Work Text:
Seth finds himself in a good mood as he waits for the next train to arrive, humming a nondescript tune quietly to himself. He's got the night shift patrolling a neighboring area, something that's recently been implemented to boost the morale of the citizens and promote an honest public image (to the chagrin of many Special Force officers), but he genuinely doesn't mind the commute, nor the terrible work hours. Sure, volunteer work can be thankless at times, and there's some nights where the assigned officer to be working with him doesn't even show up (tonight may be one of those nights, based on the fact that his shift partner is already half an hour late), but it's not all that bad! The only acknowledgment he really needs anyway is that from his team, that they see him improving by the day.
The week itself wasn't horrible, either. He got all his assignments filed away, handovers neatly sorted and forms in triplicate, got praised for completing a precinct drill in record time. He was even able to keep his tulips alive for longer this week, a feat worth celebrating, as they can be the most finicky of his assortment of plants to maintain.
Mostly though, he thinks that a solid chunk of his good mood comes from the fact that he just recently vacated the dorms and ended up living with Jane Doe: one of PubSec's criminal behavior specialists and informant, notorious foodie and master of deceit, who happens to be also be his girlfriend.
His girlfriend, he thinks emphatically, so much so that he nearly misses the chime of the train approaching the station, only realizing once passengers start to line up where the doors will open.
It takes a little bit of maneuvering, if only because it's a weekend evening and people are leaving Lumina Square—giggling teenagers trying to make curfew and white-collar employees attempting to sober up after a bout of social drinking. There must've been an event of some sort, too, the car is nearly stuffed with people in odd wear, flashy costumes and exaggerated makeup.
Still, it doesn't bother him; he can stomach standing in the corner of the car for a bit until he reaches his stop. He doesn't typically use his phone when he's on active duty, not wanting to dissuade any concerned citizen from asking him for help if needed, so he hunkers down in the corner to think about his girlfriend happily.
They've only recently started going out, and with each day that passes, Seth's still astonished how seamlessly they fit into each other's lives. They share similar tastes in films and the same life values; he understands when she needs space to herself to recharge and she's always willing to try new experiences with him. It's just his luck that they're in sync career-wise as well, though the embarrassment in disclosing their relationship to their workplace is enough to fuel him for a while.
He wonders if they'll be able to catch one another at home (their home!) by the time he finishes his shift, or if Jane will be fast asleep when he does. Jane leads a more traditional work schedule when she's not actively undercover, while Seth has irregular hours thanks to his newly minted officer status. It doesn't stop him from cooking with the groceries she brings home or picking up around the house where he can; she's told him he doesn't need to “play housewife” (her exact words said with a teasing smile, which he's stammered in response to), but he's seen her instant ramen intake! He'll be damned if he continues to watch her consume that much salt and empty calories constantly! He can imagine her chuckling over him fussing over something as simple as the meals they take. Oh kitty, don't work yourself up over this.
Still, to come to her dozing off in bed, eating at the dinner table, watching a B-list thriller with detached interest, painting her nails by the balcony—everything's a new experience that he's grateful to have in his life, and he looks forward to experiencing many more with her.
He's so dreamily lost in his thoughts, he doesn't notice somebody standing behind him until the train slows to a stop and they get shoved against him. Seth barely catches sight of short brown bangs and thick rectangular frames when he turns to see who pushed against him before he gets shoved again as passengers behind the both of them squeeze through to exit the car.
“Sorry,” the person says, voice low and melodic, and Seth realizes it's a young male Thieren who was pushed against him, dark ears barely peeking out of his head. He must be one of the white-collar workers coming home from a social dinner, judging by the nondescript slacks and slightly disheveled formal button-up; in his left hand, he's carrying a leather briefcase, most likely filled with important documents.
“Ah— it's okay!” Seth says, shuffling minutely to the side to give the man more space. “Not your fault.”
He turns back to face the window as more passengers start piling in. When the train starts moving, he gets nudged again from behind. He thinks nothing of it, tries to keep his tail from lashing out irritably for space. He definitely jumps, however, when he feels his ass get groped, the pressure intense even through his thick uniform pants.
Is the man standing behind him... molesting him?! He's abashed, hand flitting down to grab at the other's and squeeze it harshly, but the other man moves with a startling fluidity, grabbing his wrist and pressing against a pressure point that painfully holds him still. “Not a good idea, officer,” the man says, voice slick to his ears even with the din of the train drowning him out. “If you don't hold still, I might find some easier targets instead...”
This despicable monster! His eyes dart to his walkie, still clipped to the front of his vest, but the stranger appears to see right through his intentions. “Don't try to call for help, either; I'll leave faster than you can catch me.”
Seth glares at the man's reflection in the window; the other catches his gaze and returns a bland smile. “I'll take it that you agree then.” In the next breath, the stranger slides a foot forward to kick Seth's legs wider apart, thigh nestled beneath his groin; the hand not threateningly gripping Seth's snakes beneath his top, groping his chest with unusual familiarity. His hand is cold against Seth's skin, making him shiver. He hadn't noticed when the stranger put down his briefcase.
Honestly, the fact that someone decided to feel him up in the train is more disgusting than anything else. He supposes he feels violated, but in the way that someone might feel scandalized with an animal humping their leg, something out of their control and momentarily occurring. In the end, he settles on the knowledge that the pervert is most likely trying to get a reaction out of him, and that if he makes himself boring enough, he'll give up and leave him alone. Then, once Seth gets off the train, he'll be able to revisit the camera footage for the car and get the lecher locked behind bars!
Which leads him back to the current scenario, in which he's stuck between a rock and a hard place (or rather, a stranger and the train window). Getting fondled up, as one is not wont to do. If he has to be subject to this, he'll just close his eyes—anything's better than grossing himself out watching the other man's hand roam beneath his ribbed top in the window reflection.
The stranger, however, doesn't appreciate his fortitude. Seth barely holds back a yowl when he gets roughly pinched on the nipple, pain on his chest white-hot and sparking through his veins. “Pay attention,” the man scolds lowly, then rubs his fingers over Seth's abused nipple after, as if in tender apology.
To his shame, Seth starts reacting, pants uncomfortably pressing against his crotch, and the man must see how twitchy he is because he lets go of his wrist to fondle him again, deft fingers teasing where the head of his cock sits beneath the fabric.
There's something about being unable to control his body that sends a new wave of revulsion through him. He hates the hot breath he feels against the nape of his neck, the way his body feels sensitized by the heightened danger of discovery. His good week, as well as his mood, is crumbling through his fingers like sand; he wishes he was at home, holding his girlfriend and trading quips back and forth over take-out, instead of being subject to sexual harassment.
“Aw, are you not enjoying yourself?” the man drawls, then sighs when Seth doesn't respond, withdrawing his hand from Seth's groin.
He wonders if the man has finally decided to give up and leave him alone. Instead, something slides up his leg, and he looks down, alarmed by the prospect of a second perpetrator. There's no third deviant hand from some other random passenger, but a gray tail that has started to wrap itself around him, tail prosthetic carefully aimed away from his flesh so as not to cut him. A tail prosthetic, actually, that he'd recognize anywhere—!
He looks up again at their reflections in the window, hope dawning in his chest. The man, Jane, smiles at him warmly. “Little kitty,” she says lowly, fondly, the way that she did that morning before they left for work together.
“Jane,” he breaths out, unable to stop himself from returning her smile. Now that he knows it's her, he can understand why he didn't recognize her earlier; she's standing a few inches taller than she normally would and matches his height exactly, even with the perfected slouch of a recent college graduate who knows they're about to die under the impossible expectations of upper management but unable to do anything about it. Her smell, too, is different: something musky and cheap versus the bright, minty smell of her bath products. It's clear she either just finished reconnaissance or was in the middle of a scope, inadvertently saw him get onto the train car, and then decided to mess around with him.
The prospect of what they're doing hits him again, and he feels his face grow hot. “Jane,” he repeats, this time through gritted teeth, a desperate plea for her to consider time and place for their activities.
“Yes, officer?” she asks innocently, like her fingers aren't circling his pec and sending shocks down his spine. There's a glint in her eyes that makes his stomach lurch.
“... Don't call me that,” he manages, because he always feels like she's lightly teasing him when she does, and their current situation plus the title makes him feel like she has a blade to his pulse point, ready to shed blood.
“Hmm~? Does it make you feel naughty when I do?” Her nails, acrylic-free, flick against the pert nub on his chest. “I didn't know you were so naughty, officer. Letting me molest you like this.” When she pinches him again, this time it feels good, makes him bite back a swear as he arches into the touch.
“Nn...” His mouth is so dry, it takes him a couple of tries to say, “No...” He can feel sweat start to pool at his lower back, in time with the thudding beat of his heart.
“No? But your nipples are feeling good. Look at you.” As if a specter to his own body, he watches her retract her hand slightly in the reflection of the window, sees how his nipples peak through the fabric of his top. “Aren't you showing off right now for everyone, officer? Look at how puffy you are, right out in the open. If anyone looked over here right now, they'd see how much you love it, how swollen you are.” She cups his pec, clicking her tongue like he's a misbehaving pet. “You're so needy, you're fucking the air.”
To his humiliation, he realizes he has been subtly rocking his hips, eager and straining for any sort of friction against his cock. It's bulging out enough that if anyone even glances over, they'll see just how aroused he is. He imagines the expressions of scandalized onlookers as they look on, watching him get lewdly touched and not doing anything to stop it. The mortification that comes from thinking about getting caught has his dick twitching against his pants, in time with his rapid heartbeat, and he barely bites back a miserable moan.
“That's right, keep quiet, or else we'll get caught...” Jane whispers in his ear, pressing her leg between his, knee sensually rubbing against his balls. He feels pinned by her words, unable to move a muscle despite the difference in their statures, too caught in her grip, her hands, her tail. “You're so pretty for me, getting all teary with your face all red. Anyone would be able to tell what we're doing right now...”
He's biting his lower lip to keep quiet, heart pounding, as she starts playing with his nipples again, this time using both hands to flick at them. There's zings running down his spine when she tugs at his nipples, plays with them like he's a girl. He never paid much attention to his chest before, never knew it could bring the amount of pleasure or feel as much sensation as it does now. When he plays with Jane's breasts, he normally just gropes them and sucks at them... is this how it feels for her...?
He's sure he's audibly panting now, open-mouthed, but unable to stop himself as she bunches the fabric of his top towards his sternum, exposing his nipples out to the open air. They're pink and hard, flushed and eager for more abuse.
“Oh, kitty,” Jane coos, pinching his nipple again, ramping up the ecstasy thrumming in his body. “Aren't your tits begging to be kissed? I bet you're so wet thinking about it. Thinking about all these people seeing you and wanting to play with you.”
She strokes his nipple, the way that she'd stroke a finger down the head of his cock. “But I know you wouldn't let them. I have your body all to myself, and you'll let me play with you until I'm satisfied. Such a good boy~”
The words strike him like a bolt of lightning. He thinks about her crawling on top of him, after taking his mouth, his cock, his fingers, his ass. Leaning down while making eye contact and making circles around his nipples with her tongue, taking one in her mouth with a pleasured hum, sucking on his—
He comes like that, untouched, eyes rolled back and his hips unintentionally canted back at a slight angle, desperately trying to hold back his moans and remain standing upright. His dick pulses in spurts, wetting the inside of his briefs as he does his best to maintain decorum despite his brain leaking out of his ears. Jane releases his clothing to tightly grip onto his hips with a light sigh, ruts against him in promise of what she'll do with her cock later. Deliriously, he thinks he already feels a firmness in her trousers, like she's wearing her cock out in public.
Still riding the high of his orgasm, he barely registers the announcement of his stop, his pants unbearably loud in his own ears. Passengers start swarming past them to exit the car, and Jane lets go of his hips once he's regained his balance. He blearily looks at her in the window as she presses close again to murmur in his ear, eyes glinting beneath the dim car lighting.
“See you at home, officer.”