dreaming of . . . fwb!rafe cameron who’s going bonkers because he dick isn’t satisfied anymore. you’re away on vacation, and it’s not like he can just reach out his length through the screen and fuck you, but he’s a man of his words. Most times.
“rafe? you there?” your worried voice asks on the other side of the line, as you’re talking to him about your trip. you can hear him breathing—quite heavily albeit—and muffled sounds from his side.
“Uh huh— fuck,” he curses, his hand moving up and down his dick, jerking off to you. “Keep… keep going, baby,” you can’t really tell what’s happening on the other side, neither do you really mind.
his veins are pulsing, both on his left hand and his cock, moving his hand up and down, precum smothered on his red tip. he lets out a groan, his mind imagining your hands and mouth on him— a thought he wants to relish even in his grave.
“rafe, are you sure you’re—”
“shit— yeah, all… g-good here, doll.”
you continue talking, rambling on and on about your trip— something about picking strawberries and riding horses; something sweet like you. he’s not really listening though.
eventually, he reaches his high, sucking in a sharp breath as his cum shoots out, his hand still working up and down his girthy cock, and that’s when it clicks you. good god.
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