The station was alive with the usual chaos of rush hour—announcements echoing overhead, the rhythmic clatter of heels against the tiled floor, and the murmur of tired commuters lost in their own worlds. We had arranged this moment, planned it down to the finest detail, yet the anticipation still sent an electric thrill through me.
You spotted me first, your gaze locking onto mine through the shifting bodies of the crowd. A flicker of a smirk played at your lips as you made your way through the throng, stopping deliberately close. The warmth of your body, the scent of your perfume mingling with the crisp coolness of the evening air, wrapped around me like a whisper of a promise.
We stood face to face, mere inches apart, the press of other travelers forcing us even closer until my breath ghosted over your lips. The proximity was intoxicating—every tilt of your head, every flutter of your lashes, an unspoken invitation. Yet, we said nothing. Not with words.
I let my hand drift down, fingers teasing the hem of your coat, slipping beneath the fabric with a slow, deliberate motion. The moment my fingers grazed your bare skin, I felt the sharp intake of your breath, the way your body tensed for just a fraction of a second before you relaxed into it, surrendering to the delicious inevitability.
The train schedule flashed above us, a red glow illuminating your face as my fingers continued their languid exploration. You were wet already, the evidence of your arousal slick beneath my touch, and I couldn't stop the slow, knowing smile that curved my lips.
You held my gaze, biting the inside of your cheek, struggling to keep your composure as my fingers moved in teasing circles, never giving you quite enough, yet far too much. The noise of the station faded into nothing, the world narrowing to the illicit friction between us, the silent challenge in your eyes.
Most people were too wrapped up in their own lives to notice—the businessman scrolling through his phone, the teenager tapping along to a song only they could hear, the elderly couple discussing their weekend plans.
Except for them.
A couple, stood just a few feet away, their eyes locked onto us with knowing intrigue. The woman’s lips parted slightly, her fingers tightening around her partner’s arm, as if she felt the heat of our moment curling around her too. The man beside her swallowed, glancing away before looking back again, unable to resist the lure of what they were witnessing.
You saw them too. The way your breath hitched, your pupils dilating ever so slightly, told me everything I needed to know. You liked it. The danger, the risk, the thrill of being seen.
The announcement for our train broke the spell, a robotic voice calling for passengers to board. With one final stroke, I withdrew my hand, brushing the remnants of your pleasure against your inner thigh before stepping back just enough to let the cool air slip between us.
Your eyes were dark, heavy with unspoken need, but you said nothing. You simply exhaled, a single slow breath, and smoothed down your coat as if nothing had happened.
We turned and walked toward the train, side by side, like two strangers who had never touched.
But they knew.
And that made it even better.
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