lipgloss [rafe cameron]
now playing: i was never there - the weeknd
tags: f!reader, pogue!reader, drug use (weed & coke), oral fixation, reader has tattoos, they’re just making out nothing crazy
it wasn’t uncommon for kooks to show up to the cut, especially for a party like this. it was uncommon, though, for rafe cameron to eye you like that all night. rafe had shamelessly stared you up and down while you were dancing, watched you apply your lipgloss in a hand mirror, walked over with an arrogant grin when you sat alone around the bonfire.
you sunk down on the lawn chair, sipping on a cold beer and scrolling on your phone.
“sup?” rafe sat on the tree stump next to you, his beer spilling on your legs. you wiped it off and faced the other way.
“not in the mood, rafe.” any conversation you ever had with him always ended in screaming or someone getting punched. you really wished you could last a party with out any of that.
“say, you-” you cut rafe off by getting up to leave, only hearing him mutter ‘bitch’ as he watched you go. you knew he was going to run after you.
you went into the house and got another beer from the fridge, cracking it open on your way to the backyard. the music was still loud, but not too crazy, so you sat on the porch steps and took a tin box out of your bag.
“thank you, jj.” you muttered, lighting up the front of the rolled cigarette. the heavy, bitter taste filled your mouth as you inhaled, and clouded the air when you exhaled.
you were starting to relax, your head feeling heavy as you let it fall back, only for a loud crack to startle you.
“my bad…” someone muttered, emerging from the dark side porch. you watched a foot swipe broken glass under a chair, before they walked towards you.
“your curfew’s not over yet?” you watched rafe stumble before finally taking the seat next to you. rafe’s eyes were bloodshot, his pupils blown like big, obsidian marbles.
“what’s that?” he ignored your sarcasm, index finger poking the side of your ankle. he wrapped his fingers around the dainty, gold anklet, pulling it up so he could see the ink on your skin. “save the turtles.” he chuckled at his own joke.
“it’s just a turtle.”
“what, you use metal straws and everything?” he kept chuckling and a smile threatened to escape your lips as you took another hit from the joint.
rafe stared, intrigued, at the glossy remnants on the cigarette’s end, and back at your own lips, the same glossy substance spread on them.
you assumed he was looking at the joint, so you offered it to him. he gladly accepted, fingers shaking slightly as they crossed with yours. you leaned back, elbows resting on the top step and sighed. your eyes shot up at rafe’s dark ones when he tugged on your waistband.
“p4l?” you both looked down at the small letters by your hip. you didn’t shake his hand off.
“pogues for life.” you chuckled when he groaned.
“what other tattoos do you have?” he passed the cigarette to you, leaving it between your lips, coating his fingers with your lipgloss.
you shook the arm of your flannel off, showing him the small tattoos on your arm with little explanation.
“and…”
“and?” he looked curious. you turned your body to face him and brought your pinky fingers to your bottom lip. grinning, you pulled it down to show off skinny ink lines, healed into the pink skin. rafe leaned closer but you were quick to pull away.
“wait, what does it say?” he cupped your jaw, making you face him again. you just shrugged, flashing him a smile as his grip on your jaw tightened, two of his fingers pressing on your neck.
he brought his other hand up, thumb pulling your pouted lip down, lipgloss smearing on your chin.
“why not?” he read out the words. your eyes were glossed over, inviting him. you opened your mouth slightly, his thumb pushing against your tongue now.
he pulled away with a grin, shaking his head side to side. rafe searched in his polo shirt’s pocket, fishing out a small, white baggie and a hundred note.
you looked at the way his hands worked silently. he used a key to take some of the white powder out, his eyes shooting around for a surface. you rubbed your thigh against his, a gasp coming from your mouth when his fingers wrapped around it. his stupidly big, gold ring was cold against your skin as he sprinkled the white powder in a clean, straight line. his other hand rubbed circles on your calf as he snorted the line through the money bill.
rafe looked up at you, sniffing, before coming down, lips hovering over your thigh. he kissed the remnants of the white powder away before finally sitting up.
“you’ve got something…” he muttered, thumb brushing your chin, cleaning up the gloss he messed up earlier. rafe leaned closer, lips hovering over yours before catching your bottom one between his teeth.
you were the one who finally kissed him, painstakingly slow. his hand snaked to the back of your head, pulling you closer to deepen the kiss.
your lips were sticky against his, the strawberry taste overpowering the bitter one that alcohol left on your tongue. rafe sucked on your bottom lip, teeth barely grazing against it as he pulled apart. he admired his creation, sticky pink lipgloss all over your chin and kiss-bitten, swollen lips.
he kissed you again, groaning against you when you dragged his bottom lip with your teeth. it was so addicting, the way your fingers played in his hair, how you placed your legs over his lap to shift closer.
“you’ve got something.” you repeated his words from before, teasingly, and tugged on his bottom lip with your thumb.
“seems like you made a mess.” he mumbled, kissing the tip of your thumb before circling his tongue around it.
“seems like it.” and just like that, you were off him, getting up the stairs to leave. you knew you were leaving him frustrated and an annoying boner to deal with.
his fingers fell on his mouth, still tainted with the taste of your lipgloss. you waved goodbye over your shoulder before he could protest, and walked back inside the house. you knew he would run after you again.
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