ex!husband!rafe when he finds out you had another guy over while your son was there
divider is from @princessbrunette
wc: 947 — a/n: sorta a new layout
you hear the knock at your door late at night, sharp and deliberate. you already know who it is before you open it.
rafe stands in the doorway, jaw clenched, eyes dark with something between anger and possession. he’s still dressed from work—white button-down undone at the collar, sleeves rolled up, rolex catching in the dim porch light. he looks every bit the man you once loved, the man you once shared a life with. the man you thought you had finally left behind.
but you didn’t. not really.
“you wanna tell me why my son is talking about some man in my house?” his voice is low, biting, laced with an authority he has no right to wield over you anymore.
your stomach knots. “rafe—”
“don’t,” he cuts you off, stepping inside, closing the door behind him like he still owns the place. like he still owns you. “who the fuck was he?”
you exhale sharply. “it’s none of your business.”
“the fuck it isn’t,” rafe scoffs. “some guy plays house around my kid, and i’m just supposed to sit back and take it?” he steps closer, eyes locking onto yours. “you still belong to me.”
you shake your head, voice firm. “no, rafe. that’s not how this works anymore.”
his hand grips your chin, tilting your face up to meet his, forcing you to hold his gaze. his touch isn’t rough, but it isn’t gentle either. “does he take care of you? huh? what does he make? forty, fifty grand a year?” he laughs, shaking his head. “you slumming it now? is that what you want our son to see?”
your jaw tightens. “i don’t want our son to be like you.”
that makes him pause. his grip tightens just slightly, enough to make your breath hitch.
“like me?” he murmurs, tilting his head. “entitled? condescending?” his lips curl into something dark, something cruel. “or just a man who gets what he wants?”
you glare at him, trying to pull back, but he doesn’t let you.
“you forget your place,” rafe murmurs, voice like a promise. he leans in, his breath hot against your skin. “you’re mine, baby. always have been. always will be.”
your body betrays you, shivering at the claim, at the truth laced within it.
his lips brush against your cheek as he whispers, “you can let him pretend all you want. but we both know—no one else will ever be me.”
you press your hands against his chest, pushing him back with more force this time. “stop, rafe.” your voice wavers, not as firm as you want it to be.
he lets you push him—barely—but he doesn’t step back. he lingers, watching you with something knowing in his eyes, something that says he sees right through you.
“you don’t get to do this,” you say, voice quieter now. “we’re done.”
he hums, like he’s considering your words. then he smirks, that same infuriating, arrogant smirk that used to drive you crazy. “and yet… i’m still here. in your house. late at night.” his voice dips, low and dangerous. “like always.”
you swallow hard, refusing to let him pull you back in. “because you forced your way in.”
his fingers trail up your arm, slow and deliberate. “and you haven’t made me leave.”
you jerk away from his touch, breath unsteady. “i don’t want you here, rafe.”
he lets out a sharp laugh, shaking his head. “that’s cute, baby. real fucking cute.” his expression darkens. “you think i’m gonna just sit back while you play house with some nobody? while my son—my fucking son—is around some piece of shit you brought home?”
your jaw tightens. “he’s a good man.”
rafe’s hand snaps out, gripping your chin again, firmer this time. “he’s not me.”
you glare at him, but the intensity in his gaze makes your stomach twist.
his thumb drags across your lower lip, slow and possessive. “tell me something, sweetheart.” he leans in, his voice barely above a whisper. “does he even know what to do with you?”
your breath catches. “rafe—”
his lips brush against your ear. “does he know how to handle you? how to make you beg?”
you push against his chest again, but this time he doesn’t move.
he chuckles, dark and satisfied. “yeah. that’s what i thought.”
your hands tremble as you shove harder. “i don’t want this! i don’t want you!”
he catches your wrist, holding it against his chest. “liar.”
you shake your head, tears burning your eyes. “you don’t own me.”
rafe exhales, shaking his head like you’re saying something ridiculous. then his hand moves to your jaw, tilting your head up until you have no choice but to look at him.
“you really think you can change what you are?” his voice is softer now, but no less dangerous. “what we are?”
your breath is shallow, and your pulse is erratic.
his thumb strokes your cheek, almost gentle. “you’re mine. you always will be. no one else will ever touch you the way i do.”
you hate the way your body reacts to him. hate the way his words sink into your skin like they belong there.
he watches you, eyes flickering with something dark and triumphant. “so go ahead, baby. let him pretend he has a chance.” his lips hover over yours, teasing. “we both know where you’ll end up.”
your voice is barely a whisper. “rafe…”
he smiles, pressing one last lingering kiss to your jaw before finally—finally—pulling away.
“for now,” he murmurs. then he turns, walking to the door like he owns the place.
and maybe, just maybe… he does.
