Maysilee 🌸

You bite down hard on your lip, but still, another whimper escapes you and you can feel Rafe smirking against your neck where he leaves another deceivingly innocent kiss, right as his fingertips brush over you core again. The touch featherlight and teasing, leaving you wanting, aching for more. 

„Rafe, please-“

And you only need to close your eyes to imagine it: the pleased, self-satisfied look in his eyes as he looks up at you, his head between your thighs, your fingers tangled in his hair. His lips grazing your sensitive skin. Tell me how much you want it, angel. 

Rafe’s always been pretty vocal, but what he loves even more is how vocal you are - or rather, the mumbling, incoherent, moaning mess he manages to turn you into. 

Usually, you’re so self-assured and confident, so well-put together, but sometimes you feel as though it only needs one intense, all-consuming kiss from Rafe, paired with his possessive touch on your waist, his hands slowly, teasingly, wandering lower and lower, to turn you into an awkward school-girl with a crush, barely able to string together coherent sentences whenever you so much as look at him, see the look in his blue eyes, the wanting, the yearning-

Just then, he gives you what you want or at least a taste of it, his fingers rubbing over your clit again, though the touch is rougher, more intentional this time. 

Trying to suppress a moan, you bite down hard on your lip. Of course, Rafe immediately doubles down, his fingers rubbing over your clit in a fast, unforgiving rhythm. 

„Fuck, angel, you’re so wet“, he says, his voice rough and strained. 

„Rafe-“

You immediately trail off when you see a waiter coming your way. 

Leave, please, just leave, you think desperately, pondering about how you must look like a mess, cheeks flushed, your eyes glossy. And Rafe’s hand under the table, his fingers rubbing your clit just barely hidden from view-

At first, you don’t even notice Rafe lifting his other hand from where it was on your waist, but then you can feel his posture changing, can feel him sitting up straighter. Surely, he’s not doing what you think he’s doing, is he? 

„Waiter, over here please.“ 

Oh, you’re going to kill him. You are so going to kill him-

Just then, Rafe’s fingers enter you. He’s not soft or teasing about it anymore, repeatedly pumping into you with his pointer and middle finger, while he keeps his thumb on your clit, steadily applying pressure.

Oh fuck. 

Oh fuck, fuck, fuck. 

You’re so screwed. 

You barely even notice the waiter coming towards your table, because the heat in your core is building and building-

„What can I get you, Mr. Cameron?“ 

The cold metal of Rafe’s signet ring repeatedly grazes your sensitive skin, the added stimulation driving you crazy as always. And you know that Rafe knows how much you love his signet ring, how crazy it drives you to feel it against your skin- 

„Another whiskey on the rocks, please. And you wanted another Cosmopolitan, right, angel?“ 

Rafe increases the pace of his fingers even more and you’re beyond grateful for the 90s grunge music playing in the background, hopefully covering the noises of your little under the table action. You’re biting down so hard on your lips that you can feel the coppery taste of blood on your tongue, just praying that no moan or sigh escapes you, but you’re defenseless against the squelching noises Rafe always elicits from your core. 

In and out, he’s curling his fingers, repeatedly hitting that sweet spot-

Somehow, miraculously, you manage to pull yourself together to nod and say „Yeah, that’s right.“ Your voice sounds breathy and unusually high-pitched, but you don’t care, not when Rafe keeps hitting that sweet spot inside you, not when the pressure inside is building and building.

The waiter nods, jotting down your order, but instead of leaving, his eyes fixate on you with a concerned expression. „Hey, are you alright?“ 

Rafe’s signet ring grazing your sensitive skin-

His thumb rubbing over your clit, continuously applying pressure-

His fingers entering you in a brutal pace-

His erection, still pressing against your back-

And you know, even before you open your mouth to answer the waiter what is going to happen. 

„Totally, just a bit exhausted“, you say, right as Rafe once again rolls his hips into you. „Nothing to worry“, you add, right as he thrusts his fingers in particularly deep. 

Somehow, you manage not to whine loudly. 

Somehow, you manage to hold on, coiled like a spring, watching as the waiter tells you that he’ll be back with your drinks in a moment before he finally, finally turns around again and walks away. 

And then, right as the waiter walks out of your sight of view, right as Rafe hits that spit inside you again, you let go. 

Dizzying, white-hot pleasure overtakes you, and you slump back against Rafe, twisting around in his arms, trying to muffle the soft, breathy moans escaping you by burying your face into the soft fabric of his blue polo shirt. 

Rafe doesn’t let up though, continues to rub your clit and to pump his fingers in and out of you as your orgasm washes over you.

„Rafe-“

„Shh, angel, I know you can do it“, he whispers, coaxing a second, somehow even more intense orgasm from you. 

„Fuck“, you whimper, winding your arms around Rafe’s neck, holding on for dear life as the dizzying, white-hot pleasure overtakes you. 

In the background, Kurt Cobain croons about how he’ll take advantage while you hang him out to dry. Fitting. 

You’re not quite sure how long it takes you to come down from your high - you just know that Rafe is there through it all, the sweet nothings he whispers into your ear, accompanied by his gentle, soft touches, guiding you through it. 

After, you finally manage to lift your head up from his shoulder, meeting his blue eyes. „I’m going to kill you for that, Rafe“, you say, probably sounding and looking as threatening as a lost little puppy. 

Rafe just smirks. „Sure you will, angel.“

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