asking rafe “do you like me?” in the middle of him blowing your back out
the bed creaks alongside the rhythm at which the headboard jolts into the wall each time rafe thrusts but you can barely hear it over your own mewls. he’d come close to winning in the motorcycle race, and despite jj maybank impeding his near win— rafe actually seemed pretty ecstatic.
you figured he liked to hear all those people cheering his name, supporting him for once. it made a change from all those times at the country club, or the house parties where his name would only be brought up in a sour whisper, murmuring about some rumour that wasn’t really a rumour— and next thing you know rafe would totally crash out. no, it wasn’t like that this time. people looked… happy to see him.
girls especially. waving their signs and flags and pushing their chest out when he’d come by. “good luck, rafe!” they’d coo and he was so high off the adrenaline he didn’t even do much to ignore them. you let him have his moment, but now he was fucking you into the mattress — it was creeping up on you again.
“mhh—mm—mm” you cry into the pillow, his hips plapping against your ass.
“yeah, tha’s that good shit huh? you like that winners dick?” he all but hollers, out of breath and clammy as he pushes your lower back down some more.
in a daze, you respond — but not to answer to his question, to ask your own.
“huh? gotta speak up, yeah?” he pulls the pillow beneath you that muffles you aside and tosses it away rather quickly as to not impede on his rhythm.
“d’you like me?” you whine louder, as if it were a pain to repeat yourself.
you hear him heave out a breath, winded by the amount of conversation taking place at the speed he was pounding you and he slows, dropping some weight down onto you.
“wh— do i like you? what the hell kinda—”
“forget it.” you sniffle, attempting to push yourself up on your hands so you could quickly depart and wallow in the embarrassment but without thinking he pushes you back down onto the bouncy mattress, still sheathed fully inside.
“quit that. ‘course i like you, alright? why are you asking me that?”
you don’t turn to look at him, the older boy still staring at the back of your head. you shrug your bare shoulders.
rafe licks his lips. he knew what girls could be like — hell, he had two sisters after all. random bouts of sensitivity and insecurity were never more than a short stop away— so he figured you were simply having one of those. he sighs, dropping down lower to bear hug you from the back, wrapping his arms around your torso.
“you think i’d fuck you like this if i didn’t like you?” he rolls his hips again slowly, the stretch maddening and you groan, watery eyes fluttering.
“everything i god damn do is for you alright? of course i like you. now do you want to keep chatting? or do you want me to fuck you. hm?” he teases, starting to up his pace again.
you were a sucker for reassurance, you truly would have loved if he went on — but in that moment, there was only one correct answer, and all you could think was fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.