Soaked Through (bsf!rafe)
cw: dry humping, mutual masturbation, cum play mdni 18+
It starts as a joke. It always does with you and Rafe.
You’re sprawled on his bed in nothing but a tank top and panties, legs slung over his thighs, your laugh catching in your throat when he grabs your hips and pulls you into his lap. He’s only in boxers, and you’re warm and buzzing from a shared blunt and whatever tension’s been building between you since sunset.
“You’re gonna break my heart one day,” he says, low, like a confession and a challenge, and then you’re grinding down on him before you can even think twice.
There’s no friction at first—just the smooth drag of your soaked panties over the soft cotton of his boxers, the head of his cock already leaking and nudging right where you need him. You tilt your hips, find the spot that makes your toes curl, and ride it. Slow at first. Testing. Teasing. But his hands tighten on your waist, guiding your rhythm like he’s seconds from snapping.
“Jesus, baby,” he grits, breath hot against your collarbone. “You’re fuckin’ soaked.”
And you are. The front of your panties clings to you, sticky and dark, and when you press harder, rocking over the thick ridge of him, you feel how drenched his boxers are too. There’s a wet, obscene squelch every time you roll down, your slick and his precome smearing between the thin layers of fabric like you’re already fucking.
Your thighs start to shake.
“Rafe,” you whimper, forehead pressed to his, breath stuttering. “Gonna—”
“Yeah?” he pants, watching your face like it’s the only thing that matters. “Come just like this? Just from grinding on me, baby?”
You nod, desperate. He lets you, lets you use him like that, hands everywhere—palming your ass, dragging you down harder, flexing under you like he’s holding back from flipping you over and ruining you.
And then you’re there, coming hard with a soft cry, the wet patch on your panties growing as your whole body shudders. Rafe groans—loud and guttural—and jerks beneath you once, twice, and then he’s following, coming in his boxers with a twitch of his hips and a hiss through his teeth.
You both freeze for a second, breathing heavy. The mess between you is hot and sticky, soaked through cotton and pressed against skin.
Your fingers slip under the waistband of his boxers, tugging them down just enough to free his cock, still slick and twitching. He hisses as the cool air hits him, and you hook your fingers into the side of your panties, dragging them aside.
And then you’re back on him, dragging your soaked folds along his length, spreading the mess—his come, your come—everywhere. Over the head of his cock, along the shaft, down to his base and back again. You smear it with your hips, your thighs trembling, both of you moaning like you’re high on it.
“Fuck,” he whispers, watching the way you move on him like he’s hypnotized. “You tryna kill me?”
You just smile, grinding slow and messy, your come mixing with his, smearing against your inner thighs. His hands grip your hips like a prayer and a warning, but he doesn’t stop you. He never would.
Not when you’re like this.
a/n: this may or may not be inspired by a p!link i saw on X (twitter)…. anyways pls let me know if you want more of these types of blurbs?? less formatting more quick whats on my mind type of stuff 🙃
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