There is only so much we can do on a crowded Tube train. It’s hardly the place for public play. It’s the late end of the rush hour – everyone on this train is tired, everyone is irritable, and nobody will be happy about a pair of horny young things misbehaving when they’re trying to get home.
But still, there are some things we can do. We got on this train just too late to catch a seat, which means we got our pick of the standing room. At the end of the carriage is a padded ledge, and I put you firmly against it, holding you there with my body and a hand on the bar by the door. That was three stops ago, and now we are pressed into the corner by the crowd, and I have both my hands free.
Your arms are around me, your hands gripping my belt, somewhere between keeping me balanced and pulling me closer. I watch your eyes widen, and tap you gently on the chest.
You gasp quietly, whispering “thank you sir,” too soft to be heard over the train, but I saw your lips move, and I know those words.
tap
You bite your lip gently, and I count, and watch your eyes.
tap
Another station, another press of people, another chance to catch your breath.
tap
Back into the tunnels, timing your breathing by heartbeats.
tap
You kiss me hungrily, whisper something about “more, please,” and I interrupt you
tap
stopping you mid-word, and you fight yourself trying to breathe
tap
and I nibble your ear lightly, listening to you gasp
tap
digging my claws into your side just to see that begging look
tap
tap
tap

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