Work Text:
Edwin stared out the back windows of the empty 21 line bus. Dark tree shapes whizzed past in blurs of black and blue. Stars blinked in the sky. Beneath him, the seats vibrated. He crossed his legs.
He hated the bus, but at least it was quiet.
He'd finally bought the earbuds Niko suggested, and they made the commute home almost bearable. Instead of car horns, he listened to Chopin. Instead of traffic, Tchaikovsky. Maybe, just this once, he could get home without losing his head over public transit.
The bus slowed to a stop. Edwin sank in his seat. It was past ten o'clock. He hadn't expected the bus to make any extra stops. Maybe the driver mistook a shadow for a pedestrian. If he was lucky, they'd roll on with Edwin as the only passenger.
The bus doors swung open. He sighed. So much for that. Another boy hopped on board, clad in his football kit. He had a sharp jaw, and strong nose. Brown hair curled at his temples. A star dangled from his ear, winking gold under the bus lights.
Don't look over here, Edwin thought. He didn't care if the boy was handsome. He wanted to be left alone. Don't look, don't look, don't look—
The boy glanced in his direction.
Fuck. Edwin sighed, again. Tonight wasn't his night.
The boy eyed him up and down, then looked toward the front of the bus. Edwin held his breath. Maybe he'd pick a seat up there, where it was empty. And quiet. And far away from him.
But, of course, no such luck. The boy bounded up the bus's back steps, and plopped into the seat beside him. He started to speak, but Edwin turned up his music. Most of his words disappeared under the strains of Mahler's Symphony No. 5.
The bus jolted forward. Edwin tried to focus on his music, but the boy wouldn't let up. Bits and pieces of his one-sided conversation snuck through Edwin's earbuds.
"—re —re —u —ded?"
"—ke —r —rt.
"—es. —our —ame?"
Finally, Edwin yanked out his earbuds. "What do you want?"
"Woah, there," the boy said. "Steady on, mate. I was just making conversation."
"On the bus, at half ten, with someone wearing earbuds? Have you no manners?"
"I have manners," the boy retorted. "Sort of seems like you don't, though. My name's Charles. What's yours?"
Edwin sighed and tucked his headphones into his pocket. There was no escaping this, it seemed. "My name is Edwin."
"And where're you headed, Edwin?"
"Home. I had a late rehearsal."
Charles raised his eyebrows. "Oh, yeah? What kind of rehearsal?"
"Community orchestra."
"Orchestra, huh? What do you play?"
"Violin, if you must know."
"I never said I must know," Charles teased, "but yeah, violin sounds about right. I bet you're aces, with fingers like that."
Edwin glanced at his hands. He did have quite long fingers, but it wasn't often someone noticed. Only other musicians did. And certain boys, sometimes.
But surely that wasn't the case here.
"And what about you, Charles?" he asked. "Where are you headed?"
Charles pinched the shoulder of his football kit. "Home, also. I just finished practice."
"Does your practice normally run this late?"
Charles shrugged. "Nah. It ran long 'cause my teammates are knobheads. They were messing about, and Coach made us run laps."
"And am I to believe you're not one of these knobheads?"
Charles grinned. "Oh, no. I am. I'm just better at not getting caught."
Edwin nodded, and cleared his throat. What was he supposed to talk about with an athlete? "Do you play a specific… location, then? On the field?"
"You mean position?" Charles laughed. "Yeah, I'm keeper. The only one on the field that uses my hands more than my feet."
"I suppose that means you're also quite good with your hands, then."
Charles's gaze went a bit dark. "I s'pose it does, yeah."
Before either of them could speak again, the bus went over a bump. Its metal frame squealed, and the wheel wells shuddered. Edwin winced.
"You alright?" Charles asked.
"The bus is a bit noisy, for my tastes," Edwin said. "Most days I bring a distraction. A book, or an orchestra score." He patted his pocket. "Today, I brought music."
"A distraction?" Charles crept closer, brushing Edwin's arm. "I've been told I can be pretty distracting."
"Yes, well. I'm afraid conversation doesn't always do the trick."
Charles smiled. Under the bus's flourescent lights, it looked a bit predatory. "Conversation isn't exactly what I had in mind, mate."
Edwin paused, taken off guard. A thrill ran from his head to his toes. Now that sounded like a proper distraction.
Deep down, part of him wondered if he should be more worried. He was in the back of the bus, alone, with a stranger, late at night. A scenario of nightmares, for most people. Himself included. Any other night he'd get off at the next stop, and order an Uber home.
But a larger part of him was intrigued. After all, Charles was good-looking, and seemed cordial enough. What was the worst that could happen? If Edwin wanted to leave, he could scream. Or run. Why not see what this stranger had in mind?
Charles scooted closer, pressing into Edwin's side. Edwin let him. Charles felt sturdy, like Edwin could fall asleep against him. And he smelled nice. He'd come from practice, so it was mostly sweat mixed with something else. Deodorant, maybe? Shampoo? Whatever it was, Edwin liked it. It reminded him of the beach.
Through the haze of musk and warmth, Edwin hadn't noticed Charles reaching for his lap. His hand settled on Edwin's thigh. Edwin jumped. He wasn't upset, or anything; just surprised. Charles's hand crept higher, and Edwin held his breath.
This couldn't be happening.
Could it?
The bus lurched, pushing Charles's hand up his thigh. His fingers brushed Edwin's crotch. Edwin groaned. Charles chuckled and leaned in. His lips brushed the shell of Edwin's ear, making him shiver.
"Wanna see what else these hands can do?"
Edwin glanced up. The front of the bus was still empty, and the seats in front of them had tall backs. The bus driver was far enough away that he couldn't see them. They were hidden. Mostly. He held Charles's gaze and nodded.
That was all the permission Charles needed. He nudged Edwin over a seat, so his side pressed against the bus's back window. His head and shoulders would be visible from the street, but everything below would be hidden. Charles reached for his trousers. He seemed so confident, it made Edwin dizzy.
"Have you done this before?" he asked.
Charles pulled at Edwin's trouser button. "Only with girls. You'd be my first bloke. That okay?"
Edwin heard his button pop open. Then, he felt his zipper give. A hand worked its way into his trousers, grazing his length. Edwin squirmed. A moan built behind his teeth. It was all happening so fast. He bit his lip to keep the noise in.
Charles laughed under his breath. "I'll take that as a yes."
He palmed Edwin's cock through his pants, slow, but deliberate. Tingles spread through Edwin's groin. He tried to stay still, but between Charles's hand and the bus seat's vibrations, he couldn't. He bucked his hips, desperate. Charles chuckled again.
"And I'll take that as a yes, please."
Edwin felt his face heat. Sex wasn't a new concept to him, but he wasn't exactly an expert, either. He'd had a few partners, a few boyfriends here and there, but they'd been… uninspired. Boring, really. After a while, he just assumed he wasn't interested in sex.
But Charles wasn't like them. He wasn't bumbling, or shy. He came across confident and calm, even on a public bus—and in Edwin's trousers, he worked quickly. He knew what he wanted, and he wasn't afraid to take it.
Maybe if Edwin's exes had been more like him, their relationships would've lasted longer.
Charles slipped his fingers into Edwin's pants, his touch teasing and light. Edwin glanced out the window to keep from gasping. Just beyond the glass, cars flashed their high beams. Night bikers rode by. Pedestrians watched from street corners. Anyone could catch them, at any time, but as Charles took his cock in hand, Edwin decided he didn't fucking care.
"Shhh," Charles said. Edwin swallowed a whine. He hadn't realized he was making noise. "I know it feels good, love. But we need to keep it down. Don't want ol' beardy up there to catch us, do we? We'd have to give him a turn just to keep him quiet."
Edwin glanced toward the front of the bus. Heat lanced through his groin. In the rear-view mirror, he could see the driver's reflection. Baseball cap, glasses. Big beard. Edwin imagined him pulling the bus over, and walking to the back. Telling Charles that he'd seen them, and he had to call the police. Unless…
"Christ." Charles pulled Edwin's cock from his pants, and stroked from root to tip. It sounded slick, and lewd, and felt so fucking good that Edwin thought he might pass out. "You liked that, didn't you?"
Edwin nodded, and forced himself to look up. He knew if he looked down, it'd be his undoing.
Charles stroked his cock again. "Maybe I'll get up and tell him myself, then. See if I can use you for payment. What's bus fare these days, anyway? £1.75? Your sweet arse might be enough to buy a round trip ticket, if we're lucky."
This time, Edwin couldn't hold the sounds back. A moan slipped past his lips. Charles clamped a hand over Edwin's mouth, and with his other hand, stroked faster. If anyone else were on the bus, they'd have heard it. Edwin's desperate whines, and the slick sound of precum as he fucked into Charles's fist. Thank goodness they'd turned down a dark, deserted road. If the street were busy, someone might've actually seen them.
Wait. Edwin glanced out the window again. He recognized this deserted road.
"Hang on," he tried to say, but Charles's hand muffled it. He pushed it off his face. "T-this next one. Pull the ringer. I-it's my stop."
With his free hand, Charles pulled the ringer. The bus dinged. All the while, he never let go of Edwin's cock.
Heat pooled low in Edwin's belly. He couldn't resist anymore. He looked down. The sight of his head, wet and blushed, peeking out of Charles's fist almost sent him over the edge. Charles must've felt it too, because he stroked faster and more frantic until Edwin thought he might see stars.
Then Charles thumbed over his slit, and he really did see stars. A star, more specifically. He closed his eyes and his vision went white, a supernovic burst of pleasure and warmth. Distantly, he felt Charles gather him in a hug. Probably to hide him from view.
"Fuck, Edwin," he murmured. "You did so good. Bloody hell."
Once Edwin returned to his senses, Charles backed off, but didn't go far. He kept a hand on Edwin's arm, solid and steadying.
"All right?" he asked.
He sounded genuinely concerned, so Edwin nodded. Though as he tucked himself away, he wondered if he should feel worse. What they'd done was illegal, after all. Not to mention unsanitary. And he didn't even know Charles. What if he was some kind of a pervert?
Edwin glanced sideways. Charles winked, and wave of warmth washed over him. No, he decided. This wasn't a mistake. He'd gotten his distraction, and Charles seemed nice enough. Besides, if it was a mistake, wouldn't he feel more guilty?
The bus squealed to a stop. Before he could stand, Charles grabbed his arm.
"Want to get coffee sometime?" he asked. In the light, Edwin couldn't tell if his eyes were brown, or dark with pupil.
Edwin considered. "Only seeing you once makes this hotter, you know."
"I know. Let's get coffee anyway."
The bus doors swung open. Edwin stood, and straightened his shirt. "All right, Charles. My last name is Payne. If you can track down my number, you can call me."
Charles grinned. "Deal, Edwin Payne. It's a date."