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The train wasn’t very full when they got on. Honestly, there was even a seat for Sasaki to sit in. They didn’t have their book bags with them, so they must’ve been on their way from somewhere else. But then the doors opened and so many people flooded in that Miyano was pushed closer, only room to stand right between Sasaki’s spread knees.
“Hey Miya, why don’t you sit?”
“But—! You should sit! There isn’t room for both of us, I don’t think there’s even room for you to stand up.” And it wasn’t like they could leave, the doors were already closed and they were about to leave the station.
“Maybe not, but you could always just sit on my lap.” He grins, cheeky.
“Sasaki…”
“C’mon, you look uncomfortable, and I don’t like that you’re pushed up against a stranger,”
He gestures to where Miyano’s shoulder and forearm were brushing against the back of some suited guy’s jacket.
“But that—! I-I can’t do that—!” It would be improper. They were in public!!
“Nah, the train’s so packed I doubt anyone would even notice, and even if they did they wouldn’t bat an eye with how crowded it is.
He hesitates for a moment before figuring, “Okay, I guess that’s okay.” And Sasaki swivels him around and pulls him so his back is flush against Sasaki’s chest.
It’s nice, honestly, kind of like that time they sat together in the classroom, but this time, he can feel the tops of Sasaki’s thighs against the underside of his own, can feel his ankles brushing up against Sasaki’s calves from where they rest off of the chair. He can even feel how—
Oh!
Oh…
His face turns scarlet.
“Yoshikazu,” Sasaki whispers into his ear.
Sasaki’s hard beneath his pants and radiating heat against the cleft of Miyano’s ass. It’s hot, he might be sweating a little bit. “Sh— um, you’re…”
There’s a rattle on the train and suddenly Miyano’s feeling it even more, hears Sasaki gasp. “Sorry,” he breathes out, “Just… ignore it, please.”
Ignore it? Miyano presses his lips together harshly and makes a split second decision that he hopes he doesn’t regret. Taking a quick look around, seeing that everyone else is turned away from them, he sneaks his hand between the two of them, to the hem of Sasaki’s pants and feels around blindly until his fingertips brush against cool metal. Gotcha. He undoes the button and then the zipper, pulling the layers of fabric down for just long enough to get Sasaki’s leaking cock out, mindless to the fact that it might smear against the back of his blazer and the front of Sasaki’s shirt.
“Are you sure you wanna do this, Miya?” Sasaki’s voice has taken on a gravelly quality to it, and the fact that Miyano knows it’s because of him, is just—
“I’m sure,”
He pulls off his uniform blazer and drapes it across his lap. Plausible deniability.
Then he unbuttons his own pants, but doesn’t need to go as far as unzipping to tug them down just enough to expose his backside.
“Do you have…?” Sasaki speaks up hesitantly, and Miyano catches on immediately, squirting out some lube from the travel size in his blazer pocket and starting the preparation. His inner walls are hot, almost feverish, but he opens up to his fingers in no time. Miyano is able to quickly remove his fingers from stretching himself and passively wipe the lube off with the inside of his blazer.
It’s a good thing, because that’s when Sasaki scoots down a little bit on the seat, so Miyano has easier access. His hard dick is now pressed flush against his rear, ready to push into the tight heat of his slicked up hole. Miyano doesn’t make him wait, just pushes steadily down, enveloping Sasaki whole. It feels so good, the exact thing he’s been waiting for all day, to feel this connection, this pleasure.
The traincar rattles, and so does Miyano as Sasaki’s dick stimulates his prostate. He yelps a little bit, stilling as a woman in one of the other seats glances towards them, before returning her gaze to her phone. His ears are red hot with embarrassment but he doesn’t want to stop, not now.
He can hear and feel the heat of Sasaki’s wet, heavy breaths and the occasional quiet moan as Miyano bounces himself in the rhythm of the shaking of the train car, not enough to notify anyone, but just enough to make them want more.
Sasaki roams his own hand underneath the blazer covering their laps, and stops it on top of where Miyano’s dick is straining against his still zipped trousers, downright kneading him there. Miyano hums in pleasure, dropping down even harder, and grinding down with each bounce. He’s sweating even harder now, feels feverish, and where Sasaki presses his own his forehead against Miyano’s nape, he knows Sasaki is in a similar state.
“You’re so wet for me, and so turned on by this, with all these people around.” He gets goosebumps from the way Sasaki’s breath caresses his sensitive neck.
“S-so are you!” Miyano retorts, with a particularly good thrust.
“Do you like it, the thought of everyone seeing exactly how good I’m making you feel, knowing that you’re like this in public for the world to see?
Miyano bites into his bottom lip, hard, overwhelmed but in a good way. Sasaki’s taken to pushing up into Miyano every time he drops down, pressing right into his prostate with double the momentum as before.
“What if they saw us, knew exactly what we were doing the moment they saw your pleasured face?”
“Ah!” Miyano jolts at a particularly powerful thrust. “Then, um,” he struggles to find words. “We’d probably get banned for life. They’d revoke our train passes and—“
“Maybe…” he trails off, tone low “that is, if people reported it. But what if they wanted to see it? They’d see how much you love it and not be able to look away.”
“Nmnnh—!” he moans out pitifully, biting his tongue to keep the sound in a little bit, so it’s quiet enough to blend in with the hum of the train car.
“N’ see how hard you’re working to come in your pants.” Sasaki continues, spurring him further and further.
He pants.
“And then they’ll know that you’ll be walking home with your underwear dirtied by your own cum, and mine dripping out of you on the way back.”
He chokes on air a little bit, at that.
Sasaki takes that moment to dig his fingers into the skin of his boyfriend’s hips, right above the hem of his pants, and slams him down, hard. That, coupled with Sasaki’s vulgar words, is all it takes for him to be shooting out his own release. He even feels it soak into the constricting fabric of his underwear. And Sasaki, he doesn’t just stop there, no, he fucks him through it, sending wave after wave of overwrought pleasure through him until he’s finished himself, liquid heat spurting right up into Miyano through the tip, spilling over like a fountain.
He lets out a big, slightly wheezy breath, wrung-out with pleasure. It gives him a little funny feeling in his stomach to feel Sasaki soften inside him, some of the leaking residue slipping out of him now that Sasaki isn’t straining against his rim. Sasaki slips out and tucks himself back into his pants with minimal adjustments to Miyano’s position. He hugs him tightly after, always one for affection ensuing the act. Miyano loves that about him, feels loved because of it, too.
“That was fun, thank you Miya.” He can’t believe how sincere his voice sounds, considering the subject of it.
“D-Don’t thank me for something like this—! It’s so—“
Sasaki laughs a little, and he can feel the rumble of it against his back. “Aww, why not? When I get to do things like this with the guy I love…”
Ahh his ears are turning red again, aren’t they? But… “it’s too embarrassing!”
Miyano jolts, inhales, blinks a few times, and stares down at his volume of Together in Tokyo where a startlingly similar scene to what he just imagined stares back at him through the pages— save for the people on the train. He has no idea where that came from, considering the characters in the manga were very much the only two people on the train when it all happened. He’s mortified, and he’d never ever want to really be exposed like that in public, but…
Oh.
His face is hot, practically as on fire as the rolled eggs that one time he tried to cook breakfast when he was in middle school. Though he would absolutely never admit this to anyone out loud, he’s visibly, embarrassingly, turned on at this point, straining against the seam of his pants.
He slams the manga shut and puts it back on the shelf in an almost robotic series of movements, then makes the very wise decision to take a cold shower, and try to forget this ever happened.
(If the thought comes back to him when he’s in the throes of self-pleasure, deep in the night, well, no one has to know…)