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velvrei · 3 months ago

Text

no more secrets

…

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

summary: you and rafe cameron have always been enemies, constantly throwing sharp insults and making it clear to everyone that you can’t stand each other. but when a summer trip with your friends forces you to share a bed, everything starts to shift. one stolen kiss turns into another, and suddenly, all the years of hatred don’t matter anymore. what started as a fight has become something neither of you can ignore, and now, there’s no going back.

word count: 12k

nsfw below the cut

…

you never thought you’d find yourself back here—back at the outer banks for the summer. a whole year had passed, and though you hadn’t expected anything to change, it felt like everything had. the dynamic of your friend group had shifted in subtle ways, yet one thing remained constant: rafe cameron.

you weren’t even exactly sure how rafe had managed to worm his way into this trip. from what you gathered, sarah had extended an invite to topper, and where topper went, rafe wasn’t far behind. maybe she had hoped he wouldn’t actually take her up on the offer, or maybe she just wanted to avoid another screaming match between them. either way, he was here now, standing in the middle of your friend group like he belonged, and it made your skin crawl.

he had always been a pain in your side, even before you really knew what the difference was between pogues and kooks. you had grown up on the outskirts of this rivalry, always teetering somewhere in between, but rafe… he embodied everything that made the kooks so infuriating to you. smug, entitled, and seemingly incapable of leaving you alone. every time you were in the same room, he made it his personal mission to annoy you, always one step away from crossing the line into something far more personal.

so, when the summer trip rolled around and the usual group of friends—john b, kiara, pope, and sarah—had all decided to escape their hectic lives for a few days, you were less than thrilled to find out rafe would be tagging along.

“you know, you could’ve just stayed home,” you muttered to kiara as you helped unpack the car.

she shot you a playful grin. “you know how it is. rafe’s like a bad penny. no matter how hard we try to get rid of him, he just keeps showing up.”

“well, i don’t know how i’m supposed to survive a weekend with that jerk.”

kiara chuckled, but there was a touch of sympathy in her voice. “maybe this will be a chance for you two to, i don’t know, bury the hatchet.”

“we’re not burying anything,” you shot back, your jaw tightening. “rafe cameron and i will never be friends.”

the group carried on, the sounds of laughter and chatter filling the air as you made your way to the beach house. it wasn’t a grand mansion by any means, but it was a perfect getaway—a little house on the sand where all of you had made some of the best memories.

when everyone started heading inside to claim their rooms, you realized there was one problem: there weren’t enough beds for everyone. you had counted the rooms and figured out that each room had two twin beds. usually, you could’ve easily taken the couch or bunked with one of the others—but you quickly realized that the room that was left with the two beds was the one shared by you and rafe. your stomach dropped.

“no,” you muttered under your breath, shaking your head. “this can’t be happening.”

you tried to scan the situation, hoping for some miraculous solution, but it was clear that there were no other options. everyone had already claimed their spots, and as much as you would’ve liked to sleep on the floor, you weren’t about to give rafe the satisfaction of watching you suffer.

“what’s the matter?” rafe’s voice came from behind you. “scared of a little company?” he said, his signature grin spreading across his face. he was leaning against the doorframe, arms casually folded as if he’d just orchestrated the whole thing himself.

“you can’t be serious,” you replied, eyes narrowing.

“you’ve got two choices, sweetheart,” he continued, the teasing tone thick in his voice. “either we share the bed, or you sleep on the floor.”

“i’d rather sleep on the floor,” you retorted, already preparing yourself to protest.

“suit yourself,” rafe said, shrugging nonchalantly. “but we both know that’s not happening. so, what’ll it be?”

you took a deep breath, already frustrated beyond belief. “i’m not sharing a bed with you. absolutely not.”

he raised an eyebrow. “what’s the matter? afraid i might try something funny?”

“don’t flatter yourself,” you snapped, turning away from him to start gathering your things. “there’s no way in hell i’m letting you ruin this weekend.”

but he just chuckled, a low, almost dangerous sound. “who says i’m the one ruining it?”

…

the evening came quickly, the last remnants of daylight disappearing as the group settled in for the night. despite the initial tension, everyone seemed eager to relax. john b and pope started pulling out cards for a game, and kiara joined sarah in the kitchen to prepare a snack.

but you couldn’t focus on any of that. the only thing you could think about was the fact that, in just a few minutes, you were going to be forced to share a room—and a bed—with rafe. it felt like a cruel joke, and you couldn’t shake the feeling of unease settling in the pit of your stomach.

“you know,” rafe’s voice broke through your thoughts as you moved to the shared room. “this doesn’t have to be a big deal.”

you whipped around to face him. “what do you mean?” you demanded, your heart hammering against your chest.

he was already sitting on one of the beds, casually tossing his stuff aside. “we can just… deal with it. we’re adults. no drama.”

you crossed your arms over your chest, unwilling to let go of the frustration that had been simmering inside you since you’d seen him walk through the door earlier. “i don’t want to ‘deal with it,’ rafe. i want a solution.”

“fine,” he said, clearly not as bothered as you were. “you can sleep on the floor. i don’t mind.”

but the idea of actually doing that, laying down on the floor and being uncomfortable for the whole weekend, didn’t sit right with you. there had to be another way.

“i’ll just take the bed by the wall,” you said finally, clearly not happy with the arrangement but wanting to get it over with.

rafe shrugged. “whatever you say.”

but as the night went on and everyone else drifted off to sleep, you found it impossible to ignore the tension between you. even in the dim light of the room, the air felt thick, charged with something neither of you could fully express.

you both lay in silence, and for a while, it almost seemed like maybe you could manage to get through the night without any more conflict. but then rafe shifted in the bed next to you, the sound of the sheets crinkling loud in the quiet room.

“hey,” he said softly, breaking the silence. “just so you know, i’m not gonna bite.”

you scoffed, turning your head to look at him. “good to know, rafe. i’m not interested.”

there was a pause before he spoke again. “you sure about that? i mean… we’re stuck here. might as well make the best of it.”

you rolled your eyes, frustrated. “the best of it? you think i’m going to suddenly be okay with this situation? we’ve hated each other for years.”

“maybe it’s time to stop hating me,” rafe said, his voice low, almost sincere. “you know, it’s exhausting for both of us.”

you blinked, his words catching you off guard. it wasn’t often that rafe was anything but annoying. but now, in the stillness of the room, you started to wonder if he might actually be serious for once.

…

you lay there, staring at the ceiling, your mind racing. rafe’s words had thrown you off, not that you would ever admit it to him. after all, you had spent years keeping your distance from him, and you weren’t about to change that now. you could feel the heat of his presence beside you, and even though you were trying to keep your distance, it was impossible to ignore how close you were.

the bed creaked as rafe shifted again, a sound that made your heart beat just a little bit faster. “you know,” he said, his voice breaking the silence. “you don’t have to keep acting like you hate me.”

you gritted your teeth, keeping your gaze firmly fixed on the ceiling, trying not to show how much his words bothered you. “i don’t hate you, rafe,” you said, your voice a little sharper than you intended. “i just don’t like you.”

“big difference,” he replied, his tone light and teasing. you could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “you don’t have to like me, but we can at least be civil. it’s a small price to pay for peace, don’t you think?”

you bit your lip, your body tense. what was it about his voice that made your pulse quicken? it was always the same with rafe—he had this way of speaking that was confident, teasing, like he knew exactly how to push your buttons, how to make you react. and even though you hated it, there was a small part of you that couldn’t help but feel… intrigued.

“i’m not interested in making peace with you, rafe,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “so don’t get any ideas.”

“who says i’m getting ideas?” he responded smoothly, his voice so close now that you could practically feel him next to you. “i’m just trying to be friendly. you know, for the sake of… well, the sake of not sleeping on the floor.”

you felt a heat rise in your cheeks, and you quickly turned your head toward the wall, hoping he wouldn’t notice. but of course, rafe wasn’t that easy to escape. you could almost feel the smirk on his lips as he shifted again, closer this time. “you sure you don’t want to move a little closer? just to make sure we both fit in the bed.”

“don’t push it, cameron,” you snapped, a little louder this time, though your heart rate was picking up, betraying the calm exterior you tried so hard to maintain.

you could hear the amusement in his voice as he replied, “oh, i’m just getting started, sweetheart.”

you swallowed, your body still tense. despite yourself, you couldn’t help but feel an odd pull toward him. you had spent years hating rafe—no, disliking him, but this new, almost teasing side of him, the one that was getting under your skin in ways you weren’t prepared for, was beginning to shift something inside you.

“you know,” he continued, his voice quieter now, almost intimate, “we don’t have to keep pretending we don’t like each other. maybe… just maybe, we could get along. ever think of that?”

you hesitated, unsure how to respond. it was so typical of rafe—always pushing boundaries, always trying to make things more complicated than they needed to be. but the more he spoke, the more you found yourself questioning everything you thought you knew about him.

“you’re still the same, rafe,” you finally muttered, turning your head back toward the wall. “you always know how to make everything awkward.”

“aw, come on,” he said, his voice close enough now that you could feel the heat radiating off him. “you’re not telling me you don’t like a little bit of awkward tension. gives life some flavor.”

you couldn’t help but scoff. “you’re unbelievable.”

“maybe,” he said with a chuckle, his voice lowering even more. “but you like it. i can tell.”

your pulse quickened again, your heart thudding in your chest. there was no way he was serious, right? but the playful edge in his voice suggested otherwise.

“you’re delusional,” you replied, but your words felt weaker now, and you hated that.

“maybe,” he murmured. “but you’re not denying it.”

the silence in the room stretched, and you could feel your breath coming a little faster, the tension between you both thickening in the quiet darkness. you couldn’t decide if you were annoyed or… something else. but either way, rafe was always this way—provoking, teasing, and somehow making everything seem more complicated than it had to be.

“don’t get any ideas,” you said, though this time it came out quieter than you intended. “i’m still not interested.”

but even as you said the words, you knew there was a part of you that wasn’t entirely convinced. rafe cameron had this way of getting under your skin, of making you doubt everything you thought you knew about him—and about yourself.

“we’ll see,” he said softly, and you could hear the amusement in his voice. “we’ll see, sweetheart.”

the night seemed to drag on, the stillness of the room almost unbearable. despite your best efforts, you couldn’t ignore the fact that rafe’s presence was still close, his proximity weighing heavily on your mind. you kept telling yourself to ignore it, to just focus on the ceiling and try to fall asleep. but the heat in the room, the sound of his breathing, and the way his voice lingered in the air—it all made it impossible to fully relax.

you could hear him shift again, the soft rustle of the sheets as he moved. and then, out of nowhere, you felt it. the lightest brush of his hand against yours. it wasn’t an accident, not in the way his fingers lingered for just a moment too long. your heart skipped a beat, and you instantly pulled your hand away, a rush of heat flooding your cheeks.

“oops,” rafe said, his voice laced with a teasing tone, though you could hear something else in it—something almost… playful. “didn’t mean to make you nervous.”

you clenched your jaw, forcing yourself not to react, but you could feel your skin burning, betraying your attempt to stay calm. “keep your hands to yourself,” you muttered, though it came out quieter than you intended.

“don’t worry,” he responded, his voice a little softer now, the teasing edge gone. “i’m just getting comfortable.”

you turned your head toward him, unable to stop yourself. “comfort is a little overrated when you’re sharing a bed with someone you don’t exactly get along with.”

rafe turned to face you, his eyes gleaming in the dim light of the room. “maybe you just need to get used to it.”

you weren’t sure what to make of that. was he genuinely trying to make things easier between you two, or was this just another one of his games? but then, for the briefest of moments, there was something different in his gaze—something that made your pulse quicken in ways you didn’t want to admit. it wasn’t the usual cocky glint you were used to seeing; there was something else, something raw and unspoken.

“maybe i do,” you said, voice barely above a whisper. your own words surprised you, and for a second, you wondered if you had just given him the upper hand. but rafe didn’t respond immediately. instead, he just stared at you, his gaze intense, searching.

the air between you two shifted, like a silent understanding passed through the room, something neither of you were willing to acknowledge just yet. but it was there, hanging thick and undeniable.

“you know,” rafe said after a long pause, his voice quieter now, almost reflective, “you’ve got this wall up, and i get it. but sometimes… you’ve gotta let it down, even just a little. or else it’ll keep you from seeing things clearly.”

you swallowed, unsure how to respond. rafe wasn’t the kind of person who usually made you think about things like that. he was the one who made everything complicated, the one who always had a comeback, a retort to whatever you threw his way. but tonight, his words felt different—more serious, more… vulnerable.

“what are you talking about?” you asked, trying to deflect, to push him back into his usual smug persona.

“you know exactly what i mean,” he said, his voice soft but sure. “you don’t have to keep pretending you don’t want to get along. we’re not enemies, you and me. we’ve just been playing this game for too long.”

“you think it’s a game?” you said, the sharpness in your voice returning.

“no,” he said, his voice tinged with a hint of sincerity you hadn’t expected. “but sometimes… it feels like one.”

you turned over, finally meeting his gaze directly. for a moment, neither of you said anything. the only sound in the room was the steady rhythm of your breathing, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt like you were seeing rafe for who he really was, not just the arrogant jerk who constantly got under your skin.

“you’re not as bad as you act,” you said quietly, the words slipping out before you could stop them. the moment you said it, you felt a strange sense of vulnerability, but also relief, as though a weight had been lifted off your chest. rafe was quiet for a moment, and you couldn’t read his expression in the dim light. but then, he smiled—softly, almost as if he were relieved himself.

“you’re not as bad as you act either,” he replied, his voice low, almost intimate.

there it was again—something between you two that neither of you could fully explain. it was almost like the tension had shifted, becoming something different, something less about hate and more about… something else.

you closed your eyes, not sure if you were ready to face whatever was happening between you. “this is messed up,” you said, though you weren’t sure if you were talking about the situation or your own emotions. you just didn’t know what to make of it anymore.

“maybe it’s just real,” rafe said, his voice barely a whisper. “maybe we’ve been pretending for so long that we’ve forgotten what it’s like to just… be.”

the quiet stretched on between you two, both of you lost in your own thoughts. and though you weren’t sure where this conversation would lead, or where the night would take you, for the first time, you didn’t feel as much of a barrier between you and rafe. instead, there was this strange sense of… something new.

the room felt smaller now, the space between you and rafe more charged than it had been before. every shift of the sheets, every slight movement in the bed seemed to amplify the tension, making it harder to breathe. you still couldn’t tell if this was some twisted game or if rafe was actually being genuine.

but as you lay there, trying to ignore the warmth of his presence beside you, it felt like you were at a crossroads. neither of you could take back the words you had just said, and for the first time, you started to wonder if maybe—just maybe—things between you could be different.

“you know,” rafe said, breaking the silence, his voice unusually quiet, “it’s not so bad, sharing a bed with you.”

you shot him a glare, but there was a faint blush creeping up your neck that you couldn’t quite hide. “don’t push it, cameron,” you snapped, your heart racing for reasons you didn’t want to acknowledge.

“oh, come on,” rafe teased, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you. “you’re not as bad as everyone makes you out to be.” his voice was still low, but there was a distinct playfulness to it now, almost as if he were daring you to respond.

you rolled your eyes, trying to push down the fluttering sensation in your chest. “keep talking, rafe. eventually, i’ll start to believe you.”

his chuckle was warm, almost lazy, as he shifted just slightly closer to you. “well, that’s the idea, isn’t it? get you to believe me. you’ve had this wall up for so long, and maybe it’s time to let it come down.”

you swallowed, unsure how to react to that. it wasn’t like rafe to speak so openly, so… vulnerably. but it was also hard to ignore the fact that he wasn’t exactly wrong.

you did have a wall up. for years, you had kept yourself distanced from him, convinced that you’d never let him in. but now, lying beside him, so close you could feel the heat of his skin even through the sheets, that wall seemed less and less necessary.

“i’m not sure i’m ready to let you in, rafe,” you muttered, though even as you said the words, you weren’t sure if they were meant to protect yourself or push him away. you didn’t want to admit it, but a part of you was starting to realize that maybe you didn’t want to keep him out anymore. maybe, just maybe, you were starting to question everything.

“don’t worry,” he said smoothly, his voice dripping with that signature confidence that made your heart race. “i’m not asking for anything you’re not ready to give.”

you wanted to snap back at him, to tell him that he was still the same cocky jerk he’d always been, but for some reason, you couldn’t find the words. instead, you turned your head, your gaze catching his in the dim light of the room. there was something in his eyes—something that wasn’t just playful or teasing, but sincere. the shift was subtle, but it was there, and it made your breath catch in your throat.

“you’re impossible,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“and yet, here you are,” he replied, his lips curling into a small, almost teasing smile. “stuck in bed with me.”

you rolled your eyes, but this time, the usual irritation wasn’t there. it was almost… endearing. you had always thought rafe was impossible to stand, but now, you weren’t so sure. he had a way of getting under your skin in the most infuriating, but strangely captivating way.

“you’re lucky i’m not kicking you out of this bed,” you said, though the words held no real threat. deep down, you knew that if you really wanted to leave, you could. but the idea of leaving… of going back to the discomfort of being on the floor or sleeping apart from him, didn’t seem as appealing anymore. in fact, it was starting to sound downright lonely.

“why would you kick me out?” rafe asked, his tone light, but there was a glint in his eyes that made your pulse spike. “i’m just getting comfortable. and you’re not exactly complaining.”

you flushed, the heat spreading across your chest and up to your cheeks. you quickly turned your back to him, hoping he wouldn’t notice. but it was too late. the grin in his voice was unmistakable.

“oh, i see,” he said, his voice dropping lower. “you’re just playing hard to get, huh?”

you could practically hear the smirk on his lips, and though you wanted to protest, to tell him that that wasn’t it at all, you couldn’t bring yourself to. the truth was, you had been playing hard to get, and the longer you were in his presence, the more you realized how much harder it was to keep up the act.

you could feel the distance between you two closing with every passing second, the tension in the room thickening until it was almost suffocating. it wasn’t like you were giving in to rafe, but for the first time, you didn’t feel the need to fight it. something had shifted, and it left you feeling a mix of confusion and anticipation.

“you’re really something else,” you said, your voice a little shaky as you turned back to face him, your eyes meeting his in the low light. “do you always talk like this?”

“only when i’m getting under your skin,” he said, a playful edge returning to his voice. “which, let’s be honest, is basically all the time.”

you opened your mouth to retort, but the words died on your lips as you realized something. he was right. he was always getting under your skin. but now, instead of feeling irritated by it, you found yourself… enjoying it? the realization hit you like a wave, and before you could stop yourself, you found yourself closer to him, your body slightly turned toward his.

“you’re really pushing your luck, rafe,” you said, your voice barely more than a whisper, though there was an undeniable softness to it now.

he leaned in just a fraction closer, his lips curling into a smirk. “luck’s got nothing to do with it,” he replied softly. “it’s all about timing.”

the distance between you was closing. you could feel the tension in the air, the chemistry crackling between you, undeniable and impossible to ignore. this wasn’t the same banter, the same bickering that you’d grown used to over the years. this felt… different. it felt like something else entirely.

you didn’t know what to do with that feeling. you didn’t know what it meant. but as rafe’s eyes flickered down to your lips, and as his breath hitched ever so slightly, you realized that maybe—just maybe—you were both finally ready to stop pretending.

…

the sunlight was bright and blinding, the morning warmth on the beach only making the awkward tension between you and rafe feel more pronounced. the rest of the group was scattered across the sand, laughing and joking, trying to make the most of the perfect summer day. the air was filled with the sound of waves crashing against the shore and the occasional bursts of laughter from your friends.

but despite the carefree vibe surrounding you, you couldn’t shake the memory of last night—the way rafe’s voice had softened, the teasing edge replaced with something deeper, something almost… intimate. you could still feel the heat of his body beside you in the bed, the way he’d made you question everything you’d spent years building up.

but now, with the group around you, it was as if nothing had changed. rafe was back to his usual smug self, his posture cocky as ever, the smirk never far from his lips.

you tried to ignore him, focusing instead on setting up your towel and trying to act as if last night hadn’t happened. maybe you could forget it all, pretend like the weird shift in the air hadn’t thrown you off balance.

but rafe wasn’t about to make it easy.

you felt him approach from behind, his voice carrying over the sound of the waves. “you’re not going to ignore me all day, are you?”

you straightened up and turned to face him, giving him your best glare. “what makes you think I’m ignoring you?” you snapped, crossing your arms over your chest.

“i mean, you haven’t even looked at me once,” he teased, taking a step closer. “but don’t worry, i won’t take it personally.” his voice was light, but there was a subtle smirk on his face, like he was waiting for you to react.

you rolled your eyes, turning away from him to settle down on your towel. “maybe i’m just too busy to care about your dumb comments,” you said, attempting to brush him off.

rafe chuckled behind you, his footsteps getting closer. “uh-huh, sure,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “you know, you’re really good at pretending. but we both know that you care a little more than you want to admit.”

you stiffened, your heart racing for a split second, but you quickly masked it with an exaggerated sigh. “stop talking,” you muttered, wishing you could just get through the day without the usual banter.

you could hear the amusement in rafe’s voice as he sat down next to you, too close for comfort. “you know, you could just admit it,” he said, his voice low enough for only you to hear. “it’d make things a lot easier.”

“admit what?” you snapped, finally turning to face him, your voice sharp. “that i like you? don’t be ridiculous.”

his eyes sparkled with mischief, and you could see the playful grin forming on his lips. “who said anything about liking me?” he responded, leaning in slightly, making your breath hitch. “i was just saying, it wouldn’t hurt to admit that you’re a little into me.”

you felt your cheeks flush at the unexpected closeness between you two, but you quickly pushed the feeling down. “you’re delusional if you think that’s happening,” you said, fighting the urge to look away from his intense gaze. “i can’t stand you, rafe.”

rafe didn’t respond immediately. instead, he just sat there, looking at you with that same teasing smile, his eyes twinkling as if he knew something you didn’t. “maybe you don’t hate me as much as you want everyone to think,” he said, his voice soft but laced with that familiar flirty tone.

you couldn’t bring yourself to answer him. the truth was, his words were starting to get to you. maybe you didn’t hate him. Maybe you were starting to feel something more, but you refused to admit it. especially not in front of everyone.

you looked away, focusing on the group gathered near the water. jj, pope, and kiara were talking about some ridiculous plan for later in the day, but you knew rafe wouldn’t drop it. he never did.

“you’re lucky i’m not kicking you into the ocean right now,” you muttered, trying to keep your voice even, but even you could hear the slight quiver in your words.

“oh, i’m sure you would, but let’s be real,” he said, his voice dropping a bit lower. “you couldn’t handle not having me around.”

you shot him a glare, but the playful smirk on his face told you that he was enjoying this far too much. you could feel the growing tension between you two, but now wasn’t the time to let it show. not with the group around.

“don’t flatter yourself,” you said, brushing off his comment. you leaned back on your towel, determined to ignore him. “i’m fine without you.”

“we’ll see about that,” rafe said, his tone casual, but there was something in his eyes—something that made your heart race in spite of yourself. you looked away quickly, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing your reaction.

the group started to gather their things, getting ready to head to a different part of the beach, but rafe stayed where he was, still sitting next to you. it was clear he wasn’t going to let this go anytime soon.

you tried to shake the feeling of his presence, but it lingered—impossible to ignore. his words were still in your head, swirling around with the memory of last night. you knew you had to keep up the act, at least in front of the others, but the truth was, you weren’t sure how long you could keep pretending anymore. the line between enemies and… whatever this was, was starting to blur, and it scared you more than you wanted to admit.

“hey,” rafe said, breaking the silence as the others began to move down the beach. “i’m just saying, if you ever do want to stop pretending, i’ll be here.”

you turned to look at him, unsure if he was serious or just messing with you again. “i’m not pretending,” you said, even though you weren’t sure who you were trying to convince more—him or yourself.

rafe raised an eyebrow, the smirk never leaving his face. “sure, sweetheart. whatever you say.”

you wanted to say more, to finally get this whole thing out in the open, but you couldn’t. not here, not now. not when the whole group was watching you both.

so, instead, you stood up quickly, brushing the sand off your towel and turning away from him. “let’s go,” you muttered, trying to mask the pounding of your heart. “i’m ready to get away from you for a little while.”

rafe didn’t say anything as he stood up beside you, walking with you toward the rest of the group. but as you walked, you could feel his presence right behind you—close enough that you could almost feel his breath against the back of your neck. and for the first time in a long while, you didn’t mind.

…

the night had settled in, and the house was quiet except for the soft hum of the air conditioning and the occasional sound of waves crashing in the distance.

the rest of the group had gone to bed, leaving the house in a peaceful, almost eerie stillness. you lay in your bed, staring at the ceiling, the silence amplifying the thoughts that had been swirling in your mind for hours.

sleep wasn’t coming easily tonight—not after everything that had happened today. the teasing, the playful comments, and that unspoken tension between you and rafe that seemed to grow stronger with each passing moment.

you shifted uncomfortably under the blankets, feeling the weight of it all. you couldn’t keep pretending forever. the more you tried to distance yourself from rafe, the more you found yourself wanting to be close to him.

maybe you’d been kidding yourself, thinking you could keep up the act of being enemies when every part of you was yearning to cross the line and finally admit what you were feeling.

but admitting it meant letting go of everything you thought you knew. and you weren’t sure you were ready for that.

your throat was dry, and the heat of the room was starting to feel unbearable.

maybe a drink of water would clear your mind.

maybe it would help you forget that you couldn’t stop thinking about rafe cameron.

you slid out of bed as quietly as you could, careful not to wake anyone else. the floorboards creaked slightly under your feet as you tiptoed out of your room and down the hallway, the cool air of the kitchen beckoning you.

you didn’t expect anyone else to be up at this hour. you’d be alone, just for a few minutes, to gather your thoughts and hopefully stop your mind from racing.

but as you reached the kitchen, you were startled to find that you weren’t alone.

rafe was standing by the counter, his back to you, a glass of water in his hand.

the dim light from the refrigerator cast a soft glow over him, making his profile look almost… intimate. you froze for a moment, not sure if you should turn around and go back to your room or just keep walking. but it was too late. rafe had already noticed you.

“couldn’t sleep?” his voice was low and surprisingly soft, as if he had been expecting you. he turned to face you, his eyes flickering with something you couldn’t quite read.

the usual cocky smirk wasn’t there, replaced by a more serious expression.

you nodded, trying to play it cool. “yeah, just needed some water,” you said, your voice a little quieter than you’d intended.

rafe didn’t respond right away. instead, he just stared at you for a moment, his gaze intense, like he was trying to figure something out.

you could feel the air between you two thickening, the tension from earlier in the day resurfacing in the stillness of the night.

“yeah, me too,” he said after a beat, his voice almost too casual. he took a sip from his glass before placing it back on the counter, his eyes never leaving yours. “we’ve been pretty… tense today, haven’t we?”

you swallowed, the words catching in your throat. “what are you talking about?” you asked, your voice sharper than you meant it to be.

you didn’t want to admit that you’d felt the same thing—that the air had been thick with something unspoken, something that made it harder to ignore him.

rafe smirked, taking a slow step toward you. “don’t act like you don’t feel it,” he said, his voice soft, almost a whisper. “you know what i’m talking about.”

you took a step back, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “you’re imagining things,” you said, but your words felt hollow in the space between you two.

your heart was pounding, and you couldn’t help but notice how close he was now, the space between you two shrinking with every passing second.

rafe didn’t say anything. instead, he took another step closer, and you could feel the heat radiating off his body, the intensity of his gaze making it impossible to look away.

the playful teasing from earlier was gone, replaced by something else entirely. something raw and undeniable.

“you know,” he said, his voice dropping lower, “it’s funny how we’ve spent all this time pretending like we can’t stand each other. but the truth is…”

he paused, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips, “…neither of us can really stay away, can we?”

you opened your mouth to protest, but the words didn’t come. the truth was, you didn’t know how to respond.

everything in you screamed to deny it, to keep up the front of enemies, but the closer he got, the more you realized how little of that was left. the space between you was so small now, your breath mingling in the cool air.

“rafe…” you started, but your voice faltered when you saw the way he was looking at you.

the cocky grin was gone, replaced by something much more serious. something that made your heart race in a way you couldn’t control.

without thinking, you stepped forward, your hands shaking slightly as you reached out to touch his arm. the moment your skin made contact with his, it was like a spark ignited. everything that had been building up between you two finally broke, crashing down in a wave of heat and desire.

rafe’s eyes darkened, and before you knew it, he was leaning in, his hand coming up to gently cup your face. you could feel his breath on your lips, warm and steady, and your heart skipped a beat. everything else faded away—the sound of the waves, the quiet hum of the house, even the rest of the group that was asleep in their rooms. it was just the two of you now, standing in the middle of the kitchen, the tension between you two finally snapping.

and then, finally, he kissed you.

it wasn’t frantic or rushed, but slow and deliberate, like he was savoring the moment. his lips were soft against yours, and you could feel the heat building between you, the way your body responded to him despite everything you had told yourself. your heart was racing in your chest, and for a moment, you thought you might not be able to breathe, but then rafe’s hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss.

you melted into him, everything you’d been holding back crashing down in that one, perfect moment. you had no idea how long it lasted—minutes? hours?—but when you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, your hearts pounding in the silence of the kitchen.

rafe’s forehead rested against yours, and for the first time since this whole trip had started, everything felt… right. “see?” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “i told you. you can’t stay away.”

you swallowed, your mind racing to catch up with your heart. “i don’t know what just happened,” you admitted, your voice trembling.

“i think we both do,” rafe replied with a smile, his eyes soft now, but still holding that intense gaze. “and i think it’s about time we stop pretending.”

…

the kitchen was still, the only sound filling the space was the rhythmic crash of waves outside and the faint hum of the refrigerator. your lips were still tingling from the kiss, your breath uneven, your heart hammering against your ribcage like it was trying to break free.

you stared at rafe, your fingers still curled slightly where they had gripped his shirt, as if letting go would make this moment disappear. his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your lips, and for the first time, neither of you were speaking. the silence between you wasn’t awkward—it was charged, thick, humming with something neither of you could ignore anymore.

you should’ve pulled away. you should’ve told him this was a mistake, that whatever had just happened couldn’t happen again. but you didn’t. you couldn’t.

rafe’s fingers brushed along the side of your jaw, slow and deliberate, his touch feather-light yet burning in a way that made your stomach twist. “you’re shaking,” he murmured, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

you swallowed hard, your throat dry, but you refused to let him see how much he was getting to you. “i–i’m not,” you lied, but even as the words left your lips, you felt the tremor run through your body.

his lips quirked into a smirk, but it wasn’t the usual cocky one. no, this one was lazy, slow, like he knew exactly what he was doing to you. “you are.” his hand slid from your jaw to your neck, fingers brushing against your pulse point, where he could undoubtedly feel just how fast your heart was racing.

you sucked in a breath, trying to regain some semblance of control. “don’t get cocky, cameron,” you warned, but your voice betrayed you, breathless and weak.

“too late,” he said, his thumb tracing a slow, teasing line along the side of your throat. you shivered, and rafe noticed—of course he did. he tilted his head, looking at you like he was trying to memorize the way you looked right now. flushed, flustered, undone because of him.

“this is a bad idea,” you whispered, more to yourself than to him.

rafe hummed, like he was considering it. “maybe,” he admitted, his lips hovering dangerously close to yours again. “but that doesn’t mean you don’t want it.”

your breath hitched. he was right, and he knew it. you wanted him. you had wanted him for longer than you were willing to admit, and now that the line had been crossed, there was no going back.

you pressed your hands against his chest, not to push him away, but to steady yourself, to ground yourself in reality before you did something you couldn’t take back. “we should go back to bed,” you muttered, though you made no move to step away.

rafe grinned, that damn grin that always got under your skin. “we should,” he agreed. but instead of letting go, he leaned in, his lips barely ghosting over yours, so close you could feel the heat of them but not close enough to actually kiss you.

“rafe,” you warned, but it came out more like a plea.

“hmm?” he murmured, his hands sliding to your waist, his touch lazy and teasing, like he had all the time in the world. “what is it, sweetheart?”

your eyes fluttered shut, your body betraying you as you leaned into him, just slightly. you hated how easily he got under your skin, how quickly he could turn your irritation into something else entirely.

“if you don’t stop,” you said, voice barely above a whisper, “i’m not going to be able to.”

rafe exhaled sharply, his grip on your waist tightening for just a second before he pulled back slightly, just enough to look you in the eyes. something shifted in his expression then—something deeper, something serious.

“then don’t,” he said simply.

and god help you, you didn’t think you could.

…

the air between you two was thick now—so dense, you could practically taste it. every breath, every movement felt like it carried an electric charge. you were so close to rafe now, his lips just inches from yours, the heat radiating between you both impossible to ignore. your hands were still pressed against his chest, feeling the strong, steady beat of his heart, and you hated how it made yours race in response.

“so, what’s stopping you?” rafe’s voice was low, the words dripping with quiet challenge. there was that glimmer in his eyes again—dark, intense, like he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

you could feel the heat creeping up your neck, your cheeks flushing as you tried to hold your ground. “we can’t just—” you started, but the words died in your throat when his hand slid around to your back, pulling you a fraction closer.

“can’t just what?” he whispered, his breath warm against your lips, and you felt the brush of his thumb just beneath your jaw, teasing, as if daring you to say no.

“we’re not supposed to like each other,” you muttered weakly, though the part of you that was holding on to that idea felt far, far away now. everything about him—the way he smelled, the way he moved, the way his eyes never left yours—made it harder to remember why you should resist. why you should pretend that this didn’t feel right.

rafe chuckled softly, the sound almost mocking. “enemies?” he echoed. “you really want to keep pretending that? after everything we’ve been doing? everything we’ve been feeling?” his words sent a shiver down your spine, the weight of them settling over you like a promise.

you opened your mouth to argue, but he cut you off, his lips brushing against yours in a barely-there kiss—one that made your knees weak and your body betray you. it was slow, deliberate, like he was testing the waters, waiting for you to respond. and god help you, you couldn’t help it. you kissed him back, just a little, at first, the softness of it unraveling you, pulling you deeper into him.

“fuck,” rafe muttered under his breath, his hands sliding down to your hips, pulling you flush against him, and you could feel the heat of his body, the undeniable proof of his desire.

you gasped, the sound caught in your throat when you realized just how close he was. and god, it wasn’t just physical. there was something deeper now—an undeniable tension that had built between you two from the moment you’d met. and now, in the middle of the night, the two of you were standing here, alone, and every part of you wanted to ignore the lines you’d drawn and just… let go.

rafe’s lips hovered over yours, his breath ragged. “you’re making this hard, you know that?” His words were like a challenge, daring you to push him away, but the way he said them, the hunger in his voice—he wasn’t really asking for that. Not anymore.

you knew what you should do—what you had to do. this wasn’t a good idea. this wasn’t smart. but in that moment, with him so close, the pull was undeniable.

you let go of the tension in your chest and kissed him again, this time more forcefully, your hands finding their way to his shoulders, feeling the solid muscle beneath your fingertips. you could feel his body tense against yours, the heat building between you both. rafe responded immediately, his hands sliding up your back, pulling you even closer, until there was no space left between you.

his lips moved from your mouth to your neck, pressing soft, hungry kisses against your skin, and you couldn’t stop the small gasp that escaped you. “god, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” rafe muttered, his voice dark and low against your skin.

his words made your heart race, and you couldn’t help the way your body reacted to him—how you wanted more, how you didn’t want to hold back anymore.

“then take it,” you whispered, breathless, your hands threading into his hair, tugging him closer. the moment the words left your lips, rafe wasted no time.

he kissed you again, harder this time, his hands sliding down your back, over the curve of your hips, before he lifted you off the ground effortlessly. you wrapped your legs around him instinctively, your body already betraying any remnants of resistance.

you don’t know when you stopped hating him. maybe it was the first time he smirked at you like he knew something you didn’t.

maybe it was the first time he touched you—really touched you—and you realized how easily he could pull you apart.

or maybe it was right now, with his hands gripping your thighs, his mouth hot and desperate against yours, and all the anger, all the tension that had once been a wall between you had melted into something else entirely.

rafe lays you down like you’re something to be handled, not just taken. like he wants to memorize every second of this, like he knows there’s no going back after this night. he hovers over you, lips trailing from your jaw to your neck, slow and deliberate, his hands tracing over your skin like he’s finally letting himself have what he’s wanted all along.

“still hate me?” he mutters against your throat, his voice rough, teasing, but there’s something behind it—something real.

you should say yes. should push him away. should remind yourself of every fight, every glare, every sharp-edged word.

but all that comes out is a breathless whisper. “no.”

he grins against your skin, like he’s won, but there’s no arrogance in it. just relief. just need. just rafe, unraveling just as fast as you are.

his hands are everywhere—gripping your hips, sliding up your sides, fingers curling around your wrists, pinning them to the mattress just because he can. his touch isn’t just teasing anymore; it’s possessive, like he needs you to know you’re his.

“say it again,” he breathes, lips brushing your collarbone, your pulse hammering beneath his touch.

you shiver, your body arching into him before you can stop yourself. “i don’t hate you,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper, and god, the way he looks at you after that—like you’ve just given him everything—it destroys you.

his grip tightens, his forehead pressing against yours as he exhales sharply. “good,” he mutters. “because i don’t think i can stop.”

there’s no hesitation anymore. no lingering resentment. just heat, just the press of his body against yours, just the way he kisses you like he’s starving for you.

his name leaves your lips in a breathless whisper, and something in him snaps. his hands slide under your thighs, pulling you impossibly closer, his mouth finding yours in a kiss that’s all tongue and teeth and pure, unfiltered desperation.

you don’t know what you expected when you gave in to him, but this? this is something else. he’s everywhere, all of him, overwhelming and intoxicating and exactly what you didn’t realize you needed.

“mine,” he murmurs against your lips, a whisper, a promise, a claim.

and maybe you should fight it. maybe you should remind him you’re your own person, that he doesn’t get to own you.

but you don’t. because the truth is, you’ve been his from the start.

his grip tightens on you, fingers digging into your thighs as he presses you down onto the bed, his body caging yours in. his lips don’t leave yours, moving hungrily, like he’s been waiting for this, like he’s been dying to taste you.

and maybe he has. maybe all those heated arguments, all those sharp words and lingering stares, were just leading to this—to him pinning you against his mattress, to the feeling of his weight pressing you down, to the way your heart pounds like you shouldn’t want this, but you do.

you gasp when his lips break from yours, trailing down your jaw, your neck, his teeth grazing over sensitive skin, his breath hot and uneven. “you gonna stop me?” he murmurs, voice rough, teasing. “or are you finally admitting you want me?”

you should say something smart, something biting, something to keep the game going, but his hands are already sliding under your shirt, pushing it up, his touch burning against your skin. and when he laughs, low and knowing, you realize he already has his answer.

your shirt is gone in an instant, tossed somewhere across the room. his hands trace over your ribs, your stomach, his thumbs brushing higher, teasing, not giving you enough. his lips follow, his tongue flicking against your collarbone before he bites, smirking against your skin when your breath hitches.

“you like that,” he mutters, almost smug, like he’s just figured out a secret you were trying to keep from him. “knew you would.”

you roll your eyes, about to snap back, but then his hands tighten on your waist, flipping you onto your stomach so fast your breath catches.

“rafe—”

“shh.” his lips are at your ear now, his body pressing against yours from behind, one hand slipping beneath you, tilting your hips up just slightly. “you always have so much to say. but i bet if i touched you right now…” he pauses, his other hand trailing lower, skimming over the waistband of your shorts, teasing. “you wouldn’t have a single word left.”

your pulse is pounding, your body already reacting to his words, to his touch. you hate that he’s right, that your breath is coming out shaky, that all the sharp edges of your anger have melted into something hotter, something needy.

“nothing to say?” he murmurs, lips against your shoulder now, moving slow, lazy, like he has all the time in the world to take you apart. “that’s a first.”

you’re burning now, a frustration that has nothing to do with anger, a need that you can’t ignore anymore. so you push back against him, your body arching, your breath coming out in a shudder when he groans, his grip tightening on your waist.

“fuck,” he mutters, his voice rough, strained. “you really are something else.”

you smirk, tilting your head to glance back at him. “so do something about it.”

and he does.

his jaw tics, his grip on your hips tightening like he’s this close to losing control. you watch his eyes darken, flicking between your face and the curve of your ass pressed back against him, your body practically offering itself up.

“you don’t know what you’re asking for,” he mutters, his voice low, wrecked.

you push back again, slower this time, taunting him, your smirk growing when you feel the way his fingers dig into your skin. “then show me.”

his breath hitches. then, before you can blink, you’re flipped again, landing on your back, his body caging yours in, his hands pinning yours above your head.

“so fucking mouthy,” he mutters, shaking his head, his lips hovering just over yours. “always pushing me, always running that smart little mouth.”

his knee slides between your legs, pressing up just enough to make your breath stutter.

“let’s see how much you’ve got to say now.”

his lips crash into yours, rough, claiming, his hands roaming down your body, grabbing, squeezing, owning. it’s not sweet, not soft—this is years of tension, of fighting, of resisting what’s always been there. and now that the dam has broken, there’s no stopping it.

he tugs your shorts down, dragging his fingers along the inside of your thigh, teasing, not giving you enough.

“you’ve been driving me insane for years,” he mutters against your lips, his voice ragged. “all that attitude, all that teasing—had me wondering if you wanted me to snap.”

you smirk, breathless. “maybe i did.”

his eyes flash, and then he’s moving lower, pressing kisses down your stomach, his hands spreading your thighs, holding you there.

“then you’re gonna get what you asked for.”

his mouth is everywhere—kissing, biting, marking—his hands gripping your thighs, keeping you still even as your body trembles.

“so fucking perfect,” he mutters, almost to himself, his voice thick with something you can’t quite place.

you reach for him, threading your fingers through his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan. he glances up at you, his lips pink and smirking, his eyes burning with something dark.

“impatient, aren’t you?”

you huff, glaring down at him. “maybe if you weren’t such an—”

but you don’t get to finish, because then he’s teasing you, dragging his fingers higher, making you gasp.

his smirk widens. “what was that?”

you dig your nails into his shoulder, barely able to breathe. “shut up.”

he grins, dragging his lips up your thigh. “make me.”

you grin. it’s too much, the way he touches you, the way he looks at you—like he’s waited forever for this, like he’s starving for it.

you try to keep your composure, try not to give him the satisfaction of knowing how bad you need him. but he sees it, feels it in the way your body trembles, in the way your fingers clench in his hair.

“you gonna let me take my time?” he murmurs, pressing a slow, torturous kiss against your hip.

you whimper, and he laughs, dark and pleased.

“or are you gonna beg for it?”

his smirk deepens as he watches you struggle, caught between your pride and the overwhelming need pulsing through you. his hands roam—slow, deliberate—fingers skimming over your ribs, your waist, down your thighs, like he has all the time in the world.

“nothing to say now?” he teases, pressing his lips to your inner thigh, dragging his teeth just enough to make you jolt. “that’s a first.”

you glare down at him, breath uneven. “rafe—”

“mm-mm.” he grips your hips, holding you still, eyes gleaming as he presses another slow kiss higher. “try again, sweetheart.”

you grit your teeth, refusing to give him the satisfaction. but then his grip tightens, and he shifts just right, making your breath stutter.

he grins. “go on. tell me what you want.”

your fingers tighten in his hair, a shaky breath leaving your lips. you hate this—hate how good he is at making you desperate, how easily he has you unraveling under his touch.

“you already know what i want,” you bite out, hoping your glare is enough to keep your dignity intact.

but rafe just chuckles, pressing his lips right over where you need him most—just a hint of pressure, not nearly enough.

“oh, i know,” he murmurs, breath hot against your skin. “but i wanna hear you say it.”

his fingers tighten, pinning you against the mattress, his other hand trailing lazily up your stomach, his thumb grazing the underside of your breast.

“be a good girl for once,” he taunts, pressing another teasing kiss just to the side of where you need him. “use your words.”

your body burns, a frustration that has nothing to do with anger anymore. rafe is still looking up at you, waiting, his lips inches from where you ache for him, his smirk growing with every passing second.

you want to fight him on this. you should fight him on this. but he knows you too well—knows exactly how to break you down, how to win.

so you swallow your pride, your voice barely above a whisper.

“please.”

rafe exhales sharply, like that single word just shattered something inside him. his hands grip your thighs, his mouth finally pressing down where you need it, his groan reverberating through you.

“good girl,” he mutters against your skin.

he’s still smirking against your skin, hands gripping your thighs like he owns them, like he owns you. and maybe he does, because the second his mouth finally meets you, your head tilts back, a breathy moan slipping past your lips before you can even think to stop it.

“that’s it,” he mutters against you, voice rough, teasing, laced with satisfaction. “knew you’d sound so fucking sweet for me.”

his tongue moves slow, torturous, dragging over you with just enough pressure to keep you on the edge but not enough to tip you over. you’re already burning, already gripping the sheets so tight your knuckles turn white, your hips shifting, chasing more. but he holds you down, fingers pressing bruises into your skin, keeping you exactly where he wants you.

“stay still, baby,” he murmurs, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your inner thigh, his breath hot against your skin. “you wanted this, didn’t you? so take it.”

you bite your lip, trying to keep quiet, but he hears the way your breath stutters, feels the way your body trembles under his grip.

and he loves it.

“oh, you’re already close, aren’t you?” he grins, dragging his fingers up your thigh, teasing. “so fucking sensitive. you’re soaking for me.”

he doesn’t give you a chance to deny it, doesn’t give you time to even think before he’s back between your legs, mouth working you over like it’s his only purpose. slow drags of his tongue, soft at first, then firmer, circling exactly where you need him most.

he hums when you gasp, sending vibrations through you that make your entire body shudder. and he keeps going, lips wrapping around you, sucking, flicking, his tongue relentless.

your hands fly to his hair, yanking, trying to find something to ground yourself, but it only makes him growl, the sound low and wrecked, like he’s barely holding himself together.

“that’s right,” he murmurs, lips still pressed against you. “use me.”

he slides his hands higher, gripping your waist, shifting you closer, pulling you into his mouth like he can’t get enough. and when you whimper, when your hips jerk up against him, he groans like you are wrecking him.

he flicks his tongue, sucking harder, and your back arches off the bed, a choked moan slipping out before you can stop it.

“fuck, that’s what i wanna hear,” he mutters, voice thick, desperate. “gimme another, baby.”

you do. you can’t help it. because he doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow down—his mouth is all heat and pressure, his grip firm and steady, keeping you exactly where he wants you, keeping you falling apart for him.

and he loves it. loves how easy it is to ruin you, how fast he can break you down, make you lose yourself under his tongue.

“you taste so fucking good,” he groans, his voice raw, like he’s just as wrecked as you. “bet you’re even sweeter when you fall apart for me.”

then he sucks harder, his fingers digging into your thighs, keeping you open, keeping you his, and you’re gone, crashing under his mouth, his name slipping past your lips in a moan that makes him groan against you, swallowing down every sound like it belongs to him.

and when you finally come back down, when your body is still trembling, still twitching from the aftershocks, he presses one last slow, filthy kiss against you before pulling back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes wild as he looks at you.

“we’re not done,” he murmurs, climbing back over you, his lips brushing yours.

“not even close.”

rafe runs his hands over your thighs, pressing a kiss to both inner parts before coming up to kiss you. “knew you couldn’t stay away from me…”

his words make your back arch, already on the aftermath of your climax and his touch and words are almost too much.

got it. i’ll make it as intense as possible, keep the heat suffocating, take it right to the very edge. let’s go.

he’s barely holding himself together. you can feel it in the way his fingers dig into your hips, the way his breath stutters against your skin, the way he’s hovering, hesitating—like the last thin thread of his self-control is about to snap.

“rafe,” you murmur, rolling your hips up against him again, smirking when you feel how hard he is, how he shudders at the friction. “you gonna make me wait all night?”

his jaw tightens. “careful, baby.”

you scrape your nails down his back, taunting, dragging him closer. “or what?”

his grip snaps.

his hands move so fast it makes your head spin, flipping you, pressing you into the mattress, pinning you under him. his voice is low, rough, almost a growl against your ear.

“or i won’t be gentle.”

your breath catches.

“who said i wanted you to be?”

that’s all it takes. his control shatters.

he pushes forward, sinking into you, and the sound he makes is wrecked, a broken, strangled groan against your throat. your nails dig into his back, a sharp gasp slipping past your lips, your body already burning from the stretch, the overwhelming fullness of him.

“fuck,” he mutters, his head dropping to your shoulder, his voice tight, strained. “you feel so fucking good—”

you clench around him, watching his jaw go slack, watching his fingers tremble where they grip your thighs.

“jesus christ—baby—” he shudders, his breath ragged. “you’re so tight—”

he drags his lips up your throat, nipping, claiming, before pulling back, watching your expression, your wrecked, needy little moans, your nails scratching down his back.

then he moves.

his pace is slow at first, teasing, deep, making you feel every inch of him, making you beg for more.

“so fucking perfect,” he mutters, groaning when your hips meet his, when you start chasing it, needing more.

then he picks up the pace, gripping your hips, pushing deeper, his movements getting harder, rougher, until the only sounds in the room are the sharp slap of skin, the filthy, wrecked moans slipping from both of you.

“you like that?” he pants, smirking when you whimper, when your nails dig even deeper into his back. “you like when i fuck you like this?”

you can’t even breathe, can’t even think—your body is on fire, your mind spinning, your pleasure already building, climbing higher, tighter, making your thighs shake where they cling to his sides.

he feels it.

“you close, baby?” he murmurs, dragging his lips over yours, swallowing your gasps. “gonna come for me?”

you whimper, nodding, gripping his hair, pulling him deeper.

his hand snakes down between you, fingers teasing, rubbing exactly where you need him, his hips rolling harder, deeper, the pleasure so overwhelming it’s almost too much.

then his mouth is at your ear, voice wrecked, ragged, desperate.

“come for me, baby.”

and you do.

it hits you, hard and fast, your body clenching around him, your back arching, your moan breaking into a choked sob of pleasure as he groans against your throat, his movements getting sloppier, his rhythm faltering—

then he snaps, burying himself deep, his breath catching, his body shuddering as he loses it, groaning your name like it’s the only thing keeping him tethered to reality.

his arms shake as he holds himself over you, his forehead dropping to your shoulder, his breath ragged against your skin.

the room is spinning. your body still trembles from the aftershocks, your limbs heavy, your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

then rafe chuckles, lazy and satisfied, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss to your throat.

“jesus,” he mutters, still trying to catch his breath, fingers tracing soft circles against your skin. “you’re gonna kill me.”

you grin, threading your fingers through his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan.

“then what a way to go.”

rafe still hasn’t caught his breath, his body pressing you deep into the mattress, his lips dragging lazy, open-mouthed kisses over your throat. his hands are everywhere—roaming up your sides, gripping your thighs, sliding over your hips like he owns them.

because he does.

“you’re not done, are you?” you murmur, tilting your head to give him more access, smirking when you feel the way he tenses against you.

he groans, low and wrecked, his fingers digging into your skin. “baby.”

you roll your hips, teasing, watching his jaw clench, watching the last bit of restraint in his expression crumble.

then he flips you onto your stomach.

your breath catches, your body burning with anticipation as he drags his hands down your spine, slow, teasing.

“gonna take you how i want now,” he murmurs, voice low, rough, sending a shiver straight through you. “gonna make you feel everything.”

his hands slip lower, gripping your waist, pulling you back against him, making you arch for him. his breath is hot against your ear, his touch firm, controlling, keeping you exactly where he wants you.

“you ready for me?” he mutters, dragging his lips down your shoulder, his grip tightening.

you press back against him, rolling your hips, teasing him now. “always.”

his groan is filthy.

then he moves, pressing you deeper into the mattress, pushing forward, filling you slowly, making you feel every inch of him.

your breath stutters, your fingers gripping the sheets, your body burning from the stretch, the fullness, the overwhelming sensation of him.

he groans against your skin, his voice strained, wrecked. “fuck, you feel so good—”

his hands tighten on your hips as he starts to move, slow and deep at first, dragging it out, letting you feel every motion, every inch of him sinking into you.

then he picks up the pace.

his grip tightens, his movements getting rougher, harder, pushing you forward with every thrust, every snap of his hips making your breath catch, your body trembling under him.

his fingers slide up your spine, wrapping around the back of your neck, tilting your head just right, forcing you to hear every desperate, wrecked sound slipping past his lips.

“you love this, don’t you?” he pants, voice breathless, teasing. “love when i take you like this, love when i make you mine.”

you whimper, nodding, your fingers clawing at the sheets.

his hand slips lower, teasing, pressing exactly where you need him, making your whole body shake.

“rafe—”

“i know, baby,” he groans, his hips slamming harder, deeper, his grip unrelenting. “fuck, i know—”

the pleasure builds, tightens, coils in your stomach, pulling you closer, closer, your whole body shuddering under him, your breath coming in broken, desperate gasps.

he feels it.

“come for me,” he mutters against your skin, voice rough, desperate, his fingers pressing harder, his pace turning frantic, wild. “come with me, baby—”

then you snap, pleasure slamming into you so hard it rips the air from your lungs, your whole body tightening around him, pulling him under with you.

he groans, wrecked, his rhythm faltering as he follows, his grip on you turning bruising, his body shaking as he buries himself deep, his breath catching on a strangled, desperate moan against your shoulder.

you both collapse, bodies tangled, skin slick, breaths uneven. his lips brush your shoulder, soft, lingering, his hands still gripping your hips like he never wants to let go.

then he chuckles, pressing a slow, lazy kiss against your spine.

“yeah,” he murmurs, voice still breathless, teasing. “definitely not done with you yet.”

…

the next morning, you wake up sore, warm, and tangled in rafe. his arm is heavy over your waist, his face buried in the crook of your neck, breath slow, steady, completely at ease. the ‘not done with you yet’ promise had been real—he’d made good on it twice more before either of you had finally passed out.

now, the morning light filters through the curtains, painting soft gold lines across his bare shoulders, his hair still a mess from where you’d had your fingers buried in it for hours.

he stirs when you try to move, tightening his grip, dragging you back against him, pressing a lazy, open-mouthed kiss to the side of your throat.

“where you goin’?” his voice is rough with sleep, low and lazy, still half-dreaming.

“rafe,” you whisper, laughing softly, running your fingers through his hair. “i have to shower.”

he groans, burying his face against your neck, mumbling something about five more minutes, but then there’s a loud bang on the bedroom door.

“wake up, lovebirds!” your stomach drops. rafe freezes.

“we made breakfast!” another voice calls out, muffled through the wood, way too cheerful.

then, just to make it worse—

“hope rafe didn’t keep you up all night, finally blowing your back out!”

your face goes hot.

rafe groans, dropping his head onto your pillow, muttering a long string of fuck my life under his breath.

“they know?” you whisper, wide-eyed.

he sighs, rolling onto his back, running a hand down his face. “we weren’t exactly quiet.”

you grab the pillow and hit him with it. he just laughs, catching your wrist, pulling you on top of him.

“oh, now you wanna be shy?” he smirks, brushing his lips over yours, teasing, smug. “last night you were—”

you slap a hand over his mouth.

the knocking continues.

“guys, come on! you’re literally the last ones up!”

rafe sighs dramatically, pressing one last kiss to your palm before peeling himself out of bed, throwing on some sweatpants, looking so unbothered while you’re still sitting there, dying of embarrassment.

“relax, baby,” he grins, winking as he heads for the door. “if they wanna talk about it, i’ll give ‘em something to talk about.”

“rafe no—”

but it’s too late.

he swings the door open, standing there all shirtless and cocky, hair a mess, scratches still fresh down his back, looking exactly like someone who just spent the whole night wrecking you.

“morning,” he smirks.

the guys lose it.

you grab the pillow, throw it directly at his head, and groan as you collapse back onto the bed, already dreading the rest of the day.

…

this is one of my longest fics ever, i worked very hard on his and have been working on this for a long time! i hope you guys enjoyed!! <3

rafe cameron masterlist: @rafestoothbrush @xavierslvrr

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