A Ride on the Subway

by Talya Firedancer

Kudou Yohji was both bored and annoyed and this, as anyone who knew him would realize, was a dangerous combination.  His first affliction stemmed from the cause of the second, his annoyance.  His Super-7 had thrown a rod and it was in the shop for custom repairs.  This could take anywhere from two days up to two weeks, as he knew from experience.  So Kudou Yohji was reduced to hoofing it, bumming rides, or – the tantamount indignity – taking the subway.

He hadn't been reduced to that last of resorts since his teenage years.  Yet today he found himself with an appointment halfway across the city.  Aya had roared off in his Porsche hours ago for parts unknown, Omi was working in the shop, and Ken was off making deliveries in the shop's delivery bike.

Yohji knew that Ken would reduce him to little, bloody pieces if he took his motorcycle without asking.  There were few things in life Ken took seriously, and killing and riding his motorbike were two of them.  He would barely let *chicks* ride on that thing with him.

Saa... Yohji ran a hand through oak-brown hair and adjusted his hip-huggers.  He was in good shape, but he was not going to walk halfway across Tokyo to make his doctor's appointment.

In the end, then, he was reduced to the subway.  At the station, he shelled out a ridiculous amount of money for a new card - 20,000, which made him wince, but he could always sell the rest to Omi or one of the cute little girls who clustered in the shop.  He checked all the signs and maps and made sure he was taking the correct train.  Then he boarded, and was nearly killed in the press of people going to and fro.

Yohji gasped, reeling his way in between the close press of bodies to make his way to a far corner of the car.  He wanted a seat, but there was no chance of that.  Instead he stood, clinging to a metal bar, wedging himself into his corner of the tightly-packed car.  Okay, so maybe he wasn't in perfect shape.  He felt like a sardine in a vacuum-sealed space.  People were bumping against him from all sides, and the concept of personal space was tossed right out the window.  How could people do this every day?

No wonder you heard stories about people throwing themselves onto the tracks.

He leaned against the rail in the corner, eyes half-closing.  He had a long way to go, about forty minutes with all the stops and starts.  Too bad he hadn't brought his portable CD-player.

"--yes, and Chisato-san said that Kurata-sensei would be coming out with a new compilation of essays soon--"

"--I don't know about you, Kazuya, but I'm sick and tired of pretending.  I'm going to tell Momoko, and you don't have to tell Yuri, but it might be better in the long run--"

"--SLAPPED him, I'm not kidding, Risa, your sister slapped Daisuke right in the face!  I didn't think he'd even *done* anything, really, but--"

"--it was so CUTE, Kome, that Kusanagi guy just picked her right up and carried her to the infirmary--"

Yohji snorted.  He'd forgotten how trite conversations on the subway could be, too.  He was going to be forced to endure over an hour of this, including the time his return trip would take.

The first three stops were ordinary, every bit as boring as he remembered.  It wasn't until the shift and flow after that third stop that he felt it, and was no longer quite as bored.  Rather, it was something approaching panic that entered his thoughts.

In the press of moving people, someone had settled behind Yohji in his wedged-in corner of the subway.  This didn't seem unusual at the time.  People were constantly moving, and personal liberties were something to apologize over and move past.

Something brushed his ass.

He heard a muttered 'shitsurei' behind him and intended to ignore it.

Then it happened again, a rubbing, more lingering motion.

Yohji braced himself, sure it was due to the rocking motion of the subway car.  He gritted his teeth.  Much as he hated it, the subway was packed and it couldn't be helped if certain things happened.  Then leaf-green eyes flew wide.  There were some people, he'd heard, that *counted* on the liberties that could be taken.

One time he'd even seen – well, that had just been sexy, though.  A handsome young sarariman had been rubbing a pretty junior college girl's tits.  To his credit, she had seemed to be enjoying it, leaning back into the touch before scampering away as the door to her stop opened.  And the poor sarariman – he'd been left unsatisfied, but then, a subway encounter was too public to seek actual consummation.

He felt it again.  It wasn't just any touch; it was two hands cupping his ass, inscribing slow massaging circles.  Heavy breathing filled his ear.

Yohji froze.  He was *not* gonna stand still for this, dammit; he was an assassin, and a damned good one at that.  He shifted and the packed bodies around him closed in, forestalling any kind of movement.  Kuso.

One hand tracked over his hip and crossed into more sensitive territory.  He looked down and could just barely make out the long slender fingers of a hand lifting up the hem of his long shirt, pressing at the juncture of his legs.  The smallest moan trickled past his lips, lost in the sound of a thousand conversations.

It was a mistake.  As if the noise were encouragement, the lightest brush over his groin turned into a grab.  Fingers gripped him, flexing around him, and a body pressed up behind him.

"No."  Yohji made the first move to resist, plunging his hand down to clasp the wrist of the invasive hand.

The body sidled closer, if possible.  And the fingers were locked around his privates in a rather intimate grip.  Yohji exhaled, head tilting back, his own precarious hold slipping at the touch of a hand *there.*  It was enough encouragement and the hand massaged again, grip shifting to one that allowed for a glide up and down the growing ridge in his jeans.

"Y-yamete," Yohji gritted, disliking the sense of manipulation, if not the feel of it.  He would *not* be felt up like a woman on the subway, like some girl in the helpless thrall of an older man.  It was true he'd been with men in the past, but he was almost always on top.  It was that small, other percentage, however, that was working against him now.

As the hand moved to the button at the apex of his jeans, he seized it again and turned – well, he attempted to turn.  In the crowded space, he managed to turn his head.  His eyes caught half of a face, a dark spill of hair, and a wide-lipped mouth, sensuous.  Yohji sucked in a breath.  He'd been expecting some gross old oyaji.

This man was gorgeous.

He was stuck, both in the hemmed-in corner of the subway car, and in this man's arms.  The other hand had descended to his hip, stroking the bare flesh above his jeans.  Shit.

"Don't," the deep voice spoke in his ear.  The nimble fingers were at the top of his jeans again.  Yohji couldn't help arching back; the thought of those lips around his cock was more than he could handle.  He knew that if he made a genuine struggle, the man would let go and melt into the crowd.  If he put up a real fight, he would stop and mutter 'excuse me' again, and Yohji could walk away.  If he could manage to walk.

It was terribly narcissistic of him, but if it had been an ugly man, he could not have borne the touch; since it was a handsome one, he was paralyzed with indecision.

The hesitation was his undoing – specifically, the top button was now undone.  Yohji lolled against the body behind him as fingers shivered down his zipper.  With the motion of the subway car back and forth, it looked as if he lurched, thrown against the other body.  He wanted to look again at the mouth of the handsome man.  He almost wanted, he thought maybe...

Fingers slipped inside his jeans.

Yohji groaned again and the sound slipped from him, taken into the belly of the subway crowd.  Hot lips were on his ear, touching the lobe, a tongue flicking along the edge.

"You like this."

He could barely hear the rumble of that discreet voice.  Tucked away as they were, backs of the other passengers hemming them into the tight corner, it was as secluded as anyone could get on a subway car.  No one could see what the man's hand was doing to him, at any rate – and that was why he was doing it.

"....maybe..." Yohji managed the word, trying to turn his head.

Fingers tightened and flexed, probing into the front of his jeans, down his underwear, skimming the hard heat that tried to escape its prison.  He arched, almost standing on his tiptoes – as tall as he was, the man behind him was bigger.  He was wearing a navy-blue suit and his other hand stroked Yohji's hip with the seeking impression of a tender touch.

Lips brushed his ear again.  "Maybe?"

"Haa...haa..." Yohji tried to stand upright, to lean away from this dangerous man, to appear by any accounts normal.

The drone of the conductor crackled through the subway car, announcing the next stop.

Yohji stiffened.  The crowd was about to shift and swirl around them.  The man continued to feather teasing fingers over his hip, wrapping the other hand around his cock, stepping back and drawing Yohji with him to the furthest corner of the car.

"Maybe?" he repeated once more.  That hand began to move up and down.

"Don't stop," Yohji said at last, feeling weak in the knees.  The sarariman had a good grip on him now and Yohji's attentions were secured.

"There's an empty seat right behind me," the deep voice said quietly in his ear.  "I'm going to sit down.  Don't make too much noise."

"T-too much...noise? AHHhh--"  He was pulled against the body behind him which was sinking down, taking him with, skilled fingers moving insistently up and down his shaft, which was still restricted – in the loosest sense possible – in his underwear.  His shirt was long enough to still conceal but if Yohji looked down, he knew he'd see the cloth moving in suspicious beats.

Green eyes looked up, wild, but all he could see were backs facing him, crowded together.

He was sitting in the man's lap.  The change in positions finally registered.  He hadn't sat in someone's lap since he was a child.  Of course, the throbbing lump digging into the rear seam of his jeans was a new dimension.  Yohji couldn't help arching up a little as the man's hand went lower into his jeans.

*Ahh shit...don't tell me he's going to pull me out...*  Incredulity mingled with lust.  Those clever fingers shaped him upright, slipping free at last from the constrictions of elastic and silk until his cock was pointing straight up out of his jeans.  It was still taking place beneath his shirt but Yohji had started to feel frantically nervous.

He was breathing fast.  If the man tried to move his jeans down, he was getting up and walking away.  That was all there was to it.

The subway slid to a gradual stop, jolting on the rails.

*Shit...oh shit, oh shit...*

"Relax," the word bit into his ear, with the faint wet warmth of a tongue flicking at his lobe, "no one will notice if you don't do something stupid."

Yohji didn't see how that could be true.  He hitched himself up, preparing to stand.

The fingers on his cock moved higher and a thumb rolled over his tip, marking circles over the head that ached and felt so good he sank back down on the man's lap.  The car wasn't rocking anymore and he held still, gripping the metal rail beside the seat as the line of crowded bodies shifted, and those near the door trickled out to let another few people force their way in.

He sat motionless for another moment as the hand moved, dragging up and down the length slow enough to barely stir his shirt.  Yohji combed a hand through his hair, still looking around the car, at the trench coats sheltering them from more public view, feeling exposed.

Then one of the coats turned around; it was a tight, slow squeeze to execute the maneuver.

Yohji froze and the man behind him tried to extricate his hand from Yohji's pants.  They were caught; oh shit, he'd never heard of anyone being arrested for this but he knew it was possible.

"Excuse me," the man said in a low, cultured voice.  "If I might join in?"  He was another tall, broad-shouldered man, his fair hair close-cropped and tapering to the nape of his neck.  He had bangs that feathered into his eyes, which were a most unusual shade of blue-green.

Great.  Another gorgeous sarariman.

The man was dressed in a fawn-colored trenchcoat, and when he lifted an arm to grasp the same railing that Yohji's hand felt melded around, the coat formed a screen that blocked out Yohji's view of the rest of the subway car.  It formed an exclusive little niche with just the three of them.

And now his attention was brought to the groin at his eye-level, which displayed a bulge pressing against the seam of expensive pants.

He heard a chuckle at his ear.  "By all means," his original captor agreed.

*Oh man...I'm about to be banged on a subway car.*  He watched with fascination as the fair-haired man unzipped his trousers with one hand and, with a little wince, freed his growing cock.

Beneath him, two hands went to Yohji's hips and he felt his jeans pulled down towards his thighs.

The car jolted into action.

*I can't believe I'm doing this.*  With a sense of inevitability and a good deal of lazy sensuality, Yohji gave himself up to it and leaned forward, opening his mouth to take the head of the blond's hardening shaft between his lips.  The man before him braced himself, inclining his hips into Yohji's mouth.  He began to give head, going down as far as possible before pulling back, his tongue exploring the veiny underside of the blond's cock.

Behind him, the man gave Yohji's cock another tug and then leaned back.  The shivery sound of a splitting zipper reached him and the man captured his earlobe, flicking his tongue out to taste it.  The brunette grasped him again, giving him a few rough strokes with his palm, then a wet mouth was on his ear again, tracing its contours.  Yohji's brief sound of enjoyment was muffled as he gave head to the man in front of him, fitting his mouth down as far as it would go, backing off to the crown of the organ and repeating.  He was enjoying himself.

There was something so damned hot about sex in public places...

Yohji felt a moist spot touch his bare lower back, the head of an erection held throbbing there, then the brunette behind him used one hand to rub his cock against Yohji's rear.

"Lean forward a little," the brunette whispered into his ear.  "I want to lube you up."

Yohji's eyes went wide and he made a muffled noise of protest.  The blond pushed his hips forward, forcing Yohji to concentrate on what his mouth wrapped around.  He wanted to say no to this, say it was too much, but with the cock between his lips, he was focused on other things – and now, he was being lifted forward up off the brunette's thighs, just an inch or so.

Deep in his throat, he groaned and his hands came up and forward to trousered hips.  The blond made a noise of appreciation, burying his fingers in Yohji's thick hair, taking his mouth in a slight play of back and forth.

Moist fingers touched his crack and he hitched forward, trying to escape.  It gave access, instead, and he took on more cock, tickling the back of his throat, making him want to cough.  He was frantic, needing to relax for the hard shaft so far between his lips, unable to for the fingers prising at his secret entrance.  "Mmh...mmph!"  He was invaded from both ends, as far as he could take it.

Yohji tried to back off, pushing at the blond's hips, but the man had a good grip on him now.  He gave up and relaxed.  If he tried to make noise now, someone would find him in a *really* compromising position, with not just one, but two men going at him.  Besides...

The brunette's finger twisted inside him and he made another startled noise in his throat, humming, backing off only to go down again.  Something nudged his prostate over and over, stroking, setting off brush-fires along the pleasure centers of his body.  Yohji had never been so hard in his life.  The blond's hips moved.  Another finger pushed into him.  He sucked harder, tongue lashing at the head as he pulled off as far as he was allowed.

The car rocked around them and Yohji heard the shriek of the rails.  The fingers slipped out and he tried to pull up again, drowning in overload.  In the back of his senses he registered the call for the next station.  It wasn't his and that was all he needed to know.

"You like that?" the man in front of him murmured, fingers massaging his scalp.  "Do him now; he looks ready."

"Un," the man behind him agreed.

Yohji was helpless, still deep-throating the cock in front of him, almost frantic someone would turn around and look over the fawn-colored trenchcoat, and feeling his ass raised up another few inches.

There was a noise behind him, more of a rumble than an actual groan.  He felt a cock tip quest at his entrance, pressing, then Yohji writhed, almost losing sense of the cock in his throat as he felt another sink into him.  It moved into him from behind with a long, steady movement; once penetrating, it did not stop until Yohji was once more sitting on the lap beneath him.  He was sitting fully again, but now he was taking the brunette's throbbing erection to the root.

Yohji stopped struggling, backing off the blond's cock again, this time allowed to gasp as he registered the way he'd been claimed.  Then the man behind him began to thrust upwards in small pulses.

"Oh yeah...ahnn..." Yohji gasped.  He was moving, too, subtle hitchings that succeeded in impaling himself thoroughly as he timed it to the brunette's movements.  Deep, slightly shallower, deepest again...*fuck,* he'd never been taken this thoroughly, in this public of a place, ever before.  It would live forever in the annals of Kudou Yohji's love-records.  A cockhead nudged his cheek and he lifted a hand, grasping the shaft and bringing it to his mouth again to tongue all over.

Faster and faster, the heavy erection pounded up into him.  Yohji wanted to moan but he had slid his mouth down over the blond's hot cock again, relaxing everything he had, letting it happen.  The blond gripped his hair in one hand and began to thrust, shallow at first, letting Yohji get used to it.  He closed his eyes and opened himself to the sensations battering into and through him.

"Mmmh...yeah..." the man behind him whispered, leaning forward, still thrusting, mouth brushing his ear.  "Take all of it."

He had a brief wonder flit through his head – if the man had used a condom or not – but all he could feel was slickness.  The cock in his mouth was definitely not hooded by anything but foreskin.  It pushed between his lips eagerly, thrusting without reservation.  Yohji crept down with one hand and fisted his own erection, pumping as fast as he could.

The brunette circled him with an arm, pulling him down against the larger body, making Yohji feel each stroke as he jabbed upwards.

Three bodies moved in a rough non-unison, accentuated by the jolting of the subway car to and fro. Yohji felt like he was exploding already.  Caught in the middle, mouth wrapped around one hardness, lifted up and fucked by the other, he couldn't last long.  The grating rails released the scream he wasn't free to voice.

Sticky warmth coated his fingers.  Arms pinioned him, squeezing him, and he felt the spasmodic motion of the body behind him, giving him hard, final thrusts.  In an abrupt move, the blond pulled out of his mouth, disentangling his fingers, whipping a handkerchief free of his pocket to spill there discreetly.  He was making low noises, not more than a murmur.

"Nng..."  Yohji writhed again, reaching into his pants and wiping his hand there in his briefs, not caring.  He was still seeing white after that stunning orgasm.  The brunette behind him was still moving, but it was a languorous motion, the remnants of a body-thrumming orgasm.

In a haze, he heard the call for the next station.

*I just had sex on the subway.*

The blond leaned down, gripping his jaw in one hand and giving him a lingering kiss, opening his mouth, touching tongues.  Then he stood and put one finger to the center of Yohji's chest.  "Better get dressed.  This is my stop."

"Unn..."  Yohji half-struggled to get up, feeling the slide and press of the cock still inside of him.

The brunette's arm tightened and he gave one final push, then allowed Yohji up.  He wanted to groan as he pulled free, tugging briefs and jeans up with awkward motions.  Shit, he was going to be sore in an hour or two.  It had never been like *this.*  Yohji tried to get up but the brunette was sliding aside, standing, shouldering Yohji into the seat he vacated.

"K'so," Yohji growled, as he was bumped into place.

"Actually, it's my stop too."  With no expression of shame, the brunette tucked himself back into his trousers, zipping himself up.  The blond had already done so.  "Thanks, pretty one."  One hand touched his face but this one didn't lean down for a kiss.

Yohji slumped against the back of the seat as they both turned, trench coats swirling around them.  In a few more seconds, they would be faceless strangers again, mingled with the crowd.  His belly still burned with the remnants of sex.  Shit.  That was definitely the first time he'd been so well-fucked – by two men at once, no less.

His stop was the one after this.  Yohji didn't feel like going to the doctor anymore.

If Aya ever found out about this, he'd start prowling the subways with a hidden katana and a 'korosu zo' expression.  Ken would probably just laugh.  Yohji shook himself and scanned the car quickly.  It was coming to a stop, and the two sararimen had disappeared.  He pushed himself to his feet.  He had every intention of disembarking here, and catching the next subway home - he'd cancel the appointment and blame it on work.

As Yohji pushed his way to the double doors, a sensuous smile crossed his face.  His lips were still tingling.  He'd cancel the doctor's appointment, but he wasn't going to call the garage right away.  It wasn't absolutely essential that he get his Seven back immediately.  And, too, there was something cost-effective and environmentally safe about public transportation.

He just might start taking the subway more often.