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The train rattled as it shot along the rails leading home. Though it was getting dark, the car was stuffed full enough that the miserable weather outside was easy to forget. Squeeze so many bodies into such a small space and it's bound to be warm... the first few months of winter have been colder than the ones the year before, enough that Seiya actually saw fit to bring gloves along for the trip.
It was going to be a long commute back. There was a particular limited edition box set Minato had been wishing for since it was first announced half a year ago and it was a bit more than he could afford all by himself, prone to fits of fanciful penny candy whimsy as he was. So Seiya saved up for it. And nowhere seemed to have the stupid thing. Even after hours of going place to place to place, Seiya was returning home emptyhanded. The whole thing had been such a waste of time that Seiya couldn't say he was in the best of moods. Unforunately, his bad day was destined to get worse.
As the train jostles its passengers, the man behind him knocks against his legs. It's all uncomfortably close but there's nothing in particular he can do about it. Nowhere else in the car is any better. All he can do is grimace, so that's what he does. Every jostle or shake or unevenness of the tracks has a mysteriously similar effect from then on: the man behind him would brush against him each time.
Of course Seiya knew what he was doing. He'd never in his life imagined he'd have to worry about such a thing, but it was impossible not to have heard about train perverts. The dots were not hard to connect. But even though he was scandalized and shocked, it makes his heart race with a fearful yet anticipatory excitement. His ears flush pink as the man behind him gets brave and slips his hand into his back pocket, cupping the shape of his ass through the fabric and sending gooseflesh up his back. Just as his body reacts innocently, his temper pushes him to act.
Seiya snatches his wrist. He holds tight, not letting him loose, and turns gradually to face him. The man behind him, now in front of him, meets his victim's cold gaze and shrinks away timidly. It frustrates Seiya immediately. You have the nerve to grab my ass on a train but not to look at my face? It was absurd. It was stupid and it made him mad enough to open his mouth.
"What are you doing?" There is no reply. The man, middle aged with receeding hairline and the first traces of grey, silently looks at the floor. A jolt of disdain hits Seiya strong, running up his neck right to his head. He sucks in a quick breath and smiles sweetly but whispers harsh: "Did you lose your courage already?"
There's only the din of the crowd and the rattling of the train's wheels. Seiya grips his wrist with more force. "Are you stopping already? You're not going to finish what you started? What kind of man are you supposed to be?" And then he releases him. It's an explicit taunt both in its unmistakeability and its intent. The pathetic waste of a man in front of him wouldn't do anything and Seiya silently told him he knew that. There was no reason to be afraid of someone who shrunk back like a dog that's misbehaved.
But perhaps it was really less like scolding a dog and more like swinging at a beehive.
Seiya didn't turn away. Of course he didn't-- keeping his expression friendly while watching the man seethe was its own form of catharis. But because of that, the man could get a solid hold on his belt. Dragging Seiya closer was simple and keeping him in place was even simpler. Though it was surprising, Seiya's expression slipped for only a moment. This seemed to frustrate the man all the more and his already rough movements grew all the more violent.
He undid the button on Seiya's pants and shoved his hand down them, grabbing ahold of his dick through his boxer briefs. Seiya's reaction was impossible to stifle-- his eyes widen, his breath hitches audibly, and as the man strokes and squeezes him his dick twitches to life. Struggling didn't even occur to Seiya. Something like this happening to a boy seemed impossibly shameful. There was no way he'd draw attention to himself while this was happening. But it was undeniable that he was scared. He doesn't know what to expect from his first ever sexual experience and he doesn't know what to expect from this complete stranger.
Then he catches the grin on his face. The "got you" kind of predatory, assured, confident look that Seiya hates the most. It propels him forward on spiteful angry energy alone-- he steels himself and brings back his composure even though he's afraid. Even though he couldn't say that this was the wisest course of action. All because he's had a long awful day and this on top of the rest pisses him off just too badly.
"You're only touching my underwear, ojisan," he whispers lowly. "Are you scared to take it out? It does make sense. After all, what if someone sees you like this?" The man is slipping his hand down the front of his underwear almost the instant he says it. Seiya bites the inside of his cheek and prays his voice comes out steady as the cold air of the train hits his semi hard dick. "You're simple." He runs his hands along Seiya's swelling length, pulling down the foreskin with a firm stroke and withdrawing just a bit lighter. "You're wearing a wedding ring. Does your wife know her husband is the kind of freak who'd rather play with a schoolboy than a schoolgirl?"
He can see the older man getting hard himself. The hand encircling his own dick brings on a brain-numbing rush of pleasure with every stroke. He isn't thinking right. For that reason he brings his hand to his assailant's groin. The feeling of his erect adult penis straining against his pants into his hand makes him dizzy. And though he'd said it himself, Seiya is suddenly aware of how exposed they are. The person beside him just has to glance over. The people behind the old man could have a decent view just the way they are. He doesn't know for certain-- he just knows it doesn't make him want to stop. To the contrary it spurs him on all the more.
He shoves his hand down the front of his trousers, standing closeby as the man jerks him. "Fag." In his hand, Seiya feels him twitch. Did he like that? He wracks his addled brain for something else to latch onto. Even fully erect, this guy isn't much bigger than his four fingers. "... It's so small it's like a baby's. That's really nasty, you know?" He strokes him experimentally, feeling the middle aged man's cock throb against his gloved fingers with urgent need. He really is foul-- touching the man at all makes his skin crawl with repulsion. "There's no way you're satisfying your wife with this thing." Telling him how worthless he is makes his hand feel all the sweeter. "Do you have kids?"
Surprisingly, the man speaks his first words. His breathy, husky voice sends a jolt down Seiya's pelvis and a shiver of disgust up his spine. "I have a son."
"Does he take after his mother?" Seiya's low, scornful voice is teetering toward losing composure completely.
"Yes," the man whines, understanding where this is headed. "He looks nothing like me."
"You're pathetic," Seiya tells him, laughing lightly. "You're raising another man's child." The man groans softly, tugging Seiya's dick with a feverish enthusiasm. Seiya himself tries to match that pace-- his breath is coming in short hot puffs and it seems like he can hardly think. "Your marriage is a sham, your life is unfulfilling," he murmurs, voice quiet but indecent, drunk off the feeling of his first handjob. He feels a thrill in the way the man's face twists, raw with hurt but desperately aroused. He's hanging on his every word-- it wouldn't matter if he moaned. He's controlling this now. "I wouldn't want to live." The man's slick wet precum dampens the cotton of his gloves, and Seiya clamps his hand down on him a little less kindly. "Tying a noose is just way less effort for a life that's so hopeless."
"Yeah," he whispers hoarsely back.
"What are you gonna do when you get home?" Seiya feels himself gravitate closer despite himself. The smell of this guy isn't even offensive but his cologne seems nauseating in this moment. "You're going to curl into a little ball and cry your eyes out, right? You're going to lay there thinking about this," Seiya breathes deep, shuddering as the slick sound of the man's hand over his dick reaches his ears. No doubt the others in the car can hear it too. "With tears and snot down your face." He's the kind of waste left behind from someone who's already served their purpose. Seiya scarcely sees the man in front of him as human. It scares him a little. But it deepens his intoxication as well. Turning his face, Seiya speaks quietly into his ear. "And you're going to wring yourself completely dry. Aren't you?"
With a few violent twitches, the man cums in his pants without even having his dick taken out. It's vulgar and dirty and disgusting and just the last little push Seiya needs for his own finish-- he clamps his eyes shut and breathes ragged and leans his forehead against the man's shoulder as he cums silently just after him, his first ever milking splattering down the front of the middle aged man's black coat.
The two of them stand there a long moment, quietly catching their breath. The speaker announces that they'll soon come to a station and Seiya wonders how lucky that has to be-- now that the veneer of explosive hormones has quickly faded away, he wants out of here. He puts himself away and pauses a moment as the train pulls in. Saying nothing more, he takes off his soiled glove and sticks it to his coat cum side down. Just like that, Seiya gets off the car at his stop.