rafe is obsessed with you
rafe grips the fireplace mantel with one hand and his stomach with his other. his stomach isn't right. his skin is cold, but he's sweating from his forehead. kelce points out that rafe looks pale. rafe knows he looks pale. this has happened to him before. when he hasn't been around you in too long, he starts to get sick. or, when he imagines you with another guy, his knees weaken, and he has to sit down.
"you okay, man?" topper claps him on the shoulder.
rafe nods, but he's going to throw up. he can barely keep his eyes open. he pushes his half-drunk beer into topper, who takes it and asks him something else, but rafe can't manage to make it out. he stumbles for the bathroom, clutches onto the doorway, and pukes in the sink. the marble is cold against his hands as he grabs the edge.
he gazes at himself in the mirror. he really is pale. even his eyes are more pale than usual. he thinks of you again then leans back and hits the wall. maybe you're not coming to this party like he hoped.
rafe looks for you at every party. he's obsessed with you. but rafe would never call it obsession. he's your protector. he makes sure you're safe... from afar. an urge inside of him makes him care so much. sometimes, rafe feels like if he doesn't have you, he'll die. sometimes, like now, he feels like he's dying. once, he thought he was having a stroke because you didn't show up where he thought you would, and he figured you were with another guy. he smashed his beer bottle and cut his hand that night---he drank way too much.
his friends don't let him drink too much anymore, because every time rafe drinks, he goes on and on about you---"my girl" this, and "my girl" that.
he stumbles back to his friends, wiping the saliva from his mouth. topper lights up at the sight of rafe then says, "hey! your girlfriend's here."
rafe lights up. "where?" he looks all around but only sees strangers.
topper points through the crowd. there you are, talking to some friend of yours that rafe finds irritating. you're happy.
rafe relaxes. you're here. you don't seem to be with a date.
kelce nudges him in the shoulder. "you gonna go talk to her man, or you gonna stare at her all night?" he and topper snicker at one another.
"yeah, rafe, she might leave you for another guy," topper jokes.
but rafe doesn't think either of them are funny. you are his girl. when you hook up with another guy, you are betraying him. someday you'll realize that.
when rafe is high, he thinks about kidnapping you. stealing you from wherever you are and stuffing you in his car, taking you home with him. even handcuffing you to his bed post. you'd be scared, but in time you'd learn that you can trust rafe. you'd sleep in his bed, make his pillows smell sweet like your shampoo, and warm like your perfume.
an hour later at the party, rafe finds you curled up on the couch in the middle of the living room. you're in a white tank top and a denim skirt. nobody is paying attention to you at the moment, but you're vulnerable. you've been drinking and have knocked out.
rafe nudges you awake. you're sleepy but reach your arms up for him with your eyes shut. rafe smiles to himself and scoops you right up. he feels your body against him for the first time. he feels you everywhere. his dick hardens in his pants.
you let him help you to a bedroom. this party belongs to a friend of yours, as you naturally flop down on the bed. rafe stands over you and undoes your denim skirt. he watches for your reaction, carefully, then starts pulling it down. you whine about it, but it feels good, him removing your clothes. he helps you under the covers then sits on the bed beside you until you fall asleep. it takes about two minutes.
at a different party, unlike last time, rafe keeps his eyes on you the entire time. ehile you're chatting with friends, refilling your drink, dancing in the living room. you don't drink very much before you decide it's time to go. you say goodbye to your friends, and rafe panics. he got so much closer to you last time, he doesn't want to be apart from you so soon.
he decides to follow you. he hurries out to his car and waits for you to pull out, then he does the same. you pull into your driveway as rafe pulls up beside the curb about half a block down. from here, he can see your bedroom window. he cuts the engine and unzips his jeans, watches you from the dark as you run out of the car, inside your house. rafe starts touching himself. this is when your parents are fast asleep, and you're getting ready for bed.
your bedroom light snaps on. you come into the window and set your purse down, throw your hair behind your shoulders. rafe lifts his hips up into his hand. and then you start undressing. top first. no bra. rafe strokes himself faster. that top was barely holding you in, anyway.
your breasts bounce as you shimmy out of your shorts. rafe imagines forcing you against that window and fucking you hard, and he whimpers.
another figure appears. rafe stops, his dick hard and oozing precum. It's a guy. you're with a guy. somehow, he came into your house. and he's seeing you completely naked. only rafe is supposed to see you naked, nobody else.
he throws his fist into the glass window, makes a loud thud! and rafe is almost certain he sprained his fingers. he beats the steering wheel, curses and shouts. the guy grabs a handful of your ass, grinning, and undoes his jeans. he fucks you up against the window. rafe can almost hear your whimpers and cries, and he starts touching himself again. he's a mess of emotions; angry because another guy has his hands on you, his dick inside of you, but also so, so desperate. desperate to get off, to watch you come for real, not just imagine it in his head.
he comes with you. he watches your facial expressions, your mouth open wider, your hands claw at the glass, until thick, white cum comes squirting out of him. rafe lets out a long, loud, shaky groan until he finishes. he catches his breath then grows angry all over again at the fact that some other guy just fucked you. not in his head, in real life. whoever that guy is, he can go home tomorrow saying he fucked you. rafe can't, not really.
but there's nothing rafe can do so he drives home. on the way, he thinks about you and touches himself again. the more he thinks about you with that guy, the angrier he becomes, and the more turned on.
when he gets home, he's completely hard. he stomps through his house, up to his room, removes his shirt and jeans then climbs onto his bed. he humps his mattress. slowly, at first, because he's tender and throbbing.
is that guy sleeping over? is he gonna fuck you again? rafe can't stand to think of you going all night with another guy. in fact, rafe wishes he didn't know, he didn't see. it's making it hard for him to focus, even as he pounds his mattress.
if rafe fucked you, he'd get you pregnant. it would only take one try. he imagines you with his cum inside, between your thighs, both of you catching your breath. knowing he'd done it, he'd made you his forever. a piece of him inside of you all the time. you'd walk around for a while without anybody knowing, no one but you and him.
when he comes, he curses and spazzes against his mattress, soaking his underwear. it comes over him quickly, violently, imaging himself pounding into you, and when he pictures his cum spreading inside of you, he's hit with another wave, comes again. his fingers hurt from grabbing at the sheets. he curses through his teeth.
he collapses against his bed, against his mess, and catches his breath. he's weak, so weak without you. a whine turns into euphoric crying as rafe imagines you with that guy again, doing it over and over and over.
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