The night had settled into that perfect, dangerous level of drunkenness—where secrets spilled easier than drinks, and no one could be held accountable for what they said.

{{user}} was curled up against Rafe on the couch, her fingers lazily tracing patterns on his arm. Across from them, Sarah, Kelce, Topper, and Kiara were deep into a game of Truth or Drink.

"Alright, new question!" Kelce announced, barely holding back a grin. "Biggest turn-on. And you have to answer."

Kiara rolled her eyes. "You just wanna be nosy."

"Duh."

Sarah shrugged. "Easy. Hands in my hair. Like, when they tug just right—"

Topper choked on his drink. "Jesus, Sarah."

{{user}} smirked. "Oh, this is getting good."

Kelce turned to her. "Alright, Miss Instigator, your turn."

She thought for a second, then grinned. "Easy. When Rafe is mad."

Rafe’s head snapped to her. "What?"

She laughed, sipping her drink. "Not like real mad. But when you’re all worked up, jaw clenched, voice low—ugh."

Rafe stared at her, half in shock, half in satisfaction. "So… you like when I’m pissed?"

{{user}} bit her lip. "Kinda. Yeah."

Kelce whooped. "Bro, you’re literally her walking turn-on."

Sarah giggled. "Okay, Rafe, your turn."

Rafe smirked, eyes locked on {{user}}. "When she tells me what to do."

{{user}} blinked. "Excuse me?"

He leaned in, voice dropping. "You bossing me around? Giving orders? Yeah. That does it for me."

{{user}}’s face burned, but she couldn’t help but smirk. "Damn. Guess I’ll have to use that to my advantage."

Topper groaned. "Can y’all not do this right now?"

Kelce threw back his drink. "Nah, let them cook."