A strange dream pulls you from your sleep with a start, and you glance around, confusion flooding your brain until it clicks that you are in Rafe’s bed. The dream is not a dream after all. The warmth against your side is confirmation that he is still there beside you. You turn your head, allowing you to get a good look at him. A serene look on his face as he sleeps peacefully beside you.

He is on his side of the bed and facing you now, arm across your stomach as he sleeps. Willing your breathing to remain steady, you reach out. Fingertips tracing up the length of his forearm, the bands of muscles prominent under your touch. His body still warm against yours. You snuggle back against him, eyes closing as you will yourself to go back to sleep. 

The next time you wake, the sun is up, and the sounds of the household waking funnel into the room, muffled by the closed door. 

“Morning,” his deep, groggy voice causes you to blush, and you turn your face to see him watching you. His arm still a bar of muscles across your body. “How'd you sleep?”

“'s good," you murmur, stretching out a little before snuggling back into the depths of his bed. "This mattress is heaven. You?”

“Good.”

You glance around his room before you closing your eyes and your forehead falls against his. “What is the plan?”

“What plan?”

You do not open your eyes, but you squeeze his arm instead. “So that your dad and Rose don’t find me in here.”

“I don’t care if they do.”

Your eyes open then, and he has that cocky smirk again. “I do.”

“Why?”

“How quick do you think Rose will be to tell my mother that I, her precious perfect daughter, slept with Rafe Cameron?”

He shrugs. “We did sleep.”

You roll your eyes making him laugh a little. “You know what I mean.”

“If fucking was what either you or I wanted last night, then we would have,” he says casually before rolling away from you and getting out the bed. Your mouth drops open as you stare at him in shock. His comment and shirtless body surprising you. And the internal part of you whines that he has slipped away from you taking his body heat with him. He glances over his shoulder before he pulls a t-shirt on. “I would have told you if that was what I wanted.”

“I would have said no if you had tried anything."

He laughs then, truly laughs, before moving back to you. His body leans over yours so that his lips brush the shell of your ear. Your hand immediately reaches to touch him. His skin smooth under your touch as your nails barely bite into the muscled expanse of his bicep. The desire to let some part of you touch him tugs at you as that naive schoolgirl crush flares back to life.

“Don’t lie to me,” he whispers in your ear before pulling away. Your hand falls to the bed, a heat spreading over your face and neck. “Get dressed and we’ll go to breakfast. You like Finch’s Bakery right?”

“Love it.”

He nods before grabbing his ball cap and going to his bedroom door. “I’ll be back in ten minutes to get you. You can borrow my clothes.”

— — — — 

Rafe spent the day with you much to your surprise. You expected breakfast and to be dropped off at home shortly after. Sarah and Topper are still nowhere to be found and he remains tight lipped on where they are.

You know Rafe would typically be on the golf course or somewhere with Kelce and Topper by now, but instead, he sits beside you. His leg is pressed against yours while you watch the waves roll in. The sun warms your back and you inhale the salty air, enjoying the moment of peace.

His watchful eyes are on you instead of the waves, and a small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

“It’s perfect,” you confess, voice soft and barely audible, the orange and pink sky making your smile widen. “How do you know about this place?”

He shrugs. “Found it one day. It’s out of the way, quiet.”

“You come here often?”

“Every now and then.” He turns his head to look at you then. “Why?”

You look away from him to the stretch of sand in front of you. The sun casts your shadows out in front of you across the ground. Your gaze fixates on the lack of space between shadowed you and him. 

“I come here when Mom and I disagree about my life,” you murmur, fingers clasped together in your lap. “So I come often. I’ve never seen you here before.”

He is quiet, so quiet that you look at him again. A look of displeasure on his face, but he is not looking at you anymore. He is also fixated on the shadows. 

After a moment, he breaks the silence. “Why is it like that between you?”

You exhale and stretch your legs out before crossing your ankles. “I’m her little girl. I have to be perfect at all times to make her look perfect. I have to make all the right choices so that my future has all the right options. I’m the one that has to find a respectable kook husband to marry one day…” you fade out picking up a seashell by your knee. You examine it trying to ignore the burn of tears. “But I’m sure being an only son is hard too. Topper faces pressure from both our dad and mom. I just have to deal with my mom.”

“Ward is like that,” he confesses, his index finger drawing his initial in the sand. “Sarah is his favorite.”

“I can tell,” you say gently before placing the seashell in the loop of the R. “She can’t, but I can.”

“I don’t know why she is.”

“There isn’t a logical reason why. It’s cruel and I try my hardest to not let it happen often with Topper.”

Rafe lifts his head, his gaze on you and you stare back at him. “You love your brother.”

“I do.” You see a wistfulness in his eyes, but it is gone quickly. “We both know that Wheezie adores you.”

A smile stretches across his lips then. “Wheezie doesn’t know how lucky she is to be the youngest.”

“She’ll deal with it one day, trust me.” You say before reaching over to trace your initial next to his. “She’ll blink and it’ll be her turn to face the music.”

Rafe groans at the thought and you giggle before tracing the outline of a sea turtle off to the left of your initial. He watches you quietly for a moment before looking up again. 

“I should take you home. Topper has probably dropped Sarah off by now.”

“Okay,” you whisper. He stands before reaching a hand down to help you up. You let him before you walk back to his dad’s truck. His hand is still firmly wrapped around yours. It feels right to let your fingers slip through the spaces of his and you squeeze once before looking over your shoulder one last time. He catches you, a distant look in his eyes when you turn back to him. But he shakes his head and continues to walk beside you to the truck. He helps you in, the silence stretching out again, before going to the driver’s side. 

He starts the drive back to the residential portion of Figure 8 and you watch out the window quietly. It has been a good day, great day even, and you are a little surprised.

“Do you want to get married?” He asks breaking the silence. You turn your head to him. "You mentioned needing a kook husband."

“Maybe, I don’t know. I definitely am not marrying Wyatt.” You joke, but his hand grips the wheel a little tighter at the mention of your ex's name. “But I don’t know. I haven’t met anyone remotely interested in me. I thought Wyatt was, but I think he wanted to impress all his buddies by dating the Thornton girl.”

Rafe frowns. “That asshole did not deserve you. And now he doesn't have you.”

You shrug, the faint feeling of disappointment stirring in your chest. Flashbacks from the night you made the worst decision by giving up a piece of yourself wash over you. "He has a small part of me though."

Rafe's eyebrows rise, waiting for you to elaborate. His hand still gripping the wheel tightly.

“I... umm... w-well I kinda of gave my virginity to him,” you explain, fingers fidgeting with the drawstring of your borrowed sweatpants. "I regretted it the moment I let it happen, but he pressured me and I didn't feel like I could say no..."

Rafe hits the brakes and the truck jerks to a halt. "Did that asshole force himself on you?"

Your eyes widen at the murderous rage masking his face before you shake your head and start to backpedal quickly. “No! No, he didn't. He just made it seem like that it was my responsibility because I was his girlfriend."

"I'll kill him."

"Rafe, don't!" You reach across to touch his forearm again. His hands white-knuckling the wheel. "I’m sorry. I should have explained it better. I regret it because he never made it about me. It was only about him and him getting off. He never actually cared about me. I was naive and believed his bullshit then, but now I know better."

Rafe stares out the windshield, his face still screwed up in anger.

"I'm sorry, Rafe. I know you are best friends with my brother and probably see me as a little sister-”

“No, I don’t,” he says, cutting you off and turning his head to stare at you. His expression unreadable. Your eyes widen a little. His jaw clenches before he turns away and then back to you. “You’ve never been a little sister to me.”

“Oh.”

He starts to drive again, but it is a short drive off to the side of the highway into the grass before he parks the truck and turns off the engine. 

“Rafe?”

He is silent for a moment staring out the windshield at the empty road before he turns to you. A fire in those blue depths tells you that you are about to firmly cross a line you had never imagined you would. And you are right as he surges forward. His lips molding against yours. Your heart races at the feel of his soft and warm lips against yours. Goosebumps cover your body as he kisses you like you are his source of life. All thoughts empty from your head and a heat spreads through you. Then you are kissing him back. Your hands find his shoulders to pull him closer to you. The initial shock of Rafe Cameron kissing you melts away. 

His hands find your waist and slide to your back, urging you closer to him. A moan slips from you, but he ignores it. Your heart races wildly as your fingers tangle in his hair. You want this, you had dreamed about this even when you had been with Wyatt. Especially when Rafe reminded Wyatt just who you were when he would get out of hand at the Island Club and try to mistreat you in public. 

And then he is no longer there. His back is pressed against the door of the truck and he stares at you. An uncapped wildness in his eyes. His chest rises and falls rapidly, hair falling in his face, and those blue eyes sear straight into your soul. 

“I’m sorry,” he says quickly, running his hand through his hair to push it back out of his face. You inhale sharply and turn away, an awful coldness replacing the heat. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“I wanted you to,” you confess before turning back to him. Embarrassment floods you. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth. 

He shakes his head. “No.”

“I did, I still do,” you whisper before reaching for the handle on the door to let yourself out. You could walk home as humiliation paints your face and neck a bright shade of pink.

He moves quickly then, his hand covering yours before you can pull on the handle. His lips brush the nape of your neck. “If we do this-”

You do not let him finish. He wants you as much as you want him. You turn and crash your lips against his. Hands fisting his shirt to keep him close to you. His touch is like molten lava against your arms and you shiver, pressing closer wishing the middle console would disappear.

“I want you,” you breathe, mouth hovering over his. “And you want me too.”

“I do.”

You bite your lip, heart racing so hard you are sure it will jump out of your chest. You kiss him again. It feels necessary now, like breathing, and you forget about the outside world when the tip of his tongue urges your lips to part for him. Time seems to slip away.

It happens quickly and you do not mind him taking control by pulling you across the console into his lap. You straddle him, moaning when his hands make contact with the skin of your waist. A fire spreading through your body from his touches. Lips and hands are frantic. Your hands shake as you unbutton his shirt revealing his bare torso button by button. You want to kiss all of him, every inch, and you intend to do so once the shirt is off. 

His hand cups your face, thumb swiping down the length of your neck. “Baby stop,” he rushes as you unbutton the last button. You lean back from him studying him. “You are Topper’s little sister.”

“Not right now I’m not,” you say quickly and he bites his lip. Your eyes darken at the sight. “Forget Topper, forget who I am right now. Because this is our only chance. I know now that you feel what I feel. I know you want me, Rafe, and I've wanted you for so long."

He swallows before nodding, his fingers digging into the swell of your hips.

You kiss him again, hands pushing his shirt from his shoulders. He kisses back, hands trailing down your thighs and then back up to the hem of your pants. His fingers tug at the tied strings. Your hips grind down against him and he moans your name. Your nails drag down his chest and abs while you focus your kisses on his neck intent on sucking a mark into his skin. Your mark.

“Fuck!” He rasps, his fingers gripping the hem of your shirt before he guides it up and off of you. He tosses it into the passenger seat before staring at your chest. “Fuck.”

“You said that already,” you muse, watching him take you in. You feel beautiful sitting like this, his hungry eyes taking every inch of you in. “I want you to touch every inch of me.”

"I'm planning on it, Princess."

The promise of his intentions creates a pool of anticipation and desire in your lower belly. He reaches back, unclasping the hooks of your bra before you are pulling the straps down and tossing your bra to the side.

"You are perfect," he mutters before your lips claim his. Your hands guide his to touch you. His hands searing hot against your skin as he squeezes your breasts. The carnal shift in his face has you clenching your thighs around his hips. His mouth drags down the column of your throat and to your chest. Your head tipping back as you let out a moan, fingers tightening around locks of his hair when he pulls a nipple into his mouth. 

“Rafe!” You moan, grinding against him again. “God, I need you so much right now.”

“Get in the backseat, Baby, now,” he commands and you go slipping between the spaces of the front seats. And he follows reaching for you to pull your body against his. "I don't have a condom."

"I'm on the pill," you rush, reaching for the button of his shorts.

"No," he says, cutting your attempt to get him out of the rest of his clothes. "Not yet. This is about you."

"About us," you whisper, before pecking his lips. "This is about us."

He grins before jerking his chin. "Lay down, Baby."

You do as he says, hair fanning out across the backseat while he hooks his fingers around the elastic band of your sweatpants.

"Hips up."

You lift your hips and he tugs the pants down, tossing them to the front seat. Cool air washes over your naked body and you bite your lip, watching him take you in.

"Fuck!"

"Rafe," you whine, reaching for him. "Touch me please!"

He inhales, trying to pace himself before he is between your legs. His arms hooking under your thighs and pulling your core down against his mouth. The single swipe of his tongue against you has your thighs clenching around his head. You moan as he devours you. His mouth expertly working you into a mess and your hand hooks around his head, begging for more while the other presses against the leather seat to anchor you.

Your eyes flutter shut and your body tightens, your chest heaving. His name falls from your lips over and over. Before you are ready, your orgasm washes through you. Your bones feel like they have turned to liquid and a warmth floods your insides.

"Oh my..."

“I’m not even close to being done with you,” he mumbles against the inside of you thigh, and you lift your head to watch him. He smirks while shoving his shorts down. Your lips part in shock when his cock springs free.

“I heard rumors, but…”

His hand wraps around his length, stroking up and down a few times. You shiver, wanting to touch him, but he does not give you the chance as he drags the tip of his cock against your folds. You bite your lip, eyes fluttering close at the sensation of him pressing against you.

“Watch me, Baby.”

Your eyes snap open and he grins before he begins to ease himself into you. Your nails scratch against his lower abs and he sinks into you inch by inch until he is completely buried. You whine, legs squeezing his hips as he falls into you. He claims your mouth in another kiss.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he breathes against your lips. "Tell me to stop if you need me to."

“You won’t,” you whisper before brushing the tip of your nose against his. “I trust you. I want this. I want you."

He smiles and the butterflies in your stomach explode at the endearing look on his face. “I’ve seen what Wyatt was working with Babe. This is a different experience.”

You bite your lip against a laugh that bubbles up, but you fail and your laughter fills the cabin of the truck. “There is a decent size difference,” you confess before kissing him. “But I’m okay.”

His gaze drops to be between your legs as he slowly pulls out almost to the tip before pushing back in. He does it over and over, easing you open for him. It feels amazing and your body still tingles from your first orgasm. Moans and praises echo from you and him both, your fingers clasp against his and your legs wrap around him, encouraging him deeper. You stretch around him, adjusting and he watches, memorizing every stroke and every noise that comes from your pretty mouth. 

“More,” you eventually beg and he complies. Your head falls to his shoulder, lips pressing to the curve of his neck. He gives you everything you could ask of him. 

----

After cleaning up and getting dressed, Rafe and you are back in your seats. His hand is on your thigh as he drives back to Figure 8. The drive is in comfortable silence. You can still feel the press of him against you. The way your body ached to be his and now is. You never want this night to end, but it has to as you get closer and closer to your home.

"No one can know about this,” you say softly and he looks over at you. “No one. Not Topper, not Sarah.”

You turn to look at him. Worry filling you that this night will backfire and cost you both your brother and your best friend. He studies you before giving a curt nod and you see the change him in almost immediately. You reach over, hand on his shoulder and then the back of his neck. 

“Rafe, I don’t regret this. I wanted it. I still do. I want you,” you breathe and his fingers press deeper into the soft inside of your thigh. “But our siblings would be furious. You said it earlier.”

“I did.”

“Please,” you whisper, nails lightly scratching at the back of his head. “Don’t be mad at me.”

“I’m not mad,” he says, shaking his head once before parking the truck outside of your house. He turns his face to look at you before sighing. “I-I would have..." He swallows before shaking his head once. "You're mine now. And I would have made another excuse and kept you a little longer if I was smart.”

“I have a curfew,” you remind him. He frowns then before looking back at the house. “Walk with me to the door?” You ask. 

“I shouldn’t.”

“Topper isn’t here and my parents are asleep.”

“Okay.” 

You both get out and walk hand in hand to the door. He presses you against the corner of the door frame lips claiming yours for a moment. You wrap your arms around his shoulder pulling him closer. The kiss ends much too quickly and he steps back. 

“See you tomorrow?”

His eyebrows raise in confusion.

“Kelce’s house party.”

“You’re coming?”

“Yep.”

He nods and you can tell his thinking of a plan before his chin lifts and his eyes meet yours again. “Okay.”

You laugh, leaning towards him. Your hands are on his chest. “That’s all I get?”

“Wear something pretty,” he murmurs into your ear before pressing his lips to your forehead. His hand cradles the back of your head. “I’ll find you when I can.”

And then he is off the front steps and heading towards the truck. You blow out a breath, skin tingling with excitement for the future and for what has happened tonight. You go inside with only one glance back to see him pulling away. Promises of your shared beginning lingering in the air.

Content Warning: Heavy angst, emotional self-loathing, secret affair, explicit sexual content (NSFW, 18+ cut off), power dynamics, emotionally conflicted reader. unrequited love, emotional detachment, psychological themes, toxic coping, self-worth issues, enemies-with-benefits dynamic.

𐙚ᣟ݂

The water shimmered, gold and endless, as the boat rocked lazily near the dock. Not out in the open water, not in motion anymore—they’d dropped anchor early to hang out close to shore, tie it off near the sound. You could’ve walked off the boat if you wanted.

And God, you wanted.

The laughter behind you should’ve been warm. Comforting. It was everything summer was supposed to sound like: John B cracking open a beer, Pope talking too fast about some theory none of you cared about, and Kiara laughing—bright, loud, alive.

But JJ’s laugh cut deeper than the rest.

Because it was only ever for her now.

You sat at the edge of the boat, feet dangling just inches above the water. The surface danced beneath you, glittering like it could carry the pain if you poured it into it long enough.

Your fingers curled tighter around your phone, knuckles white.

Behind you, JJ wrapped his arms around Kiara’s waist like it was second nature. His head dropped to her shoulder, lips brushing skin.

Something inside you cracked. Quietly. Deeply.

You used to be his person. The one he’d call when Luke hit him too hard. The one who’d pick him up drunk from gas stations at 3 a.m. The one who held him when he didn’t want to be touched by anyone else.

But you’d never been his girl.

And now he had one.

Kiara.

You’d been there first. Before her. But JJ had never looked at you the way he looked at her now. He touched her like he couldn’t not. Like she made him forget everything.

You wanted to disappear.

You wanted to scream.

You wanted him to see you.

Instead, you opened your phone and stared at the message again.

Rafe:

You coming or what?

Another buzz followed, like a dare.

I’m not gonna ask again.

The air tightened around your throat. You stared at the water, tried to swallow the lump in your chest, but it was lodged there like a fist. You glanced back once—JJ kissed Kiara’s shoulder and didn’t even notice you were gone.

And that was it.

You stood up.

“Yo—Y/N?” John B’s voice drifted lazily. “Where you goin’?”

“I forgot something at the Chateau.”

“You want a ride?”

“I’ll walk.”

“Back’s like thirty minutes from here…”

But you were already stepping off the boat onto the dock, jaw clenched, hands shaking. No one stopped you. JJ didn’t say your name. Kiara didn’t glance up.

No one followed.

𐙚ᣟ݂

By the time you reached the Cameron estate, your throat was dry, and the sun was dipping below the tree line. The house loomed like a monster behind the gates—too quiet, too clean. A place built by people who didn’t believe in love.

You pushed open the front door without knocking.

The music upstairs was low, bass-heavy, pulsing through the walls like a heartbeat. You didn’t call for him. You didn’t need to.

You climbed the stairs slowly, the ache between your thighs already forming—not from desire. From need. From the ugly, empty space you were trying to fill.

You turned the corner into his bedroom.

Rafe stood shirtless near the window, his back to you. Cigarette between his lips. Tattoo across his ribs. Low sweatpants riding dangerously on his hips. He didn’t turn when he heard the door click shut.

“You’re late,” he said.

“I wasn’t going to come.”

“You always come.” He turned his head, blue eyes cutting over his shoulder. His gaze dropped. “Take your clothes off.”

He wasn’t gentle. He never was.

You didn’t say anything. Just peeled off your sweatshirt, slow. Then your shorts. Then your top. You weren’t wearing a bra. You hadn’t needed one.

You stood there in your underwear, arms around yourself, heart hammering in your chest.

He tossed the cigarette out the window and turned, jaw flexing. “Why are you here?”

You knew what he was really asking.

What did he do this time?

You walked toward him, every step a silent scream. Your eyes stung, but no tears came. You didn’t let them.

“I want you to fuck me.”

Rafe’s expression didn’t change. But something in his eyes flared. His tongue swept across his bottom lip.

“You want me to make you forget him again.”

You didn’t answer.

He stepped forward, slow. “You know he doesn’t care about you, right?”

“I said fuck me.”

He grabbed your throat.

Not tight. Just enough. Enough to make you stop thinking. Enough to tilt your head up until your lips brushed his.

“You wanna be used, pretty girl?” His voice dropped, low and dark and sinful. “Or you wanna be broken?”

You didn’t flinch.

You kissed him.

Hard.

Rafe growled, the sound deep in his chest, and shoved you backward until your knees hit the edge of the bed. He pushed you down, climbed over you, eyes never leaving yours.

He kissed like he wanted to punish you. Teeth, tongue, spit, bruising. His hands roamed, possessive and brutal—grabbing your thighs, yanking your underwear down. He didn’t undress himself yet. Just stared.

“Look at you,” he muttered. “So desperate to be touched.”

He ran two fingers between your folds, slow and deep. You gasped.

“Dripping for someone who doesn’t even like you.”

“Shut up.”

He grinned.

“Make me.”

And then he did.

He dropped to his knees and devoured you—tongue slick, relentless, dragging every sound out of you until you were grabbing the sheets, sobbing with your thighs trembling around his head.

When he stood, his mouth was wet with you. He yanked his sweatpants off with one hand, stroking himself, thick and hard and angry.

“You want this cock or just the humiliation that comes with it?”

You reached for him.

He shoved into you hard.

You cried out, back arching. It wasn’t slow. He fucked you like he didn’t care if you broke.

And that was why you came.

Because pain was easier than heartbreak.

He dragged your legs over his shoulders, pounded into you until your vision blurred, until your fingers clawed into his back, until you were begging—but you didn’t even know for what.

He flipped you over, face into the sheets, hand on the back of your neck as he took you from behind, relentless and brutal. Every thrust knocked the breath from your lungs.

“Say my name,” he hissed in your ear.

“R-Rafe—”

“Louder.”

You screamed it.

And he came with a guttural moan, burying himself deep, hips grinding through the aftershock.

You collapsed.

Sweat. Soreness. Shame.

He rolled off of you, chest heaving. Lit another cigarette. Didn’t say a word.

But he watched you.

And for a moment—just one—his hand twitched toward your back. Then stopped.

You turned your face into the pillow. Not because you wanted to sleep.