Hells Fire Keeps You Warm

You had a great day. You slept at his place. He made breakfast, brought it to bed shirtless, with fresh droplets of water on him from his morning shower. You went shopping, needed groceries for the next week, planning to get off work for the following days and have dinners together. He pushed the cart, put everything into it that you laid eyes on, or touched, and already told you what he's gonna make for dinner. Worked out annoyingly loudly and suggestively, then made dinner in a fucking apron, spoon feeding you to test out his new pasta sauce.

All damn day was a torture, as you think of it. And you just met with the consequences. There were moments you thought you caught a glimpse of the same thing in his eyes when his lingered longer. The same thing your mind is plagued for a while now, body demanding more than hugs and pecks on your forehead, and you are certain you'll blow up from the need. You consider it. To just make a move and see what happens. To take action, but this little voice speaks with the haze of lust and your whole entirety of relationship can't hang by that tiny voice alone.

He is content, happy and joyful. You haven't had quality time in ages, you just have to enjoy this. You have self control, right? Right.

Yeah, no. You need to get up, and shake the nerves out of your limbs, go and get rid of that awfully insistent heat in your core, spreading from your bellybutton.

All the snacks are gone from the coffee table, soda cans empty. An escape route to the kitchen presenting itself to you.

You almost jump up, all too sudden making your head dizzy, and Caleb's eyes snap instantly up to your form from the tv screen, searching your face for any indication on why the sudden move.

"You okay Pips?" It's cute. He is concerned, voice he only uses with you. Harmless, caring, talking to you like you are the softest and most fragile thing in the world.

"Yeah, just want more snacks." Breath damnit. Voice shaky and lighter than normal, making Caleb's brows furrow. "Want something?"

You are strangely casual. Acting weird, awkward even, and you cringe internally. Avoiding his gaze at all cost, fumbling with the cans and candy wrappers, hoping for a scenario where you don't drop anything on your way to the trash bin. The embarrassment is so heavy on you that you momentarily forget what made you red in the face in the fist place.

"Hold on, sit back down, I will handle this Pipsqueak." No fucking way, you need a breather, and if you stay on that couch you might just spontaneously self combust.

"It's okay, I need to go to the restroom anyway." Caleb has no time to sit your right back down, you are already in the kitchen, fleeing as if your ass is on fire, trashing everything and practically running to the bathroom. You left him there dumbfounded, looking after you like a confused puppy.

You would dip your head into an iced filled bucket, in an attempt to freeze your trail of thought, images that hunted you all damn day like a poltergeist, always reminding you about those naughty things in the most inconvenient moments. But for now, the splash of cold water from the faucet will do. Or at least that's the idea, the coldness sharpens your mind, but the dampness between your thighs wont just evaporate on command, and your spine still sends those shivers up and down when you think about him. And you think about his nonstop, it's hard not to when he's right next to you, in arm's reach.. You want to groan, to pull on your hair, punch something, or just take care of the desire quickly before going back out and face him again.

Fuck this. If you don't emerge from this bathroom in a couple of seconds, he'll know something is up with you. Just go out, grab some food, drinks and continue the night. Easy.

You flush the toilet, let the faucet run for a little before heading for the door, somewhat pulled together to face the rest of the night like a normal person who definitely didn't soaked her panties just from thoughts in her head.

You can behave.

You stop in your tracks when you are met with a wall. A wall of Caleb who is completely blocking the door, leaning heavily against the doorframe with one hand, eyes tight, suspicious purple devouring your newfound blush on your face. He still smells faintly of his cologne he put on before going out this morning, mixing with the sweet grape soda and the unique scent only he carries. The unmistakable, personal drug that is his body scent.

"What's wrong?" Even the faint idea of him not catching onto the slightest mood change is hilarious, a funny joke. He knows something is up. It's not a question of if there's something wrong, the question is what made you like this.

"I'm okay." What else can you say? How can you throw him off, and make him believe that there's nothing going on when there's actually a wildfire burning inside your veins. "Really."

His arm is flexing on the doorframe, besides that the only movement he makes is a slight head tilt, as if he could read you better that way. He looks at you deep, only satisfied when you finally hold his gaze for more than a second, then he makes room for you to leave the bathroom, still hot on your heel. He is now a hound that caught a sniff of his prey and he won't be letting it go now. He is attuned to your every move, his attention baring you completely, mind going blank, forgetting how to function.

This is absolute hell. Literally because the cold water simmered off your skin, fever dominating your body head to toe. This is just great.

You can sense him right at your back, blending with your shadow, becoming it even. He opens the fridge before you could touch it and shuts it after you grab two grape sodas. You mindlessly press one can to your neck, welcoming the chilly sensation, rolling it on any available surface that can be cooled down until the can starts to feel just as warm as your insides.

"Are you sick? You look more flushed than usual." He takes the drinks out of your hands, snatching the bag of chips you were already reaching out for on the counter. "Maybe you should lie down Pip, we can finish the movie tomorrow."

"I'm alright, Caleb. I want to watch it." Flashing a smile at him, hopeful to get him off your case at last.

You drop back down on the couch, aiming for the end of it, hopeful for some distance between your bodies.

Until Caleb closes that distance by sitting right next to you. He opens up both cans, fingers working fast, and hands the beverage out to your trembling hands. Long fingers with nicely cut, manicured nails, veins visible even in the dimly lit living room. You make sure to not touch his skin when accepting the drink, just to be safe. Clicking the cans together, Caleb resumes the movie where you left off. Or more precisely where he left off, 'cuz your head was in the gutter at least for the last 30 minutes of it.

You take careful sips, just a placeholder for an action before the inevitable comes and has to do something with your hands for the remaining time of the night. You knees pulled up to your chest, forming a closed ball at the edge of the couch, clasping onto that grape soda you don't even want anymore.

As if he read your mind, he slips out the can from your grasp, places it on the table with his own, and leans back on the plush pillows you warmed up previously. "Now come here."

The next second your are flush against his chest, limbs all over him as he hauled you into a tight cuddle, just as any other regular day before. You might yelped in the process, muscles rigid, eyes blown wide open until his fingers start to trace an evenly pressured, soothing circles on your forearm. You melt into him like ice cream, left hand resting on his abdomen, left leg planted over his thighs. You can hear his heartbeat under your ear, his chin resting atop your head like puzzle pieces put together. He starts the movie, and relaxes under you as if this didn't altered your brain chemistry completely, gasoline on fire, fueling back everything that you tried to get rid off up until now. Now he is not just a thought against you, but warm flesh and soft kisses on your forehead and tickling fingers up and down on your arm, and you might just loose your fucking mind.

This goes on for far too long, you are not even sure you could go this far but here you are, wrapped in his hands, somehow closer and closer with each passing minute, and it's innocent. So innocent on his part. He's not teasing, or suggesting anything at all. He genuinely listens to what's happening on the screen, laughs and murmurs, commenting on the happenings and you just hum back, completely lost in the friction of his hips and abs twitching with each laugh and word he utters. The position he placed you in pushed his hipbone right between your thighs where you are oh so deliciously hot and damp, making it worse with his voice resonating through his body, and you keep opening up. Legs slowly widening on his thick thighs, putting almost all of your weight on him, but he gives no indication whether if it's bothering him or realizes it.

He laughs again, vibrating in his whole body, his abs tightening, a quiver shooting hotness through your clit that's scraping his hipbone. A moan almost escapes you, you merely let it get past your throat, but his deep voice brings you back for a sober moment. What did he say? You couldn't tell, because you hip moves on it's own accord, brushing yourself against him slightly, not too much, just as if you were positioning yourself into something more comfortable. If he questions it, you can say your leg got numb.

But he doesn't, and you do it again. And it makes you frustrated. It's not enough friction, not enough warmth, and you feel ashamed. This isn't right, but fuck it feels so tempting to do it again and again until you feel this hotness not only in your clit for a broken millisecond, but in your belly too, then your whole body. You want to groan, to let out this excessive bubbly aggravation. His attention is on the movie which is too loud and too bright, and it's distracting not only him, but you too, disrupting the desire coiling between your legs. His attention should be on you.

Fuck this. Fuck all of this. You have to do something about this or you will explode right on the spot.

With a quick fleeting idea, you reach over him for the remote, leg thrown over his spread, your chest pressed against him as you clutch onto the object, messily maneuvering yourself right into his lap. Right where you wanted to be.

"Woah, Pip..." The most beautiful sight greets you when you look back at him.

He's red like a tomato, eyes wide, lips hanged open in surprise. His hands linger on your waist not sure what to do with them, hold onto you, or retreat back in case he crosses a line. A line you crossed this evening multiple times without him knowing.

His body is rigid under you, muscles tight from the nerves, the same ones your body is high on, gnawing on you with desire.

You hover over his lap, knees holding you on each side of his thighs, a little more and you will be sitting down on him fully, in his lap, a seat made for you. Your tongue snakes out to wet your lips, and his eyes drop to the scene, his breath hitching. You hear it clearly, realizing you mindlessly muted the tv, the remote still in your hand, the pad of your finger firmly pressed on the volume down button. Holy shit.

Self awareness crashes down on you like an ice bucket thrown over your head followed by a wave of heat. What the hell are you doing? Your brain switching from clarity to complete haze in matter of seconds, back and forth.

"I just.." You start, words dying on your lips when you feel his hands gently setting on either side of your hips.

"You could have told me that it was loud..." He whispers in a low painful tone, failing miserably to act naturally. God he is so flushed and flustered, but beneath that you see his hooded violet eyes flash with something. Something deep and oppressed.

He waits, his fingers barely touching you in case you decide to move and get off of him. He is ready for anything. To hold you right there or to let you go safely back into his side. But he isn't unaffected. You couldn't deny that even if you tried.

Without a second thought, before you have a chance to chicken out of your decision, you lower yourself slowly, electricity cursing through you as you take a seat, molding perfectly to him, both of you releasing a whiny moan at the contact.

He is rock hard against your clothed opening, and you wonder if he felt the tension in you all this time while your suffered from it.

Half lidded you peek at him, his head dropped back at the couch, mouth open, chest rapidly moving up and down. Neither of you move, you just savior the feel of him so close, in a way you didn't dare to dream of for so long. Until today, because today you were shameless with your daydreams, and you let your body lead the way, and it lead you here, atop of him, pressed neatly against his bulge, spiraling. What now? There is no going back now. No way you can go reverse out of this and act like it never happened. Act like you didn't get a taste of absolute paradise.

You are just getting started.

"Caleb?" What kind of bravery possessed you, you have no idea, but courage is coursing through your system like a powerful drug.

He looks up, dazed, his eyes slowly coming into focus on you, as if he's realizing that he's not dreaming and his hands clasp on you with such a force that makes you tremble.

"Hmmm?" His tone raspy and low, with a hint of his usual teasing, scanning your body starting from your face down to where you connect and his gaze sticks to it as if he's seeing something magical happening.

"Is this okay?" So breathless and high, makes you wonder if you sound as desperate as you feel yourself to be. His ears turn red, only his eyes snapping back at you under his lashes and you see the Colonel peeking through, desire erupting in your belly.

"Yeah" Yes yes yes.

Looking deep into his darkened eyes, you grind your hips, barely, testing the sensation. Various fabrics between you causing sweet friction, and you feel yourself fall. There is no way you will stop after this. His mouth hangs open wider, fighting for the ability to keep his eyes from rolling back into his head. He watches as you slowly rub your clothed pussy over his length, up and down torturously, dragging his sweatpants with the motion. He lets you do it, his hands only resting on your hips, fingers finding their way under your shirt to massage the skin softly. It's all you, your own playground to set the rhythm, the pressure and the angle.

You switch to long lines, hoping to measure all of his length in the process, but the pressure detours your brain from any cohesive thought.

You moan and whine quietly, letting out more and more sound as you get lost. Between your sounds, his own grunts break through the fog. Various rumbling and trembling grunts escape him, sometimes more guttural, deep from his chest, other times he's close to whimpering and it's sounds absolutely blissful. You want that sound, you want to turn him into a whimpering mess under you, falling apart because of you.

The lazy strokes turn into deep, intrusive grinding, alternating between fast and lighter rubs to a slower but harder pressure on his cock and it makes him loose his mind. His head falls back, then it's up again to watch the mess you create on the light fabric, your juices starting to dampening his sweats, near the waistband his precum already forming a dark spot for you. You imagine the grey color deepening with his cum, causing you to stutter against him, spikes of pleasure shooting up your clit. You feel your orgasm coiling deep, threatening to pool your belly with white hotness.

You hold back a little, slowing down your movements, going back to the starting point with small rubs and light pressure, easing yourself into a comfortable tempo. Your ass falls into his thighs, filling the space and he adjusts immediately, attuned to your every move, however he looks frustrated, riled up to a point he might just take matter into his own hands. His hips buck up chasing the sweet friction you provide for him, and when you stop, just so see his reaction, he whines, actually, loudly whines. Painfully, like you've caused him great ache when you denied him the next stroke.

"Pipsqueak, why did you stop? Please don't stop." Heavens. He's pleading sweetly, with his hips circling to guide you back where he wants you. Right back on his cock. "Please."

You were never good with giving the cold-shoulder. A knowing smile and his inviting regretful voice took all of your will away, forgetting the reason you were upset with him in the first place. You never lasted, and you won't start now. You can't resist when he's asking so nicely.

"Please what?" Oh you are testing his limits. His eyes bore into yours, a smug smile taking over your face, enjoying his very visible anguish.

You wait. Will he beg, or is he done with your teasing? You can never know where is the point where he is no longer indulging in your games, and turns it all against you.

"Please come back." Begging it is.

You slide back, feeling him up before ramming your hips, ready to chase that high that almost tippled you over before. He's making sounds that will forever be etched into your brain, moaning your name in between sweet whimpers.

You move with a purpose, chasing that specific friction on that specific spot that gives you the perfect pressure, orgasm building up to a point you know it will shatter you completely. You ride him like your life is depending on it, sweatpants coated with your slick, your shorts ruined and it's the most beautiful sight.

It's hot madness, nothing exist outside of this bubble. You practically pinned Caleb down, supporting your wild strokes on his shoulder, and he lets you do anything.

You feel it strengthen in your lower belly, clit so sensitive it makes you tremble in your whole being. You know it's coming, but the orgasm hits you like lightning. Body twitches, seizing up and locking him up between your thighs, his hands grabbing into you in an instant. You shake ferally, body ascending to another dimension. Eyes rolling back with sounds coming out of your hanged jaw that would wake up all the neighbors if he would've any. It's stinging your spine on the way and soothes out with the after waves, body going limp.

"Oh I'm not finished with you yet, Pips."

His hand digs into your hips and starts a violent pace dragging you against his hardness with a brutal rhythm, causing you to claw on his shoulder. You are upright, only because he's doing all the work keeping you in place. Overstimulated, your body jerks with the remains of your last orgasm and builds the next one rapidly. And you thought you have the upper hand?

He is ravenous. You have taken what you wanted and now he commands more. Under you half-lidded eyes you see a frantic and wild gaze watching your cunt grinding on him, and smiling cockily when he sees you watching. Bastard.

He drags out a second orgasm out of you, for this time, making you scream, breaking the rhythm when cums just after you with raspy groan. You are forcing yourself to look at the mess he's making in his sweatpants with broken rolls of his hips, hands firmly keeping you on him. His cum soaks his sweatpants, the material darkening with the spurts of it, creating big spots where your juices dampened the clothing already.

You fall into him seconds later, sweaty, heaving. His hands clasp around you instantly, senses coming back slowly from the high. You feel immense amount of relief, the all day tension oozing out of your pores. You could fall asleep right then and there, plastered on his chest sticking to him, but he starts to plant sweet kisses on your head, chuckling. You want to ask him what's so funny, but no words come out, lips unable to form them.

"Don't tell me you already fallen asleep?" He teasing you, both with his words and roaming hands on your back. You shake your head a little, refusing to move. "Won't talk to me?"

"Come on, give me those eyes." Uh-oh. His voice rumbles, suggestive but soft, no longer pleading, but ordering.

Slowly lifting yourself up, hands groping his chest in the process, you give him a shy smile, avoiding his eyes like the plague. Like you didn't just dry humped him violently.

He guides you gaze at him with a lift of your chin, a playful and reassuring smile on his lips. He leans in and pecks the corner of your lips, your chin, your cheeks before settling on your soft lips, kissing you gently. You give him access instantly, letting his tongue slip in.

The bonfire was a common place for everyone to get shitfaced, and one of the few occasions for the Pouges and Kooks to blend together in one place for pleasure only. His heart picked up a pace when the Twinkie pulled up next to Kelce's immaculate Benz, and he saw your group jump out of the old thing one after one. Topper took a deep inhale that indicated that wherever his attention was all night so far just made it to the party. As his eyes followed Sarah and John B literally attached at the hip, Pope and Kie taking a turn for the beer, deep in conversation, and he holds his breath, waiting. And just when he thought he can freely loose that breath, you emerge laughing loudly, Maybank hot on your heels. The air burns in his lungs, as the blonde follows you through the crowd, a bright smile on your face, replying to whatever nonsense he's yapping about. Yes, it's definitely a whiskey night, not a beer night.

"Kelce dude, you have anything stronger than this shit?" Topper voicing Rafe's exact thought fidgets nervously on, suddenly eager to take part in the party.

"I brought some stuff yeah, i just thought we gonna start easy you know.."

"Easy man? When do we do that? Now show me that famous stash you have." Top tries to downplay it, but his nerves are written all over his face. "You coming Rafe?"

He will loose sight of you, but maybe that's for the better, because if the first minute of seeing you made him wish for a stronger drink, what more of you could possibly cause him?

He nods, following his friends to the car, brushing past people he has no interest in. The girl he cracked last week who wouldn't leave him the fuck alone, guys from school, saying hello, asking what's up with him. He nods, and says hi, but he cannot take his eyes off of you, still endorsed in whatever Maybank is talking about. Your group takes a turn toward the beer, Maybank already shotgunning his first one, making a scene for you, causing you to laugh with your whole chest. The sounds travels to him over the cracking of the fire and the crappy music from the various speakers around the place. God he never liked bonfires.

Kelce pushes a bottle into Rafe's hand, and without a second thought he takes it to his lips, shotting his head back when Maybank's back completely covers his line of sight of you. Fuck this.

What is about you that he can't fucking let go? You were just a Pouge, the new meat everyone talked about in the first coupe of months of you moving here, right at the edge of The Cut. You looked nothing like a Pouge, and the hot topic was which side you will belong to eventually. He vaguely remembers Kelce constantly talking about you, but he had others things on his mind, plenty girls in his contact he can hit up without a fuss, and he knew you were absolutely a girl one has to fight for. He was indifferent.

Until he wasn't. Soon the Kook's realized you had no plans playing Kook princess, and not a single loser could grab your attention with their freshly ironed polo shirts, or how good they were at golf, or what spotless new car they drove. No, your eyes landed on the other side, on the people he already despised too much for luring his sister away from their family.

He had one shot at talking to you, probably the one and only Kook party you attended, and the one that made you decide what kind of people you want to surround yourself. He remembers walking out to the shore next to Topper's home, finding you tucked away from the noise and crowd. You looked up at him, smiled sweetly, inviting him to sit without a word. He can't remember what you talked about, he's not even sure you talked. His mind was in shambles at that time, and it's a miracle he can remember this much.

The bottle is passed around hungrily, and his veins filled with a sense of power he recognizes with both fear and satisfaction. The feeling when he might just do something stupid and not have a second thought about it. But he looked at his friend, who's turned wilder with every second, Rafe knew it wasn't his night to fuck it up. It seemed Topper had the honor to do that.

"Look at them. She doesn't even know what she's doing with those filthy Pouges." Rafe almost was at the point where he couldn't separate his own thoughts from Toppers, knowing his friend meant Sarah, while his mind only saw you carefree in that jean shorts, and tank top that hugged you perfectly, showing off your sunkissed skin, various necklaces and bracelets hanging on you, embodying the Pouge style. The faint memory snakes around his mind, you body heat, the slight connection of your skin when he sat down next to you at the beach. He was desperate too remember more.

The party was on full swing by the time you make it there, but it wouldn't matter with the guys, whatever they did, good time followed them. And trouble too.

Kie and Pope was having an important conversation about climate change, JJ's voice cutting through their heated discussion from time to time to ease the tension between the two, while John B and Sarah took the time to have their lovebirds moment a couple of steps away from your group. JJ mainly entertained you, with nonsense topics, ridiculous plans on the awfully halted treasure hunt they pulled you in months ago.

The moment you stepped out the car, you felt eyes on you. Burning your skin, creating a sweet mix with the chilly air on your skin and the flaming feeling under it. It ignited you in a way you couldn't describe.

"You mean to tell me that you can't shotgun a beer?" You grimace at him, and a wide grin cracks on his face, face lit up, looking like a toddler seeing his first Christmas tree. That's on you telling him you never done it before. "We gotta correct that error. Watch n' learn padawan."

He does the process dramatically slowly, to demonstrate how to dig a hole in the can, and drink it up causing the biggest mess he can. "You gotta be real careful with how you handle the can." He points at the lower half of the can with his pocket knife. "Best spot is at the bottom, away from the top so when you punch a hole in it, and you pop this badboy..."

And with that JJ smashes his knife into the can, and empties it out like it's just air inside the can. A fratboy would be very proud.

"See?" the front of his tank shirt soaks up the excess beer dropping from his chin "Perfect execution."

You laugh with your whole belly, looking at the boy whose waiting for your approval with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Okay, now show what you've got under your sleeve then, 'cuz i guarantee you cannot do better than me."

"Hnmmm, you doubt your teaching skills, master?" You give him a sly smile, earning a challenging look from him.

"Show me what you got petty girl."

*

That's it.

His hand slips from Topper's chest, holding him back from stomping his way to where Sarah and John B make out unknowingly, not prepared for what's about to come.

Pretty girl.

While your group was oblivious to Topper's tantrum just a couple steps away, Rafe heard it quite clearly. Until then he held his best friend from marching to the lovebirds at the edge of your group having their moment, but as soon as Maybank's words reached his ears, a feeling he never felt before took over him.

Pretty girl.

Before Rafe could get a hold of his emotions, Topper were already in the middle of the Pouges, acting awfully neutral while his voice was laced with disgust. Oh this is bad. One night when Rafe doesn't feel like causing trouble, and that's when his best friends decides to leash hell upon everyone around him.

Suspicious eyes landed on Top, including you, turning away from the blonde boy who took a step too close to you, like a fucking magnet he is.

"Oh, it's good to see you around Sarah. I was wondering when you'll be showing your face again. Like you know, after fucking him behind my back." Topper opened a beer, gulping it down cocky, his eyes fixed on Sarah's disgusted face.

The Pouges had an unanimous look on their faces. For the first time, he could look at your face, lit by the fire close to you. Your eyebrows knit together, a little confused, not entirely realizing what is about to go down. You are so damn beautiful. Even with a disturbed look on your face, he couldn't help but admire your features, completely lost in the moment. You completely pull Rafe away from the situation with one simple blink towards him.

"Of course you have nothing to say, you filthy little..."

Rafe's neck snapped towards his friend in anger, the same reaction spilling from both Rafe's and John B's mouth.

"HEY" Top threw his hands up, backing away towards Rafe, then turning his back on the crew. But the sickening smile on his face let Rafe know this wasn't just over.

"Hey man, let it go, ya hear me?" Rafe's voice is lethal in every way, the words simple but a serious threat lurking behind them. Rafe searched for a lingering common sense in his eyes, but it was faded with whiskey and pent-up rage.

*

You watched carefully, feeling the boys in front of you on the edge, the tension radiating of off JJ behind you, who inched closer with every second passing. His chest now at your back, his breath just as quick as yours.

You knew Rafe and his temper, but damn, the boy confused you so much it messed with your head on a whole different level. Just a couple of months ago he was madman crazy after you and your friends, and the next thing you knew, he was tipping you way more than other's at the bar you work at, and now he looked around the group like he had some common sense behind those striking eyes.

You couldn't master up a word, simply frozen in the moment that led to Topper's next words.

"Was she good Routledge? Huh? Did you enjoy that soft, fresh..."

On an instant, before he could finish, John B's fist is in his face with various obscene words, sending Topper back a few steps into Rafe. A loud gasp erupts around you, and you realize you had a sharp intake of breath too. Everything happens too fast for you to act, and JJ is in front of you, but to everyone's surprise, he doesn't pounce. All tense muscles, wide back in front of you, hands at his sides in a fist.

John B is shaking from anger, Sarah and Kie a few steps behind him, Pope on alert, fidgety from the nerves.

Every eye turns towards Topper, laughing, his busted lip oozing blood, and as you peek out behind JJ, Kelce is in the same stance, eyeing JJ with disgust, more than willing to fight if it comes to that.

You could hear a pin drop, the blood rushing in your ears loud, your heart wildly beating in your chest.

Topper never seemed scary. A capable asshole? Sure. But scary? That was Rafe's specialty. But Rafe looked neutral, no emotion on his face, and as you think about it, that also was his specialty.

Topper swiped his hand over his lips, taking a quick glance at the smeared blood on his fingers, then his gaze zeroed in on John B, then he was on him.

Everyone moved with as one, Pope launched for Topper, Kie pulling Sarah away from the commotion, and when JJ's warmth left you to leap at Rafe, you caught his eyes for a second, all wide and what? What is that in his eyes?

Your body moved with instinct, to pull JJ back, because you saw that look. Rafe wasn't going to fight, he didn't want to fight. you know because he went for Topper, and not for Pope or JJ. And Rafe never gave up on an opportunity to throw a few punches at JJ.

"JJ!" You screamed at him, but everyone screamed. Sarah's sharp scream still ranged in your ears, John B's grunts were too loud to be not painful, and Kie didn't hold back when she too went for Topper to get him off John B. Everything happened so fast, but you see and hear so much, overwhelming you, pumping adrenaline in your system.

Your eyes are on the back of the blond boy's head, not knowing how will you stop him from getting into a fight with Rafe.

Strong arms yank you back before you could reach JJ, like a punch in the stomach, you yelp with the pain, gasping for air.

"What the fuck!" You breath out, Kelce's arms wrapped around you, holding you back, probably thinking you were going for Rafe too. "Fucking let go of me!"

Your stomach hurts like crazy, probably from the impact that Kelce collided with you. You throw a weak punch at Kelce's back, which doesn't faze him at all. "Keep yourself out of this princess, we don't want you hurt yourself, right?"

There is so much innuendo in his words you want to vomit on him right then and there.

*

Rafe's blood runs cold. Kelce's hands forcingly holding you back, pain written all over your face. And that's it, right there the feeling he can't and won't ignore. Anger sweeps through him like wildfire.

Without thinking Rafe throws JJ to the side out of his sight, like some kind of superpower took over him, and roars over the noise of the party and the altercation.

"FUCKING LET HER GO"

Rafe sees Kelce's stunned face, unable to comprehend that his friend is actually shouting at him. And before he could realize it, Rafe is already peeling him off of you, tumbling backwards, sending Kelce to the ground right on his ass. He spins back so fast, his movements trembling with the kind of rage that only he can carry.

But something is different. He is not erratic, out of his mind mad. He feels it too, the difference, this is not what he usually feels when the rush of blood comes and forces him to act on impulse. This feeling has a purpose, a destination to reach, and it wasn't truly satisfied by knocking Kelce over a little.

It takes a coupe of seconds to realize everyone is watching him in awe and surprise. Earning confused gazes and an awfully long silence that for a moment no one dares to brake. Then he looks at you, slightly hunched over, hands hugging your abdomen, breathing so rapidly it matches his own heart, beating out of his chest.

He looks away, he has to. He has to move and get out of this situation right now. He locks in on Topper, who is suddenly sober and bright, almost looking ashamed. It takes two threatening steps and a grabbed collar for the crowd to give space for Rafe to haul his friend out of the party.

*

His eyes are crazed. Burning and shining, the fire's reflection blending into his irises. You look into them, deep, not even attempting to break the contact. You can't, because you have never seen him defend any one of you, let alone go against a friend in a Pouges honor. So you search his eyes for something that will explain his sudden outburst. He assesses you in a quick overlook of your face and body, then immediately finding the one who started all of this. Every one of your friends are stunned to speak, rooted in their spot. JJ is the first to stand from where Rafe basically threw him, getting ready if that white hot madness suddenly turns towards his friends. But Rafe just grabs Topper by his shirt so aggressively you grimace, and yanks him out of the group, not even glancing back from their way to the cars.

"Everyone alright?" Pope is already counting bruises and injuries which is oddly low for an encounter like this. Some murmurs of yeses are heard, you just hum, still watching Rafe's car pull out of the makeshift parking lot.

JJ approaches you with alarm in his eyes, fidgety hands gently pulling you closer to the friend group.

"You alright?" You nod at him, still feeling the urge to throw up everything you ate that day.

Sarah is wide eyed, inspecting John B's busted lip that it seems is the only thing that bleeds today.

Kelce's loud groan gains your attention, who struggles himself upwards, pain written all over his face.

"What the actual fuck?"

Wooyoung

That man is chaos himself. Bed messed up the moment his pinky toe touches the mattress. He is the type to drag you into bed with him, regardless if you want to finish the day or not. You aren't sleepy yet? He will make you sleepy. You want to finish your movie? He will outright turn the TV off in front of your eyes. You are on a phonecall? He will be the most dramatic man ever, acting wounded by not giving him the attention. He will drag you to bed, pull you into the weirdest cuddle positions, and will talk your ear off in the meantime. He likes to catch up all on the happenings of the day, yapping away, asking millions of questions, feeling like it's his duty to have all the information of your day, and to keep you informed about his time away from you. He likes it when you caress his skin, light featherlike strokes up and down his arms, making him shiver every two strokes, whining it's ticklish, but never pulling away from you. He demands your full attention, and he gives nothing less. In the morning you can never know how you will find him next you. Blanket and pillow pushed on the floor, his shirt hanging on his shoulder sleeve still on of his arm (probably fell back asleep while trying to get rid of the clothing), or meeting with his foot on your eyelevel, feeling his fingers clutching your ankle in need of cuddles.

Yunho

This man garauntees giggles&cuddles before bed. He is the biggest sweetheart, trying to please you in every way possible. He will wait for you to finish whatever businees you have at the evening, and will tail you through it like a puppy. He is taking part in the process of getting rid of your makeup, changing the sheets, shower, picking PJ's. He will entertain you all the way to the point where you cannot keep your eyes open anymore. He likes it when you are close, and that applies in between the sheets. When it's finally time to get into bed, he will pull you into his embrace, already tangled with his limbs, giving light kisses, making you laugh, and completely filling your mind with him and only him. Before bed, he likes to share snacks, watching something you probably will yap over. Most of the time you are the first one to give in to sleep, snack still in your hands, half of your body on top of him, your giggles still echoing back from the walls. He never wakes you up, always careful to remove any obstacles, and tucking you in so gently you never stirr. Only when you are comfortable will he be settling down himself, probably watching you with a smile on his face for a while, just to savior the peaceful moment.

Seonghwa

He is the hardest to lure to bed. However he is not that far away from the bed, seated at his desk, putting a new lego together, so engrossed in the task he wouldn’t realize how much time have passed since you first asked him to join you under the blanket. He would never ignore you, so everytime you try to steal him away from his current fixation, he gives you sweet smiles, soft kisses, comforting strokes on your skin, asking for a little more time before turning in for the night. After a while you don't bother him no more, already half asleep waiting for him, and he will miss your cute interruption when it doesn't happen in due time like the previous ones. He's always anticipating a pull on his shirt, a hug from behind, questions about whatever he is doing, and when it doesn't come, he will turn around to see you not tucked in, in a position where it's clear, you won't be getting in bed without him. That's his cue, to put everything down, and finally resting his mind, focusing only on you. Dazed in slumber you always hear him whispering sweet nothings to you while he's gently puts you in bed, always positioning you close to the middle, where he will meet you when he finally lays down. He will mumble goodnight, pulling you in a comfortable cuddle, planting a soft kiss to your forehead, and immediately falling asleep right after you.

Yeosang

Jongho

He is very particular about his space, and while he makes sure that the bedroom is serving his wants and needs, with that he is thoughtful of your preferences too. Whatever you like, he will prepare it for you, so when you join him,- because he will most definitely will be in bed before anyone else in this world - you just have to fall in bed next to him. He probably will read a book while he waits for you, most of the time he busies himself even if he is exhausted. He rarely gets to sleep in the same bed as you, so he wants to spend as much time as possible to feel you slowly falling asleep next to him. He likes the little routine of telling you goodnight, stroking your hair, giving you a peck on the lips, talking a little until he hears your words slow down, voice quieter. He will take your hand in his, using your evened out breathing as his lullaby. He is the perfect example of calm sleeper, even when he shifts in his sleep, he does it with a grace you will never understand, because his side of the bed somehow always look perfect. He likes it when you nuzzle into him, especially when you are the big spoon, legs and arm hooked around him like you are fearing him disappearing in the middle of the night. And while you wake up looking like you slept a whole week, he is unfazed, looking as pretty and perfect as he laid his head down on the pillow the night before. You will definitely tease him about it, and his only response will be a kiss on your forehead with a low chuckle.

Hongjoong

He is an absolute light sleeper, leading a ridiculous sleeping schedule. If you can call that schedule, because he will fall into bed at 8 pm one night, and the next you wake up to him dragging himself to bed at 3 in the morning. He always apologizes for being all over the place, and you always reassure him that it's okay, as long as he is okay with it. You know sometimes he wishes to be next to you, curled up with you, but work keeps him away from the soft pillows and duvet, and for that reason he is completely knackered by the time he finds his bed. He is restless, even in his sleep, all over the place. Sometimes he is asleep as his head hits the pillow, then sometimes he stares at your form for a while before he can even rest his eyelids, let alone slumber. He is chaotic, sleeping is an adventure with him because he will discover every inch of the bed. He will take up so much space you have to push him back to his side, other times he shrinks up into the smallest space, and in search for a cuddle you tap all the to the edge of the bed, him almost falling of if he moves just a little in his sleep. And as his body, his brain can't get a break either, waking him up randomly, in his haze searching for your body with his eyes, hands legs, doesn't matter, he will not settle back until he feels or sees you by his side.

San

San is all for cuddles. He will pull you close in any and every position, he have to have that skin to skin connection, even if it's your pinky toe touching him. (🤣) So when you plop down into the soft duvet, he won't play around, and will pull you into his embrace in an instant. You will switch positions all night, but you will be always in between his hands, tucked to his chest, locked in place by his legs, his head nuzzled into your neck. If you somehow escape his cuddle prison,- because he gives off heat like a furnace- he will search the bed in his sleep to find you and pull you back. There is no argument here, and you know you can't say no to that pout and small whine whenever you try to propose the idea of actually using the sides of the bed, like you are supposed to. Because with San, only the middle is perfect for sleeping, he never sleeps on his side, and he never lets you sleep on yours either. And because he is locked on you all times while asleep, he will be awake right way when you try to get out of bed, asking millions of questions about where are you going. San always has the worst bedhead in the mornings. Doesn't matter how his hair is styled, he will look like a bird just made a nest on his head when he wakes up.

Mingi