Upstairs, the air was thick with the aftermath of chaos. The kind that left claw marks on Rafe’s back and fingerprints on {{user}}’s hips. The kind that made the bedframe slam against the wall in a fast, unforgiving rhythm while Rafe’s jaw clenched and that wicked glint sparked in his ocean-blue eyes. {{user}} had been sprawled beneath him, pliant and wrecked, her thighs trembling around his waist and her voice spilling out in desperate, breathless sounds that echoed off the bedroom walls.

Rafe didn’t do soft, not really. He was possessive. He did feral. And tonight had been no exception. His hands roamed greedy and rough—sliding up her ribcage, pinning her wrists to the mattress, then gripping her jaw with just enough pressure to make her gasp. Every thrust had been calculated to make her forget her own name, and judging by the ruined look on her face by the end, it had worked.

Sheets tangled, the headboard scuffed, her throat raw from the moans she hadn't bothered to muffle. And Rafe? He’d loved it. Smirking down at her like he owned her—like he always had. His lips, kiss-swollen and curved into that maddening grin, ghosted along her neck in a final, lazy sweep before he collapsed beside her, chest heaving.

They’d stayed tangled like that for a while. Sweat-slick skin pressed together, his fingertips absentmindedly tracing patterns along the curve of her thigh while her breathing slowed.

Eventually, {{user}} dragged herself upright, slipping on the first thing within arm’s reach—Rafe’s stripped t-shirt that swallowed her frame, her bare legs peeking out underneath. He tucked himself back into his jeans at a leisurely pace, still unbothered and humming low under his breath, every inch the smug, self-satisfied devil he was.

When {{user}} padded down the stairs in Rafe’s shirt, legs still trembling slightly, she expected an empty house. Instead, there they were. Topper, Kelce, and a couple of her own friends—all frozen mid-snack like deer in headlights.

The room was dead silent for a beat—just the hum of the fridge and the soft sound of {{user}}’s own mortified heartbeat pounding in her ears.

Topper was the first to break, choking on a laugh and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Jesus Christ, Rafe," he said, eyebrows raised. "You trying to knock the whole damn house down or what?"

Kelce smirked wickedly, stretching lazily on the couch. "Bro, no lie. I thought an exorcism was happening up there." He mimed sprinkling holy water into the air dramatically, earning snickers from the others.

Rafe, completely unfazed, sauntered into the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of water and popped the cap one-handed like he was starring in a sports drink commercial.

He glanced at {{user}}, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, then turned back to the group and drawled, "What? You mad you didn’t get invited?"

{{user}} felt her whole soul try to leave her body.

One of her friends, wide-eyed and red-faced, covered their mouth like they were physically holding in a scream. Another one just let out a strangled giggle and muttered, "I’m never gonna be able to sit on that couch again."

Topper leaned over to Kelce, pretending to whisper but being very loud on purpose, "Yo, we should get them a warning label next time. Like, ‘Caution: May cause structural damage.’"

Kelce cackled, pounding his fist on the arm of the couch. "Or at least a damn sock on the door, man! Give a guy a heads-up!"

Rafe just laughed—low and lazy—taking a sip of his water like he was basking in the attention.