would u ever write stepbro! rafe?? love u
i love you too!
it was safe to say that your relationship with your stepbrother had way exceeded the confines of being appropriate. sure, you guys didn’t adhere to the cliche norm of being mortal enemies, or purposely being disrespectful for the sake of being rebellious — you two loved each other, perhaps a little too much. rafe knew how sick it would be to the naked eye — the older stepbrother preying on his pretty little stepbrother, but it was far more than that, much to his own disdain. you were sixteen when you were first introduced, doe eyed and welcoming to him and his family, but now you were nineteen — a bit older, and far too wise for his liking, you knew what you wanted and that’s what made things even more complicated for the two of you and you precarious little situation.
the routine cheek kisses that you’d give to your blended family when you’d come down for breakfast, dressed in one of his old college t-shirts, and skimpy panties that were hopelessly swallowed by the plush of your ass, they lingered just a little bit longer when you reached rafe. your plump lips were warm and pillowy against his cheek, and he’d simply smile at you, “mornin’ sweetheart,” he’d mumble, not missing the way you’d pathetically blush as you pulled away from him, before swiping a ripe piece of cubed melon from his plate.
and both of your parents would simply sit and watch, completely oblivious, as they were just relieved that rafe had finally gotten along with someone.
however, others on the divided island were much more privy to just how close rafe cameron and his doting stepsister were. when it came to outings and drug-ridden parties, rafe was far from inconspicuous with the fact that you were his. if his bloodshot bright blues weren’t honed in on your every move, he’d have you perched on his lap, a dopey grin on his face as you smiled lazily at him, your gums numb from the fine white powder he’d smeared on them a few minutes prior, “how y’feelin’ baby, y’okay?” he’d ask, pressing his chapped lips to your temple as you let out a content sigh, laying back to rest your head against his firm chest.
“m’okay, rafey,” you’d hum, your delicate acrylic-nailed fingers coyly fiddling with his longer and ringed digits.
to make the waters just a bit murkier, rafe had been the man to rid you of your purity — and you wouldn’t have it any other way. i mean, he knew you, he knew what made you tick, he knew just the right spots to get you to come undone.
“fuck, keep your eyes on me, mama — know it hurts baby, just look at me,” he cooed, his sweat-slicked forehead resting atop of yours as you nodded, your pouty lips parted slightly as the entirety of his hard cock filled you to the hilt, a pained whimper leaving your throat as rafe’s fingers laced through yours, his heavy hand pressing yours into the lush mattress.
a soft cry left your lips as rafe kissed you, the kiss hungry, yet gentle as he swallowed your sweet sounds. with his free hand, rafe lifted your leg to hook around his waist, “s’too much — hurts,” you moaned, your dolly eyes welled with threatening tears as rafe lifted his head, validating your concerns with a slight nod.
maintaining his slow and deep rolls of his flexed hips, rafe licks over his dry lips — it took everything in him not to fuck you deep and hard into the mattress, he couldn’t hurt you, “i know baby, shit — y’feel so fuckin’ good, fuck!” he grits out, his stringy curtain bangs falling over his eyes as he greedily watches your sopping wet pussy swallow him in, his spit-coated lips parted with a drunken gaze.
once ward was out of the picture, and rafe had taken it upon himself to take over the duties that came with being the main man of the cameron household, he became a bit more forward with your relationship. your mother had become far removed, due to her ongoing affair with her tennis coach — which made things just a bit sweeter for rafe. he decided to buy you a diamond-encrusted ring with his birthstone on full display, a symbol of his undying affection for you. and you wore it with pride, the two of you parading around a vacant tannyhill, engrossed in smiley and sloppy kisses, kisses that turned into feverish fucking against any nearby wall or solid surface.
“m’gonna marry you, princess,” rafe exhaled sharply, pressing his lips to your forehead, before returning his lips to yours, a wet smack coming from your conjoined lips, “ward’s not comin’ back — y’mom is busy with her new boyfriend — y’mine for the taking, baby,” rafe spoke between wet kisses, his voice low and breathy as you gazed up at him with hopeful eyes, batting your curled lashes at his every word. god, you were a hopeless romantic, it was easy for you to get caught up in your romance-ridden dreams.
“i’m yours, rafe,” you decided, and you didn’t care who knew it.
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