Tension *Rafe Adler x Reader*
You looked between the two men standing in front of you, listening intently as they discussed search plans to find the elusive Saint Dismas Cross. “I think it’s best if we start at Scot-” Sam starts.
Rafe cuts him off without hesitation, “No.”
“Rafe it’s the most solid-” He tries again.
“We aren’t just going to go charging in there, Samuel, we need to have some procedure to this,” he states angrily.
You narrow your eyes at Rafe. Everything about him made you angry, the way he had an air of superiority, the way he was often aggressive without any reason at all. “Why?” You ask simply. Most of all you were sick of the way he always got the last word. He may have the money to fund this hunt but without you and Sam, he’d never find the treasure.
Sam catches your gaze, giving you a small smile and shaking his head slightly. He wanders out of Rafe’s study, probably to smoke, but also partly to avoid the inevitable argument he knows will come.
He doesn’t look up at you. “Because I said so.” You purse your lips angrily, staring daggers at the side of his face.
He slowly looks up at you with a neutral expression. “If that’ll be all…?” He trails off, which is your invitation to leave. By this point you’re fuming, biting the inside of your cheek and plotting ways to dispose of his arrogant body.
“Fuck you.” You snarl out, almost slapping him before you turn to leave but then think better of it.
He catches your wrist. “If that’s really what you want you should’ve asked earlier, darling.”
You scoff at him as a smirk creeps onto his face. The way he’s calm just makes you angrier, enough for the both of you. His sea green and sienna eyes are soft compared to yours, and you scowl at him, just for being himself.
He tugs on your wrist, and you search his face, wondering what he’s up to. Your eyes fall on his lips for a millisecond and before you can do it yourself, Rafe pulls you into him, and his lips are on yours.
Nothing about the kiss is soft and sweet. It’s an ironic contrast to Rafe’s stoic attitude a moment earlier. It seems like all the anger and pent up emotion between the two of you is finally being let out as you roughly kiss him and his tongue dances along your bottom lip. One of his hands comes up to hold the back of your neck, and the other is on the small of your back, pressing you as close to him as possible, while your hands grasp at his gelled undercut.
Your noses bump and your hands accidentally catch in his hair but that doesn’t stop the thought that suddenly comes into your head, like a flipped switch all of a sudden, maybe he’s not so bad after all.
Rafe pushes you roughly against his oak desk, and with only a second’s hesitation you allow his hands to unbutton your jeans.
“Well, I guess we’re going to Scotland,” Rafe says, slightly out of breath. He always got the last word.
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