It’s well past midnight when your phone lights up beside you.

Rafe: you up?

You smirk to yourself, thumbs already typing.

You: barely. why?

The typing bubble appears immediately.

Rafe: can’t sleep. need you.

You pause, biting your lip. This wasn’t the first time he’s texted like this, and even though you were in your own bed—warm, quiet, lights off—your body already felt like it was pulled in his direction.

You: I was with you five hours ago.

Rafe: that’s five hours too long.

Another text follows.

Rafe: i’m lying here thinking about you. like an idiot. can’t stop.

You roll over, facing the wall, heart pounding.

You: what are you thinking about?

Rafe: you. your voice. your skin. the way you looked today when you smiled at me like you knew i was losing my mind.

You swallow hard, your own body betraying you now, a soft ache building low in your stomach.

Rafe: i just wanna feel you right now. like… your legs tangled with mine. your hands on me. your breath.

There’s a pause, and then:

Rafe: i’m needy as hell. like really fucking. it’s bad.

You don’t reply right away, staring at the screen, pulse racing.

Rafe: you’d come over if i asked?

You hesitate. You’re still in bed, in an oversized t-shirt, hair messy, not even wearing pants. But the thought of being close to him again—his touch, his smell, that low voice in your ear—makes you shift beneath the sheets.

Rafe: please, baby. i’m begging you.