rafe cameron [smut collection]

[ x barry ] bounds

 6900 words 

When Barry said he had something fun for the two of them, Rafe imagined maybe molly, or acid, or some other kind of drug—fun, like Barry promised with a conspiring smirk. The cuffs didn't quite live up to Rafe's expectations, and he huffed a dry chuckle, rolling his eyes at the sight of them hanging from Barry's finger.

"Alright, where'd you get these?", he asked.

"Stole them off a cop, whadda ya think?", Barry grinned and climbed onto the bed.

"Nahh, for real?", Rafe made, uncertainty evident in half a grin on his lips.

"Found that junk into the pawn shop, stupid", Barry said, and reached out for Rafes hand in his lap. "Thought we could have a little fun with 'em"

His fingers barely met the skin of Rafes wrist when he already jerked away almost impulsively. Snatched his hand right out from Barry's finger tips and hid it behind his back. Barry followed it with his eyes and grinned.

"You resisting arrest, Babyboy?", he teased.

Within a second, he'd grabbed Rafe by the neck and tossed him into the mattress with ease, the boy liked a tussle if anything, got him all hot and horny, and Barry liked that he always won. Straddling him, he managed to get ahold of one of his hands, clicking the handcuff around before Rafe could even attempt to fight back.

Resisting was a gross understatement for Rafes reaction to the cold metal around his wrist. He fucking fought, pushing an elbow into Barry's ribs from behind, using that moment of weakness to turn around and hit his jaw, the handcuffs just around one hand painfully hitting Barry's head in the process. Rafe finally managed to get him off, throwing him off the bed with the sheer force behind his push, although he'd never intended to get this rough. Even after 20 years in that body of his, it still sometimes felt like a tool he shouldn't be in control of, or wasn't really, anyways.

"Fuck, Rafe", Barry panted on the floor, rubbing his aching head. "My bad"

Rafe closed his eyes and shook his head. He should be the one apologizing already, for yet another unwarranted outburst of violence he could still feel pulsing in his aching knuckles and Barry had to suffer for again; all too often did.

"Shit, man, I thought we were messing around, bro", Barry offered apologetically.

He slowly got back on the bed, wary not to get too up in Rafes space, trigger another fit of rage. Usually he could tell the difference pretty well; Rafe still hurt him for real when they were play fighting, always just a little more rough than he had to be, but this shit was different. The intensity with which he fought back was primal, almost, driven by fear and Barry felt awful for not calling it, when he should've.

"Yeah", Rafe replied shortly, neither really denying nor agreeing with it. After a short awkward pause, and Barry's concerned expression getting uncomfortable, he focused on his wrist, tried prying the metal of the handcuff off with his other hand. Didn't seem to realize the effort was entirely pointless.

"Hey, Country Club. Hey. Look up, bro. What's the matter, huh?", Barry interrupted him, hesitant to reach out and make him look up with a curled finger under his chin, deciding it was better not to touch.

"Nothing, bro. I'm just not into your stupid role play thing, alright", Rafe justified, and the sharp tone of his voice suggested anything but nothing.

"Oh, we don't need to role play", Barry grinned and grabbed the loose end of the cuffs hanging off Rafes wrist, teasingly pulling on them. "Last time I checked you're a criminal for real, big boy"