Work Text:
You hate taking the bus.
The sudden stops and starts, the loud chuffs of the engine, the lingering smell of B.O. and spilt food. You could almost stand it if weren’t for the other passengers. The prying eyes and ever-wandering hands. More than once you’ve had to move seats.
But it’s late, the streets crowded. Patrons drunk on cheap booze stumbling from the pub, high on pleasure floating from the brothel. Neither type care to disguise the naked hunger in their eyes as you scurry past.
It might go against your better judgment, but you honestly would rather take your chances with some handsy pervert on the bus than getting dragged into an alley on the walk home.
You keep your head down as you hurry down the aisle, so it’s a surprise when a pair of hands pull you into a seat, into someone’s lap. You don’t even get a chance to call out as a gloved hand clamps over your mouth, the other delving between your legs. You try to free yourself but your arms are pinned to your sides by theirs, your legs kept spread apart by their knees. The most you can do is move from side to side as they work to expose your lower half.
Frantically, you try to catch the eyes of one of the other passengers. It’s of no use, all the passengers are in their own worlds.
“ Relax, sweetheart ,” a voice whispers in your ear, their warm breath sending a shiver down your spine. Lips press softly to your neck as skilled fingers start to stroke your core.
Even as you try to squirm out of their lap, you can feel pressure building in you from their actions. They chuckle as their movement becomes easier, the fluids caused by your building arousal aiding them. “ Someone’s eager .”
Shame twists with the steady pressure building in you, and you can’t stop the small whine in the back of your throat as a curl of their finger sends a particularly strong jolt of pleasure through you.
“ Careful now, don’t want to draw too much attention, do we? ”
Glancing around again, you’re startled to see the bus driver’s eyes reflected back at you in a mirror, another jolt of shame and arousal shooting through you as you meet their gaze. Dark eyes stare back at you, but there’s no sign of sympathy in them, just the same hunger that had followed you on the street.
There’s no way out, no one to help.
There’s another laugh in your ear as you press back into your assailant, trying to get out of view of the bus driver to no avail. Screwing your eyes shut, you brace yourself as their fingers continue to play with you. You’re close. Very, very close. The pressure in you starting to come to a head. You’re not even fully conscious of how you spread your legs a little, allowing the person under you better access.
It’s with one final twist of their fingers that you burst, cumming on their hand while biting on your lip to keep as quiet as possible. They keep going, working you through your orgasm until the pleasure starts to border on pain. Weakly, you hit their thigh. They stop, breathing heavily against your neck, the hand covering your mouth moving to stroke the side of your face while the other rights your clothes.
“ Your stop, sweetheart,” they say with a breathy laugh. Your legs feel like jelly as you stand, part strained from having been spread as they were over someone’s lap, part still shaking from pleasure.
Before you make it too far, you’re grabbed again and spun around. You only get a moment to see Wren’s face, their eyes shining, before they press their mouth to yours in a quick, sweet kiss.
They send you off the bus. You barely manage to stumble down the steps before the doors close, the dark eyes of the driver boring into your back. You wonder what Wren would do? If the driver had slammed the doors shut in your face and demanded to have some fun as well? You’ll have to remember to ask the smuggler when they came crawling through your window later.