clickonmedotexe

[clickonmedotexe]

In hindsight, Rex should've known better than to expect that he could just leave his husband like that without consequences. Granted, it wasn't what he intended but that didn't matter, did it? Anytime he made a mistake, he deserved to be punished, whether it was his intention or not.

He kept on following wherever McConnell led him to, even as an anxious knot started to form in his stomach. Should he have waited by the desk instead? What if McConnell is leading him in the wrong direction?

The questions, ready to be voiced, died in his throat when he saw those odd machines. It didn't take a genius to figure out that they were not used for good and Rex had his own fair share of unpleasant experiences with torture. He turned to McConnell to ask him what he was doing, but McConnell beat him to it.

"What-" He began. Anxiety was giving way to dread, which was giving way to panic. "I don't- sir, I think you might've gotten the wrong impres- no, wait. Wait-!"

Rex tried to evade the machine's restraints but he wasn't fast enough to get away before his arms were locked down tightly. His panic only increased as a device came to rest over his head, prompting him to think off all the terrible ways it could hurt him. Unfortunately for Rex, he had a pretty vivid imagination. From his skull cracking open like an overripe melon to impromptu lobotomy, none of the scenarios bode well for him.

"You've got the wrong person sir, I am not who you think I am, I- please no, wait, no don't touch that-" The rest of his pleas were drowned in choked cries as a powerful surge of electricity discharged from the collar. It bit at McConnell's hands too, a fierce, white hot pain that could make someone's body seize up, or stop their heart. Rex had a series of old burn scars around his neck where he had suffered this agony many times over.

He glanced over to the man as he guided him upstairs. "Prescott?" He repeated, shaking his head. "No, it's not familiar at all, I'm afraid. I'll be sure to ask around, of course." He assured him, despite having no intention of letting anyone else know Rex was here at all. For now, at least.

McConnell led Rex through a dull, grey hall towards a door that a small sign off to the side labelled as 'INSTALLATION.' Through it was a wide, dark room lined with rows of machines that had clearly been (mostly) lying dormant for a while. While McConnell pulled him closer and continued pressing forward, the hand on Rex's shoulder tightened, almost painfully so.

"Now, I know you couldn't possibly have just forgotten all about little, old me, right, Rex?" He grinned, despite every word he said dripping with venom. "I really was looking forward to working with you before you betrayed me. Ah, but that's all water under the bridge, now, isn't it? This time, I'll make sure you never even dream of trying to get away from me."

With a wave of McConnell's hand, the machine behind Rex sprang to life, moving and contorting itself impossibly towards him. Rings of metal locked around his arms and pulled him in towards the machine. A strange device came to rest over his head as it hummed gently, craning his down while McConnell approached. "Best to get this out of the way." He snarled, pointing a finger at Rex's collar before it slipped from his neck and into McConnell's hand. "Don't worry. You won't be needing it, now. And I'm sure your precious little husband won't mind, once I'm through with him, too."

[clickonmedotexe]

Warnings: implications of abuse and violence, talks of wanting to abuse your partner, violence while drunk

On the second glass of whiskey for the night and Rex's thoughts inevitably drift towards the face of his husband's.

Cas is always on his mind, like an ear worm he can never quite get rid of, forgotten words lingering behind to annoy him with their elusiveness.

The memory isn't the issue, though. He remembers Cas well. Too well. It's like all of his senses are attuned to remembering him, tormenting him with the knowledge of what he'll never get back.

Cas' dark hair falling into his face, half buried into the pillow and grumbling in response to Rex brushing it away. The way his shoulders shake with laughter when he's forcing him to watch one of the godawful movies and Rex is making faces like a dog getting a bath. How his shoulders tense when he doesn't want Rex to touch him, when he wants to run but he doesn't and Rex uses his hesitance to defend himself to kiss him anyway, reminding him of how far he'll go to keep Cas by his side.

Sometimes Rex aches with how badly he wants to pull him into his arms and hug him tightly again, protecting him from the world and ever feeling that stinging loneliness Rex himself is all too familiar with.

And there are times when blind rage takes him over, blood lust, the urge to see Cas afraid, see him cry, beg, promise Rex anything if only he'll stop hurting him. In those moments he can imagine it vividly, how it would feel to grab his hair and strike until he sees red. Until Cas' pleas become wet and weak from the violence.

"Fuck." Rex mutters, rubbing his hand over his face. "Fuck."

No one else has made him feel like this in a long, long time, not since he left Archimedes. Cas is his first long-term relationship in a while, the only one who stuck around willingly to see Rex's other side.

Except of course, for the hostage in the basement, who had little control over what sides of Rex he gets to see. More often than not, blood rushes to Rex's head when he lays eyes on him and yet his prisoner seems resigned to the violence, never fighting back, but never willingly giving Rex anything he asks for either.

Sometimes he reminds him so much of Cas.

Rex finishes the whiskey and pours himself another.

He doesn't need Cas, he decides, even as his chest feels like it's caving in with the overwhelming want to just see his damn husband again. He'll build himself a new Cas. One who can't run away this time. One who will never fall in love with anyone else again, because Rex will be hisentireworld.

He gets up unsteadily. The glass of whiskey sloshes over his hand but he barely notices as he stumbles into Cas' room. The familiar warm smell of everything he's lost is enough to buckle his knees but he preserves, picking up a worn hoodie off the ground and pressing his face into it.

Cas surrounds him and for a fleeting moment, he can imagine he's back there, back home with his face buried into his sleeping lover and everything is as it should be.

The moment passes, frustratingly brief. Rex carries the hoodie out of the room and to the basement door. It takes him longer to unlock it while drunk but now he's in a fog, mind clouded over with alcohol and bad decisions as he stumbles down the steps and to his hostage's room.

The blond man blinks blearily at him as Rex turns on the light. He looks resigned. Rex hates it. He wishes he would fight back. He wishes he would scream and beg and cry. Or bite and kick when Rex got too close.

Instead he looks at him so tiredly, like a lamb bearing its neck to the butcher, knowing it can't escape the bindings on its feet.

"Cas." Rex can hear he's slurring but he doesn't care. He chucks the hoodie at the man just as he opens his mouth to insist he's not Cas, his name is Charlie and he shouldn't be here. "Shut the fuck up. Hate it when you prattle on and on for fucks sake's just be quiet."

There's the threat of violence in the air, it hangs between them like a heavy fog of possibility. If he unfocuses, he can imagine it is Cas cowering before him. He really likes this idea.

"You know, it's about fucking time I taught you some manners."

The door swings shut. Anything that happens in this room now is between Rex and Charlie, no one would be around to hear or run to the rescue. And Rex isn't feeling merciful tonight.

[clickonmedotexe]

pet dog named boyfriend

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Rex doesn't wince this time when McConnell puts a hand on his shoulder, but he does look over the screens wistfully. He doesn't like being away from his husband for so long, it makes him nervous. What if something had happened? Or what if he is meant to be somewhere and now he's failing to show up because he's with….

"Alright, sir." He says automatically, not bothering to fight back or voice any of his concerns right now. Maybe it is better to stay in one place and wait for him to show up. This man, he would see if someone else entered, he's sure. It's best if Rex doesn't wander around aimlessly looking in a place he's never been.

"I don't believe I've introduced myself yet. My name is Rex Wagner, husband of Aleksander Prescott. Perhaps you've heard of him before?"

It's worth a shot. For someone to own an Office like this they must be of high standing or at least know those who are.

"It's my Office." He reiterated with a shrug. "I watch over all that happens and control every little thing you see." Unfortunately for Rex, not quite a lie, nor exaggeration.

He stepped towards Rex, resting a hand on his shoulder once again. "I'm certain he'll turn up eventually!" He assured him with a smile. "He couldn't have gone far. We'll find him."

I'll find him. He thought. And when he did, he'd remind Rex of just how much control he has....

"Why don't you come upstairs with me? You can get comfortable while we search the building." He offered, gesturing towards the stairs that had appeared in place of the door they entered.

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hey sexy what time do you plan on being done grieving

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"Seems like someone can't handle a little bit of biting."

"Seems like someone can't handle a little bit of teasing~"

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🔐? (a closed padlock & a key)

Send me 🔐 for a tip on how to make my muse trust yours

Well right now it's going to be difficult xP But jokes aside, Eric did gain some of Rex's trust by letting him talk about difficult things and also sharing things from his past. In his eyes they kinda bonded over being "bad" fathers x')

Even if now Eric diiiid tell Dad!Jon and others what happened, it was still a big weight off Rex's chest to be able to share that.

[clickonmedotexe]

you should come within biting range. no reason

[clickonmedotexe]

Send me 🔐 for a tip on how to make my muse trust yours

[clickonmedotexe]

It's been a while since he saw Mary, even without makeup or her usual adorable dresses, Rex couldn't help but marvel at her beauty - for the 0.2 seconds he was able to be distracted by her. It was good to see her. Enough that for a moment, his angry expression faded and he actually leaned into her hands as she came over to touch him. God it's been too long…

But the moment is shattered, of course, by his predicament.

"Mary Belle, sweetheart." He tries not to sound like he's begging. "Can you tell him to fuck off. I don't - no! I don't need to be hot and bothered or whatever the fuck you're yapping about, Nowak, can you- gaH. STOP THAT."

The hands at his waists kept him squirming around like a fish on a hook, it's not his fault it tickled badly when Eric squeezed him like that but right now Rex was just pissy at everything.

He tries to shake his head again to avoid the muzzle altogether but to no avail. It slips on. At least now Eric's fingers are safe from his snapping teeth - Rex would never attempt to bite Mary.

"Mary, darling, baby. Stop siding with this asshole. Please."

Mary had gotten more used to taking care of herself again, but when she stepped outside of her 'house,' she was still wrapped in a long robe without a trace of her usual makeup. She had only really made out her name when Eric called her, and she finally smiled when she spotted him and Rex. Poor little thing, so furious with Eric, and wrapped up all nice like a gift for her....

She pulled the robe tighter around herself as she slowly approached Rex. "Awh, what's wrong, darling?" She cooed, cradling the small portion of his face not smothered by Eric's own hands. "What's there to be upset about? Two people who want to hold and take care of you? That doesn't sound so bad, to me." She giggled as her thumb gently stroked his cheek.

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He's visibly furious, seething with hatred, but his face is steadily getting redder the more Eric teases and touches him. Part of it is the anger, yes, but part of it is the embarrassment and a hint of fluster. For all of his time romancing various Office dwellers, he's still not used to being handled with care, even if it is just to mock him.

It doesn't help either that Eric's hands are all over his waist, it certainly doesn't make Rex any squirmy, just more desperate to escape.

"Shut up." He hisses, redundantly. He already knows Eric doesn't care what he says. "Shut up- for fucks sake. Don't drag Mary into this, she's not going to want to see me-"

He didn't want to go into all the details of why he didn't want Mary involved. Mostly because she had trouble looking at him without crying. Rex's fault, of course, but for all his guilt of hurting her, he doesn't think this is the way to make it better.

Instead of explaining any of that to Eric, he tries to bite the nearest hand.

"Oh no, you knew exactly what you were going to receive from Neil's files. It's too late to make excuses— tsk. Sweethead, honeybun, pumkin, babygirl, sunshine, you can't stab your way out of it this time."

More of invisible hands appear out of thin air, first one keeps rubbing into Rex's scalp, second one holds his head away from shaking it off, third and fourth ones are running down and around his blanketed waist, to make sure his hand keeps failing at taking his knife out.

"Aren't you cute when you are trying to be all pissed off like this, pet~ I am sure Mary would appreciate this picture of your face here very much so. Ahem. MARY? ~OH MARYY, WOULD YOU PLEASE BE A DEAR AND GIVE US A LITTLE HELP WITH TRAINING REXY INTO DEVELOPING A BETTER ATTITUDE HERE~?"

His sweet toned voice echoes into the Office hallways now. He clearly isn't going to shut up unless Rex finally lets himself give up for now.

[clickonmedotexe]

he’s got that previously neglected shelter dog rizz. he looks like he wants to quietly sit next to you on the couch while you watch TV

[clickonmedotexe]

Rex tests the strength of the blanket, trying to squirm his way out of the soft, cozy confines but he can't get it to unravel. It's too strong for him to rip as well, though if he manages to grab his knife, he could cut it.

It's getting harder to focus on anything but his seething anger and the insistent, pleasant hands on his scalp, sending electricity down his spine and coaxing him to just give in and let Eric do whatever he wanted as long as he keeps petting him like that.

It's only Rex's stubbornness that keeps him from submitting at all.

"What I do with my time is my own fucking business." Rex snaps. He still manages to sound as pissed off as he feels, even as his body attempts to betray him. "And I didn't choose wh- what Neil was going to fucking....send me. I didn't- didn't think it was going to be- for fucks sakes, would you stop that?!"

He shakes his head, trying to get Eric's hands off him. At the same time he attempts to move his arms pinned by his side to reach the knife in his pocket. "I'm not going to call you sir you piece of shit, I'm going to get outta this stupid fucking blanket and then I am going to kick your twink ass so hard Leonard's gonna have to collect all the pieces of you off the ground."

"I'll be honest", Eric's voice flies out as he himself stays out of his eye's reach for now. "I am not pleased with you, Rexy. For two reasons, actually."

The gentle hand is somehow getting even more insufferably gentle now as its fingers run in, rubbing inself into his scalp. Disappointment appears in his tone briefly as he resumes speaking.

"Firstly, you were wasting days away on some silly murderdreams that are not going to work out well for you anyway. All while you could have been doing literally anything else than that. Secondly, you really should have known better than digging into the traces of my irrelevant backstory. The family dramas, Rexy, they are incredibly boring and I don't want to deal with them ever again." The hand doesn't get any less gentle. "So I have been thinking… whatever shall I do to teach you to behave better... and I came up with a ✨wonderful✨ idea."

A touch of his lips ends up on the top of Rex's head. His voice gets lower and threateningly sweet as he keeps going.

"I am going to kindly give you the In Person Content you obviously wanted (or else why were you so grabby every time I showed up~?) and I am going to resume it in the very humane, very fond, very hair petting way possible for hours, until your body gives up and falls asleep or until you ask me to stop, very nicely, with a "please" and a "sir", preferably."

[clickonmedotexe]

✖ - a repressed memory ~?

CW: domestic physical abuse

The first time Aleksander hit him, he had just lost one of the fights that he was sent on. His opponent had been bigger, meaner, stronger and the fight was over pretty quickly.

Rex doesn't remember much from that night, much less the fight, except the blinding lights making him feel feverish, the noise of people screaming and jeering all around him, and the sickening feeling of broken bones grinding against each other.

He doesn't remember Aleksander patting him on the cheek before he went out to fight, telling him that he knows Rex will do him proud. And he doesn't remember the sting of the slap when Rex was dragged back out of the arena, barely able to stand from the pain of broken ribs, in front of Aleksander who now looked at him like a mangy, flea ridden mutt.

"What was that?" Aleks had demanded, his voice calm and cool with anger. "You didn't even try, did you? You went out there and humiliated me."

The sharp ache where his hand connected with Rex's face - the rings on Alek's fingers leaving behind purple bruises and a cut under Rex's eye - was muffled under the constant agony of feeling his broken ribs shift under his weight. Everything was loud and bright and the whole world spun nauseatingly. Rex just wanted to lie down somewhere cool and wait for the pain to pass, but his husband was not that merciful.

No one looked their way as he told Rex that he would not be seen with a failure and then left him behind, dizzy and confused in the fighting tent. It was an hour of trying to find a quiet place to sit before someone eventually took pity on the beaten man and brought him to the infirmary.

Aleksander had gone home by now, and only reappeared the next day later to pick up his injured dog. By then his mood had shifted and he promised Rex the best care to get him back into shape. For the next dog fight, the next chance for Rex to show what he's worth.

He doesn't recall any of this. The concussion and the pain meds served to muddy the night until it became buried in his subconscious - the only thing Rex knew was that he was not to lose under any circumstances. He represented Aleksander Prescott after all, and he was to win any fight he put him in or die trying.

[clickonmedotexe]

Memory Meme

Past experiences help shape who we are currently, how we see the world. Send in a symbol and I’ll write a drabble of one of my muse’s memories. 

–

❥ - a childhood memory

♣ - a fading memory

✂ - a vivid memory

✖ - a repressed memory

✈ - an eye-opening memory

✤ - a memory that involves romance/love

☤ - a memory of death/loss

✍ - a memory of their mother

☽ - a memory of their father

♘ - a memory of their sibling(s)

✌ - a memory of a relative

↕ - a memory that may or may not have happened

♚ - a memory of something paranormal

✓ - a sexual memory

♬ - a friend/best friend memory

[clickonmedotexe]

Send me a word and my muse will reveal a memory that has to do with it.

[clickonmedotexe]

"I bet it's a beautiful day on the Outside. Snow is falling, cars are running... on days like these, Rexys like you…"

A big soft and fuzzy blanket appears out of (seemingly) nowhere and wraps itself all around Rex in a couple of gentle layers, tightly. Someone's hand lands onto his head and rubs itself into his scalp, insufferably gentle as well.

"…Should be trained to ✨behave✨."

Rex is already tuning out Eric's voice the moment he starts talking, too lost in thoughts of murder, torture and how to get away with poisoning his ex-husband and dump him where no one will ever find his slowly dying body. It's something that's been on his mind for a few days now and he's ignored 99% of Eric's comments since then.

In hindsight, he should've known better than to think he could get away with that. The moment the blanket wraps itself around him, Rex snaps out of his murderous daydreaming and turns all of that aggressive energy towards Eric instead.

"Let me go this fucking instant, motherfucker, I fucking swear I'll-" His threats cut off with a strangled noise as hands are placed on his head. It halts the train of his thoughts straight in their tracks and Eric could see his expression bluescreen for a long moment at the sudden pleasant feeling of getting scalp pets. Still, Rex isn't ready yet to submit to his gentle doom.

"Eric." He growls, writhing in his prison. "Eric, I- fucking swear…..st-stop it!"