rafe turns obssesed for you when you let him drink your blood.
the first time rafe wanted to drink your blood, there’d been some hesitation. like a flicker of something human in those blue eyes. like he was fighting himself not to, but he needed blood, and he knew you’d be a good friend enough to let him.
but now?
oh, now he’s already grabbing your wrist before you even sit down. “you’re not saying no.” he says impatiently and you haven’t even answered yet. rafe’s fingers are wrapped around your wrist, thumb pressed right over your pulse like like he’s memorizing it. his grip isn’t painful, but it’s firm, and almost possessive.
“dude,” you warn, trying to pull back just a little, just enough to prove you can. but you can’t, he doesn’t even let you move an inch. his jaw tightens, eyes flicking up to yours, dark and glowing red. “don’t do that,” he mutters. “don’t, don’t pull away like that.”
“it’s my arm,” you shoot back, breath catching when his grip only tightens. “yeah,” he says immediately. “yeah, i know it is.” he agrees, “doesn’t mean i don’t need it.” your stomach flips at that, at how serious yet needy he sounds, so so desperate. “you’re fucking obssesed,” you annoyingly whisper.
something in the way he looks at you shifts. like he’s subconsciously confirming your statement, before he actually does. “i am,” he says quietly. “you did that. you made me like this.” and before you can respond, he pulls you forward so quickly you’re stumbling into him, landing halfway in his lap. his arm wraps around your waist instantly, locking you there like it’s second nature, like you belong there.
because to him you do, and you don’t even know it. “rafe.” you warn again. “stop talking,” he breathes, but it’s not harshly, it’s shaky, and frayed at the edges. “please just-” he starts with that pleading needy voice again. “just let me” he brings your wrist up again. his eyes don’t leave yours, searching your face like he’s waiting for you to stop him.
you don’t, because you never do, part of it is gratifying for you too. to know how much he needs you. the second you go still, he exhales with relief, like he’s been holding it in for too long, and his lips brush against your skin. your soft and floral scented skin. “say it,” he murmurs against your wrist. your brows knit, “say what?” you ask confused. “that i can tatse it again,” he says, his fingers flexing against your waist. “i need you to say it.”
“you already are,” you point out, breath uneven. his grip falters for half a second, just enough to show it hit something. “yeah,” he admits. “yeah, but i wanna hear it.” your pulse jumps under his mouth, and he makes this quiet, wrecked sound like he felt it more than you did.
“…you can,” you say finally. that’s all it takes before his control snaps. he pulls you impossibly closer, but he does it anyway, his other hand tightening around your arm as he presses his mouth to your skin, and the second the sharpness of his fangs pierce the skin on your wrist, he loses it completely.
he lets out a sharp inhale, like it shocks him every time, like it’s too much and not enough all at once. his fingers dig in, holding you there, grounding himself in you as his head tilts back slightly. “fuuuck” he groans out broken, barely there. it's like his whole body is convulsing.
his lashes flutter, then his eyes roll back completely, like he can’t hold onto anything, not himself but you. “rafe,” you breathe out, your voice breathy and filled with concern, but he doesn’t answer.
he can’t answer. his grip tightens instead, he leans back dragging you flush against him, like he needs your whole body there or he’s going to come apart. his breathing is uneven, shallow, lips still sucking your skin like he doesn’t know how to stop.
like he won’t. “don’t” he chokes out, barely coherent. “don’t move.” he demands. “i’m not.”
“don’t move,” he repeats, fingers flexing. “please.” please. you go still instantly. that word shouldn’t sound like that coming from him. after a few seconds, he finally pulls back, but not far. his lips are still brushing your skin, damp, lingering, like he’s not ready to lose contact yet.
his chest is rising and falling too fast. his mouth stained red with droplets of your blood leaking from the corners of his mouth. you tilt your head, trying to catch his gaze. “you okay?” he lets out a shaky laugh. “do i look okay to you?”
not at all. he looks so wrecked, and completely gone. his eyes finally meet yours, and there’s nothing steady in them anymore,just hunger, just need, just you. “you’re-” he starts, then stops, jaw tightening like he doesn’t even have the words. “you’re not real.”
“i’m literally right here.”
“i know,” he says quickly, almost frantic. “i know, i just-” his hand slides up your arm again, back to your wrist, like he can’t help it. “nobody should feel like this.”
“like what?”
“like i’d fuckin' lose my mind if you said no,” he answers immediately. “like i already did.” your breath catches. “rafe…”
“save it.” he cuts in, shaking his head, pulling you closer again until your foreheads almost touch. “don’t make it a thing. i don’t- i don’t care.”
“you don’t care that you’re addicted to me?” then he menacingly smiles, it’s unhinged. “addicted?” he repeats softly. “that’s a nice way of putting it.” his thumb presses against your pulse again, slower this time, almost thoughtful.
“i was thinking more like, i don’t function without you.” your heart stutters, your unspokedn feelings only enlarging. you subconciously squeeze your thighs from want and he feels it, fuck, he smells your arousal. forgetting you don't fully know how the bond between a human and a vampire works.
his entire expression darkens instantly, something greedy flashing across his face. “see?” he murmurs, already pulling your wrist back toward his mouth, already slipping again. “you do that and then expect me to just, what? sit here?”
“do, what? rafe, wait.”
“no,” he says sternly, breath hitching as his lips brush your skin again. “you said i could.”
“i said once-”
“doesn’t count,” he cuts in, eyes flicking up to yours, completely gone again. “doesn’t count anymore.”
“that’s not how that works.”
“it is for me.” and the way he looks at you when he says it, like nothing else matters. “tell me to stop,” he challenges suddenly, voice quieter now, almost dangerous in how calm it is. “go on, tell me.”
you open your mouth. nothing comes out. his lips twitch, just slightly, already pulling you closer. “you have no idea how thin the line is between wanting you, and fucking loosing myself in you.” and this time, when he presses his mouth to your skin again, he doesn’t even pretend he’s in control anymore.
and you're left with nothing but his venom, and the burning desire of wanting more of him.
based off this instagram video. something quick bc i've been nonexistent.
