𝑗𝑢𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑡

you're on rafe's bed scrolling through your phone when he walks in with that stupid smirk, holding something between his fingers.

"what," you say without looking up.

"so... topper gave me these." the mattress dips as rafe sits, his weight pulling you slightly toward him. you glance up and see the tiny golden honey packets catch the light as he turns them between his fingers.

you actually laugh. "oh my god, rafe. are you serious?" you sit up straighter, grinning at him. "those don't even work. you know that right?"

"nah, i mean—"

"it's honey... it's literally just honey in some fancy ass packet. topper probably paid like thirty bucks for two dollars worth of honey because some instagram ad told him it would turn him into a porn star." you're fully laughing now, years of giving each other shit making this easy. you reach out and flick one of the packets in his hand. "you actually believe that shit?"

"listen—" rafe tries, but there's that smile tugging at his mouth because he knows you're gonna dog him for this. he shifts closer, his knee bumping against your leg.

"no, seriously, i need to know how much money topper wasted on honey packets." you push at his shoulder, invested in roasting him. "remember those gas station dick pills he got last summer?"

"alright, alright—" rafe's laughing too, shaking his head, catching your hand before you can push him again. his fingers wrap around your wrist for just a second before letting go. "you're not wrong."

"i'm never wrong about topper being an idiot." you settle back against his pillows, satisfied, tucking your legs underneath you. "remember when he tried to convince us that eating raw garlic would make him better at golf? and then his breath just smelled like shit the whole time?"

"yeah, and you kicked him out of the car," rafe says, grinning, leaning back on one hand so he's angled toward you.

"because he made it smell so fucking bad. and you know what— now you're an idiot too for even believing this."

"yeah, but—" rafe pauses, something shifting in his eyes. he leans forward slightly, elbows on his knees, the packets still dangling from his fingers. "i mean... c'mon. if it doesn't work, then nothin' happens, right? like literally nothin'. we'd just be sittin' here exactly like we are now."

you narrow your eyes at him. "that's your argument?"

"i'm just sayin'..." he shrugs, still holding up one of the packets, close enough now that you can see the gold foil catching the light. "if it's bullshit... then it's bullshit and we laugh about how dumb topper is. but if it's not..." he trails off, that smirk getting wider as he tilts his head.

"it is bullshit."

"probably," rafe agrees, way too casual, shifting his weight so he's sitting fully on the bed now, one leg bent, facing you. "but... what's the actual harm? you gonna tell me you're scared of honey?"

"i'm not scared of honey, i'm just not gonna waste my time on some stupid—"

"so then try it. humor me," his voice is smooth and logical, like he's not actively trying to peer pressure you into this. he holds one of the packets out toward you, close enough that you'd only have to reach a few inches to take it. "seriously. worst case scenario? nothin' happens and you get to say 'i told you so' for the rest of the night. and you love that shit."

and you hate that he's right. you hate that that actually makes sense, because if it doesn't work then literally nothing happens. it's just honey. and you do love being right.

"this is so fucking dumb," you mutter, but you're already grinning because this is exactly the kind of stupid shit you two always end up doing together. you reach out and snatch the packet from his hand.

"yeah, probably." rafe's already tearing open a packet, squeezing the honey into his mouth like it's nothing. he swallows, then looks at you with this expectant expression, leaning in slightly. "c'monnn. prove me wrong."

"i will." you tear open your packet, very aware of how close he is, how he's watching you. the honey is sweet on your tongue, sticky as you swallow it down and look at him. "it's not gonna work."

"we'll see," rafe says, settling back against the headboard next to you, his arm brushing yours as he gets comfortable, but his eyes are still on you.

"yeah, we will," you say, going back to your phone. "and when nothing happens, you're buying me food for a week as an apology for wasting my time."

"deal," rafe says, and there's something in his voice that makes you think he's not worried about losing that bet at all.

twenty minutes later the heat starts low in your belly and spreads outward until your skin feels too tight and every nerve ending is awake. you shift and the seam of your shorts catches against you in a way that makes your breath hitch—suddenly you're aware of how wet you're getting, the fabric sticking to you, and every tiny movement makes it worse.

your thighs press together without you meaning to and the pressure sends a pulse of need straight through your core that's so intense you have to bite the inside of your cheek. you try to focus on your phone but the words blur together and all you can think about is the throbbing between your legs, the way your pussy is clenching around nothing, how the cotton of your shirt feels too rough against your nipples.

"you good?"

your phone nearly slips from your hands when he speaks and for a second you can't catch your breath.

"yeah, i'm fine." but your voice sounds all wrong—strained and slightly pitched up in a way that gives you away immediately.

he's silent for a moment but you can feel him looking and it makes your skin prickle with awareness, makes the heat worse.

"you sure?" there's amusement threading through his voice now, low and knowing. "i could've sworn you said it was bullshit."

"it is." you try to sound convincing but you're pressing your thighs together again and you know he can see it, can probably see the flush spreading down your neck. "it's definitely not working."

"yeah? then why are you squirmin' like that?"

your entire body goes rigid.

"i'm not squirming."

"you keep pressin' your legs together..."

"oh my god, shutupshutupshutup."

then his hand lands on your thigh and the touch burns through the thin fabric of your shorts, making your breath catch immediately, and you realize you're in trouble because just that simple contact makes you want to spread your legs and beg.

"relax, alright?" his thumb strokes back and forth and each pass makes the ache between your legs worse, makes you wetter. "just checkin' somethin'."

"checking what?"

"how full of shit you are."

his hand slides higher and your pussy throbs so hard you gasp—you can't help it, can't control the way your body responds to him. he stops with his palm resting on your inner thigh, his fingers so close to where you're dripping that you want to grab his wrist and shove his hand where you need it.

"rafe—"

"whattt," he mutters, all innocence, but you can hear the smugness underneath. "thought it wasn't workin'."

"it's not." but you're shaking and your voice is barely there.

his thumb strokes your inner thigh again and you feel his breath against your ear, warm and close. "but you're breathin' all hard..." his fingers brush the edge of your shorts and you can't stop the whimper that escapes because you need more, need him to touch you properly or you're going to lose your mind.

"shut up."

his fingers trace the hem and it feels like you're going to die if he doesn't touch you properly, if he keeps teasing like this. "you want me to stop?"

"no." it comes out immediately and you want to take it back but then his hand slides up and cups you through your shorts and the pressure makes your hips jerk forward into his palm without permission.

"jesus—you're fuckin' drenched."

you are—you can feel how wet you are, how the fabric is clinging to you, and when he presses harder you feel the slickness spread and it should embarrass you but all you can think about is getting his hand closer.

then he's yanking you toward him and suddenly you're straddling his lap and his cock is right there beneath you, thick and hard and pressing up against your pussy through too many layers of fabric. you grind down without thinking and the friction makes you gasp because it's not enough but it's something.

his hands grip your hips and guide you to move against him again and the drag of his cock against your clit through your shorts makes your head fall back, makes you chase that pressure desperately.

"look at you." his voice is strained, rougher than before. "still waitin' for you to admit it was legit."

"shut up." you grind against him harder, chasing the pressure, and his fingers dig into your hips hard enough to bruise but you don't care because you need more.

his hand slides up your back into your hair and tugs and the sharp pull makes you gasp. his other hand moves between your bodies and presses against you through your shorts and you're so sensitive that even that makes you whimper, makes your hips roll forward seeking more contact.

"please..." you hear yourself say it and you don't even care anymore.

"please what?" he's enjoying this but his voice is rough, barely controlled. "what d'you want?"

"please touch me."

he pulls your shirt off and then your shorts and suddenly the air hits your wet pussy and you're exposed and aching and vulnerable. his hand slides between your legs and his fingers stroke through your folds and you shudder at the contact, at finally feeling his skin against you.

"jesus—" his voice cracks and you look down to see him staring between your legs like he's never seen anything like it. "you're fuckin' drenched."

his fingers run through the wetness and when he pulls his hand back you can see how they're coated, strings of it connecting his fingers to you, and he stares at it like he's mesmerized. the sight makes you clench around nothing, makes you need him inside you.

"look at this mess—" then his fingers find your clit and you stop breathing because the pressure is perfect and you're grinding into his hand desperately, chasing the sensation.

you're making these sounds you can't control—gasping and moaning—and you don't even care anymore because his fingers feel so good and you're so close already.

"there you go." his other hand is palming himself through his sweatpants and you can see how hard he is, can see the outline of his cock straining against the fabric. "listen to yourself—"

then his fingers slow down and barely touch you and you whine at the loss, at the sudden absence of pressure.

"what was that thing you said?" his voice is rough and his hips jerk forward into his own hand like he can't help it. "about instagram ads?"

"rafe please—"

his fingers push inside you—two at once—and you clench around them immediately, your pussy trying to pull them deeper because you need more. he curls them and presses against that spot and your entire body jerks forward, a sharp cry tearing out of you.

"shit—you're so tight—" his hand is shaking where he's gripping your hip and you can feel how affected he is, how much he wants this.

he does it again and you cry out, your nails digging into his shoulders hard enough to leave marks. his thumb finds your clit while his fingers work inside you and you can't help but moan at the combination, at how good it feels to finally have him touching you like this.

"you want more?"

"ohmy—pleaseyes—"

"c'mon, ask me nice."

"pleaseplease i need more—"

"yeah? need what?"

"your mouth." it comes out desperate and broken. "need your mouth on me."

he groans and the sound is all raw and broken like just hearing you say the words is fueling him, like he's been waiting to hear it. he pulls his fingers out and brings them to his mouth and sucks them clean and watching his eyes roll back makes something flip in your stomach because he looks needy for it already.

then he's pushing you down onto your back and the sheets are cool for half a second before his hands are spreading your thighs wide and his mouth is on you and—

your back arches off the bed before you can stop it. a sharp gasp tears out of you and your hands fly to his hair, gripping tight because you need something to hold onto. the groan he makes vibrates straight through your clit and you whimper, your hips bucking up involuntarily.

his tongue pushes inside you and you weren't expecting that—weren't expecting the wet heat of it or how deep he'd go or the obscene sound it makes when he does. your hips jerk up and he groans again, louder this time, like he's the one being overwhelmed.

you look down and oh god—

his face is buried between your legs, his jaw working as his tongue moves inside you, and his chin is already shiny and dripping with you. when his eyes flick up to meet yours there's something feral in them, something you've never seen before. this isn't calm, collected rafe who always has a smirk and a comeback ready. this is rafe completely undone, his pupils blown so wide his eyes look black, his mouth slack and wet and desperate as he stares at you like he's starving.

but that's not what makes you forget how to breathe.

his other hand is palming himself through his sweatpants, his hips grinding forward into his own hand in these short, desperate thrusts, and you can see the outline of his cock straining against the fabric—thick and hard and so obvious it's obscene. there's already a wet spot forming where he's leaking through and you can't stop staring, can't stop noticing how his shoulders are trembling, how his free hand is gripping your thigh so hard you know there'll be bruises, how his breathing is ragged and uneven against your pussy.

rafe was always so controlled, always the one with the upper hand, the one who stayed calm no matter what. but right now he looks frantic, completely gone, and it's because of you.

you want to touch him, want to wrap your hand around his cock and feel the weight of him and taste him and watch him fall apart under your mouth the way you're falling apart under his.

then his tongue drags up through your folds so slow like he's savoring the taste and the thought dissolves into nothing.

"oh—" you gasp and your hips buck up, seeking more. "oh god—"

he does it again—licks you from your entrance all the way up to your clit and then circles it with his tongue, teasing—and you whimper. your hands tighten in his hair and you pull him closer without meaning to and he groans like that's exactly what he wanted, like he needs you to use him.

"you taste—" he pulls back just enough to breathe and his voice is completely shot, wrecked in a way you've never heard before. his hand is still working himself, his hips still jerking forward. "so fuckin' good—"

then his mouth is back on you and his fingers push inside—two, then three—and the stretch makes you cry out because he's not gentle, he's messy and desperate, his tongue lapping at your clit while his fingers curl inside you. the wet sounds should embarrass you but you're too far gone to care, too focused on the way he's devouring you.

"listen to that—" his voice is muffled against you and you can feel his lips moving, can feel the vibration. "so fuckin' messy—"

his hand is still working himself and his hips are still grinding forward and you can see how badly he's shaking, can see his jaw tighten and his eyes squeeze shut for a second like he's trying to hold himself together. when they open again and lock on yours they're needy and pleading and desperate.

he's looking at you like he's memorizing you—his gaze drags up from where his mouth is on you, over your stomach, your tits, your mouth. he's staring at your face like he needs to see every reaction, every gasp, every time your eyes flutter closed, and the intensity of it makes your breath catch.

"rafe—" your voice breaks and you can barely get the words out. "oh my god—"

he pulls back just enough to breathe and his chin is dripping, his lips swollen and shiny and his pupils are so blown you can barely see the blue. "y'gonna cum for me?"

then his mouth seals around your clit and sucks hard and his fingers curl inside you and press against that spot and everything goes white.

"yes—fuck—yes—"

it hits you and your entire body convulses, your hands gripping his hair so tight it has to hurt but you're pulling him closer as your hips buck up against his face. you're sobbing his name and he doesn't pull away—he keeps his mouth on you through all of it, drawing it out, groaning against you like he can't get enough, his hips still grinding into his hand like watching you come is almost enough to make him lose it too.

when he finally pulls back his face is a mess—his chin is shiny and dripping, his lips swollen and red. his hand leaves his cock and you can see how hard he is, the outline obscene against his sweatpants, a wet spot spreading where he's leaking, and suddenly you need to taste him, need to make him fall apart the way he just made you fall apart.

"my turn."

you're pushing him before he can react and he's so surprised he lets you flip him onto his back, his eyes going wide as you move down his body, your hands already reaching for his sweatpants.

"wait—"

"shut up." you yank his sweatpants down and his cock springs free and jesus christ—it's thick and flushed dark, curving up toward his stomach, pre-cum dripping steadily from the slit. you watch it drip down his shaft and your mouth waters because you need to taste him.

"fuck—" his voice cracks when your hand wraps around him and he's so hard, so hot in your palm, and when you stroke up his entire body jerks like he's been electrocuted. "oh fuck—"

you lean down and lick the pre-cum from his tip and the taste of him—salty and clean and him—makes you moan. his hips buck up and he whimpers, the sound high and broken.

"shit—wait—i can't—"

"yeah you can." you lick up his shaft, following the trail of pre-cum, and his hands fly to the sheets and grip tight, his knuckles going white.

you wrap your lips around the head and suck and the sound he makes is this half moan, half growl that goes straight between your legs. you take him deeper, hollowing your cheeks, and his cock throbs on your tongue, leaking more pre-cum.

"shit—" his voice is wrecked, barely recognizable. "fuckin' love your mouth—"

you pull off with a wet pop and stroke him with your hand, watching more pre-cum leak from the tip, watching the way his abs flex and his hips jerk up seeking more. "god, you're so easy."

"yeah? so fuckin' what."

you take him deep again, as far as you can, and his hips thrust up involuntarily, pushing him deeper. you gag slightly but don't pull off, just relax your throat and take him deeper, and his hands fly to your hair.

"fuck—sorry—i'm sorry—" but he's not pulling you off, his fingers are tangling in your hair and holding you there and you moan around him because you want this, want him to lose control.

you pull off, spit connecting your lips to his cock, and pump him with your hand—fast and tight and slick. you take him deep again and this time when his hips thrust up you meet him, taking him into your throat. the groan he makes is almost anguished, desperate and raw, and you set a rhythm, bobbing your head, taking him as deep as you can while his hips start moving, fucking up into your mouth in shallow thrusts.

"oh fuck—oh fuck—" his voice is breaking, cracking on every word.

but then his hands are pulling you off and he's gasping, his chest heaving. "fuck—wait—i'm gonna—"

"that's the point."

"no—" he's pulling you up his body and his hands are shaking, trembling as they grip you. "not yet—need to fuck you."

his cock is pressed between your bodies, hot and slick and throbbing, and you can feel more pre-cum leaking onto your stomach. you grind against him and he groans, the sound pained.

"god—" you reach between your bodies and wrap your hand around him and stroke, feeling how hard he is, how much he's leaking. "you're shaking."

"yeah—" his voice breaks and his hips jerk up into your hand. "yeah i'm fuckin' shakin'—you have no idea—"

you position him at your entrance and sink down slowly and the stretch makes you both moan because he's so thick, filling you so completely, and from this angle he's so deep you can feel him everywhere.

"oh fuck—" his hands grip your hips hard enough to bruise and his entire body is trembling beneath you. "oh fuck you're tight—so. fuckin'. wet—"

you start moving and the slide of him inside you is perfect—you can feel every ridge, every vein, the way he throbs when you clench around him. you brace your hands on his chest and his heart is slamming against your palms, fast and erratic and out of control.

"look at you," you manage, even though you can barely breathe. "thought you were gonna be in control."

he thrusts up hard and the argument dies in your throat, replaced by a gasp.

"yeah?" his voice is strained, barely there. "you were sayin'?"

but you can see the flush spreading down his neck, the way his shoulders are tensed like he's holding himself back, and you know he's just as ruined as you are.

you ride him harder, faster, chasing the feeling building in your core. the wet sounds are so fucking obscene—slap slap slap, squelch squelch squelch—and you can feel your arousal dripping down his shaft, coating his balls, making everything slick and messy.

"fuckkkk—" he's watching where you're joined and his voice breaks, his jaw completely slack as he stares. you grind down in a circle and he whimpers, the sound all high and broken. "topper's never gonna believe this shit." he laughs—breathless and broken—and you feel it vibrate through his chest.

"are you seriously thinking about topper right now?"

"tryin' not to." you clench around him and watch his head tip back, his throat exposed, a groan tearing out of him that sounds almost pained. "but shit—you owe him a fuckin' thank you card."

the angle drives him so deep you feel it in your stomach and suddenly you're not thinking about topper anymore—you're thinking about the drag of his cock inside you, the wet sounds that match your rhythm, how his fingers are digging into your hips hard enough to leave purple marks.

his hand slides between your bodies and finds your clit and the pressure makes your movements stutter, makes you lose your rhythm because you can't focus on anything except the fullness of him stretching you and the tight heat building low in your belly.

"oh my god—"

"there you go." he mutters, voice all low and shaky, and you can see sweat dripping down his temples, can see his abs flexing with every thrust up into you. "'s what i wanna see."

you grind down and take him deeper and his hips jerk up to meet you and you're both slick with sweat now, your bodies sliding together. you can feel the heat radiating off him, can feel his other hand find your breast and squeeze, his palm damp against your skin.

"so full—" you gasp it out because you can barely form words. "can feel you everywhere—"

"yeah?" he thrusts up harder and you watch his biceps flex as he grips you tighter, watch the way his muscles coil. "y'like feelin' how deep i am?"

"yes—fuck yes—"

you roll your hips and he whimpers and you realize you're the one making him sound like that, you're the one unraveling him. his composure is completely gone—he's gripping you like he's drowning, his fingers digging in, and there's something raw in the way he's looking at you. pupils blown wide, mouth hanging open.

"you're so fuckin' tight." his hands grip your ass now and his fingers dig in hard enough to bruise, hard enough to sting. "you keep squeezin' me like that and i'm gonna—gonna cum."

"already?"

"shut up—you're the one who's—look at you—you can barely—" his voice breaks when you clench around him again and his jaw goes slack, his eyes rolling back. he's right though—you're gasping and your movements are getting frantic and his fingers find your clit again and suddenly you're close, so close you can feel it building.

"rafe—" your voice breaks and you can barely get his name out. "i'm gonna—"

"yeah?" his hips are bucking up desperately now and you can feel him throbbing inside you, can feel how close he is too. "do it—wanna feel you—need to feel it—"

his fingers work your clit in tight circles and you come so hard you're seeing stars, clenching around him in waves, your body convulsing as his hips buck up against you, prolonging it.

you're still moving, still riding him through it because you can't stop, and he's falling apart beneath you—his grip on you tightening, his breathing ragged. then his hands are gripping your hips hard and he's flipping you and you barely process the change before you're on your stomach and he's entering you from behind in one brutal thrust that makes you scream into the sheets.

"fuck—"

his arm hooks around your neck and he's pulling you back against his chest, fucking into you so hard you can barely think, can barely breathe. his forearm is solid against your throat, the weight of it holding you exactly where he wants you, and his other hand finds your clit and rubs tight circles. you're squirming against him, trying to escape the intensity but he's holding you so tight you can hardly move.

the sounds are so nasty—the wet slapping, the squelch with every thrust, your moans and his grunts mixing together.

"rafe—" you're gasping, barely able to form words. "it's too much—"

his hips snap forward hard and you feel his teeth graze your shoulder before biting down, his fingers pressing harder on your clit. "nah—c'mon you can take it."

"fuck—pleasepleaseplease—"

his next thrust goes so deep you can't breathe and your body goes rigid for a second before your back arches involuntarily, your ass pressing back into him hard enough that he groans. the angle sends everything white-hot through you and your thighs clench.

"ah—ah—fuck—" the sounds punch out of you with every thrust and you can't stop them. he sounds so fucking good right now. the way he's rutting into you like he's been wanting to do this, like he's finally letting himself have you, makes you even wetter.

"every. last. inch." his voice is low and rough in your ear. "just like this—"

"that's it—" his arm flexes around your neck and pulls you tighter against his chest. you can feel his collarbone digging into your shoulder blade, the solid heat of him pressed against every inch of your back. "fuck yourself back on my cock."

you do it without thinking, meeting his thrusts, and the angle makes him go even deeper. "oh god—fuck—you're so fucking deep—" your thighs are shaking.

"you like this?" his breath is hot against your ear and his voice is wrecked, barely controlled. "like me fuckin' you like this?"

"yesyesyes—" it comes out broken between thrusts.

"yeah?" he thrusts harder and you can hear how wet you are with every movement, can hear the obscene squelch. "listen to that—so fuckin' messy—drippin' all over me—"

your nails dig into his forearm and you feel the flex of muscle beneath your fingers, the way his tendons shift with every movement. his hips slow and grind deep instead of thrusting and you feel every inch of him, the pressure maddening, his cock dragging against that spongy spot inside you with every slow roll of his body.

"tell me i was right." his voice drops lower, more guttural, and his rhythm falters before he regains control and fucks into you with renewed desperation. you can feel the tension in his shoulders, the way his whole body is coiled tight.

"i—" you sob it and tears stream down your face because it's too much, because you can't think. "fuck—"

"say it." his hips slam forward hard enough to push you into the mattress. "say it. need to hear you say it."

"i was wrong—" you sob it out, your voice breaking. "okay? i was wrong—"

"that's not what i said." his arm flexes around your throat and his hips grind deep, so deep you feel it everywhere. "tell me i was right."

"god—fuck, you were right." you're clenching around him with every thrust, your body betraying you. "you were right about everything—"

"yeah i fuckin' was—" he groans against your neck and his control finally cracks, his hips snapping forward brutally now, chasing his release, his rhythm completely gone. you feel his arm tighten around your neck as he pulls you back onto him with each thrust and the angle shifts and suddenly he's hitting so deep you see stars. "you gonna remember that? gonna remember how good i fuck you?"

"yes—yes i'll remember—i'll never—forget it."

and just like that you're coming again, clenching around him so tight it's almost painful, gushing around him and soaking everything. and even still he's fucking you through it, his arm around your neck holding you in place.

"keep fuckin' takin' it—"

"i'm taking it—" you sob, tears streaming down your face. "fuck i'm taking it—"

his rhythm is erratic now and desperate and you can feel him getting harder inside you, the way his cock swells right before he comes, and you want it, need to feel him come inside you.

"wanna feel you—wanna feel you come inside me—"

then he's pulling out suddenly and flipping you again and you're on your back and he's on top and he's slamming back inside in one brutal thrust that makes you both cry out.

"look at me." his hand grips your jaw and forces you to meet his eyes and there's something desperate in them, something that feels vulnerable and unlike anything you've ever seen on his face. your heart clenches at the sight of it and you don't look away, not for a second. "need to see you."

he's pushing deep, deeper than before, and you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

"fuck—" his voice breaks and cracks. "fuck i'm gonna—i'm—"

then he's spilling inside you, his entire body locking up. you feel it—the first pulse of his cock, then another, then another. the heat of his cum flooding inside you, filling you, and it's so much. he's groaning your name against your neck—a sound that's almost anguished—and you can feel every pulse as he empties himself inside you, his hips jerking forward with each spasm like he can't help it, like his body is trying to get deeper even though there's nowhere left to go.

the sensation triggers something in you and suddenly you're coming again, clenching around him, milking him, taking every drop. you're sobbing as you come and rafe is holding you so tight, his arms wrapped around you, his fingers digging into your back.

you can feel his cum inside you, hot and thick, can feel it leaking out around his cock because there's so much. your pussy clenches again and he whimpers against your neck, the sound vulnerable and raw.

his movements slow and become gentle but you can still feel him throbbing inside you and the aftershocks running through both of you. his full weight settles on you and you can feel his heartbeat slamming against your chest—fast and erratic. sweat is cooling on your skin but inside you're still burning, still feeling the heat of him.

"je—" his voice is rough, barely there. "jesus fucking christ—"

he stops like there's something he was about to say and swallowed it. his face is buried in your neck and his arms are wrapped around you so tight you can barely breathe. you can feel his pulse against your collarbone where his throat presses into you.

you wonder what he was going to say.

you're both gasping for air and your legs are still wrapped around his waist, holding him close.

he's not pulling out—he's staying inside you and softening but still there, still connected. his full weight is pressing you into the bed and you can feel his cum leaking out around him, dripping down your thighs, making everything even messier. the sheets beneath you are soaked.

you can feel the honey packet still working through your system—the warmth that hasn't faded, the need is still there simmering under your skin.

you shift slightly and you feel him getting hard again almost immediately. he groans against your neck and the sound is surprised and almost pained.

"oh my god. already?"

your hips roll without meaning to and you feel him thickening inside you and he shudders, his arms tightening around you. you can feel the tension returning to his shoulders, the way his muscles coil.

"yeah."

you clench around his hardening cock and he makes this sound—half groan, half whimper.

he pulls back just enough to look at you and his hips press forward—a slow thrust that's all the way in that makes your breath catch. there's this look on his face, something softer than before like something changed between you. his hair is damp and sticking to his forehead and there's a flush spreading down his neck.

"told you."

but the teasing sounds different now—less about winning, more about something else. something you're not quite ready to admit yet.

you want to argue but he's grinding into you in slow circles that make your eyes flutter closed and your body is already desperate for more.

"oh fuck you."

but you're smiling. your legs wrap around his waist and pull him deeper and he laughs—soft and ragged—before his mouth finds yours.

he's kissing you—actually kissing you for the first time tonight. his lips are softer than you expected and he tastes like sweat and a little sweet from the honey. his tongue licks into your mouth, messy and urgent and perfect, the warmth of it making you melt into him. you're already grinding up into him and your hands are in his hair pulling him closer.

his hips start building a real rhythm again, slow at first but building, and you're so sensitive that every thrust makes you whimper into his mouth. his hand slides between your bodies, his fingers gently beginning to work your clit and you gasp into his mouth.

he pulls back just enough to look at you, his forehead pressed against yours, his voice low and rough.

"gonna fuck you all night."

𝐚/𝐧: i hope you guys like this one!! i'm ngl i'm kinda scared this one's gonna flop because i know people usually aren't as into the best friends to lovers trope as they are older!bf. i usually write things that have some kind of taboo element, and i really enjoy writing power imbalances and other weird shit like that, so this was definitely a step out of my comfort zone. i kept trying to figure out a best friends premise that didn't feel generic or boring, and i wanted to write a version of canon rafe that felt a little different without making him feel out of character. i hope you guys enjoy this version of him :) sometimes i like imagining season one rafe if he wasn't actively losing his shit lol.

Rafe hung up immediately, leaving no room for you to argue. You took a deep breath and walked to your closet. You smiled when you saw the dress he was talking about- all pretty and polka dotted with lace along the neckline and a bow in the middle. “It’ll be fine. I’ll be with Rafe. Who’s gonna say something to me while I’m with Rafe?” You thought to yourself as you slid your dress on. You finished getting ready and sat on your bed as you waited for your boyfriend.

When you heard him pull up, you made your way outside. You smiled when Rafe got out to open your door for you.

“Oh, thank you.” You took his hand and stepped up into his truck.

“Anything for my pretty lady.” Your face warmed at his compliment. You tried to relax but you were so nervous. It had been awhile since you were seen on Figure Eight and you and your friends didn’t exactly have the best track record with the Kooks. You hoped no one would really notice you, but you knew that would be nearly impossible when you were going to the Country Club with Rafe Cameron.

Rafe noticed your leg shaking and sighed. He rested a hand on your thigh and glanced at you. “Hey, you’re good, okay? I promise. You think I’d let anything happen to you, huh? Answer me.”

“No…” you muttered as you looked over at him. “I’m just nervous, Rafe. You know I’m not exactly… welcome at the Club.”

His jaw ticks at the mention of your friends but he decides now isn’t a good time to berate them. “Fuck that. You’re with me, not your little friends, alright? You’re okay. Nobody in here is gonna say shit to you.”

You let out a deep breath and nod your head. Rafe tells you he loves you and presses a quick kiss to your temple as he pulls into the parking lot. “Let’s go get some Mai Tais, yeah?”

⋆.ೃ࿔* ੈ✩˚₊ 𓆩♡𓆪 ･*:.｡.☆..｡.

The atmosphere felt more relaxed after your second Mai Tai. Rafe was animatedly telling you stories about his high school days as if you’d been complete strangers back then. You were trying to recover from laughing at him when he mentioned going to the bathroom.

You watched him walk away before turning your attention to the beautiful sunset outside. You smiled as you got up and went to take a picture to show Rafe.

As you walked, you ignored the whispers and stares from a group of older women who were sitting on the patio. You adjusted your purse on your shoulder and exhaled before holding your phone up and snapping a picture.

You didn’t acknowledge them as you walked back inside to your table, where Rafe was waiting for you. He smiled when he saw you coming back.

“I was wondering where you ran off to.” He reaches for your hand across the table as you get settled back in your seat.

“I just wanted to take a picture of the sunset. It looks so pretty!” You gushed as you opened your phone and turned it around to show him the picture.

“Damn, yeah. That’s beautiful, baby.” You nodded as you laid your phone down on the table, directing your full attention back to your boyfriend.

The two of you continued talking about anything and everything. You were actually starting to think maybe it wasn’t so bad over here.

Until someone cleared their throat beside you.

You and Rafe turned your heads and you smiled awkwardly when you realized it was the group of ladies from the patio.

“Can we help you?” Rafe asked. His eyebrows were furrowed in confusion as he scanned their faces, trying to see if he recognized any of them.

“Your little… girlfriend stole my wallet.” The lady spat. Your heart dropped to your stomach. Anxiety coursed through you like electricity.

“Excuse me?” Your boyfriend stood up. The lady took a step back as Rafe towered over her.

“You heard me, Rafe. She walked outside, pretending to take a photo of the sunset and swiped it.” She crossed her arms before walking right in front of you, crowding your space. “Give it back.”

“I-I don’t have your wallet.” You stuttered as tears formed in your eyes. “I promise.”

“Oh for Pete’s sake, security!” The older woman yelled.

Your eyes widened and your breathing became rapid as all eyes fell onto you. Your hands shook and your body trembled as two huge men began walking towards your table.

“Alright, this is a little unnecessary. Everybody just needs to calm down.” Rafe tried to step in between the two of you, but she stood firm. His nostrils flared as security finally reached you.

“Yes ma’am?” The taller man asked. The older woman sneered at you before speaking to him.

“This pogue took my wallet and she won’t give it back.”

“Is this true, ma’am?” Everyone was looking at you- Rafe, the security guards, the women- everyone.

“N-no! I would never do that! I promise!” You silently pleaded with Rafe to do something, but he was frozen.

“She would ‘never do that’ but didn’t her friends just get caught stealing a cross out of a train?” The shorter security guard muttered to his coworker. The taller man squinted and looked you up and down before speaking again.

“Empty your bag.” He said, a little too sternly for Rafe’s liking.

“Hey man, come on-“ Rafe tried but was shut down.

“Not now, Cameron. Empty your bag before I do it for you.” The security guard took one step closer to you and you snatched your bag up shakily before dumping the contents out onto the table.

When your wallet landed on the table, the guard snatched it up and inspected it. “Is this yours, ma’am?” He asked, making the older lady roll her eyes.

“Are you serious?” Her friends snickered behind her at your old, thrifted wallet.

He shrugged and threw it back on the table. “Well, I don’t see any other wallets, do you?”

The old lady snatched your bag up and shook it upside down. When nothing came out, she tossed it back on the table and let out a quiet “hmph.”

“Guess not.” The guards shrugged and walked away. Tears were streaming down your face as you looked towards Rafe.

“She clearly doesn’t have it, alright? Go back to your fuckin’ crochet and leave her alone.” The older ladies rolled their eyes and walked away, but not before whispering about how they “just know you have her wallet somewhere.”

“Hey, baby, talk to me.” You shook your head as you quietly put everything back in your purse. “Baby.”

You huffed as you slung your bag over your shoulder and quickly walked out of the club. Rafe tried to follow you, but you were already gone by the time he got out the door.

“Fuck.” He said to himself as he ran a hand over his hair before getting in his truck.

⋆.ೃ࿔* ੈ✩˚₊ 𓆩♡𓆪 ･*:.｡.☆..｡.

Rafe had been looking everywhere for you. He drove in and out of neighborhoods and up and down roads. He slammed his fists against his steering wheel before trying your number for the 20th time. When you didn’t answer, he texted you. He stared at your contact photo for what felt like forever before he realized something.

Your location was still on.

Your boyfriend felt a wave of relief wash over him as he clicked on your location and saw where you were at- the beach, of course. You always went there after a bad day. He wanted to kick himself for not realizing that sooner.

“I’m coming, baby.” He said as he put his truck in reverse and made his way to you.

⋆.ೃ࿔* ੈ✩˚₊ 𓆩♡𓆪 ･*:.｡.☆..｡.

He didn’t say anything when he found you. Rafe just walked over to you and sat down. When he realized you were still crying, he put his arm around your shoulder and tried to bring you closer to him, but you pushed away.

“Hey, woah. What’s that for?” He asked with furrowed brows.

“What’s that for, Rafe? Seriously?” You wiped the tears from your face as you turned to look at him. “I just got fucking berated by a bunch of old hags and some security guards and you didn’t do anything!”

“I’m sorry.” He says, trying to read your face.

“Yeah, I bet.” You shake your head as more tears fall.

“Look at me.” Rafe’s hand cups your face as he forces you to look into his eyes. “I really am sorry, baby. I know it won’t fix what happened, but I am. I should’ve said something. I should’ve defended you, but I didn’t.”

He paused for a second, giving you room to speak. When you stayed quiet, he kept going. “I thought I was making things better but I just made them worse.”

You closed your eyes. Between the drinks, food, crying, and running, you were completely exhausted. You sighed as you looked away from Rafe and hugged your legs, bringing your knees under your chin.

Without another word, Rafe slipped his jacket off and threw it over your shoulders before pulling you into him. You let yourself curl into his side and closed your eyes.

Rafe had been watching for a while from the shadows. You could never know he was watching you. Gazing through the slit in the back door of the church, his eyes trailed over you as you sung hymns in perfect harmony, your fingers practised as you flipped the pages. He could just devour you in that dress. He could- Stop. He forced himself to turn away before he walked and did something stupid like storming in there, throwing you over his shoulder and driving out of town to a place where they could be alone. Rafe would never regret it, but he’d regret the look on your face. He couldn’t take you away from all your friends and family. Could he? Rafe swung a leg over his bike, kicking up the engine and riding away before he could think more.

You could’ve sworn you heard the growl of a bike halfway through church. Your head turned instinctively towards the back door. What if he was out there? Was he waiting for you? What if he was waiting for someone else? You didn’t want to think of that possibility. 

There was no way he was still in town. You checked the newspaper every morning, rushing out to collect it as soon as it was delivered. Like you were some loyal wife waiting to see if your husband had written home from the battlefield. Except this wasn’t that simple. You weren’t his wife. Rafe could never be your husband. You didn’t even know if you’d ever see him again.

There was nothing in the newspapers. No crimes. No bank robberies. Nothing. You flipped through the pages quickly, like clockwork now, skimming yet thoroughly. You didn’t want your father to ask questions about why you were suddenly interested in the paper. He was still upset about that night two weeks ago. You could tell from the weight of his gaze.

“You had one job, and you couldn’t even do that right! Will you ever make yourself useful?” he reprimanded, over breakfast the following morning. 

“Sorry,” you’d whispered, standing beside him with the pot of coffee, like you did every morning. 

He’d given you extra chores for the week after that, both at home and at the church. It was nothing compared to his usual punishments. You’d never admit it, but you liked the time to yourself. However, sometimes, when you were alone, you felt as though someone was watching you. But no one was there every time you’d turn around. You were probably imagining things. It was probably your father. Or maybe it was the rush still lingering from him.

Rafe was a glimpse into the freedom you’d never had. The amount of thrill you’d experienced during those stolen moments with him was more than you’d ever had in your whole life. He was reckless and dangerous, but he was free to do whatever he wanted. Unlike you, who was stuck in this house. In the church. In this God-forsaken town, with your whole life planned out and perfectly curated by your parents. It was all settled. They’d marry you off in a few years, probably. 

They could never stop talking about it. Your father glad to finally have you out of the house and be someone else’s problem. Your mother gushing about how lovely your life would be. How your duty would be complete when you were a wife. And a mother. Just like hers was. Except her life was nowhere near perfect. You’d known enough to see that. 

It was just a matter of time. Just until they found the right man. Someone with a respectable image and good values. Your parents were already searching. To them, it didn’t matter what he was like behind closed doors. What happened there, stayed there. That was an unspoken rule that weaved itself throughout every house in the town.

Sometimes you’d think about Rafe at night when you couldn’t sleep. Which was often. Honestly, he was all that was occupying your mind. He was your escape. You’d spent the past decade pondering about the future. Who would you marry? What would he be like? What would the wedding be like? And you were tired of thinking about it. You’d never let yourself indulge in an escape before. In a fantasy. Hope was a dangerous emotion. 

But with Rafe, you let it happen, lying on your back, staring at the ceiling. Because it could never be real. He was gone. You could never have him. But what would it feel like? If he cupped your face, his breath fanning over yours. If he leaned in and his lips met yours. You wouldn’t stop him. He’d almost kissed you that night. At least that’s what you think. You wouldn’t know because you’d never been kissed before. It was forbidden before marriage. 

Some of the more daring girls in school had theirs behind the old birch tree or down by the riverbank. You remember listening intently, memorising every detail, knowing you could never experience it for yourself. How you wished you were one of them. Anyone but the preacher’s daughter. You were supposed to set the example for the rest of the town. Never step out of line. The ruin you’d face if anyone, God forbid your father, found that you lost your purity was unimaginable. Perhaps you’d already lost it with these thoughts about Rafe.

You snapped back to reality when your father grimaced your name, registering that you were in church. In front of the whole town. Dread filled you as you realised you had messed up the words. Oh God. You were about to apologise. Ask for forgiveness. Do something when your father swiftly redirected the town's attention. The weight in your stomach doubled. Because you knew better than that. This wasn’t over. It never was. 

Rafe was leaning against the street lamp across from your house as usual. It was his now-established spot when he felt like watching you through your bedroom window. He’d been out there a few nights now. Just seeing you during church wasn’t enough anymore. Rafe needed more of you. It took all his fucking self-control every night to not climb in. What he would give to see your room. Sometimes, when he was a little too drunk, he’d imagine what it looked like. He bet you had soft white cotton sheets. Some flowery cream wallpaper. A wooden closet filled with those modest church dresses you always wore. Little did you know that just tempted him more. 

You hadn’t walked in yet tonight. Rafe could go up right now. Hide behind the door and cover your mouth when you walked in. He was almost certain you wouldn’t fight him, but it didn’t matter if you did. He’d hold you down on the bed. Rip that pretty dress off. God, the noises you would make while he sucked on your perfect little tits- 

His thoughts were interrupted when the light flicked on, and you walked into the room. Rafe’s focus was solely on you as you undid your braids. It was a routine he’d grown used to, an action he’d seen multiple times and yet it still managed to captivate him. The way your fingers swiftly worked the strands. The way your hair was finally let loose, falling around your shoulders. You seemed shaky today, though. Why were you pacing? Was something wrong? 

Rafe dropped his cigarette on the floor, crushing it under his foot. If something was wrong, he would find out. And fix it. You just needed to tell him. And he would make you tell him. Just as Rafe, under the influence of the high, was deciding whether to actually climb up into your room, another figure appeared. Rafe recognised him. Had seen him standing at the front of the church, guiding the town’s prayers. Your father. 

You freeze when he walks in. You already knew deep down this was coming, but that doesn’t make it any easier. Before he can say a word, you’re already apologising, as if that will help in gaining his forgiveness. “S-sorry, sir. It won’t happen again. I promise.” Your voice is shaky in a way you hate. 

Your father chuckles slightly, as if amused by your fear. Then he looks at you, serious now, before taking a step forward. “You embarrassed me. Do you understand?”

You nod, almost frantically, eyes trained on the ground. Your hands fidget nervously with the hem of your dress. 

“Look at me!” he snaps, making you flinch. You look up, having no other choice, met with the fury in your father’s eyes. “I’m sorry-”

Your head whips to the side as he slaps you. Hard. You stumble back, bracing yourself against your dresser to catch your breath. It creaks, unsteady from the force. 

“You ungrateful brat. I give you everything you could ever ask for, and you embarrass me like this! Stumbling over your words in front of the whole town! Do you have any idea what they will say about me?” Every word hits you harder than the last. 

Of course. You knew you weren’t allowed to make mistakes. Especially at the cost of your father and his reputation. You’d witnessed and felt his wrath before. A few skipped words were more than that in this household. 

“It won’t- it won’t happen again-” you stuttered out, looking away again, tears already streaming quietly down your cheeks. 

You hated them. Hated looking weak in front of your father. Hated giving him the rush of knowing he still had control over you. But you couldn’t help it. He did. As much as you might deny it to everyone and even to yourself, you feared him. And everything he was capable of.

You braced yourself for another slap. Another hit. A lecture. But it didn’t come. When you looked up, your father was standing again, composed. As if he didn’t just raise his hand. He carefully smoothed down his robes. His voice betrayed nothing as he stated, “No. It won’t.” 

You sucked in a breath when he walked out, his footsteps fading down the stairs. Then came body-shaking sobs. No matter how much you tried to bury them, they always came. You sunk to the floor, curling in on yourself, letting the tears flow. It was better to let them out when you were alone. You were alone in this. Rafe couldn’t save you now.

Except you weren’t. Not really. Rafe still hadn’t left. He’d seen everything. He flexed his knuckles. He was going to go in there right now, straight through the front door. Your mother would shriek. Maybe try to stop him. He wouldn’t. Rafe didn’t have his gun right now, but that was fine. He didn’t need a gun. He’d go into your father’s room, grab him by the collar and make him feel every ounce of pain that you’d felt over the years. He was going to make sure your father died a slow agonising death with his bare hands. 

Rafe didn’t care if you saw. He didn’t care if your mother called the police. No one was stopping him. That fucking bastard was going to die. Rafe was going to kill your father. And then he’d grab you with those same blood-covered hands. He didn’t give a shit if you thrashed. He’d throw you into the backseat of some stolen truck, your sweet little nightgown bloodstained now, and he’d drive until-

No. Rafe exhaled heavily, his jaw clenching. If he was going to kill your father, which he would, Rafe needed to plan better than this. He needed to think. About how to get the job done. Not about how you’re probably crying in your room right now. Rafe could practically imagine how your face would look with tears streaming down your cheeks when he closed his eyes. You’d look so pretty. So innocent. So pure. But Rafe didn’t want you to cry. Not unless it was because your lips were wrapped around his cock, your eyes all glassy, while you tried to take all of him even though you couldn’t. Just because he’d asked. Just because you wanted to please him. 

Fuck, he was hard just thinking about it. Rafe headed for his bike again. This had to stop. He needed to get this out of his system. Go to the bar and have a drink. Fuck one of the strippers or something. He needed to stay away from you. But he already knew he couldn’t. At least not until he got rid of that wretched father of yours.

You jumped up from the floor when you heard the sound of an engine. Again. But you were met with nothing but darkness outside. And your mother’s reflection in the glass of the window. You turned slowly, not expecting her. She barely spoke to you unless it was necessary. That mainly involved lectures about appearances and securing a husband. “Mama-” you started, but she cut you off.

“You have to stop with this childishness. What is going on with you lately?” she questioned, her tone irritated. “Forgetting your father’s orders. Fumbling your scriptures. Behaving as though-”

She took a breath before continuing, her voice just a little softer now, “This cannot keep happening, you understand? We’re trying to secure you a husband, sweetheart. Do you have any idea how difficult that is when you disregard your duties?”

“Yes, Mama. I understand,” you whispered, head tilted down as usual. Your hair fell slightly over the edges of your face. 

Your mother tsked, displeased. She always hated when your hair wasn’t in two braids, claiming you looked rogue. “Look presentable for church tomorrow.” With that, she left your room. Alone with your thoughts. 

You took extra precaution in church the next day, not wanting to get in any more trouble. Both your parents' eyes were trained on your every move as if looking for a reason to punish you further. You’d promised yourself last night that you’d keep the thoughts of Rafe at bay, only let them take over when you were truly alone, which was usually at night. He was an escape, just like the cigarettes you smoke, and he needed to stay exactly that. You couldn’t ruin your whole image and upturn your life for a fantasy out of your reach. Even if sometimes, that’s what you wanted to do. 

Everyone was gone when you stepped out of the church, locking the hard wooden doors behind you. Your father had told you to reorganise one of the storage rooms, so that’s what you spent the past two hours doing. Going through every piece of writing to sort them out exactly how he’d ordered. Lord knew if you messed up, he’d make you do it all over again. You were almost certain this was his way of making sure you reread those scriptures. Understand your place. What you were supposed to do. 

You thought you did. That you’d settle back into your old life. Until you turned and saw him standing there. Rafe. You couldn’t move, frozen in place. Your throat felt dry. You must be hallucinating. It was just the fact that you hadn’t eaten after breakfast. Or the lack of water. Rafe couldn’t be here. He’d left town. Were you so lost in your own mind that you were now seeing things?

“He hurt you.” Rafe’s voice was cold, darkness pulsing beneath it. 

You couldn’t comprehend it. Rafe didn’t offer any explanation, and your mind was filled with questions. How was he here? What was he doing here? Who was he talking about? 

“W-what?” you stuttered out, the only thing you could manage. 

“I saw him. Hurt you.” Rafe took a step closer. 

You blinked, as if trying to test if this was an illusion or not. It wasn’t. “How are you- What- I thought-” your words refused to come out properly.

Rafe gripped your chin tightly, making sure your gaze couldn’t escape his. “How long?”

“Rafe, who are you talking about? How are you here? What…” You could feel his calloused hands on your skin. Certainly not a hallucination. You reached out to feel it yourself, pressing your palm softly against the rough fabric of his denim jacket. 

“Your father.” You saw the way he grimaced at the words. Had he seen- There was no way.

“I thought you were gone. That you left town.” Your voice was shaky. Everything you’d believed for so long, everything you let yourself indulge in the thought of Rafe knowing he was gone, every time you told yourself your thoughts were sins because he was a fantasy- You knew nothing. He was here the whole time. 

You shove Rafe away from you, hard. Or at least with all the force you can. He moves. But only by surprise. Rafe expected you to embrace him. Be overjoyed at his return. He doesn’t know everything that went through your mind while he was gone.

“You lying- you awful- I thought- you were supposed to be gone!” you finally exclaimed, letting out the frustration and hurt you felt. All your morals had been hanging on by the fact that he was gone. That your thoughts about him would all lead to dead ends. That he was never going to be in your life again. You shoved at his chest, once. Twice. He didn’t move this time.

Rafe had been quiet, allowing you to feel everything. He fucking deserved it. Hell, he deserved a lot worse. He shouldn’t have come to see you in the first place. Should have let you stay in your dreamed-up world. But he couldn’t stay away any longer. Three weeks was as long as he could go. Rafe needed you near him. Needed to hear your voice. Needed to feel your touch. You were giving him exactly what he wanted without even knowing it. He was going to hell for sure. 

When your outburst had finally died down, you looked up at him again, chest still heaving slightly but feeling drained now. You couldn’t read the emotion on his face, but he didn’t seem mad or upset. “You’re really here…” you whispered before letting yourself fall against his chest, too tired to think anymore. 

Rafe froze for a second before wrapping his arms around your waist securely. His grip was tight as he relished the feeling of you in his arms. God, he could feel every curve and contour of your body. How he just wanted to rave his hands over you. Undress you right here, take you inside the church and ravish every part of your body on the altar. He stroked your hair gently while letting the sick thoughts of everything that he wanted to do to you fill his mind.

“I never said I was leaving, sweetheart,” Rafe stated, plainly, still keeping you close. He wasn’t ready to let you go just yet. Not after he was depraved for three whole fucking weeks.

You let out a breath of disbelief, still hurt. “Then why didn’t you come see me-”

“I never promised I was going to see you again after that night, either.” Rafe wasn’t one to sugarcoat, but he felt obliged to say more after seeing the pain in your eyes, as if you were betrayed. 

You felt that you were even if, looking back, he was right. He never promised anything. 

“I was busy with some things, okay?” It wasn’t technically a lie. Rafe had been busy. With drinking. Smoking. Planning his next heist. His endless thoughts about you. “I saw you last night, from outside your window. I saw what happened.” 

You didn’t ask about the fact that he’d been watching you, and Rafe was grateful. It wasn’t because you weren’t curious about that, but because his next words occupied all the thoughts in your mind. He’d seen you. How much had he seen? Your father slapping you? You crying after? Your mother lecturing you? Rafe’s voice pulled you back to the present again.

“How long has he been hurting you?” Rafe repeated his question from before.

“Long enough,” you answered quietly, stepping out of his grip. You were still upset about the fact that Rafe never left town but didn’t come see you.

Rafe almost pulled you back. The urge to hold you like that was overwhelming. But he knew you were still upset. Yet he didn’t apologise. “How about I take you on a ride, princess? Make it up to you.” He turned to his bike instead. 

You went still, looking from Rafe to his bike, then back to him. You couldn’t, right? Not after all the sinful thoughts you’d had about him. After you let him consume your mind. And it was already pretty late in the afternoon. You were about to make some excuse as to why you couldn’t when Rafe spoke up again. 

“You want an escape, don’t you?”

How did he know? You couldn’t refuse now. Rafe knew that. The devil’s offer was too tempting. “I have to be home by sundown,” you said, trying to sound firm, but it came out like a flimsy rule you could break.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. Daddy won’t know.” Rafe’s lips curled into that smirk that suited him way too much.

Rafe led you to his bike, grabbing the singular helmet and slipping it onto you. Your breath hitched as he tightened the strap. 

“Too tight?” he murmured lowly.

You shook your head, looking at him through the visor.

Rafe grinned before climbing onto the bike. The thought of you pressed up against him, clinging to him, was enough to spur him on. The engine roared to life as he keyed the ignition. He lightly patted the spot behind him, waiting.

You sat carefully behind him, adjusting the hem of your dress. You could feel the vibrations of the bike under you, running through every inch of you as you awkwardly placed your hands around his waist, not really knowing how to hold on. You’d never been on a bike before.

Rafe clearly knew that, chuckling under his breath. “You have to hold on tighter than that.”

That was all the warning you got before he revved the engine and took off. You gasped from the sudden force, your arms shifting to a death grip around his waist. You closed your eyes tight, not wanting to see. You prayed no one from town would see you like this, on a bike, a criminal’s no less.

Rafe could barely breathe under your chokehold, but he didn’t complain. If it were anyone else, he’d probably throw them off. However, it was you. And the rush he felt from having you like this was unlike he’d ever felt before. 

“You’re going to crush my ribs if you hold on any tighter, princess.” Rafe almost laughed. He hadn’t truly done that in a long time. You were ruining him before he could ruin you. No. Rafe was already ruined. 

“Rafe!” you squealed as he sped up more, your hands wrapping tighter, if that was even possible. Rafe revelled in it. He was a predator playing with his prey. And God, did he love it. He could feel the coolness of his helmet, that you were wearing, pressed up against his back. Rafe could almost see how tightly your eyes must be closed. If you were praying for him to slow down, you certainly didn’t ask him. 

You could feel the rush of wind against your skin. The way your braids were pushed back. Rafe’s hard muscles under your grip. You knew you were clinging way too hard, but there was no way you were letting go. 

“Open your eyes.” Rafe’s voice was gravelly. You could feel the tremors through your body as you shook your head against his bike. 

“Open them.” He was firmer this time. Rafe needed you to remember this moment. You felt no choice but to obey. You opened your eyes just slightly at first, peaking at your surroundings. The sun was starting to set, the sky shades of yellow and orange. It made you relax just a little as you pulled back slightly to get a better look. Rafe selfishly regretted his decision of making you look for a second, but seeing your reaction made up for it.

You gasped in wonder, looking around. It wasn’t extraordinary or anything, but you’d felt the rush that came with being on a bike. You were on one of the main highways, tall grass surrounding either side of the road, with the occasional barren spot of land. The setting sun drowsed everything in golden light. 

“You like it?” Rafe asked, voice genuine for once, as he slowed the bike a bit. 

“Yes…” You whispered, still taking it all in. You feared you’d never get to experience something like this ever again.

It wasn’t long before Rafe pulled up to his destination and cut the engine. You didn’t notice where you were, more focused on getting off. Your legs were a little shaky as you stood on solid ground again. You actually enjoyed the ride to your surprise. 

Rafe slipped off too, steadying you, before slipping the helmet off. His expression was unreadable again as he put it around one of the handles of his bike. He really shouldn’t have brought you here, but he needed something. Rafe gently tucked a strand of your hair before turning. You gave him a soft smile, but froze when you swivelled. 

The gas station. The one by the highway. You knew of it well. The shady stories. Girls disappearing. Why had Rafe brought you here?

“Rafe… why are we here?” You questioned, trying not to let the full extent of your fear show. 

“I just need to get some things, okay?” The way he said it was so casual, you almost let your guard down. He probably just needed to get some more beer or cigarettes. They were cheaper here than in town.

Rafe grabs your hand, pushing the front door open. He doesn’t need you wandering off when he has business to take care of. 

You let him take your hand, still feeling uneasy about this place. Rafe feels you tense and pauses, turning to hold your gaze as if you’re a child. “No one’s going to touch you. You’re with me, yeah?”

You nod quietly, looking around. It just looks like a normal store. You shouldn’t be so worried. 

“Just don’t do anything and stay quiet.” Rafe didn’t wait for your nod this time. He assumed you’d listen to him. He was right.

You watched as Rafe walked straight to the counter, not grabbing anything to pay for. You stayed quiet beside him as he spoke to the guy on the other side. “Taylor.”

“Cameron.” The man’s voice was deep. He was probably in his fifties, with greying hair and a map of tattoos. “Gotta a girl this time?”

Rafe’s jaw clenched. He was going to fucking kill him if he said anything about you. If he even looked at you. “Don’t.” His voice made it clear he wasn’t in the mood for games. 

“Shit. Alright.” The man raised his arms in fake surrender, leading Rafe into one of the backrooms. Your breath hitched, but you followed, holding Rafe’s arm a little tighter.

“You have my shit?” Rafe asked plainly as they reached the end of the hallway. He couldn’t deal with any more problems right now. Part of him wished he hadn’t brought you here, but he also didn’t want to shield you from this side of him. There was a difference between knowing his crimes and seeing his crimes. Better you knew what he was capable of now rather than later. 

The man smirked before throwing a bag onto the table with a thud. Rafe dropped your hand for a second to rummage through the bags. You wrapped your arms around yourself, suddenly feeling exposed without his touch. The other guy was staring slightly, but that thought was pushed out of your mind as your eyes landed on the contents of the bag. 

Guns. Knives. Tools. Your breath came harder as you realised. These were for Rafe’s crimes. Robbing banks and God knows what else. You’d known before, but seeing this made your stomach flip. 

Rafe gripped your wrist before you could step back, tossing a wad of cash onto the table before shouldering the duffel bag. He didn’t wait for the other man’s permission. Just strode down the hall and out the door, back outside. You’d seen now. He could feel the dread that coursed through you. If you were going to run, he needed to feel you one last time. Maybe that was why he’d brought you out here. The only way back was his bike. 

When Rafe released your hand, you just stood there. Didn’t run. Yell. Scream. “Is this why you offered to take me on a ride?” Your voice was achingly soft. 

Rafe shook his head, strapping the bag onto the back of the bike, making sure to leave enough room for you. “No.” It was the truth. Rafe didn’t want to lie to you. He really did want to make it up to you. At least in the first half of the ride.

You waited till Rafe had his full attention on you before asking, “Why do you do this?”

“Do what?” His voice wasn’t cold per se, just… detached in a way now. As if he had already decided this was the end of whatever you had. 

“Rob banks. Commit crimes. Live a life on the run.” You couldn’t understand how one could live like this. “Don’t you want something… more?”

Rafe stepped closer. This is what he didn’t want. You thinking he’s good deep down. That he’ll become a new man. A good man. For you. He couldn’t.

“This is who I am, sweetheart. I told you before. You hadn’t seen the worst yet.” His words hurt in their realisation. Rafe knew that, but he needed you to hear them. “This is what I do. I am selfish and corrupt, and that will not change.”

He cupped your face, so your eyes met. “You cannot change me. I don’t want to change.”

You stepped back as soon as he let you go, the truth coming over you like a wave. In all your fantasies, all the dreams you’d had, every thought about him, was strayed from reality. He’s just like all of them. You knew from the beginning who he was. He told you. And yet you never realised the magnitude of it. Rafe was a criminal. He was dangerous. He liked this. 

You take another step back, the sheer panic of how isolated you are out here at the edge of town hitting you. You are at his mercy. He could do anything he wanted to you right now, and you’d be helpless. 

Rafe sees the panic in your eyes, but he doesn’t comfort you. Watching you finally fear him, the gravity of it, sends a twisted rush through him. Good, you should be scared of him. He moves closer into your space, crowding you against his bike, grabbing your jaw, a little rougher this time.

"What, you really thought I was a good guy, huh, princess? Just because I beat some drunk unconscious at a bar?” Rafe’s laugh sent chills down your spine this time as you pressed back against the bike. 

Rafe needs you to hate him. He needs an excuse to leave town. To forget about you and let you live your life. You’ll be better off without him, and that’s fucking sure.  “I told you what I am, and now you can fucking see it, can’t you?"

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. You finally gasped for air as he pulled away. 

Rafe remembered he promised to get you home. The sun was gone now, darkness taking over. He handed you the helmet, not helping you put it on this time, before roughly ordering, “Get on.”

You got on quickly, knowing better than to hesitate. This was at least better than hitchhiking back. Or so you thought. Whatever sweetness was there the first time was gone now, yet you had no choice but to cling to Rafe for dear life. Your nails instinctively dug into him as he sped up more, pushing the bike to its limits. You pressed yourself harder against him, hoping he’d slow down just a bit. He didn’t.

Rafe deserved this. The sting of your nails. He needed it to distract him from the bitter taste in his throat. It was better this way. He knew that. You needed to know his true self. Rafe tried to ignore the voice in his head saying this didn’t have to be the end. That he could take you to his place. Lock you up in a room. Eventually, you’d come around- He needed to leave town.

You sighed as Rafe finally slowed down, reaching your street. As soon as he stopped the bike, you got off, taking off the helmet and handing it to him without looking back. When you braced against a lamppost to steady yourself, Rafe almost felt bad. Almost. 

“Won’t be waiting for me now, will you, sweetheart?” Rafe’s tone is cold, almost amused in a way. 

You don’t say a word, just stare. Even if he doesn’t leave town, whatever way you saw him before is gone now. 

Rafe can see it. The weight of his truth in your eyes. Good. He does you the favour of answering his own question. “Don’t.” With that, he speeds off, leaving you there, across the street from your front porch.

You’re trembling when you walk into the house. Not from the cold but from everything that just happened. You’ll never see Rafe again. You didn’t know why you cared. He’s not good for you. He’s dangerous. He’s… mesmerising? No. Stop. You know what he really is now. Right? 

Another wave of dread washes over you before you can realise why. It’s not from Rafe this time, and you wish it were. You turn and find your father standing at the end of the hall.

You wish you were with Rafe instead.

a/n: i originally thought this was going to be a three-part series but i have a feeling it might be longer lol. anyways this took a while to write so hope you guys like it and thank you for all the support on the first part! it really means the world to me ✨🩷 im probably going to do a few oneshots next before part 3 so feel free to send in requests for fics, headcanons or moodboards ‎ꫂ᭪݁

taglist: @rafesgreasycurtainbangs , @rafeysfawn , @fleintur , @st4rg1rl2222 @starbuckslover213-blog , @wildflowerwildfire1201 , @isastarset @starkeyboxd

dividers: @chrisssiren

you could hear the elated squeal of your son even as you were walking down the stairs, "put me down, daddy!" you could hear theo screaming joyfully, "i won't! you wanted to be a superhero and superheroes fly!"

when you got to the doorway of the living room, you leaned your head on the arch with a small, fond smile on your lips, watching as rafe, dressed as batman, was holding your son, superman theo, up in the air as if he was flying.

when your son noticed you, his eyes lit up and he brought his fist forward like superman as rafe continued to make him fly, "look, mama, i'm flying!" you laughed, "i can see that, superman."

rafe walked over to you, placing theo down in front of you, "superman has arrived to his destination." rafe grinned, standing up straight. you could see him size you up in your costume with a look that resembled hunger, desire, but instead of commenting on it, rafe cleared his throat, turning to theo, "alright, superman, you ready to go get a basket full of candy?"

"yeah!" theo exclaimed, jumping up into the air. "mama, can you gimme krypto?" you chuckled softly, handing your son the white plush dog, the plushie wearing a cape you'd especially made for it, theo clutching it and cuddling it close to his chest.

theo was wandering way ahead of you two, his basket almost half-full of candy. you and rafe hadn't really said more than five words to another, and for some reason... there was an air of awkwardness surrounding you.

you cleared your throat, briefly looking to rafe before looking back at your son, "so, how's sofia?" you asked, trying to sound like saying that didn't feel like swallowing rusty nails.

"i wouldn't know." rafe shrugged, "i broke up with her." his statement made your head snap to face your ex-husband, your eyes wide, "what?" "yeah. you were right. dating theo's kindergarten teacher... it wasn't appropriate. i should've never started it. i'm sorry."

your eyes widened slightly. rafe... actually apologized for something he did, instead of acting like he could do no wrong. before you could question him on his reaction, though, you heard your son call out.

"mama! this house next!"

you let out a soft laugh, turning to rafe, "that house next, i guess."

once theo's basket was overflowing with candy, the three of you made your way to your home with theo's eyes already drooping, drool leaking onto rafe's shirt as he carried his son, softly stroking the back of the little boy's head in a way that made you swoon.

"is it okay if i put him down?" "of course. let me just..." you mumbled, pressing a kiss on top of the boy's head, "mama loves you, theo." a little "mmhmm." was the only response you got as the boy curled further into his father's chest.

rafe watched as theo let out soft mumbles as he laid in his race car bed, muscles twitching every now and then in his sleep. he smiled, brushing back some of his hair, before pressing a light kiss on theo's cheek.

when rafe walked down the stairs, he saw that you were sitting on the couch, now changed into a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt, a glass of wine nestled between your hands. as he got to the bottom of the steps, he noticed you'd placed a second glass next to the bottle.

"i can go." rafe swallowed, glancing at the wine glass, "if you want me to." "do whatever you want to do." you shrugged, taking a big sip out of your glass, "i was thinking we could sort some things out about theo, but if you don't want to, we don't have to."

rafe sighed, "if you want me to stay, you can just say that."

you swallowed, looking down at the wine glass on your lap, "fine. i want you to stay." you brought the glass to your lips, tilting your head back slightly to take a big sip, muttering, "i don't like being alone. the house is too big."

rafe sat down on the couch next to you, leaning forward to pour himself some wine before sitting back with a sigh. "why are you acting so weird?" you asked with a furrowed brow, making rafe chuckle, "like what?" "like a good guy."

"i, uh..." rafe pressed his eyes close, taking in a deep breath, "i started seeing a therapist." your eyes widened at the statement, and you turned to rafe "the fuck? are you... are you serious? you? therapy"

rafe laughed, "yeah." he took in a deep breath, "i want to be better. i want to be better for you and th-" before rafe could finish his sentence, you'd already connected your lips with his.

you moved to straddle his lap, rafe's hands finding themselves on your waist, calloused hands creeping up your back under your sweater, a grin suddenly appearing on his lips as he pulled back, squeezing your soft flesh, a string of saliva still connecting your lips, "no bra? i'm starting to think this was your plan all along."

"maybe it was." you whisper against his lips, shivers running up rafe's spine, "you're really trying to... better yourself?"

"yeah. wanna be better, for theo, for you..." rafe's lips pressed against your neck, your back arching into him, your head tilting back to give him better access to your body as you ground down on his thigh with a low breath, "rafe, i'm married..."

"we have a kid together." the man pushed up your sweater, lips trailing down to your breast, "marriage is just a piece of paper, baby. c'mon, don't tell me you haven't thought about us being together again..." rafe pressed a kiss on your nipple that made you let out a gasp, "we could give theo a proper family and shit..." he sucked the hard bud into his mouth, tongue swirling around it as he moved you back and forth on his thigh.

"rafe..." you threw your head back, grinding down on rafe's muscular thigh, his hands holding you by your waist, "fuck..." rafe's lips detached from your nipple, the man looking up at you with hazy blue eyes, "you're so fucking hot... nearly came in my pants when i saw you in that costume..."

your clit throbbed as you rocked yourself on your ex's thigh, "just think about it... us, in the same house, in the same bed..." you moaned as rafe's hold tightened on your hips, making you let out a gasp, "we could have another baby..."

"don't talk like that..." you moaned, "we're not good for each other..."

"we could be." rafe grunted, moving you on his thigh, the knot in your stomach tightening, "could be real good. we both know william doesn't make you feel as good as i do..."

"rafe..." you let out a whine, the pressure in your abdomen growing as rafe increased his pace, "fuck, rafe, i'm close!"

he grinned up at you, "yeah? gonna come for me? does will make you come this fast?"

"shut up..." you panted, grinding on him more fervently, "shut up, dumbass." rafe laughed softly, watching as your eyes rolled back in your head, revelling in it.

and finally, your pussy clenched around nothing, a high pitch leaving your lips, your brows knitting together, your nails biting into rafe's shoulder as he watched you come on his thigh, and somehow it made him feel better than when he comes; the look of pure pleasure on your face was enough to make him feel like he was the one experiencing all that.

rafe stopped moving, allowing you to come down from your high as you pressed your forehead to his shoulder, taking in deep breaths, his large hand stroking the back of your head. "you did so good." he mumbled, pressing a kiss on the side of your head, "did so good for me, baby."

TAGLIST! @raahosh @nemesyaaa @purpleplumpudding @esotericcangel @mattyskies @bakugouswaif @nonietosay @my-name-is-baby @tinythebunni @fratbrochrisgf @ariieeesworld @silkylovey @izumis-salty-penis @flow33didontsmoke @hisdumbbunny @haylorbestie @k4yr14 @harringtonsbowgirl @umbreoni @st8rkey @lunaleah @cicicavill7 @lillied31 @doremimosasol @lerclec @deeninadream @digitaldiary111 @drewssgirl @sc05 @spaghettimonsterjane

join the taglist <3