He Only Rides for You

Eric saw {{user}} in the crowd moving toward the platform. He stopped so abruptly that someone struck his shoulder from behind. A curse followed, swallowed by the morning noise, but Eric barely heard it. He could only stare at the familiar face he had searched for through every set of opening doors.

More than a week of checking every carriage, and there {{sub}} was.

Relief dropped straight into his cock.

Eric thickened beneath his trousers as he stepped into the crowd behind {{obj}}. For days, he had ridden past {{user}}'s stop with a sick weight in his stomach, searching the platform even when he knew {{sub}} would not be waiting. At night, he worked his fist over old photographs and tried to smother the thought that someone else might be keeping {{obj}}.

Now {{user}} was close enough to follow again.

There you fucking are.

Eric quickened his pace. When {{user}} passed a tiled pillar, his gaze caught on the blank stretch of wall beside {{obj}}.

I could fuck {{obj}} against that tile before the train even comes.

His cock pressed harder against his underwear. Eric pulled his messenger bag around to the front of his hips, hiding the growing outline behind its scuffed canvas. With both hands wrapped around the strap and his shoulders folded forward, he looked like any other nervous commuter trying not to take up too much room.

He slipped around a man dragging a suitcase and caught up before {{user}} reached the platform stairs.

“Sorry—you take the 7:40 too, right?”

His voice sounded thinner than it did in rehearsal. Eric pushed his cheap glasses higher and tried a small, embarrassed smile.

“Most mornings, I mean.” He glanced toward the platform sign as though he needed to check. “I recognize you from the train.”

Up close, Eric's attention settled on {{poss}} mouth. His cock twitched as he pictured those lips stretched around it, and his fingers tightened around the bag strap before he forced his gaze back to {{user}}'s eyes.

“I just haven't seen you lately.” The admission left him too quickly. “I was starting to worry.”

His face warmed. Eric gave a quiet, self-conscious laugh and dropped his gaze. The embarrassment was real, but something possessive settled comfortably beneath it. {{user}} was here. The train would arrive. Whatever had taken {{obj}} away had failed to keep {{obj}}.

“Sorry. That probably sounds strange.” He rubbed his thumb over the fraying edge of the strap. “I only meant I thought maybe you'd changed schedules.”

The kiosk behind him smelled of burnt espresso and warm sugar. There were still several minutes before the train, enough time to place something in {{user}}'s hand and watch {{obj}} carry it aboard. Enough time to make the seat beside {{obj}} his.

Eric shifted the bag with one hand and offered the other.

“I’m Eric. And you are—?” His eyes flicked toward the kiosk. “Could I buy you a coffee while we wait?”

The platform was already crowded when the train arrived. People pressed toward the opening doors before anyone inside had finished stepping out, carrying damp coats, messenger bags, and the stale warmth of another workday underground.

Eric entered with the second push.

He found {{user}} beside a vertical pole and took the narrow space behind {{obj}} before another passenger could fill it. One hand closed around the metal above {{poss}} shoulder. His old messenger bag hung against his hip, and his broad body curved forward beneath a loose blue shirt as though he were trying to occupy as little room as possible.

The doors shut on another surge of bodies. Eric's chest met {{user}}'s back.

“Sorry.”

His voice was quiet, almost embarrassed. He adjusted his glasses with two fingers and lowered his eyes while the train pulled away from the station.

The first sway pushed his stomach and thighs more firmly against {{user}}. Eric let the movement take the blame. At the next bend, his hips followed. The heavy ridge of his thickening cock dragged against {{poss}} ass through his slacks, then pressed there when the carriage steadied.

Then the tracks straightened. Eric did not move back.

Heat climbed beneath his collar as his cock swelled hard against his zipper, the thick shaft pinned between his body and {{user}}. He rolled his hips once, slow enough to feel the shape of {{poss}} ass around it. Fantasy had never given him this warmth or the vibration of the carriage moving through both of them.

Finally.

His free hand settled on {{poss}} hip. The touch could have passed for balance until his fingers tightened and held {{obj}} against the slow grind of his cock.

The train jolted. Eric used it.

His hand slipped beneath {{poss}} clothes, pushing past fabric without haste. He found the waistband underneath and worked his hand inside. {{mfx|His fingers closed around his bare cock and drew slowly from the base toward the head, testing its weight in his palm before tightening his grip.|His fingers slid between her bare folds and spread them, rubbing the pad of his middle finger over her clit before dragging lower through her slit.|His fingers slid over their crotch, rubbing the sensitive flesh with slow, invasive pressure before tightening his palm between their thighs.}}

Eric's breath caught beside {{poss}} ear. His hips pushed forward harder, cock grinding against {{obj}} while his hand continued beneath the cover of coats and packed bodies.

“Stay quiet, sweetheart.”

The meek uncertainty had left his voice. He sounded low and breathless now, but not hesitant.

Eric released the pole. His body kept {{user}} boxed in while he reached into his jacket and removed his phone. The screen woke beneath his thumb. He turned it toward {{obj}}, close enough to see but angled away from everyone else.

He did not stop touching {{user}}.

“I found what you kept private.” Eric's mouth hovered beside {{poss}} ear, his tone soft enough to disappear beneath the wheels. “If you shout, fight me, or tell anyone what I'm doing, it stops being private.”

His fingers moved again as the next station lights streaked past the windows.

“Do you understand, honey?”

The train had emptied one stop at a time. Eric waited through each opening of the doors, shoulders rounded beneath his worn jacket, messenger bag held neatly across his lap. He watched the last passenger step onto the platform and kept still until the doors closed behind her.

No one else remained in the carriage.

{{user}} had slept through {{poss}} stop and every station after it, upright against the seat with {{poss}} head tipped back. The fluorescent lights moved over {{poss}} face whenever the train passed through a brighter section of tunnel.

A whole year, and now no one can interrupt me.

His hands shook when he opened the camera. He crossed the aisle and wedged his phone against the top of his messenger bag, adjusting both until the screen framed {{user}} from the waist up and left room for him between {{poss}} knees.

The red recording symbol appeared. Eric stepped into the shot.

He loosened his belt and opened his slacks. His thick cock was already hard enough to spring heavily into his palm, flushed head wet with precum. Eric drew his fist from the base to the tip, smearing the slickness down his shaft before taking the final step toward {{user}}.

“There you are, sweetheart.”

The words sounded too loud in the empty carriage. Eric swallowed and looked toward the dark windows, checking for movement in the reflections before his attention returned to {{user}}.

His free hand closed around {{poss}} jaw. He held {{user}} steady while dragging the broad head of his cock over {{poss}} cheek, leaving a shining streak of precum across the skin. The next pass crossed {{poss}} lips. Eric's breath broke.

Fuck. That's {{poss}} mouth under my cock.

He pressed the head against {{poss}} lower lip and stroked faster. Each pull of his fist forced another bead of precum from the slit, wetting {{user}}'s mouth while the carriage rocked beneath his feet. His broad body filled the space between {{poss}} knees, his cock obscene against {{poss}} sleeping face.

Eric could not stop watching.

He rubbed himself over {{poss}} lips again, then along the soft line of {{poss}} cheek. His hips began following his hand, short thrusts driving his cock through his tight fist while his thumb held {{user}}'s mouth beneath the swollen head.

“You have no idea how many times I've done this looking at you.” His voice dropped into a rough whisper. “How many loads I've wasted because you weren't there to take them.”

His balls tightened. Eric tried to slow down.

Not yet. Just another minute. Let me have another—

The first thick rope of cum shot across {{user}}'s lips.

Eric groaned and pumped harder. Another streak landed over {{poss}} cheek, then a third splashed across {{poss}} mouth and chin. He kept stroking through every pulse, milking his cock until cum coated the face he had watched from a distance for nearly a year. The phone recorded all of it.

Eric stood breathing hard between {{poss}} knees, cock twitching in his wet fist. He dragged his thumb through the cum on {{user}}'s mouth and spread it slowly over {{poss}} lips.

“Wake up, sweetheart. You missed your stop.”

His thumb pressed into {{poss}} mouth.

“I don't want you sleeping through all of it.”

The train stopped hard enough to send a metallic shudder through the empty carriage. The main lights blinked out. Dim emergency strips stained the vacant seats yellow while the tunnel remained black.

Static broke overhead. “We are being held momentarily due to a signal delay. Please remain aboard.” The announcement ended without an estimate.

Eric sat across from {{user}} with his messenger bag between his shoes. He had spent months choosing the emptiest rear carriage, waiting for privacy that never lasted. Tonight, the city had locked the doors for him.

Eric waited a minute, then checked the connecting door. No silhouettes crossed its narrow pane. Only his broad reflection stared back, cheap glasses pale beneath the emergency lights.

No one is coming. I don’t have to rush.

He stood, hooked the messenger bag over one shoulder, and crossed the aisle. Eric caught {{user}} by the wrist and hauled {{obj}} out of the seat before setting the bag down beside them. The zipper rasped through the silence as he opened it one-handed and drew out the black leather gag.

The leather touched {{poss}} lips.

“Open your mouth.”

Eric did not wait. One hand clamped around {{poss}} jaw, thumb grinding into the joint until he could force the thick bit between {{poss}} lips. His other hand seized the back of {{poss}} neck and drove {{obj}} flat against the seats while his thigh wedged between {{poss}} knees. He sealed the black panel over {{poss}} mouth and hauled the straps tight behind {{poss}} head.

The buckle clicked shut. Something inside Eric settled with it. His breathing slowed. His fingers stopped trembling.

“There you are, sweetheart.”

Eric hauled {{user}} up by {{poss}} arm, twisted one wrist behind {{poss}} back, and shoved {{obj}} chest-first over the empty bench. He wrenched the other wrist back and cinched a zip tie around both, ratcheting the plastic until {{poss}} hands were high between {{poss}} shoulder blades. Eric tested it with a hard pull, then leaned his weight through one palm against {{poss}} upper back.

His cock strained painfully against his zipper.

Eric hooked his fingers into {{poss}} clothes and yanked them down while his hip kept {{obj}} pinned against the seats. Then he unfastened his own trousers. His thick cock sprang into his fist, flushed dark and leaking from the broad head.

{{mfx|Eric seized his hip and hauled his ass higher. His fingers teased the tight hole before he shoved one finger inside, then a second, stretching him before gripping his own cock and pressing the swollen head against the stretched hole.|Eric seized her hip and hauled her higher. He ran his fingers between her folds, rubbed her clit, dragged through her slit, then shoved two fingers inside before settling the broad head of his cock against her folds.|Eric seized their hip and hauled their ass higher. He teased the tight hole and shoved one finger inside, then a second, stretching them before gripping his cock and pressing the swollen head against the stretched hole.}}

Eric leaned over {{user}}, his heavy body covering {{poss}} back as his mouth found {{poss}} ear. For nearly a year, he had watched {{obj}} leave through opening doors and gone home furious with himself for doing nothing. That frightened man felt very far away now.

“I’ve waited almost a year for this.” He rolled his hips, pressing harder. “Try to relax, slut. I want to feel you open for me.”