Summary: You and Rafe have a casual thing, until one night at a party some other guy talks to you and Rafe gets jealous. Very jealous.
Warnings: mdni – violence, jealousy, possessiveness, aggression, fingering, very rough sex, p in v, ruthless!rafe, dark!rafe, dom!rafe
Word count: 2.9k
It had been going on for a few weeks. Just a casual thing. That was all Rafe wanted, he told you. And you agreed, because being with him was unlike anything ever. Even though you weren't dating, what you and Rafe had was so much more intense than anything you had ever experienced with another guy. And you didn't want any other guy. You wanted Rafe, even if it meant that the only way you could have him was this casual thing, where he would text you or show up at your place and he'd fuck you. So good. So rough. So nasty. He was the only one to ever satisfy all your needs and at the same time, he left you wanting for more. More of him.
Rafe hadn't answered any of your texts in days, but that was how it was with him. You were patient and waited and would not push him, because you knew that he didn't like that, he didn't want you to be clingy. After all, it was just a casual thing.
But one night you got tired of just waiting at home. One of your friends asked you to come to a Kook party with her. You agreed because she practically begged you to as she didn't want to go on her own. When you arrived at the party, your friend soon found other friends and you were the one standing around on your own. It felt a bit awkward, but you didn't really mind. So you stood at the far end of the room when you saw him. Rafe Cameron. Of course, he wasn't alone. He was enjoying himself, sitting on a couch with other people, girls and guys. He just had done a line and was laughing, while talking with Kelce about some shit that happened with the Pogues. You could see him and hear his voice. But you didn't think that he had seen you, and if so, it seemed like he didn't care. So you stayed where you were, sipping your drink and watching people, watching him.
You didn't really realize when a guy came up to you. When he addressed you, you politely said you were not interested and you were here with a friend. But he kept on talking, came closer and you could smell the cheap bear in his breath as he leaned down, which made you move backwards, accidentally bumping into someone else.
And Rafe saw this. The moment you had entered the party, his eyes were on you, even though you didn't notice. And he watched you, though pretending that he didn't care, pretending that he was just having fun with his friends. But inside him, a rage was boiling. Why didn't you come to him? It made him furious when seeing you chatting with another guy, who came so close to you. So fucking close to you!
Rafe jumped to his feet – and the girl who had been sitting on his lap dropped to the floor, mouthing a drunken complaint. He didn't care. He was furious, hot rage pulsing through his veins, as he crossed the room, reached you in no time, grabbed that fucker who dared to be this close to you, yanked him around to land a fist right in his ugly face. The blow was so hard, the guy's head swung backwards, hitting the wall, and Rafe didn't stop. He yelled at the guy, gripping his shirt, he pulled him closer, shook him and again and again hit that guy's face, who had not seen what was coming to him.
And Rafe would have continued, would never have stopped, fuming with rage – if it wasn't for some other guy to get in the fight. The new guy tried to stop Rafe, which was a mistake. Rafe turned to him next. But the this guy was prepared and dodged his blow, and instead attacked him. They fought fiercely with the crowd watching and cheering.
Rafe was so far gone, his anger had taken over completely, coursing through his veins. He didn't perceive anything else, so focused on beating the guy, he didn't care that it was no longer the one who had actually touched you, but just some other boy who tried to help his friend. And he didn't hear those voices shouting, either to cheer or to make him stop. There was nothing left but his fuming rage, his hot aggression, his raw violence. His violent thoughts were in control.
