ʀᴀғᴇ ᴀúʟʟᴀ ᴀ ʟᴀ sᴏᴍʙʀᴀ ᴅᴇ (maginus) wrote in repose,
The keys he had used to unlock the door had been dropped somewhere close to where he normally kept them, the sound of them missing the mark and ending up clattering to the floor registering somewhere in the back of his mind. It wasn’t important enough for him to stop and scoop them up though, and so they remained there. He was too busy kissing Oona’s back, letting his hands roam as they had wanted to for more than half the night, the skirt of her dress shirt enough that he could hike it up easily, his fingers against her upper thighs firm and wanting but still steady enough to be respectful.
Because Rafe was always respectful, especially with women. That mattered to him. Always had, always would. As attractive as he found Oona, as mutual as those feelings were between them, and as much as he wanted her in return that respect would always come first.
He didn’t even realise they had ended up anywhere near the kitchen, the thump of the cookbook registering in that same dull background way that the keys had. It wasn’t until the drawers opened and the rattle, scrape, and ring of plastic, wood, and metal that he noticed, and even then it wasn’t until those knives had hit the ceiling and stuck that it really clicked. Rafe had already tensed without being consciously aware of it but the wolf was in high alert, standing tall with ears pricked and eyes bright.
Something had happened. Something strange.
And that was when the faucet went. That tension spiked and he finally took his hands from Oona in order to turn his head, automatically scanning the room for anything that could have caused it. There was something in the air but he couldn’t pin it down and the gushing water made it more of a challenge. Thankfully Rafe knew how to turn off the water, which he moved away from Oona to do even with his pants undone, unconsciously grateful for the fact that they didn’t try to fall down as he opened the cabinet under the sink and crouched down long enough to reach inside and find the valve, shutting it off without having to head Into the garage to find any tools. The water sputtered and then dropped off and he stood from the simple job with his hair a little damp, evidence of spray on his face, shoulders, and chest as well, but he ignored it. Instead he turned his head to Oona, before looking up at he knives sticking point-first in the ceiling.
“Well,” he said, a little breathlessly, “that’s new.” He moved back over to her, one hand reaching for first her shoulder, then to brush her neck, and then to duo her face. “Are you okay?”