19, she/her, minors dni, rafe’s real wife, (if you find a good meme, pls send it divas 🙏) attempting to write, feel free to reach out to me about anything !!
likes : movies (if you talk to me about any movie, i’m gonna marry you), frank ocean, britney spears, the weeknd, writing, reading
dislikes (keep away from this blog !!) : homophobes, transphobes, sexists, racists, maga supporters, reform supporters, zionists, fascists and probably others too that I can’t remember right now
a/n: so i’ve never ACTUALLY been to a frat party and I am ALSO a virgin. so if anything is wrong… just suspend ur disbelief pls. I dont write often so if anyone has any feedback I would love to hear it!!!! This is NOT proofread so idk if it will all make sense and I lowkey feel like theres too much dialogue but I literally imagine everything like a film in my head so… sorry 😣
word count: 4.0k
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You came into the party with your girls, each of you glittering in gold and silver like disco balls. Travis Scott was blaring through the speakers, muffling the noises of college kids slurping face.
“You look hot as fuck, y/n,” your friend, Taylor, shouted over the music as you all walked in, struggling past already inebriated people spilling beer out of red solo cups over the floor of the house. You were glad as hell this wasn’t your house.
“You think so?” You smiled, a little twinkle in your eye.
You’d be lying if you said you dressed entirely for you. Sure, you loved the little sequin dress you had on, but you were hoping someone else would like it more. You and Rafe had a little thing going on for the last month. You’d hooked up a couple times, flirty texts and pictures but never labelling anything. You knew what kind of guy Rafe was, a playboy, a fuckboy, a total heartbreaker. He had a reputation on Kildare Island and it wasn’t a necessarily good or wholesome one. But fuck, you wanted him and his stupid charming face. And biceps. You didn’t wanna just be one of his hookup girls like tens of others. You wanted more, but you didn’t wanna seem stupid. So, this was the bait to get him to crack.
“I know so, babe,” your friend grinned. “Is it for… a certain someone?” She smirked, nodding towards Rafe in the centre of the room, downing a Corona.
Screw rose-tinted, you had rose-blinding glasses on - your eyes practically turning into hearts like some old-school cartoon character. It was debasing but you couldn’t help it. You were so into him. His jaw worked to swallow down the beer, his adam’s apple moving up and down as he laughed with his friends, some guy clapping him on the back of his polo shirt, dapping him up. He looked like a god to you, glowing with sweat and alcohol, standing there in his khaki shorts and backwards cap.
“God,” Taylor groaned, snapping you out of your trance. “You look like you’re making out with him in your head.”
“I am,” you smiled dreamily.
“He’s such an asshole, y/n. He didn’t reply to you for like 3 days straight, remember? He was probably fucking his 110th girl.”
“He replied last night!” you defended. “He helps his dad with his business, okay? You don’t have to assume the worst in everyone,” you rolled your eyes good-naturedly.
“I don’t assume the worst in everyone, I assume the worst in Rafe Cameron,” she laughed.
You didn’t even hear her, too busy watching him as he interacted with his friends.
“You’re so fucked, y/n,” she laughed. “Go on, go get your man.”
“Do I look okay?” You smoothed out your dress in front of her, before fixing your hair.
“Girl, you look like a model. He wouldn’t be able to resist you if you were wearing a trash bag.”
“Okay,” you smiled taking a breath. “Love you.”
“Go on, go get him before he runs off to some new shiny thing,” she grinned.
You quickly filled a cup with some vodka sprite, downing it before you made your way over to him.
He spotted you as soon as you began appearing in his peripheral vision, turning around with that shit-eating grin.
“Hey, there she is. My little party girl.”
“Hey,” you smiled.
“C’mon, give us a twirl,” he took your hand, spinning you around.
Your heart fluttered like a million butterflies, damn it. Him just looking at you had the same effect as having literal sex with him. It was so not okay.
“Pretty,” he smirked. “You wear this for me?”
“You wish,” you rolled your eyes. Yeah, you did. He knew that.
One of his friends came over with a plate stuffed with little glasses of tequila. “Shots!”
He grinned down at you. “You need a chaser, sweetheart?”
You wanted to kiss that fuckass smirk from his face.
You scoffed, “I’m good, thanks.”
“Whatever you say, sweetheart.”
“To getting wasted!” some guy slurred, raising the shot glass up as people around you clinked their shots.
You and Rafe raised your glasses.
“To getting wasted?”
“To getting wasted,” you smiled, both downing the shot at the same time.
You winced as the harsh tequila burned down your throat. “Eugh,”
Rafe passed you a cup of sprite, which you downed immediately.
“What’d I say?”
“Fuck off,” you smiled.
“You wanna try again?” He grinned, taking another shot for himself as he pressed one into your hands. “Prove you don’t need the chaser.”
“Bet.”
You both downed another shot, your face blushed as you smiled at him
“See? I’m a pro.”.
“You’re a seasoned alcoholic, baby,” he laughed, sitting down on the couch, his legs spread like he owned the whole fucking place. He basically did, to you.
“C’mon,” he tapped his thigh.
You smiled, sitting yourself across his lap, your mini-dress riding up to the edge of your ass. The liquid courage and the two shots began to make themselves known, your muscles loosening up and the warmth spreading through your body as you wrapped your arms around his neck.
“Missed you,” he mumbled in your ear as he played with the hem of your teasing dress. “Haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since the last time.”
“Oh yeah?” It was like music to your ears. “Why’d you ghost me then?”
“What, when?”
“Doesn’t matter,” you murmured. You didn’t wanna seem desperate.
“You look like a fucking snack, y/n.”
“I know. You don’t look too bad yourself,” you grinned. Understatement of the fucking year. You had to give yourself some credit, you were doing a good job at keeping the extent of your desire shoved down. At least you thought you were.
He pulled the cap off his head, messily placing it on yours. His greasy ass bangs somehow fell perfectly into place.
“Hey, I got my hair done for tonight,” you chided, slipping the cap back off.
“Oh, baby, your hair’s gonna be wrecked by the end of the night anyway,” he laughed.
“Oh really? What makes you so sure?” You had to play hard to get with a guy like him.
“You.” He grinned. “You can drop the act, y/n.”
“What act?” You furrowed your brows.
“The act where you pretend you’re not dying to fuck,” he murmured into your ear.
“Has anyone ever told you you’re cocky as fuck?”
“Tell me I’m wrong then. I’ll back off.” he raised his hands in the air with a smirk. “Cause uh, I seem to remember just a couple weeks ago, y’know, you were in my bedroom. Tiny excuses of lingerie. Begging me for more.”
“Harder, Rafe, please,” he mocked, faux-moaning in your ear.
Your cheeks burned with shame, alcohol, and lust.
You pushed him back against the sofa.
“You’re such an asshole.”
“You fucking love it,” he murmured, his eyes darting from your smokey eyes to your glossed lips. You could barely see the blue of his eyes anymore. Your heart did a series of somersaults, the tequila working its magic as you let your eyes drop down to his lips.
His hand slid up your neck and it felt like it belonged there. He pulled you in, pressing his lips into yours and intoxicating you more than any drink could. It was hot, messy, wet, desperate. You were pulled briefly out of it for a second as one of his frat brothers slapped him on the back as he passed being the couch.
“Cameron, you the man,” he laughed before passing by.
Rafe just laughed back, cocky and unbreakable.
He smoothed your hair back. “I got a room upstairs for us. It’s locked, no one else is gonna be in there,” he smirked.
“You kept a room for whatever girl you’d see first?” you teased, still trying the nonchalant act.
He shrugged leaning back, his hand coming around his mouth as if wiping some invisible stain. “Nah, was waiting for you.”
You blinked, not expecting that. Rafe Cameron didn’t just want girls, he wanted you, it seemed.
“You were waiting for me?” you asked a little quieter.
“I said it once, you don’t need me to say it again,” he rolled his eyes but he was smiling.
You couldn’t help the happiness that was so visible on your face. “But i want you to say it again.”
“Fucks sake,” he mumbled. “I, Rafe Cameron, saved a room upstairs, not just for any girl, no, but for Y/N. So that I could fuck her brains out.” He enunciated every word, teasing her.
“The end ruined it,” you smiled shaking your head.
“But that’s what we’re gonna do, am i wrong?” he smirked.
You evaded an answer, because you both knew it was an instant no.
“You turned it gross when it was going so cute,” you giggled a little, already feeling more bubbly now that the drinks had time to settle.
“Oh, baby, I can fuck cute too if that’s what you want,” he laughed. “But i know you don’t like it like that,” he murmured in your ear.
You swallowed, feeling the curling heat rise up in your stomach from his words, as a montage of shots replayed in your mind. Bathroom sink. Bent over. Hair pulled. Red handprints.
You snapped out of it, eyes focusing back on his face in front of yours as he gazed into your eyes. “Let’s go,” you mumbled.
“That’s my girl,” he smirked, helping you down as you slid off his lap, lightly slapping your ass as you turned around with a faux-chiding smile.
He took your hand leading you through the crowd of wasted people dancing, you didn’t know if it was just the alcohol but it looked like people were moving out of the way as soon as his presence was near, like he was fucking Moses parting the Red Sea.
He led you upstairs. He was an upperclassman so he had his own room in the house. Pulling the keys from his pocket he quickly unlocked the door, pushing you up against it as it shut, locking itself. The force made a couple small things fall off the shelf close by.
“Oops,” you giggled, all rosy-cheeked. “Hey, what is that?”
You leaned down to see whatever it was that fell, it looked like a figurine of some kind.
“Baby, I just got you up here and you want a fucking room tour? We dont have time for that, sweetheart,” he mumbled, already pressing sloppy kisses on your neck.
Your eyes darted around the room, unable to focus on multiple things at once, his kisses and your environment. You noticed the posters on the walls in the dark lighting. A Fight Club poster, some Kanye West album (you would have to nag him about that later), a poster of Halle Berry as a Bond girl, like it was fucking 2002. You wanted to ask him all about them, you loved being in his space. You wanted him to talk about everything in his room, explain each and every little detail while you soaked it up.
“What the fuck are you looking at?” he mumbled against your neck, before pulling back to search your glassy eyes. “Are you not into this?”
“What?” Your eyes immediately focused back on his dark blue ones, boring down at you like he was concerned about the answer. “No, I’m into it,” you nodded matter of factly with your huge pupils. “A lot.”
“Is this your room? I like it,” you smiled.
“Thanks,” he muttered. “Now shut the fuck up and focus on me, not the room, you weirdo,” he grinned, pulling you in with both hands on your cheeks, kissing your lips.
“You’re so fucking hot,” he breathed against your neck as he pushed you back on the bed. You bounced slightly, giggling as you sat back on your elbows with a smug little smile, looking like a total princess. He stood at the foot of the bed, shaking his head with a smile. “You fuck me up, you know that?”
He crawled on top of you, his body caging you in completely.
“Have you been working out more?” You blinked, the question innocently slipping from your lips. You couldn’t help it, not when his biceps were right in front of you like that. You traced one of the veins popping out with your index finger. You weren’t totally out of it, but enough so to have lowered your inhibitions a shame. Though his body probably would had the same effect on you even without the alcoholic push.
He laughed with a downright evil smirk. “You said that last time,”
“Oh… maybe you just get bigger every time. One day you wont even be able to fit in the bed anymore,” you giggled, making yourself laugh with your imagination.
“I need some fucking duct tape for your mouth,” he murmured despite his laugh. “Turn over.”
You pouted. “I like seeing your face though,”
He rolled his eyes. “I meant turn over so I can unzip your dress, dummy. I wouldn’t start from behind. I’m not an asshole.”
“Oh,” you smiled, rolling onto your stomach for him, cheek smushed adorably onto his pillow. He’d never admit it, but his heart skipped a beat at the sight. You were so goddamn cute. “But you have started from behind before.” Your brows wrinkled with confusion.
He was too busy pressing kisses to your shoulder blades as he unzipped. He pulled the sparkly dress down throwing it behind him as he took a second to admire your body. He laughed, “Oh, this is slutty as fuck.”
He smirked pulling off your lace panties, though they were more like a string.
“Jesus Christ, they’re already wet too. ’N I didn’t even do anything,” he murmured, holding them up as if to examine them, before tucking them into his back pocket.
He undid the clasp of your matching bra, not before playfully slapping your ass. You couldn’t help how a slight whimper escaped your lips, your ass moving up into his touch.
“Oh you like that, yeah? Knew you do,” he smirked, turning you back over to face him as you shrugged your bra off.
Your cheeks blushed pink. “Stop teasing, rafe.”
“What, no foreplay?” he grinned.
“I don’t mean that, I just mean- you’re just sitting there like- just- looking like that and you’re not doing anything,” you huffed, your lips in a slight pout from the frustration, and the wet, hot ache between your legs.
“Looking like what?”
“Rafe!” You couldn’t take it anymore, he was so smug.
He crawled back over you, pulling his shirt off with a smirk. “Alright, alright. Don’t worry, baby, I’ll give you what you want now. Fuckin’ impatient.”
He pressed his lips onto yours with a burning, searing need, groaning against your mouth as he pulled off, scattering kisses down your jaw and your neck. You squirmed beneath his body with quick little breaths and whimpers, slightly twitching whenever his tongue ran over a sensitive spot, brows pulled up in simultaneous pleasure and frustration. you couldn’t help but let your hands roam all over his body, palms flat against his hard toned torso as if searching for something desperately. He sucked on the thin skin of your neck, licking over it before pulling back with a sparkle in his eye.
“You’re not gonna cover that shit up with makeup, yeah?”
You shook your head as you looked up at him “I won’t.”
“Good girl,” he smirked.
You hated how it made the blood rush down your body when he called you that. He kissed down the valley of your breasts. “Perfect fuckin’ tits,” he mumbled against your skin, kneading them in his big hands, thumbs brushing over your nipples, pebbling them. You looked down and fuck, the sight alone made your pussy twitch.
“Yeah?” you breathed out. You didn’t care about anything now, nothing but his hands on your skin, the pulsing need between your legs, and the desire for his pretty words in your ears.
“Yeah, fuckin’ art,” he mumbled grinning up at you. “Best rack I ever saw.”
You rolled your eyes despite the smile. He always ruined his praise, but it still made your cheeks hot.
He pressed hot, wet kisses down your stomach, leaving a burning trail all the way down to your entrance. He looked up at you with his dark gaze as he slowly inserted a finger in. “That good?”
You gasped softly, back slightly arching off the bed at his touch. “Uh huh,” you whimpered, nodding. He pushed in and out slowly, feeling your wetness coat his finger before adding another one, the sound becoming obscene.
“Oh, fuck,” you moaned with furrowed brows as he used his thumb to stroke your puffy clit.
“You’re so fucking wet,” he mumbled, eyes locked down on your pussy as his fingers quickened in pace. Your mouth fell open, chest rising up and down, “Oh god,” you whimpered, already feeling so close. To your further frustration, he pulled his fingers out of you with his award-winning smirk.
“Wh-“
“Look at this shit. Nasty fuckin’ girl. You get this wet for everyone?” He held his fingers up, grinning as strings of your lust stretched between them.
You were both mortified and so sinfully turned on right now, you could barely form words. You shook your head, catching your breath.
He held your face, the same wet fingers pressing into your cheeks, making you squeal. “Say it. Use your words, baby.”
“No, only you,” you whispered.
“That’s fuckin’ right,” he smirked.
He sat up on his knees, undoing his belt. Your hand slid down to between your legs, circling your clit softly as you watched him.
He pushed down his pants and boxers in one. You had to bite your lip so not as to moan at the sight of him, long, thick, and hard. He gave his dick a few pumps, using the precum at the tip to stroke himself.
“You want me to use the belt on you?” He raised his brows.
You squeaked slightly in protest, shaking your head. “No.”
“Then take your hand off.”
You slid your hand back on the bed as he pulled you closer by your ankles. He settled between your legs, rubbing the head between your folds teasingly before gently slapping it onto your clit with a smirk, watching you twitch helplessly.
“Rafe, c’mon,” you whined.
“What was that?”
“Rafe, please.”
“Please what, baby? I cant help you out if I don’t know what the issue is,” he said mockingly.
“Rafe!”
“What’d I say before, sweetheart? Use your?”
“Words,” you breathed out.
“So what is it you want me to do?”
He kept rubbing his dick just at your entrance, never fully pushing in.
“Please just fuck me, Ray,” you begged.
“That’s more like it,” he smirked.
He quickly pulled your legs up so that your ankles were on his shoulders, with a hand locked around of of your smooth legs and another on your stomach, he pushed into you,
“Oh, fuck,” you moaned immediately.
“So fuckin’ tight, Jesus,” he said through gritted teeth. He went slowly first, even when you wanted it so badly he knew your body wouldn’t be at the same speed as your mind. He pushed in and out of you at an agonising pace, a damp mousy blond strand falling down across his forehead.
“Fuck, look at that,” he murmured. “Fuckin’ filling you up right now.”
You followed his intense gaze, looking down at your stomach where you could see the faint outline of his cock inside you. He pressed down on the bulge with his hand as he thrusted making you moan out.
“You can go faster, Rafe,” you breathed out.
“Yeah?”
You nodded as he quickened his pace, from soft thrusts to slams, making you cry out. “Fuck, yes,” you moaned, brows pulled together.
Your tits bounced obscenely, his hand going down to gently slap one. He thrust into you harder, leaning in closer to you so that your knees were pressed to your chest as he looked down at you, his cross chain swinging back and forth. “Such a fucking whore for me, huh?”
You nodded, your head in a daze, mouth opening to say something but all that could come out was intelligible babbles.
He laughed at the sight, but he felt a strange feeling of butterflies in his stomach that he pushed down. “So cock-drunk you can’t even talk,”
“Harder, Ray,” you moaned.
“Oh, but you can say that,” he laughed. “Whatever you want, baby girl.” He practically began fucking you into the bed, eyes locked on you.
“Oh my god, fuck,” you cried out, head rolling back as he hit your cervix.
“You close?” he panted.
“Uh huh- fuck, right there, Ray.”
With his hands on either side of your head he fucked into you with a bruising pace. “You gonna come, pretty girl?”
“Mhm,” you whimpered as he thrust into you relentlessly, your wetness and his both creating an obscene ring at the base of his dick.
“Come on my cock, baby, come on,” he brought down one hand to your clit, rubbing circles around it while he fucked you.
You moaned shamelessly loud, anyone walking past the door could hear you even over the music, but you were too drunk on him to give a fuck.
“Rafe, ohmygod fuck- im gonna,” you cut yourself off with a pornstar-level moan, your back arching right off the bed as your eyes rolled back. Your pussy spasmed around him, your relief washing over you with the most intense pleasure. Feeling your walls tighten around his cock, Rafe pushed into you, buried to the hilt as he released, filling you up with his hot, wet cum.
“Jesus- fuck,” he groaned, his own eyes rolling back too as sweat glistened across his forehead. He panted over you, catching his breath before slowly pulling out, his release dripping down your thighs as he let your legs down. He dropped down onto the pillow beside you, both of you catching your breath as you stared at the ceiling.
You turned over first, your neck turning against the pillow to look at him.
“That was…”
“Fuckin’ amazing,” he finished for you, eyes still locked on the ceiling as his chest finally slowed down.
“Yeah,” you smiled.
You turned fully on your side to face him.
“Rafe?” You sat up softly, looking down at him. He looked so cute it was painful, all fucked out, sweat glittering on his skin. You just wanted to lick it right off him- What?
“Yeah?” He mumbled, making you blink back to reality.
You sat for a second before flopping back down on the bed. it was probably the wrong time to tell him how you really felt. “Nothing,” you murmured.
He didn’t say anything back, not curious about your question or lack of it. You kind of hoped he’d press you so you’d have no choice. The music made its way back to your ears, muffled behind the locked door of his room. You didn’t have to tell him how you felt right now, not when things seemed so perfect. Whether it was the alcohol, or the fucking, your eyes gently fell shut, lashes long against the apples of your cheeks. By the time Rafe has turned his head over to look at you, you were out. His brows furrowed, how the fuck did she knock herself out already?
“Y/N?” He said quietly. “…Y/N?”
He realised you wouldn’t be waking up soon unless he shook you awake, which for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to do, not when you were lying there like a little debauched doll.
He didn’t know what to do with you. He never did. He dragged a palm over his face.
kinktober ꒱ whiskey dick w/ rafe cameron &. afab!reader
⠀ X-RATED ⒅ ꜜ proceed with caution. ⍈ fauxcest. ᝢ noncon. ᝢ dubcon. ᝢ somnophilia. ᝢ age gap. ᝢ alcohol use ⸝ intoxication. ᝢ unprotected p in v. ᝢ whiskey dick ⸝ erectile dysfunction. ᝢ masturbation ⸝ fantasizing. ᝢ voyeurism ⸝ exhibitionism undertones. ᝢ infidelity ⸝ cheating. ᝢ oral sex. ᝢ clit stimulation. ᝢ grinding ⸝ dry humping. ᝢ degradation. (ㅤ 11k words ㅤ)ㅤ
⠀ ABOUT? ꜜ You always said he was just your mom’s new husband and you shouldn’t think about him like that, but you did anyway and it never went away. Now you can’t stop looking at him no matter how much you tell yourself to stop.
⠀ NOTES ꜜ I tried something different and darker for kinktober which is different from what I usually write… also I didn't use the tags (list) for this fic because I know not all people read fics with themes like this so please read responsibly.
You’d known Rafe Cameron for years before anything changed. At first, it was just irritation- the way he chewed on the end of his glass when he thought no one noticed and the way he filled a room without asking. He’d been in your life since… You don’t even know. He was married to your mom within months of moving into his house and you’d spent those first few years trying to keep your distance. It’s not because you don’t like him. He’s good, you think. He’s already settled in life and has work and whatever shit keeps him up at night. That’s the thing about being old, right? But one thing is for sure, you hate the smell of the whiskey he drinks and the sound of the ice and glass clinking whenever he pours the liquor there. Not that you can still witness that since time passed anyway. College took you away and suddenly years had stacked up without you noticing. You’d come back on breaks but something about this visit was different.
He looked different. The defined edge of his jaw hadn’t dulled but there were streaks of silver hidden in his dark hair now. It was just enough to catch your attention when the light hit. He wasn’t softer with age, not really. If anything his shoulders had thickened and his arms were heavier under rolled sleeves while his thighs still stretched wide across the couch when he sank into it at night. He wore his years like weight that settled deeper into himself. The drinking was the same. Some nights you’d hear the study door click shut after dinner and you knew exactly what he was doing in there. A bottle was pulled from the cabinet and the glass was filled halfway while the sound of him pacing came before the chair creaked under his weight. He never came out the same as he went in.
Hair mussed from raking his hand through it too many times and his shirt unbuttoned with eyes heavy-lidded but intense in ways you couldn’t stand to look at for too long. Other nights he stayed in the living room with the television filling the room with the sounds that are enough to be quiet and for him to hear while he’s sprawled across the couch. His long legs are spread out as the outline of his thighs pulls at the fabric of his pants. Never forget how his glass is always close to him and placed on the coffee table in front of the couch. It’s half empty while his fingers curled loosely around the armrest like he’s too tired to give a fuck if he looks messed up right now. He never looked your way when you passed through but you couldn’t stop yourself from looking at him. The looseness of his tie and the way his shirt gaped open at his chest while the deep muscle groove showed when his forearm flexed as he lifted the glass again.
The first year it’s nothing. Just him always coming home the same way. The keys will be loud when he puts them down on the counter. The scrape of his shoes being kicked made a thud sound. Then don’t forget the chime of the ice when it’s put inside the glass along with the strong smell of the whiskey that drifts out whenever he is before he even settles down on the couch. Of course, at first it’s all just something that you learn to tolerate because well, maybe he’s like that because he’s tired and alcoholic. You learned to tune it out as something that happened after a late night when your mother didn’t pay attention to him.
You’d pass by and maybe catch him loosening his tie with that first sip. His eyes glazed not from being gone but from being half somewhere else already. You really tried to make it just noticing his behaviors until it wasn’t. By the third it’s routine. Every time you saw him like that- spread out and worn down with his mouth touching the rim of his glass and you’d also find yourself heading upstairs quicker than you meant to. The lock on your door clicked shut. Your clothes came off and your hand slipped under the waistband of your shorts before you could even think.
It was pathetic how fast your body responded to the thought of him and how wet you got just from replaying the image of his legs wide on the couch or the slope of his throat when he tipped his glass back. You couldn’t forget the first time you used your vibrator and masturbated to the thought of him. You told yourself that you just needed stress relief, but it didn’t stop there. Joke's on you for even thinking that that will be the only thing you’ll do. It became a pattern. One glimpse of him in the hall with his buttons undone and you were on your bed minutes later. The vibrator pressed against your clit while you moaned into your pillow so no one would hear. You hated yourself for it but that didn’t stop the way your hips bucked or the way your hand shook when you pushed your fingers inside. The shame almost made it worse. It made it hotter. It was wrong, so wrong, and still you couldn’t resist.
Sometimes you’d come down after with your hair messy and your body still trembling and you’d find him still in the living room. He’d glance your way with eyes heavy from liquor and say something casual like, “Grabbed something to eat?” as if he had no idea what you’d been doing upstairs because of him. You’d nod and maybe mutter, “Yeah,” before slipping into the kitchen with your heart racing like he could smell the slick still wet on your thighs. By the fifth year, it’s an obsession. You wait for him to come home. You wait for the sound of the bottle cap twisting off. Your thighs clench the second you hear ice crack in the glass. Sometimes you whisper into the pillow when you come. You muffle it so hard your lips go numb while “Fuck- fuck, please-” spills out as if he could hear and as if he’d know.
It goes on like that for years. It gets worse every time you come home for a vacation. The house feels smaller somehow but he looks bigger. His body got more muscle and broader and the way his tie looks when he just came from work? Oh, it’s loose like someone pulled them and honestly it looks like he just had sex if he comes home like that. The big difference is his hair now grows more salt and pepper which wasn’t even there way back many vacations before. It isn’t obvious unless you stare but you do. Your eyes always find their way towards him and it’s longer than it should be. You can remember the one time you’re curled up on the couch at night when he comes home later than usual. As expected, he already smells like whiskey before he even sits. He drops beside you with a grunt. The glass is in his hand again but he doesn’t notice how your eyes flick to his throat while you watch the bob of it as he swallows.
“You don’t usually stay up this late,” he mutters as he slumps back. You pretend to look at your phone when you shrug at his words and pretend that you couldn’t feel the heat building in your stomach. “Couldn’t sleep.” His laugh is rough and tired. “Wish I had that problem.” He tips the glass back and then sets it on the table with a clink. Something twists in your stomach. You remember nights spent biting into pillows and whispering for him under your breath all while he sat just below you in this same living room drinking the same bottle. You shift your thighs while pressing them together. He doesn’t look at you but his voice is quieter when he asks, “You alright?” Your throat feels tight. “Yeah. Just… hot in here.” He hums with his head tipping back against the couch and his eyes closed. The dim light makes the lines of his face look fine and older. His jaw has a shadow now not just from the stubble but from time. You can’t stop staring.
The silence continues while you wet your lips. Your words slip out before you can stop them, “Do you drink every night?” He immediately opens his eyes quickly after you finish your question and there’s a smirk forming in his mouth. “Not every night. Just… most nights.” You shift again trying not to look as restless as you feel. “Does it even help?” You ask like it matters. “Helps me forget the day,” he says with his voice low. Then he glances at you while studying your face like he’s only now realizing how grown you are. “Why? You worried about me or something?” Your chest tightens. A stupid little thrill runs through you. You laugh it off but it comes out breathier than you meant. “Well.” His head shakes while he chuckles, but you couldn’t read the way he looks at you and you couldn’t figure out what he’s thinking. Whatever he’s doing defines something in your stomach especially with the way you can feel it knot tighter.
Later when you finally go upstairs the door clicks shut behind you. The vibrator hums in your hand before you even hit the bed. Every flick of your wrist has his voice echoing in your head- “Wish I had that problem… You worried about me or something?” -burning hot and wrong yet so good you cannot stop. Your breath stutters out harsh and shaky while words tumble against the pillow. “Oh god, oh fuck- please-” You squeeze your eyes shut and your thighs tremble as you think the image of him sitting downstairs with a drink while you are up here falling apart over him. It’s always like that because after a few nights, he was out again. Just passed out on the couch with one arm hanging off the side. The bottle on the table still had some left and the glass was tilted like it might fall but it never did. His chest moved slowly in that kind of sleep people get when they’ve had too much to drink. You got used to it a long time ago. It’s always quiet and the room still smells like last night. The way he sometimes muttered half-words before drifting deeper.
It was almost routine at this point- taking the folded blanket from the armrest and tugging it over his shoulders while pretending you weren’t the one doing it. That it was your mom. That he did not know the difference. “Always leaving you like this,” you whispered under your breath, more to the room than to him. Fingers brushed his arm when you leaned closer. Warm skin. He was never cold no matter how long he had been out. Something about the heat of him made your pulse quicken though you told yourself it was nothing. You just wanted to check he was breathing steady. You just wanted to… feel. That night you let your hand linger. You pressed against the solid weight of his arm before gliding a little lower over his chest. The rise and fall was slow and rhythmic yet the shape of his body beneath your touch made you hesitate.
It was not supposed to be like this but your hand did not pull away. Your breath caught as you dragged your palm over the thin fabric of his shirt. His body was so still and the fact that he did not stir only made you braver. Before you knew it you were sliding lower. Past his stomach. Hovering there. “Just… just once,” you murmured as if that excused it. Your hand ghosted down until it cupped him through his pants. The heat was there but nothing else. Not even a twitch. You rubbed carefully, almost apologetically, while waiting for a shift or a sign. Nothing. His cock stayed soft against your hand, limp and unresponsive no matter how you moved your palm. A shaky little sound left your throat - half frustration and half relief.
You pulled back quickly like the moment might snap and catch you if you stayed too long. But it did not stop you. The second time was a week later and he was in the same spot again. His head was tipped back and his mouth hung open while he snored softly. The bottle was almost empty this time. You pulled the blanket over him again and tried to walk away but your chest went tight the way it always does. The temptation was right there. “Just checking,” you whispered, though the lie felt weaker now. Fingers slid down his stomach and under the hem of his shirt. Skin was hot and smooth while your breath quickened as you trailed lower. When your hand wrapped over his cock again it was still the same. Warm and soft yet not rising for you. You rubbed harder this time and gave him more friction while hoping maybe something would happen.
The shape of him moved under your grip but it never stiffened. “Why won’t you-” you muttered but stopped yourself as your voice came out too loud in the silence and all you heard was his heavy breathing while frustration prickled your skin as you pulled back. By the third time, it was not even about courage anymore. It was about the question eating you alive. Why did he never get hard? He was not old. He was not broken. You could not stop replaying it and you could not stop sneaking touches while he was out cold. But every time his cock stayed useless in your hand. That night you sat in your room with your phone glowing in the dark. You typed it out with shaky fingers. Why does someone drunk not get hard? Search results filled the screen and one term stuck out. Whiskey dick. You read every word while your heart hammered louder the further you scrolled. Drinking too much. Can’t stay hard. Can’t even get hard. You whispered it aloud to yourself and the words sound strange on your tongue. “Whiskey dick.”
It explained everything. The reason your quiet little touches never woke him. The reason he did not react no matter how long your hand lingered. The reason you could get away with it. And it made your stomach twist in a new dangerous way yet you tried distracting yourself after that. Like staying in your friend’s house or coming home late and it was one of those nights. You smell like salt water and cheap vodka when you get home and your hair’s still cold from the beach air. The slippers you’re wearing hit the floor loudly when you push the door open and it kinda echoes around the place like it’s mocking you or something. The light from the living room leaks into the hall and of course, he’s there again sitting on the couch with a drink like he never moved. The bottle’s half gone sitting on the table like always and you don’t even know why that still pisses you off when you knew it’d be like this. The light caught it just right so it looked gold for a second. He looked like he had not moved in hours. Work clothes still on but only the tie discarded while his shirt sleeves were rolled up.
He looks up slowly when you walk in and his eyes go straight to the bikini top still sticking to your skin. “Where the hell have you been?” His voice was rough as hell like the liquor still sitting in his throat. “Didn’t hear you come in earlier.” You shove your shorts off and try not to think about how he’s looking again. “Out with friends. Beach thing.” It comes out lazy like you couldn’t even bother to make it sound real. “Beach thing huh?” He leans back and the ice hits the glass when he moves it. “What does that even mean you're out there half naked like that all night?” Your neck starts burning and you drop your bag by the stairs pretending you’re looking for your phone even though it’s right there in your damn pocket. “It’s a beach. Everyone’s half-naked.” Sarcasm runs easily from your mouth like it’s a habit.
“Not the same,” he mutters as he tips his glass back until his throat moves with the swallow. “You don’t get it.” The couch groans when he shifts while stretching his legs out so they almost block your path. He doesn’t move them but he just looks up at you like he’s waiting for something. You try to step around yet he smirks. “You’re not even sunburned,” he says while his eyes drag slowly over your chest. “Don’t look like you went in the water at all. Just sat there lettin’ boys stare.” A playful laugh slips out of you. “Why are you so nosy tonight?” It’s making you annoyed because he’s pushing it like a nagging dog. “’Cause I know how guys think,” he shoots back while his tone stays rough but steady. “And I don’t like the thought of you lettin’ them look at what you shouldn’t even be showin’.” Your stomach tightens. He’s drunk maybe too drunk yet there’s a strange focus in his eyes. Like he’s fighting something inside himself and losing.
“You’re drunk.” You cross your arms over your chest. “Yeah,” he admits without hesitation. He sets the glass down then leans forward now with his elbows on his knees. “Still seein’ straight though. Don’t need much to notice when you’re trying too hard to be grown.” The words sting but there’s something under them too something darker. Your pulse stutters. You tilt your head while meeting his stare without flinching. “So what if I am?” His jaw flexes. The silence stays for a while and it feels heavy between you. The fridge makes a low sound in the back and the couch creaks a bit when he finally moves. He drags a hand down his face while he lets out a breath through his nose. When he talks again his voice is lower now and it’s not really a command but it’s not a question either. “Come here a sec.”
Your body stills because every nerve is wired. The air feels heavier while the distance between you and him feels thinner than it should be. So you did. You sat down not too close and not too far with your legs pulled in tight. The whiskey hits first before you even drink it. It just climbs straight up your nose and burns a bit which gets you thinking this shit’s gonna kill you. He doesn’t even wait when he shoves the glass in your hand like he’s encouraging you to take it. “Drink,” is all he says and his voice is fucked up like he hasn’t slept in a week or smoking through his feelings or both who even knows at this point? The glass tilts in your hand while the dark liquid catches the light. You almost laugh at the absurdity of it but his eyes slide toward you then red at the rims but steady and watching to see what you’d do. You raise it just enough to wet your lips. The taste burns all the way down. “There you go,” he mutters while leaning back deeper into the couch.
“Not so bad.” Everything goes quiet for a bit like the room forgot how to breathe and the small clink from the bottle breaks that. He’s still staring though and he looks like he’s trying to read your whole life off your face before his lips form a smirk as if he just figured out something stupid. “Fuck,” he breathes out while his head tips lazily against the cushion. “Your tits got bigger.” Heat punches low in your stomach so fast it makes your thighs clench. You stiffen while your fingers squeeze the glass too tightly as you try to play it off like you didn’t hear. “What?” Your voice cracks on the word. His eyes drag down bold and slow until they stop right where the bikini top cuts across your chest. He let out a short laugh under his breath like he couldn’t help it. “Don’t act like you didn’t hear me.” His tongue ran over his bottom lip when he said, “They didn’t look like that last summer.”
You could feel your face getting hot under his stare and moving in your seat only made it worse because the hem of your shorts slid up higher on your thighs. You will yourself not to squirm or to move closer or to give him the satisfaction. Still, it’s impossible to ignore the way his knee brushes against yours when he shifts casually but heavy enough to linger. His hand lifts like he might reach yet he only rubs at his jaw while his thumb smears across the rough stubble. The glass still sweats in his hand when he says it half laughing in his throat the kind that makes you feel both exposed and challenged. “You trying not to sit in my lap?” His smile slants lazy and mocking. “’Cause you keep lookin’ like you wanna.” Your stomach twists hot and you hate how quickly your body leans toward him. Your tongue pushes forward instead of flinching away.
“I don’t wanna sit anywhere near you when you drink like that,” you murmur while your eyes flick to the half-empty bottle on the table. You add a little roll of your eyes just to keep his attention locked. “You always come home like this. Smells like a bar.” He lets out a rough sound that isn’t quite a laugh. “Yeah? And you still hang around don’t you?” His gaze drags down your bare legs slowly enough to make your pulse spike. “So what’s that say about you?” Your chest gets hot too fast, and you don’t even know if you feel shy or excited. You move on the couch like you try to relax, but move closer to his knee on purpose. “I’m not like those girls who run after you,” you say and you don’t know why your voice is not shaking.
“I don’t need some drunk dad type to notice me.” That actually makes him laugh and it’s a real one that comes from deep in his chest so it hits you harder than it should. His eyes catch the light and his mouth twitches while he lifts his glass for another sip. “You don’t need it huh but you’re sitting here talking like you want me to believe that.” Your heartbeat feels loud enough to fill the room. His knee bumps yours when he moves and you don’t pull away. You lean in just enough for your hair to brush his shoulder and your voice drops low. “Maybe I just like messing with you. You’re easier when you’re drinking. You talk too much.” The way his mouth twitches slowly and meanly tells you he isn’t missing what you’re doing. He sets the glass down hard while the sound hits louder against the table and his hand finally moves. His fingers graze the inside of your thigh like it’s an accident though the weight behind it says otherwise.
Your thighs buzz where his fingers graze. The touch is light but heavy enough to keep you from breathing right. The smirk still lingers on his mouth looks teasing now as if he’s testing you. “You trying not to sit in my lap?” he mutters again with his voice low and thick with liquor. “’Cause the way you keep squirming around… looks like you want to.” Heat crawls up your neck. Instead of answering you shift closer while letting your knee brush his. His brows lifted and that smirk got wider as you swung a leg over his thighs and sat down like you’d been waiting for it all night. He let out a sound that wasn’t really a laugh but not a curse either and it rumbled out of his chest anyway. “Jesus Christ.” His hands don’t shove you off though. They land on your hips while his rough palms anchor you there holding you steady against the spread of his thighs.
The smell of whiskey clung bitterly between you both and it burned your nose as you leaned in. The seat of your shorts pressed to his lap while the soft weight underneath gave you a thrill you shouldn’t have enjoyed. It wasn’t what you expected. Not firm or urgent yet that made it worse somehow. Sick and hot the idea of sitting there and getting off while he couldn’t do a thing about it. “You don’t even know what you’re asking for,” he said with his voice gruff in your ear. His thumbs rubbed absent circles into your sides like he didn’t know if he wanted to push you off or pull you down harder. A shaky little laugh left you when your hips rolled forward as you ground just enough to feel him shift beneath the thin layers of fabric. “Looks like I do.”
His grip tightened and the breath that pushed out of him was heavy and annoyed but his body didn’t move you away. “You’re fuckin’ insane. Sitting here like this… what the hell are you thinking?” Your lips drag on his jaw when you lean in really close and whisper right on his skin. “Thinking about how long I’ve wanted to do this.” He freezes for a moment and everything goes quiet so hard you can even hear the fridge making noise in the back. Then he swears again and it sounds rough like he’s about to lose it. His hands slid lower while cupping your ass through the denim as if to test how far you’d take it. “You don’t even care what happens if someone walks in?” His mouth was at your temple now, hot and rough. “What if your mom saw you like this?” The mention makes your pussy pulse so strongly and you can’t even sit still at this point so you moved again on his lap without even thinking. You press down on him because the heat won't stop and it just gets worse.
“Then you’d have to explain why you didn’t stop me.” His jaw was so hard you could feel it on your cheek. His hand slapped your thigh and the sound was loud while your body jumped from it. Not hard but enough to make your breath catch. “You’re out of your goddamn mind,” he said yet his grip dragged you closer while pressing your cunt more firmly over the soft bulge beneath. The friction made your head spin. His cock stayed unresponsive under you. It felt heavy but useless and that only made you want more. The control was in your hands not his and it twisted your stomach in the dirtiest way. You ground down again slow and teasing this time while chasing the slick heat pooling between your thighs. “Don’t care. Just wanna feel you.” Your voice broke when you said it. “Fuck,” he groaned with his forehead tipping into your shoulder as if he couldn’t look at you.
“You don’t get it… it’s not fuckin’ useless right now.” Your laugh was breathless with your lips brushing the shell of his ear. “Doesn’t matter. Still feels good.” The words made him stiffen beneath you but his hips lifted with the smallest push up into your grind. His cock stayed soft yet the weight shifted against your clit while giving you just enough pressure to whimper into his neck. “Goddamn little perv,” he muttered as he squeezed your ass hard enough to make you gasp. His voice was ragged and jagged with frustration. “Riding me like this when I can’t even shit-” Your nails dug into his shoulders while you rocked forward again and your cunt throbbed against the friction. “Don’t care,” you whispered with your lips parting on a shaky moan. “Just let me. Please, just let me.”
The rough grip on your ass only made you bolder. Denim dug into your skin while you rocked forward again and dragged the seam of your shorts over the bulge trapped beneath his pants. The weight of it shifted uselessly against you, soft but heavy while the heat pouring off his body had you clenching around nothing. His fingers press harder into your hips and it actually hurts a little but he keeps you there like he doesn’t want you to move even an inch. Your body just freezes for a second because of how strong his grip is. “You’re not supposed to be doing this,” he muttered with his voice thick and his jaw brushing against your temple. “This is fucked.” Breath hitched in your chest yet instead of stopping your hips rolled harder while chasing the press of fabric against your clit. The rub of denim only made it rougher and wetter. “Doesn’t feel like you want me to stop,” your lips grazed the stubble at his jaw when you whispered. The groan he made vibrated on your skin like he couldn’t even help to make a reaction to what you just said.
He shifts his grip before he moves his hand up to grab the side of your tit over the thin bikini top you are wearing. He needs to feel more of you right now because he couldn’t stand how little of you he’s having. The fabric did nothing to hide how hard your nipple had already gone and his thumb dragged slowly across it until your whole body jolted. “Little brat,” he muttered with his voice rough in your ear. “Climbin’ on me half-naked and grinding on my cock like I asked for it. You think I don’t notice how wet you are already?” The taunt made your pussy pulse harder. Your breath spilled out in a shaky moan while you pressed down harder on him. Your shorts rode up your thighs until the rough edge of the seam rubbed directly over your clit. “nngh, f-fuck- don’t say that.” He squeezed your tit harder with his thumb and finger pinching until your back arched into him. His laugh was low and humorless yet warm against your ear. “Don’t say what? That you’re drenching through these tiny little shorts just from rubbing on me?”
His words go straight to your face and make you feel hot. You still grind on him despite how he makes you feel embarrassed. While the heat coming between your thighs only burns more until you can feel the effect of it: soaking the thin part of your shorts. And… It’s horrible because the fabric sticks to your pussy and it shows how wet you are. You wanted more. You wanted skin against him instead of just denim. Your hand moves like it has its own mind to just do shit. You open the button of your shorts quickly enough and the metal button pops open before you pull the zipper halfway open. He stiffened under you while his hand caught your wrist halfway. “The fuck are you doing?” You gave him a look breathless and messy but grinning despite it. “Making it better.” His eyes narrowed like he wanted to stop you yet the hand on your wrist loosened. Instead, his other hand cupped the back of your neck with his rough palm hot against your skin while he held you close enough to feel the burn of whiskey in his breath.
“You’re fucking sick,” he muttered. “Mm, yeah,” you whispered while dragging the shorts down your thighs enough to free yourself. The waistband caught at your knees but you didn’t care. You pressed back down over the lump in his pants with only your soaked panties between you. The slick heat spread instantly as your cunt ground into the coarse fabric until you gasped into his throat. “Ahh-hahh, ffuck- see? Better.” You slip a profanity out of his mouth like it’s some trophy even though it sounds low and rough. His hands grabbed your ass again so he could just squeeze it hard enough to make it hurt while he pulled you closer against his lap. “You’re out of control. Rubbin’ that sloppy little cunt on me like this-” His words broke with a grunt when your hips rolled harder while smearing wetness over the crease of his zipper.
Your moans came out shameless and pitched higher every time your clit caught the ridge of his cockhead through his pants. “hhnn, nghh, nn-feels so good-” He groaned with his teeth grazing your shoulder before dragging lower and letting his lips catch the edge of your bikini strap. “You’re fuckin’ soaked,” he muttered while pulling it down far enough to expose the swell of your breast. His mouth closed around your nipple without warning and he sucked hard until you cried out while clawing at his shoulders. “Ahh! nn, ffuck-hahh, don’t-oh god-” Your voice broke while your hips jerked faster as he latched on harder. Heat rolled through you so thick it made your thighs tremble. He pulled off with a wet sound and his spit slicked the hard peak before he dragged his teeth over it. “You wanted this huh? Wanted me to grab you and squeeze you like this?”
His hand kneaded roughly into your tit until you whimpered. “Climb on me and grind your pussy till you can’t breathe?” Your head tipped back with your mouth open while your hair stuck to your damp skin. The sight of him looking up at you with lips wet from your nipple and his hand squeezing your ass like he owned it sent another rush of slick flooding into your panties. The soft weight under you didn’t change yet the pressure against your clit was everything. “Y-yeah,” you stammered through broken moans while your nails dragged across his shoulders. “Wanted it- fuck, always wanted it- ahhnn-” His eyes darkened at the confession and he cursed again with his voice gravelly and almost pained. “Goddamn slut.” His hands yanked at the denim still hanging around your thighs until he shoved it lower so it barely clung to your knees.
“Sitting up here like this- fuckin’ dripping all over me when I can’t even-” The words cut off when you pressed harder while grinding down slow and filthy over the thick shape in his pants. Wetness smeared into the fabric and his groan came guttural with his chest rising heavy against yours. His hands squeezed and dragged you tighter like he couldn’t stop himself anymore. Your hand drifted lower while you still rolled your hips in his lap. You were greedy especially with the way his body reacts every time you grind on him. It feels like something you want to possess about. His waistband feels stiff in your palm like it’s been a long time since somebody else has touched it besides him. You tug it like you are testing the waters to see if he will be okay with it and he doesn't stop you when you repeat the action. His jaw feels tight while his eyes are still looking at you and he’s just ignoring how you play with the button and zipper to open them. The quiet rasp of it made him grunt low in his throat. “Really,” he muttered with his voice edged rough from drinking, “you think that’s a good idea?”
You smiled while pressing your chest to his so he felt the thin stretch of your bikini top against him. Your fingers dipped inside while brushing the heat of his skin. “It’s not an idea,” you whispered as you grazed his lips. “It’s what I want.” The corner of his mouth twitched like he was gonna say no but he didn’t. He leaned back against the couch and watched you with half-lidded eyes while you tugged at his waistband and gave him a look to help. “Go on,” you breathed. “Pull them down.” His hand stayed there for a second before he pushed his pants low enough for his cock to slip free. It was heavy and soft against his thigh. The sight made your stomach flip while you dragged your panties against him right away with the damp fabric brushing across the slack shaft. The friction was messy yet filthy in the way it smeared your wetness onto him.
“Haaah- nghh- look at that,” you moaned softly while grinding again with the gusset of your underwear dragging over his cockhead. His hand came up with his rough palm pressing into your hip to hold you closer. His fingers curled until they slipped under the strings of your bikini bottoms. He tugged just enough that the fabric pulled to the side so your cunt was bared with lips sticky and swollen right above him. “Fuckin’-” he groaned while staring between your thighs. His thumb stroked the edge of your slit with his knuckle brushing your clit before he pushed the fabric aside more. “You’re soaked,” he said as if it wasn’t obvious already. “Because of you,” you whined while rolling your hips harder. The soft slide of his cock against your folds made you gasp with slick dragging along the length. “nnh- mmphh- feels so nasty oh god-”
He grips your thigh with his thumb pressing into the tender inside of it while his other hand stays tangled with the strings of your bottoms. “Keep rubbin’ yourself on me like that and you’ll lose your fuckin’ mind before I even do anything.” You tilt your head against his shoulder with your mouth open as a shaky sound falls from your throat. The heat of his body and the musk of alcohol and the lazy way his cock lies under you but still makes every grind wetter and filthier all of it makes you dizzy. “Don’t stop,” you pant while your nails dig into his chest through his shirt. “I want you touching me while I do it-hnnghh, right there, don’t let go.” His breath shudders yet he smirks against your temple even though his jaw is tight. “You’re fuckin’ twisted,” he murmurs with his voice thick. His thumb presses against your slit as it slides between your folds while you keep grinding with your panties stretched to the side so your pussy drags bare over his cock.
The strings he tugged loose hang crooked on your hips while the fabric twists and catches between you. When you shift the thin panties rub against his thigh though they are already soaked through. He stares at the mess of it with his jaw working as he reaches down. “Lift up a little,” he mutters. His fingers hook the strings then pull them the rest of the way. He drags the fabric down your legs slowly until it slips free and ends up tossed on the couch beside you. His hand does not stop there. He works at the knot behind your back until the bikini bra loosens too while the straps slide off your shoulders. The cups fall forward and join the pile while your chest stays bare against him. You roll your hips again with your pussy pressing against the slack weight of his cock. It drags wetly over him as it makes both of you shudder.
“Rafe…” your voice breaks into a whimper, needy and breathless. “I wanna feel you… right here.” His lips twitched like he wanted to keep a straight face but couldn’t. “You’re already fuckin dripping all over me. What else do you need?” You guide your hand between your bodies while your fingers wrap around the soft heat of him. You lift his cock until the head nudges your slit. The squish of it sliding through your folds makes your breath catch. “Just the tip, okay? I don’t care if it’s soft. I want it inside me.” He stares at the way you press down on him if he cannot believe you are really doing it. “Jesus Christ.” His head tips back while his eyes close for a moment as if he is trying to block the sight. His hands still grip your thighs with his thumbs brushing along the sticky seam of your skin. “You’re fuckin’ insane.”
You bite your lip while lining his cockhead up to your entrance. It does not push in smoothly like usual. The tip bends a little while squishing against your hole and the resistance makes your cunt throb even harder. You rub yourself there anyway while dragging him against the entrance until the blunt pressure has you whining. “Mmnnhh- fuck, please, Rafe. Feels so dirty like this.” He grunts while watching as you smear yourself along his tip. His hand drifts down with his rough fingers spreading your lips so his cockhead presses right against the pink swollen opening. “Look at you,” he mutters under his breath. “Tryna stuff yourself even when I’m not ready for you.” The words make your whole body pulse and you push again. This time harder. The head slips just a little while stretching your entrance before it slides back out because it will not stay. “Ahhnn- oh god, nghh- it went in a little- hnn- just a little.”
The sensation drags a high moan out of you. “Yeah, I fuckin’ saw,” he rasps with his thumb pressing against your clit as if he cannot stop himself. “You don’t quit, do you?” You grind down shamelessly while rubbing his tip back and forth over your hole as it keeps catching then slipping over and over. Each time it threatens to slide in your cunt clenches desperately around nothing. “Please- let me try again. Just wanna keep him inside me, I don’t care how.” Your voice cracks desperate and pervy while you rock your hips faster to prove it. Rafe’s breath grows heavier as his chest rises against yours. His cock twitches faintly under your grip. Not fully hard yet but reacting all the same. “You’re gonna ruin yourself on me before I even- fuckin’ hell.”
His words cut off into a groan when you angle yourself and push down again harder while forcing the tip to sink into your cunt for a second before it slips out with a wet pop. “Ahhnn! mmfhh- fuck, it’s so- so messy, nghh- I love it.” The more you rock on him the slicker it gets. Every grind spreads your mess down his shaft until it coats the soft length and glistens against your folds. It does not stay completely limp anymore. Half-hard now, heavy but with a slow firmness pushing back against your slit. Your body clenches around nothing desperate to keep him inside. When you shift forward the blunt head slides against your entrance again while catching and almost pushing through. “Ahhnn- Rafe, it’s going in easier now,” you pant while pressing harder with a needy whine. His grip on your hips tightens with his fingers digging into your skin. His jaw works like he wants to say something but does not. Only a rough exhale slips past his teeth.
You roll your hips again while dragging the swollen head along your slit. The stretch when it pokes in shallow makes your thighs tremble. You hold it there while shoving down until the tip stays lodged with your cunt fluttering around the thickness. “Oh fuck, nghh, it’s staying, it’s- ahh- it’s really staying in,” you babble with your nails scratching lightly down his chest as you ride the tip shallow. Rafe grunts while watching your slick drip down over him. His cock twitches harder. Half-hard now, thickening more with every grind. “You’re outta your fuckin’ mind. Look at you-” He groans when your pussy clenches down on the head again. “-stuffing yourself like that.” Your head tips back and your voice cracks as you moan. “Mmfhh, you don’t get it- I always wanted to do this. You’re always soft when you come home wasted.”
His eyes snap up at you quickly and his voice comes out rough. “The fuck you just say?” Heat crawls up your neck but you are too gone to stop yourself. “I-I touch you sometimes when you’re blacked out. Always so soft in my hand. I couldn’t help it, Rafe. I wanted it then, and I want it now.” The words land heavily. His hand shoots up to the back of your neck while dragging you close until his forehead presses to yours. His breath is harsh and full of disbelief yet his cock jerks harder under you while thickening more as you sink the tip inside again. “You’re fuckin’ sick,” he growls though his grip does not let go. “Messing with me when I’m out cold? You think that’s funny?” A shudder runs through you at his tone while your cunt tightens around the shallow stretch. “nnhh, not funny- hot. You don’t even know how much I thought about it.”
His chest heaves against yours with his cock swelling thicker between your folds now. Not fully hard but far from soft. He presses his hips up just enough so the head slips deeper for a heartbeat before sliding out again. “Goddamn it,” he groans. “You’re making me- fuck- hard off that shit.” Your pussy grinds down faster, greedy with wet sounds spilling from between you both. “Yesss- get hard for me, nghh- want it, want it so bad.” His cock keeps thickening though it never gets all the way. Heavy between your folds, fat but not stiff enough to hold itself. Only half-hard under the mess of your cunt grinding down. It twitches when you shift with the head dragging over your slit until it slips back inside for a second before sliding out again. A groan rumbles low from his chest, rough and annoyed yet threaded with heat.
His hand tightens at your hip holding you steady as you rock. “Christ,” he mutters with his jaw tight. “You’re makin’ me hard off that sick shit you just said.” The words make your stomach flip as you look down at where the blunt head presses against your folds glistening and swollen. Your hips roll forward and this time you do not stop. The tight squeeze makes you cry out while the half-hard cock pushes in stretching you inch by inch until you sink down and take all of him. “mmfh- Rafe-” Your thighs quake from how thick he feels even though soft around the edges. “I got it all in. Fuck I got it all the way in.” He tips his head back with a guttural groan and the sound scrapes out of his throat. His eyes snap open again as you grind down and for a moment he just stares at you while his jaw flexes.
“Look at you,” he growls with his voice rasping. “Stuffin’ yourself on a cock that can’t even get hard.” His palm slides up your side until it grabs your tit while rough fingers pinch your nipple hard enough to make you gasp. “You that desperate huh?” The sting forces your back to arch while your cunt clenches down tight around the half-stiff length. “Ahhnn- fuck- yesss. Bet it’s been so long since you had a pussy around your cock hasn’t it?” His eyes narrow while his lips curl into something between a snarl and a smirk. The grip on your nipple gets harder until your mouth falls open with a cry. “You really don’t know when to shut that filthy mouth,” he bites out but his hips jerk up from under you while grinding deeper into your soaked cunt.
Wet sounds fill the room as you rock against him while every push makes the swollen shaft slip deeper. Your nails drag down his chest and they leave faint scratches on his skin. His cock still is not hard enough to thrust the way it should but it fills you so heavily that every grind makes your head spin. You lean down with your forehead pressed to his while panting hard. “mmnn, nghh, you feel so thick like this. Even soft you’re stretching me out.” He breathes through his teeth as his nostrils flare. “Keep talkin’. See what else it makes me do.” His other hand grips your ass hard and drags you against him so your clit grinds over the base of his cock. “Fucking brat.” Your body jolts from the friction while a shiver runs down your spine.
“Aaahh- hahh- Rafe I’m gonna lose it- mm you don’t know how much I needed this.” The half-hard length twitches inside you again as it pulses against your walls while his grip tightens like he is trying to keep himself together. His eyes never leave yours as if he doesn’t want to miss any reaction you make while you ride him slowly and messily. Every word you say just makes him throb harder against the alcohol in his system. His palm clamps tighter around your right hip with his fingers digging deep into the soft skin. The grip makes it impossible to move the way you want so he forces your body to follow his rhythm. Every drag down is unbearably slow while every push up is controlled until his cockhead almost slips out before he presses you back down again. The half-hard length shifts inside you swollen and hot while rubbing your walls with a heavy drag. Your cunt grips greedily anyway as it takes everything even when he will not let you rush.
Rafe leans back against the couch with his chest rising slowly but heavily. His eyes lock on your face like he is watching every twitch. “You think I’m lettin’ you ride me sloppy?” His voice comes low with gravel dragging through his throat. “Nah. You move when I tell you to. You fuckin’ stay here.” His thumb strokes over your hipbone soft for a moment then he jerks you down an inch harder to prove his point. A muffled cry spills out of your lips while your nails curl into his shoulders. The stretch feels deeper this way as it splits you slowly on purpose. “mmhhn- Rafe-” You can barely breathe from how it feels. “Shut up.” His head tilts as his gaze hardens while his grip guides you into another agonizing grind. “You wanna make yourself useful? Open your mouth. Say the sick shit you think about.”
Your chest heaves as you try to steady your voice even while your body quivers from the deep drag of his cock inside. “I- mmhh-” The words stumble with a broken sound at the end. It makes you look so desperate when it gets out of your throat. “I think about- about this. You're coming home drunk and me just waiting to climb on your lap-” His eyes flash as he squeezes your hip until it stings. “Keep goin’.” The slow rise and fall make your cunt slick around him while obscene wet noises fill the room. Each time his cock shifts inside a shaky whimper escapes before you can stop it. You bite your lip but force the words out. “I imagine you’d sit here and let me do anything I want. Even when you’re soft I’d still put you in me.” Rafe grunts roughly and approves as his jaw flexes while he drags you down again.
“Yeah? You’d sit there and stuff my cock inside anyway? Say it clearly. Don’t fuckin’ whine.” Your nails scrape down his chest while your voice trembles as you try to speak steadily. “I’d sit on you soft or hard. Doesn’t matter. I’d take you every time you walk in the door just because I can.” The blunt pinch at your nipple comes suddenly and painfully so it makes you gasp. His lips twist in a smirk. “That’s better. That’s the way I want it.” His hips roll up once dragging his cock thick and sluggish through your soaked heat. His breath comes heavier while your walls squeeze down. You swallow a broken moan while your head drops to his shoulder. “Mmhhfhh- s-sorry I can’t stop the sounds-” Rafe’s laugh is low and rough in your ear. “Don’t. I like hearin’ how desperate you are. Keep spillin’ those dirty thoughts while I make you take me slow.”
His hand shifts from your hip to the curve of your ass as he pulls you down so your clit grinds hard against the base of his cock. “Say another one.” Your whole body jerks while sparks rush through your core. “Aaahhnn- hahh- s-sometimes I think about- fuck- I think about you bending me over the counter drunk with your cock half-soft just shoving it in until I cry for it.” His teeth grit as a curse slips out with his breath. “That’s fuckin’ sick,” he mutters though his eyes blaze darker while holding you there as your body writhes against him. His hand never loosens and he holds your hip steady so you cannot speed up no matter how badly you want to. Every push down is guided while every drag up is so slow it leaves your walls fluttering around him.
The half-hard thickness still fills you heavily as it stretches your cunt like he is forcing you to savor every inch. When his other hand slips between your thighs two fingers press down on your clit and rub in lazy circles. The drag is steady and not rushed so your whole body twitches. You shiver as you try to swallow the sound in your throat but a shaky moan breaks out anyway. “Quit hiding it,” Rafe mutters with his voice gravelly while his thumb tightens on your hipbone. “Say it. Say what’s in your head while I’m sittin’ inside you.” Your eyes squeeze shut while another roll of his fingers makes your stomach knot. “Nnhh- hahh- y-you’re… you’re big even when you’re soft,” you whisper as your words stutter around the needy little sounds that slip out. “Feels heavy. I can’t imagine how much- mmhh- how much bigger when you’re hard.”
The rough noise that leaves his throat sounds close to a growl. His fingers press harder against your clit while they drag a slow circle that makes your hips buck but his hold on your side forces you right back down on his cock. “Yeah? You think about my cock hard?” Your head tips forward against his chest while your breath comes hot and messy. “Mmfhh- hahh- sometimes I touch myself to it. When you come home from work and when you look so fucking ruined and go straight to your study to drink I lie in bed and finger myself until I can’t breathe.” His chest rumbles against your cheek as a curse spills out while his grip drags you down again. The shift makes your walls clutch tighter as they squeeze around the soft thick length buried in you. “Fuckin’- you’re serious? You sit there touchin’ yourself to me drunk?”
“Y-yes,” you breathe out with your voice breaking while your clit throbs under his slow rubbing. “You don’t even know… I watch you sometimes. You’re still in your work clothes with your tie loose and your eyes look tired and I think about- mmhhnn- crawling under your desk and sucking your cock till you can’t even hold the glass.” Rafe groans as his head falls back against the couch while his hand spreads across your ass to shove you deeper onto his cock. “You’re fuckin’ sick. You know that?” A shaky laugh escapes you mixed with a needy gasp as your clit throbs against his circling fingers. “nnhh- I don’t care. I think about you more when you’re messy… like tonight… like you’re mine to use.”
His lips curl into a dark grin and he pinches your clit between two fingers just to hear your broken whimper. “Keep talkin’, baby. I wanna hear every filthy little thought while I keep you right here on my cock.” His thumb drags slowly and steadily across your clit and he never gives you more than what he wants. Each roll of your hips grinds his half-hard cock deeper inside and the weight of him fills you just enough to leave you trembling for more. He does not speed up and he does not let you ride the way your body aches for. It is all his rhythm and you are forced to take it. “Keep talkin’,” he says with his voice thick and rough in your ear. His hand squeezes the curve of your waist like a warning. “Don’t stop now. I know you got more filth sittin’ in that pretty head.” Your breath stutters as another pulse of pleasure sparks under his fingers.
The words slip out shaky yet honest. “I-I even buy things sometimes. Bras panties little sets. Lingerie. Like… like I’m married to you.” The low sound he makes vibrates against your back. It is half a laugh and half a groan. “Married to me huh? You’re sittin’ here on my cock thinkin’ like a fuckin’ wife.” His hand pushes you down harder so your walls hug his cockhead. “Tell me what you do with that shit once you buy it.” Heat crawls up your neck while shame and thrill mix until it is impossible to pull them apart. “I take pictures,” you whisper then gasp when his fingers rub harder at your clit. “I put them on. Pose in front of the mirror. Sometimes I send them.” Rafe’s head tips forward while his breath is hot against the shell of your ear. “Send them? To whom?” Your thighs shake as the question lands heavy. It takes a second to answer while your hips roll helplessly under his control.
“Older guys. Online.” The words tremble as you force them out. “They… they tell me things. That I look like a doll. That they’d ruin me if they had the chance.” The hand at your hip tightens until you feel the press of his fingers deep in your skin. His cock twitches softly inside you as it is a heavy pulse against your walls. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ. You’re sittin’ in some old man’s inbox showin’ him my girl in lace?” You nod quickly even though your voice breaks around a moan when his thumb circles your clit again. “Mmfhh- hahh- I just wanted attention. They say the things I wanted you to say. I thought if you saw me that way- nnhhnn- that you’d never look at me.” Rafe grinds you down slowly so you feel every drag of his cockhead inside. His lips brush your jaw while hot breath spills across your skin. “You’re tellin’ me you get wet lettin’ strangers see what’s mine? That’s how fuckin’ desperate you are for me to notice?”
Your head landed heavily on his shoulder and your eyes flutter shut while your pussy squeezes around him. “Y-yes,” your whimper sounds broken and breathless. “I just wanted you to see me.” His cock slips out of you slowly and wet and heavy. Your walls flutter around nothing. You almost whine at the emptiness yet before you can his arms hook under your thighs and back. The sudden lift makes you gasp while your legs curl against him as he carries you across the room with ease. “You think I don’t know what’s goin’ on with my dick?” he mutters against your cheek. His breath is warm and his chest rises hard from the effort. “Doesn’t matter if I can’t keep it up. I’m still gonna fuckin’ eat you till you’re screamin’.” The couch cushions dip when he lowers you down. Your back sinks into the fabric as he pushes your knees apart spreading you wide before dropping to his knees on the floor.
His big hands slide up your thighs as his thumbs press into the soft flesh while he stares at your pussy glistening under the low light. “Look at this mess,” he says while dragging one thumb through your slit to spread it over your folds. “Leakin’ all over me like you don’t care who sees. You’d let me put you on your back anywhere wouldn’t you? Living room, kitchen, fuckin’ driveway if I wanted.” Heat floods your chest as your hands grip the cushions tight. “I’d let you,” you admit with your voice trembling. “Anywhere you want.” His mouth curves against your skin before it even touches you. The faint brush of his breath makes your hips twitch. “Knew you would. That’s why you sit there runnin’ your mouth about other men. You want me to drag it outta you.” His tongue finally slides up your slit slowly and wet until it flicks your clit. A desperate cry breaks free from your throat while your legs jerk against his shoulders. “nnhh- ahhnn- oh god yes.”
He groans low with his tongue circling your clit before pressing harder so his lips close around the bud to suck. “Fuck you taste better than anything I’ve had in my life. Can’t believe you've been keepin’ this from me.” Your fingers push into his hair and you tug without thought as your back arches. Every lap of his tongue drags your cunt wetter so slick noises mix with your breathless moans. “Rafe- hahh, mmffh- I wasn’t- hhnnghh-trying to keep it from you.” His grip on your thighs tightens so you cannot wriggle away. “You fuckin’ were. That’s why you went runnin’ to those old bastards online. Wanted to hear shit from them instead of me.” His mouth seals back around your clit while his tongue flicks fast and mercilessly.
You cry out while your thighs squeeze against his head yet his arms force them open again. “Mffhh- no- no I just- ahhnn- I wanted you.” He lifts his head just enough to growl against your swollen pussy. His stubble is rough against your folds. “Say that again,” he said close to your pussy. “I wanted you,” you repeat with eyes glassy and chest heaving. “Always you.” His tongue dives back in as it laps at your slit before curling inside while he eats you like he is starved. Every sound spilling from your mouth only makes him growl harder while his mouth locks on you like he is proving a point. Your wetness drips down the curve of your ass and wets the couch beneath you while his mouth works you over. Every drag of his tongue makes you twitch. When he slides two fingers through your slick folds the stretch has your thighs clenching tight around his head.
“ffuck- Rafe- ahhnn- oh god-” Your voice cracks when his knuckle pushes past and the thickness of his finger fills you deeper than you expected. Your walls flutter and spasm around him so greedily that it makes him laugh against your clit. “Jesus Christ you’re fuckin’ tight,” he groans while pushing his finger all the way inside before pulling it back slowly. “Can feel you squeezin’ like you don’t ever wanna let me go.” His tongue circles your clit while his finger thrusts in again and it curls until your back arches off the cushions. “nnghh- hahh ahh- don’t stop-” Your nails dig into his hair so you drag his face closer to your pussy.
He adds a second finger stretching you wider and his grin is filthy when you cry out. “mm listen to that. So wet you’re makin’ a mess all over my hand.” His fingers pump steadily while his mouth sucks at your clit until your legs shake. “Bet no one’s ever touched you like this. Bet nobody’s ever had this cunt gushin’ like I do.” Your eyes flutter while your chest rises quickly as you try to answer yet all that comes out are broken moans. “Ahhnn- mmffhh- nnhh ohh-” His voice drops lower and rough and taunting. “Taste better than any pussy I ever had. Better than hers too. You know that? Your sweet little cunt beats every woman I’ve been with.” His teeth scrape lightly over your clit and he chuckles when your whole body jerks. “God I like this. Young pussy so fuckin’ fresh it makes me drunker than the whiskey.” Your walls clamp down around his fingers at the words. Your body betrays you while shame burns hot in your stomach.
“mmphh oh god don’t- hahh- say that-” His words make your cheeks heated so you grow shy at the same time. “Why not?” he growls while dragging his fingers out just to slam them back in harder this time. “It’s the truth. You’re sittin’ here gushin’ all over my face moanin’ like a little slut for me. You fuckin’ love it. Love when I tell you how good you taste.” His thumb presses against your clit while his fingers piston into you. “Y-yes- I love it- I love when you- hnngghh- talk like that-” Your head falls back against the cushion while your hair sticks to your damp skin as you writhe. He keeps going until you can’t take it anymore. Everything shakes and your head feels light. It hits fast and it burns right through you. You can hear yourself moaning but it sounds distant like it’s not even you.
He breathes against you slow and rough and you know he’s smiling because he got what he wanted. You’re falling apart right there and he’s watching every second of it. “Fuckin’ knew it.” His tongue licks messily over your folds so he smears your slick across his mouth before sucking at your clit again. “Just sit there because I’m going to keep you spread out on this couch all night just so I can eat this pussy whenever I want.” He proves it by not stopping even when you’re shaking like he’s making a point. You can feel it in the way he moves. It’s not just about getting you off. You can tell he’s not stopping until he’s sure you’ll remember this. Until you can’t think about anything else but him.
summary: Rafe worked hard to get his life on track after years of self destruction. Now life was mundane and he liked it that way. Until he changes his routine and someone winds up in your doorway with a holiday sweater on. His bright optimistic neighbor may be what he’s always needed to feel whole again.
warning: SMUT, neighbor!reader x rafe, grumpy x sunshine kinda, strangers to friends to lovers, mutual pining, cursing, alcohol, mentions of drugs/drug abuse, dirty talk, pinv, oral (fem rec), cream pie (sorry), fingering (sorry again)
an: hi! clearing out my drafts. I started this in 2023 LOL but now I finished it. I kinda feel like I rushed the ending so sorry if it feels that way. I was indeed hanging out with penjamin while writing this. THIS IS LONG !!
-
Friday again.
The start of what would have been another weekend of fancy dinners, boring conversations, and drunk millionaires subtly trying to brag about all their new investments.
Usually on Friday’s after his end of the week meeting he’d go to the gentleman’s club and smoke a cigar. He’d use the time to reply to the few people from back home he still kept in contact with.
Then he’d go to dinner with associates or potential business partners if he needed to but he tended to avoid them as much as possible. It’d be at some five star restaurants where the portions would leave Rafe still hungry and that empty feeling in his chest would get bigger. After dinner he’d go to a bar and have a scotch if he still felt restless, catch up with his favorite bartender Lenny.
Then he’d go home to his cold quiet apartment. The living room and kitchen illuminated by the floor to ceiling windows. His minimalistic style making the room feel lonelier. He’d sigh loosen his tie and down a glass of water. He’d shower and maybe watch an episode of It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia then go to bed. It was the usual routine of the weekend, he never strayed too far from it.
For a guy who had every thing and could get anything he wanted he felt so empty.
After Rafe turned his life and career around he slowed down. No more drugs, blacking out, and late night partying. Just cigars, one glass of scotch or champagne, and his focus on his company. He decided drowning himself in work was a lot better than drowning in booze and drugs. He also wanted to make his sister’s happy, he didn’t want them to worry about him anymore. It wasn’t their job to look after their big brother. He was supposed to look after them.
It took them showing up at his doorstep and dragging him to a family intervention to realize that. He’d never forget the look on their faces when he opened the door to them. He was already drunk wiping dust off his nose and sporting a swollen black eye, it was only eight in the morning.
Rafe would go radio silent for days not telling anyone anything. He’d be partying somewhere in some part of the world ignoring calls from his family and real friends. Then his dad passed and he got worse. His path of self destruction led to Sarah or Wheezie bailing him out of jail more than a couple times. Or they’d get a call from some hospital that Rafe was there after being beaten to a bloody pulp.
They couldn’t take it anymore so they forced him to go to either get clean on his own and get his shit together or he goes to rehab. They couldn’t watch him continue down the path he was on.
At first Rafe was angry. How could they think he couldn’t take care of himself. After he sobered up at Sarah’s house everything hit him. This was why he did the drugs and partied, He didn’t want to think about everything he had done or how he had treated people. He listened to them and got clean on his own. Started seeing a therapist who recommended he go to narcotics anonymous.
He did a lot of reflecting and since then has tried to repair the damage he did. He hardened and built walls around himself and kept his life simple.
Rafe got the company back on track and moved headquarters to New York. He moved into a nice building. Cut off his toxic so called friends. He realized they were never his friends to begin with. They just used him for his money and access to drugs. Women just hung around him for the same reasons. He was always having meaningless hookups that he thought were helping him fill that void in his chest. Nothing ever did though.
He started taking care of himself by eating better and working out. Anything to keep him away from his old vices, and it works. He liked seeing his sisters not stressed out about him and Rafe liked being invited to family Christmas.
It’s been a little over two years now since the intervention and a year since he had moved. Now his life had a routine, but it was starting to feel mundane. Rafe knew it was for the better but he craved something. He didn’t crave his old lifestyle whatsoever but he did want more. Something to come home to.
-
In an effort to make life interesting this Friday on his way home Rafe decided it wouldn’t be like every weekend. He went to the grocery store to pick up ingredients for a grilled cheese with tomato soup. It was raining out and putting on sweatpants and eating his comfort food while watching his favorite movie sounded a lot better than the gentleman’s club. This was his new way of spicing up his life now. Grilled cheeses instead of weekend benders in Miami on coke.
His therapist did tell him it was important to take time to enjoy the simple things.
After stopping at the grocery store he arrived at his apartment building. Even though he’d lived here for a year now it still didn’t really feel like home.
As he walked into the lobby he greeted Peter, the security guard and Shauna the building receptionist. He then noticed you waiting at the elevators. Reusable grocery bags in your hands, your nails painted a deep wine red color. You lightly rocked back and forth on your feet and shrugging your shoulder to keep your purse from slipping.
You turned to him as you felt someone stand beside you. You smiled at him, “Going up?”
He nodded and cleared his throat adjusting his hold on the paper grocery bag in his hands. Rafe really didn’t feel like making small talk. Especially not when your soft kind voice made him feel like his tie was a little too tight.
You laughed lightly, “look at us,” you lifted the bags in your hands to show him, “not getting takeout and cooking tonight, what are you making?”
wow she really talks a lot. Rafe thought. He wasn’t too interested in getting to know his neighbors, especially not the ones that had bright eyes and a perfect smile. His routine would get too messed up. Before he could answer the elevator dinged and the doors opened. Saved by the bell.
The both of you stepped in and you pressed the button for the twenty seventh floor, “What floor?” you asked turning to him.
“Same one,” He gave you a small tight lipped smile.
You smiled at him before asking him again, “So what are you making?”
Guess he couldn’t escape the small talk, “Tomato soup and grilled cheese.”
“Oh that’s like the best food in the world, I’m making a salmon bowl. And some cinnamon rolls too.”
Rafe nodded his head. For some reason he felt nervous and almost irritated with you. Because he couldn’t focus on anything but your soft hair and pretty glossy lips. He didn’t like how his heart picked up pace and his palms began to sweat. You must have taken his silent responses as a hint he didn’t want to talk because you didn’t say anything else.
The doors opened on their floor and Rafe let you step out first. His eye almost twitched as you turned in the same direction his apartment was. Rafe’s brows furrowed as you kept walking towards his apartment.
Were you going the wrong way? Were you doing this on purpose to torture him?
He’s a gentleman. At least he’s trying to be one so he tried not to look at the way your skirt fit your hips but he couldn’t help it. He really felt like a creep. He took a deep breath and held his groceries a little tighter.
If a stranger would have seen the two of them they’d think they were a couple. Until you passed his door to unlock the door a few feet down. So this was his neighbor. The one whose music he always heard playing loudly as he walked to his apartment after his morning run on Sundays. He knew he had gotten a new neighbor a while ago but he never bothered to meet them.
As you opened your door you stepped halfway in and turned to him as he opened his door, “It was nice to meet you,” you looked at him expectantly with this smile that made his eye want to twitch. Why did you have to look so sweet?
“Rafe,” He gave a quick smile, “Nice to meet you.” Before he closed the door to his apartment before you could respond. Just because you slightly bothered him with your cheery tone and contagious smile didn’t mean he was going to be a complete asshole. Although now that he thinks about it he didn’t get your name.
He was also kind of annoyed because he got this weird fuzzy feeling in his chest when you looked at him. Rafe had never really felt that before. His palms still felt slightly damp. He hadn’t felt attracted to a woman in so long he forgot what it felt like. But this felt like more than just a physical attraction.
Rafe has been too focused on himself and work to even think about the possibility of him dating. He thinks the last thing he wants to do is date someone because it came with complications. He didn’t want to open up to anyone. That meant there’d be someone else to disappoint if he fucks up again.
-
You groaned once your door was fully closed. Did you just make a fool of yourself by going on about your boring Friday night plans to your hot neighbor? He was doing the same thing so that did make you feel a little better.
You finally got to meet your neighbor, your hot neighbor. If you had known that a man that looked like that had been living across from you the last three months you would have brought over a plate of cookies on day one. He was quiet and you liked that, but you’re sure he didn’t like your incessant need to fill the silence with conversation. It was something you tended to do a lot.
As you set your bags on the counter and turned the lights on your roommate jumped onto the counter. You smiled at the sight of Juno your fluffy grey cat.
“Hi juno. I missed you sweet girl,” You smiled as you pet her and kissed her head.
“You think I blew it with hot neighbor man?” You asked the cat with a sigh.
She meowed at you and purred as you scratched under her chin, “I think so too,” You sighed, “But I don’t need to be thinking about men right now anyways.”
As you began preparing dinner you couldn’t help but replay the interaction in your head. The music coming from the tv not helping in distracting you. You shouldn’t even be worrying about it because it’s not like anything is going to happen. He seemed a little too broody now that you think about it. But maybe he just had a bad day.
One of your bad habits was always trying to see the good in people. It’s left your heart broken a too many times now and it’s why you should be protecting your heart instead of day dreaming of a man you just met. It was hard to do that when you’re such a hopeless romantic.
It was hard not to think about him when he looked the way he did. He was prince charming handsome. You’ve been living in the building for three months and this is the first time you’ve seen him, you’re sure you won’t see him again for a long time.
-
Rafe laughed at a scene from It’s always sunny in Philadelphia as he dipped his grilled cheese into his tomato soup. The warm kitchen light and city skyline keeping his apartment dimly lit. It felt less empty with less lighting illuminating the plain walls.
His mind couldn’t help but wander off to his neighbor across the hall. How had he not run into you by now, it’s not like he was always gone, he actually spent a lot of time at home. They must have different schedules. Then he started wondering what you do, where you worked, what your day to day looked like. He felt like a creep again for thinking about you so much.
It had been a while since he liked a woman like that. Or even looked at a woman in any sort of way other than platonic. He hadn’t hooked up with anyone in over a year now because he felt like he was too old for hooks up and he didn’t want to deal with the consequences of the morning after. He hadn’t had a crush since high school.
A crush, he felt pathetic for even spending a moment on the fleeting feeling. He didn’t have time for that stuff crushes were for teenage boys not grown men with bills to pay.
-
Saturday’s were your favorite because you get to sleep in and enjoy a slow morning with your coffee at home. Then you’d spend your morning making breakfast before taking a trip to the flea market or the park to journal.
Except today you had woken up at five in the morning and couldn’t go back to sleep. After tossing and turning for an hour you decided to get up and just start your day. Already thinking about the nap you’d take later before dinner.
As you waited for the espresso to finish you looked out through the tall windows and saw the sun beginning to peak between the other buildings. You loved your new apartment and you were constantly finding new things to fall in love with.
After you got promoted about a year ago you worked even harder and to get yourself your dream place. The tall windows and dark floors were something out of your dreams. You had added so much of your own personal style to the space leaving no inch untouched. You were a bit of a maximalist but in a good way. It made the space feel cozy and like a home.
As you made your coffee just right you decided it would be the perfect day to enjoy it on the roof as you watched the sunrise. Might as well take advantage of all the amenities you paid for.
Putting on your outdoor slippers and an old college sweatshirt you made your way out not before promising Juno you’d be back in a little to feed her. When you turned around after locking your door you see Rafe walking down the hall towards you. He was dressed in a grey fitted work out shirt and gym shorts. His cheeks a little pink and he had his headphones in.
You smiled softly at him wanting to be a polite neighbor. Yeah that’s it, you thought. I’m just being neighborly.
“Morning,” You said as you walked towards him, your smile widening.
He gave a tight lipped smile as he passed you, “Mornin.”
Your cheeks felt hot as you saw him up close. His chest rising and falling a little faster than normal. You guessed he had gone on a run. His muscles taut against the tight shirt. He looked incredibly delicious. Rafe also smelled extremely intoxicating, even after working out you could smell his manly musk of sandalwood and cedar.
You really needed to get out more so you didn’t ogle every attractive man you met. For some reason his disinterest in socializing made you all the more curious about him.
In your experience usually guys who look like him would take any opportunity to charm a woman. Maybe you were undesirable to him. The thought made you tug hold your mug a little tighter. As if the hot ceramic could burn away the insecurities you tried to avoid.
As you made it into the elevator you shook your head softly ridding yourself of the negative thoughts as you pressed the button for the roof. You weren’t going to let yourself go down a hole of self doubt, not when you’ve worked so hard to be out of it.
As the doors began closing you looked up to find him already looking at you. He quickly looked away as if he’d been caught and pushed his door open.
-
It was Sunday morning now and the music that was coming from next door was driving him crazy. He never usually minded but he had some work to do, and it was hard to focus with smashing pumpkins being played at max volume. Rafe is sure no other neighbors have complained because you were at the end of the hall so you only shared walls with him.
He huffed as he got up from the couch. He didn’t want to be that guy and complain about noise at ten in the morning but after his encounters with you he’s sure you’ll be just as nice as you always are. A little too nice in his opinion.
The only thing holding him back was your interaction from the day before. The image of you in your slippers and big sweatshirt was one he couldn’t get out of his mind. You looked so domestic with your stripped mug and warm tired smile. He felt like he had gone on another six mile run with the way you smiled at him.
After he went into his apartment he had to take a cold shower to stop himself from imagining you looking like that in his apartment. He wanted to not think about how you probably take your coffee really sweet.
Rafe groaned and pushed that image of you to the back of his mind. He needed to focus and he needed you to turn down the music.
He knocked on the door a little forcefully so you could hear him over the music. Rafe knew you heard him once the music lowered. A few seconds later the door opened revealing his too sweet neighbor and of course she was wearing small black sleep shorts that had a little white bow on them along with the matching top. That matching top a little too short and exposing a sliver of your midriff.
“Hi Rafe,” You smiled leaning against the door. Your eyes bright with excitement.
“Hey uh do you mind keeping it down a bit,” He rubbed the back of his neck stiffly like he was asking the most insane request, “I’m trying to work and it’s uh a bit distracting.”
Your eyes widened and your face flushed with embarrassment, “Oh yeah of course I’m so sorry,” you let out a breathy laugh, “I’m sorry if that’s been bothering you for a while. I know I play my music kind of loud sometimes.”
You couldn’t bear to look at him now. Had he just never said anything to be polite? You felt guilty, who knows how many other neighbors you’ve bothered.
“It never does usually,” He shrugged trying to reassure you. Maybe he wasn’t as broody as your first suspected.
That made you feel a little better, “I-I can give you my number that way you can just text me and you don’t have to come all the way over here,” You said a bit hopeful. You at least wanted to be friendly with the guy, he did live next door.
He shrugged, “Uh sure.” He cleared his throat as he pulled his phone out of his pocket.
He handed it to you with the new contact open. After typing your number and name in you handed it back, his long fingers brushing against yours. It made your face feel hot. Had it really been that long since you’ve been touched by a man? You guess it had been a while if him touching your hand was sending a fluttering feeling to your stomach.
Now he knew your name as he looked down at the contact. It suited you, maybe he’d have the opportunity to say it soon. See how it sounds coming out of his mouth. He wondered if it would sound just as sweet as when you say his name.
“Thanks again for turning it down,” He gave you a tight lipped smile before turning around to walk back to his apartment.
You didn’t want the interaction to end. Who knew when the next time you’d see him would be. This weekend could be the last time you see him for the next two years you live here and you will not let that happen, “Uh Rafe!”
He turned around with a raised brow, “Uh I’m having people over this upcoming weekend, a sort of early holiday party before everyone goes out of town. I’ve invited some of the other neighbors so it’d be great if you stopped by,” you smiled at him.
How was Rafe supposed to say no to that face? He was really starting to dislike you only because he was starting to like you more. You were making his head feel like it was floating, his palms were starting to sweat again. He realized he hadn’t said anything in a minute when you spoke up again, “but uh if you have plans that’s totally cool! I under-“
“I’ll be there,” He nodded giving you that awkward smile again.
You beamed slightly bouncing on your white painted toes, “Great! I’ll see you then, wear your best christmas sweater!”
He nodded waving goodbye. What had he just done?
He rubbed his eyes with a sigh as he locked his door behind him. He just committed to something he didn’t even want to go to. He wouldn’t know anyone there and he didn’t care to meet his neighbors, if he did he would have tried to after he moved in. But you’re big doe eyes and soft legs blinded his logical thinking.
He groaned as he sat back on his couch. Instead of finishing his work he was shopping for a stupid sweater to wear to his beautiful neighbors holiday party.
-
The following week came and went as usual for him. Nothing new and exciting.
Rafe hadn’t seen you all week, your schedules must have been completely different. Even Friday night he didn’t see you waiting for the elevator. It’s not like he chose to stay in again on purpose or anything in hopes of running into you. He’d never do anything like that.
He wondered if you went out with friends or had come home earlier. He tried not to think of the possibility of you being out on a date, the thought alone made this weird churning feeling in his stomach appear.
Now it was Saturday and he could faintly hear the opening and closing of the door next door. The muffled sounds of people laughing and talking along with the loud music that was usually reserved for your Sunday mornings traveled through his apartment.
Rafe was standing in front of the mirror in his bathroom running his hands over his face incessantly. He wondered if he should have gotten a haircut before tonight. He felt like a stupid teenager again worrying about how he looked. On top of that he was wearing a corny Christmas patterned navy blue and white sweater. He groaned debating if he should just take it off and stay in instead.
Then the thought of possibly disappointing you crossed his mind. Now he was determined to go. Even though you probably don’t care if he goes or not, too entertained with the other guests.
Truth was you had been anxiously awaiting his arrival. You walked around your apartment making sure everyone had full glasses and there was plenty to eat. You tried to make conversation but it was hard to stay focused when all you could think about was the man next door. You’d come to the conclusion that he probably wasn’t coming since it had been a couple hours since the party started and everyone invited was already there.
After a conversation with the girls from the floor below you you walked into your kitchen to serve yourself some more white wine. You sighed before taking a drink. A knock at the front door startled you. You set your glass down, your heart picking up it’s pace at the thought of who it could be.
You opened the door and your smile widened when it revealed who you hoped it’d be. Rafe stood there looking incredibly handsome in a holiday sweater holding a bottle or wine. That awkward adorable smile on his face.
“You made it!” You said cheerfully as you motioned him to come in.
“I did, thanks for uh inviting me,” He said as he walked in, “where can I?” he motioned to the bottle in his hands.
“Oh you can just leave it in the kitchen, follow me.” You led him to where the other bottles of alcohol were.
“Would you like anything to drink? Any food?” You asked hoping to be the best hostess.
Rafe definitely needed a drink, even though he already felt drunk off of your smile. You looked adorable in your red holiday sweater and short skirt. Seeing you be a hostess making sure he got whatever he needed made his pants feel a little tighter.
“Yes please. I’ll just have what you’re having,” He motioned to your glass.
You smirked playfully, “Good choice.”
-
It had been a little over an hour since Rafe had gotten there and he had talked to a few people. After you served his wine you introduced him to people. He got stuck in conversation with some guy who also worked in real estate development. After a few minutes of you politely standing there with him you were pulled away by a blonde girl.
He had been pulled into many conversations now and he wasn’t having a horrible time. It was nice to talk to people outside of his company and his very small circle of friends from back home. These people didn’t just talk about business which he liked. He knows his therapist will be happy he’s getting to know more people.
Rafe wished that you could be the one directing him around again. He hasn’t gotten the chance to talk to you since you were pulled away. He was beginning to worry that he was crushing on his annoying neighbor that he never actually found annoying. He was actually itching to be near you, stealing glances at you every now and then.
He liked how attentive you were to everyone around you. Always making sure everyone was having a good time. It seemed like you liked taking care of the people around you. Rafe could see how you lit up the room and just how much other people liked you. That tugging feeling in his heart was back as he watched you laugh.
As Rafe listened to the story the guy who lives at the other end of the hall was telling he looked around your apartment. It felt so cozy. There were various lamps on, no over head lighting. He liked that. You also had cool art hung up and pictures with friends and family. Your bookshelf in the living room was full of books and trinkets. No space was left untouched and he liked it a lot. It was like he got to see a small part of you.
It was the complete opposite of his apartment even though the spaces were identical in layout.
You couldn’t stop looking at him any chance you had. When he was in the room it felt like he owned it, and not just because he was so tall and built. Despite how brooding and quiet he seemed the first few times you talked to him he was actually charming. He knew how to talk to people and he walked into a room like he knew he belonged there. But he wasn’t aggressive which you liked, you hated overbearing men who felt like they needed all the attention.
As the night went on you desperately wanted to get to know him more. The opportunity only came towards the end of the night.
Everyone had started to leave early to head to a few bars down town wanting to continue the festivities at a different location. You didn’t mind, it meant you’d be in bed before one in the morning so there were no complaints from you.
The last group of people bid you goodbye as you held the door open. The girls from downstairs promising to text you later in the week to get dinner. Trailing behind them was Rafe, his hands in his pockets looking a bit nervous.
He had planned to be the last one out just to be able to thank you for inviting him without a bunch of people around. Rafe didn’t want someone else to steal your attention.
“Thank you for inviting me tonight. I had a good time,” Rafe grinned. Not that half tight lipped smile he usually gave you so it made your smile grow even wider.
“Of course! I’m glad we finally got to meet after living next to each other for months,” You tucked a strand of hair behind your ears. His blue eyes were so intense it made your skin prickle.
He nodded, “Yeah, so uh I guess I’ll see you around.”
You tried to ignore the pit of disappointment in your stomach. Nodding your head, “Yeah definitely, hopefully.” You laughed softly at your awkwardness.
He nodded his head with that ridiculously handsome grin that you preferred over his half smiles. As he walked past you his intoxicating cologne filled the air, how did he still smell so good.
You’d like to blame that hypnotizing smell on the next words that left your mouth, “Farmer’s market!” you exclaimed as he was halfway to his door. You winced at yourself before he turned around.
He turned around with a raised brow, “What about them?”
“Tomorrow morning. There’s a farmer’s maket a few blocks away um I go one sunday a month and well tomorrow’s that sunday,” You rambled on not being able to stop the word vomit, “They have the best strawberries and the prettiest flowers. They also have great sourdough bread and that’s the best kind of bread for grilled cheeses.”
Rafe was sure he was going to pass out. You are just so adorable it was melting his icy heart. He could tell you felt nervous by the way you fiddled with your hands but your contagious smile never faltering. But there was still that voice in his head telling him no.
“Uh I actually have some work to get done so I can’t.”
He immediately noticed your posture sag and smile deflate a bit, “Oh yeah I understand. See you around.” You were most definitely regretting opening your mouth.
You closed the door behind you feeling a bit like an idiot but you weren’t going to let yourself dwell on it too long. It’s not like he was rude and he could even have a girlfriend. What were you thinking? You thought. You had picked up where you left off, putting glasses in the dishwasher, when there was a knock at the door.
It must’ve been someone forgetting their coat or something. You opened the door with a warm smile, your eyes immediately widening as Rafe stood there looking almost bashful?
This you definitely weren’t expecting, but you smiled anyways. He looked almost relieved when your lips curved upwards.
“You know work can wait. What time should we leave?” He asked with this look in his eyes that you couldn’t quite figure out.
Oh god you were so screwed.
-
Rafe was a fool.
A complete utter fool. He should have introduced himself to his bright bubbly neighbor months ago. Because for the first time in years he was actually having fun. He didn’t get to laugh like this with his friends from the finance department or feel this relaxed. Ever.
After knocking on your door at exactly 8am, the time you both had agreed to, he sat around on your couch while you ran around looking for reusable bags and your left shoe. He didn’t care though, he would have waited hours on your couch petting your cat Juno if it meant he got to be around you.
When you finally had all your things you smiled brightly at him. To which he returned a half smile, you felt like soon enough you’d get a full one.
Now you guys were walking side by side as he carried your reusable bags filled with groceries. As soon as you put the first items you bought into your tote bag Rafe took it from you. Not even offering to carry them just taking them from you.
“Oh I can carry that. You don-“ You had started to say when he interrupted.
“It’s okay, I want to.”
You could have melted into the floor at that moment. The bare minimum was really getting to you, you needed a reality check.
The pair if you were walking around the farmer’s market looking like a couple. Something you noticed was that Rafe certainly got a lot of women’s attention.
As you walked you saw women stare at him with small flirty smiles and at the booths it seemed like they were trying to flirt with him. They’d touch his arm or lean in a little too much, even batting their eyelashes at him. Something about it made your eye twitch and this bubble of jealousy form in your stomach. You didn’t blame them I mean the guy was a walking calvin klein model.
Rafe didn’t even give them the time of day. Sure he was nice to them in the way he thinks is nice. Which means short answers and tight lipped smiles. The one person he wanted to touch his arm and lean in a little too much would be busy looking at the jams or the cherry tomatoes.
“So what do you do for work again?” You asked as you neared the end of market to go back home.
You had gotten to know him a bit since you guys had walked the market. You found out how many siblings he had and where he grew up. How both of his parents had passed away and where he went to college. He had told you a few stories from his college years. He had narrowly avoided any stories that would reveal the dark part of his past.
“I work in real estate development.”
“Ohhhhh,” you nodded trying to pretend you knew what that meant.
Rafe huffed a small chuckle, “You know a little something about real estate development?” He teased her trying to hide his almost smirk as he took a sip of his coffee.
You laughed, “Definitely not, I have no idea what that is.”
He nodded, “It’s not really anything worth explaining, what do you do?”
“I’m the marketing director for a record label,” You grinned.
He was impressed to say the least, but not too surprised. From what little he knew about you he knows you’re smart and driven, “That’s really impressive.”
“Thank you, I got promoted a little over a year ago. I love my job even though sometimes it feels like I’m just trying to keep my head above water.”
“I know the feeling.”
“Do you travel a lot for your job?” You asked curiously.
He shook his head, “Not too much. I don’t really like to be away from home too much.”
You nodded, “I’m surprised it took us so long to meet.”
“We’ve probably always missed each other.”
You smiled, “Well it looks like we’re friends now.”
Friends.
Despite the massive crush he felt growing he settled for friends. He didn’t feel as if he deserved you in any other capacity.
-
That weekend was the start of a complicated friendship.
A few days later you texted him a picture of some ingredients you were using from the farmer’s market for dinner. Rafe was surprised to see a text notification from you. A small grin tugging at his lips as he read your message and examined the picture of your set up. He replied quickly asking you to send a picture of your final product.
That’s when you took the opportunity to invite him over for dinner. He took a few minutes to reply and you bit your nails anxiously as you leaned back against the counter. Phone in hand awaiting the bubble with three dots to pop up. Instead of a reply you got a knock on your door.
It startled you, your heart beating rapidly. You opened the door to Rafe with a package of frozen premade cookie dough.
“I brought dessert,” He said before clearing his throat. Maybe he should have texted you back first. That thought faded as you smiled brightly and ushered him in.
That turned to having dinner together once a week. Stating it would be a nice little tradition between you two. Something you do as friends.
Just friends. Friendly neighbors.
Pretty soon Rafe found out you’d never seen anything from the Star Wars franchise and he wanted to change that. He invited you over for a movie night the following weekend. It had taken him five minutes of pacing around his kitchen to muster up the courage to text you.
What if you were a temporary part of his life. Rafe had also been hesitant because he didn’t want to be able to picture you in parts of his apartment, it’d be too hard to forget you. He had this aching feeling in his chest that you were going to start dating some guy and this would end. The last two months of weekly dinners and another trip to the farmers market had been the best two months of his life.
Over that time you had gotten to know each other a lot more. You knew more about him than any of the people he had ever spent Friday nights with. Now he spent every Friday having dinner with you.
You got to see a new side of Rafe, one not so broody. He was more of a gentle giant. Even though you had talked about anything and everything it was hard to get him to talk about his childhood or about his parents.
You also noticed he would get a little uncomfortable whenever you asked him about what he did after college. He’d give short answers about traveling and interning with his dad, never giving many details. You didn’t question it though, not wanting him to close back up to the guy you had met in the elevator.
When he invited you over you had to bite your lip to keep yourself from giggling like a school girl. He had texted you in the middle of the work day. You sat at your desk grinning like a fool at your phone as you replied stating you’d bring snacks.
Once you saw his apartment you just about started crying. It seemed so empty and sad. It didn’t reflect the man you knew Rafe was underneath all that cold hardness. You immediately begged him to let you decorate his apartment. It didn’t take much convincing. You thought it was because he didn’t know how to decorate it himself and needed some help.
The truth was that he couldn’t say no to you. That was definitely going to be a problem for him.
-
Eight months had passed since that first meeting in the elevator. And six months since you had started watching Star Wars together. The so called friendship only got more complicated since then.
Especially since you were standing in front of your mirror smoothing out the dark purple dress you were wearing. One you had been saving for a special occasion and this counted as one right?
Rafe had asked if you’d be his date to a silent auction one of his clients was hosting to raise money for a non profit. He seemed nervous when he asked you, scratching the back of his head with this subtle flush in his cheeks. You just about melted into the floor at his question. The last eight months had been torture.
You were sure he didn’t see you as anything more than a friend because he never pulled a move. Whenever you had become friends with guys and thought it was platonic they’d eventually confess their feelings. Which were never reciprocated so it crumbled the friendship. It almost felt like a cruel joke that the one time you longed for that you weren’t getting it.
But you liked having Rafe as a friend and you’d rather have him that way than to not have him at all.
You applied another coat of lipgloss making sure you looked perfect. You wanted to make a good impression on his colleagues. You had met a couple of his friends in passing when you two were out getting coffee and someone he knew was there. Or that one time he convinced you to go on a run with him and you ran into one of his lawyers. This time you wanted to look presentable and not like a sweaty just rolled out of bed mess.
Rafe knocked on your front door hesitantly. He was nervous. It was like the first time coming over for that holiday party that was the beginning of one of his most cherished relationships.
The last few months have been absolute torture for him too. He was so worried about ruining what you two had. Rafe wanted you to be his girlfriend. He wanted to kiss you, hold you close, and make dinner with you every night. But he was terrified that you didn’t want that and he didn’t want to lose you. He also wasn’t even sure if he was fully ready to dive into a relationship like that despite his desires.
When you opened the door his mouth felt like cotton. He wasn’t going to survive the night, not when you looked like that looking at him with those eyes.
He swallowed nervously, “You look ethereal,” one of the many things he thought about you.
your breath caught in your throat, “You’re too sweet Rafey.” You smiled at him. Face hot with adoration as you looked at him in his all black suit.
He cleared his throat stuffing his hands a little further into his pockets, “You ready to go?”
You nodded and he held the door open for you as you stepped out. Of course he was wearing the cologne you got him a few weeks ago when you went on a work trip to Milan. You had smelt it and instantly thought of him. Before you gave it to him you were worried it might be over stepping, cologne felt like a gift you only give your boyfriend or dad. His face when you showed him completely wiped that insecurity away.
-
The drive to the venue was comfortably quiet. Rafe playing the playlist you had made for him a month ago of songs you declared he needed to know. Everything about the situation felt warm and intimate. Like you did this all the time.
Like you’d go home and get unready together in your and Rafe’s jack and jill bathroom. Then lay in bed together, he’d be typing away on his laptop you’d be reading that book you haven’t stopped talking about. The tv softly playing snl as you started drifting off. In a perfect world he’d kiss your cheek and put your book on your bedside table and turn the lights off. In the dark he’d pull you closer to his chest.
But that was just a fantasy. One you played in your head the whole drive there, barely even noticed you two had arrived. Rafe pulled in front of the venue. Your door was opened by valet and Rafe rounded the car to hold his hand out to you as you stepped out.
You smiled politely at the young man who worked valet thanking him. Rafe had handed his keys to the guy on his side so you two walked up the steps of the museum together. He didn’t let go of your hand the entire time.
Not until you two reached the bar and he ordered you a glass of champagne and a whiskey for himself.
You felt a bit out of place. You were used to going to events and galas but never as anyone’s plus one. It almost felt relieving to not have to worry about where you’re seated and that you need to talk to everyone. What would the valet situation look like, when is it too soon to leave. With Rafe you had nothing to worry about. It’s what you loved about being with him is that you were allowed to turn your brain off.
“So how does this work exactly?” You asked him as yoh both looked around at the various art pieces and art in glass cases. A silver box with a small slit opening at the top next to each piece, as well as a table with small cards and pens.
“You fill out a card with your bid then you slip it in the box. At the end of the night they’ll announce the highest bid on each piece.”
You nodded, “I see, so you gonna bet on anything Mr.Cameron?” A small teasing smirk on your lips.
He huffed a soft laugh, “Possibly if something catches my eye. I have my part time interior designer with me so let me know if anything catches your eye.”
You looked around, “These all look like art pieces I don’t understand because they’re so,” you trailed off.
“Simple and could be done by a four year old,” Rafe finished as you both looked around at the paintings with colorful circles and splashes of paint. They were being auctioned for thousands of dollars.
“At least it’s for a good cause,” You shrugged finishing off your glass of champagne.
He chuckled, “Yeah true. And to inflate these rich people’s egos.”
Rafe grabbed the empty glass from your hand and set it back on the bar. He motioned the bartender for a refill which you gladly accepted.
“Come on let’s walk around a bit and then we can probably head out,” Rafe placed a hand on the small of your back leading you out to the crowd.
As you two approached a few of the paintings an older man came up to Rafe.
“Rafe it’s good to see you, how have you been?” The older grey haired man said as he stuck his hand out for him to shake.
Rafe shook his hand, “I’m good Sal, how are you?”
Something you had still not gotten used to is how Rafe’s demeanor changed around other people. He would go back to the way he was when you two first met. A wall would build up and any emotion he had would disappear.
“I’m great, new grand baby on the way,” He smiled proudly before his eyes landed on you, “I’m Sal a long time friend of this guy, glad he finally got himself a girlfriend.” He patted Rafe’s shoulder affectionately as he smiled.
You stuck your hand out to shake his. Cheeks feeling hot from the assumption, “I’m y/n, nice to meet you.”
Rafe’s mind was racing. You didn’t clear anything up. Just letting this guy think you’re his girlfriend. The pride that filled his chest was overwhelming. It felt good to be claimed, even if it wasn’t true.
“Sal is a long time client and friend,” Rafe introduced.
Sal nodded his head, “I’ve known this kid since he was giving his old man hell from all that partying.”
Rafe’s insides twisted. No. Not here, not now.
You looked up at him questioningly, “That’s a long time then since he’s a homebody now. Spend most of our nights cooking dinner and watching movies.”
The anxiety on his face was enough for you to know not to question further on what exactly that partying was. Rafe cleared his throat and placed a hand at the small of your back, “It was nice to see you Sal, we better go place a big before someone beats us to it.”
They bid their goodbyes. Sal promising to invite the lovely couple to dinner with him and his wife.
-
The night went on with no other hiccups. You had noticed that the anxiety on his face didn’t go away. He was stiff and quieter than usual, it was like those walls he had up when you first met were back.
After another hour or so the two of you decided to leave. Even the car ride home was quiet but not with the comfortable silence from the drive there. It took everything in you to bite your tongue and not ask a million questions on the drive back and then on the elevator ride up.
As the two of you walked down the hall you spoke up, “Want to come over for some tea?”
You could see him contemplate his decision before he spoke, “Uh yeah sure.”
As he sat at a bar stool in your kitchen you contemplated how to ask him about earlier. You didn’t want to scare him away or make him feel like he has to share something he’s not ready for. When you place the polka dot mug, that was unofficially Rafe’s, in front of him he spoke up.
“I need to tell you something,” He completely undid his tie placing it on the counter.
“What’s up?” You asked cautiously.
He rubbed his face and sighed, “I was a really stupid teenager.”
You laughed softly, “Me too.”
He shook his head, “No like stupid. I got into stupid things like drugs. I ruined my life for a while. There’s so much,” He swallowed thickly, “So much I want to tell you. I moved here when I got everything back on track and I’m clean now. But there’s things I’ve done. Things I regret and I swear I want to tell you it all but I just-“
You interrupt him by stepping between his legs and wrapping your arms around his neck, “Rafe it’s okay, you don’t need to tell me anything you’re not ready too.”
He wrapped his arms around you and laying his head in the space where your neck met your shoulder, “But you deserve to know everything.” He mumbled breathing you in. The smell of you bringing him back down to earth.
Your hand moved to his head scratching softly at the short hair trying to offer any sort of comfort, “It’s okay, you can tell me everything another day. Another time.”
He didn’t say anything after that. If he could stay in this position forever he would, just being held by you. It’d been so long since he had been held or touched it was addicting. He lifted his head looking at you in a way you couldn’t read. It was always hard to read him yet he felt like you were the only person who understood him.
Your hands moved to cup his face, thumbs rubbing over his shard cheek bones in a soothing manner. He felt like a puppy when he leaned into your touch. His grip on your waist tightening as if to try and get you impossibly closer.
“Want to stay tonight?” You asked gently.
This was new territory for you two. Even this display of affection was new. He had never really hugged you or touched you this much. There were times where you’d fall asleep on his couch and your head would lean on his shoulder. Or he’d place a hand on your back to guide you through crowd, even sometimes wrapping an arm around your shoulder but that was it.
He nodded, “Yeah but-“ He cut himself off.
“But what?” You asked your voice barely above a whisper.
Your hands fell to rest on his shoulders. He took a deep breath as you saw the contemplation in his eyes, “I-I can’t be your friend.”
Your brows furrowed and you almost pulled back but he gripped you firmly, “What?” He stood so he was towering over you. Your back bow resting against the island. Your hands had moved down to rest on his chest.
“I like you,” He said softly and laughed, “Actually I think I love you. These months with you have been the best of my life. I’ve never felt so-so at home. No matter where I am if you’re there I feel at home.”
“Rafe I-“ He shook his head not letting you speak.
“I’m not done. You’re so warm and bright and everything I’m not. I’m not a good person, I’m not perfect but God does being around you really make me want to try harder. I’m scared I’ll fuck this up and lose you forever. Fuck I might already be doing that by telling you this but I think I’d be more mad at myself if I never told you how I feel. And fuck do I love you.”
You didn’t say anything instead you wrapped your hands around his neck and tugged him down to meet your lips. His surprise melted away quickly as he felt your mouth on him. Lips parting to give him everything he’s wanted, “I love you too.” You mumbled against his mouth not wanting to pull away.
Rafes hands were eager to touch anywhere he hadn’t already. Anywhere you’d allow him. They moved from your waist to cup your jaw. Everything felt electric like he could finally breathe.
“I love you so much,” He mumbled pulling away just slightly. Your foreheads touching and noses rubbing against each other.
“We can try this Rafe. I want to try this with you,” You placed your hands over his on your face.
He smiled. Really smiled, which around you it wasn’t rare anymore but it always made you feel good when he did, “You know I wanted to wait for our first date before I kissed you.”
You laughed, “I think we’re long past first dates.”
He shook his head with a playful frown, “Nuh uh I’m still taking you out on a date.”
You grinned softly and played with the lapels of his dress shirt, “Then what after?”
He smirked, “Then I’d kiss you.” He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. Not stopping there and repeating the movement to the other side. Then moving down to your jaw, behind your ear, down your neck.
Your eyes fluttering closed at the sensation. It was barely anything and it had heat pooling in your stomach. This side of him had been buried deep down, but over the months you had been wearing him thin.
Every time you bent over to pick something up or showed up in your little sleep shorts he had to clench his jaw to not think about you in other ways. Now he had a green light to give into those thoughts all of those desires. The soft whine you let out when he gently bit your neck assured him this is what you both wanted.
Rafe promised himself he wouldn’t fuck this up. You deserved the best and he was going to work every day to be the best for you and himself.
His right hand moved from your hip to your shoulder where his index finger dipped under the thin strap of your dress. He tugged at it playfully moving it down your shoulder. He kissed the newly exposed skin and god did you feel like a virgin. He was barely putting any pressure into the kisses and you felt feral.
“Rafe,” You sighed softly not really sure for what.
“Hmmm,” He hummed moving up to face you again, “Can I take this off you?”
You nodded your head furiously with glazed over eyes. He could ask you anything in this state and you’d agree. You felt warm and pliant in his hands. Rafe leaned down to kiss your mouth and pulled you with him as you both stumbled to your bedroom.
“I’ve wanted this for so long,” He practically groaned once he had you against the inside of your bedroom door, “Wanted you for so long.”
His hands reached behind you finding the tiny zipper that stood between him and everything he’s desired.
“Felt like I didn’t deserve it,” He murmured pulling the zipper down, “I still don’t think I do.”
The other strap fell off your shoulder. You couldn’t take the anticipation anymore so you pulled the dress down leaving you in nothing but a pair of pink lacy panties. You had forgone a bra in the name of fashion and by the look on his face was definitely the best decision.
“Fuck,” He groaned and kissed you with an intensity. A need beneath his movements that wasn’t there before.
Rafe’s hands glided up your thighs to your stomach and then to palm at your breasts. The feeling of them in his hands had him groaning into your mouth mixing with your soft sighs. The warmth of his hand made your back arch into them begging for more. His fingers tweaked the hard peaks making you moan a little louder.
He removed his hands to bend down and pick you up from the back of your thighs. He needed to be closer. He pressed you harder against the wall, and you could feel his hard length against your core.
His hips moving in small circles offering you both some friction. You felt like you were on fire never feeling as desired as you do now. It was all so hot and heavy.
Stepping back from the door he walked back to sit on your bed. You in his lap on top of him. He pulled away to mouth at your neck and chest.
“Rafe you feel so good,” You murmured in a state of lust.
He sighed as he kissed the tops of your chest, “And I’ve barely done anything sweetheart.”
Woah.
This Rafe was new. This slightly mean and cocky Rafe you hadn’t seen before and you were not complaining. He was so hot and the little meanness had the wet spot between your legs growing.
“Then do something,” You replied hoping to get a reaction from him.
And you were successful as he quickly flipped you onto your back. You let out a giggle as you bounced on the mattress.
“Oh I’ll do something baby,” He smirked and bit your shoulder playfully.
He kissed down your sternum and down your stomach until he was face to face where you needed him most. Kissing over your mound as his hands tugged the lace material down your legs tossing it aside. Rafe’s mouth watered. He was going to savor this moment, the taste and the feel of you.
“I thought you said you were going to do something,” You muttered wanting him to do anything but just admire you. He kissed your inner thighs, you could feel his grin against your skin.
“Patience,” He murmured, “I want to enjoy you. Savor you.”
You whined almost pathetically, “We have forever to do that, need you now.”
That’s when you felt his fingers glide through your slick. He let out a sound between a moan and a groan, “You’re so wet baby.”
He removed his fingers and placed his hands inside both thighs using his thumbs to spread you open. You didn’t even have time to react to the exposure his mouth was on you.
“Rafe!” You exclaimed as your eyes rolled back. His warm mouth sucked and licked at you.
He hummed and the vibrations added to the pleasure, “You said do somethin.”
You nodded your head in ecstasy, “Uh huhh.” Again you could feel that smirk against you.
He sucked at your clit and as he did so he slipped a finger inside your entrance. The intrusion fueling the growing heat in your lower belly.
Rafe never wanted to stop doing this. He wanted to keep those sounds coming out of you forever. The breathy whines and moans. He could feel you start to clench around his finger so he knew you were close. He added another one to bring you closer to the egde.
“Just like that yes,” You moaned all high pitched.
He removed his mouth to replace it with his thumb as he rubbed your clit and curved his fingers to hit that spot inside you.
“You like that?” He asked knowing the answer he just wanted to hear you say it again.
You nodded as tears pricked your eyes, “yes yes yes, I’m so close Rafe.”
“I know baby,” He cooed, “You’re taking everything so good. My good girl.”
That set you off along with him picking up his pace. Your orgasm crashed over you not even letting you tell him you were coming. Rafe loved you in all forms but you coming might be one of his favorites.
He pulled out gently and kissed your hip bone. He sat back on his knees as he unbuttoned his shirt as you cane down from your high. When you opened your eyes you saw him looking at you working on his shirt. You sat up and started helping him.
“Did it feel good?” He asked reaching out to rub your cheek softly and brushing some hair from your face.
You nodded while unbuttoning the last button, “Yes.”
He rubbed his thumb over your bottom lip as you stood on your knees and pushed his shirt off. Reaching for his belt you started undoing it. He watched as you unbuttoned his pants and slid them down. He stepped off the bed discarding them along with his boxers. Now your mouth was watering at the sight of him.
“If you keep looking at me like that I won’t last,” He leaned down to kiss you and gently pushed you back to lay down.
You pulled away as you laid flat again pouting, “I want you in my mouth.”
He smiled and gave you a quick peck, “Next time baby or else I won’t get to be inside you tonight.”
He guided your leg to wrap around his waist as the head of his cock nudged your folds. He let out a content sigh and dropped his head to the crook of your neck.
“Feel so fuckin good already,” He kissed your neck as he started to gently rutt into you. The tip of his head nudging at your entrance.
Your hips lifted to meet his short thrusts to try and get more of him inside, “Please please more.”
He could feel you dripping at this small amount of penetration. Rafe couldn’t keep torturing his sweet girl so he reached between to guide himself inside you. Not before nudging your clit a few times causing you to jolt a bit at the pleasure. You both let out a sigh as he seated himself inside you.
“Oh god Rafe please move,” You begged clawing at his back.
He gladly obliged as he started moving in and out. Angling himself to hit that spot that made your toes curl earlier. He lifted his head to kiss you again all teeth and tongue.
He sighed as he felt you squeeze around him, “Fuck so fuckin tight you feel insane.”
“I can’t believe we could have been doing this for so long,” You muttered utterly lost in the moment.
He brushed your hair away softly, “I’m sorry my pretty girl,” He groaned giving a particularly deep thrust, “I’ll fuck you every day to make up for it yeah?”
You nodded not even knowing what you’re agreeing too. Rafe wasn’t much of a talker but god did he have a filthy mouth. He picked up his pace when he started feeling you clench around him in that familiar way.
“You’re close huh?” He asked as he kept his pace. You could only nod your head.
“Come on baby come for me,” He coaxed reaching a hand down between your bodies to rub tantilizing circles on your clit, “I know you can do it.”
“Yes yes so close,” You moaned.
He groaned feeling you squeeze him, “Fuck making me close too sweetheart.”
“Finish with me Rafe,” You choked out as hips hips snapped harder into you.
“Where can-where should I-“
“Inside please inside,” You whined as you began to see stars. Everything around you disappeared and it was just you and him as you came around him. The way you squeezed him and the sounds you made pushed him over the edge. You felt him fill you up which made you whine as you felt it start to drip out already.
“Holy shit,” Rafe breathed. He leaned down kissing you softly, savoring the moment. He pulled away to look at you.
“You look really hot after you come,” He whispered. You broke into a fit of giggles feeling like you were floating on a cloud. His smile widened and he leaned down to kiss your cheek.
Rafe slowly pulled out and the emptiness making you whine, “I’ll be right back.”
After a couple minutes he returned with a warm towel to clean you up. He tossed it in the laundry basket in your bathroom before standing at your side in his boxers. You still laid on the bed naked with your eyes closed, a big goofy grin on your face.
“Need anything?” He asked bending down to kiss your forehead. You loved how Rafe was before and you really love him now. This new expressive care free Rafe.
“A shirt and you please?” You asked opening one eye to look at him.
“You got it,” He walked away and then you hesrd the front door close.
You sat up opening your eyes, “Rafe?” You called. There was no answer. Did he really just go home?
As you were about to get up you heard rhe front door open again and in comes Rafe doing a half jog. He held out two shirts to you.
“Which one do you want?” He asked.
You raised a brow at him, “You went home to get me one of your shirts?”
He nodded with a shrug, “Yeah you wanted a shirt so I got you one of mine.”
You burst into laughter taking the black tee shirt from him and slipping it on, “You could have given me literally anything from my closet.”
He sat against your headboard with a scoff, “Why would I not give you one of my shirts. I brought another so you could keep em here for whenever.”
You laid on his chest and sighed dreamily, “You are a good man Rafe Cameron.”
His chest swelled with pride. He knows he’s still got things to work on but he’s glad you’re giving him a chance. He’s glad he changed his routine eight months ago and then went to that stupid Christmas party.
𝙋𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: frat!Rafe Cameron x innocent Pogue!reader
𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: dark, dubcon, coercion, unhinged inner monologue from rafe continues, misogynistic rhetoric, classist rhetoric (in the context of kooks, pogues etc), daddy kink, innocence kink, mentions of smut, MAJORR size kink, daddy issues, condescension, babying, dirty talk, swearing, very unbalanced power dynamic, which rafe gets off on, slut-shaming, derogatory name calling, manipulation, college au, forced kissing, reader is a freshman and rafe is a senior, 18+ only, mdni
𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: Rafe tries to win you back, no matter at what cost.
𝘼/𝙉: It's finally here! Final word count: 19.5k. READ CHAPTER ONE HERE. Enjoy :)
“You have any more, Rafe?”
She sounds so whiny. They all sound so fucking whiney to him. He wishes they’d just shut up. Let him use them and then leave. He’s got two of them in his bed now, and for a while he’d watched listlessly as they’d kissed, played around, snorted coke off each other’s naked bodies like the desperate whores they were. He’d called them as a distraction, but now he didn’t even have the heart. Fucking pathetic.
“Bottom drawer.” He mutters, picking up his phone for the tenth time. One of the girls crawls over him, rummaging around in his drawers and brushing her naked body enticingly against him. He couldn’t give less of a shit though. His thumb hovers over your name saved on his phone, and for the hundredth time since the whole fiasco last week, he considers calling or texting you.
Rafe hadn’t run after you that day, when you’d overheard him talking all types of shit about you to his dumb fucking friends. When he’d lied about fucking you, when he’d proclaimed you were no different from any other Pogue slut who’d spread her legs for him. All with a straight face like some type of robot, and you’d cried and run, leaving your books on the ground behind you.
And he’d wanted to run after you. He hates to admit it, but there was a part of him that wanted to chase after you, gather you in his arms and wipe your tears and tell you you’d heard wrong, that he didn’t mean any of it. That he’d just acted up in front of his friends for some stupid reason or the other. That he was sorry.
But he hadn’t. Because he was Rafe fucking Cameron and he never ran after anyone. Especially not a Pogue.
He had picked up your books, though. Once everyone was done laughing at the whole ridiculous spectacle and moved on, he’d grabbed your discarded books from the floor. A fat textbook and your cute binder with all the flower stickers and shit. Your name spelled out in swirly cursive pink pen on the front. So fucking cute, it made his insides hurt. Why the fuck did you have that effect on him?
“Is that your girlfriend?” One of the girls asks, looking at your name on his phone screen.
“You’re not getting paid to talk,” he growls, pushing her head down to his crotch. And he pretends it’s you, of course he pretends it’s you. With your pretty lips wrapped around his cock, crying and choking because he’s so big and you’ve never sucked cock before. And he’d coax you gently, stroke your hair back and tap your cheek condescendingly, tell you what a good girl you are for taking him like this. So brave and pretty, his good little girl. And you’d cry and cry, looking up at him with scared, devoted eyes…
He kicks the girls out the moment he’s finished with them. Tucks the cash into their underwear and sends them packing without another word. One of Ward’s friends had a high-end escort service. Rafe never really felt the need to indulge in it before, since he didn’t really have a problem hooking up with girls. But he’d been on edge and wanted a quiet distraction, a quick fix. It had not worked.
Rafe: Hey. I’m sorry about what happened the other day. I think we should talk.
His thumb hovers over the send button. He wonders if he’d be able to sweet-talk you into forgiving him. Because yes, he wants you to forgive him. He wants you to be his in every way possible, and to achieve that, he needs you to like him again. Fuck his friends and the stupid bet.
He sucks in his breath and presses down on send before he can stop himself. Waits one second, two, three, four, five. Heart lurches to his throat when an error message comes up:
Your message is unable to be delivered to the recipient.
White hot anger chokes him like a vice. You had blocked him. Fuck. Motherfucking shit.
Rafe’s always had issues with his anger. He couldn’t control it most times, and as a result he’d explode like a fucking volcano. He’d try to contain it, but the rage always found its way out. And he throws his phone across the room, where it crashes against the wall with a loud smack. How dare you fucking block him? How dare you? Who the motherfuck did you think you were?
Blindly, he searches his drawer for his coke. Hands shaking, he pours it out into a small heap and snorts it straight up, his heart already racing with an all-consuming rage. Fuck you for blocking him. Didn’t you know Rafe owned you? You were his property, and he had to have access to you whenever he wanted, however he wanted… He had to.
He makes a snap decision. Grabs your books and his keys, his actions fuelled by pure rage and drug-induced adrenaline. Stuffs his phone – now with a shattered screen – into his pocket and wipes any white residue from his nose. He was losing control of the situation. And that just wouldn’t do. He had to fix it. Now.
And Rafe wasn’t anything if not proactive.
Unfortunately, he runs into Ward on the way out.
“Rafe. We need to talk.”
“Not now, dad. I’ve got shit to deal with.”
Ward’s got a newspaper in his hands which he’s undoubtedly reading performatively, and he takes a moment before he folds it down on the kitchen island. “Shit to deal with, huh? Like trying to fuck every girl on the island?”
Rafe sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I’m not doing this right now.”
“I’ve got business partners, investors coming in and out of here. Doesn’t look great when there’s coked out hookers limping out of my son’s bedroom every other day.”
“Your business buddies all do the same shit, dad–”
“Yeah? Well I don’t give a fuck what they do. I’m talking about you. I’m trying to push a clean, family-man image here–”
Rafe snorts. Ward ignores him.
“You’re getting too old for this shit, Rafe. You’re graduating soon, then you’ll take over the family business. You need to get your shit together, find a nice girl and settle down.”
Rafe rolls his eyes. He knows what’s expected of him. Knows his father wants him married sooner rather than later. Probably to some spoilt kook princess that he wouldn’t give two fucks about, a marriage built on connections and maximising power for the Cameron business. He figures being married wouldn’t be much different from being single. He’d still sleep around with the Pogue girls like he always did. But his mind’s too occupied by other things to really focus on this redundant conversation with his father.
“Look, dad, I have to be somewhere right now, so…”
“Who was that one girl you had over the other day? In the cute dress?”
Rafe stops short, feeling like he’s been injected with a dark, poisonous, all-consuming dose of sudden, icy-cold jealousy that winds him from the inside out. “What?”
“I was looking over the security footage. You had her on the patio. Cute, innocent looking girl. Now someone like that would be much better for your image, Rafe.”
Rafe’s jaw tenses, his fists clenched to his sides. He doesn’t want to react in front of his father, but it’s hard. The mere mention of you by another man – even if it was just his fucking dad – was making his blood boil. Boil in a way it never had before. He feels like choking someone the fuck out. Nobody was allowed to look at you. Jesus fucking Christ, what the fuck had you done to him? Now he’s even more determined to fix things with you, have you safely under his wing again so he could protect you from the lecherous gazes of other men.
He leaves without another word.
He takes his motorbike. It’s his preferred method of transport anyways. Quicker, less attention drawn to him than when he’s in one of his big cars. And he deliberately leaves his helmet behind, needing to feel the air whip on his face. Maybe it would snap him out of whatever crazed spell you’d put him under. He feels like ripping his fucking hair out – how dare you fucking block him? He was your only friend.
Rafe’s feeling no less crazy when he finally pulls up to your street. If anything, he’s even more incensed. His girl. His property. And he’d lost you? All because of some stupid shit he’d said to his dumb idiot fucking friend group? Fuck them – it was all their fault for making up that bet. All their fault for badgering him for private pictures of you. Fuck them.
He’s still reeling with rage when he knocks harshly on your front door. Which is why he’s caught off guard when someone opens it immediately.
At first, he thinks it’s you. No, this woman looks older. Not much older, though. It’s your mother.
“Is everything alright? Can I help you?”
He forces himself to calm down, running a hand through his hair to get it out of his face. Switches on the charm, smiles down at the woman who gazes at him with an unreadable expression.
“Hi. I’m Y/N’s friend from school. Is she at home?”
Your mother blinks, doing that thing that he knows people from The Cut do. Takes in his expensive clothes, the Rolex on his wrist, his signet ring that gleams in the afternoon sunlight. People like her looked at him often with clear disdain simply because of his family’s wealth and where he came from. It was a good thing Rafe did not care much for what a Pogue thought about him.
He tries again when she doesn’t immediately respond; “I’m very sorry to show up unannounced, ma’am. She left her books on campus and I thought I’d return them.”
Your mother clears her throat, “I’m sorry, she’s not at home right now. But you can give her books to me.”
Rafe hesitates, not wanting to give up your things just yet. “Where is she? When will she be back?”
“Who are you?”
He tells her his name, watching as her eyes widen slightly. That was the usual reaction he got. The Cameron name was well known in Kildare. His dad’s company – soon to be his – was global, but notoriously well known around the Outer Banks.
“Thank you for bringing my daughter’s things back, Mr. Cameron.” There’s an air of formality in her tone as she takes your books.
“That’s okay. When did you say she’d be back?”
There’s a long pause.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea for her to be seeing you.”
It takes him aback, the frank way in which your mother speaks. He feels shock, and then a wave of anger.
“Well, I think that’s up to her, isn’t it?”
Your mother’s jaw twitches, and she steps back slightly, inching the door closed as if shutting him out. He gets the message but does not care.
“Look. My daughter hasn’t been the same for the last few days and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out it’s because she got involved with the likes of you.” She sounds cold, distant, almost resigned. “I don’t know you personally, Mr. Cameron, but I know people like you. And I know my daughter is sweet and unassuming. So please, leave her alone.”
It takes everything in him not to lose it. He knows it’s best not to get into it with your mother of all people, and yet he hates when people assume shit about him. Nobody knew him, least of all some nobody-Pogue from the Cut. He wasn’t like Topper and them, but he couldn’t expect this woman to know that.
He forces a smile, “Just returning her books, ma’am. I’m her only friend.”
“As I said, thank you for bringing her things back.” She sniffs, closing the door till it’s only open a crack, “But please stay away from my daughter. It would be best for you both.”
The door slams in his face.
He has to physically retreat before he kicks your fucking door in. Her fucking audacity. As if she didn’t fully understand who the fuck he was. One meeting and a deal is all it would take for Cameron Development to buy this fucking dump of a street where your house was situated in. He’d like to see her slam her fucking door on his face then.
He does that thing his therapist taught him, breathes in and out but it doesn’t calm him down in the slightest. Instead, he clenches his fists by his side, his blunt nails digging into his palms till he knows he’s drawn blood.
Before he really knows what’s doing, he makes his way to the back of your house where he knows your bedroom window is. But the curtains are drawn. Fuck. Were you actually not at home? Or was your mother lying? He bets she was lying. If only he could get to you–
“What are you doing here?”
Rafe whips around, heart lurching to his fucking throat because it’s you. Standing right there in front of him. And he almost can’t believe it. Out here in this seedy little street on the Cut, dressed in a pair of tiny denim shorts and a tank top. Face devoid of any emotion, stripped of any kind of makeup. Lips downturned and pouty, eyes narrowed yet still so big and pretty.
For a moment, you take his breath away.
“Go away, Rafe.”
Promptly, you turn on your heel. Well, you turn in your scuffed white converse, speed walking away from him faster than he can even wrap his head around what’s happening. You’ve got your earphones in, your arms crossed in front of your chest, going as fast as your legs can carry you. Down this dangerous fucking street, dressed like that.
Rafe catches up to you in two strides.
“Wait, I came to talk to you–”
“There’s nothing left to say… LET GO OF ME!”
You scream it so loud, he drops your hand like a hot coal. Taken aback by your fire, but he recovers quickly. Walks around till he’s facing you and blocking your path. Tries to catch your gaze but you look anywhere but at him. Your chest rises and falls, your lips pressed into a thin line as if your emotions are getting the better of you. He’s always seen you as pristine and perfect, but now you’re dishevelled, upset, won’t even look at him. Still so fucking beautiful though.
“I didn’t mean all those things I said, okay?”
You swallow harshly, “I’m not stupid, Rafe.”
“It’s my fuckin’ friends – hey, listen, it was my friends, okay?! They kept goading me about you. I had to say something to get them off my back.”
Finally, you meet his eyes. A look of incredulity on your face.
“You… You told everyone that you slept with me, Rafe! You lied! About everything!”
He sighs impatiently, running his hands through his hair, “I know, fuck, I know I lied, okay? But they kept asking. You need to understand that I only said those things to protect you.”
Silence. You just stare at him. He thinks he sees something break behind your eyes. That same look you’d had on your face when he’d locked eyes with you the last time he’d seen you on the campus courtyard. As if you’re looking at a stranger, and he hates it.
“I had to protect you, okay?” He repeats, trying to ignore how hollow and wooden his words sound, “they all want to sleep with you. I had to tell them I had, so that they knew that they couldn’t–”
You shake your head slowly, “Y-You can’t even accept responsibility for what you did…”
“Fuck, this is me accepting responsibility, don’t you get it?!”
He lowers his voice when you flinch. But he’s so fucking desperate, wants you to understand what he’s trying to say although even he doesn’t understand it. He feels fucking insane right now, and you’re seeing it all unfold first hand. “Look, I didn’t mean any of it. You need to understand that. Hey, hey don’t walk away from me!”
“I feel disgusting, Rafe!” You burst out. And he really sees you then, sees your face crumple up and yet you try to keep this false bravado, chin up, eyes blazing. “I-I trusted you. I did things with you that I… that I’ve never done before. And to think this whole time, it was all just a joke for you. I told you about my dad, and I told you all those things because this whole time I thought you genuinely wanted to be friends, and I trusted you.”
“You can still trust me–”
“No, I can’t! You were lying the whole time.” You swallow again, and through your glasses, he can see the tears welling in your eyes, “I was nothing more than a bet for you. And I… I can’t believe I fell for it, that I let you…”
Your voice breaks, and you wrap your arms around yourself, almost like you’re hiding your body from him. Like you can’t bear the thought of him even looking at you now, can’t bear the thought that you ever let him look at you. Makes him feel like a goddamned monster.
“I wish I’d never called you that night,” you whisper, “I wish I’d never let you see me like that. I wish I could… I wish…”
“You don’t mean that,” he reaches out, doesn’t know why but just wants to hold your arm, but stops himself when you flinch once more. You’re far away, lost in your own broken thoughts, and yet you step back when he tries to touch you. Like you’re scared of him, and it kills him, because you were the only one who wasn’t.
“I feel dirty,” you say, voice thick yet pitiful, “I-I feel like… Like I can’t get myself clean no matter how hard I try.”
It’s Rafe’s turn to swallow, and he’s got a huge lump in his throat, and it makes it harder for him to speak. Like there’s a boulder on top of his heart, weighing it down to the fucking pits of his stomach. Guilt and frustration like flames licking and growing inside him.
“You’re not dirty,” he says softly, wanting, willing you to look at him but you don’t. And he wants you to say something, anything. But you don’t. Like you’re done. And he can’t have that, he fucking can’t. The control is slipping out from under his fingertips, and it’s an all-consuming feeling that he hates.
“I like you,” he tries again, but he’s never been good with his fucking words. His mind’s screaming ten different things for him to say, brain feels like it’s about to explode with frustration because he knows no matter what he says, it won’t be the right thing. How could it be? When he’d done what he’d done and there was no way around it? “I never lied about that. It started out as a bet but I always liked you.”
“You don’t speak about someone like that if you like them.” You look defiant and deflated all at once, angry yet upset, those fucking lips of yours downturned in this crestfallen way that hits him straight in the chest. “I hate myself for being so stupid. Trusting you when all this time, you were probably just laughing behind my back, thinking I was beneath you because I’m just a Pogue.”
“I wasn’t.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Jesus fucking Christ, why can’t you just understand that I’m telling the goddamned truth?!”
He doesn’t mean to raise his voice. It just happens. It happens a lot with him, and he regrets it instantly when he sees your face morph in fear. Again, you flinch away from him, and he wishes to God you’d stop doing that. Stop being afraid of him because couldn’t you fucking see how insane you made him?
“S-Stay away from me,” you back away towards your house.
“Wait! Shit, I’m sorry, I– hey! Come back! Please, come back!”
You ignore him. Don’t even look back. In fact, you break into a run, as if you can’t stand being near him. And he can tell you’re crying in earnest now, with how your hands reach up and snatch your glasses off your face to blindly wipe away your tears. He calls out again, but his voice is lost in the wind. Fists clench to his sides again, and he hates how helpless he feels. The control he had, it’s dissipated like a cloud of fucking smoke and he hates it.
“Fine! Don’t fuckin’ listen!” He wants to punch something. The frustration of being unable to explain himself is slowly morphing into rage like how it often did. And he doesn’t know what to fucking do, and he’s trying to control his breathing, and he’s itching for a line, anything that’ll make him stop feeling whatever it is he’s feeling right now. “You think I can’t walk away from this shit too? Well, fuck you! I’m done too.”
Your front door slams shut. You don’t even look back once.
***
It’s a whole week before Rafe sees you on campus again. And in those seven days, he’s convinced himself that he doesn’t care. That you didn’t matter. That this was it. Whatever the fuck he’d thought he’d felt for you was clearly not real. And it never had been. He was just a fucking idiot who’d had a lapse in his judgement. Let a stupid Pogue fuck around with his feelings. Never again. Never fucking again.
And yet his heart skips a beat when he sees you. It’s been a whole week of you not showing up to classes, and a part of him had thought you’d transferred out. But there you are, bright and early on a fucking Monday morning. Books and binder clutched to your chest. In a blue top and matching skirt, looking every bit as cute as you always did.
For some reason, he’d half expected you to show up sad and forlorn, in a big hoodie or some other equally unflattering item that chicks wore when they felt depressed. Clearly not.
Rafe himself feels like shit and has all week. He’s got bags under his eyes and stubble he can’t be bothered to shave off. And he hates it, hates how he’s spent the past seven days at home, listlessly staring at his chat with you on his phone. Reading over your old messages again and again. Back when he still had control over what you thought of him. He also keeps staring at the pictures he took of you. He knows he should delete them but he can’t. You were his after all. He had every right to have those pictures on his phone. And you were so fucking hot…
“Look, it’s your little girlfriend,” Kelce snickers, and his entire group turn their heads in your direction. You’re trying your best not to make eye contact, quickening your pace as you speed-walk across the field.
It takes everything in him to keep his cool. “Change the fucking subject, man. If you know what’s best for you.”
They all straighten up, cough, look away. Like fucking clockwork robots responding to their puppet-master. They’d calmed down about the whole debacle, stopped begging for the pictures of you after Rafe had made it clear he wasn’t going to show them. Now, he just wanted to move on. Forget about it all. Pretend like he didn’t know you, just like he did with every other girl he fucked.
It was difficult, though. When you looked so fucking beautiful.
Rafe can’t help but try to meet your gaze, but you don’t look at him even once. And it incenses him. He knows he’s supposed to forget about you, discard and move on like he did with all the other girls he’d been with. And yet…
“Hey man, did you hear what I said? What do you think?”
Rafe blinks, forcibly peeling his eyes away, and trying his best to suppress the wild, innate desire to follow you, keep tabs on you, make sure he knows what you’re doing at all times.
Topper waves his hand in front of his face, “Rafe?”
His eyes narrow in irritation, “What?”
“The party. Saturday night. It’s at this abandoned beach house in the Cut. I’m pretty sure Sarah’s gonna be there, and–”
“No.”
Topper sighs, “I mean, I think you should go, man. There’ll be plenty of other Pogue girls there if you’re looking to hook up.”
The thought of that makes him sick.
“I’m not going to some Pogue-infested crack house on the Cut, Topper.”
“But I think the best way for you to get over her is to find someone else–”
“Get it through your thick fucking skull,” Rafe grabs him by the collar, a sudden rage coursing through his veins and he can’t even pinpoint why, “I’m not trying to get over shit, okay? There’s nothing to get over. Don’t fuckin’ project your shit on me just ‘cause you can’t get over my bitch of a sister.”
“Jesus Christ, alright!” Topper shakes him off, backing away and raising his hands in the air, “You shouldn’t speak about Sarah like that.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
Everyone’s staring at him again. Like he’s the crazy one or some shit like that. Fuck them all. His nose twitches, and he wishes he’d brought some coke with him. But the last time he’d been caught on campus with drugs, Ward had to pay a shit ton of money for the faculty to forget it ever happened. Doesn’t help now, when he feels like he’s gonna implode. A part of him wishes he could go to you, because you’d make him feel calm and in control again. But that isn’t an option, and so he tries to control his breathing. He can’t.
Fuck.
Get you back or forget about you. Something had to give.
***
It’s on impulse, really. He doesn’t even remember doing it till it’s done. It’s after he’s spent a good twenty minutes lying on his bed and staring at your pictures on his phone. Fuck, you were so sweet and hot. He still remembers it, waking up next to you on your tiny pink bed, an assorted range of your stuffed animals surrounding you both. You, naked and in his arms. Right where you belonged. Sucking his thumb like you were his baby, and you trusted him with everything.
Before he realises what he’s doing, he orders a Chanel bag. A light pink one with a gold chain. Puts in your address so it can be delivered straight to you. He’d grown up with two sisters and a stepmother obsessed with shopping and designer labels, so he has an idea of what women like. And he’s used to girls from Figure 8, who’s love language was gifts and money. You were different, though, but he still can’t help himself.
He imagines you dripping from head to toe in gifts bought by him. Cute little designer dresses, all in pink or light blue or yellow or some pretty girly colour like that. Fur jackets and dainty, expensive jewellery. And he’d give you an allowance, hell he’d make you save his credit card details on your phone. And he’d pay for you to get your nails done, and your toes too. Pretty, gleaming white polished toes.
He’s jacking off now, picturing it so clearly in his head. He’d move you into his house, and you’d look at him with glowing eyes, so thankful that he’d saved you from the poverty you’d been so used to. And you’d be his little princess, draped in the gifts he’d shower you with. And in return, you’d let him do anything to you. Because you were his. Only ever his.
And he’d push you onto his bed, press your legs up against his chest while he fucked you so good and hard. Came inside you, filled you up till the brim, till his cum was leaking out of you. And even then, he’d push it back inside, stuff you so fucking full of him that you wouldn’t know how to act, and you’d cry and be confused. You’d beg him not to, but he’d do it anyways because he owned you. And if he knocked you up? Fuck, he wouldn’t even care because it would mean you’d be bound to him forever.
He cums at that last thought, the visual of it too fucking hot for him to even fully wrap his head around. High off the fact he’s bought something for you. It gives him a fucking power trip like no other. You were his. Completely and utterly his. He knows he’s supposed to forget about you but fuck it. Maybe, just maybe, he could buy his way back into your life.
It’s only two days later when he’s leaving his car in the campus parking lot that he feels a little tap on his shoulder.
“You can’t do things like this.”
It’s you. Looking all tiny and cute as ever, a fiery look on your face that’s about as intimidating as one of your stuffed animals. Your face that’s half hidden by the big Chanel box you’re carrying in your arms.
“Hello to you too.”
“You… You need to take this back.”
Rafe squints down at you, running a hand through his hair and trying to act nonchalant, “It’s rude to return gifts.”
You look genuinely upset. Distraught, even. It confuses him.
“I don’t want any gifts from you, Rafe. Why can’t you understand that I want nothing to do with you?”
Didn’t he know this would happen? He knew you weren’t materialistic like the girls he was used to. And yet he’d still done it. But at least you were speaking to him again.
“I thought you should have it,” he says. “I was thinking about you.”
“Stop. Don’t.” You swallow harshly, your chest rising up and down as if you have so much you want to say. “Please. Just take this back and leave me alone.”
I CAN’T! He wants to scream, but he knows he can’t risk scaring you away again.
“Take it as an apology,” he says, take a step closer to you except you instantly take a step back, a fearful look in your eye that he hates. “Look, I know I fucked up, okay? Let me make it up to you.”
“You’re unbelievable,” you whisper, “You lied, and now everyone thinks that we…” You gulp, pressing your lips together and trying to push the box into his arms, “My mom saw the bag. She-She thinks I’m sleeping with you in exchange for gifts.”
Rafe blinks, “Why would she think that?”
You gape at him incredulously, and he can’t help but think how cute and hot you look. All weepy and indignant, acting all upset but all it does is get him hard. The Chanel box is almost as big as you, and it makes you look even tinier. And you’re wearing this little buttercup yellow top trimmed with white lace. So fucking hot. He wants to grab you and push you into the backseat of his car. Lock the doors and have his way with you. Fuck you dumb, fuck that indignance straight out of you, till all you can say is thank you daddy for the pretty purse and the orgasm while you cuddle and cry into his chest.
When he doesn’t take the box back, you huff and drop it at his feet.
“I…I don’t care about expensive gifts, Rafe. And if you think you can just throw money at me and expect things to go back to how they were, then I guess we never really knew each other to begin with.”
Rafe sighs, reaches out to grab your wrist, “Look, wait–”
“D-Don’t touch me!”
There it is again. Don’t touch me. It’s the second time you’ve said that to him, and he watches as you flinch away from him again. Like you’re scared. Of him. And he fucking hates it so much, it’s like he can’t breathe.
“Wait–”
You scurry away without looking back at him even once. When all he can do is look at you. Like you’re a drug and he’s an addict. He can’t rip his gaze away. He feels so out of control of the situation, it makes his palms itch and his head hurt. He feels like throwing up. Like fucking punching someone. He wishes you’d just understand him, and he hates himself for not being able to explain himself to you. He’s so fucking obsessed with you, it’s insane.
How the fuck was he supposed to get over you?
***
His eyes follow you wherever you go. He memorises your schedule, your classes, everything. He doesn’t mean to, exactly. It just kind of happens. It’s like he has this innate need to know exactly where you are and what you’re doing. You’re his property after all, so it was only natural.
And Rafe watches you all the time. Whenever he can. He knows it’s unhealthy as shit, this growing obsession he has with you. But he’s been like this as long as he can remember. Hyper focusing on one thing until it consumed him completely. His dad’s approval. Drugs. Alcohol. You.
And you’re putting on a brave front, walking around campus acting like everything between you and him never even happened. But Rafe likes to think he knows you, despite only interacting with you for a week. He knows it’s all an act, and on the inside you’re feeling just as shitty as he is. He watches you smile, nod, hang around the outskirts of some Pogue girl group who barely pays you any attention. And it’s sick of him, but he likes how you don’t have any true friends. All you had was him, and he was hell bent on getting you back no matter what it took.
Which is why he feels this cold, numbing feeling of pure rage when he sees you leaving your last class of the day walking side-by-side next to a boy. Talking to him. Laughing with him.
Rafe’s hands curl into fists.
He doesn’t want you speaking to any other man. Even what looks to be some sorry ass Pogue nerd who’s in your class. No, you were his. You weren’t allowed to even look at another man unless he approved of it. What the fuck could this clown give you that Rafe couldn’t? Nothing. What the fuck.
He waits till you part ways with the boy and make your way out of the building. That’s when he grabs him by the shirt and slams him into a locker, not giving a fuck who sees.
“What the fuck?!” The boy struggles, but it’s extremely easy to overpower him. Rafe’s used to being bigger than most people.
“Shut the fuck up, Pogue. I just want to talk.” Rafe shoots him a wooden ass smile, although it’s taking everything in him not to punch the shit out of this fucking guy. As quickly as he’d grabbed him, he lets him go, straightening him up and smoothening his shirt while the boy stares at him like he’s insane. He’s used to that too.
“Why were you speaking to her?” He asks softly, keeping his tone cold and calculated.
“I don’t know what you’re taking about– OUCH!”
Rafe slams him against the metal lockers again before smirking, “Try again.”
The Pogue scrunches his eyes shut for a second before exhaling loudly through his nose. When he speaks, his voice shakes, “She’s in my class, man. We were put together for a project.”
“Mm,” Rafe’s thoughtful for a second, “You know who I am?”
“Y-Yes.”
“Who am I?”
When the kid doesn’t respond immediately, Rafe takes his head and slams it against the hard metal behind him. He cries out in pain, coughing with a stricken look on his face like he’s about to piss himself.
“You’re Rafe, OK?! R-Rafe Cameron! Please don’t hit me again!”
Rafe smiles, patting his cheek, “Relax, Pogue. You know who my friends are?”
“Yes!”
“Then you know you won’t speak to her again. You won’t even look at her again. Or else I’ll personally come after you. And my friends will too.”
“Look, I don’t know what this is about! We were just discussing our project, it’s worth a lot of credits–”
“You’ll do it yourself,” Rafe fixes the boy’s collar slowly, “You’re not going to say another word to her. If you do, I’ll know.”
The boy gulps, “O-Okay.”
Rafe smirks, patting the boy’s cheek again, “Good boy. And you let your pathetic little Pogue friends know too. She’s off limits to all of you. If any of you so much as look at her, I’ll personally break your fuckin’ legs myself. Got it?”
“Yes, I-I understand.”
Rafe lets the boy go before he pisses himself in fear. He knows the threat will be enough, and yet he still feels so fucking angry. Like he can’t believe you’ve found another man to talk to. He was supposed to be your only friend.
He hates this feeling of desperation that’s only heightening within him as the days go by. A pretty girl like you were bound to find someone else unless Rafe took action.
But what the fuck could he do?
***
He’s still stewing over it when he gets home that day. He’d threatened the kid but would it be enough to keep him away from you? Rafe bets that dumb fucking Pogue had requested to be partnered up with you, thought it’d be an easy way to get in your pants. He thinks back to you in all your cute, sexy outfits, flouncing around campus like you were a free piece of ass. Suddenly acutely aware of just how many men probably wanted to fuck you just like he did…
Over his dead fucking body.
In frustration, he whips out his phone and opens to your chat. He was still blocked. A wave of pure rage completely throttles him, and he throws his phone against his bedroom wall. Again. He’s surprised the damn screen doesn’t completely shatter from the impact.
You’re fucking losing it, he thinks to himself.
After snorting a few lines to calm his nerves (it doesn’t work) as well as downing half the bottle of Gray Goose that he’s got stashed under his bed, Rafe decides to pay you another visit.
“Rafe, we need to talk.”
He’s about to leave the house when Ward’s booming voice halts him. Jesus fucking Christ.
“Not now, Dad,” Rafe mumbles, running a hand through his hair in frustration.
“Yes, now. Come here, son.”
He resists the urge to roll his eyes, entering his father’s study. “Look, Dad. I need to be somewhere.”
“Yes, Rafe. You always need to be somewhere.” Ward is unperturbed as usual, stoic as he sits behind the grand desk of his study, barely even looking up from the papers he’s sifting through. “I don’t care where you’re going. But I need you to be here Sunday. I’ve got someone coming over to talk business.”
His ears perk up, “I get to sit in on a deal?”
“If you want. But he’s bringing his family over for brunch. He’s got a daughter your age whom I’d like for you to meet.”
Rafe loses interest immediately, not giving a fuck about whatever spoilt Kook slut his father was trying to set him up with this time. Instead, his mind wanders back to you again. He wonders what that slimy little dweeb in your class had said to you. Had you been impressed by him? Surely not, he couldn’t offer you what Rafe could. Why the fuck had you been talking to him? Laughing with him? God, he needs to see you now. Set the rules straight: you weren’t allowed to talk to any other man. He doesn’t give a shit if you’re mad at him, you’d still need to follow his rules, and–
“Are you listening to me, Rafe?”
“Mm.”
“I said it’s about time you settled down and got serious about your future. Cameron Development has always been a family-orientated business. There’s a certain image you need to build up and maintain, son.”
Ward drones on and on about “settling down” and “eventually starting a family” and some other bullshit along those lines. Rafe’s too busy thinking about you to listen. What if that stupid Pogue fuck didn’t listen to him? What if he was at your house right now? Using the excuse of “project work” to get close to you? In your bedroom? When the only one who’d been in your bedroom was Rafe, and he intended to keep it that way.
“Sure, Dad. Look, I’ll talk to you when I get back.”
He leaves, ignoring Ward shouting his name and calling him back. Usually, he’s pretty good with listening to his father but right now he couldn’t be fucked with it. He has bigger priorities to deal with.
And he knows he probably shouldn’t drive after he’s just inhaled half a bag of coke and chased it down with half a bottle of vodka. Which is why he takes his motorbike again, hoping the roads would be empty at this time of night.
He gets to your house in record time. He’s got the route memorised at this point.
He doesn’t bother with the front door. Knows if your mother answers, she’d probably call the cops on him or some shit like that. When really, she should be calling the cops on that dumb fucking pervert Pogue from your class.
He makes a beeline for your bedroom window at the back of the house. Luckily, your curtains aren’t drawn, and he can see inside. Your bed’s all made, pristine pink sheets with the same stupid stuffed animals arranged meticulously on your pillow. The memory of him on top of your naked body while you quivered underneath him is fast fading, which he hates. He can’t believe you still haven’t forgiven him. He’d give anything to have you look at him like that again, look at him with stars in your eyes as if he’s your saviour, your hero, your god.
“Leave me alone, okay?! Stop telling me what to do all the time!”
For a moment, Rafe thinks you’re talking to him. He steps back, allowing the sidewall to conceal him yet still having a perfect view through your window. You’ve got your back to him, dressed in this fucking insane pair of pink pyjama shorts that make your ass pop. You’ve got your hands on your hips, facing out your bedroom door.
“It’s that boy, isn’t it? Didn’t I warn you not to get mixed up with people like him?” Your mother’s voice.
“Why can’t you just trust me, mom? I’ve always done what you’ve asked, but it’s never good enough!”
You look so petulantly pretty, and it’s a side to you he’s never seen before. Sure, he’s seen you angry, hurt, upset. At him. But this is different. You seem… frustrated almost.
“You can’t afford to get distracted by boys who will just hurt you. You need to keep your head down and mind your own business.”
“That’s all I ever do!” You cry, stomping into your room and he gets a flash of your face, indignant and upset. “I just want to be normal, mom! I just want that normal college experience that everyone else talks about! And I want friends, I want freedom–”
“You’re too naïve.” Your mother appears in your doorway looking grim, “I don’t know what that boy did to you, but maybe now you’ll learn your lesson. Most people at that school are not your friends. You need to remember that, and be smart, and–”
“This isn’t about him!” You look helpless, as if you know whatever you’ll say won’t have any type of effect on your mother’s view. Rafe gets it, has that same problem with Ward. “I’m just so sick of being so good all the time. I hate that everyone thinks I’m so naïve, I-I wish I could show them I’m not.”
“You are.” Your mother says impassively. “And you will stay that way. I forbid you from talking to that boy or anyone like him.”
An incredulous pause, and then:
“JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!”
You slam your door shut and throw yourself on your bed, crying your little eyes out into your pillow. And admittedly, it touches him a little bit. How sweet and soft you look, crying like that with such abandon. Thinking no one’s watching you, thinking no one understands you. Well, Rafe does. And ironically enough, he feels like he’s the only one who could comfort you when you’re like this.
And, despite how sick it sounds, a part of him likes how you’ve fought with your mother. If anything, that distance would only make you more likely to fall back into Rafe’s arms. As long as he was patient and bided his time.
Patience, however, has never been his strong suit. But even in his drunk and high current state, he knows that making his presence known to you right now probably wouldn’t be the best idea. You look equal parts upset and angry, if he added himself to that mix you’d definitely bite his head off. He’d find it hot though, but nevertheless…
He leaves, feeling slightly better. He doesn’t even fully understand why. Maybe it’s because he’s seen you now, and you’re not doing project work with that worm from your class. In fact, he’s not on your mind at all, which was reassuring. Or maybe it’s because the fight with your mother meant you’d slowly come back to him.
Maybe.
***
“Hey Rafe, you spoken to your girl lately?” Topper asks him the following day on campus.
Rafe frowns, “Why are you asking me that?”
Topper shrugs, looking oblivious and gormless as usual, “I don’t know, just asking.”
“Well, don’t.” He doesn’t like when other men talk about you, including Topper. Lately, he’s gotten a lot more paranoid about who’s watching you, who wants to fuck you. Which, he guesses, is most likely every male at this college. Makes him even more eager to publicly claim you, make it be known that you weren’t up for grabs. Sure, his friends knew better than to talk to you or look at you, but he wanted everyone to know. And he didn’t have time to go around personally threatening any man who looked at you.
“Look, there she is now.”
Topper cleanly points at you. Rafe slaps the back of his head and shoots him a dirty look.
“Don’t fucking do that.”
You’re standing on the fringes of that one Pogue girl group that you hang around with sometimes, pretending like they’re your friends. The same ones you were standing with the first time he’d ever seen you. And that was weeks ago, and yet your friendship with them hasn’t seemed to progress. They still ignore you, and you still stand there like you know you don’t fit in, but you try your hardest anyways.
“So anyways, it’s gonna be at this abandoned beach house.”
“Yeah, and Brittney, it’s still OK if we all get ready at your place, right?”
Their stupid chatter doesn’t interest him. But then you speak up.
“What’s happening at the abandoned beach house?” You ask politely, like you’ve rehearsed the line a million times in your head to make sure it comes out right. Tinged with nervousness, afraid they might ignore you as if you hadn’t even spoken.
There’s silence for a beat or two, and Rafe doesn’t miss how some of the girls smirk and exchange looks before one of them answers.
“It’s a party. We would’ve told you but… well, we know you probably wouldn’t be allowed to go.”
“Oh.” Hurt clouds your features for a moment before you force a smile, “I-I’d be allowed to go.”
One of the girls raises an eyebrow, “Really? You? Have you ever even been to a party before?”
They all burst into giggles. You join in too, despite the fact they’re all laughing at you and he bets you know it.
“I have.” You say, sticking your chin up so cutely. And Rafe knows you’re lying through your teeth, and wonders why you feel the need to impress these stupid Pogue sluts who were clearly being mean to you because they were jealous. Couldn’t you see that?
“Okay, well, then you should come too,” one of the girls says, her lips quirking up into a smirk, “Although I doubt Rafe Cameron’s gonna be there, if that’s why you want to go.”
Your face morphs in disgust, “I…I… No, I don’t care about him. I should’ve listened to you guys, you were all right about him.”
Stupid Pogue whores, spreading lies about him to you as per usual.
“Well, we warned you.” One of the girls says, looking like she’s about to burst into a fit of laughter, “But I guess you got a bit overexcited, and thought he was giving you attention because he actually cared about you.”
“Which he doesn’t,” another one chimes in, “I mean, let’s make that clear.”
You giggle nervously, but he can tell you’re hurt.
“Yeah, I mean no offence to you, you’re just so sweet and innocent,” one girl pats you on the shoulder condescendingly, “He probably went for you because he knew you’d be an easy target.”
“No offence,” another one emphasises, although the smirks they all exchange say otherwise. “But yeah, you should totally come to the party on Saturday. We’ll take care of you.”
It’s when they’ve all dispersed and you’re on your own, that he corners you before he can stop himself.
“You shouldn’t go to that party.”
You stare up at him in disbelief, “Get away from me, Rafe.”
“It’s not the type of place for someone like you.”
“Someone like me,” you echo, a cloud of hurt crossing your features for a split second before you cover it up with a brave attempt at a glare, “Y-You don’t know me.”
“I do. And those girls are not your friends.”
“Stop.”
“I’m just trying to help you.”
“They didn’t lie to me and pretend to be my friend,” you hug your books close to your chest like they’re a fucking shield against him or something, “that was you.”
You say it so quietly, in such a resigned way that it kills him. And then you turn and leave, and again you don’t even look back once. And he can’t take his eyes off of you.
He doesn’t waste time in texting Topper after that.
Rafe: Send me the location of that party.
***
Rafe fucking hates the Cut. Disgusting place filled to the brim with disgusting people. For the life of him, he doesn’t understand how Sarah had chosen this life over Figure 8. The beach house – if it could even be called that – is all rotting wood and peeling floorboards. And yet the Pogues here were acting like it was some kind of VIP beach club and the party of the century. Fucking losers.
Topper is all smiles, though. Scanning the crowd for Sarah and her little Pogue group. Rafe’s already surveyed the whole sorry property for you, but you weren’t here. And a part of him is relieved, because maybe you’d taken his advice after all. He’d give it another fifteen minutes before leaving.
“You think Sarah decided not to come or something?” Topper asks, plopping down on the couch next to Rafe and handing him a beer.
“Do I look like I know what goes on in her head?”
“Jesus, man. It was just a question.”
“You both need to get a grip,” Kelce leans forward, a scantily clad girl already in his lap and a drink in his hand, “There’s too much fresh meat here for you to still be hung up on anyone else.”
“I’m not hung up on shit,” Rafe seethes.
“Prove it, bro.”
“Shut up before I knock you the fuck out.” He’s not in the fucking mood for this bullshit. The girls here all looked like typical Pogue sluts. Of course, you wouldn’t be here. Either you’d come to your senses, or he’d gotten through to you, or hell, your mother probably didn’t give you permission.
The music is loud and pulsating, making the creaking floorboards vibrate. This beach house might have been considered luxurious once upon a time – by 1960s standards probably – but now it lies in complete desolate disrepair. With way too many sweaty bodies filled to the brim inside. Rafe can’t believe he made the mistake of coming here.
He’s getting up to get the fuck out of here, and that’s when he spots you at the entrance.
And he almost doesn’t recognise you. Yet at the same time, it’s like his heart does because it does this weird fluttery shit the moment he sees you. Walking through the door with that Pogue girl group, except you stand out from them in so many ways, and he knows he’s not the only man in the room who notices.
You’ve got some smoky black shit on your eyes. That’s the first thing he sees, because you’ve never done that kind of makeup before, and you’re not wearing your glasses either. It looks… different. Still so fucking hot, though. Like black eyeshadow smeared over your eyes in the sluttiest way, and your cheeks tinted this sexy, flushed pink with glitter. Lips glossy and berry-coloured, lined with something darker – something else you’ve never done before.
And your dress. It makes him clench his beer so hard he’s surprised the bottle doesn’t shatter. It’s the sluttiest thing he’s ever fucking seen, and it’s almost like the sluttiness of it is amplified because you’re the one who’s wearing it. And he’d never pictured you dressing like this, he didn’t think you could or ever would. In his head, you were the perfect picture of innocence in your cute pastels and flowery prints.
But this. It’s like you’ve taken a dress from your mother’s closet and cut it as short as you possibly could, and he can tell that’s what you’ve most likely done, because the bottom looks slightly frayed, like it’s been cut last second with a pair of kitchen scissors. Barely reaches the bottom of your ass, and it makes him want to audibly growl. Make his way over to you and tug it the fuck down, and then drag you out of here for daring to look so slutty.
You look like you’re cosplaying as a goddamned whore.
But it’s still you. And he can’t tear his eyes away. Like you’re so fucking compelling, so different from any other girl in here. Like there’s a spotlight on you and just you, and you look so deliciously uncomfortable. Like you know you don’t belong here, like you know this dress and that makeup just isn’t you, and yet you smile and try and act confident. But he knows you. He knows you better than anyone here.
“Who the fuck is that?” Some guy Rafe doesn’t know whistles loudly, “Never seen her before.”
And suddenly, it’s all around him. The whole fucking room buzzing as if they all see you like how he sees you. Like every man in here has his eyes on you and solely you. Like you’re some type of fresh meat, a beautiful girl who looks innocent enough to manipulate into hooking up with, despite what you’re wearing.
He’d beat the shit out of anyone who tried.
For a moment, he just watches. Watches as you follow your little girlfriends into the kitchen. To the counter where all the booze is. He notes how your eyes widen, how you take a deep breath before smiling and accepting a drink some fucker offers you. And Rafe’s hands are shaking with rage.Half of him wants to cause a scene right the fuck now, let everyone know who the fuck it is you belong to.
But he knows it would be best if he kept his cool. Figured out what to do in a calm and calculated manner.
“Sarah’s still not here,” Topper’s whining snaps him out of his rageful thoughts.
Kelce groans, “Man, stop talking about Sarah for just two seconds. There’s so many other options here, you know how easy these Pogue sluts are.” He snickers, “Rafe definitely knows.”
“Shut up.” Rafe says warningly, his eyes still locked on you.
“Bro, just get on top of another one to get over the first one. They’re all the same anyways–”
“Shut the fuck up, there’s nothing for me to get over.” He doesn’t know how many times he has to tell his friends that.
Kelce shrugs, “If you say so.”
He knew so. And yet, it doesn’t stop him from making his way over to you, pushing past the crowd and not missing how he’s definitely not the only one staring at you right now.
“That’s some dress.”
He comes up behind you, and you jump despite him making a conscious effort not to touch you. Your eyes widen, but he thinks he detects a brief flicker of relief, as if you’re happy to see a familiar face.
“R-Rafe, what are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same question.”
“I came with my friends.” You gesture loosely, but it’s clear as day your little girl group has already dispersed without a trace, all but throwing you to the wolves. “Uh, I think they went to the bathroom or something.”
Rafe snorts, but the look on your face pulls at something inside of him, makes him want to just grab your hand and take you back home and keep you happy in a way he knows only he could. If you’d let him. But then it’s like he can’t stop himself:
“Well, homeschool, I barely recognised you in this little outfit. Maybe your friends don’t either.”
You blink up at him with black-rimmed eyes, and he sees a flash of hurt glimmer within them. And he wishes he hadn’t said it, sees how you shrink in within yourself, step back and cross your arms over your chest protectively. Tug your dress down except it’s so short it didn’t even matter.
“Homeschool,” you repeat softly “I used to think you called me that as like a cute nickname. Now I know you were just making fun of me.”
“I’m not. I wasn’t. Look, I–”
“Please, just leave me alone.” You try to push past him.
“I’m surprised you were allowed out of the house in that. You’re a walking target here with a dress that short,” He moves to block your path.
“Well, it’s a good thing I can take care of myself!”
“Yeah? How’re you gonna do that when you can’t even see? With all that black shit smeared all over your eyes?”
He wants to kick when he sees the hurt on your face. It’s like he’s so used to being the asshole version of himself that everyone knew him as, like it’s so easy to slip that mask back on now that things aren’t going his way. Fuck, why couldn’t you just give in and stop fighting him?
“I can take care of myself.” You repeat, although your voice wavers and your lower lip quivers.
“You can’t do shit dressed like that,” he runs a hand through his hair in frustration, “Look, trust me, this party sucks. Just let me take you home.”
You push past him without another word, and it fucking angers him so bad he wants to punch the goddamned wall. Instead, he watches you with dark eyes as you weave through the crowd. How naïve of you to think you could take care of yourself. When every single man in here was staring at you like you were some hot fucking commodity. Well, he was officially done trying to help you out.
“What’re you doing here, Rafe? Thought this was beneath your country club ass.”
Rafe watches you join back up with your girl group before forcibly turning away, “Barry. Tell me you got some shit on you right now.”
“Is that how you say hello to all your friends?” Barry grins, “You look like shit by the way.”
“You obviously do have some, otherwise you wouldn’t be here.”
“You sound like an addict, country club.”
Rafe rolls his eyes, looking beyond Barry’s shoulder at you sipping on another drink. Who’d given you this one? How many had you had? Jesus fucking Christ, was he going to keep tabs on you all night? He felt like he had to, and it’s putting him on edge.
“Who’re you lookin’ at?”
“None of your business,” Rafe snaps, “Just…Please, if you have anything on you.” He wants to snatch the drink from your hand, scold you for accepting drinks from anyone that wasn’t him. Instead, he watches helplessly as you sip it, scrunching up your nose all cutely because he bets it tastes awful. Like cheap liquor and dollar store soda.
“She’s cute,” Barry says.
“Shut up.”
“Her brothers would kick her ass if they knew she was here.”
That catches his attention, “You know her?”
“I know her brothers.” Barry snickers, patting him on the shoulder, “You might be a little out of your depth with this one, country club.”
Rafe doubts it. Pogues did not intimidate him in the slightest, and he doubts your brothers would be any different. Hell, they could be military-trained mercenaries and it wouldn’t stop him from making you his.
“I wasn’t out of my depth when I fucked her.” It comes out before he can stop himself. He just needs Barry to know. Hell, he needs everyone here to know. Even though it’s technically a lie, but he may as well have fucked you with how close he got.
Barry whistles lowly, “And yet here she is, clearly unclaimed.”
Rafe clenches his fists, eyes trained on you once more. He’d looked away for barely a minute and now you’re surrounded by men. Like a bunch of sorry ass losers vying for your attention, and it’s like you don’t even know how to react to it. You keep looking down, opening your phone, sipping your drink, pulling at your dress. Smiling awkwardly. Reaching up to adjust your glasses before realising you’re not wearing them. Fuck, you were so cute. So different from all the other girls and so fucking cute.
“Hey country club, do all the girls you fuck act like they don’t know you?”
“Don’t fuck around with me, man. I’m not in the mood.”
He runs a hand through his hair, watching like a hawk as you tug your dress down again. God, the way it hugged your ass was insane. You look so fucking hot, and despite the less than stellar interaction he’s just had with you, he still can’t help but think of fucking you. In that slutty fucking dress, but he’d push it up to your waist, rip your panties off and pocket them before jackhammering his cock inside you with such force just so you’d know never to wear something like that in public again. Maybe he’d drag you to his car, maybe one of the rooms upstairs. Or maybe right here in front of everyone while you cried because you were shy but he wouldn’t give a fuck because he’d be showing you who you belong to.
Maybe that’s what you wanted, maybe that’s why you’d dressed like this.
Barry pulls out a baggie, “You wanna push this to your preppy crowd?”
Rafe snatches it up quickly, “Sure, whatever.”
Just then, he sees you being cornered by some idiot who’s talking all animatedly with you, pushing you away from your friends, clearly trying to get you alone. Rafe sees red, pushing Barry aside and making a beeline for you.
“Hands off, asshole.” He seethes, physically putting himself between you and the guy.
The guy raises an eyebrow, “What are you, her bodyguard?”
“Meet me outside and I’ll show you exactly who the fuck I am.” Rafe grabs the guy’s shoulder when he tries to leave, “No, no, where you going, pussy? Come outside with me.”
“Rafe, stop! You’re acting insane.”
Your voice cuts through all the other noise, and the guy takes that moment to scurry away into the crowd like a little rat.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought, fuckin’ pussy ass bitch.” Rafe barks out a hollow laugh before turning back to you. “Are you okay?”
“Why did you do that, Rafe?!.”
He scoffs, “Are you kidding me? He had his hands all over you.”
“No, he didn’t! And even if he did, I could’ve handled it.”
Rafe pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. Were you deliberately being obtuse just to make him out to be the bad guy again?
“Just stick with your girlfriends. You shouldn’t be talking to these kinds of men anyways.”
You look up at him indignantly with engorged pupils, clearly already half tipsy when you’d barely had a drink or two, “Stop it. Please. You’re not my dad!”
That’s not what you were saying when I was in your bed, he wants to shoot back spitefully. Instead, he rolls his eyes, “I’m the only one here looking out for you.”
“And I’m telling you; I don’t need you to do that. I can look after myself so just leave me alone, okay?”
“Stop trying to be something you’re not,” Rafe hears himself say, gesturing loosely at your body, “This… This shit isn’t you.”
Again, hurt flashes across your face.
“You don’t know me, Rafe. You never did and you never will.”
You push past him and rejoin your girlfriends and whatever group of men they’re talking to. Making him look like a gormless fucking chump when he’s the one who was trying to save you. Well, fuck you too then.
That’s how he finds himself back with his friends, at a table snorting up line after line like it’s his fucking job. It’s a distraction really, from all the conflicting thoughts swimming around in his head. Fuck you, protect you, forget about you. You, you, you. He needs this escape. He needs to stop thinking completely.
“Some for me?” a girl sinks down on his lap, her cleavage right in his face. He feels numb to everything, barely even registers her. But nods anyways, pours out a neat line for her. She’s all over him after that, but it’s like a blur to him. The music, lights, this girl’s lips on his, his friends cheering him on. He bets this slut would let him fuck her right here on this couch in front of everyone. And what was stopping him?
She’s pressing kisses down his neck, her hands up his shirt when he opens his eyes almost on intuition. Looks straight across the room and locks gaze with you. The shock is frozen on your face for just a moment or two, before you quickly look away.
The mask was truly off now. You knew who he really was.
Forcibly, you turn away from him. And he wants to look away too, just fuck this girl to forget all about you. But then he sees you bump straight into the chest of someone else. Some stupid fucking punk ass Pogue, different from the other one. More intimidating, larger too. He grins at you, his hand pressing down on your lower back. And it plays like slow motion in front of Rafe’s eyes, and he feels like someone’s put his heart through a fucking shredder.
He pushes the girl off him, gets to his feet. The guy’s talking to you now, talking to you like he knows you. Rafe’s hands shake; he balls them into fists. Shoves his way through the crowd of bodies, keeping his eyes glued on you. The drugs in his system have made him a bit sluggish, but he can still make out the two of you, how the guy’s got you cornered against the wall now. He sees you laugh nervously, and the punk tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear.
That’s when Rafe sees him start moving you. Towards the stairs. And he sees your face twist in fear; sees you swallow and try to act brave. Sees you looking around for your friends but they’ve ditched you again. The guy’s gripping you tightly by the arm, no doubt sweet talking as he pulls you up the stairs. Rafe sees your chest rise and fall rapidly; sees you try and talk your way out of it. But he also knows how men think, knows how much stronger they are, and the guy keeps pushing you up the stairs.
Rafe feels like he’s a million miles away. By the time he gets to the stairs, the two of you are long gone. There’s this tightness in his chest, and it won’t go away. He pushes people out of the way, takes the stairs two at a time. Gets to the first-floor landing and grabs some fucker by the shirt.
“Where’d they go? The girl in the black dress and the guy?”
“What the hell!? I don’t know!”
He throws the guy aside, stumbles into the first door that opens. Empty. Then the second. Not them. Fuck.
He finds you behind the fourth or fifth door he throws open. And it’s almost like an out of body experience. He’s not sure he’s ever felt such visceral rage before. The guy’s got you up against the wall, trying to kiss you. His hands all over you. Your tiny fists trying to push him off, and for a split-second Rafe feels like his chest is about to explode.
He doesn’t think before he throws him off you.
“What the fuck, man?”
“Get out.”
The guy snorts, “How about you get out? We were in the middle of something.”
Rafe’s not in the mood to fuck around. He looks at you, sees you sniffle, readjust your dress. Your face is usually expressive, but he can’t read it now. And usually, beating up on Pogues like this guy is an amusing pastime for him, maybe even a hobby. There’s a certain satisfaction that comes with it, a certain rush of adrenaline. But one look at you, and he knows now isn’t the time for that.
“Get out. I won’t ask you again.”
The guy – all tattoos and burly chest – chuckles, tries to grab you again, “I ain’t leaving bro. Hell, you can stay too if you wanna watch.”
That’s when Rafe pulls his gun out.
You gasp. The guy stops short. Holds his hands up.
“Hey, c’mon man, it’s never that serious–”
“You don’t want me to ask again.” Rafe points the barrel straight at him. The coke’s coursing through his veins, pumping through his blood. He’s never entered the Cut without his gun, and in the state he’s in right now, he’d risk getting thrown in fucking jail because he can’t think of a reason why he shouldn’t shoot this fucking pervert right now.
“Okay, okay, I’m going.” The fucking pussy leaves quickly after that. Once he’s gone, Rafe tucks the gun into the back of his waistband. He feels completely calm in the moment. Eerily so, but he knows it’s that certain type of calm that only comes before a storm.
He locks eyes with you, and there’s a moment of absolute silence. All he can hear is your shallow breathing, short and rapid. Glistening eyes looking up at him in what he could only describe as fear. Or reverence. He can’t tell, and it bothers him.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He’s trying so hard to keep his voice level, but it almost shakes with anger. Anger at the situation, at what he’s just seen. Anger at that punk that he knows, he knows, he’s gonna take out on you.
You swallow, “I…I…”
“You realise what the fuck would’ve happened if I hadn’t been here?” He takes one step towards you, for once not giving a fuck when you flinch. “I know you’re innocent but you can’t be that fucking stupid.”
Hurt flashes across your face, “I could’ve taken care of myself–”
“You wouldn’t have been able to do shit.”
You shake your head, “Yes, I could! I can handle myself just fine, and my friends knew I was up here, they saw me, so they would’ve come–”
He stares, incredulous as it dawns on him just how naïve you actually were, “they’re not your fucking friends.”
“Neither are you!”
“I saved you.”
Your face crumples up like a piece of paper, your chest rising up and down. Like you’re trying your hardest not to burst into tears, “I’m not some naïve little girl who needs saving, Rafe.”
“Yeah? Is that what you were trying to prove tonight?”
“No! I wasn’t trying to prove anything, I just… I just…” your lower lip quivers, and yet you still will yourself not to cry, “I’m just… I’m not naïve, okay? I’m not some stupid little girl that men just... take advantage of.”
He runs his hand through his hair, “Do you even realise what you’re saying? He was going to take advantage of you.”
“I wouldn’t have let him!” Your eyes are wet with tears, and it’s smudging the black makeup, making it smear and run and you look so hauntingly beautiful like this, “Not how I let you.”
And there it was. It all came back down to Rafe. He was always the bad guy in everyone’s eyes, even yours. Even after he’d saved you. He was evil, through and through – isn’t that what he always knew deep down? Isn’t that what his father saw when he looked at him? And his stepmother? And Sarah? Even now, you look scared like a little fucking mouse. Scared of him, and not the fucker who’d just tried to force himself on you. It was always Rafe who was the villain in everyone’s story, no matter how hard he tried to protect them.
“I stopped.” Rafe steps closer, knowing you’ve got the wall behind you and nowhere to run, “I stopped when you asked me to. He wouldn’t have.”
“You lied about everything.”
He remains silent, not wanting to rehash this shit with you right now. Instead, he closes the gap between you both, pressing you against the wall. You push against his chest, but it’s ineffectual. He needs to touch you, lay claim on you. It’s like an innate, animalistic desire to mark his territory after that fucker’s had his hands all over you.
“G-Get away from me.”
“No.”
“Rafe. Don’t.”
You’d already made up your mind that he was the bad guy, no matter what he said or did. And it would be so easy to be the villain you clearly thought he was.
Gently, he tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear. You gulp, half-heartedly attempt to bat his hand away when it lands on your hip.
“He shouldn’t have touched you.”
“I could’ve gotten away–”
“Nobody else is allowed to touch you.” He says it quietly, but he knows you’ve heard him.
Your eyes widen, “R-Rafe–”
“Only me.”
His lips press against yours in a kiss so possessive, it almost knocks you off your feet. But he’s got you, holding you steady and pressing you against the wall with all his weight. And he’s dreamed of this moment, dreamed of kissing you again. And your lips are so soft, so perfect, exactly how he remembered. Yet all he can think of is making you forget that other man had ever even touched you. His tongue is in your mouth, claiming you like he’s swallowing you whole from the inside out. And he’s so much bigger than you, so much stronger that he doesn’t even notice or register if you’re trying to push him off. It’s ineffectual, irrelevant. He needs this. Needs you to know you’re his.
“Stop!” You finally manage to push him off you, and your lips already looked bruise from his kiss. Bruised and so fucking pretty. Another mark of him on you.
He’s staring at your lips when you slap him hard across the face.
Immediately, your face crumbles, like you’re horrified at what you’ve done.
“I-I’m sorry, I’m… I’m–”
You burst into tears. Like waterfalls flowing down your cheeks. You reach up to blindly wipe at your face, smearing your black eyeliner all over your eyes. And he just watches you, the sting of your ineffectual little slap already fading. Watches how you sob, how your whole body shakes. Watches as your wild eyes look somewhere beyond him. At the mirror in the corner side of the bedroom. Watches you stare at your reflection like you’re looking at a stranger.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you whisper like it’s a confession, but more to yourself than to him. “I-I don’t know who I am, I don’t… I don’t…”
In that moment, he sees something broken inside you. Something he’d never seen before. Maybe it wasn’t there before. Maybe it’s only here now. Maybe he was the one who’d broke you. The thought makes him sick to his fucking stomach.
Rafe hoists you up, slings you over his shoulder without another word. You pound against his back.
“No, no, let me go! Let me go!”
He ignores your cries. All he knows is that he needs to get you out of here. You didn’t belong in a place like this. You were too soft, too sweet to be corrupted. He had to save you again, even if he was the villain in your eyes.
He carries you out the bedroom, past the landing, down the stairs. Everyone stares; he doesn’t give a fuck. He weaves through the crowd of writhing bodies, the pulsating music drowning out your cries. One of his hands firmly holding your dress down over your ass while you wiggled and squirm against him.
He only puts you down when he’s got you outside in the back where his car’s parked. It’s a hot summer night, sticky and humid. The stars look huge, almost like they’re weighing down on his shoulders. And reflecting in your eyes, making them shine with indignance and that fierceness he’s only recently learnt you possess.
“Get in the car.”
Incredulously, you shake your head, “I’m going back to my friends.”
“Don’t fuck with me right now. Get in the car.”
You try to storm past him, but he’s already so much quicker than you. The copious amounts of coke he’s snorted tonight paired with the pure adrenaline and determination of wanting to get you out of here makes you no match for him. You, in your heels which you weren’t used to walking in, and that tiny, tight fucking dress. Fuck, he needed you out of here. Now.
Your lips press into a thin line, and your eyes look so big as you stare up at him pleadingly, “I can’t, Rafe. Please. I can’t go with you.”
His face softens, “I’m gonna take you home.”
“I don’t trust you.”
His jaw tenses. I FUCKING SAVED YOU! He wants to scream. Instead, his features grow stoic, the mask slipping back on.
“I don’t care if you don’t trust me. You’re not going back in there. You should’ve never gone to a party like this to begin with.”
“I can handle myself–”
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, don’t start with that again. You can’t handle shit, okay? I handled shit back there. God knows what would’ve happened to you if it weren’t for me.” He grabs your wrist, ignoring your sharp intake of breath and yanking you back towards his car. He opens the door, tries to push you inside.
It’s when you’re fighting against him that he realises how drunk you are. God knew how many cheap drinks you’d been given tonight, and you’d been polite enough to accept all of them. Probably thought drinking them would help you fit in better, socialise easier. And now your movements are sluggish, slow, erratic.
He easily throws you into the backseat of his car, child locking the doors so you don’t escape.
He half expects you to launch yourself at him the moment he gets into the driver’s seat. But surprisingly, you’ve gone quiet. Gathered yourself in the corner at the back, hugging your legs with your face buried between your knees as you sobbed to yourself.
And there are so many things he wants to say, now that he’s finally got you alone. But it’s like there’s something lodged in his throat, and he doesn’t know what to say or how to even speak. He’s angry, concerned, buzzing from everything that’s just happened. Silence ensues, with just the gentle hum of the car as he drives into the night.
He pulls up to the now familiar dirt road that is your street and unlocks the doors. Waits a handful of seconds, surprised you don’t immediately jump out of his car. Instead, he watches silently through the rearview mirror as you rummage drunkenly through your little purse.
“I, uh, I don’t have my keys.”
“What?”
“I must’ve dropped them at the party… your voice trails off before you clear your throat, “It’s okay, I’ll just–”
“Your mom can’t let you in?” Although Rafe bets your mother would have a fucking heart attack if she saw you being dropped off in his car.
You swallow, “She’s not at home. She’s… working.”
For the whole night? This was the second time your mother was away from home for the entire night. He wonders what exactly she does for work.
You sit up and open the door, jumping out of the car and immediately teetering in your heels. You were still very drunk, and it shows. Rafe sighs, getting out too.
“You got a spare key under the doormat or something?”
You hold on to the side of his car to regain your balance, blinking rapidly. Your pupils are so dilated, he can see his own reflection in them. And in that moment, it’s like all the frustration and anger he’s feeling at you for how stupid and naïve you’d been tonight, it’s it all dissipates because of how cute and lovely you look in the moonlight. Drunk and fumbling and innocent and away from that party.
“I… I think I’ll just camp out on the porch. The sun should rise soon…”
Rafe stares at you as if you’re deluded. It was only a little past midnight; the sun wasn’t going to rise for a while. And even if it was, there was no way he was leaving you out here in the open on this seedy little street on the Cut.
“Get back in the car.”
Of course, you choose now to be stubborn again, “N-No! I’ll be fine.”
“Yeah? I know the kind of people that crawl around out here at night. Get in the car.”
You stick your chin out, “Stop trying to help me, Rafe! I’ve lived here all my life, I know what I’m doing–”
He hauls you back into the car. It isn’t too hard, considering how much smaller you are than him. Weaker. Drunk, too. You try to fight against him again, but not too much. Like you know making a scene right now wouldn’t be the best thing to do.
“Where are we going?” You ask timidly once he’s revved the car back up and driven off your street.
“My house.”
You don’t say anything and for once, he’s glad.
*
Tannyhill looms big and shadowy in the moonlight. Rafe watches you gape drunkenly, probably drinking in how big it is just like you had the first time he’d brought you here. You’d remained quiet for most of the drive here, just staring sorrowfully down at your shoes. Once or twice, he’d caught your eye through the rearview mirror, but you’d looked away every time.
“Wait.” He orders before getting out of the car. He opens the door for you and hoists you up into his arms. He means to put you down on your feet, but decides to just carry you. And by some miracle, you let him. And he can’t make sense of this hot and cold behaviour, how all night you’ve been switching between two different characters. Loud, outspoken, angry, not letting him touch you, to then soft, docile, weepy and innocent.
“I’m scared,” you confess quietly, your pupils dark, glassy and shining in the moonlight. You’re just laying limply in his arms now, as he carries you down the cobblestone driveway of Tannyhill.
“You’re just drunk.”
“No I…” You twist your face to look up at him, and he feels it, so he meets your gaze, “I’m scared of you, Rafe.”
It hits him like a bullet, but he ignores it. Buries it down, deep down in the recesses of his mind where he buried all the other shit. Like his dad not loving him, like the memories of his mother. Buried deep down and abandoned, because he couldn’t deal with that shit. He can’t. You weren’t supposed to be afraid of him. He had saved you.
He doesn’t say anything, expects you to fall back into whatever drunk stupor you’ve been drifting in and out of.
“I didn’t know you had a gun.”
Hadn’t he known you were going to bring that up? He’s surprised it’s taken this long, but he can still remember the frozen shock and fear on your face when you’d seen him point his gun at that guy.
“You don’t know a lot of things.”
He waits for you to bring up the other things you’d seen him do tonight. All the drugs, or maybe the girl he’d been kissing in front of you. In fact, he half hopes you bring up the second part because it would show that you’d cared, that it had affected you.
But you don’t say anything else, just stare off into the distance. And yet you’re still allowing him to carry you, you’re not trying to get away from him despite being scared. He doesn’t want to cling to that, but a part of him does.
He’s somehow able to fish his keys out of his pocket and unlock the front doors, all while holding you steady with one arm. You’re just so small, and slot perfectly into him, like you were made for him. He’s glad it’s gone well past midnight; means he doesn’t have to deal with his family and their questions. Not that they’d even bother questioning him – they no longer cared enough to.
It’s when he’s carrying you up the marble staircase that you start struggling against him again.
“Not your bedroom–”
“Where the fuck else do you want me to take you? The couch?” Rose would damn near have a heart attack if she woke up to you sleeping on her precious antique furniture imported straight from Paris or wherever the fuck. Not that Rafe cared, but he’d rather have you in his room.
You keep protesting softly, but he takes you to his bedroom anyways. Closes the door and locks it. Places you gently on his bed. And he’s dreamt of this moment for a while, and would’ve savoured it had it been under different circumstances. But he feels a weird mix of leftover anger and a sort of bittersweet sadness. You didn’t want to be here at all. Like any feelings you may have developed for him in that one week had so easily been switched off, and yet he couldn’t switch anything off no matter how hard he tried.
“You should, uh, get some sleep,” he says, quickly turning away lest you think he’s trying to get into bed with you. Rummages through his closet, tosses you one of his shirts, “Here.”
“I’m okay, thank you.” You’ve pulled yourself up into a sitting position, legs hanging off the side of his king-sized bed. You look even smaller than usual, and you’re doing that thing again – hugging your arms protectively around yourself as if he’s some fucking predator who’s kidnapped you, instead of the guy who’d just saved you from sexual assault.
“Just put it on.”
“I’m fine in this.”
Rafe sighs, pacing the room for a second to get his thoughts straight. Then he makes a beeline for you, kneels down in front of you before thinking. Reaches out to touch your legs before he sees you flinch and pulls back.
“Look, I’m not gonna try anything, okay? I know I lied and manipulated you before, but I’m not doing that right now.”
You stare at him for a long few seconds before swallowing, “I can’t tell when someone’s lying.”
He nods, “I remember. And I told you I’d be straight up with you.”
“But you weren’t.”
He runs a hand through his hair in frustration, “I know, but I’m not doing that shit anymore now, okay? I’m not trying to hurt you so just put it on.”
Your dress looks uncomfortably tight now, the straps digging into your shoulders and the bottom riding up. Again, you tug it down, and bite your lip before sighing, accepting the soft shirt.
“O-Okay. But you need to turn around and close your eyes.”
He huffs, but he does it. Stares at the wall for a good ten seconds. Then fifteen. Twenty. Huffs again. “You done?”
He turns back around when you don’t respond, only to find you struggling with the zipper. The dress is so goddamned tight, it may as well have been painted on. And you’re drunk, can barely locate the zip to begin with, and it’s pathetic how you keep tugging at it. And so fucking cute.
“Stand still,” he orders gently, and by the grace of whatever the fuck, you obey for once. Breathing shallow as he comes up behind you, and then your breath hitches with a cute little squeak when he places a hand on your hip to steady you. Easily undoes your zipper, and he likes how he’s the one who’s done it. He likes taking care of you, wants to help you out of it and put his shirt on you himself.
But all too quickly, you pull away, holding the dress taut against your body. He rolls his eyes and turns around again, listens to you shuffle around as you change.
When he turns back the second time, his heart almost leaps up into his throat. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen something so pretty, so precious, so innocent. His shirt is huge on you; makes you look so small and cute. Eyes so big as they blink up at him, and you look so vulnerable. Like you were done playing the part of a whore for the night and you were yourself again.
He finds himself swallowing hard, “You look…”
“Don’t.” You cover yourself with your arms again. Words can’t explain how much he hates when you do that.
He clears his throat, eyes trailing down your bare legs. Somehow, you’ve managed to change out of your dress without even taking your shoes off. And now you’re standing there teetering in your heels, looking at him with those big eyes of yours.
“Sit.” He orders you again, gently pushing you down to the edge of his bed. Again, he kneels in front of you. His hand on your smooth calf, stroking down before he can stop himself. You squeak again, but this time you don’t stop him. He doesn’t know why sometimes you let him touch you, and other times you don’t. But he’s not one to question it.
Your heels have ribbons that criss-cross around your calves, and he works to untie them. Deliberately slowly. And it’s getting him so hard, despite everything, to be the one taking care of you like this. How you’d huffed and puffed and gone to this party, pretended to be an attention-seeking little slut, all for you to end up in his bedroom anyways.
“You really had to wear these?” He murmurs, although he’s secretly glad you wore such complicated shoes because you’re letting him help you take them off.
“I… I thought I looked pretty in them.”
He feels a growl emanate from somewhere in his throat, remembering all the men who’d been staring at you so brazenly tonight, “You do. That’s the problem.”
Silence. And then:
“Why do you care?” It comes out like a genuine question, rather than a spiteful remark, “I…I saw you kissing that other girl tonight.”
“That was nothing.”
“I see.”
He wants you to ask him more, maybe show that you’re jealous, that you wished he’d been kissing you instead. But you don’t.
“She came onto me,” he feels the need to explain, “and she didn’t mean anything to me.”
You nod, “Okay.”
It irritates him, how you’re not at all fazed. When every time he’d seen a man approach you at the party, he’d wanted to throttle them with his bare hands. As for the guy who’d taken you upstairs? He deserved to be shot. Point blank. Maybe the only reason Rafe hadn’t done it was because he didn’t want to traumatise you.
And yet… you don’t seem to care at all. Or maybe you’re too drunk to care. You look so fucking adorable, sitting on his bed in his shirt, letting him undo your heels for you like a good little girl.
“I didn’t mean anything to you either.” You say it so softly, he almost misses it.
Rafe flinches, “That’s not true.”
“But you said it. You said I was just another Pogue who spread her legs for you.”
“Yeah? Well, I say a lot of shit I don’t mean.” He slips your heel off, and he can’t help but stroke your dainty, bare foot before moving on to your other shoe.
“That’s what I’ve realised,” you stare somewhere beyond his shoulder, “Everyone keeps saying things they don’t mean. And I keep believing them.”
He glances up at you, “Who are you talking about?”
“My friends. They said they wanted to be friends with me, but they… they haven’t even asked if I’m okay.”
He almost snorts out loud, but stops himself just in time.
“And it’s not just them, or you, it’s everyone. Even this guy I was supposed to do my project with. I thought we were getting along fine, but now he won’t even look at me. He asked to join someone else’s group, so now I have to do it alone.” Your voice breaks, “I don’t even know what I did to make him hate me…”
Rafe clears his throat and looks away for a second, “You can’t count on everyone, baby.” The pet name just slips out naturally, but you don’t even notice.
“I know. I wish college came with a manual, because I keep messing up and trusting the wrong people.”
“You can trust me.”
“No, I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.” He takes his chance, sits up on the bed next to you and grabs your hand, and hurriedly keeps talking, “I know I fucked up but I saved you tonight. That should count for something.”
Your lower lip trembles as you look at your tiny hand in his much larger one, and yet you don’t pull away.
“Y-You confuse me so much, Rafe.”
He could say the same thing about you. But he doesn’t. Because he can’t do words and all that shit. He’s never been good at it and he’d just mess things up even more than he already has. He knows what he is good at. And he knows he shouldn’t do it. And yet...
Rafe presses his lips against yours. Softly. Cautiously. Yet with determination. You don’t respond, and it’s like he wants you to so bad. He can’t stand it. His hand goes up to cup your jaw, thumb gently stroking your cheek. He thinks he feels you sigh, or he could just be imagining it.
“Stop,” you beg against his lips, but you don’t push him away.
“Just let me,”
“Rafe, no–”
“Please.”
He doesn’t give you a chance to pull away. And he knows he shouldn’t, he knows he promised you he wouldn’t try anything tonight and he’s going back on his fucking word but he doesn’t care. He needs this. Needs this more than you know. More than he himself knows. Because kissing you feels like he’s been parched his whole life and you’re the only thing that can quench his goddamned thirst. He can’t let you go. He doesn’t know why but he just can’t.
He pulls you into his lap, and you squeak into his mouth, your little hands grabbing on to his shoulders and it feels so familiar. He increases the pace of the kiss, slowly slipping his tongue into your mouth, and you taste so fucking sweet. He’s missed this so much, despite how he’s only kissed you a handful of times before this but you fit so perfectly on him. Like you were made for him and him only. And he deserves this. He’d saved you.
“I can’t,” you whisper brokenly, “I can’t let you take advantage of me again.”
“I’m not,” he says between desperate kisses, “I promise you I’m not.”
“You-You’ll tell all your friends. And you’ll laugh like how you did before.”
He kisses down your jaw, your neck, your skin so sweet, “I won’t, baby.”
“You’re just using me. Y-You’ve probably made another bet.”
Why can’t he just say it? Why can’t he tell you that all he can ever think about anymore is you? That it makes him sick, the fact that he’d hurt you? That he’d do anything to take that stupid bet back, to get you to look at him how you used to. What the fuck was stopping him from saying it?
But he can’t, so he just keeps kissing you, and hopes you’ll accept it. Hopes you’ll get him, which was wishful thinking, because nobody got him. His hands curl into your hair, pressing you closer to him, and it feels visceral, it feels desperate. And yet, it almost feels unreal, like he’s kissing you on borrowed time, and it would be over soon and he wouldn’t get his fill.
Sure enough, you pull away, “Why are you doing this, Rafe?”
“Because I want to.” He tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear, “And I think you do too.”
You press your lips together, words coming out hushed and shaky, “No one would respect me if I went back to you, knowing how much you lied and everything you said about me.”
“Fuck what everyone else thinks.”
You slip off his lap, “I wouldn’t respect myself.”
He wills himself to say something, anything to reassure you. But nothing comes out. It’s like his mind is frozen, betraying him once again because he’s shitty with words and can’t think of the right thing to say. And it’s getting too much for him… Too emotional, too vulnerable. He can’t.
“You’re thinking about this too much,” he says finally, and his bedroom’s dark except for the dull lamplight, and you look so fucking pretty that he’s in awe.
You sniffle, “M-My mom said I’m not allowed to see you.”
He exhales, “And yet here you are.”
“Here I am,” you echo weakly. “She doesn’t even know I was at the party tonight. I snuck out.”
He’d figured as much, “She’s kept you in a cage for long enough, don’t you think?”
You shrug, but he can tell you’re mulling over what he’s said.
Rafe pulls you back into his lap, “I don’t care what your mom says. I don’t care what anyone says.” He pauses, the words I like you, I want you to be my girlfriend on the tip of his tongue. But he can’t be vulnerable like that, he just can’t, “You’re mine. And you need to understand that.”
“I don’t wanna be yours. I want to be my own person.”
“Shhh,” he kisses you again, “Remember how I said I’d take care of you? It’s because you’re someone who needs taking care of. Your mom’s coddled you all your life, so you have no idea how the real world works. That’s why you need someone like me.”
You swallow, looking up at him with those shining, imploring eyes. You’re so sweet and naive, you don’t even realise how much, “I want to figure out how to take care of myself.”
“But you can’t. You keep trusting the wrong people and getting yourself hurt.” The irony of his statement isn’t lost on him, but he hopes the alcohol in your system will make you ignore it.
“That’s what my mom says.”
“Forget about your mother. Let me take care of you. I’ll make all the tough decisions, you won’t even have to think about it.”
Rafe lays you down on his bed, right in the centre where he knows you won’t scurry away. He hovers on top of you, much like how he did in your tiny bedroom weeks ago. But this time, you’re in his territory. And he has complete control. And maybe, just maybe, you’re drunk enough to trust him again.
He grabs your hand, pressing his much bigger palm against yours, “Look how little you are. You really think you could’ve protected yourself tonight without me?”
You blink up at him with big, dark, sad eyes. Bite your lip like you’re unsure but he thinks it’s so sexy.
“Mm, that’s what I thought.” He strokes your hand, his thumb grazing his initials on your palm over and over again, “You’re so small and cute, and completely out of your depth. You need me.”
“N-No…”
“Yes.” He kisses the sensitive skin of your neck, his hands knotting into your hair. You whimper, but you lie there and let him do it. It’s because you want him too. He knows it. And he allows himself to imagine it again. You under his wing, quietly allowing him to make all your decisions for you. Chanel bag on your arm, a dozen more in your closet. All gifts from him, to let everyone know who exactly was taking care of you.
And there’d be no more parties, especially not in the Cut. He wouldn’t allow you to attend them because you were simply too naïve and sweet. He’d take you to drinks at the country club, or maybe to a game of golf. You’d sit pretty in his lap, like a cute little ornament. His little girlfriend that he’d rescued from poverty, his little doll, that he’d dote on and dress up. All his.
“I don’t want that, Rafe. Please stop.”
YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU WANT! He wants to scream. Sure, he’d wronged you but you were too fucking naïve to understand how he was your best bet right now. That he would take care of you, and no one would ever fuck with you again when you were under his wing, because he’d kill them.
“Just kiss me back,” he whispers against your lips, his hands itching to slip under his shirt you’re wearing. He kisses you again, hoping you sense his urgency, sense how badly he wants you.
“Please stop, I can’t let you, I can’t…”
Rafe huffs in frustration, a few choice words on the tip of his tongue. Stop being such a tease, or you owe me for tonight, or you wouldn’t have agreed to come to my house if you didn’t want this.
But he realises you’re the only girl in the world he doesn’t want to say those things to. He can’t say them, can’t bring himself to utter a single spiteful word despite the fact had it been anyone else, he wouldn’t have hesitated even for a second.
He’s about to pull away when:
“R-Rafe? I… I think I’m gonna…”
He draws back at your abrupt shift in tone. The room’s dark, but he can see you’ve suddenly gone a shade of green. Your chest heaves underneath him, your eyes widening. Realisation dawns on him in a millisecond and he scrambles off you. Pulls you upright, debating whether to point out the bathroom to you. That’s when your whole upper body lurches, your hand going to cover your mouth. Without another thought, he picks you up and carries you into his bathroom himself.
He barely gets you to the toilet in time before you start throwing up. Hunched over the toilet bowl, barely holding your hair back. Letting it all out. And he just stands there and watches, never having been in such a situation before.
“I’m sorry,” you sob drunkenly between heaves, “I’m so sorry, Rafe, this is so rude of me.”
Despite everything that had happened tonight, despite how mad you were at him, here you were apologising to him. It makes him feel it again, that weird feeling in his chest. It comes in waves so strong he’s almost knocked off his feet. Instead, he crouches down behind you, gently holds your hair back.
And it feels so alien, because Rafe hasn’t done this for anyone ever. He wasn’t some pussy ass bitch who went soft on the girls he dated. But this… you… it was different.
“It’s alright,” he hears himself say softly, stroking your hair and rubbing your back. And it almost feels like he’s no longer himself, like he’s someone else. Affection had always felt unnatural to him, like he was putting on an act any time he tried to show it. And so he never did. It was easier to just to have everyone be scared of him.
But this right here, sitting on the gleaming floor of his bathroom with you, it felt… it just felt like something. Something he can’t quite put his finger on, except he likes the feeling. And you look so sweet, so vulnerable. He feels almost a sense of pride, because he’s the one taking care of you right now.
You keep apologising. Even once you’re done throwing up, and he helps you to your feet. Takes you to the sink, lets you clean yourself up. Hell, a part of him wants to sit you down on the marble countertop and clean you up himself. But it seems too… intimate. And Rafe doesn’t really know how to be like that.
“I’m really, really sorry,” you hiccup once he places you back down on his bed. You make a move to get back up, “Just let me go clean it up, I can’t bear that I left your bathroom in such a state–”
“No, don’t.” Rafe gently pushes you back down, and you’re so little and cute and tipsy that you fall right back on your butt, “The maid will clean it tomorrow.”
You blink as if you don’t understand, “But it’s my mess.”
Rafe rubs his temple, “It’s her job. Now get back into bed.” He goes over to his mini-fridge, thanking his lucky stars there’s a bottle of water in there amongst all the beer and other bullshit. “Here.”
Obediently, you gulp the water down like a good girl before carefully setting the bottle on his bedside table. Your makeup’s almost all washed off now, face scrubbed clean and you look so innocent it makes his head hurt. Like there’s so much he wants to say to you but he can’t figure out how to get you to understand him.
He sighs, “You should get some sleep.”
“Where’re you gonna–?”
He nods at his leather armchair on the other end of the room. You look over and swallow.
“Oh, uh, I could sleep on the chair. It’s not right that you have to–”
“It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not. It’s your bed…”
Drunkenly, you try to get to your feet again. It’s amusing, and he gently pushes you back down a second time before grabbing the duvet cover and throwing it over you.
“Go to sleep,” he repeats, ignoring how his heart thrums and that feeling manifests again. That weird, bubbling feeling under the surface of his chest that seemed to appear every time you did something cute or enamouring or sweet. “I’ll drop you home in the morning.”
You’re too inebriated to argue any further, which he’s thankful for. His thoughts feel all jumbled up, like he can’t understand for the life of him how this is the second time he’s had you alone in a bedroom and he hasn’t fucked you. But now, he settles down on his armchair and watches you slowly make yourself comfortable on his sheets. Shuffle around a bit before tucking the covers till your chin.
It doesn’t take you long to knock out. And he just keeps watching you, how sweet you look, how perfectly you fit into his room, his house, his life. And he hates how he can’t completely read you – can’t tell how you feel because you didn’t want him to touch you and yet you’re sleeping on his bed, and not anyone else’s. How you kept saying you wanted to take care of yourself and yet you’d let him take you home tonight, let him change you and tuck you in. Take care of you.
Rafe decides you have no idea what you want. You’re too naïve. Which means it’s his job to teach you. Teach you that you belonged to him, and he wasn’t going to let you go.
He tries to sleep after that. He really does. But the armchair is fucking uncomfortable, and it’s his room. And he’d saved you tonight.
It doesn’t take him long to get back into bed next to you. Gently, he pulls the covers back over you both, his heart skipping a beat when you immediately cuddle into him. It only further affirms that you wanted this — you just don’t know it yet. He runs his hands up and down your body, from your waist, to your ribcage, to your arms. You mumble, shuffle around sleepily, and somehow end up with your head on his chest.
He kisses the top of your forehead, before allowing himself to fall asleep too.
***
It’s all too soon that he’s woken up to loud, incessant knocking. Rafe swears under his breath, rubbing his eyes and immediately checking his phone. Fuck. It was past noon. The sunlight streams in through the large windows, landing perfectly across your face. It scrunches cutely as the knocking continues, but you’re still asleep.
So fuckin’ pretty, he thinks as he gazes at you, all serene and adorable and still very much in his arms. Slowly, he detangles himself from you, sits on the edge of his bed. His phone’s filled up with texts he’d ignored from the night before.
Topper: Bro, are you okay? People are saying you tried to shoot someone.
Topper: Everyone saw you leaving with the homeschool girl.
Barry: You pull a gun on a guy??? You can’t fucking do that shit.
Barry: You don’t know how dangerous these people can be.
Barry: ??? You’re fucked.
If pulling guns on Pogues meant he was fucked, then Rafe would’ve been fucked a long time ago. But most Pogues were stupid and inept, and so he was not worried. In fact, he fucking dares that punk from yesterday to show his face now. Rafe would murder him for real, and he wouldn’t even need a fucking gun.
The knocking increases, growing louder and more rapid. Rafe swears again, glancing back at you. You shuffle and turn on your side, lips all pouty as you cuddle into his pillow.
He makes his way over to the door, unlocking it only to see Ward staring back at him in disbelief.
“Don’t tell me you’re just waking up now.”
Rafe yawns, but straightens up at the same time, “I was out late.”
Ward blinks, does that think where he exhales loudly through his nose. He does that whenever he feels disappointed, which was all the time whenever Rafe was around him.
“Everyone’s waiting downstairs for you, Rafe.”
Rafe blinks before it dawns on him. The brunch. The business meeting. The random girl he was being set up with.
“Shit, that’s today?”
A beat of silence. Ward looks like he’s about to choke him out, “Well, son, you’ve proven again how you can’t fucking be trusted. With anything.”
Rafe rubs his forehead before running a hand through his hair and looking back at you. He can’t be fucked with this shit right now, not with his headache and the fact you’re in his bed and all this yelling would wake you up.
“I’m sorry.”
“You get your ass down there in five fucking minutes, you hear me?”
Rafe doesn’t think he has it in him, to sit through some fuck ass brunch right now. He glances back at you again. This time, Ward sees and narrows his eyes.
“Don’t tell me you’ve got another hooker in there. Jesus Christ, Rafe. It’s like me talking about this family’s image means nothing to you, the way you bring these hookers into my house in fucking droves.”
“It’s not what you think.”
“No?” Ward looks fucking livid, Rafe wonders how he has the energy to be like this so early in the day, “You think I’m stupid?”
“No.”
“Does it go over your fucking head every time I tell you it’s time for you to stop this bullshit and settle down? People are watching us, Rafe. Potential investors, business partners. They see all this shit, okay? And yet you insist on going around and–”
“She’s my girlfriend.”
“What?”
Rafe coughs, again looking back at you to make sure you’re still sleeping, “Uh, she’s my girlfriend.”
“You have a girlfriend? Since when?”
Rafe doesn’t quite know why he’s just thrown this lie out in his father’s face. Maybe because in his mind, it’s not really even a lie. You weren’t just some random girl, you were his girl – even if you didn’t realise it just yet. Or maybe he’s lied because he wants his father to just take him seriously for once.
“Since a while now.” He clears his throat, “She was out late last night and I went to pick her up.”
“How come I’ve never seen her before?”
“It’s serious so I was trying to keep it under wraps,” lying has always come easily to Rafe, and so he speaks smoothly, quickly gaining traction, “And you’ve seen her. On the security footage. She’s the one I had on the patio.”
Ward nods thoughtfully, “The one in that dress? The cute one?”
A strong wave of irritation courses through Rafe’s body, he takes a few quick, deep breaths to keep it at bay, “Yes.”
There’s another long pause as Ward takes it all in. At one point, he looks beyond Rafe’s shoulder and into the bedroom as if to get a glimpse of you. Rafe’s quick to subtly shut the door and step outside of it. Fuck if anyone else saw you right now.
“Fine. You can skip the brunch. We have a business meeting afterwards though. Join us for that, if you can clean yourself up in time.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And Rafe? I expect a formal introduction with her. If she’s to be a part of this family then you can’t keep her a secret for too long.”
“Okay.”
Rafe breathes a sigh of relief when his father leaves, and he returns to his bedroom, shutting and locking the door behind him.
You’re still lying there, in the middle of his king-sized bed with sunlight dappled all over your face. Completely asleep and so serenely sweet. It makes his heart lurch, but he swallows that feeling quickly.
Your phone’s glowing dimly beside you. He doesn’t hesitate at all, whipping it up to see who exactly was texting you. It’s your mother. Multiple messages. He can’t see what they say without unlocking your phone first, but he can guess she probably wouldn’t be too happy with you right now. In a sick way, the idea of that makes him glad.
And Rafe just sits there on his bed, watching you sleep. Strokes your cheek with his thumb, watches as you lean into his touch. That’s when he consolidates it in his head. After last night, you were his. Completely. And now everyone would know. His family. His friends. Your mother. The whole of fucking Kildare would know you belonged to him. You’d know too. And you’d accept it. He’d make sure of it.
Even if that meant turning you against your mother completely.
A/N: Okay. There we go. Rafe's lie counter is through the roof lmfao - how many times did this man lie throughout this chapter???
Anyways, please PLEASE let me know what you thought of this chapter. Any opinions/predictions/thoughts/ANYTHING. Feedback means the world to me. I'll be honest, I am very very nervous about posting this chapter bc I don't know what people will think of it. Like genuinely. And it's a bit scary. I really did try my best to get this out for you guys as quickly as I possibly could write it. Your feedback would mean the world - so please, if you read this and like it, do also consider dropping a comment or reblog or sending me an ask on what you think!
Also, some questions! You don't have to answer, these are just for fun!
Do YOU think reader could've protected herself at the party if Rafe hadn't been there?
What exactly does Rafe feel for reader after this chapter?
What do you think Ward will think of reader?
Do you think reader will go along with Rafe's plans or keep fighting against him?
ANYWAYS. that's it. i'll try to sleep now. please please let me know what you think. thank you so much for your patience and ily <3
omg this was so fucking good like istg rafe’s perspective genuinely feels like canon s1/s2 rafe !! i feel so bad for reader tho like at some point i’m praying she acc gets back at this man at some point
content.ᐟ 18+, rafe cameron, unprotected p in v, pathetic!rafe, sub!rafe, crying, premature ejaculation, praise, pet names (baby, ma)
rafe cameron who cries into your neck and whimpers during sex.
he can't control his emotions when your warm pussy is fluttering around him like that, when you're moaning his name and taking your manicured nails down his back enough to leave little red stripes.
you're cooing at him when his hips falter their movement against yours. "rafe..." you purr, kissing the top of his head and carding your fingers through his damp blonde hair. he's sobbing into the crook of your neck, babbling small apologies for stopping.
"s'okay, baby.." you try to coax him into moving just a little bit, but he's so overwhelmed, so vulnerable. you experimentally fuck into him, rolling your hips against his, and the movement makes him whine. he grips the expensive silk sheets next to your head so hard his knuckles turn white.
"p-please don't move... m'sorry baby, m'sorr-" his pleading and apologizing is cut off by you shushing him and rubbing his back, soothing the angry red marks left there. "don't be sorry, rafe," you speak gently to him, as one would to an upset child. "feels too good, huh?" you feel him nod against your chest at the question, gripping onto you for dear life, like you're the only thing that can ground him (you are).
he's never been like this with any other girls, despite having been with so many. you've ruined sex for him with anyone else, he swears nothing compares to you— to your warm, tight velvety heat, sucking him in and making him act like this. he thinks it's your fault for getting him so close so quick, your fault for being so good. he's completely pussy whipped.
once you decide you've had enough of the cock warming, your fingers bunch up his hair and pull him away from your neck, making him whine and gaze at you with those big glossy pleading eyes. "baby, you're gonna make me sad if you don't move..." you complain, cupping his cheek. he leans into the contact, fluttering his eyes shut and letting fat tears fall down his face.
he's so sensitive to every little touch, he feels like he might cum if you breathe too hard. "m'sorry..." he repeats, pathetically. "you're jus' t'good..." he hiccups, looking down at where the two of you are connected, and groaning at the sight of your slick glistening on your folds.
"i know baby," you can't help the soft smile that grows on your face, "you feel so full inside me, rafe. y'know that?" you tease him.
his dick twitches violently in your gummy walls at that comment, his pretty pink tip grazing that spongy spot inside you, making you moan his name breathlessly and clench around his cock. "shit! ma, please- don't- don't talk like that please..." he's begging at this point, begging for you to stop being so mean!
"m'not doing anything" you reply, peppering his face in soft kisses. his head falls back down onto your chest, and hes shaking with sobs. "why d'you do this to me..." he mutters.
he's sniffling into your chest, letting you caress him and praise him until he turns into a puddle. his dick sits heavy inside you, and unfortunately your sweet talking is just making him throb uncomfortably.
you take his big hand in yours and guide it down to the small bulge in your belly from his cock. "feel you right here, rafey..." you tell him. he folds at you holding his palm against your tummy, gazing at you with that lovesick look and feeling his balls tighten up.
"i love you..." he hiccups, and before he can control it, he cries and grips onto your shoulder tight, pulsing rhythmically and spilling inside you, his warm, sticky release filling you up.
he fucks into you and rides out his orgasm, crying the whole time. "shit-" he shakes his head, tears falling onto your bare chest. "m'so so so sorry baby- i didn't mean to..." he tries to tell you, but his body is wracking with sobs.
he truly didn't mean to, he was just so caught up with the moment, and embarrassed himself :( cumming like a virgin
you shush him, "rafe... i know baby, s'okay" you coo at him, drowning his whimpering with a deep kiss.
he eventually melts into you, smushed against your tit so he can listen to your heartbeat, the one thing that lulls him to sleep. you're not angry you didn't cum, you know he'll make it up to you later by eating you out for hours :)
plug!rafe smokes a blunt while you’re on top of him (18+ mdni)
“fuuuck, y’hear that?” rafe drawls as the creamy sound of you sinking down on him fills the thick air. his words come out muffled, blunt wedged in the corner of his mouth as he watches you move with lazy eyes.
his fingers knead the fat of your lower back with gentle precision as the smoke curls in graceful ropes around your face. you nod, totally blissed out, rocking back and forth as you pluck the blunt from rafe’s lips to take a hit yourself. it’s almost as if rafe doesn’t believe his eyes as his mind zooms in on your lips wrapped prettily around the joint, leaving a glittery lipgloss stain.
“stealing my js, huh?” he chuckles, wordlessly pulling the blunt back between his own lips. one hand rests behind his head, biceps thickening, while the other dips under your oversized tee, fingers digging into your side to keep your ministrations steady. “y’r lucky you’re cute.” the dealer endearingly flicks your nose, crooked grin plastered on his face.
you whimper shakily as rafe’s cock nudges that snug, sensitive spot inside. “jus’ want something in my mouth—” you confess wobbly, hands already reaching over to snag the blunt from rafe’s lips. pride be damned, the weed taking its toll on you. the man beneath you swallows at your honesty. “yeah?” he taunts, middle and pointer finger hovering in front of your lips as a silent hint. “sweet girl just wants something in her mouth?”
without thinking, you close your lips around the two digits, teeth scraping over rafe’s family ring. the sharp sensation of your ribbed teeth on his skin overpowers him, the stutter of his thighs vibrating through your cunt. thick smoke billows around you, the bitter smell of the weed swirling in the air.
you whimper lightly at the sensitivity of your mind, the feeling of rafe filling you perfectly to the brim. “such a nasty girl, taking what i’m givin’ you.” he mutters, voice a tad bit slurry, but his eyes are twinkling in wonder. your big doe eyes flutter dramatically at him, tongue swirling around rafe’s thick knuckles.
both of you are lost in the clouds of pleasure. rafe’s sprawled on the bed like a fucking king, just watching you putting in all the work while he puffs out grey smoke once in a while. you’re gone, only chasing the pleasure that seems to be within reach now, whines and whimpers mingling together. you feel so stuffed, feeling the twitch of his cock in you every time you breathe in.
rafe grunts at your sloppy ministrations. “look at you sweetheart. nothing going on in that pretty little head of yours, huh?” he practically grits out. your pussy clenches around him at his tone of voice, his fingers still heavy on your tongue. rafe takes another drag, blowing the smoke in your face like a miserable taunt.
“just— lemme see ya, baby. thaaaat’s it, fuck, just—” he continues to babble as you pick up your pace, low eyes zeroed in on the tacky white ring around his shaft. “gonna get’cha so used to me, moulded to my shape. swear you’re never gettin’ another dealer ever again.”
a/n: ts was low-key collecting dust in my drafts ✌️
warnings ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა : oral ( f rec. ) , bluecollar!rafe ( dada mannn )
you loved to watch bluecollar!rafe eat . . .
yes, i know that sounds weird, because why would you like watching your husband eat? but here's the thing about him, he always ate like the food was gonna run away from him.
you noticed—well, it was hard not to—on your first date. he was quite literally scarfing down the plate within milliseconds of the food being served.
and no, you were not taking your food home because once you placed your fork down, you practically read his mind. "you want the rest?" you didn't mind, simply because you found his big appetite endearing.
to be honest, you found it hot too . . .
like just imagine rafe being exhausted after being out in the summer heat from sunrise to sunset. his skin was slightly flushed from sunburn, probably in an airy white tee and shorts.
but then he begins eating like he's been starved, despite the plethora of food you packed in his huge lunchbox before he left.
large, rugged hands gripping the spoon handle like a vice, completely dwarfing the utensil. both elbows are planted on the table as he hunches over his plate. he doesn't let any exaggerated sounds escape as he inhales his meal like a vacuum cleaner.
so just having this beefy man at your dinner table had you wondering one thing: if he eats like that, imagine how he eats cat. & boy did he eat it well . . .
everything was wet. your pussy, inner thighs, rafe’s face, and even the sheets below you. yet that only spurred your husband on because he could and would make you wetter.
“rafey, m’sensitve now,” you’d mewl, digging your head deeper into your pillow.
when rafe was between your thighs, he was a man of few words, only grunting or letting out raspy moans to your taste. continuing to slurp down your pussy juices like his day starved him from being saturated in your slick.
he’d suckle on your clit in a way that had your thighs tensing around his head and your toes pointing into the air. sometimes he’d even have his teeth lightly graze your nub when you’d get too rowdy. “let me eat,” he murmured, circling your dripping entrance before dipping his tongue into your heat to receive more of that sugary sap you flooded his mouth with.
and when he felt your velvety insides get warmer, he immediately tilted his head and flattened his tongue against your pussy, ready for your cunt to splatter that sticky cream of yours onto his taste buds.
& cream you did. once you felt that muffled “cum for me,” vibrate against your throbbing pussy, your thighs trembled around his head. your cunny pulsing rhythmically around his tongue, because of course, he wasn’t moving until he licked up every drop you gave him.
when rafe finally let up, you’d watch him wipe his mouth on the back of his arm, mirroring his actions from dinner . . .
so yeah, having a husband with a big appetite meant he had an even bigger appetite when it came to you :3
