lovely distractions

you’ve been dating for so long, accompanied him to so many away games and international tournaments, you don’t even look up when he pokes into your side.

“move over, babe.” says ferran, nudging you a little toward the other side of the bed. he looks at you with tired, droopy eyes, but that happy twinkle is still present. that’s just how it is: he’s always happy when he’s with you.

a small, affable smile pulls on the corners of your mouth. “no.” you say, as smug as ever.

“no?” your boyfriend repeats teasingly, disbelieving. he snatches your book out of your grip, drops it on the nightstand. “you’re a little mean to me, baby.”

his warm hands travel to your sides, the place where you’re most ticklish. “fer— no!” you shriek out, laughing, trying to escape ferran’s strong, yet gentle grip as he digs his fingers into your plush skin.

“you’re a minx.” ferran laughs with you, hovering over you, caging his thighs on either side of yours. his nimble fingers travel under your pajama top — an old manchester city jersey of his, his name and the number 21 on the back completely chipped off from the countless laundry washes.

to top it off, he shakes his head right in your face, the stray water droplets landing right in your face and your shoulders. “oh my god, ferran—” you giggle when the wet spots splatter across your skin.

“you gonna be a brat again, huh?” he laughs breathily, face shoved into the crook of your neck while placing fluttery, light kisses all over the column of your throat — he knows you get squirmy and fidgety when he does that. “no— i won’t!”

his wet hair against your chin smells fresh. mixed with the light touch on the soft of your waist and the feathery, velvety kisses to your neck, there’s only one solution for you.

“i surrender!” you giggle, absentmindedly raking your fingers through ferran’s soaking wet brown — now almost black — strands. “i give up.”

the tickling stops instantly. instead, it’s replaced with a smoothing touch over your bare skin. “good choice, baby.” your boyfriend says with a self-satisfied smirk, lifting his weight off your body. he shifts his head up to your jaw before placing a chaste kiss to it.

ferran rolls himself partly off of you. “you had fun today?” he asks, chin resting on your ribs as he looks at you with those big brown eyes you’ve come to love over the past years, a dopey smile on his face.

“yeah, fer,” you sigh. no matter where the two of you are, ferran always wants you to have fun. he’s not always outspoken about it, but he worries when you’re left alone in a foreign country when he prepares for a game. “bought a couple of books today.”

you gesture to the nighstand, where your book lies, all abandoned. “oh? you did?” your boyfriend huffs, stretching his arms to grab the book from the little table. he inspects the cover with utmost attention, reads the little summary on the back.

“that’s good, baby,” he says sweetly, the book looking comically small between his fingers as he places an absentminded kiss to your jersey-clad midriff. “glad you’re having fun without me.”

you catch the little disappointed tone in ferran’s voice. you know he has a tendency for dramatics when he’s all tired from a game.

“don’t start, fer,” you say, lightly scratching your boyfriend’s back. “saw you after, remember? on the pitch?”

ferran lets out a hearty chuckle. “what did you think?” he asks intentionally, knowing damn well he assisted.

“oh, good game. really good. especially that number seven who assisted… you reckon you can give me his number?” you joke. your boyfriend looks up at you, chin still placed on your ribs. crimson blossoms all over his cheeks. “don’t be like that, baby, please.” he laughs, voice a little strained, burying his face into the fabric of your — technically his — shirt at the mention of his assist.

the sound of ferran’s laugh is burned into your mind like a cattle brand. “you were amazing, though. don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” your voice drops lower, more serious. you cup his chin, thumb rubbing over his bottom lip.

his gaze turns into something more vulnerable. you know he needs to hear those words now more than ever.

that makes ferran crawl up your body. his gaze all mellow and gooey, like melted honey. his warm arms wrap around your waist as he flips you two over. now you’re on top of him, in his arms, legs tangled together.

“thank you, love,” ferran mumbles, lips smashed against your cheek as he talks. you can feel the frantic thumping of his heart under his bare chest. and his hands on you, you love it. “i love you, you know that?”

“i do,” you retort sarcastically, pushing yourself up on your elbows so that your face hovers above his. “you tell me like, oh— only ten times a day.” you look at him pointedly.

your comment has a mischievous smile spreading across ferran’s lips, earning a playful swat to your bum. it’s light, but it still contains hints of that teasing, lighthearted humour you two always share like an unspoken secret.

“thought you weren’t gonna be a brat today, hm?”

especially with that backwards hat pushed down on his head, the thick brown locks out of his beautiful face, the strands curling up at the bottom. and then ferran came home — completely oblivious — to the fact of how mouthwatering attractive he looked. all out of breath with rosy cheeks, neck coated in a thin layer of sweat, his sun-kissed biceps bunching up as he wiped his face with his soaked shirt.

and you? you had to push your thighs together. cramp your fingers around the pages of the book you were reading on the windowsill, especially when ferran came up behind you, still smelling like the sunscreen he put on hours ago. “’m back, princess.” he mumbled, pressing a small kiss to your collarbone.

which brings you here— now you’re sprawled on the thin, white duvet of the bed ferran and you share. the slow, syrupy strokes ferran’s feeding you driving you insane. “fuck, look at you—” he grits through his teeth, the press of his hips to yours so tantalising and the grin on his face oddly teasing— somewhat cocky. “such a pretty girl f’me.” he dips his head down to your neck, pinching the thin of your skin between his teeth teasingly.

your panties and ferran’s shirt are reduced to two pathetic heaps of fabric on the floor. but his hat? the dark blue one that drives you absolutely crazy? it’s on his head right now, as steady as ever, perfect in your line of sight like a fucking taunt as the squelching sound of your pussy sucking him in ricochets off the walls.

“—just look so good like this,” you whimper as ferran continues his sticky ministrations. your arms are wrapped around his neck, his necklace gently tapping against your chin every time you try to speak. when your hands travel to the strands of hair of ferran’s brown hair peeking out from the sides, you feel his thick fingers press firmer in the plush of your hip on instinct.

ferran lets out a satisfied, breathy huff. “oh yeah?” he chuckles as his hand beside you clutches the duvet tighter. “how good do i look, huh?”

you stay silent for a moment, only dreamy sighs escaping your lips, until he gives you one particularly powerful thrust. “tell me, baby.” he presses when you don’t respond, the feeling of him inside you too intoxicating and addictive to care about what’s happening around you.

ferran’s strong grip around your chin pulls you out of your stupor, though. you waste no time in responding; partly because you’re so close to your climax, you think. “so good, fer,” you admit, a soft whimper tumbling from your lips. “always wanted you to fuck me with your hat on so badly.”

“shit— say less, princess.” without any more words, he flips you over, you’re looking down at him and his usual, godforsaken crooked smile. the chub of ferran’s cheeks blossoms a rosy colour again, but this time for a whole other reason. your hands find leverage on his sweaty chest. he cranes his neck up, lifting the blue hat off his head, plopping it right on your head instead.

ferran’s smile grows wider between his heavy breaths. he looks at you like you’re god’s gift, eyes twinkly and pupils dilating. “fer, what are you do—” you breathe, but he cuts you off with a small squeeze of his hands around your thighs.

the hat still feels warm from your boyfriend’s head, the warmth it has absorbed from the sun. it’s a tad bit too big on you, on the verge of slipping off your head.

“prove it to me, then,” he mumbles, shifting his arms behind his head, giving you a nod of his head for you to start moving on him. “prove to me how badly you want it, baby.”

He groans, laying back against his headboard as he watches you. "But I miss you so bad," He sits up a little, taking your lack of focus on him as an opportunity. Normally, he’d ask you to shut your laptop and notebook for a couple minutes so he can enjoy all of you after a whole day of not hearing the sound of your voice, but he’s so pent up and he doesn’t have you to take care of him.

"Tell me about your day, baby," he mumbles, one hand moving off his phone to discreetly slide his hand lower, lower… until it was at the waistband of his pants, slowly pushing them down so the camera doesn’t shake.

He doesn’t feel obligated to mute his microphone as you start talking, either. Maybe because there’s a thrill of you catching him and scolding him. Or better, you catching him and stripping and giving him a show as you touch yourself along with him. The thought sends a shiver down his spine and a twitch to his hardening cock.

Either way, he just wants your attention.

"It was mostly just classes today. Nothing special," You say, and he whines, not wanting you to stop talking. You smile, continuing to write notes and study. "Okay, okay. You’re such a baby, Rafe."

"I am not."

"You are."

"Fine. You never let me disagree with you anyway."

You laugh softly, a pretty twinkling sound that literally gives him butterflies. He grunts softly as his fingers brush against his hardening cock. He's been thinking about you all day, imagining all the things he wants to do to you when he sees you again. He's not sure how much longer he can last like this.

"So tell me more," He coaxes through a grunt, hand wrapped firmly around his cock. Just seeing you in your skimpy little clothes while you chew on the end of your pen while making direct eye contact with him is enough to make him throb. You huff teasingly, eyes rolling playfully as you get started on elaborating on your very boring day, unaware that his pants are off and he's rubbing his thumb back and forth on the drooling slit of his mushroom tip, panting softly into the receiver.

You're still not noticing. He's partially disappointed. It's not hard for you to take notice of it either. The camera's bobbing unnaturally, he's flushed and grunting softly, and his responses are soft 'uh huh's' and 'mm... yeah's'. Regardless, his eyes roam your body, landing on your plush lips through the screen as he imagines you wrapping them around his cock and sucking him off when you see him again during break, your ass up and back arched while he lays down and you give him a nice view while your tongue swirls around his tip, fuck, he moans loudly, squeezing his cock with his fist.

"Rafe?"

He looks up, eyes hooded and hazy. You look confused, and he hopes you're finally starting to catch on. He grins, sweat trickling down the side of his jaw. He hasn't stopped. With neither of you talking, the schlick schlick schlick sound of him milking his cock is quite audible. Just his luck though, you still don't catch on.

"Just asked you a question, baby."

He groans, partially annoyed, extremely turned on. "What's that, gorgeous?" You smile so adorably at the compliment. He wants to ruin you. "I wanted to know what gifts your family would want for when I come over. I think Wheezie mentioned a Squishmallow."

"The hell is that." He grunts, now looking at the way the light reflects off your tits. You laugh, and he frowns, wanting you to see. He lowers his phone just enough for you to see the flushed tip of his cock if you really focus, still stroking himself. His eyes flutter and he bites back a moan, now thinking about you sucking him off again, but this time using your breasts too.

You tilt your head curiously, still not quite catching on to Rafe touching himself. "A kind of stuffed toy? I'll ask her to make sure," you reply distractedly, flipping through a few more pages of your textbook. Rafe growls lowly, your casual demeanor only encouraging him. He wants nothing more than to reach through the screen and grab you, to pull you onto his throbbing cock and make you feel every inch of his pent-up desire.

But for now, he's left to grind his teeth and stroke himself, hoping like hell you'll notice his telltale movements and sounds. Sometimes you could be so blind. "What about me? What do I get?" he murmurs suggestively, almost letting you see his hand gliding up and down his shaft, the camera angle unmistakable now. He squeezes his thick cock from base to tip, lips parted slightly. His cheeks are a pretty pink.

"Me, duh." You smile. "Why? Want me to get you a gift with the money you keep putting in my account? You'd basically be getting a gift for yourself, Rafey."

You lean over to grab your pen, your breasts strain against the thin fabric of your bra. The flimsy material does little to hide your hardened nipples, clearly visible in the dim light of your dorm room. Just then, you hear a loud groan over the phone, startling you. "What's wrong, Rafe?" you ask, brows furrowed with concern.

Rafe grits his teeth, desperately trying to hold back a moan as he realizes you've finally noticed his predicament. "N-nothing, baby. I just… I got a cramp, that's all," he lies unconvincingly, his voice strained.

His hand moves faster, milking his cock intently. The obscene sound of his strokes fills the otherwise quiet room. You notice his labored breathing, the way his chest rises and falls rapidly with each panting breath. A flicker of realization crosses your face as you realize what's really going on. "Rafe, are you...?" you start to ask, a hint of amusement and surprise in your voice.

Of course he'd be touching himself to you. He's always been kinda pervy for you. He tells you all the time which of your pictures make him cum the hardest, but jerking himself off to you in real time is sort of different. Before you can finish your question, Rafe lets out a deep, guttural moan, his hips bucking up off the bed as he starts to come undone. "F-fuck, baby. I can't... I need you so fucking much," he growls, his hand moving in a blur beneath the sheets.

He thrusts into his hand, head tipping back. He fully lowers his phone, letting you watch what he's doing. It adds to the thrill he experiences, and he groans loudly, not bothering to hide anything from you anymore as he brings himself to the edge, hot spurts of cream coating his long fingers.

He rocks himself through his orgasm, mumbling your name under his breath and imagining he came inside you instead, causing him to leak a little more. He squeezes out all he's got, panting and leaning back against his bed as he comes down from his high.

He lowers his head to make eye contact with you, a lazy grin spreading across his handsome face. "Did you see that, baby? Did you see what you do to me?" he asks teasingly.

You blush deeply, suddenly feeling the warmth of your own arousal spreading through your body. "mmm.. mhm," you hum softly, shifting in your seat to relieve some of the pressure building between your thighs.

He leans back against the headboard, his head falling back against the wall with a soft thunk as he groans. "Fuck, I need to be inside you. You better be ready for me, hm? Gonna fuck you like I hate you."

ᥫ᭡.

Rafe likes to watch everything when he wrecks you. He has your legs shoved upwards as his body slots between you, drilling into you in a mating press on his bed.

The second you came to visit him during the holidays, he made light on his promise. He had picked you up, shoved your suitcase by his front door for later, and swung you over his shoulder like a caveman. You had merely squealed and giggled, squirming playfully when he gave your butt a little squeeze. It was cute, he'd thought then, how you had no idea what he was going to do to you. You just thought he was playing with you.

You're a little more conscious now about what he wanted as he thrusts into you hard and sloppy, your face scrunched up in pleasure while needy whines leave your kiss swollen, bitten lips. He rolls his hips rough and firm into you, and you're so soaked that each thrust had filthy gushing sounds resounding through the room as your slick coats Rafe's cock and your thighs.

"Rafe!" You scream, heart slamming against your chest with each thrust. Perhaps the time apart has made him sloppy in bed, or maybe he's so desperate that he can't control himself, because his thrusts are uncoordinated and hard and rough.

He moans, loud and unashamed, spreading you apart further as he shoves his fat cock into you sporadically, his strokes rough and hard enough to jolt your whole body. "Fuck, this fucking pussy," He groans, using every bit of his willpower not to bust his load in you each time you squeeze down on him or dig your nails into his broad shoulders. "Drives me... ugh, fucking insane."

Each time he bottoms out of your creamy hole and drags his cock against your walls up up up until the flushed tip of his cock is nestled against that really soft spot deep inside you that makes your toes curl, he doesn't stop until he hears that telltale squelching sound of his cock filling you to the hilt, with his bulbous mushroom tip hitting the very back of your cunt, kissing all your little sweet spots all at once.

Rafe grunts in satisfaction as he feels you clench around him, your velvet walls gripping his thick cock like a vice. He knows you can feel every ridge and vein as he grinds against your most sensitive spots. Because you're screaming, legs shaking and fat tears of pleasure rolling down your cheeks.

"Fuck, knew you wanted me to fuck you like a whore," he grunts, feelings the pleasant sting of your nails dragging down his back and leaving red welts in their wake. You moan, eyes locked onto his, which are hooded, the pretty ocean blue replaced with a dark, stormy color. He looks rabid. "Mngh yeah… 'm your whore, Rafey," You mewl, reaching up to grab onto his face and push your mouth against his.

He swallows all your little cries, tongue shoving into your mouth and tangling with yours while his leaking cock rams into you. "Fuck yeah, you are. My little slut. Allll mine. Fuck, you're fuckin' made for me, you know that? Listen to how your little pussy takes me in. She doesn't want me to leave," he moans into your mouth, practically slurping on your tongue. "We aren't meant to be apart, pretty girl,"

He nips and sucks on your lower lip, laving his tongue over it, before trailing open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down the column of your throat. He latches onto your pulse point, sucking hard enough to leave a vivid mark. "Got so fucking sick of daydreaming about you all the time." He moans against your neck.

"All the time. All I did was think about my perfect little girlfriend. I can't fucking take being without you." You keen, back arching as he gropes at your tits, the pad of his thumb rolling roughly over your swollen nipples as he practically slobbers onto your throat, marking you up. "Missed you too, mmm… f-fuck… more, Rafe," You babble, and he almost, almost cums when you moan his name like that. Gosh, he can't handle you.

He can feel his release building, his heavy balls drawing up tight as the telltale tingling starts at the base of his spine. But he grits his teeth, refusing to let go just yet. He wants to make this last, wants to linger in the exquisite torture of bringing you to the brink again and again before finally allowing you the sweet relief of climax.

He slows his thrusts, rolling his hips upwards to hit that gummy spot in you without fail with each thrust, simultaneously stimulating your clit with each pass. He pinches your nipples one by one, before licking your clavicle. "Yeah? Feels good?" he moans, hips driving forward mercilessly. Each thrust drives his fat fucking cock deeper into your pussy, stretching you around him until you swear you can feel every throbbing inch of him pulsing inside you. "Feels real fucking good for me, princess. Can't get enough of you."

Unable to muster an intelligable response at this point, you cry out his name, voice slurring as your hips buck up to meet his. Your needy sounds in response are all he needs to come down. He leans down to sink his teeth into the meat of your shoulder, biting down as he slams into you one last time, burying himself to the hilt as his orgasm crashes over him.

His cock pulses and throbs as he shoots thick ropes of hot cum deep into your hungry womb, painting your walls white as he fills you up just like he promised. You both cry out all loud and wanton as you cum with him, your hips jerking as you ride out the intense waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

He collapses against you, weight pressing into the mattress as he leaves sloppy kisses over your tits, sucking on your breasts to help your orgasm crash down long and hard.

see more in my obx masterlist

“Rafe— baby, stop— we can’t right now—“ You tried to say in between your boyfriend's kisses, as he was on top of you, pinning you to the bed, making his intentions clear with the way his hardness pressed against your thigh. You were expecting just an innocent movie night with cuddles, but he definitely had other ideas when, in the middle of the movie, he just put it on pause and, with a groan, rolled onto you.

“Why not? You’re on your period or somethin’?” He mumbled against your lips, still not wanting to keep himself away from you and kneading your thigh with one hand. You shook your head, making him finally pull away with a questioning look. “You don’t want to?”

“I do, but… we just can’t.” You mumbled again, your eyes wandering anywhere but his face, as you felt your own face heating with embarrassment. Your reason for that was stupid, even childish maybe, but at that point in your relationship, when it was still so fresh, you were not ready to cross that line yet. 

“What do you mean? You’re horny, I’m horny, what’s the problem?” He teased, trying to ease you a little bit. His hand reached for your face, bringing your eyes back to his with the simple tilt of your head. 

“Rafe, that’s embarrassing!” You threw your head back against the pillow. Your hands gripped his shoulders in an attempt to push him slightly away, too shy under his intense gaze, but he just nestled further in between your thighs, being his usual stubborn self. You huffed in slight annoyance, knowing damn well that since he knew there was a reason, he wouldn't stop bothering you.

“I promise it’s not, just tell me.” He gave you a one-sided smirk, leaning in to trace his lips along the column of your neck, making your breath hitch. “Tell me.”

“I don’t like my underwear.” You mumbled so quietly that for a moment Rafe thought that he had hallucinated it, but then he pulled away with such a grin on his face that you wanted to melt into the bed from the pure embarrassment. 

“You what?” 

“Oh my God, don’t say anything!” You whined, covering your burning face with your hands, pulling your head to the side in a weak attempt to hide in the pillow. Rafe tried to keep quiet, he really did, but the whole situation and your reaction were way too hilarious. “Now you’re laughing!”

“I’m sorry— no, baby, don’t try to run away.” He trapped you back under him, in the same position, after you tried to sneak away. You didn’t know whether you wanted to laugh or hit yourself on the head for even admitting that to him, but now it was too late to think about it, as he would probably get all the information out of you, one way or another. “You really think I care about your underwear when I’m about to get some pussy?”

“I just didn’t think that we would, you know, have sex… I thought that we’re gonna watch a movie and cuddle, and it literally slipped out of my mind, so I just put on, like, the regular ones.” You managed to say despite the way your face was literally on fire. Rafe was trying to not make the situation worse, you had to give him that. He was holding back a smile, probably biting the inside of his cheek, and rubbing your thigh lazily. But you knew him. You saw that sparkle in his eyes that he had whenever his pretty head had something smart to say. 

And now he was absolutely relishing the way you got shy.

He then sat up in between your legs with a lazy grunt, eyes roaming over your body, which was spread so comfortably on his bed in a mess of soft blankets. His hands were on your thighs until one of them trailed a little bit higher, just barely slipping under your shorts, as his thumb slowly trailed the edge of your panties.

“You’re overthinking it, baby, I promise.” Rafe’s eyes darted between your face and his hand. He licked his lips slowly, as if imagining his tongue on the place where his finger was. 

“But they’re pink with some flowers on them. It’s just… We did it just a few times, and I always prepared, and you saw me in those sexy lace ones.” Your voice grew quieter at the last words, hands folded on your stomach, nervously fidgeting. “I just want to look good for you.”  

“You do look good for me. Always. See, the lace is hot as fuck, I’m not the one to complain when you wear it. But these?” You saw the way his eyes narrowed the moment his hand tugged down the waistband of your shorts just enough for him to see the pastel cotton material underneath it. “Holy shit, it makes me hard because it’s so you. Soft and cute and sexy. God— I’m gonna blow up if you won’t let me put my mouth on it.” He chokes on his own words, now fully taking off your shorts and sliding down on his stomach in between your legs, face-to-face with your pussy. 

You couldn’t even bring yourself to be embarrassed anymore. The way Rafe looked at you? The way his eyes darted between your flushed face and already soaked material of your panties, as if asking for permission? Oh, you were so gone for him.

His eyes rolled back the moment his lips connected to your clit through the cotton. He hummed, savoring the taste, giving you a soft lick, and fully soaking the material until it was almost see-through with your arousal and his spit. Your hips moved instinctively to his mouth, and your hand reached to his head to keep him where you needed him the most, while your thighs tightened around his head. 

Rafe nibbed at your clit teasingly, enough to make your spine arch off the bed and that pretty sound slip from your mouth, but not enough to make it hurt. “So pretty for me, baby. So sweet. I could eat you out for hours, I swear.”

“Rafe—” You whimpered, hips twitching at the friction, the warmth of his breath through the soaked fabric making your brain go fuzzy. You tugged at his roots, unable to stop yourself and feeling like you might lose your mind if he didn’t do something.

“Mhm?” He hummed like he wasn’t absolutely feral between your thighs, like he wasn’t already halfway undone just from tasting you through your cutesy little panties. “You still embarrassed, baby?” You shook your head, or better said, tried to, but your muscles weren’t cooperating. Not when he flattened his tongue against your clothed clit again and groaned like it was the finest five-course meal he’d ever had.

It was all new to you. This was the line you and Rafe had never crossed before. The first few times it was usual, kind of awkward sex, where you both tried to understand each other's bodies and get comfortable with the intimacy. But this? The way he put his mouth on you without hesitation, as if you did it a thousand times? This was another level of lust that neither of you expected to feel so suddenly. And now he was in between your legs, completely feral and out of his mind for you.

He pressed his thumb into the damp cotton, circling lazily, watching you squirm. “This is better. It’s you. Real you. Sweet little thing who wanted to cuddle and didn’t even know she was gonna drive me insane. God, my cock is going to explode.” Your thighs clenched around his head, and that smug bastard smiled into your core. The vibrations alone had you gasping.

Then, as if getting way too frustrated with not being able to taste you fully, he peeled your panties to the side, groaning at the sight of your glistening pussy. Didn’t even bother taking them off. Just shoved them aside like they were keeping him from his favorite view.

“Ohhh, fuck, look at you.” He breathed, licking his lips, with that lustful look in his eyes. You bit your lips, looking down at him and clenching from that sight only. “So wet already, baby. You let me get you like this in some flower-print panties? Shit, you’re perfect.”

Your heart did a full somersault. But before you could even process that, his tongue finally met you. Without a barrier this time, there was no teasing, his mouth just started working on you, and it made your back arch and your hand fly to his hair again. You weren’t even pulling anymore but just holding on to ground yourself. 

At first Rafe didn’t even bother with rhythm. It was straight up just messy, greedy licks, like he was too desperate to care about anything else. Then, once he found the exact spot that made your hips twitch up from the bed as if in an attempt to grind against his tongue and your toes curl, that’s when he got focused. That’s when he locked his arms around your thighs, held you open the way he needed to, and rutted his own hips against the bed.

“Rafe— oh my God—” You choked out, breath catching on every wave of pleasure. Your whole body was buzzing, every nerve was ready to snap.

“I know, baby. I know.” His voice was thick and fucking hoarse. “Just let me have you like this a little longer.” He sucked your clit into his mouth, just once, and you screamed, with hands fisting in his hair and legs trembling on both sides of his head, and he groaned like he was getting off on the sound of you falling apart.

You felt the orgasm crawl up your spine before you could even brace yourself. Your body tensed, hips stuttering against his mouth, but Rafe didn’t let up, just slid one strong arm under your ass to pull you closer, deeper into him, until you were crying out his name in the silence of the room.

He moaned when you came on his face, lapping every single drop coming out of his body, kissing and softly licking your sensitive bud to help you ride through it. By the time you finally slumped back against the pillows, boneless and breathless, Rafe rested his head on your thigh with the laziest, most satisfied grin.

“You still worried about your underwear?” He asked, voice smug and rasping, glistening mouth pressed to your skin.

You barely managed to swat his shoulder, hands limp. 

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” And then he was crawling back up your body, kissing all the way from your pussy to your stomach, chest, and finally mouth. You tasted yourself on his tongue, moaning in his mouth in surprise, while he held your face firmly with one hand and felt every last drop of your embarrassment melt away.

You were still catching your breath when you felt him shift above you, muscles taut, chest heaving, jeans doing a very poor job of hiding just how painfully hard he was. His eyes were heavy-lidded and dark, his jaw was clenched, and there was a red flush creeping up his neck. You knew that look.

“Fuck.” He growled under his breath, his palm grazing that flushed, swollen bulge in his jeans, slightly moving away in order for you to see it too. You swore that the sight of him palming himself, with you knowing exactly what was under that, made you even more turned on, if that was even possible. “You’ve got no idea what you do to me.”

He leaned back down, pressed kisses to your jaw, and sucked just a little lower, where he already knew was your sweet spot, then lowered himself further, hips aligning with yours. And when his clothed cock brushed against your covered pussy? You felt him twitch. Like he could barely handle the contact.

“You gonna let me?” He rasped, grinding against you again, slower this time, making your panties cling to your skin again. His voice cracked on the last word, like even asking was taking effort. “Just… fuck against it a little. Please, baby. Just a little.” 

Your brain barely had time to form a reply — you were too focused on the way his thickness pressed against you, the wet patch already visible on his jeans. And when he did it again, groaning low in his throat as he rutted his hips against you, the heat between your legs flared up, making you moan and instinctively reach for the button and fly on his jeans. You pushed his clothes down, wanting to cry from the loss of contact when Rafe pulled away to take his jeans and boxers fully off.

When he got back in between your spread legs, he stepped closer to you, his heavy and pulsing cock fell on your bare cunt, making you clench around nothing again. That picture alone was definitely the hottest thing you had ever seen.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Rafe hissed, experimentally pushing forward. He smeared his pre-cum against your panties, sliding up and down a few times. For a few moments you were silent, too mesmerized to even say anything. Your body was basically twitching from the feeling of him against you, your brows furrowed and mouth slightly agape. “I’ve never felt so horny in my life, I swear, baby. Gonna lose my fucking mind.”

Your hands found his, which were placed on your thighs, nails digging into his skin to anchor yourself to something because his cock was sliding perfectly between your folds now — not inside, not yet, but dragging against your clit just right, like he knew exactly what he was doing.

Rafe kept going, grinding in little circles, panting above you with a wild look in his eyes. “You feel that? How hot you are for me?” He groaned. “I’m not gonna last like that, baby. I swear to God, I’m already— fuck, I might cum from just looking at you.”

You moaned his name, high and breathy, rolling your hips up to meet his. The friction was heaven. Fucking filthy, wet heaven. Your panties were soaked, his cock glistening with probably the mix of his spit and your juices, and you were both losing control with every passing second.

“Can’t—I can’t take it anymore, I need to feel you.” You managed to choke the words out of you, eyes glazy and barely focused. You reached for him with your hands, grabbing his neck and pulling him on top of you, desperate to feel his weight, his breath on your skin, when you knew what he would do next.

Rafe reached down blindly, and just like before, he shoved your panties to the side again, but rougher this time, less teasing, as he was way too desperate to feel you clenching around him. His fingers barely fumbled because he was more confident with your body now, feeling like he knew exactly what you needed and how to make you feel good. And the second the slick folds of your pussy were bared to him, he let out the most desperate, broken sound you’d ever heard.

“God, baby— please, please, can I?” He whispered, forehead pressed to yours, breath stuttering as he lined himself up, holding his cock at your soaked hole and waiting for your permission. “It’s gonna be so good.” He groaned, barely holding back. “You’re gonna let me fuck you with them on, pretty girl? Gonna let me fill you so nice and full without anything? God, you’re soaked…”

You nodded. Didn’t even care if you were supposed to ask him to wear a condom like you did before. Your whole body was craving him raw and without any barriers, so you were happier to be on the pill than ever before. He bit his lip, groaning and probably sharing the same thought that you did and then he pushed in.

One thrust — slow and teasing, just the head, just enough to stretch you, make your mouth drop open, and your eyes flutter shut.

“Oh my God.” He choked, trembling, holding himself back by a thread, as his head fell forward near yours on the pillow. “You’re so warm— I swear, I’m gonna cum just from the way you squeeze me like this.”

Rafe eased in further, your panties still bunched to the side, waistband digging into your thigh. Everything was messy, from your soaked panties to the kiss that he pulled you in with you both moaning in each other’s mouths and to the way his hips were sloppily slamming into yours.

You gasped, wrapping your legs around him, pulling him deeper. He thrust deep, fast, and desperately now, the room echoing with skin-on-skin and ragged moans, his free hand holding your throat just enough to make your head dizzy. 

Every time Rafe bottomed out, you swore you could see stars, and he never took his eyes off you, even when they rolled back for a second, even when his rhythm started to stutter. His cock was slamming into you with full force, the tip brushing your cervix with each thrust, and for you it felt like too much and not enough all at once. 

“I’m so fucking close.” He groaned, slamming his hips forward, pressing his thumb at the side of your neck until your eyes rolled back. “Gonna fill you up, fu-u-uck— not even gonna pull out. Gonna ruin your pretty pussy and your panties, baby.”

His hips jerked, his whole body shuddered, and he buried his face in your neck as he came hard, spilling into you with a deep, guttural moan. You felt every pulse, every twitch, every second of it, and it sent you absolutely spiraling, making your own orgasm crash over you in a dizzying wave. You whined and moaned his name, dragging your nails down his back and pulsing around his cock so much he swore he could’ve come the second time. 

Your body went limp, blood pumping in your ears, feeling the sticky mess covering your pussy and the inside of your thighs, as well as the thin layer of sweat all over your body. Rafe nestled comfortably on top of you, grounding you with his weight, covering the side of your neck with barely noticeable kisses. 

For a few minutes the room was deadly silent, and neither of you wanted to speak and ruin that moment. But then Rafe slowly rolled over to the side, pulling you with him in order for you to face him. Your cheeks were burning. You tried to bury your head against his shoulder, but Rafe caught your chin between his fingers, gently turning your face toward him.

“Don’t go all shy on me now.” He murmured, voice low and warm and still a little breathless. “You just let me fuck the soul out of you. Think I earned at least one look.”

You let out a soft, embarrassed laugh, avoiding his eyes even as your body curled closer. “That was… I’ve never—” You shook your head, biting your lip. “I’ve never done that before.”

Rafe’s expression instantly shifted into something softer, blue eyes roaming over your face. You bit your lip at the sight of him looking like that—flushed, slightly damp hair and that sheepish, boyish smile on his face.

“Me either.”

You blinked up at him, surprised, but you saw that he was not lying, that the whole thing that just happened affected him the same way. “Swear to God.” Rafe ran his fingers down your side, slow and lazy, like he never wanted to stop touching you. “I’ve had sex, but that? Shit, that was… different.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, didn’t know how to calm down the freaking butterflies in your stomach from his words, his touch, his look. You traced your fingers along the slope of his collarbone, feeling the thrum of his heartbeat still going hard under his skin. “You’re staring.” You whispered, your voice barely above a breath.

“So are you.” Rafe said back, smirking.

You tried to look away again, but he didn’t let you. Rafe’s hand slid to the small of your back, pulling you in until there was nothing between the two of you, until the only thing you could focus on, again, was him.

“I mean it, though.” He murmured, brushing his nose against yours. “The effect you have on me? You’re dangerous. Fuckin’ ruined me.” You smiled, shy but happy, and tucked your face into the crook of his neck, feeling safer than you ever had in your life.

Another long silence passed, much more comfortable this time, with just both of you enjoying the feeling of each other and not ready yet to stand up and clean the mess.

But of course, Rafe and his mouth couldn’t stay quiet forever.

“Also.” He added, voice low and smug. “Gonna need you to wear those stupid little cotton panties every time now. Pretty sure I came harder because they had flowers all over ‘em”

You smacked his chest with a laugh, mortified. “Rafe!”

“What?” He grinned with that usual, cocky smirk, now way too full of himself. “You think lace is hot? Nah. Give me cute prints and my shy girlfriend who gets embarrassed about them, and I’m fucking feral.”

You groaned and hid your face again while he laughed, wrapping both arms tight around you and kissing the top of your head. He whispered into your hair, still grinning and enjoying your reaction.

It was already past afternoon when the sun started getting lower and setting the wild trails far away from Figure Eight in that warm and golden color. The trees all around you looked giant and intimidating with the way they were moving softly high in the sky with the soft breeze. 

You, Sarah, and Kie decided on a whim to hike out to the old lookout point near the bluffs—a spot Sarah swore had the best view of the sunset and where she and Rafe used to go when they were younger and the world didn’t set them apart. 

JJ, John B, and Pope needed to do something they swore was mega important on almost the other end of the island, and knowing them, Cleo volunteered to go there and make sure that they stayed out of trouble. So there were the three of you, almost in the middle of nowhere, with backpacks full of snacks and water and, well, just too much optimism about the “easy” trail and a promising view at the end. 

You all walked at a steady pace, talking about Sarah’s latest little fight with John B, while you looked around with awe and relished the peace and fresh air. The path turned rocky; the big roots of the old trees peeked out from the ground here and there. You tried to step carefully, looking down and not rushing to not trip over your own feet, but in one moment something went wrong. 

You didn’t even know what actually grabbed your attention or why you suddenly got distracted, but the second you did, you felt your feet sliding down the slippery and moss-covered root, making your ankle twist in a way that shot a hot-white pain through you. 

“Shit— ow, ow, ow!” You gasped when your body fell on the ground, almost in agony. Reaching out for the source of pain instinctively, you hissed when your fingers trailed the already swelling place on your leg. The girls turned at the sound, instantly crouching in front of you with worried and scared eyes. 

“Oh God, what happened?” Sarah reached out carefully, hand hovering just above your leg so as not to hurt you. 

You blinked away the sudden tears in your eyes, which appeared before you could even notice it. “I— Fuck, I slipped on something. It hurts so badly, and I think it’s starting to swell.”

Kie twisted your leg carefully, examining the damage. “Can you put a weight on it?” 

You tried to place your foot on the ground, barely even touching it, yet your vision instantly blurred from the pure and agonizing pain. 

“Nope. Nope, definitely not.”

The three of you stared at each other in dawning horror. The trail back to the main road was long, not to mention that then you had to find a way to get back home because you decided that a half-hour walk from Tanneyhill to here would be a great warm-up. A stupid decision, you now thought. The boys would probably take forever to get there, and by the time they would be able to find you in an unknown territory, it would already be dark. 

Sarah stood up, pulling out her phone and biting her thumb while she was thinking. “I could call dad, but he said he has a meeting today. Rose… she’s like totally useless.” She hesitated, before looking at you with expression that you though was somewhere between guilt and pity. You didn’t like that. “There one other person, who can get here fast and who know the place…”

“Rafe.” You said it flatly, and she nodded, while Kie scoffed and rolled her eyes beside you. 

Sarah winced. “He owes me, and he knows these paths better than I do since he liked to hide here all the time. Plus…” Her voice dropped, like she was not sure whether it was okay to say it or not. “He’s weirdly not awful to you. Like, he tolerates you more than anyone else.”

“Tolerates. Such high praise.” You snorted despite the throbbing feeling in your ankle. 

But you knew that there was truth behind it. You and Sarah were inseparable since you both were twelve, and all that time Rafe had no other choice but to have you around, especially during sleepovers at Tanneyhill. He had grown up watching you two, always grumbling something about you being insufferable together, yet… not actually doing anything to avoid you or scare you away. Instead, over time he started watching his tone when you were around. When the random dudes got too handsy and weird at the parties, he told them to fuck off. Once, he gave you his hoodie when someone spilled a drink all over your shirt. Another time he gave you a lift when you had no other way to get back home. 

He watched out for you—subtly, carefully, never letting you know that he was caring or paying attention. 

He never explained himself, and you never asked. 

So asking him, of all people, to come and play some kind of savior for you? Yeah, that seemed totally ridiculous. 

“He will be angry. Or just laugh and ignore it.” You sighed, dropping your head back and trying to even your breathing when the pain mixed with the sudden anxiety started pooling low in your stomach. “Or probably both.”

“Yeah, he literally called me a weirdo hippie the last time we saw each other.” Kie rolled her eyes, plopping down beside you with a grunt.

You laughed. “And before that you called him a freak because you thought he was following us.”

“Okay, I’m calling.” Sarah merged in while she was walking around you with an extended hand and trying to find a better signal. 

A few long minutes had passed before you heard long dials, feeling suddenly sick and, if it was possible, even more nervous about the whole situation.

“What?” Rafe’s voice came out sharply, like he was already annoyed with Sarah’s call. 

“Hey, Rafey.” Sarah said sweetly, using the nickname he absolutely despised. “We need a favor.”

“I’m busy.” He said after a long pause, and you could imagine him rolling his eyes or pinching the bridge of his nose.

“We’re kinda stuck on these trails away from the Figure Eight. Y/N twisted her ankle, like pretty badly, and she can’t walk. Me and Kie can’t carry her.” 

Silence, then a long sigh. You bit your lip, wincing and waiting for the worst. “You idiots. Why the hell did you even go there? After the fucking rain and without telling anyone?”

“Can you come? Please?” Sarah ignored his lectures, using her best not-annoyed voice. “We’re like… two miles away from the east access point.” 

“Fine.” He muttered. “But if it’s a joke, I swear—“

“It’s not.” Sarah interrupted. “Thanks.”

He hung up the phone. 

You looked down at the ground, weirdly interested in the grass near you, feeling that your face was burning with embarrassment. 

Probably almost an hour later, when you already couldn’t feel your ass from sitting on the solid ground, while girls tried to distract you and cheer you up, you finally heard solid steps somewhere not too far away. 

Rafe appeared around the bend, wearing faded gray shorts, a blue shirt, and that perpetual scowl. His hair was messy from the wind, and he looked like he’d been interrupted mid-workout—or mid-nap—and wasn’t thrilled about it.

He took one look at the three of you and shook his head. “Un-fucking-believable. You three couldn’t go for a walk in the neighborhood like normal people?”

Sarah stood up. “Hi to you too.”

He ignored her, looking straight at you, and you swore you saw the instant change in his eyes—maybe concern, maybe relief—but you could’ve just imagined that. He walked closer, crouching in front of you. 

“Show me.” 

You hesitated, but his eyes weren’t angry or accusing; you slowly and carefully lifted your injured leg off the ground. Rafe’s fingers, surprisingly gentle and careful, examined your ankle, touched the swollen place, then ever-so-slightly twisted it. You hissed, nails digging into your thigh from the pain. 

“Easy.” He murmured. “Don’t think that it’s broken, probably just a bad sprain. You tried putting something cold on it?”

“No ice in the wilderness, Rafe.” Kie scoffed from behind him. 

“No shit. There’s no ice when you’re irresponsible enough to go out here without a fucking first aid kit.” He looked back over his shoulder at Kie and his sister, making them both roll their eyes. Probably for the hundredth time. “Where are your other Boy Scouts, anyway?”

“They are busy on the other side of the island and couldn’t come.”

“Of course. Useless per usual.” He gently placed your leg back on the ground, standing up. “What if a storm rolled in? Or if there was no service?”

“Okay, we get it, Dad.” Sarah sighed, pointing back at you. “Are you gonna help us or what?” 

“Not “us”, but her. You two can figure it out yourselves.”

“Asshole.” Kie grumbled.

“Shut up.” Rafe snapped back, but there was no actual heat in it.

Then he crouched again, turning his back to you and looking at you over his shoulder. “Get on.”

You blinked stupidly. “What?”

“Get on my back. Before I change my mind and leave you here.”

Your heart slammed against your ribs, mouth suddenly dry. Rafe Cameron—Rafe—was offering to piggyback you. The same Rafe who once called you “Sarah’s annoying shadow.” The same Rafe whose hand you’d accidentally brushed in their kitchen once and felt like it electrocuted you—you were scared to even look at him after that.

You swallowed. “I… I don’t want to hurt you. Or make it weird.”

He glanced over his shoulder again, blue eyes narrowed but softer than usual. “You’re not heavy. And it’s already weird. Just get on before I drag you.”

“I thought you were going to just…” You stopped yourself. 

“Going to what?” 

“…I don’t know.” You mumbled after a few seconds because, literally, what else were you expecting to happen? Him teleporting you back home? 

“Mhm, exactly. Now move.”

You looked back at your friends, Kie with a frown on her face and Sarah looking like she was trying to hold back a smile and failing miserably, who then nodded in agreement with Rafe.

With a shaky breath and a grunt of pain you tried to swallow down, you shifted forward. Your arms tentatively landed on his shoulders, your chest just barely touched his back, trying to keep space in between your bodies. Rafe’s hands touched your thighs, then slid under your knees when he tried to place you comfortably and gently on his back to not disturb your foot. 

He stood up easily, readjusting your position and gripping your legs a little bit tighter. You tried to stop the fluttering in your chest that made your neck and face burn from the skin-on-skin contact. 

He made a frustrated groan. “You’re gonna fall off like that. Lean in, dumbass. I’m not gonna drop you.” 

That was actually the last thing you were thinking about. 

“I—okay.” 

You pressed a big closer. Your chest meeting the solid warmth of his back. Arms slid just a bit lower—enough to loop around his neck, but not enough to choke or make too much contact. 

Rafe nodded like he was still not satisfied with your position but let it slide just for now. He told the girls to carry your bags, follow him, and look where they were stepping in that annoyed yet protective way only Rafe Cameron could master. 

He started walking, moving steadily like there was no weight on his back. Carefully enough to not disturb your leg or let you hit any low-hanging branches. Sarah and Kie were somewhere behind you, seemingly far enough that you could barely understand what they were talking about. The pain in your ankle was a bit duller now, or maybe you were just too aware of the situation, and your mind pushed it somewhere aside just for now. 

The heat of his body seeped to you through the thin material of your clothes. The unmistakable smell of his cologne—something warm, woody, and expensive—invaded your senses. With the way you were seated, you swore you could see and feel the way his muscles moved with every step, making it way too hard to focus on anything else. 

You tried to hold yourself still, your posture stiff and detached, to not make it seem too weird or too intimate. Because touching Rafe Cameron, being so close to him, wasn’t something that you allowed yourself to think about. And this was just a favor—nothing more, nothing less. 

Just a few minutes after, your back started killing you from an awkward and way too rigid position. You wiggled slightly, pulling backwards, making Rafe adjust and grip under your legs tighter to hold you still. 

“Stop fighting it.” He grumbled low enough that only you could hear it.  “You’re yanking me off balance.” 

“Sorry.” Your voice sounded small and hesitant.

“Just… relax. Lean against me properly. Wrap your hands tighter if you need to. I got you, I promise.” He said it a bit softer, barely slowing down his rhythm.

Your heart stuttered. Slowly, you forced your body to comply—you leaned forwards, now fully leaning against his back, letting your hands wrap a bit tightly around his neck with your fingers feeling the solid muscles on his shoulders. Your cheek rested on your own forearm just mere inches from his own face, in a position that gave you a perfect opportunity to stare at his side profile up close. 

You exhaled deeply as the last remaining tension bled out of you. 

“There.” He hummed, almost gently. “That’s better.” 

You nodded. “Yeah. Thanks, Rafe.”

He didn’t reply right away. Just kept walking, pace steady. Sarah and Kie trailed behind, talking softly, giving you space. You felt yourself getting sleepy from the motion and smell that fully enveloped you until Rafe just barely turned his head. His soft blue eyes caught yours instantly, and with the way your heart started pounding against your ribs, you swore he could feel it too, because he was close—way too close to be innocent and normal. 

“How’s your leg?” He looked away, focusing back on the trail.

“Um, it’s okay. Pulsating, but bearable.” 

“You scared me there.”

“I did?” You furrowed, stunned.

“Yeah.” Rafe nodded once, voice lower. “When Sarah called me and said you couldn’t walk.” 

“Oh… I thought I annoyed you.” You laughed even if admitting it out loud stung something deep in you—something you couldn’t name. “I thought you would be mad and tell us to deal with it ourselves.”

“You do annoy me, but like… in a good way. I wouldn’t leave you here, especially hurt, you know that?” Rafe’s voice suddenly sounded serious when he side-eyed you to catch your reaction.

You hesitated. “I guess now I do.” Your fingers tightened on his shoulder ever so slightly, and you swore you saw a soft smirk forming on Rafe’s lips before silence fell around you again. 

When fifteen minutes later you saw a familiar view of the parking lot, Rafe suddenly shifted you slightly higher on his back, grip steady and firm on your legs. Protective. 

“You owe me.” He said gruffly. 

“Name it.” 

The silence seemed heavy when Rafe hesitated to say something back to you. Your eyes studied the side of his face again, now a bit more openly, seeing the way he stared right ahead of him, yet it seemed like the answer sat heavy on his tongue and he couldn’t bring himself to say it. 

The trail slowly flattened out into the gravel of the parking lot, and you finally saw Rafe’s dark blue SUV sitting lonely under the tree and the fading orange light of the sky. 

“Dinner.” It came out so suddenly you thought you imagined it. Your breath caught.

“Not like some fancy bullshit at the Figure Eight or whatever.” He added quickly, suddenly almost tripping over his own words. “Just something nice. Without others. You can pick any place if you want. Or I can. I mean—whenever you’re not hobbling around like a baby deer.” 

It wasn’t a question, and it wasn’t a demand either. Like Rafe said it in a way that made an easy escape just in case you said no or laughed at the idea. Your mind just went blank for a moment, because there was no way he actually meant what you just heard. 

Your face went hot, your brain suddenly very aware of how tightly you were pressed against him and how his fingers twitched under your legs as if from nerves. 

“…Diner.” You repeated, slowly, catching the way his jaw clenched. 

“Yeah.” He shrugged one shoulder like it was no big deal, but you felt the tension in his frame. “You owe me. That’s the price.”

You bit your lip so hard you tasted blood. “Okay.” You said before you could overthink it into oblivion. “Dinner. Deal.”

Rafe didn’t say anything else, but you felt the corner of his mouth twitch against your forearm.

When you finally reached the car, Rafe let you carefully slide off his back. You landed on your good leg, but the moment you did, he turned around and lifted you up again—this time in bridal style. 

You tried to protest, but the girls came into the view, talking about him being way too fast while they got in the back seat of the car, seemingly not paying attention to the position you were currently in. 

Rafe maneuvered you slowly, opening the passenger door with one hand and placing you down carefully. He crouched beside you, adjusting your leg and making sure that you were comfortable. 

“Try to not put any pressure on it.” You just nodded, because the words were stuck in your throat. 

To make things worse, Rafe leaned over you, his shoulder brushing your chest, when he reached for the seatbelt and clicked it into place, his fingers brushing your thigh. Your eyes flicked up when your breath caught in your throat, and for a second he froze too, just looking down at you. 

Your heart dropped into your stomach, face heating under his gaze once again. When Rafe finally moved away and closed the door, you closed your eyes just to pull yourself together. 

He sat in the driving seat, and the car roared to life. The girls were whispering something in the back, completely oblivious to the tension between you and Rafe. 

He tried to keep his focus on the road, not letting himself get too distracted with you. But your presence affected him in a way he couldn’t explain, and his eyes flickered to you every few minutes. 

Your hand rested near the console in between your seats. Rafe’s hand, restless, found a place there too—close enough that you could feel his warmth. You stared straight ahead, pretending to watch the trees blur past. Your fingers twitched, and the next moment his hand touched yours—barely, way too timid at first. But when you didn’t pull away, his pinky wrapped around yours. 

You still looked out of the window. No reaction on your face, even if inside everything was burning. 

Ten minutes later he pulled outside of your house, and before Rafe could even kill the engine, Sarah leaned forward in between two front seats, looking at Rafe with a twinkle in her eyes. His hand shot away from yours. 

“You should take her home, Rafe. Me and Kie will wait here, yeah?” She looked back at Kie encouraging her to agree. Rafe’s eyes bored into yours, looking at your reaction. 

“Fine, but don’t touch anything in here. Don’t want you two rummaging through my shit.” He grumbled, unfastening his seatbelt. 

“Bruh, wouldn’t touch anything with a three-foot pole. Don’t even want to know what freaks like you even do in their cars.” Kie’s face twisted when she folded her arms, trying to take up as little space as possible. 

Rafe’s jaw clenched. “Shut up before I drop you off on the street and make you walk back home.” 

“Could you both stop?”

Rafe glared at you, but neither of them said anything else. Rafe hopped out of the car, while you opened the door and tried to step on the ground safely, but he was at your side in a second—sliding one of his hands under your legs and placing the other one on your back. 

You made a soft gasp, hands wrapping around his neck involuntarily to hold yourself back from falling. 

“Rafe… I can do it myself. It’s not that far.” You protested, embarrassed that he had to carry you around for the third time today. 

“Don’t want you to hop around like a flamingo.” He pressed your body closer to his, leaving no room for any protests from you. Your head dropped lazily against his shoulder in surrender, as you used an opportunity to stare at him again, and from this position you were able to notice the faint freckles on the bridge of his nose and cheeks. You nuzzled closer, hiding a smile. 

Rafe reached the door in a few long steps, taking your keys and fidgeting with the lock until the door opened in front of you. 

The house was dark and quiet; your mom was still probably at work and oblivious to your little trip; the soft scent of candles and something weirdly yours filled Rafe’s lungs, and he breathed in deeply like he couldn’t get enough. It was the first time he went further than the front steps when a few times he dropped things that you accidentally left in Tanneyhill. 

You guided him through the house, insisting again that you can go upstairs yourself and meeting with the same response as before. Rafe finally entered your room, carefully placing you on the bed and looking around for a pillow to rest your foot on, but also stealing glances at the interior around. The books on the table, your heels on the floor near the dresser, a giant mirror with photos tucked into the corners of the frame, and plushies all over your bed. It was cozy, warm, felt so lived in, and tugged at something deep inside him—something that made him want to stay just a bit longer. 

Rafe got the ice from downstairs, towering over the bed to arrange everything.

“Here.” He murmured, covering your ankle with a packet of ice that made you wince but feel some kind of relief at the same time. “Keep it elevated. Ice for twenty minutes. Don’t put any pressure on your leg, okay? You can text me if you need anything.”

“Okay.” You looked up at Rafe, your voice barely above a whisper. He nodded, his hand lingering on your leg a few moments longer than necessary before taking a few steps back. “Thank you.”

The tension was so heavy when your eyes were locked on each other. You knew he wanted to say something more, seeing the way his lips parted and his hand flew out almost nervously to rub the back of his neck. 

But then he just nodded, jaw tight, and turned away to leave. 

Fuck it. 

You moved before your brain could scream at you and convince you to stop. Rafe’s name slipped softly from your lips, the ice pack falling down on the floor with a heavy thud when you jumped up on one leg. 

“What the hell are you—” Your hands grabbed his shirt the moment Rafe turned around, tugging him closer and down to your level. 

Your lips touched his. Rafe groaned in surprise, stiff as steel against you, but the moment you pulled away and looked at him—embarrassed, mortified that you read it all wrong—he moved forward. 

Rafe’s right hand held your face, the other one steadied you at your waist to help you stand on one leg. He loomed over you, fully enveloping you with his broad form, and finally kissing you the way he meant to for a long time—greedily, messily, like it was still not enough to satisfy him. 

You both pulled back after a while, staring at each other and smiling the moment the reality hit you. Rafe tugged you closer, for the first time feeling he had permission to hold you against him and relish the moment.

“I don’t mind this type of payment, but you won’t wiggle your way out of the dinner, y’know?” He teased, smiling, against your temple. Your hands found their place on his shoulders and squeezed softly. 

“Yeah, just… felt like doing it.” You whispered. 

Rafe finally laughed, backing you softly towards the bed with a strong hand around you. He arranged everything again—your foot up on the pillows, ice pack—and then leaned over you, hands pressed on both sides of your hips, face just inches away from yours. 

“Next time, just ask.” He murmured before kissing you again—now, slowly, tenderly, taking his sweet time to taste you. “I’ll text you later.”

“Okay.” 

When he left, you fell back against the pillow, staring at the ceiling of your room and feeling like it all was a fever dream. The pain in your leg was now the last thing you thought about.

Your phone pinged beside you with a notification.

Sarah: you two TOTALLY kissed 

Sarah: he’s trying to hold back a smile, i swear 

You threw the phone down without an answer, covering your face with both hands and feeling that you couldn’t hold back a smile either. 

Maybe the day wasn’t as bad as you thought at first.

read part 2 here