Midnight Express

The train lurched through the darkness, and Lena's shoulder brushed against mine for the third time in ten minutes. She didn't pull away.

"Sorry," she whispered, though her eyes said something else entirely.

I'd been her trainer for six months at FitZone. Twenty-eight, a marathon runner, those legs that went on forever in yoga pants. Tonight she wore a thin cashmere sweater and jeans that hugged every curve I'd watched her build in the gym.

"Can't sleep?" I asked.

"Not with you sitting here." She laughed softly, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear. "That sounds desperate. Ignore me."

"I don't want to ignore you."

The compartment was dim, just the blue night-light above the door. We'd ended up alone when the other passenger missed the connection in Krakow. Outside, pine forests blurred past under a cold moon.

Lena shifted closer. Her knee pressed against mine. "You know I've thought about this, right?"

"Thought about what?"

"Don't make me say it." Her voice dropped. "In the gym. When you spot me on the bench press. Your hands so close to my chest. The way you count reps in that low voice."

My throat went dry. "Lena..."

"I'm not drunk. I'm not confused. I just—" She bit her lip. "I want you to touch me. For real."

The train swayed. I reached out, my fingers finding her jaw, tilting her face up. She exhaled sharply, her lips parting.

Then we were kissing.

Not gentle. Not tentative. Her mouth opened under mine, hot and hungry, her hand fisting in my shirt. I pulled her closer, feeling her breasts press against my chest, her thighs shifting apart.

"Fuck," she breathed against my lips. "I've wanted that for months."

"Me too."

Her hands slid under my shirt, nails dragging down my back. I groaned into her mouth and pushed her back against the seat. The leather creaked. She pulled me on top of her, her legs wrapping around my waist.

"Wait," I said, forcing myself to stop. "Are you sure?"

"Alex." She looked up at me, pupils blown wide. "I've been sure since the day you made me do burpees until I couldn't stand. Now shut up and fuck me."

That was all I needed.

I yanked her sweater over her head. No bra. Her breasts were perfect — round, firm, nipples already hard. I lowered my mouth to one, and she arched her back, gasping.

"Yes. Oh god, yes."

I sucked her nipple, flicking my tongue over it while my hand found the button of her jeans. She lifted her hips, helping me push them down. Her panties were black lace, already damp in the center.

"Look at you," I murmured against her skin. "So wet for me."

"Because I'm so fucking turned on." She grabbed my belt, fumbling with the buckle. "Take these off. Now."

I stood just long enough to drop my jeans and boxers. My cock was hard, aching. She spread her legs wider, her hand reaching down to guide me.

"Slow," she whispered. "I want to feel every inch."

I pushed inside her.

She was tight, hot, slick. Her mouth fell open, a low moan escaping as I filled her. I held still, letting her adjust, watching her face — eyes closed, lips parted, cheeks flushed.

"Move," she said. "Please."

I did.

Slow at first, deep, grinding against her clit with every thrust. Her nails dug into my shoulders. The train rocked us, adding a rhythm of its own. She wrapped her legs tighter around me, pulling me deeper.

"Harder," she demanded. "I can take it."

I gave her harder.

The compartment filled with the sound of our bodies slapping together, her moans, my grunts. I buried my face in her neck, tasting salt and her perfume. She was close — I could feel her tightening around me.

"Come for me," I said in her ear. "I want to feel you come on my cock."

That did it.

She cried out, her body convulsing, her nails raking down my back. The sensation pushed me over the edge. I came inside her, groaning her name, pumping until I was empty.

We stayed like that for a long moment, breathing hard, tangled together.

Then she laughed, a soft, breathless sound. "Well. That's one way to pass the time."

I kissed her forehead. "We've got six more hours."

She grinned up at me, wicked and satisfied. "Good."

---

Morning light filtered through the window. The train was slowing, the outskirts of Warsaw sliding past. Lena was curled against my side, her head on my shoulder, her hand resting on my chest.

"Hey," I said.

"Mm?"

"Last stop."

She sat up slowly, stretching. The sweater was back on, but her hair was a mess, and there was a red mark on her neck.

"I have a confession," she said.

"What?"

"I booked this compartment on purpose. Found out you were taking this train and changed my reservation."

I stared at her. "You're kidding."

"Nope." She grinned. "I'm a planner."

I pulled her in for one last kiss, slow and deep. When we broke apart, the train had stopped.

"So," she said, standing up and grabbing her bag. "Same time next week? Or do I need to find another reason to get you alone?"

"I'm sure we'll think of something."

She winked and stepped off the train. I watched her walk away, the sway of her hips, and knew I'd never look at the squat rack the same way again.