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meeeeeeri · 2 years ago

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F&MU (rafe cameron x reader)

SYNOPSIS: i hate you turns into i love you in the bedroom.

WARNINGS: explicit sexual content, breeding(kinda), enemies-to-enemies, friends-with-benefits(they're far from friends)

word count: 2.3k+

masterlist

“i need you stay quiet.” rafe whispered breathily into your ear. “we aren’t–fuck…we aren’t alone, remember?”

you could barely process his words, whining in response as he held you still against his lap. all you could focus on was the feeling of his cock so deep inside you that it was almost uncomfortable; the sleeping cameron family spread throughout the house was a second thought.

“y/n…” he hissed. lifting your head from its hiding place in his shoulder, you meet rafe’s eyes with an incredulous look on your own face. how quiet did he expect you to be when he had you like this?

“rafe, shut up.” the words were gritted out from between your tightly clenched teeth. you released a harsh breath when you felt him move beneath you, the minor readjustment sending him deeper than he was just a moment before. “i’m trying. you’re the one that called me over here without telling me your family was home.”

“sorry.” was all he said. it was a disingenuous apology and you rolled your eyes in mild irritation. “are you gonna be quiet so i can move?”

he wasted no time the moment he saw you nod your head, the hands gripping your waist working to help move you up and down his shaft. you hated riding–it was tiring and you lacked the stamina to last in the position for more than a few minutes at the pace he liked–, but it was the only way to keep the bed frame beneath you from squeaking noisily and prevent the headboard from tapping against the wall.

rafe was big–almost too big. his dick would go in no more than two-thirds of the length every time you came back down. if he had it his way, you would take the whole thing, but he was smart enough to not risk it with his sisters just down the hall. if you could barely contain yourself now, you would stand no chance then.

your heavy head fell back down to rest on rafe’s shoulder, a hand coming up to cover your mouth the moment you felt a moan try to crawl off your tongue. the slow, deep strokes made it nearly impossible to stay completely quiet. it annoyed rafe, made clear by the way he shushed you again, but you found it hard to care.

“would you rather suck my dick since you can’t shut the fuck up?” rafe didn’t pause his movements as he asked the question, the bulbous head scraping against your walls leaving you panting. you shook your head rapidly and he chuckled, one hand leaving your hip to tangle itself into your hair. pulling head away from his neck by the handful of braids, he forced you face him as he rocked you back and forth over his lap.

you didn’t think you could get any wetter, thighs sticky with the mixture of both of your arousals, but you could feel yourself gushing all over him as he held his dark gaze on you. rafe’s eyes were always something you couldn’t get enough of, his heated stare leaving you reeling anytime it was focused on you.

it was pure entertainment for him to watch you try and maintain your silence, a small grin playing at his lips as he watched your eyebrows pinch together in concentration. you wanted to be annoyed with him, and you probably would be once you were finished, but right now? all you could do was tremble in his lap as you clenched around him.

as reward for your efforts–or punishment, his intentions were unclear to you–, rafe sped up the pace of his thrusts. you had lost all control of the situation now, rafe shifting the two of you down for a better angle; an angle that allowed him to fit fully inside of you.

you could cry, from the pleasure or the deliciously painful feeling of the blonde’s dick knocking against your cervix. there was no was no way rafe actually cared about waking his siblings up, if he did then he wouldn’t be fucking you like he wanted the neighbors to hear.

rafe forced you to lean down over him, bare chest smushed against his as he fucked up into you. his feet were planted firmly into the mattress, arms wrapped around your body to keep you close to him while his thick cock completely destroyed any intention you had of keeping your presence in the house unknown.

“r-rafe…shit! too much!” you whispered harshly into his ear. you could hardly make out the words over the sound of skin against skin. “slow down.”

“okay.” he said, nodding his head.

he didn’t–he continued with the tortuous pace, bringing you close to tears. you tried to push away from him but his grip on you was firm, the flexing of his biceps around you a presentation of the strength he held over you. all you could do is lay there and take it, trying your best to not disturb the rest of the house.

“rafe!” you tried scolding him but it sounded more like a whine than anything else. it was hard to be mad when you could feel yourself becoming soaked from his manhandling.

“i’m sorry baby…” he wasn’t, you simply couldn’t believe it. “jus’ let me fuck you right, okay? you can take it, you’ve done it before.”

you couldn’t, but that didn’t matter to rafe. when you started the whole ordeal of sneaking around with each other, he made it his mission to train you into fitting all of him. he didn’t like to hold back; he lacked the patience to do such a thing. he like to hear you whine and look into your teary eyes while you struggled to take him whole. it made him feel superior to know that nobody had ever fucked you open like him.

“yeah, you always take it so good…” each word ended with a grunt as he drilled into your poor cunt, the slick arousal leaking out of you splashing against your thighs from the impact. “saying it’s too much but this pussy is just begging for more…you lying to me?”

there was no possible way for you to answer, not when you could feel each thought falling out of your head with every thrust. you babbled something out in response, though it was nothing comprehensible.

“you love getting stretched out by this dick, huh?” you don’t think he was actually asking, but you nodded your head instinctively anyways. “fuckin’ you so deep you can’t think about anything else…can’t run from it, just gotta take it.”

the pressure building in your abdomen was becoming unbearable, walls clamping down incessantly around the rich boy’s shaft as he explored you with its length. your whining got louder as you felt the oncoming of your release, hands trapped and unable to grab onto anything to ground yourself even a little.

rafe could feel the vice grip around him, a hiss leaving his lips as he struggled to move freely within you. you could tell he was close too, even through your foggy mind you could feel his thrusts becoming sloppier. still, he was unrelenting as he plowed into you.

“you close angel? you gonna cum for me?” you nodded again. “sit up, i wanna see your face.”

when you didn’t move, rafe did it for you. he lifted his back up off the bed and took you with him, flipping you two around to switch positions. he had tunnel vision as you became lost in the pleasure he was giving. your hair was spread out on the pillow, brows strung together tightly, and mouth wide open as you tried to catch the breath he just couldn’t stop stealing from you.

“so pretty when i’m fucking you. so, so pretty.” he said as he stared down at you. “way prettier than when you’re being a bitch.”

you reached up and pushed at his muscular chest weakly, the slick comment reaching through your hazy mind just enough to show your mild irritation, but not enough to actually say anything in response. he chuckled at your attempt and grabbed your hand. the blonde leaned down, so close to your face that you could feel his lips brushing against yours.

“i like you better when you can’t say shit but how good i’m fucking you.”

“don’t piss me off rafe…and don’t kiss me.” you managed to grit out, making rafe smile against your lips before he pulled away from them. he grabbed your legs from around his waist and spread them wide, pushing them up and towards the mattress. a pornographic moan escaped your throat as he dug deeper. “shit! what is wrong with you?”

you were absolutely going to kill him when you got the chance, but that was the last thing on your mind as you felt the slow building orgasm finally fall off the edge. it came with no warning, rafe’s words both a distraction to your mind and the final push your body needed to reach its peak.

the vice grip around rafe’s length made him curse quietly, replacing his punishing strokes with slow, deep ones as he tried to hold himself off from finishing himself. he reached down to rub circles on your swollen clit to make up for his slowed pace. you ground down against his hand as he played with the sensitive bud and reached to grab his forearm, unsure of if you were trying to stop him or pull himself closer.

“i don’t think i’m pissing you off, am i?” he lifted your thighs back up from the mattress and pulled you closer to him before throwing them over his shoulders. his hands were tight around your waist as he brought you down to meet every snap of his hips. “nah, i think you love me right now.”

“can you just cum already? fuck!” you slapped a hand over your mouth after a particularly rough stroke from the man above you, though it was useless to try to stay quiet now. if anyone was awake then they definitely knew what you two were up to.

“c’mon, you know you love this shit.”

rafe’s hips became sloppier with their movements as he went on, stuttering as you squeezed around him over and over. his face was tight with concentration as he chased his own release.

all you could do was take it; whining pathetically as his hips rolled into yours, the blonde using your body as a fleshlight. you squeaked in surprise when you felt him press down on your stomach without warning, warm palm spread out over the sweat covered flesh.

“you feel that? that’s me all in your fucking stomach, y/n.” rafe said as he applied more pressure to the area covered by his large hand. you could feel the head of his cock knocking against the entrance of your impenetrable womb like it was trying to break in.

“rafe, please…” your voice was weak and you didn’t really know what you were pleading for, but you could feel yourself about to cum again. your body was on fire and rafe was the fuel keeping it aflame.

“i’m gonna fill you up so good…put a baby in you…” you clenched at the words involuntarily and it made him smirk darkly at you, teeth glinting in the moonlight peeking through the window. “gonna have you fucking the cum back inside when you go home, wishing it was me.”

the image he implanted into your mind made the chain snap, your second orgasm washing over you just minutes after your first one. the feeling of your gummy walls sent rafe over the edge as well, any rhythm he had left gone as he frantically fucked into you with his twitching cock.

you felt his warm release spill deep inside of you and you never felt more glad to be on birth control in your life. especially when he was fucking it into you like he wanted to actually get you pregnant.

he pulled away slowly and you whimpered at the uncomfortable feeling of his tip slipping out of your entrance. sitting up on your elbows, you glanced down at rafe’s dick with curious eyes. it was covered in the combined juices produced by the two of you. it was still semi-hard and you swear it twitched when rafe felt your eyes on it.

“look at that…look at the mess you made.” rafe wasn’t talking about the one left behind on his length, rather the one leaking from your abused cunt.

he reached towards it and collected the liquids dripping out of you before shoving them back inside. you grabbed his wrist with a swiftness but he didn’t pull away, fingers continuing to pump his cum back where he released it originally.

“can’t waste it, baby. jus’ let me put it back for you.” rafe’s eyes flicked up to your tearful ones from his digits toying with your oversensitive hole. he leaned in close and placed a kiss beneath your ear, smiling at the low whines leaving your throat. “gotta make sure it all stays in, or else i gotta do it again.”

you felt his fingers slip out of you after a few torturous minutes, the three of them coming together to deliver a couple of soft smacks to your clit before pulling away completely. rafe pulled away from you as well to sit back on his haunches.

his gaze washed over your shivering frame, admiring his handiwork. he was hard again; the way his eyes blue eyes remained dark and glazed over as he watched you like a predator in the wild.

"i hate you." your voice was crackly and broken as you spoke but that didn't stop you.

rafe nodded at you silently as he took hold of your legs again. he pulled you closer, allowing you to feel his hardness against your plush thigh. lining himself up with your entrance, he slid the head back in teasingly and pulled back out, repeating the action until he felt you shift towards him.

"right..." he said as he shook his head in disbelief. you gasped quietly as he pushed himself back in fully, head landing on the mattress beneath you due to your elbows giving out. "but no one else can do this for you."

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meeeeeeri · 2 years ago

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This is Real Life || Rafe Cameron x reader

summary: the kook princess comes home from college with a new boyfriend and Rafe isn’t happy about it. unfortunately, he isn’t in the position to tell her what to do

warnings: 18+ smut, foul language, unprotected sex, slight mention of underage sex

word count: 3.8k

author’s note: this contains NO SPOILERS for season 3! y’all i have had this in the drafts for a year and couldn’t finish it. i was quickly motivated by the release of season three. i actually have some more OBX stuff on wattpad that i hope to transfer over if this gets some attention :)

It was feral really, their relationship. What else was to be expected of Ward Cameron's only son and the kook princess? But for the record, she preferred the term bastard. Born the illegitimate child of the second wealthiest man in the Outer Banks, she could go by whatever she wanted and people would still be besotted—albeit wary—by the name.

She was exactly the type of drug Rafe Cameron couldn't resist time and time again. Better than anything Barry could ever try to sell him. One taste and now he gets an itch for her worse than cocaine. Midsummers made this temptation all the more unbearable. Liable to her father's heavy name, she'd be inclined for the occasion to put on some kind of obscenely form fitting dress that left little to the imagination and Rafe intoxicated by the sight all night.

It's a toxic green color, and by toxic he means the dark teal accents her sun kissed skin and dark hair perfectly. She'd dyed it black two summers ago before leaving for college, and it had yet to return to its natural fair brown. He's sure she did it just to spite him. Rafe had always preferred blondes. But damn did it look good on her. Shamelessly, his eyes drink her in as she flashes a pearly smile at the bartender taking her order.

Unfortunately, he also then catches sight of the guy standing next to her. He's a tall, brute of a man with large shoulders, a perfect nose, and sickening puppy dog like eyes. From the looks of him, he's undoubtedly one too many years her senior. Despite that, it's obvious that he's not the one in charge. Rafe watches as the older man hovers around her. He's confident in the way he carries himself, but Rafe can see how he moves around her with an air of caution, like he knows she's going to bite him if he gets too close. This observation leads him to his next point; the guy is not her type and Rafe knows it.

She met Armand nearly a year ago through a friend of a friend. He had returned to university from Europe to continue his studies with the leisure that his comfortable home life in a wealthy, two parent household provided him. While the six year age gap certainly raised eyebrows —specifically those of friends of her father's— it's not the reason she was uninterested in him.

Armand was the product of fine European breeding and the maturity that came with age. He spoke astutely and with confidence. He also had an unlimited amount of patience. And while it was nice to be indulged by his attentiveness every so often, it became quite boring if she was being honest. Armand was the type of guy one would bring home to meet their family, a quality that she had very little interest in.

Her eyes catch Rafe's from across the country club bar, and she immediately looks away. Instead she sweetly asks Armie, as she calls him, to get her another glass of champagne — her current one had gone warm. She pretends that she doesn't see him sidling up to her until he's standing right behind her.

Rafe has to hide his smile, licking his lips to wet them. After all these years, he's quite used to the games she plays. She makes him wait a few more seconds before she turns around, her exposed back pressing against the bar as she faces him. Her eyes first travel slowly down his body, coming about as close as one can to undressing a person without actually touching them, and only then returning to his face.

"What are you doing here, Cameron?"

They both know what she means is 'what are you doing in my face' and not 'what are you doing at Midsummers'.

Catching the message that she's not in the mood for any sort of shit answer he could give her about his required attendance at Midsummers, Rafe shrugs casually, rolling his expensive suit clad shoulders. His thumb drags across the smooth plane of his jawline, moving downwards and catching along his bottom lip.

"Heard you looked good in a sundress," he suggests, still trying to maintain an air of nonchalant indifference. He wants to know if her golden skin still tastes how he remembers it.

She rolls her eyes as a lazy, taunting smirk appears on his face. Before she can reply, Rafe saunters closer, practically eliminating the distance between them and blocking her against the bar. His face is close enough to her cheek that she can feel his hot breath as he wets his lips.

"Heard you looked good undressed."

Her expression remains unchanged, not bothered by his forwardness. "Would you let my brother hear those words come out your mouth?" She eyes him knowingly, feigning concern. "Wouldn't want to mess up your pretty face again."

The word 'brother' is synonymous to a warning to Rafe and immediately he glances sideways. Around them, residents of Figure Eight chatter and happily sip champagne. No one is paying the pair at the bar any mind. It is likely that no one has noticed them yet. Usually just the sight of the pair together is enough to draw a couple of stares.

When Malcolm Coors doesn't materialize from the crowd, Rafe's sharp blue eyes settle back on her. “Real funny," he sneers.

She has no shame in admitting she gets a little kick out of Rafe's fear of her brother. The two boys had graduated together a year before her, and she still remembers the pair of them being intentionally separated despite alphabetical order as they walked across the stage to receive their diplomas. Malcolm had been sporting a broken nose at the time and Rafe his own nasty looking black eye.

She smiles, enjoying his irritation. While she would like to bask in the fact that it looks like he's still licking his wounds after the past couple years, they need to get to the point before Malcolm does find them.

Rafe nods his chin over towards the unsuspecting back of her European rendezvous as he chatters amiably with the bartender. Rafe wants to swing a golf club through his perfect teeth. "How do you know this guy?"

She shrugs, playing at indifference. "Your inconsistency introduced us."

They haven't talked since before she blocked his number, which was over a year ago. The interaction wasn't exactly civil either. He specifically remembers screaming through the phone at some ungodly hour of the night and ending the call when she finally hung up on him by hurling his phone against the wall. Thankfully his parents had overheard the conversation and already assumed what all the noise was.

Biting back the urge to argue that he's not the one playing the hot and cold game, he persists "A bit old for you, don't you think?"

Her eyes don't follow Rafe's, which she knows are staring daggers at Armand. "You missed me," she points out.

Rafe sucks his tongue across the front of his teeth as an act of stalling, his expression becoming fed up and annoyed. Getting answers out of her has always been like pulling teeth. She doesn't want to play nice? Fine.

"Daddy doesn't have some billionaire's trust fund baby lined up for you?"

Her black lined eyes narrow. He levels his cool gaze with her. Oh he went there.

"Unlike you, my father has no say in my personal life." She's never referred to the man who sired her as anything other than her 'father'. It's the socially acceptable way of saying 'he's a bastard and I hate him'. "Besides, old money doesn't entice me, Cameron."

"Yeah?" he scoffs. Rafe leans in, murmuring softly into her ear. "That's not what you said what I was inside of you."

Her face flashes hot, and it's the first chip in her armor he has seen all night.

"I was seventeen. A minor, Rafe. You could go to jail for that," she snaps.

He smiles, cocking his head in a manner that says he isn't all that worried about his chances of going to jail. "You always act like I took advantage of you. Sweetheart, even if you hadn't begged me to screw you, we both know there's nothing you could have done to stop me."

It's her turn to scoff. "Am I suppose to thank you? You don't get an award for not being a fucking predator." She spits out the last part, and it causes a few heads to turn in their direction.

Among those heads, Rafe notices the blonde one of Malcolm; aka his sign that he needs to excuse himself. "Bitch," he mutters as he shoves past her.

She catches his arm before he can get too far. "Bathroom. Ten minutes.”

It is actually a grand total of twenty minutes before she finds Rafe in the small guest bathroom. Armie had remained glue to her side for another fifteen minutes and even after she managed to escape him, she was stopped by multiple friends of her father’s, asking how college was going and whatnot.

Nevertheless, Rafe waits for her. Each minute after ten, he promised himself he wouldn’t wait another, but the truth is he would have waited all night.

“Fuck. I’ve been thinking about this dress all damn night,” Rafe groans, grabbing a handful of her green velvet covered ass. His other hand is around her chin, guiding her mouth so that he can kiss her against the wall. Their mouths collide so bruisingly that for a moment he considers if he’s just broken his nose. Rafe doesn’t dwell on the possibility for too long because he’s been achingly hard for over twenty minute now and he won’t make it one more without coming in his pants. There’s only one place he’s coming tonight and it’s inside of her.

“I knew you were always a perv, Cameron,” she huffs out as he pulls away from the kiss to unbuckle his slacks and pull down his boxers. The length of him springs out against his stomach. Just looking at the size of him makes her legs shake. Much to her disappointment, he’s forcing her around, hips pressed against the counter before she can ogle at the sight of him for long.

Rafe slips into her as though it were a well practiced move and not something he hasn’t done in over a year. He still knows his way around her body.

She nearly yelps in surprise at the sudden intrusion. “Jesus—”

“Shut up,” he snaps, breathing hard. Just the feeling of her around him is enough to make him spill right now and he’s trying to hold on a while longer. Stomach burning with the effort of not coming, he bucks, just once to satiate himself, into her. The feeling is overwhelming.

Not pleased with his sudden lack of performance, she consciously clenches around him. “Are you going to fuck me or what because I’m sure Armie—”

Rafe cuts her off by drilling his hips back into her once more, this time much more forcefully, and her pelvis hits the counter. That is going to bruise. Rafe grabs a fist full of her dark hair. “I’m going to fuck you so good you forget his goddamn name. I don’t want to hear it again. You hear me?”

Eyes locked with his in the mirror, she nods quickly, desperate to let him have his way with her. “Fuck. Yeah, Rafe. Please just fuck me.”

Without wasting anymore time adjusting to the feel of her, Rafe begins thrusting his hips rhythmically at a ridiculous pace. The hot heat of her seems to suck him back in each time and he wonders if she’s like this for him. Armand. By the way she’s panting, moaning against the counter, he would say no.

As weird of a thing that it is to say, there are people who are good at sex, and then there are people who are great at sex. Rafe is one of those people. She’s never been with another guy who fucks her like Rafe does. It’s raw and filthy and animalistic.

Just when she think he’s as deep as he can be, he shuffles a bit, readjusting himself to get a better angle and hit a spot inside of her that tears a cry from her throat.

“Oh fuck— Please, Rafe. That’s it. That’s enough. I can’t—” When she starts begging for him to stop is when he knows she’s close. She’s always been too prideful to tell him when she’s close and it pisses him off to no end. He slows his pounding to get in a few more drawn out thrusts. The head of him catches inside of her and she cries at the sensation.

“There you go, there you go,” he groans, finding the breath to encourage her to finish as he struggles to control himself. “Feel me? Atta girl, you’re right there. Right there, baby.”

Crying out a moan, her head falls back as she orgasms, her walls fluttering in protest around him. The shock last for several long seconds throughout her entire body, and she contemplates if she’s ever going to be satisfied by another orgasm ever again. Even after, the electric buzzing sensation remains, and she remembers that Rafe is still throbbing inside of her.

Without warning, he thrusts into her a couple more times before finding his own orgasm. With his nose pressed into her hair, mouth right next to her ear, Rafe moans as he releases inside of her, and he hears her breath hitch at the sound. As if he needed proof of the fiery ball that had been pent up in his stomach all evening, he spills and spills and spill inside of her. It leaves him trembling by the time he’s done.

“Fuck,” he groans.

“Fuck,” she repeats, humoring him. He almost laughs but he doesn’t think he had the energy left for it.

Slowly moving again, the noise that his dick makes fucking into her, his cum dripping out is obscene, but he wants to savor the hot mess of her around him for as long as he can.

Smugly, he catches her gaze in the mirror, watching himself move in and out of her. The mascara under her eyes is smudged, making her searing gaze all that much darker. Rafe thinks she always looks perfect no matter what. He does have a bias towards ‘freshly fucked’ though.

As much as he would like to remain pressed against her —and in her— he knows she’ll only tolerate him for so long. So with a final sigh, he presses a prolonged and affectionate kiss to her hair and pulls out of her. As she fixes her dress, he tucks his still-leaking dick back into his boxers, pulls up his pants and watches her walk out the bathroom without a word. Rafe waits a respectful few minutes after her to make his exit.

Feeling truly fucked out, no pun intended, he heads over to the bar, where he spots her with her boyfriend, his arm wrapped low around her waist as he kisses her cheek. He needs a fucking drink, he thinks. And then, probably something stronger.

—

There are very few things that can rouse her from the dead sleep that she gets in her childhood bedroom. Coming home to the plush baby blue comforter that covers her perfectly made bed is like downing a handful of melatonin gummies after sleeping on a crummy twin mattress for nine months. Despite this usually holding true, Armie is the only one dead asleep beside her.

'I’m going to fuck you so good you forget his goddamn name.' The memory keeps replaying in her head. The perfect infliction of his voice down to the scent of him as he leaned in is marred into her memory. He still wears the same cologne.

Without warning, her phone on the bedside table blares to life, ringing loudly, and the bright screen illuminates the mostly dark bedroom. Scrambling to shut it off before the commotion wakes Armie up, her immediate response is to swipe the answer button.

"Hello?" she asks, her voice hushed, into the phone.

"I need you, (y/n)."

Rafe's voice transfers crystal clear through the receiver, like he's not even trying to be quiet.

"Rafe?" Cupping her hand over the speaker and pressing the device closer to her ear, her eyebrows furrow as she hurriedly swings her legs over the side of the bed and quickly tiptoes out into the hall."Rafe?" she asks, this time louder now that Armie can't hear her. "Are you fucking cra—"

"I—I don't know, I don't know, I don't know. I— fuck, (y/n). I just—" He's rambling, his smooth as honey voice much thicker than usual and notably less precise. He sniffs, loudly.

She sighs as he tries to collect himself over the line, mumbling and stuttering. "Why do you only call me when you're high, Cameron? I mean, seriously?" This is not the first time he's phoned her in the middle of the night, high out of his mind.

Rubbing her hand over her eyes, she checks the clock on the wall. It's well past 3 am. There's a slim chance she will even get any sleep at this point.

"Listen, (y/n). I–I just—"

"No, you listen," she snaps, cutting him off. "You'd better be at your house when I get there or else. Got it?"

She can hear him swallow over the phone and something crashes to the floor. "Yeah— I— yeah, I will. I will."

"Okay, bye."

"Bye."

It helps that the Cameron's live only a few houses down. In reality, no one lives very far from anyone in the Outer Banks. Figure Eight is only a bike ride away from the Cut.

With the majority of the Cameron household likely asleep, and not caring to wake up Ward, she walks in without knocking. She'd never knocked before and wasn't about to make a habit of it now. Creeping slowly through the entryway, her sneakers echo loudly on the pristine tile floor. She knows this house like the back of her hand and therefore has no difficulty in navigating it in the dark. Around her, the house is still.

"Ra—" A hand clamps around her mouth from behind, effectively cutting of her startled shriek. Shoving his heavy body off of her, she whirls around to face him. "What are you doing?" she whispers loudly, shoving his hands away.

"I didn't want to scare you," Rafe defends, his blue eyes shining even in the darkness.

Shoving him once more in the chest, hard for good measure, she moves past him into the kitchen and flips the light on. Now that she can actually see, she steps back to take him in.

His pupils are blown, leaving very little of the blue of his eyes distinguishable. The suit jacket from earlier in the evening is gone, but everything else, from his dress shoes to the the white button up shirt underneath remain. Half of the top buttons of his shirt are open, revealing the golden skin of his chest. Nervously, he rubs at the back of his neck, where the short crop of his buzz cut fades.

"(y/n), I—," Rafe begins, stepping towards her.

"Shut up, Rafe."

His head fogged with the determination to get her to just listen to him, he ignores her instruction. "C'mon, baby. I just—"

"Shut up, Rafe," she repeats, sterner this time. She knows his head is not in the right place at the moment, and he needs to get it together if they're going to have this conversation.

"I need—"

"I said shut up!"

Finally something must reach the inside of that thick skull of his and Rafe immediately clamps his jaw shut. Now silent other than his heavy breathing, his big doe eyes watch her attentively.

She stares at him for a moment, using the quiet to gather her thoughts. Seeing him like this tears her up a little inside and it’s hard to find the right words to say to him. Sure, she treats him like shit most of the time, but that’s because it’s like second nature to the two of them. Fucking is the only thing they’re both good at.

She knows somewhere behind his drug induced haze, he’s really just a scared little kid. Most people take one look at Rafe and assume he’s just another screw up, destined to end up mooching off the Cameron family inheritance for the rest of his life. But she knows deep down that he has it in him to be better.

“You gotta stop, Rafe.” That’s the most honest and genuine sentence she’s spoken to him in a year. “This is not some prodigal son fairytale where you just get to walk away from it all when you decide to get your shit together. This is real life.” Her voice has risen towards the end and his already glossy eyes look wet.

Rafe can count on one hand the number of times he’s cried in his life, especially in front of someone else. His emotions tend to teeter from slightly cocksure to overwhelming rage without much of a grey area. But right now his throat feels tight and his eyes burn and he’s coming pretty damn close. And maybe it’s from the coke he snorted earlier but even that’s starting to wear off. He knows because his head isn’t swimming anymore and his eyeballs don’t feel like they’re rolling around in their sockets.

Fighting the swell of emotion that is threatening to erupt out of his chest, he looks up, tongue pressed into the inside of his cheek, suddenly not wanting to look in her eyes. Rafe finally nods, sniffing hard while he gathers himself. “I know,” he whispers, the noise barley even audible.

Still nodding to himself, he settles his gaze back on her. “And I know you think that this is the cocaine talking, but I promise you it’s not. I mean it when I say I need you.” Timidly, he paces towards her from across the kitchen. “I—I need your help. I need you. I—”

While he continues to ramble, she hushes him as he rests his chin in the crook of her neck. One hand cups the back of his head while the other rubs his shoulder through the soft cotton of his shirt. “Okay. You’re okay,” she murmurs into his ear, still holding onto him as he sinks to his knees on the kitchen floor. He’s tall enough that his head meets the middle of her stomach even on the floor.

Rafe can’t recall the last time anyone has held him so carefully before. But he does know that it feels wildly more intimate than any sort of sex they’ve ever had. Drowsy with relief and crashing from his high, he almost asks her if she loves him. It would be so easy to breathe the words, but instead he closes his eyes and lets her hold him a while longer.

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