"Now departing Fujisawa Station. Next stop: Ofuna."
The automated announcent echoed in the subway station. You gritted your teeth, forcing your legs to pump harder against the concrete of the platform, your unbuttoned blazer flapping like a broken wing behind you. The chi was already sounding. That familiar three-note lody that signaled that the doors were about to seal.
"Dammiiittt!"
With a vocal shout, you twisted your body sideways, slipping through the gap before the train doors sealed shut with a soft hiss.
You stumbled into the train cart, catching yourself on a tal pole, chest heaving. A few glances were thrown your way but for the most part, no one gave you a second look. You weren't the first person to run for a train and you certainly wouldn't be the last. You wiped a sheen of sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand.
It was your own fault, really. It wasn't as if you had been busy doing anything important after school. You just hadn't wanted to go ho. You'd spent the last two hours smoking behind the gym and napping in the audio-visual room, ignoring the vibration of your phone which resulted in you nearly missing your train.
"Phew."
You straightened up, shaking out your damp hair, and that's when you saw her. She was standing three feet away, holding a strap with delicate, manicured fingers. You recognized her imdiately because, well, of course you did. Anyone at school would have. Alisa Mikhailovna Kujou. Treasurer for the Student Council and an undeniable beauty at the academy. Not to ntion infamously standoff-ish.
At least to people like you.
She looked immaculate, as always. Her uniform was firmly pressed – a stark contrast to your own ss – the ribbon at her throat perfectly symtrical. Under the light of the train car, her silver hair was unmistakable. Surprisingly, she was one of the few in the train who took notice of your grand entrance. Alisa was staring at you – or rather, she was staring at your loosened tie and the untucked shirt with the kind of disdain usually reserved for lesser beings.
"Oh, hey, Kujou. Didn't see you there," you said, flashing a crooked grin.
Alisa stared at you, a hint of annoyance etching across her features at your casual use of her last na. Her cool blue eyes stared at you for a mont longer before looking away. "You're late. And you sll like nthol cigarettes."
"It's cologne, actually," you lied easily. "You heading ho? Thought you lived in a castle or sothing."
"I am commuting. Please do not speak to . People might think we're friends."
"Cold…"
Well, she's called Princess Alya for a reason, I guess.
You moved to stand next to the door, leaning your back against the glass. The train swayed, tal screeching against tal. For a few minutes, there was a comfortable distance. You pulled out your phone, scrolling aimlessly, ignoring her presence just as hard as she was ignoring yours.
After a bit of ti passed, the train began to slow for its next stop. You briefly looked up from your phone, already preparing for the wave that you knew was coming. It was a busy station, and the downside of leaving school late ant you'd inevitably run into people getting out of work. Sure enough, when the doors opened, a wall of humanity flooded in. Salarin in grey suits, students from rival schools, exhausted shoppers, and everything in between. The space in the car evaporated in seconds.
"Watch it," you snapped.
You tried to hold your ground against the glass, but it was pointless. A heavyset man with a briefcase shoved backward, forcing you to shift your stance.
"Excuse ," soone grunted.
You were pushed forward while Alya was pushed backward. With nowhere to go you ended up boxed in, trapping her between your body and the row of seats behind her, but she refused to sit. Instead, she stood her ground, clutching the handrail. As the crowd surged again, the gap between the two of you closed completely. Your chest collided with hers, though it wasn't exactly chest-to-chest. You felt the buttons of her blazer digging into your shirt. You felt the warmth of her breath against your collarbone. She was tall for a girl, but you still had the height advantage, looming over her. Her hands ca up to rest flat against your chest, creating a barrier. Her palms were small, but she pushed with surprising strength.
"Watch it," she snapped in Japanese, "Back up. You're crowding ."
"Would if I could," you replied, looking over her head at the sea of black hair and suits. "I'm pinned, Prez. Unless you want to climb onto the luggage rack, this is it."
"I'm not the President!"
It was honestly impressive how Alisa managed to hold onto semantics at tis like this. Her face was flushed, likely from the sudden heat of the car and the indignation of being touched by the school delinquent. Being this close to her you could actually pick up a bit of her perfu. You felt her knee knock against the inside of your thigh. She flinched, trying to pull her leg back, but your legs were tangled then, your feet bracketed by hers.
"Unbelievable. Of all the people to be stuck with..."
You felt a perverse thrill at her muttered discomfort. Despite her pristine image, in this situation, you were both stuck on the sa level. You turned your head, staring out the dark window behind you to give her a shred of privacy, watching your own reflection.
"Just ignore it. Close your eyes or sothing."
Alya didn't give you a response. The train doors slid closed, sealing you in as it began to depart. It steadily picked up speed, the cart rocking rhythmically back and forth. With every sway, your thigh unintentionally slid against hers. The soft fabric of her skirt offered zero resistance to the motion. You were doing your best to think nothing of it but that was when you heard it. It was barely a whisper, too low for anyone else to catch over the rumble of the tracks. The tone was entirely different. It wasn't the sharp, commanding clip of a mber of the student council. This voice was breathy, lower, almost whimpering.
"" she whimpered in Russian, her eyes losing focus, glazing over. "" she mumbled to herself.
The train continued to rattle over the tracks as it headed for its next destination. It was the perfect cover. You kept your expression bored, eyes half-lidded as if you're about to fall asleep standing up, but below the waist, you were completely locked in. With every jolt that shook the cart, you pressed your thigh upward against the apex between her thighs. After only a few jostles you could feel the shift start to happen. The dampness seeped through her panties and started to stain your pants. Alya's body stiffened against you, her nails digging into your shirt. Had she realized it as well?
"S-stop fidgeting."
The command lacked the initial bite she had addressed you with. Instead, her voice had co out breathy, almost whining when she spoke.
You decided not to give her a response, instead looking out the window as if there was sothing on your mind. Let her think you were completely unaware of what you were doing to her. That any intentionality on your part was rely a fignt of her own interpretation. Even as you rocked your thigh against her rapidly soaking core.
She really must have nothing else under there. Just a pair of frilly panties. No shorts or anything!
Alya shuddered, her head dropping forward, her silver hair falling to conceal her face. To anyone else, it might look like she was exhausted after a long day. But you could feel the way her pelvis tilted, instinctively chasing the pressure of your thigh.
""
Her Russian dissolved into incoherence. Just fractured syllables and desperate breaths as she rode out her orgasm against your hand. You worked her through it, continuing the squelch of your fingers as the aftershocks rippled through her.
At the sa ti, the wheels of the train began to screech to a halt. The crowd began to shift and surge in preparation, ignorant of what had just taken place between Alisa and yourself. The doors slid open with a cheerful chi.
'Totsuka Station. Please watch your step when exiting.'
Passengers began to shuffle, so moving toward the doors, others repositioning for more space. You slowly withdrew your fingers from her still-twitching sex. Alya made a small, whining sound at the loss.
You glanced down at your hand, fingers glistening, coated with evidence of what you'd done, and made a decision. Casually, without breaking eye contact with her dazed expression, you wiped them on the inside hem of her skirt. The crude action seed to snap Alya out of her daze. She jolted back, her blue eyes wide with realization as she looked up at you, reality crashing in on her.
"You…! Move!"
Her hands shoved against your chest, quickly moving to fix her skirt as she re-secured her bag on her shoulder. Alya practically ran out of the train before the doors could begin to close. You could only chuckle as you watched her silver hair retreating on the platform, looking down at your fingers that still glistened slightly and your aching erection.
"Jeez, a thank you would've been nice."
For the first ti in your life, you found yourself looking forward to the next day at school.
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