White Collar fic - Take the F Train
Fandom: White Collar.
Title: Take the F Train.
Pairing: Neal/Kate.
Rating: NC-17 for explicit M/F sexual content.
Warnings / Enticements: public sex and exhibitionism.
Spoilers: none - it's almost entirely set many years pre-canon. This story disregards Season 2's revelations about Neal's background and how he met Kate.
Word Count: 3,100 words.
Summary: some of Neal's favorite memories of Kate involve subway trains.
Author's notes: sincere thanks to my fabulous beta cactus_cat, who read this over (twice!) despite not knowing the fandom.
This story was written for the lovely elrhiarhodan, who is celebrating her one-year anniversary in White Collar fandom.
***
One.
When Neal is off the clock, the subway is his main means of transportation. He lives too far uptown to walk most places he needs to go, cabs are expensive, and the buses often get hopelessly snarled in traffic. Peter usually gives him a ride to and from work, but Neal can hardly expect the guy to do chauffeur duty in his spare time. Peter doesn't see enough of Elizabeth as it is; Neal doesn't want to come between them any more than he already has.
The subway is noisy, smelly, and often overcrowded. The crush of riders at rush hour is tempting as hell for a talented pickpocket, but too risky for a convicted felon on work release with the FBI. Before prison, Neal had never been claustrophobic - in fact, he used to enjoy being surrounded by people. Now he really values fresh air and personal space, both of which are scarce in the tunnels under Manhattan.
Still, the subway does have some positive associations for Neal.
Two.
Back when he and Mozzie were near the bottom of the food chain, committing crimes just to get by, they used to ride around for a whole day on the $4 Fun Pass. They'd go down to Wall Street, maybe pick a pocket or two, then pick up some lunch before hopping on an uptown train and eating in Central Park.
They went all over the subway network on those $4 days, taking turns to pick their destination. Moz, a born and bred New Yorker, had a soft spot for Coney Island. Even though its allure had faded greatly since his childhood, the boardwalk was still a nice place to visit when it was sunny out.
Moz could also spend hours at the Public Library, educating himself about esoteric subjects and debating literature with the librarians. Meanwhile, Neal worked his way through the excellent art and antiquities sections before starting to learn about financial systems. He was hugely ambitious, in those early days, but still hyper-aware of his own ignorance.
***
Neal had been brought up in a small rural town by conservative, poorly-educated parents. Life had been dull and stationary - his family never traveled far, and as a kid he rarely met outsiders from anywhere more exotic than the next state over. After he escaped to New York in his early 20s, Neal found he loved many things about the place: its architectural landscape, its cultural riches, its culinary offerings, and the way it positively pulsed with activity.
But he especially appreciated the opportunities it offered for people-watching, which he practiced both as entertainment and as education (you could pick up a lot about body language by interpreting others' interactions from a distance). So he'd go to places that were swarming with a diverse range of people. Manhattan's top tourist spots were always interesting, but Neal also visited neighborhood markets and parks in the outer boroughs. Sometimes he'd strike up conversations with strangers...other times, he'd just observe.
Transit hubs were especially fertile ground for a student of human behavior. Grand Central Station was the most atmospheric, with its magnificent vaulted ceiling, but Penn Station offered the greatest variety. It was like a free show where the cast was constantly changing.
Travelers staggered off long-distance trains, wearing a wide array of costumes and facial expressions. Some couples were joyfully reunited; others held animated arguments. Stressed-out parents shepherded their kids through the crowds, hurrying to make a train. Old ladies clutching Bloomingdale's bags shuffled along slowly, as if they had nothing left but time.
Neal could sit for hours, a silent spectator with sketchbook in hand, while Mozzie read beside him (and occasionally relieved his boredom by relieving rich men of their wallets).
On Wednesdays, they sometimes headed up to the Bronx Zoo and got in for a $1 donation. Moz loved the tigers - "they're inscrutable and they don't take shit from anyone" - whereas Neal preferred the sleek, clever otters. The two of them would wander around the huge, beautifully landscaped site, embellishing the tales of their previous exploits and planning grandiose future cons. Then they'd get back on the train and return to the city, already discussing their next transit adventure.
Three.
Neal still thinks fondly about those long-ago days with Moz. But his favorite subway memories are much more...intimate.
He'd actually met Kate on a subway train, nearly 10 years ago now. Just 18 years old, she was fresh out of high school and living with her recently-widowed mother in Brooklyn. She used to take the F train to her waitressing job near Broadway. Neal was 22, still quite new to New York, and barely able to afford the Alphabet City rat-hole he shared with 5 random guys. He'd catch the F train anytime he wanted to head uptown.
Neal had seen Kate on a couple of occasions - noticing her long dark hair and stunning blue eyes - and smiled at her when she looked his way. He'd been trying to work on his flirtation at the time, honing it until the facial expressions and body language became an automatic response. Charm seemed like a necessary prerequisite for a career as a conman, and Neal had been desperate to graduate from petty theft and low-end forgery.
The first time their eyes met, Kate quickly looked away and didn't glance in his direction for the rest of the trip. The second time, she held his gaze, arched one eyebrow, and gave him a smile in return. There was something in that challenging reaction that really caught his attention, and took his interest in this beautiful girl way beyond mere practice. Unfortunately, she'd then left the train at the very next stop.
The third time their paths crossed, it was early evening on a northbound F train. She was dressed in her work uniform, a crisp white shirt and knee-length black skirt, and Neal's eye was immediately drawn to her as he entered the subway car. He hurried over to claim the miraculously vacant seat beside her.
"Hi, I'm Neal," he said. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."
"Kate," she responded, looking as if she was trying not to laugh at his old-fashioned manners. He let the jolting of the train shift his body closer to hers, and let his smile reach his eyes.
***
Sex with Kate was incredible, better than he could ever have imagined, but their opportunities turned out to be very limited.
Mrs. Moreau had traditional values and was protective of her only daughter, especially where charming older guys with dubious prospects were concerned. So she wouldn't let Neal stay over at their small two-bedroom place. Although Kate was frustrated by her mom's restrictions, she couldn't afford to move out yet.
Kate sometimes spent the night at Neal's apartment, but that wasn't ideal either: he only had a single bed in his tiny room, the walls were paper-thin, and he hated the harassment they got from his asshole roommates.
So Neal and Kate had to take advantage of every moment they got to themselves...even if they weren't exactly alone.
When it came to sex, Kate knew precisely what she wanted. She had a thing for public intimacy, and Neal wasn't averse to it, so they'd entwine their limbs and make out whenever they found adjacent seats on the subway. If there was only one free seat, he'd sit and Kate would perch on his lap. If the train was crowded and they had to stand, she'd cling to a support pole and he'd wrap himself around her. Still, he tried to keep things PG-rated, especially if there were kids present.
Kate's place was in south Brooklyn, close to the end of the F line, and there were few riders left by the time the train reached her neighborhood. That was especially the case after midnight, when Kate usually finished work. Neal would often meet her at the restaurant and take the subway with her, then cross to the other platform and return to the city. Luckily, the station was set up so he could do this without having to pay another fare. When you lived in an expensive city and had an unreliable income stream, every penny counted.
If nobody else was left in their subway car and they had a decent stretch of time before reaching Kate's stop, things often escalated from PG to R. Kate would hike her skirt up and straddle Neal, holding his face between her hands and kissing him fiercely. He would cup her breasts through her shirt, rubbing his thumbs across her nipples, as she ground her clit against his cock.
Sometimes, they'd both come in their underwear. Other times, Kate would kiss him goodbye with a saucy wink. Neal would have to ride back to Manhattan alone, hiding his persistent erection by placing his hat on his lap.
But due to the risk of injury from the train suddenly jolting or stopping, they didn't actually fuck on the subway.
...except once.
Four.
It was nearly 1am, on a Tuesday morning in May, when their train halted on an elevated section of track in Brooklyn. The driver announced that the train in front had developed a fault and that they'd be stuck there, between stations, for at least 15 minutes. Neal and Kate had the train's last car to themselves, and they couldn't see anyone in the next car either.
A grim-faced older woman had been seated opposite them until the previous stop, so the two of them were just holding hands rather than fooling around. Kate was uncharacteristically subdued that night, anyway. A guy in her section had been obnoxiously rude to her - like it was Kate's fault that his roast chicken was overcooked - and had left without tipping. The restaurant's AC had also been playing up, making the air too cold for comfort.
Kate perked up, though, when news of the delay came over the train's PA. She turned to Neal, smiling wickedly, and kissed him. They made out for a while, until she climbed onto his lap. As he watched, she unbuttoned her shirt to reveal her white lacy bra, then unsnapped the front fastening to free her gorgeous breasts. He made an appreciative sound before bending his head to her.
They'd been together for months, by then, so Neal had a pretty good idea of how to please her. He started by licking around her nipple, before taking it into his mouth. He sucked hard, making her moan with pained pleasure; Kate liked it rough. He laid a trail of kisses across to her other breast, where the nipple was even more sensitive, and upped the ante by using his teeth.
He left his hands on her breasts, stroking and squeezing, as he kissed his way up her neck and whispered in her ear.
"I want to lick you, Kate. I want you to come, and I want you to scream."
Kate inhaled sharply. "Yes, Neal - please," she said, and immediately shifted off him. They both stood up, Kate hiking up her shirt and shimmying out of her black cotton panties but leaving her thigh-high stockings and black heels on. Neal unbuttoned his fly to give his aching erection a little relief. He'd never been an exhibitionist, never done anything like this, but it was turning him on more than he'd expected.
Neal knelt on the floor, and Kate sat down in front of him; he grasped her hips and pulled her forward, so she was on the edge of the seat with her skirt pushed up around her thighs.
Knowing they didn't have long, Neal didn't tease her. She was so turned on already, so wet for him, and he loved the way she tasted. He went straight to work, licking long strokes from her opening to her clit. Closing his eyes and concentrating on the task, he used his tongue and lips like he'd use brushes on a canvas: firm pressure in one area, a light delicate touch elsewhere.
Kate was gasping and moaning loudly, close to coming after just a few minutes. She could orgasm pretty easily anyway, but the added thrill of public sex seemed to be heightening her excitement. She had her hands on his head, pulling his hair a little to shift his attention and clenching her fists when he got it just right, but Neal didn't mind the pain.
He liked it rough, too.
Neal stretched up to reach Kate's breasts, knowing that the extra stimulation was often enough to push her over the edge. Twisting and tugging both her nipples between his fingertips, he rapidly flicked his tongue across her clit from side to side, just the way she liked it. Her whole body shook as she came, and her exultant shout echoed around the empty car.
***
He wanted to take his time, and make Kate climax over and over with his mouth or fingers. But the clock was against them tonight. So he kissed her clit once more, eliciting another soft cry, and moved back to take in the whole picture.
Under the train's harsh neon lights, Kate looked debauched - shirt hanging open, nipples hard and reddened, pale face flushed pink, and moisture glistening between her thighs. Neal fixed the image in his mind. Even if she never let him draw or paint this scene, at least it'd provide him with excellent masturbation material for years to come.
Kate grabbed him by the shoulders and kissed him, open-mouthed and messy, licking her own taste from his tongue.
"Fuck me," she breathed, standing and pulling Neal up with her. "Up against that wall, next to the doors, right now."
Neal kissed her quickly, by way of an answer, then fumbled in his wallet for a condom. She freed his cock from his underwear and rolled the condom down, while he clung to her and bit the inside of his cheek to maintain control.
Kate took three steps and then turned around, leaning against the wall of the train. She grabbed a support pole with one hand, and lifted up the hem of her skirt with the other. Arching her back, making her bare breasts look even more spectacular, she arched an eyebrow at Neal.
Neal immediately pressed his body against hers, loving the sexy confidence that had drawn him to Kate in the first place. Her breath hitched as he guided his cock inside her, and then released with a long sigh as he slid home.
For a second, Neal just rested his forehead against Kate's and breathed with her. He could never get over how good sex felt, so much better than he'd have guessed from the blue movies he'd watched as a teenager. Porn showed you the mechanics, but not the sensations.
Neal wrapped one hand around the steel pole to his left, anchoring himself in case the train restarted unexpectedly, and held onto Kate's hip with the other. Then he began to fuck her, with Kate pushing forward and meeting each thrust. He was glad that she stood quite tall, in her heels; this would be tricky if she were a lot shorter than him.
Kate reached behind Neal, tugging his t-shirt up and sliding her hand inside his jeans. She cupped his ass to pull him even closer to her, licking and nipping at his neck, and Jesus Christ, this was the hottest thing that had ever happened to him.
To stave off his orgasm a little longer, Neal glanced out through the large glass panel in the door. He realized with a shock just how close they were to the apartment buildings lining the subway track. The train car was brightly-lit, and he and Kate would be clearly visible to anyone gazing out from a darkened window.
"There might be people looking at us, watching as I fuck you," he said disjointedly, panting with exertion as he thrust harder. "You like that, Kate? Giving all those voyeurs a free show?"
Kate shivered all over. "Oh God, yes...fuck." She tilted her head up to kiss him again, frantic and uncoordinated and so incredibly hot. Shifting her hand from inside his pants to under his shirt, she clung on tight. Her fingernails left five bright points of pain, which Neal felt like jolts of electricity arcing from his back to his cock.
She was constantly making little desperate noises, now, and Neal could tell that another orgasm was building. He shifted his hand from her hip to her chest. Their bodies were so closely pressed together that he could only cup the outside curve of her breast. He stroked the soft skin in time with each thrust, and then started to use his fingernails.
As he raked his nails over her sensitive breast, he adjusted the angle of his hips to maximize contact with her G-spot. Her body shuddered against his; she dug her nails into his back and bit down on his lip as she came again. He finally let himself go, then, and moaned into her mouth as a wave of intense pleasure washed over him.
***
When Neal opened his eyes again, he was almost surprised that they were still standing. He was slumped against Kate, cheek to cheek, as they breathed heavily in unison. He leaned back and grinned at her, and her answering smile was tired but brilliant.
He pulled out, wrapping the condom in an unused Kleenex from his pocket, and Kate put her underwear back on. They sat down, still short of breath, just in time: the train suddenly jolted and began moving again.
"Sorry for the delay, folks," a disembodied male voice said over the PA. "Hope you found some way to entertain yourselves."
Neal felt self-conscious for a moment (shit, did the driver know what they'd done?) before remembering that there were no cameras in subway cars. But Kate just laughed, bright and uninhibited, as she refastened her bra and buttoned up her shirt.
Five minutes later, the train reached her stop at last. Neal and Kate walked along the platform hand in hand, properly clothed and outwardly respectable. Nobody who saw them knew that Kate's panties were soaked with her own sharp-sweet juices. Nobody knew about the deep crescent-shaped marks on Neal's back, or the parallel red lines scored across Kate's breast.
It was their secret...shared only with the strangers who'd watched them from the darkness.
***
Title: Take the F Train.
Pairing: Neal/Kate.
Rating: NC-17 for explicit M/F sexual content.
Warnings / Enticements: public sex and exhibitionism.
Spoilers: none - it's almost entirely set many years pre-canon. This story disregards Season 2's revelations about Neal's background and how he met Kate.
Word Count: 3,100 words.
Summary: some of Neal's favorite memories of Kate involve subway trains.
Author's notes: sincere thanks to my fabulous beta cactus_cat, who read this over (twice!) despite not knowing the fandom.
This story was written for the lovely elrhiarhodan, who is celebrating her one-year anniversary in White Collar fandom.
***
One.
When Neal is off the clock, the subway is his main means of transportation. He lives too far uptown to walk most places he needs to go, cabs are expensive, and the buses often get hopelessly snarled in traffic. Peter usually gives him a ride to and from work, but Neal can hardly expect the guy to do chauffeur duty in his spare time. Peter doesn't see enough of Elizabeth as it is; Neal doesn't want to come between them any more than he already has.
The subway is noisy, smelly, and often overcrowded. The crush of riders at rush hour is tempting as hell for a talented pickpocket, but too risky for a convicted felon on work release with the FBI. Before prison, Neal had never been claustrophobic - in fact, he used to enjoy being surrounded by people. Now he really values fresh air and personal space, both of which are scarce in the tunnels under Manhattan.
Still, the subway does have some positive associations for Neal.
Two.
Back when he and Mozzie were near the bottom of the food chain, committing crimes just to get by, they used to ride around for a whole day on the $4 Fun Pass. They'd go down to Wall Street, maybe pick a pocket or two, then pick up some lunch before hopping on an uptown train and eating in Central Park.
They went all over the subway network on those $4 days, taking turns to pick their destination. Moz, a born and bred New Yorker, had a soft spot for Coney Island. Even though its allure had faded greatly since his childhood, the boardwalk was still a nice place to visit when it was sunny out.
Moz could also spend hours at the Public Library, educating himself about esoteric subjects and debating literature with the librarians. Meanwhile, Neal worked his way through the excellent art and antiquities sections before starting to learn about financial systems. He was hugely ambitious, in those early days, but still hyper-aware of his own ignorance.
***
Neal had been brought up in a small rural town by conservative, poorly-educated parents. Life had been dull and stationary - his family never traveled far, and as a kid he rarely met outsiders from anywhere more exotic than the next state over. After he escaped to New York in his early 20s, Neal found he loved many things about the place: its architectural landscape, its cultural riches, its culinary offerings, and the way it positively pulsed with activity.
But he especially appreciated the opportunities it offered for people-watching, which he practiced both as entertainment and as education (you could pick up a lot about body language by interpreting others' interactions from a distance). So he'd go to places that were swarming with a diverse range of people. Manhattan's top tourist spots were always interesting, but Neal also visited neighborhood markets and parks in the outer boroughs. Sometimes he'd strike up conversations with strangers...other times, he'd just observe.
Transit hubs were especially fertile ground for a student of human behavior. Grand Central Station was the most atmospheric, with its magnificent vaulted ceiling, but Penn Station offered the greatest variety. It was like a free show where the cast was constantly changing.
Travelers staggered off long-distance trains, wearing a wide array of costumes and facial expressions. Some couples were joyfully reunited; others held animated arguments. Stressed-out parents shepherded their kids through the crowds, hurrying to make a train. Old ladies clutching Bloomingdale's bags shuffled along slowly, as if they had nothing left but time.
Neal could sit for hours, a silent spectator with sketchbook in hand, while Mozzie read beside him (and occasionally relieved his boredom by relieving rich men of their wallets).
On Wednesdays, they sometimes headed up to the Bronx Zoo and got in for a $1 donation. Moz loved the tigers - "they're inscrutable and they don't take shit from anyone" - whereas Neal preferred the sleek, clever otters. The two of them would wander around the huge, beautifully landscaped site, embellishing the tales of their previous exploits and planning grandiose future cons. Then they'd get back on the train and return to the city, already discussing their next transit adventure.
Three.
Neal still thinks fondly about those long-ago days with Moz. But his favorite subway memories are much more...intimate.
He'd actually met Kate on a subway train, nearly 10 years ago now. Just 18 years old, she was fresh out of high school and living with her recently-widowed mother in Brooklyn. She used to take the F train to her waitressing job near Broadway. Neal was 22, still quite new to New York, and barely able to afford the Alphabet City rat-hole he shared with 5 random guys. He'd catch the F train anytime he wanted to head uptown.
Neal had seen Kate on a couple of occasions - noticing her long dark hair and stunning blue eyes - and smiled at her when she looked his way. He'd been trying to work on his flirtation at the time, honing it until the facial expressions and body language became an automatic response. Charm seemed like a necessary prerequisite for a career as a conman, and Neal had been desperate to graduate from petty theft and low-end forgery.
The first time their eyes met, Kate quickly looked away and didn't glance in his direction for the rest of the trip. The second time, she held his gaze, arched one eyebrow, and gave him a smile in return. There was something in that challenging reaction that really caught his attention, and took his interest in this beautiful girl way beyond mere practice. Unfortunately, she'd then left the train at the very next stop.
The third time their paths crossed, it was early evening on a northbound F train. She was dressed in her work uniform, a crisp white shirt and knee-length black skirt, and Neal's eye was immediately drawn to her as he entered the subway car. He hurried over to claim the miraculously vacant seat beside her.
"Hi, I'm Neal," he said. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."
"Kate," she responded, looking as if she was trying not to laugh at his old-fashioned manners. He let the jolting of the train shift his body closer to hers, and let his smile reach his eyes.
***
Sex with Kate was incredible, better than he could ever have imagined, but their opportunities turned out to be very limited.
Mrs. Moreau had traditional values and was protective of her only daughter, especially where charming older guys with dubious prospects were concerned. So she wouldn't let Neal stay over at their small two-bedroom place. Although Kate was frustrated by her mom's restrictions, she couldn't afford to move out yet.
Kate sometimes spent the night at Neal's apartment, but that wasn't ideal either: he only had a single bed in his tiny room, the walls were paper-thin, and he hated the harassment they got from his asshole roommates.
So Neal and Kate had to take advantage of every moment they got to themselves...even if they weren't exactly alone.
When it came to sex, Kate knew precisely what she wanted. She had a thing for public intimacy, and Neal wasn't averse to it, so they'd entwine their limbs and make out whenever they found adjacent seats on the subway. If there was only one free seat, he'd sit and Kate would perch on his lap. If the train was crowded and they had to stand, she'd cling to a support pole and he'd wrap himself around her. Still, he tried to keep things PG-rated, especially if there were kids present.
Kate's place was in south Brooklyn, close to the end of the F line, and there were few riders left by the time the train reached her neighborhood. That was especially the case after midnight, when Kate usually finished work. Neal would often meet her at the restaurant and take the subway with her, then cross to the other platform and return to the city. Luckily, the station was set up so he could do this without having to pay another fare. When you lived in an expensive city and had an unreliable income stream, every penny counted.
If nobody else was left in their subway car and they had a decent stretch of time before reaching Kate's stop, things often escalated from PG to R. Kate would hike her skirt up and straddle Neal, holding his face between her hands and kissing him fiercely. He would cup her breasts through her shirt, rubbing his thumbs across her nipples, as she ground her clit against his cock.
Sometimes, they'd both come in their underwear. Other times, Kate would kiss him goodbye with a saucy wink. Neal would have to ride back to Manhattan alone, hiding his persistent erection by placing his hat on his lap.
But due to the risk of injury from the train suddenly jolting or stopping, they didn't actually fuck on the subway.
...except once.
Four.
It was nearly 1am, on a Tuesday morning in May, when their train halted on an elevated section of track in Brooklyn. The driver announced that the train in front had developed a fault and that they'd be stuck there, between stations, for at least 15 minutes. Neal and Kate had the train's last car to themselves, and they couldn't see anyone in the next car either.
A grim-faced older woman had been seated opposite them until the previous stop, so the two of them were just holding hands rather than fooling around. Kate was uncharacteristically subdued that night, anyway. A guy in her section had been obnoxiously rude to her - like it was Kate's fault that his roast chicken was overcooked - and had left without tipping. The restaurant's AC had also been playing up, making the air too cold for comfort.
Kate perked up, though, when news of the delay came over the train's PA. She turned to Neal, smiling wickedly, and kissed him. They made out for a while, until she climbed onto his lap. As he watched, she unbuttoned her shirt to reveal her white lacy bra, then unsnapped the front fastening to free her gorgeous breasts. He made an appreciative sound before bending his head to her.
They'd been together for months, by then, so Neal had a pretty good idea of how to please her. He started by licking around her nipple, before taking it into his mouth. He sucked hard, making her moan with pained pleasure; Kate liked it rough. He laid a trail of kisses across to her other breast, where the nipple was even more sensitive, and upped the ante by using his teeth.
He left his hands on her breasts, stroking and squeezing, as he kissed his way up her neck and whispered in her ear.
"I want to lick you, Kate. I want you to come, and I want you to scream."
Kate inhaled sharply. "Yes, Neal - please," she said, and immediately shifted off him. They both stood up, Kate hiking up her shirt and shimmying out of her black cotton panties but leaving her thigh-high stockings and black heels on. Neal unbuttoned his fly to give his aching erection a little relief. He'd never been an exhibitionist, never done anything like this, but it was turning him on more than he'd expected.
Neal knelt on the floor, and Kate sat down in front of him; he grasped her hips and pulled her forward, so she was on the edge of the seat with her skirt pushed up around her thighs.
Knowing they didn't have long, Neal didn't tease her. She was so turned on already, so wet for him, and he loved the way she tasted. He went straight to work, licking long strokes from her opening to her clit. Closing his eyes and concentrating on the task, he used his tongue and lips like he'd use brushes on a canvas: firm pressure in one area, a light delicate touch elsewhere.
Kate was gasping and moaning loudly, close to coming after just a few minutes. She could orgasm pretty easily anyway, but the added thrill of public sex seemed to be heightening her excitement. She had her hands on his head, pulling his hair a little to shift his attention and clenching her fists when he got it just right, but Neal didn't mind the pain.
He liked it rough, too.
Neal stretched up to reach Kate's breasts, knowing that the extra stimulation was often enough to push her over the edge. Twisting and tugging both her nipples between his fingertips, he rapidly flicked his tongue across her clit from side to side, just the way she liked it. Her whole body shook as she came, and her exultant shout echoed around the empty car.
***
He wanted to take his time, and make Kate climax over and over with his mouth or fingers. But the clock was against them tonight. So he kissed her clit once more, eliciting another soft cry, and moved back to take in the whole picture.
Under the train's harsh neon lights, Kate looked debauched - shirt hanging open, nipples hard and reddened, pale face flushed pink, and moisture glistening between her thighs. Neal fixed the image in his mind. Even if she never let him draw or paint this scene, at least it'd provide him with excellent masturbation material for years to come.
Kate grabbed him by the shoulders and kissed him, open-mouthed and messy, licking her own taste from his tongue.
"Fuck me," she breathed, standing and pulling Neal up with her. "Up against that wall, next to the doors, right now."
Neal kissed her quickly, by way of an answer, then fumbled in his wallet for a condom. She freed his cock from his underwear and rolled the condom down, while he clung to her and bit the inside of his cheek to maintain control.
Kate took three steps and then turned around, leaning against the wall of the train. She grabbed a support pole with one hand, and lifted up the hem of her skirt with the other. Arching her back, making her bare breasts look even more spectacular, she arched an eyebrow at Neal.
Neal immediately pressed his body against hers, loving the sexy confidence that had drawn him to Kate in the first place. Her breath hitched as he guided his cock inside her, and then released with a long sigh as he slid home.
For a second, Neal just rested his forehead against Kate's and breathed with her. He could never get over how good sex felt, so much better than he'd have guessed from the blue movies he'd watched as a teenager. Porn showed you the mechanics, but not the sensations.
Neal wrapped one hand around the steel pole to his left, anchoring himself in case the train restarted unexpectedly, and held onto Kate's hip with the other. Then he began to fuck her, with Kate pushing forward and meeting each thrust. He was glad that she stood quite tall, in her heels; this would be tricky if she were a lot shorter than him.
Kate reached behind Neal, tugging his t-shirt up and sliding her hand inside his jeans. She cupped his ass to pull him even closer to her, licking and nipping at his neck, and Jesus Christ, this was the hottest thing that had ever happened to him.
To stave off his orgasm a little longer, Neal glanced out through the large glass panel in the door. He realized with a shock just how close they were to the apartment buildings lining the subway track. The train car was brightly-lit, and he and Kate would be clearly visible to anyone gazing out from a darkened window.
"There might be people looking at us, watching as I fuck you," he said disjointedly, panting with exertion as he thrust harder. "You like that, Kate? Giving all those voyeurs a free show?"
Kate shivered all over. "Oh God, yes...fuck." She tilted her head up to kiss him again, frantic and uncoordinated and so incredibly hot. Shifting her hand from inside his pants to under his shirt, she clung on tight. Her fingernails left five bright points of pain, which Neal felt like jolts of electricity arcing from his back to his cock.
She was constantly making little desperate noises, now, and Neal could tell that another orgasm was building. He shifted his hand from her hip to her chest. Their bodies were so closely pressed together that he could only cup the outside curve of her breast. He stroked the soft skin in time with each thrust, and then started to use his fingernails.
As he raked his nails over her sensitive breast, he adjusted the angle of his hips to maximize contact with her G-spot. Her body shuddered against his; she dug her nails into his back and bit down on his lip as she came again. He finally let himself go, then, and moaned into her mouth as a wave of intense pleasure washed over him.
***
When Neal opened his eyes again, he was almost surprised that they were still standing. He was slumped against Kate, cheek to cheek, as they breathed heavily in unison. He leaned back and grinned at her, and her answering smile was tired but brilliant.
He pulled out, wrapping the condom in an unused Kleenex from his pocket, and Kate put her underwear back on. They sat down, still short of breath, just in time: the train suddenly jolted and began moving again.
"Sorry for the delay, folks," a disembodied male voice said over the PA. "Hope you found some way to entertain yourselves."
Neal felt self-conscious for a moment (shit, did the driver know what they'd done?) before remembering that there were no cameras in subway cars. But Kate just laughed, bright and uninhibited, as she refastened her bra and buttoned up her shirt.
Five minutes later, the train reached her stop at last. Neal and Kate walked along the platform hand in hand, properly clothed and outwardly respectable. Nobody who saw them knew that Kate's panties were soaked with her own sharp-sweet juices. Nobody knew about the deep crescent-shaped marks on Neal's back, or the parallel red lines scored across Kate's breast.
It was their secret...shared only with the strangers who'd watched them from the darkness.
***