MY GOD, YOU’RE DIVINE
18+ MDNI — dark themes, m and f masturbation, very pervy!rafe, voyeurism, breaking into someone’s house, swearing. FT. STALKER!RAFE CAMERON X AFAB!READER
he has been watching you for a while now. he knows what time you wake up every morning to start getting ready for your job at the local library, he knows that your favourite place to get breakfast is the little cafe tucked between a sandwich and pet store, where you order a butter croissant and latte to go every morning. he knows that most of your family resides in kentucky, and you like to visit them during the winter season, and he also knows that your cat died last month.
he personally sent a card to your apartment to express his condolences—which wasn’t hard seen as he knows that it’s on the fourth floor of the red-brick building by the car wash. he found the card in the trash a few days later when he was searching for the shirt you threw out because it was ‘too small’. he’d heard you complaining about it on the phone to your friend when he was stood outside your door a week or so ago.
it’s raining hard for an early evening in may, and rafe has been sat in his car for over an hour now. the windows have begun to steam up, so much so that he keeps having to wipe the condensation away to make sure that he can properly seen across the street to make sure you get home safe. you were supposed to arrive home an hour ago, as you do every day. he’s worried that something has happened to you. his leg bounces impatiently, rocking the car with it, as his eyes scan the parking lot. your audi still hasn’t parked in its usual spot (about ten feet from the front doors, if he remembers correctly).
a few more minutes pass, and rafe can’t handle not knowing where you are anymore. he grabs his phone and first opens instagram to see if you’ve added to your story or posted or even shared your location. nothing. next, he checks twitter. still nothing. his grip around is phone tightens, his knuckles whitening his skin and his jaw clenching as his stomach tightens uncomfortably. where the fuck are you?
he debates going inside and asking your neighbours whether or not they’ve heard anything, whether you’ve told them anything. the risk of you finding out a guy you don’t know is asking after your location puts him off, though. against his better judgement, he unlocks his car and pushes the door open, the rain falling in heavy sheets across his face. he knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t not know. just as he’s about to make a beeline for the building’s front doors, a familiar car pulls into the parking lot and into its designated spot. he feels his shoulders relax in relief, but quickly remembers himself and slides back into his car.
he watches through hooded eyes as you get out of your car and retrieve your bags from the backseat, your hair pushed up out of your face and your cheeks flushed. he wonders whether something happened at work today. there’s a bounce in your step that’s not usually there, and your mouth is pulled up into a less-than-casual smile. jealously curls low and relentless in rafe’s chest; what if you’ve met someone?
he tries not to dwell on that thought for very long in favour of staring unabashedly at your ass as you walk into the apartment building, fingers absentmindedly playing with his bottom lip. he watches through the window as you step into the elevator, his leg finally stilling once the doors shut behind you. at least now he knows that you’re safe. but what if you really have met somebody? the thought makes him feel sick.
the idea of it seems to churn around in his mind, worsening the longer he sits there not doing anything, and after a few more minutes, he can’t stand the volume of it anymore. it’s a rash decision, a stupid one, but that certainly doesn’t stop him. he gets out of his car and starts after you, his pace controlled and stiff to try and appear normal. he feels anything but right now.
he takes the stairs, not wanting to use the elevator in case he runs into someone or even bumps into you. he knows not many people use the stairs here, anyway. when he’s actually stood in front of your door, he hesitates — he’s never been in your apartment while you’re there, too. he’s always thought it to be too risky. he knows he can’t stop himself, though.
he fishes the copy of your key that he’d made from the spare one you used to leave under the doormat from his pocket. that was until your neighbour warned you of the dangers of doing something so foolish. you’d told her that you’re forgetful, and often misplace your keys, to which she’d suggested keeping one for you, just in case. rafe had heard the whole conversation whilst sat in the stairwell and had silently cursed the old pensioner for being so smart. not that it mattered anyway, he’d had his own copy for a month before that already.
slowly, he inserts the key and unlocks the door, holding his breath as he does so. as carefully as he can manage, he pushes open the door a little and peeks inside to make sure that you’re not anywhere near it. thankfully, the hallway is empty and the only sound he can hear is from the tv playing in the living room. he slips inside, still holding his breath as if that will help him stay hidden, glancing around to try and figure out where you are.
that’s when he sees it. your bedroom door is slightly ajar, the lights are dimmed and your pants lay discarded in front of it. he swears he almost looses his mind then and there. making sure to avoid the creaky wooden floorboards that he has mapped out in his mind, he steps over to your bedroom, hiding behind the wall beside it and daring to sneak a glance through the gap.
you’re lay back on your bed like some sort of goddess, your panties thrown at the foot of the bed and your fingers buried between your spread legs. your other hand is covering your mouth to muffle any sounds that you make and he can just make out the furrow of your eyebrows. you look beautiful. he stands there, entranced for a moment, simply taking in the sight of you as you pleasure yourself. he allows himself to wonder what it’d be like if that were his hand, if you let him touch you like that.
he doesn’t even realise that he is palming himself through his jeans, too focused on not missing a single thing you do to care much what he himself is doing. he burns the image into his memory, half tempted to pull out his phone and snap a picture for later. he resists in favour of gingerly unzipping his fly and wrapping his hand around his cock. he’s already leaking precum, and he uses it as a lube to spread around his tip before giving himself an experimental stroke.
the pleasure runs through him like a bolt of electricity, from the tips of his toes to his head, and he can barely suppress the sound of satisfaction that threatens to pass through his lips. your legs shake and your hips grind up against your fingers, the sounds coming from where you lay sounding like music to his ears. rafe uses his free hand to hold himself up against the wall as his knees begin to buckle, his mind full of nothing but you.
he can feel himself getting close already, the way his balls tighten and his cock twitches being sure signs, but he can tell you’re not, so he removes his hand and forces himself to wait. he wants to fall over the edge with you. the hand on your mouth drops down to rub tight circles over your clit, and he mirrors your movements against his tip, the slight bit of stimulation causing his eyes to roll back. he quickly regains his focus, though, fixing back on the way your pussy squelches lewdly with every plunge of your fingers.
when your arm shoots out beside you to grip frantically at the bedsheets, trying to ground yourself, he returns his grip on his dick and pumps along with your rhythm, feeling himself begin to tilt over the edge. and when you moan without shame or reservation, your hips bucking one last time and your back arching up off your bed, he comes right along with you, his jaw slackened and his shoulders slumped forward against the wall.
you sigh and relax into the blankets beneath you, satisfied with yourself, whilst he is trying to regain his breath as quietly as possible, his body still shaking. “shit.” he curses beneath his breath, stuffing himself back into his pants and quickly slipping back over to the front door. the thrill of having been in your apartment at the same time as you, and watching you get yourself off in the private of your bedroom, is addicting, and he feels a little disappointed that he is leaving.
he remembers to lock the door behind him, returning the key back into his pocket and walking unsteadily over to the stairwell, taking them two at a time to get to the parking lot as quickly as possible. he sucks in a breath of the cold fresh air once he’s outside, getting back into his car and starting the engine. he can’t help but smile smugly to himself as he drives out onto the main road, fingers tapping along to the music playing from the radio. you’re his, whether you know it yet or not.
🏷️ ⦂ @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @livstarzz @camerxnlove
author note. sorry this is so late xoxo
