Fun with Rafael

Rafael looks up at the door of the smithy when it jangles open and can’t help breaking out into a small smile when he sees her step inside. “Hey, didn’t think I’d see you today,” he says, trying to temper the swirl of emotions that threatens to spill over whenever she's near.

Rafel groans deep in his throat, hands instinctively sliding to her hips as he presses himself to her, lips meeting her in a flurry of heat and need. But before they can get too lost in the moment, a part of him - that observant, caring part he's always kept hidden - holds back. He gentles the kiss, pulls away slightly to meet her gaze. "What brings you here, really?" he asks, voice low but laced with genuine concern. "You didn't have to be in the area for this. Is everything alright?"

A soft smirk plays on Rafael’s lips as he reaches up, gently tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. It's a simple gesture, one he's done countless times, but somehow it always feels significant, like the entire world has narrowed to just the two of them in this moment. "Practice," he teases lightly. "Also, because I pay attention." His hand lingers at the nape of her neck, thumb gently stroking her skin there. "Now, are you gonna tell me what brought you here, or are we just gonna..." he trails off, his voice dropping to a low, suggestive rumble as he slowly presses her backwards, step by subtle step.

The challenge is unmistakable in her voice, in the arch of her brow, in the slight hitch of her breath against his neck. And for a moment, Rafael lets his baser instincts sway him - the desire to push her back, to lay her across his workbench, to lose himself in her body until all her secrets and worries are chased away... But he hesitates. Not because he doesn't want that - God, he does want it. It's just...Morgan only gets this way when something's really eating at her. Something she doesn't know how to handle on her own. So he takes a deep, shuddering breath and leans back slightly, eyes searching hers.

"Okay," he says, voice soft with understanding. "We talk. What's bothering you?"

Rafael listens intently as she mentions her mom calling. His expression remains soft and supportive as he nods. "C'mere," he murmurs, and then his arms envelop her, drawing her close as he wraps himself around her. He presses a kiss to her hair, fingers gently stroking her back in a soothing pattern. "I'm sorry, baby," he says quietly, the endearment slipping out without thought. "You know you can tell me anything, right?" He guides her to a nearby stool, coaxing her to sit before standing in front of her, his large frame a comforting shield.

"Want to talk more about it?"

"Why did you answer her call?" he asks, genuine curiosity threading through his voice as he reaches for her hand. "You don't have to take her calls if you don't want to." His large, calloused hand envelops hers, providing a grounding warmth as he waits for her response.

Rafael nods slowly, his expression understanding. "I know that," he says quietly, his thumb absently stroking the back of her hand. "But blood doesn't automatically deserve a free pass. You deserve respect and kindness, period. From everyone, including your mom." He leans down slightly, his voice taking on a gentle, persuasive tone. "And if she can't give you those things, then maybe it's time to re-evaluate how much you let her into your life."

"Okay," Rafael nods slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. "So what is it about your mom that gets to you?" he asks softly, curiosity evident in his voice. "You've never really told me about your relationship with her. What's her problem, anyway? What does she want from you?"

At her explanation, Rafael's expression remains steady, unfazed despite her revelation about her family's wealth. He's quiet for a moment, absorbing what she's shared. Then, his hand tightens reassuringly around hers. "Okay," he says slowly, his voice soft and level. "So they're...rich. And you ruined their reputation.

How, exactly?"

Rafael listens intently, his eyes never leaving Morgan's face. As she explains more about the arrangement between her and her ex-husband and its fallout, he remains silent, taking in every detail. His hand is still clasped around hers, a steady anchor. Once she finishes, he takes a deep breath. "So what I'm getting here is that they want you to hand over your money, essentially." There's a faint growl to his words, a hint of possessiveness - of anger on her behalf. "Fuck that.

You made a choice to leave the marriage, to start fresh. They can't hold that against you."

"I don't think it's crazy, and it's not 'just' Rich People Problems," Rafael says solemnly. "It affects you, and that makes it real and important." He pauses, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "But, I mean...come on. A secret clause that ties money up until you have a kid? That is some straight out of a melodrama shit right there." His tone shifts to concern. "Seriously though, what was so bad about this phone call that you showed up here?

You’re telling me about all of this like it’s second nature and I imagine this ain’t your first rodeo.”

"Wait, so they not only want you to go back to your ex," Rafael clarifies, his voice measured but with a rising incredulity, "they're straight up trying to force you into having a kid with him? Just to appease their goddamn reputation?" He pauses, choosing his next words carefully.

"That's insane," Rafael says bluntly. "And cruel. They're essentially trying to buy you - to sell you off to a man you clearly don't want to be with anymore." His eyes search hers, a fierce protectiveness burning within them. "Tell me you told them no. Tell me you didn't agree to that."

Rafael lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding as relief washes over him. "Good," he says, his voice softer now. "You know I'd support you no matter what you chose, right? But..." he trails off, choosing his words with care. "I'm glad you said no to that. You don't deserve to go through that - to be treated that way."

"Yeah," Rafael says softly, squeezing her hand reassuringly. "That is kinda messed up." He takes a step closer to her, using his free hand to guide her back to her feet. As soon as she's standing, he wraps his arms around her, pulling her against him in a tight hug.

"Always," Rafael murmurs against the top of her head. "Whatever you need, whenever you need it. You know that, right?" He continues to hold her close, simply existing in the moment with her - a steady, comforting presence that wraps around her like a warm shroud. After a few moments pass, he starts to speak again. "Hey, why don't I make you some dinner? You can tell me more, or we can just...be.

Whatever you want."

A warmth creeps up his neck at the mention of his cooking, Rafael's lips quirking slightly in an attempt to hold back a smile. He can always count on Morgan to appreciate the little things. Clearing his throat, he steps back to survey his work. "Yeah, I'm mostly done for today."

With a nod, Rafael starts to efficiently clean up his tools and tidy the space, his movements practiced and economical. It doesn't take long before the forge is spotless and ready for the next day. Once finished, he walks over to Morgan, holding out a hand to help her up. "Alright," he says, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he offers a small smile. "Let's head back to my place. I'll whip up something that'll hopefully take your mind off things."

Rafael's apartment is cozy, with rich wooden accents and colorful textiles adding warmth to the space. As soon as they're inside, he gestures for her to make herself at home. "You want a drink while I start cooking?" he asks, already moving towards the kitchen. "I've got water, wine, beer...Pablo's famous homemade ginger ale," he trails off, winking at her. "Though fair warning, that one'll blow your head off."

"Of course," Rafael replies with a smile, pulling out a cold glass bottle of the spicy ale from the fridge. He pours some into a tall glass filled with ice and hands it over to Morgan before focusing on the task at hand. "Here, you can help me prep the veggies." He walks over to the large window that lets in a stunning view of the ocean and pushes it open, letting the fresh sea breeze in. The sound of waves gently lapping against the shore fills the room, mingling with sizzling onions as Rafael starts chopping them for the meal. "Now, what was that you said earlier about being the first person in both your families to get a divorce?" he asks, his tone neutral but interested.

"I can imagine," Rafael murmurs as he watches her work, his hands moving in tandem with hers. "Sounded like a pretty suffocating setup." He's silent for a moment as he considers his next words carefully. "I can see why you wanted out," he says softly, turning to meet her gaze directly. "You deserve so much better than to be held back or trapped by people's expectations."

Rafael's eyes darken ever so slightly, but his voice stays level. "You don't have to give me the details if you don't want to, but...he didn't hurt you, did he?" The protective edge in his tone is unmistakable. "I mean, physically."

"You know you're more than enough, right?" Rafael says softly, his voice low and intense. He sets down the knife in his hand and steps closer to her, reaching out to gently grasp her shoulder. "Whatever he said to you, whatever your family or his family expected from you...none of that matters. You're more than good enough, just the way you are."

"Twenty-one is young ," Rafael agrees, his expression understanding. "That's...a lot of pressure for anyone to handle." He pauses, mulling over his next words. "I'm not saying this to blame you," he says carefully, "but...can I ask why you didn't leave sooner?" He's acutely aware of how delicate a subject this is, and he only asks because he wants to understand. Wants to help if he can.

Rafael's grip on her shoulder tightens imperceptibly as she describes the six long years it took her to fight for her freedom. He can't begin to imagine that kind of struggle - the weight of expectation, the stifling pressures of her family and his. "Six years," he repeats, his voice barely above a whisper. "God, Morgan. I had no idea." He takes a deep breath and moves his hand from her shoulder to cup her face gently, forcing her to meet his gaze. "But you did it," he says softly.

"You fought, and you got out. That takes a hell of a lot of strength."