rafe cameron is barry's babyboy

The first time Barry called Rafe “princess”, the boy blushed and stared at Barry, mouth open, for like two minutes. Then Rafe frowned and hit Barry, who just laughed. Rafe said, he didn’t like to be called “princess”, but Barry knew he loved it. But really, Rafe didn’t like to be treated like a princess. Whenever Barry touched him a little too gently, he froze. Whenever Barry caressed him, the kook tried to push him away. Whenever Barry took him in his arms and kissed him tenderly, Rafe bit him and punched him. Rafe didn’t like it when Barry looked into his eyes while slowly taking him, he got furious and started frantically hitting Barry, until Barry hit back, handled him roughly, flipped him over, pushed his pretty face into the mattress and fucked him ruthlessly from behind. Rafe didn’t like to be fucked like a princess. Rafe needed to be fucked like a slut.

But sometimes, on very rare occasions, Rafe allowed Barry to be gentle with him.

It had been a long day for Barry. He had been working late at the shop when he came home to his trailer; and he immediately knew that Rafe was there. The leftovers in the sink and the newly opened beer cans were a clear sign of the kook having spent his evening in the older male’s home. Barry’s home was never exactly tidy, because he just didn’t care, but damn, that boy did leave a mess, because he even cared less – or was just too used to other people cleaning up after him.

It was no surprise to Barry when he found Rafe seemingly fast asleep in his bed, facing the wall, hugging the Panthers blanket with his muscular arms and long legs, knees bent. Rafe’s left cheek pressed into the pillow, sweaty strands of hair stuck to his face, lips were open, glistening with drool. In slow regular movements his back rose and fell, the naked skin exposed to the stuffy hot air in the room. Barry could see old and fresh bruises on the boy’s naked body. Except, he was not really naked.

Rafe was wearing his princess panties.

Shiny aqua blue satin panties, flimsy fabric, strings at the sides. The back part hardly covering the two round globes. The boy got ass and just seeing it presented like this, woke up Barry’s cock.

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Color Barry surprised when one sunny afternoon, while sitting on his porch, rolling a blunt, a fancy amazon prime truck rolled up the gravel road and stopped right in front of his trailer. He used a hand to shield the sun as he watched a guy in uniform – not an officer’s uniform, but something equally ridiculous – jump out of the truck. The guy called him sir and handed him a small parcel, which he scanned with his phone that bleeped once. Then the guy climbed back into the truck and drove off, leaving Barry and the parcel on the porch.  

Barry’s eyes narrowed as he looked at the parcel, turned it in his hands. It was flat and quite small, like a thick envelope. There was nothing unusual about it – except that it had Barry’s address but the name “Rafe Cameron” on the label.

He teared it open, and his eyes grew wider and his grin bigger.

Later that day, when Rafe came up the stairs to his trailer, Barry welcomed him, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed before his chest. Before Rafe could walk past him, Barry held out his hand: blue satin panties were dangling from his index finger. Rafe’s expression was priceless. His baby blue eyes seemed to be dropping out of his head. His cheeks flushed pink. Then his whole head turned crimson. He tried to snatch the underwear from Barry’s hand, but the older male was quicker and turned his back towards him as he walked a few steps into the trailer. Barry could feel the blue eyes like daggers in his back, and he knew the boy was contemplating attacking the other, probably jumping his back. But he didn’t. When Barry turned, Rafe stood in the open door, hands balled into fists and he could see that Rafe was arguing with himself.

“So, this yours, hm?” Barry held up the panties, a string wrapped around his forefinger.

Rafe’s face twitched and his eyes seemed to be drawn to the piece of underwear. He was probably wondering how the shiny fabric would feel against his bare skin.

“No?” Barry tilted his head to the side. “Says ‘Rafe Cameron’ on the package, but not ‘Tannyhill’. Why’s that?”

“The fuck would I know?” Rafe frowned and now glared at Barry.

Barry chuckled. He knew why. He was pretty sure Rafe couldn’t have them delivered home where anyone could open the parcel. And then Daddy Cameron would know. He wondered if Daddy Cameron would see the amazon prime order on the credit card bill and know anyway. But maybe not. That boy probably ordered tons of shit like sports equipment, protein drinks, expensive toys, porn; hard to keep track.

“Obviously wrong delivery. Send it pack. Put it in the trash. I don’t give a fuck.” Rafe shrugged and shook his head – and tried not to look at the panties.

“Nah.” Barry held the panties with both his hands now, like he was inspecting them. “Kinda looks pricey, not like trash. And the color matches your eye color, country club.”

It didn’t, but seeing Rafe get all flustered at that comment, made Barry grin, his gold tooth showing.

Rafe noticed and frowned and after some hesitation, he lunged forward to try and snatch the underwear. And this time that little stunt turned into a brief fight, both tearing at the piece of clothing, and ending with Barry having Rafe in a headlock.

“Stop that shit!” Barry growled, his expression wild, his arm pressing harder against Rafe’s throat. Rafe’s hands clawing into the muscles, his face red, lips agape, he gasped for the little air that he was offered. Though his struggles were futile, Rafe wouldn’t relax.

“Fucking stop that!”

A grunt and Rafe’s resistance weakened, probably because his struggles were focused on getting air now. Being taller, Rafe was bent backwards awkwardly, his weight leaning against Barry, who stood firmly and in control.

With his free hand, Barry held the satin panties in front of Rafe’s face, who looked up from the arm that was pressing against his neck.

“Pretty, right? Made for a princess.” Barry rubbed the underwear over Rafe’s heated face. He felt the boy tense, then shiver.

“You gonna wear them princess panties. And nothing else.” Barry’s voice had that raspy tone that got smoother at the end.

He pushed the piece of clothing into Rafe’s gaping mouth and loosened his grip, letting Rafe go. The boy almost tumbled to the floor, but caught himself, coughing for air as he spat out the underwear. Rubbing his throat, he bent down to pick it up from the floor, shooting Barry a look that was almost shy.

“Put them on.” A firm command that didn’t allow any objection or hesitation.

With a hanging head, but cheeks burning with excitement, Rafe walked into the bedroom, while Barry sat down on the couch and waited.

When the boy returned, Barry’s look of appraisal held not even a hint of mockery.

“Fuck.” He licked his lips and took in Rafe’s full frame.

The lanky boy slowly walked closer, his shoulders hanging, he barely looked at the other male, bangs covering his blue eyes, so there was no telling if they really matched the color of the panties. One hand wrapped around his own wrist, Rafe didn’t know where to put his long arms, as his long legs moved, until they stopped. He stood about two feet away from Barry in all his glorious broken beauty. It was as if Rafe didn’t know where to put his too big body. Every part of him was well-defined, and yet nothing seemed to fit – until the one looking at him, made it fit.

The hip bones protruding, the v-lines showing, tan lines on the slim waist and the defined thighs, the shiny blue fabric looked nicely on Rafe’s skin tone. The fabric stretching over his bulge. The strings almost cutting into his flesh.

Not lifting his gaze, Barry put up a finger, made a circling movement in the air, and Rafe followed that command and turned around.

Barry’s eyes grew wider as he looked at, no, savored the sight of Rafe’s backside. The back muscles tensed up, he noticed, when Barry audibly drew in air, sounding a lot like whistling. The panties hung low on Rafe’s narrow hips. The fabric seemed like it was floating in smooth, glossy waves over Rafe’s round ass cheeks, not nearly covering enough, and covering too much at the same time.

“Beautiful,” a whispered word.

Barry’s hand reached out, the fingertips tingling, the palm prickling, eager to touch. But the hand gripped the boy’s hip instead and pulled him close. Rafe let out a surprised gasp and fell right into Barry’s lap, clinging to Barry’s arms, shoulders, his neck. Almost shaken by the unexpected movement. But Barry held him safely in his arms and leaned back, Rafe sitting sideways on his thighs, knees drawn up, leaning against Barry’s chest, leaning into him.

Rough palms rubbed over soft skin, rubbed over smooth fabric, rubbed over Rafe’s butt.

“So beautiful,” Barry cooed, and caressed and petted and stroked the pretty boy in his arms. And instead of freezing, Rafe melted into the embrace, and held onto him, burying his face in the crook of Barry’s neck. And little whimpers escaped his mouth pressed against Barry’s shirt, and told Barry to keep going, as he patted his beautiful princess boy’s butt.

So Rafe spent the night at Barry’s wearing his princess panties. And he wore them the next day, underneath his preppy slacks sitting at the dinner table in Tannyhill. If it had been for Rafe, he’d probably never have taken them off. Though he always insisted he hated them, and yet he blushed crimson, every time Barry marveled at the look. And that blush on Rafe’s cheeks often turned into furious heat when he started a fight, only to find himself bent over some table or chair or on the floor on all fours soon enough.

It was Barry who made sure they were washed regularly.

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And Barry had the panties freshly washed and dried the other day, so that Rafe was wearing clean panties that night, when Barry found the boy sleeping in his bed.

Barry kicked off his shoes and pulled his sleeveless shirt over his head. As he sat down on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipped, but Rafe didn’t stir. His hand hovered over the boy’s back, moved over the curve to his ass, and he gently caressed it. Barry noticed a brief stirring, a little change in breathing, that told him that Rafe might be waking up. But the boy didn’t show any other signs of being awake, neither turned, nor opened his eyes. Just his ass was pushing up against Barry’s palm. Just a bit, as if it was snuggling up against Barry’s hand. The fabric felt cool and slippery under the touch of his rough palm. The skin felt warm and smooth. The ass was almost hairless – Rafe shaved for “athletic reasons” since he was 15, and being a natural blond, the hair was silky and soft.

Barry pushed the panties aside, and his fingertips wandered over the exposed cheek, along the crack. He heard a little whimper and saw Rafe pressing his lips tightly together. The next sounds Barry heard were muffled and strained moans as his fingertip found the tender muscle, circling it gently.

He got up from the bed and he could see that Rafe froze, he could tell that the boy had a hard time keeping up his pretend sleep and not let impatience win. But he must have heard Barry unzip his baggy pants and pull them down, because his body seemed to relax again. Barry was naked, still standing and marveling at his sleeping princess boy when he took some lube from the nightstand and started stroking his own half-hard cock.

He lay down on the bed, on his left side, behind Rafe’s half-asleep body, resting his head on his left arm, using his right hand to pump his own cock until it was rock hard. Rafe didn’t stir and kept breathing calmly though he must have heard the wet slapping sounds. Rafe lay so still that for a moment, Barry wondered if the boy was really asleep. In this sleepy state, Rafe was much more relaxed, easier to handle. And – Barry found out when pushing the panties aside again – his tight little hole granted access much easier in this state. Barry rubbed around the entrance in small circles, before a well-lubed fingertip dipped in. Utter softness and hot tightness welcomed his digit. He pushed a little deeper, added a second finger, stretching the tight ring that firmly clasped at the intruders. A little smacking sound was heard when Barry pulled out his fingers. And a little whine came from Rafe’s now parting lips.

Barrys lips found the boy’s shoulder. And for once Rafe’s muscles did not tense up under such a gentle touch.

A little suppressed moan left Rafe’s mouth when the thick tip of Barry’s cock stretched the tight ring, and then the head was sucked in. A groan came from Barry’s own throat, followed by a tense growl as he slowly pushed in, very slowly. One hand on Rafe’s hip, his other arm had moved under Rafe’s body. His cock was not yet fully inside, when Barry rolled on his back in a smooth but quick movement. Rafe gasped but remained relaxed as he was now lying on his back on Barry’s chest, ass half filled with dick.

The blanket pushed out of the way, Barry gripped Rafe under the knees, pulled them up to his chest, spread him wide for him. He put his own feet on the mattress, knees bent, making it possible for him to move his hips and thrust into Rafe’s ass. The back of the taller boy’s head lay on the mattress beside Barry’s head. His stubble scratching the tender skin on Rafe’s neck. And Barry fucked sleepy Rafe from below, slowly, gently, steadily, deeply. Sleepy Rafe’s breathing hitched whenever Barry’s cock hit that sweet spot, so tantalizingly slowly. Sleepy Rafe’s hands gripped the sheets, gripped Barry’s head, gripped his thighs, fingers digging into flesh, as if silently urging to go harder and quicker.

Barry groaned and paused, his cock deep inside Rafe’s silky tight hole. He felt him convulsing around him and quickly pulled out. Only the tip touching the now gaping entrance. The boy whimpered, wriggled and writhed, so Barry, put an arm around him to keep him on top of him. Rafe’s feet curled and he tried to arch his back, shoving his ass towards the cock that had left him too soon. And Barry held him tighter preventing him from rolling or falling off of him, as the boy started squirming in his impatience.

Barry teased him, his hand palming Rafe’s hard twitching cock, covered in the satin panties. The boy whimpered. And Barry was this close to tell him to beg for it – but since Rafe was still playing the sleeping beauty, he only chuckled and stroked him gently.

“So needy,” Barry cooed, and a little frustrated groan was the answer, but that sound was turned into a loud moan when Barry’s thick cock thrust deep into Rafe’s tight ass. Hips rocking quickly, he fucked him hard from below. It didn’t need much, and the boy came in his panties, the tight walls convulsing, making Barry groan, tense up, and ride that beautiful very vocal orgasm the boy was experiencing. Barry enjoyed feeling every part of it: the building up, the unbearable tension – expressed by the whining growing more desperate – the tensing up, and the brief but perfect moment of pure bliss, when Rafe finally let go and completely loosened up. Barry took that moment to thrust his thick cock deeper and more ruthlessly into the boy’s entrance, taking all of him. And while Rafe was still shaking from his climax and trying to regain his breath, Barry kept fucking him in a relentless rhythm, now using that pretty hole for his own needs, until he came, buried balls deep in his messy whining princess’s ass. Barry groaned and several ropes of hot cum filled his babyboy. And Barry knew that Rafe would sleep in these soiled panties and walk around them proudly the next day.

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