rafe cameron [smut collection]

[ x cleo ] moan and i'll cut you

5681 words
[ knife play ]

Happiness was a feeling Rafe had lacked for most of his life and he hadn't expected to get a glimpse of it ever again, hadn't dared to hope for it. But as he was leaning over the metal railing of the cargo ship, feeling the wind in his hair and tugging at his, well actually, his fathers shirt, he felt pure bliss. His dad was alive, his family whole. The gold was saved and he, Rafe Cameron, had singlehandedly retrieved the cross of Santo Domingo.

I'm so proud of you, were the single words Ward had said as he hugged his son, seeing him for the first time again and Rafe had tried to hold back the tears. He was holding them back even now. Ever since he killed Peterkin he had felt the wrath of god on his back, had felt that he was no longer deserving of such luck as a family, or happiness, not that he ever had been. But now, now that he had the cross it seemed like god had changed his mind, had given him back his father, his family, his freedom and happiness.

It couldn't cure Rafes addiction though and he retreated back to the inside of the ship, looking for a quiet place to do a line. Somehow, he ended up in a room full of heavy, loud machinery but it was empty and that was all he cared for. Quickly, he dumped some of the white powder onto the cold surface of a control panel, anxiously looking at the amount of powder still in the plastic bag. It wouldn't last for the journey, it couldn't. He would go into withdrawals and there was nothing he could do about it. Rafe tried to ignore the thought, for now, hastily spread the coke into a messy line with his credit card and put his nose down without a straw.

"You can't be down here"

He bent up so quickly he saw black spots before he could identify the girl in front of him.

"Shit", he cursed, eyes narrowing down on the girl. She was pretty, delicate and her features soft, yet the image was destroyed by her harsh voice.

"This is staff only, can't you read, man? Don't you got a room to do your drugs in?"

"I, uh, shit", Rafe mumbled. He looked down at the line of coke he had just wanted to sniff, back up at the girl, her black skin glowing in the red lighting. "You want some?"

Her soft forehead was split by deep wrinkles as she frowned at him, arms crossed in front of her chest. "Get out", she said, rolling her eyes.

Rafe scratched the back of his head. There was no way he was just gonna wipe the line away, not with the shortage of coke he was facing anyways. He glanced up at the girl again.

"Do I know you?", Rafe said, all of the sudden, taking a step towards her that Cleo almost immediately took back to keep the distance between the stranger in front of her. Because for all she knew, she hadn't seen this boy in her life. Cleo was sure that without the machinery, she could've heard the gears in his brain rattling.

"Don't think so", she said indifferently and the way the boy was looking at her now, studying her intently made her uncomfortable but before she could snap at him again, he opened his mouth.

"Are you a hooker?", he blurted.

"Is that the only way you pathetic little kook know girls or what?", Cleo responded, not feeling particularly attacked by the statement but Rafe was afraid he offended her anyways, felt for a second of horror that he didn't want her to be offended, didn't want her to dislike him.

"Shit, I'm sorry", he shrugged and looked down on her again. "You're way too pretty to be a hooker"

Cleos mouth didn't twitch an inch at the compliment.

"I mean it", he tried again, taking another step towards her that send Cleo over the edge. She retrieved her knife within the blink of an eye holding it up to the boys throat in front of her.