夜行列车

“I can’t believe you’re on this train.”

Mara’s voice cut through the clatter of the wheels, and I looked up from my phone. There she was, two rows ahead, half-turned in her seat, a slow smile playing on her lips. Five years since we’d ended things, and she still had that way of making the air feel thicker.

“Believe it,” I said, sliding my phone away. “Work thing in Prague. You?”

“Visiting my sister.” She tilted her head. “You look good, Leo.”

“You look like you haven’t changed at all.”

She laughed, low and knowing. The compartment was nearly empty, just an old man snoring three seats back and the rhythmic sway of the carriage. I moved to sit across from her, the small table between us.

“So,” she said, tracing a finger along the edge of the table, “you ever think about that night?”

I didn’t have to ask which one. The night we broke the cheap hotel bed. The night we said we’d be friends and then fucked for three hours instead. “Every now and then.”

“Me too.” Her eyes dropped to my hands, then back up. “You still have that way of looking at me like you’re undressing me.”

“Because I am.”

She laughed again, but it was softer now, her tongue wetting her lower lip. The train lurched, and she grabbed the table, and somehow her hand ended up on mine. Warm. Familiar.

“Come here,” she whispered.

I slid into the seat beside her, the worn velvet pressing against my thighs. Her hand found my jaw, pulled me in, and her mouth was on mine — hungry, tasting of coffee and something sweet. I cupped the back of her neck, fingers threading through her dark hair, and she groaned into my mouth.

“God, I missed this,” she breathed against my lips.

“Missed you.”

Her hand slid down my chest, over my belt, and palmed me through my jeans. I was already half-hard, and she squeezed, a knowing smirk on her face. “Still big, I see.”

“Still a tease?”

“Only for you.”

I pulled her closer, my hand sliding under her sweater, finding the warm skin of her stomach. She arched into my touch, her breath hitching as I traced up to her bra, thumbing her nipple through the lace. She bit her lip.

“We can’t — someone might see,” she said, but her hips were already shifting toward me.

“The old man’s asleep.” I glanced back. “And the corridor’s empty.”

She looked at me for a long moment, then grabbed my hand and pulled me up. “Come on.”

The toilet compartment was tiny, all metal and fluorescent light, but she didn’t care. She locked the door, turned to face me, and pressed me against the cold wall. Her hands were already at my jeans, unbuckling, unzipping, sliding down.

“I’ve thought about this,” she said, wrapping her fingers around my cock, stroking me slow. “So many times. Thought about your dick inside me.”

“Fuck, Mara.”

她跪了下来，嘴巴又热又湿地包裹着我，深深吞入，舌头在下方灵活地挑弄。我抓住她的头发，不算用力，只是为了稳住自己，她含着我的同时发出呻吟，那震动让我的大腿一阵战栗。

“慢点，”我低声说，但她只是把我吞得更深，喉咙放松下来，抬头看我时眼里泛着泪光。

I pulled her up, spun her around, bent her over the tiny sink. Her skirt rode up, and I saw she wasn’t wearing panties. She was already wet, slick and glistening, and I ran a finger through her folds, making her gasp.

“You planned this?”

“Maybe,” she said, breathless. “Now stop talking and fuck me.”

I pushed inside her, slow, feeling her tight heat clench around me. She moaned, long and low, her hands gripping the sink’s edge. I set a rhythm, hard and steady, the metal walls rattling with each thrust.

“Yes,” she gasped. “Right there. Don’t stop.”

I leaned over her, my chest against her back, my mouth at her ear. “You like that? You like my cock inside you again?”

“Fuck, yes. Always. I never should have let you go.”

我更深地挺进，她的臀部拍打着我的胯部，我们身体碰撞的声音充满了狭小的空间。她的呻吟变成了哭喊，我用手捂住了她的嘴。

“Quiet,” I whispered. “Unless you want the whole train to hear.”

She nodded, her eyes wild, and I felt her clench around me, her orgasm rippling through her. That pushed me over the edge, and I came inside her, hot and deep, a groan tearing from my throat.

For a moment we just stayed there, panting, the train swaying beneath us. Then she laughed, a breathless, surprised sound.

“Wow,” she said, turning her head to look at me. “That was…”

“Better than Prague?”

“Much better.” She straightened, pulled her skirt down, and fixed her hair in the mirror. “We should do this more often.”

“We should,” I said, zipping up. “Maybe get a proper bed this time.”

She grinned, unlocking the door. “I know a place. But first…” She nodded toward the compartment. “The old man’s awake. And he’s staring.”

I looked out, and sure enough, the man was blinking at us, his newspaper forgotten in his lap. Mara laughed, and I couldn’t help but laugh too, the absurdity of it washing over us.

“Let him stare,” I said.

“Let him.” She took my hand. “Come on, Leo. Let’s find a proper compartment.”

CATEGORIES: [Dick, On the Train, Just the Two of Us]