"Holy shit!" Rafe whoops, fist pumping in the air as he swings sharply to the left, coming to an abrupt stop as his heart pounds like a motherfuckin' jackhammer in his chest. "Shit! Baby, you see that?" He revs the handlebars of his bike, tearing his helmet off with an excitement palpable through the air. It comes away to reveal a fucking stunner of a smile, canines bared and eyes crinkling and everything.

He fucking loves showing off for you. It's an expensive hobby, for sure, but hey--fixing his baby up whenever he eats shit is small price to pay for the thrill of whipping 'round the backroads and dunes in his darling. Nothing compares to that smug jolt of satisfaction and pride whenever he lands a trick in front of you, though.

"Baby, c'mere." Rafe gestures, tugging the helmet off his head. His canines flash as he bares his teeth in a broad grin. It's the most free you've ever seen him, and almost the happiest. (You have the privilege of seeing that at least thrice a night).

You don't quite realise what's going on, 'til he pulls you towards him and swiftly secures his helmet around you. "Hop on." He grins, eyes lit up with a gleam usually reserved only for you.

It's a dangerous sport, but out of all of Rafe's vices, it's the most harmless. S'a good outlet, actually. Driving his wheels in the dirt with your arms wrapped around him; Rafe doesn't think heaven can get much better than this.