made for them. And you never want to leave. Forget the credits. You’ve never been worshipped like this. Touched and fucked like there is no one else they want.
You’re lifted off one cock only to be pulled down onto another. Redeye guides your hips down until you're seated on his cock. The blunt head presses, then slides home, bottoming out with a deep groan. His hands are reverent as they run across your flesh.
You feel a little stripped down to the marrow, pulverized under his wanting hands. Redeye takes you with utter possession. As if you’re his. When he presses into your womb to fill you with his release, Redeye bites down on the space between your neck and shoulder, sucking and licking until a mark blooms.
It’s more pleasure than pain and you don’t care that he’s left a mark. You’re completely into it. When he lets go, you find his mouth, sliding your tongue inside for a taste. He growls low in his throat.
It would be a lie to say you hate the way it feels to be so full of them. To have their taste on your tongue, sticking to the back of your throat, pooling in your belly, your pussy, your guts.
Redeye breaks the kiss. A contented smile spreads across his face as he glances over your shoulder at two troopers kneel next to you.
“She’s all yours, Charger.”
Charger elbows the trooper next to him. “You up for this, Denal?”
The one named Denal nods.
Charger and Denal drag you away soon after Redeye finishes, petting your messy hair away from your sticky, sweaty forehead, and splitting you apart between them. You scream into Charger’s chest as he holds you open for Denal to rut into from behind like a man starved. Possessed. Charger coos in your ear when an unknown trooper reaches out and shoves his cock into your gaping mouth, choking you on the thick of him.
“Relax your throat for Appo, cyar’ika. That’s right. Good girl.”
You're full and sore and you feel like one massive wound. Broken. Battered. Hardly clinging to reality when his cock slips free with a wet squelch. Whatever dripples onto your chin is quickly wiped away.
You’ve lost count of everything. The time, your orgasms, and how many clones have found a home between your thighs. It’s more than you’ve ever serviced at once. A small voice in your brain begins to blow the horn of shame.
And yet…
You feel full in a way you'd never been before. Satiated and stupidly happy. That little voice disappears as Denal pulls out and helps Charger lay you out flat on your back, a blissed-out smile tugging on the corners of your mouth.
“Liked it, did you?”
You don't have the capacity for speech. Words escape you.
Instead, you moan, low and needy, and feel your belly quiver when Charger’s eyes flash with something primal. Like smoke from dying embers. You’re not nearly done yet even though your body is screaming for rest.
It's good. It's—
Footsteps. A hush. A shadow falls over you.
“Decided to join in after all, eh captain?”
The blonde clone from before stands before you. His hands are hot on your sensitive flesh. He says nothing as he crouches down where Charger and Denal dragged you, but his eyes are liquid fire when he stares at the mess. You’re likely drenched with more than just sweat. It’s on your chin, leaks from your pussy, and coats your breasts and stomach.
“Dank farrik,” Appo murmurs, a bit dazed. He'd spent himself on your face only moments ago, and when your glassy eyes fall to him, you find him staring at the blonde clone.
“Don’t ruin her, Rex.”
Rex doesn’t respond. The only thing you notice is a slight quiver in his jaw.
“Ruin me?” you manage to say. Surprising, since your throat is sore, and you haven’t spoken a coherent word in what feels like hours.
Appo chuckles as he stuffs himself back into his body suit. Charger rubs the back of his neck. Denal shrugs sheepishly. Rex doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest. Instead, he holds out a hand and gestures.
Hesitantly, you grab it, and Rex hauls you up to your feet, bringing you close to his body. He angles himself in such a way that you’re shielded from the rest of the room. Unlike most of the clones hanging around, Rex is in full armor other than his helmet which is nowhere in sight.
But he doesn’t remove his clothes. Nor does he bend you over or lay you down as if to mount you. Rex places a hand on your lower back and gently guides you away toward a nearby bunk. You stop at one and you lean against it, the tired achy soreness creeping up quickly.
A familiar clone walks up next to Rex.
It’s Kix.
“Are you okay? Do you need a break?”
You nod, not trusting your voice. Kix tosses a blanket over your body and reaches for something, and in the next moment you have refreshingly cold water. The first sip is lovely. The second is even better. And soon, you gulp the whole thing down.
“How is that?” Rex asks.
“Perfect. Could I have more?”
“Of course.” Kix hands the bottle to a trooper and it’s instantly replaced with another.
“Slowly,” he says as you begin to chug. “You’ll make yourself sick.”
Reluctantly, you do so.
Rex looks you over and then turns to Kix. “Bring me a towel. A damp one, please. Warm water if you can.”
Kix nods and takes off.
Rex stands guard but no one bothers you. In fact, everyone in the room acts like you’re not there. Almost as if they’re allowing you some privacy in a public space.
You rest your head against Rex’s shoulder. Even shut your eyes for a bit. You must fall asleep briefly because you awaken at some point without any idea of how long you’ve slept. Yet Rex is still there, leaning against the leg of the bunk, arms wrapped around you, holding you up while he looks at a datapad. He’s reading something that rolls across the screen.
Groaning softly, you turn in his embrace. Rex glances away from the screen.
“How are you feeling?”
“Sore,” you say. “But good.”
“We’ll get you cleaned up.”
Kix reappears holding a towel and a small bowl with water. Rex keeps one arm around you while he hands the datapad off to Kix. Kix exchanges the towel for the datapad and holds out the bowl with the water.
Rex dips the towel in.
“Open your legs for me if you can.”
It’s a bit difficult but you manage. Rex lowers his hand between your legs and starts to wipe away the mess. He eventually returns it to the water, brings it out again, and continues to clean. He takes his time, careful of your tender spots. When you’re clean between your legs, he works the towels over your stomach and breasts, then, finally, your face.
It’s refreshing. A renewal. Every inch feels clean and brand new.
Rex works the towels over your neck, his eyes gazing over your body. But it isn’t a sultry look. He’s checking to see if he missed any spots. Rex rinses out the towel one more time and then presents it to Kix.
Kix nods before locking the datapad and grabbing the towel, tossing it over his shoulder.
“Do you want to continue? If not, I’ll find you a private corner to rest in. No one will bother you.” Kix looks earnest which is funny because his cock was down your throat not that long ago.
You take a deep shuddering breath. “Yes.”
“Yes…to which?”
“To continue.”
“Oh.” Kix tucks the datapad under his arm. He looks around, a frown forming on his face.
“Stay here,” he instructs before striding off.
“It’s not like I could even if I wanted to,” you mutter. Rex chuckles and tucks you closer.
“Kix has only two modes. Medic, and everything else.”
You don’t answer. Instead, you lick your lips, glance down at the floor before looking into Rex’s eyes.
“What happens next?”
Rex’s gaze flicks in your direction. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” you swallow. “Are you taking me next?”
A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Do you want me to?”
Yes. Very much.
You turn away but Rex captures your chin and forces you to look at him.
“Do you want me to?” he asks again. He speaks slowly. Enunciating each word.
You nod.
“That’s not enough. I need a verbal yes, cyar’ika.”
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
Rex is important. You know he is. What did Fives say when you were first presented to him? That scary looking Mandalorian asked to speak with the commanding officer, to which Fives had mentioned Rex, and that he wasn’t there at the moment.
“Yes…please?”
Rex’s laugh is low and sweet. Sticky like syrup. “You’re missing a crucial detail.”
It dawns on you suddenly and you can’t believe you’ve forgotten.
“Yes, sir.”
“There it is,” Rex purrs. He glances over at a returning Kix, only for the medic to immediately back away to go preoccupy himself elsewhere. Rex adjusts his stance, pushes your back into the bunk’s leg.
“Do you know how to remove armor?”
“I can figure it out.”
Your hands run over the familiar white armor. His has subtle and not so subtle differences. Parts are welded together as if he took several different pieces and fused them together.
He indicates his kama. “This first.”
Your fingers find the buckle and it falls away from his waist easily. He takes it from you and gentle lays it down on the nearby bunk as you go for his pauldrons. Next are his arms. Then his chest. Every piece reveals more and more of the black body suit underneath until the only thing left is the armor on his legs.
Rex removes those even while he keeps an arm around your waist. He doesn’t need to. It’s unnecessary, but it’s nice. Comforting. It’s giving you a sense of privacy and intimacy. Your fingers dig into his upper arms. You’re looking over his shoulder at the room beyond. Still, everyone is staying a respectful distance.
Don’t ruin her, Rex.
That thought swirls in the back of your mind. What did Denal mean by that? Is he rough? Does he fuck brutal and fast?
You don't know what it means until you look down at Rex. The air in your lungs catches as your eyes widen. He's huge. Fat and throbbing. Pearly beads leak down the absurd length of him. It twitches when he catches you staring at him.
“Rex…”
His hand fists the base. His other hand lifts your left leg enough so that you can rest your foot on the edge of the bunk. He taps the head of his cock against your cunt.
“Can you take me, cyar’ika?”
You don't think you can, not at all, but—
The room fills with low conversation. Murmured words. The clones lingering on the edges avert their gaze.
Your belly lurches. Heat simmers inside of you once again.
Your eyes find his, and you lay back on the bunk, knees parting. Inviting. Your tongue rolls over your bottom lip. Filthy, wanton ideas take root in your head. Grow branches and make a home.
“Fill me up, sir.” It’s out of your mouth before you even have time to process what you’ve said.
Rex snarls.
And doesn't wait. Doesn't touch you with softness, or reverence. His hands are branding, white-hot, when they fall to your thighs, and push our knees to your chest. His eyes are glued to the seam of your cunt.
You're wrecked. Ruined. It feels like you’ve had all of them except him, and your belly flips with a muddled slurry of want as the head of his cock slips over the milky mess beginning to leak out again.
“Take a deep breath for me.”
On the exhale, Rex pushes the head into your cunt. He growls when your body parts for him, sucking him in deep. Rex fills you up until your belly bulges with the length of him. He moans at the sight.
He fucks you in long, slow, deep plunges that knock against your core. His gaze slides to your face and then to the stretch of your cunt swallowing him to the hilt. It's intense. Dizzying. You feel pushed past your breaking point. Split apart and reassembled into something new and vulnerable. Like a balm that burns before it soothes.
His thrusts are so very different from the soft way he gazes at you. It’s like a physical weight. Rex’s stare is all-consuming and slams into your chest with each roll of his hips. Rex is nudging you back to that precipice you’ve fallen from so many times tonight.
But the gentle, almost possessive, way he touches you isn't. It’s delicious and you want it to continue forever.
“I can see me in your belly. Look at how full you are, cyar’ika.”
Rex’s words end in a rasping snarl as he brutally pistons his cock into your cunt. His hand falls to your belly, feeling the swell, and the pressure.
You don't think you can fall over the edge again. Your head is a slurry of intense pleasure. You feel like you're barely clinging to reality.
It's not good enough, though. Because you want Rex to know you’re enjoying this. You want him to feel you clench around him. His fingers find your clit, pressing against the tender button until you're bucking against him, trying to get away from the agonizing static buzzing through your core.
“I want to feel you come undone around me.”
You can’t.
You really can't. But Rex doesn't relent. He shoves himself into your cunt until you see stars flash across your vision.
If you won't go willingly, he'll drag you there instead.
A sharp thrust has your mind exploding. Your nails press into his shoulders, desperate to hang on to something tangible. To something real. They dig deep until the moons fill with blood. It makes him groan. Deep. Low. Like burning coals.
A sharp whimper has him growling into your neck, a satisfied noise he can't bite off, can't stifle.
Rex likes it. Likes spreading you open, and watching you squirm. Likes the flash of intensity that flickers across your face when he buries himself deep. Likes when your eyes widen with surprise when he hits an unexpected spot. Likes the scrunch of your brow, the wrinkles in your nose, the deep, punctured gasps that spill from your gaping mouth,
He misses nothing. Rex’s stare is branding.
And then when he bottoms out, when his cock is fully seated inside, he lifts his gaze. He stares at you, then. Watching, almost impassively, as you grit your teeth from the stretch of taking him to the hilt.
A slow roll of his hips tests your resolve. It’s a harsh grind of his cock nestled taut against the opening of your womb. It has you singing. Crying out for him.
He won't stop until you break. Until you shatter.
His hands are hot when they grasp the soft skin behind your knees, pinning them down against your chest as he fucks you deep. Until you grab at the bedding and mewl his name. Broken, now, by his cock.
Rex is a storm.
Unexpected and ferocious in its intensity. He devours you until you're dizzy with the brutal way he takes and takes. The words from your lips beg for mercy.
None comes.
It hits. The unrelenting build blooming and breaking open until you’re nothing but fire. The air in your lungs is liquifying, flowing from your throat like rainfall.
Rex thrusts harder. Hits something that has you lurching forward, forehead pressing into his shoulder. You spasm around him until he growls in your ear. His thighs widen, pitching his hips low as fucks into you.
It’s a touch savage. A bit feral. Your leg slips from his hold and falls against his thigh.
Your breath is wispy and thin. It isn't enough to quench the ache in your chest, nor is it enough to truly let you slip into blissful oblivion. He brings you to the brink, allows you to gaze over the edge, but lets you go no further. His grip is unyielding. It burrows into you.
With black falling over your vision, you can feel everything. There is a startling clarity that rolls through you. You feel each ridge and vein of his cock as he slams it into you, prying you open as he steals all the air from your lungs.
He releases with a grunt that sounds like it was dragged through ash. Liquid pleasure blooms when you feel him twitch inside of you, and all you can do is cling to his muscled shoulders as you both ride out the pleasure.
There is nothing in your lungs except the scent of him.
“Are you alright?” he murmurs, eyes dark and hazy.
Your eyes nearly roll back into your head when he thrusts shallowly.
“Yes,” you whimper, voice shredded and wrecked.
It feels like the end. Like you'd been spat out on the wrong side of a storm and thrust into a battle you weren't prepared for. Yet, you won. There is victory in the ache that thunders through your joints. A hard-fought war that left you a victor.
A familiar face, Fives, appears in your vision. He’s on the other side of the bunk. He strokes your hair, and whispers kind things as Rex lifts himself off you. Even as he does so, he keeps you shielded from the rest of the room as he picks up his armor and begins to return it to his body.
Rex and Fives speak to each other in low voices.
They take turns touching you. Caring for you. Rex makes you drink water, his eyes still sleek with the remnants of pleasure. Fives supports your shoulders when you struggle to sit up and take a sip. He has a towel pressed to your cheeks, cleaning up the leftover mess. Rex’s hand clench yours tight when the bottle shakes in your grasp. He is there to hold it steady.
Fives hasn't taken his eyes off you once since this started. He’s been in the room the whole time, even if you couldn’t see him clearly. You meet his stare. He tips his chin.
“Keep drinking,” instructs Rex as he pushes himself entirely to standing. Fives takes up a blanket and wraps it around your shoulders. It envelops you, bringing a tender warmth you desperately needed.
Rex glances toward the door and frowns. “Where did Echo go?”
Fives snorts. “Probably went to the shared room out front. Want me to go find him?”
Rex only nods, which is enough because Fives takes off, only to come back a few minutes later with another clone. The one named Echo stands at attention, but his eyes keep falling in your direction. You give me a devious smile and he blushes.
“Fives and I are taking her to the showers. Have some of the men clean up this mess and then stand guard near the shower doors. I don’t want anyone bothering her while she’s in there.”
“Yes, sir.” He turns and begins rounding up a few men while Rex turns back in your direction.
“I’m going to carry you. Hold on to me, okay?”
You hold out your arms and Rex picks you up, bridal style, and begins to make his way out of the shared barrack space. Fives follows, mostly to act as a buffer. When someone approaches, Fives shoos them off.
“It’s over. You’ll have to get some elsewhere.”
Fives hits the button on the shower doors and Rex brings you into the humid room. He sets you down on a bench and goes off to some sort of machine on the wall.
Your dress is long gone. Probably ripped off your body at some point. He punches a few buttons and then waits. The machine in the wall churns then rapid fires off a few quick beeps. Rex opens the door and brings over what looks like lounge wear.
“The clones wear these to bed when they’re stationed here on leave. It’ll be a little big, but we can make adjustments.” He turns toward the row of showers. “Pick whichever one you want and take as long as you need. Everything is already imbedded into the wall at each stall.” Rex nods his head toward the door. “I’ll stay right here on this bench. Make sure no one bothers you. Fives and Echo will be right outside the door to make sure I don’t have to reprimand anyone.”
He sits down and politely turns away. “Enjoy yourself. Call for me if you need anything.”
On shaky legs, you pick a stall. The hot water is blistering but wonderful. You don’t know how long you stand under it’s warming downpour, but you don’t turn it off until you feel absolutely clean.
Even after you emerge, wipe down, and dress, Rex still maintains a polite distance and pointedly looks the other way. It’s strange.
You clear your throat.
Rex glances over. “All done?”
You nod and hold out your arms. The clothes are way too big but it’s fine. You’ve rolled it up where you need it.
“Do you need me to carry you?”
“I’ll be fine.” Just as you say it, your legs start to give out. Rex leaps up and snags you before you fall to the floor.
“You’ll be fine?”
You smile sheepishly and Rex laughs to himself as he picks you up and hits the button to exit the showers. Echo and Fives lean against the wall but instantly become alert when they spot Rex.
“Echo set up a quiet space over there.” Fives indicates the direction with his head. “No one will bother her.”
“Good.” Rex adjusts his grip and the four of you head toward a different room. This one is already partially dark. Troopers sleep here or read quietly in their bunks with small reading lights. They hardly glance in your direction.
At the very back of the room, a bunk has been made up with extra pillows and blankets. Kix is there lining up water bottles. He steps aside as Rex places you in the nest.
“No one will touch you. I promise. Rest. And I’ll come get you when it’s time.”
You go to answer, to affirm, but you’re asleep before your head hits the pillow.
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