sweet treat 3
construction worker!rafe is very grateful when shy!reader offers to help with his tense shoulders...
c/w: rafe in a desperate need of a massage, fluff, some heavy making out, slight dry humping, suggestive, 18+ mdni!
wc: 1.4k
series masterlist
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Rafe has had a tedious workday on the construction site; the ardent sun made him melt like ice under the searing yellow rays and the clock ticked away as if it was an ancient turtle, not helping one bit.
Even after he’s washed away the sweat and dirt and changed into a clean pair of clothes, his shoulders continue to feel strained; muscles aching and legs hurting.
Every time he tries to move his limbs into a more comfortable position on his couch, his face scrunches up into a pained expression, making her furrow her brows and ask ‘what’s wrong’ with worry painting over her features.
“Uh, nothin’ just a bit tense,” he dismisses her, rolling his shoulders back in an attempt to alleviate the soreness tormenting him, disturbing him from the movie that’s playing while they wait for the casserole he’s made to bake in the oven.
“Oh, m’sorry. Do you— do you want me to give you a massage or something?” she suggests, wanting to make him feel better.
“S’fine, don’t worry about it, sweetheart,” he murmurs, turning his attention back to the TV.
“But Rafe you’re hurting…wanna help,” a slight pout is already forming on her mouth as she takes the remote, pausing the film.
The sapphires of his eyes flicker over to her— the look she’s giving him tugging at his heartstrings and for a moment, he wonders what he did to deserve such an angel wanting to take care of him.
“Yeah? Wanna help me?”
She nods.
Then, he’s turning around and bending his legs to sit cross-legged on the sofa, presenting his solid back and broad shoulders to her.
“Also I’ve had some practice but I’m no masseuse, so don’t get your hopes up too much,” she says while scooting closer, raising to her knees behind him in order to reach his tall frame.
“You give massages to a lot of people?” he asks, teasing, seemingly nonchalant but there’s a part of him that’s eager to find out whether he’s getting special treatment from her or not.
“No, I jus’ meant when I was little, me and my friends used to do these massage therapy circles and we’d take turns, but now I’m a little rusty since it’s obviously been a while,” she explains.
‘Good’ is all he offers in response, making something abstruse in her tummy flutter.
Then, she settles her hands on his wide shoulder blades that lie underneath the white fabric of his t-shirt before digging into his skin, feeling the sturdy muscles under her fingertips.
“You want me to take m’shirt off? So it’s easier?” he casually suggests and her cheeks heat up.
“Oh— um…yeah, if you want,” her voice does not sound as indifferent as his, which makes the corners of his strawberry mouth curl as he plucks at the collar of his shirt; exposing solid back muscles and soft skin.
She blinks, hesitantly resting her hands on top of his shoulders once again before kneading her fingers into his brawny structure. When a heartfelt groan rumbles from his chest, she swallows before continuing to press into the parts that feel the most strained— trying to not pay too much attention to the lewd sounds he’s making.
“Jus’ tell me if something feels bad or if you want me to focus on a specific spot and stuff,” she murmurs as her thumbs sink into his tense flesh, feeling him begin to unspool under her ministrations.
He hums out a soft agreement, contentment coating his tone.
However, when she presses into a particularly taut part of muscle tissue, he suddenly lets out a noise from the back of his throat that sounds almost obscene to her ears— reminding her of the night they shared a few days ago.
It makes her squeeze her thighs together, trying to drag her head out of the gutter.
“Fuck, that feels nice,” he grunts, closing his eyes in ecstasy.
He thinks she lied when she said that she wasn’t too good because he’s not sure if his shoulders have ever felt this mellow— he’s practically muddy clay under her tender fingertips and he feels so relaxed he could fall asleep.
She continues digging her thumbs into his achy flesh until her fingers feels so sore she thinks they’ll fall off if she doesn’t stop.
“Sorry, my fingers hurt, can’t anymore,” she softly apologizes before he turns around to face her again; a lazy grin coating his countenance.
“S’all good, thanks, sweetheart,” his words are grateful while he rolls his shoulders back for emphasis, no hint of any sort of agony in sight.
“Of course, if um— if you need me to do that again, just ask, okay?”
“You’re so good to me, you know that?” Carolina blue peers down at her with a certain tenderness that makes her feel all fuzzy and tingly inside.
“That was nothing. It was the least I could do after all the times you’ve driven me home and stuff.”
“Nah, m’serious, you jus’ spent almost an hour turnin’ my muscles into jelly. Let me thank you properly,” he murmurs.
“What— what do you mean?” her breath hitches.
“Haven’t been able to stop thinkin’ about you grindin’ yourself on top of me, you know?” he says while lifting his left hand to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, fingers lingering on her jawline.
She freezes, not sure how to respond when his thumb strokes along her cheekbone before he tips her face up.
“Was so caught up forgot to kiss you…” he drifts off, clouded gaze flitting over her features. “You want me to?”
“You mean…right now?” her eyes round out.
“Unless you have somewhere else to be?” the edges of his mouth tilt up and when she shakes her head, he leans closer; pressing his lips on hers.
However, when a surprised sound escapes her, he deepens the kiss— warm tongue prodding at the seam of her mouth, coaxing her to open up for him. And when she eventually does, he slips his tongue inside, groaning when he can taste the muted sweetness of the vanilla chapstick she’s wearing.
Something that was meant to be soft and sweet turns into something heated and primal as he cradles her face in his palms before pawing at her waist— bringing her closer and lifting her to sit on his lap while his hands travel down to squeeze at the flesh of her ass, forcing her to let out fragile whimpers into his mouth.
“There we go, sweetheart. Tha’s a lot better, yeah?” he murmurs between soft pecks and sloppy kisses.
Their spit-slick lips lock together again and again; her inner thighs turning sticky and mind wandering in hazy vapor.
“Rafe…” she nearly whispers and she doesn’t even realize she’s rutting against the bulge in his pants until he’s grunting, blunt nails denting her skin— the slight pain making her whine before he’s pushing her against his hardening cock firmer. His pillowy lips smear on hers all wet and messy, turning her into a moaning jumble that’s trying her best to keep up with his hungry mouth.
Then, completely out of the blue, the timer of the oven begins to ring, making her jump in surprise and nearly fall off his lap, if not for his beefy arms holding her upright.
He merely lets out an airy chuckle against her swollen lips, pressing a few sweetened pecks on them before reluctantly pulling away— his heavy panting filling her ears while she tries to even out her own rickety respiration.
Then, he’s gently setting her on top of the couch cushions and standing on his feet. Her disconcerted pout follows his movements.
“Shit, better go check on the food so it doesn’t burn, yeah?” he’s sporting a lazy, taunting smile when he offers his palm to her— lifting her up on unsteady legs that try their best to follow him as he disappears into the kitchen that bathes under the burnt orange of the setting sun.