bsf!rafe cameron x reader
summary: aka yall get freaky in a drive in theatre
content warnings: pwp, unprotected piv, car sex, fingering, semi-public sex, rafe can't ever seem to get his hands off bsf!reader like goddamn, nor can either of them confess their feelings smh 18+ MDNI
Rafe stared at the movie in boredom and disgust as he watched the two main characters fight with each other in the rain, his chin resting on his fist with a drink gripped by the other. You’d insisted that it’d be more fun to watch a movie at the drive-in theatre, except Rafe had lost all interest in the horror movie he’d chosen after rigging the coin toss done to avoid watching the chick flick you usually opted to watch.
“They do the same predictable shit in every movie,” he muttered as he watched the exasperation painted on the male lead’s face. “He’s gonna blurt out that he’s always loved her in a minute, then the motherfucker’s gon’ be slashed in half.” Rafe turned his head to you as he swatted him square in the face, seeing the look of adoration in your face that almost made his torture worth it. Almost.
“Hate to break it to ya, but you chose the movie, dumbass.” You turned to look back at him, your smirk giving away the fake annoyance you’d tried to give him. “If you hadn’t cheated like I know you did-”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever, but I didn’t cheat.” Rafe retorted as he watched you turn your attention back to the screen. A few minutes passed in silence as the movie continued its predictable plot. Rafe shifted in his seat, the leather of the expensive car making an annoying sound against his jeans. He glanced over at you again, noticing how the light from the screen illuminated your features, making your eyes sparkle.
He let the silence stretch for another moment, the flickering blue light of the screen casting shadows across his sharp jawline. He watched you more than the movie, the way you bit your lip during a tense scene, how your eyes widened. He was so bored, he could feel his brain turning to mush, but watching you was truly something else. Something that he knew what it implied, but he wasn’t going to analyze it any more than it should be. Something that teetered a line that he wasn’t sure if either of you was willing to cross yet.
"Alright, that's it," he suddenly declared, tossing his now-empty cup into the backseat. It landed with a soft thud. "This is officially the worst movie I've ever seen. And I've seen some real shit." You laughed, not taking your eyes off the screen. "Serves you right, you rigged that coin toss."
“Nah, Peaches. I'm mad because I'm wasting m’hard money on this garbage," he said, but his tone was playful. He shifted in his seat, turning his body fully towards you; the expensive leather creaked with the movement. “Y’know what would be more entertaining than this?”
“Hmm?” you hummed, still distracted. Rafe glanced down, smirking at the sight of his hand, which had been resting on your thigh. Slowly, he began to move, his fingers tracing a slow, deliberate path upwards, inching under the hem of your shorts. The warmth of his hands on that area was suddenly gone and now cold, while the chilling path his fingertips left against your skin was a stark, thrilling contrast. You shivered, your body already responding to him, a familiar ache beginning to build low in your stomach.
“Rafe,” you softly breathed out, unable to fight the urge. “Quit it.”
Rafe watched your face, his gaze predatory and satisfied as he saw the effect he had on you. His fingers danced along the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, teasingly close to where you wanted him most but never quite touching. It was torture, infuriating, even. You squirmed in your seat, a soft whimper escaping your lips.
"Quit squirmin’," he taunted, his voice a low whisper against your ear. He knew exactly what he was doing; he always did.
"Oh my god, stop teasing," you managed to let out, your voice shaky.
He chuckled, a deep, smug sound. "Where's the fun in that?" But he finally relented, his fingers pressing against the damp fabric of your panties. You gasped, your hips bucking involuntarily at the contact. He rubbed you slowly through the thin cotton, his touch maddeningly light, a perfect, frustrating circle that had you seeing stars. He was toying with you, enjoying every second of your desperation, of the way your breath hitched with every pass of his thumb over your clit.
"You're so fucking wet already," he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. "All this from the movie? Or were you thinking about this the whole time?" He didn't wait for an answer, finally hooking his fingers into the waistband of your panties and pulling them aside. The cool night air hit your heated skin for a second before his fingers were on you, bare and unimpeded.
You cried out, the sound swallowed by his mouth as he kissed you again. This time it was slower, deeper, a filthy exploration as his fingers worked their magic. He slid one inside you, then another, curling them just right. Your head fell back against the seat, your eyes squeezed shut as a wave of pleasure washed over you. All you could feel was him—his fingers pumping into you, his thumb circling your clit, his other hand tangled in your hair, holding you exactly where he wanted you.
"Look at me, Peaches," he commanded, his voice rough. You forced your eyes open, meeting his intense gaze. The raw hunger you saw there sent another jolt of desire straight through you. "That's it. Let me see you."
He could feel you getting closer, your walls clenching around his fingers, your breathing coming in ragged pants. Just as you were teetering on the edge, he pulled his hand away, letting a frustrated groan from your throat.
"Patience," he cut you off, his voice tight with his own need. He was just as affected as you were, his pupils blown, his jaw clenched.
Before you could understand what was happening next, Rafe leaned across the console, the space suddenly feeling charged and electric. His hand cupped your jaw, his thumb stroking your skin as he crashed his lips against yours. It wasn't gentle nor questioning; it was exactly how you’d expected it to be, a hungry, demanding kiss that stole the air from your lungs. One that tasted like the salted richness from the butter in your popcorn, with a hint of tobacco and a desperate need for distraction.
You melted into it instantly, your hands coming up to grip the collar of his polo shirt, pulling him closer. The movie, the other cars, the whole world outside the bubble you two comfortably relished in faded away. All that mattered was the heat building between you, the way his tongue swept against yours, claiming your mouth.
It was moments like these that made you ponder how much everything would change if you’d just told him that you’d want something more. Or if you’d confessed the way you never wanted to feel anyone else’s lips if they weren’t the slightly chapped ones that belonged to him. Or maybe, just maybe, how he’d take in the fact that for you, it was either him or no one, because how could you wake up next to someone whose smile didn’t bring you the same joy his did, or the same comfort that his hands did as he’d lead you through a crowd, or how you didn’t have to worry because you knew Rafe had it handled.
When Rafe finally pulled back, you were both breathing heavily. His eyes, usually a cool, distant blue, were dark and intense, fixed on your swollen lips.
"Rafe," you breathed, your heart hammering against your ribs. "We're in the middle of a lot; there are people everywhere."
A slow, cocky smirk spread across his face. "Yeah, and?" His hand slid from your jaw down your neck, his fingers tracing the collar of your shirt. "Relax, baby. No one can see shit. These windows are tinted." His voice was a low, confident rumble that vibrated through you, ironic considering you should’ve gotten used to it by now. You let out a sigh as Rafe pressed his lips on your neck behind your ear, tracing an agonizingly slow path down, while small splotches of purple hues began to come to light—a subtle sign that Rafe had a chokehold over you, a reminder for you in the morning that Rafe’s possession would forever be etched in you.
Rafe was just as overwhelmed as he took in the scent of you, the way you smelled of salt air, caramel, and the subtle hint of peaches that reminded him of what it was like to be okay. Though his eyes might’ve been closed, he knew his way around your body like it was second nature, licking the area above your collarbone just how you once confessed you liked it. It was only a matter of time until he quickly undid his own jeans, pushing them down just enough to free himself. He was hard and thick, the tip already glistening. "Come here."
He didn't have to ask twice. You scrambled over the console, settling yourself in his lap, your knees on either side of his thighs on the driver's seat. It was a tight fit, awkward yet you both slotted against each other perfectly at the same time. You positioned yourself over him, the head of his cock nudging against your entrance.
"Fuck," he hissed, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises. "Ride me."
You sank down slowly, taking him in inch by inch. The stretch, the feeling of being completely filled by him, was overwhelming. You both let out a shaky breath when you were fully seated, your forehead resting against his. For a moment, you just stayed like that, savouring the feeling, the only sounds the distant movie soundtrack and your mingled breaths in the cramped space.
Once you’d adjusted to Rafe’s size, you started to move, lifting your hips and sliding back down, setting a slow, deliberate rhythm. Rafe's hands roamed over your body, pushing your shirt up to palm your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples until they were pebbled and sensitive. His mouth was everywhere he possibly could, kissing, biting, sucking marks into your skin that added onto the collection that you knew you'd have to hide later.
"God, you feel so fucking good," he groaned against your skin, his hips thrusting up to meet yours, making you go faster. The car began to rock slightly, a steady, creaking rhythm that matched your movements. The thought of getting caught, of the car next to you hearing, only fueled the fire. You rode him harder, chasing your release, your hands gripping his shoulders for leverage.
"Rafey," you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders through his shirt. "Shit, I'm gonna—"
"Yeah, come on," he urged, his voice strained. "Cum for me. Show me how good I fuck you," he slid a hand between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing it in tight, fast circles.
That was all it took. Your orgasm washed over you as the dam of pressure that’d been building broke open, a blinding rush of pleasure that made you cry out his name. Your walls clenched around him, your body shaking as you rode out your high. Rafe followed you over the edge a moment later with a guttural groan, his hips jerking as he emptied himself inside you.
You collapsed against him, boneless and breathless, your head tucked into the crook of his neck. The air in the car was thick and humid, smelling of sex and sweat and Rafe's cologne. You could feel his heart hammering against his chest, matching the frantic rhythm of your own.
"Holy shit," you mumbled into his skin, your voice muffled and sated. A lazy, satisfied smile spread across Rafe's face as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close in the cramped driver's seat. The aftermath left you both sticky and breathless, the intense heat of your bodies fogging up the windows even more.
"Holy shit is right," he rumbled, his voice a low, contented gravel. He pressed a soft kiss to your temple, a rare gesture of tenderness that made your chest ache. "Told ya it'd be better than that shitty movie."
You could feel the smug grin in his voice, making you roll your eyes as you lifted your head, a weak laugh escaping your lips as you looked at him. His hair was a mess, sticking up in every direction, and his lips were swollen and red. He looked thoroughly debauched, and it was the best thing you'd ever seen. "Okay, let’s not forget you chose this movie," you argued, though the tone in your voice was all the more playful. You took in the way Rafe’s body slightly shone in the soft, muted light, tracing the line of his jaw with your finger. "But, yeah. You were right."
"Damn straight," he said, his hands sliding down to grip your ass possessively. "So much better, we should probably go for round two. Truck’s got a backseat for a reason." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, and you were just about to agree, your body already humming with the possibility, when a sudden, sharp rap on the driver's side window made you both freeze.
The sound was like a bucket of ice water being dumped over your heads. Your head whipped around to see a blurry figure standing just outside, illuminated by the flickering light of the movie screen.
“Shit,” you seethed as panic seized you. You scrambled to get off Rafe's lap, your movements clumsy and frantic as you tried to pull your skirt down and straighten your shirt. Rafe cursed under his breath, fumbling with his jeans and shoving himself back into his pants with a pained hiss. He yanked his polo down, trying to look presentable, which was a lost cause.
Another knock, this one more hesitant. "Uh, excuse me?" A young, cracking voice called through the glass. It was the voice of a boy who was probably more comfortable asking his mom for the car keys than confronting strangers about public indecency.
Rafe rolled his eyes, rolling down the window just a crack. The cool night air rushed in, carrying the smell of popcorn and gasoline. Standing there, looking profoundly uncomfortable in his red vest and popcorn-scented uniform, was a teenager who couldn't have been older than sixteen, his face littered with small pimples and prepubescent facial hair that you knew would haunt him later. He was shifting his weight from foot to foot, his eyes fixed somewhere on the roof of the truck.
"Can I help you?" Rafe asked, his voice dripping with an impatience that was pure Kook privilege, acting as if he wasn't just balls-deep inside his best friend two seconds ago.
"Uh, yeah, sir," the kid stammered, his face turning a bright shade of crimson. He wouldn't make eye contact. "My manager, he, uh... he saw the car... rocking." The last word came out as a squeak. "And, well, this is a family establishment, and we've had some complaints about, you know... the fogged-up windows." He gestured vaguely at your steamy windows. "So I have to ask you to, uh, to leave. Please."
You wanted the ground to swallow you whole. You sank down in your seat, wishing you could become one with the leather upholstery. This was mortifying, but Rafe, however, was anything but mortified. He let out an exaggerated sigh, like the kid was asking him to solve world hunger. "Fine, holy fuck," he snapped, already starting the engine. The roar of the V8 engine was aggressive in the quiet night. "We're leaving. Relax, kid."
"Okay, great, thank you," the teenager said, looking like he'd just been pardoned from death row. He practically scrambled backward as Rafe slammed the car into drive, not even bothering to wait for the kid to move away completely. The tires spun on the gravel as he peeled out of the parking space, leaving the flustered employee and the predictable horror movie behind in a cloud of dust.
You didn't speak until he was on the main road, the neon lights of the drive-in theatre’s sign fading in the rearview mirror. The silence was thick with a mix of lingering arousal and sheer, unadulterated embarrassment.
Finally, you broke it. "Oh my God," you groaned, hiding your face in your hands. "That was, single-handedly, the most humiliating moment of my entire life."
Rafe let out a short, sharp laugh, the sound echoing in the quiet car which warmed your heart, despite the embarrassment you couldn’t shake off. He reached over and pulled your hands away from your face, his grip firm. "Nah," he said, glancing over at you, a genuine, amused smile lighting up his features. "That was fucking hilarious. Did you see his face? I thought he was gonna pass out."
"It's not funny!" you protested, but you couldn't help the giggle that escaped. "He looked like he was about to cry."
"Good," Rafe said, his smirk returning full force. "Serves him right for interrupting us." He squeezed your thigh, his touch possessive and warm. "Besides, I told you. No one can see in these windows. Kid was just jealous."
You shook your head, a real laugh bubbling up now. "You're unbelievable, Rafey. D’you know that?"
"Hmmm, no," he shot back playfully, his eyes raking over your dishevelled state. "Maybe it’s because of you." His tone softened slightly on the last part, and your heart did that stupid little flip it always did when he let his guard down.
He took a sharp turn, heading not towards your house or his, but down a dark, empty road that led to the marina. "Now," he said, his voice dropping to that low, husky register that made your stomach clench.
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