The Train

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at [Link]

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Category: M/M
Fandom: Original Work
Additional Tags: Pedophilia, Drunk Sex, Forced
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2022-03-17 Words: 3,247 Chapters: 1/1
 The Train
by JTTurtle

Summary

After over-indulging at the bar with his friends, Chris decides to take the subway home.
Alone and horny on a train with a boy who's out way past his bed time, Chris makes a
decision that will change both of their lives forever.
Chris was pretty fucking drunk. He hadn’t meant to drink nearly as much as he did, but his
friends kept on buying him birthday drinks. At the time it didn’t seem like such a terrible
idea, but now, after all of his friends just kind of disappeared, leaving him to find his own
way home, he had some regrets.

Now it was after who-knows-when’O’clock, and his taxi just wasn’t showing up. In a last
ditch effort to not pass out in the middle of road, he started teetering down the street to the
subway. After a rather unpleasant trip down the stairs, he found himself sprawled on the floor
of the empty platform, and his eyes became heavier and heavier.

As if by some awfully creepy miracle, Chris woke up to the wisping roar of the train as it
sped through the bowels of the city. The sudden dread of his lack of memory and his probable
loss of time jolted him upright.

Chris looked around the car. It was practically empty, aside from a single person across the
aisle and a few seats down. Chris stared at the person, concentrating on focusing his gaze.
“Hey,” he said in a slow, drawn out voice. “Where are we?”

The person didn’t answer, so Chris assumed he was just too far. In complete and total
caution, he steadied himself to his feet and made his way toward his only hope. “Hey,” he
tried again, as he approached the person. “Did we pass D-Stop, off 13th?”

Chris now stood right beside the person, looking down at him. Whoever the person was, he
seemed to be hard of hearing, and actually quite small for a person. Chris stared down at this
odd little formuntil his eyes decided to focus. It was a kid. A boy. The realization both
surprised and aroused him. “Hey, what you doing out here so late?” Chris sat down next to
the kid. “You lost?”

The kid didn’t say anything, but Chris could tell he could hear him, as he kinda shrugged as
he stared out the window at the black. Obviously, he was trying not to talk to strangers.

“I’m sorry.” Chris slouched down in his seat. “I don’t usually drink like this. It was my
birthday, and they bought me all these drinks, but then they just left me stranded. Don’t know
where they went,” he said, scratching aimlessly at his arm. “Just turned thirty, if you can
believe it. I don’t feel thirty. I feel drunk, but not old as fuck like I am.” The kid still said
nothing, but Chris swore he saw a little smile on his face. “How old are you, kid? What’s
your name?”

The kid just kinda shrugged, still uneasy Chris decided, as he looked the boy over. He
couldn’t be much older than twelve, maybe thirteen, but definitely not fourteen. Unless he
was a really late bloomer. He had light brown hair, cut fairly short, but long enough to show
that it hadn’t seen a comb in a day or two. His eyes, too, were brown, and his skin was very
lightly tanned and smooth with youth.

Chris stared for quite some time, mostly just wandering off into the drunken stupor of his
mind. “I’m going to call you Steve,” Chris declared, and patted the boy on the knee for no
particular reason other than wanting to do it.
Steve was wearing dark gray sweatpants, the kind that were stitched to look like jeans for
some reason. Complete with fly and everything, though Chris wasn’t sure if the fly was real
or not. A zipper on sweatpants didn’t seem very comfy.

“Steve, I think I must be old after all,” Chris declared, looking down at the boy’s pants,
“because I just don’t understand these clothes you’re wearing. Why are they trying to be
something they’re not?”

Chris pinched at the material of the boy’s pants, just on the inner-side of the his knee. “I
mean, I guess it’s because they’re comfy, right? And a man needs to be comfy, but he also
wants to be stylish.” Chris absentmindedly pinched at the material. “I guess I do get it, Steve.
You’re a smart guy. I should listen to you more often.”

Steve was still looking out the window, completely ignoring Chris. “You don’t talk much, do
you, Steve?” Chris rested his hand on the boy’s knee. “Steve?” he shook the boy’s leg a little.
“You are alive, right Steve?” He saw a slight smirk on the boy’s face. “Or maybe you’re not
even real. Are you real, Steve?”

Chris moved his hand from the kid’s knee and gently poked at his cheek. “You feel that,
Steve?” He poked again, but Steve, though smiling, just kept on ignoring him. “You must be
real. Your face is too smooth to be fake.” Chris slid the back of his fingers along the boy’s
cheek. “Warm, too,” he said, as he slid his index finger over the boy’s lips.

This caused Steve’s eyes to stare down and watch Chris’s hand in a worried-and-weirded-out
sort of way, and it was just about that time when Chris managed to make eye contact with
him, if only for a split second. “Can’t be fake. Your lips are too soft, too,” said Chris, and
then, realizing how strange he was being, released the kid’s face. “You’ve got nice lips,
Steve. Don’t let no one ever tell you different.”

A few silent moments passed and Chris glimpsed at his watch, not registering the time at all.
“Where the fuck are we, Steve? Where’s the stops? The train’s been training forever,” Chris
stared out the window, at the nothingness of the subway tunnels. “Did I miss D-Stop, Steve?”

Steve just kind of shrugged, like he had no idea where they were either.

“Where are you headed, Steve?” Steve, of course, didn’t answer, so Chris patted him on the
knee. “It’s okay, Steve. You don’t need to talk.”

As the train continued down the seemingly endless track, Chris’s fingers started slip-sliding
back and forth along the kid’s knee, back and forth, playing with the smoothness of the
material. He let his hand move inward, along the inside of the boy’s thigh, reaching three-
quarters of the way up before slowly sliding back down again. Touching the kid was turning
him on something fierce. He couldn’t believe good old Steve wasn’t saying anything.

Every forward motion up Steve’s leg, Chris dared just a little bit further, and Steve just sat
there completely still. It seemed no matter what Chris did, the boy would just stay still and
quiet, so he decided to put that to the test. On his next upward pass he slid his hand right up
and on top of the kid’s private bits.
Little Steve definitely payed attention then. His head dropped to look down at the hand
between his legs, as Chris’s hand started feeling around for all the hidden bits. While he
couldn’t feel a whole lot through the material, there was no doubt in Chris’s mind that he was
feeling the kid’s soft, little cockadoodle. It wasn’t all that big, of course. Maybe two inches, if
that. Probably average for a boy Steve’s age.

Chris massaged the boy’s length through his pants as the boy stared down at what was being
done to him, still completely silent. After a minute of casual play, the kid’s little Steve was
still completely soft, but Steve hadn’t made an attempt to stop him, so Chris decided to step
things up a little. His finger slid up the boy’s fly and under the fold, to the zipper, only to
discover the shit ain’t real. With the decoration zipper trap discovered, Chris aborted the
attempt to unzip the kid’s pants.

Instead, he slid his hand up to Steve’s waistband, feeling his soft and wonderful tummy for
just a second, and then hooked his fingers under the elastic and pulled them outward as far as
they’d go. Chris peered inside the boy’s pants at his white boxer-briefs, fitting nice and snug
against Steve’s thin little body.

“Oh my, Steve. Nice little bulge you got there.” Without even thinking, Chris leaned right on
down between the boy’s legs and placed a nice long kiss to the boy’s super-center, pinching
his lips softly against the kid’s still-soft cock through his underwear. As he did this, Chris felt
Steve’s hands push up against his head, trying to push him away. Chris stood his ground,
kissing and groping at the boy’s cock and balls through his underwear, as his hands tugged
down at the boy’s pants.

The kid still struggled to get Chris to move, even as his sweatpants slid out from underneath
him and dropped to his ankles, even as Chris’s hot, suckling mouth caused his little cock to
betray him and start to stiffen.

Chris rubbed at the boy with his lips, massaging the pecker through the fabric, as it turned
from soft to rubbery to a miniature rod of steel. “Dear God, that’s fucking hot, Steve!” Chris
said, sitting back up and pulling out his phone. “Going to want to remember this forever.”

After taking a few photos of the boy, Chris leaned forward and kissed the boy on the cheek,
causing Steve to turn his head away. Chris just leaned in more and kissed the boy on the
neck. Repeatedly. Sucking at his chin and neck and behind the ear and then cheek again. He
then reached up, turned the boy’s head to face him, and kissed Steve on the lips.

As much as Chris pinched at the boy’s insanely wonderful lips, Steve didn’t kiss back. Still,
that didn’t deter Chris in the slightest. He simply reached down and started massaging the
boy’s still-hard cock through his underwear.

“Can I take off your boxers, Steve?” Chris asked, already toying with the waistband. “It’ll
feel so much nicer without them.”

Looking Steve right in the eye, the kid shook his head no. Chris looked down at the boy’s
little bulge, smiled, and began working the boy’s underwear down.
Pulling from the seat of the boy’s underpants, Chris worked the fabric out from under the kid
and slowly slid them down, along the boy’s silky-smooth thighs. Steve’s cock strained
against the elastic waistband as it passed by, revealing nothing but smooth, bald, perfect skin.
As the fabric continued, the boy’s hard cock was pulled down straight, the waistband tickling
up the shaft, until its entirety was finally released and a quick, hard slap of boycock bounced
against the boy’s pelvis, revealing a hard, four inch, circumcised cock that pointed straight up
in the air.

Just as the underwear fell the the boy’s ankles, the train squealed to a slow but sudden stop.
Chris froze. Steve tensed. They both stared at the doors as they slid open and remained that
way for an eternity times two. No one entered and Steve didn’t even attempt to get out, and
eventually the doors slid back shut, and the train resumed its journey.

“I hope that wasn’t D-Stop,” Chris said, as he reached down for the boy’s boner and gave it a
nice, long squeeze.

His hand didn’t move. Chris was simply enjoying the feel. He’d never held a prepubescent
boy’s cock before, and he needed to enjoy it. Steve’s cock occasionally twitched in his grip,
begging to be masturbated or swallowed whole.

Chris leaned in and gave the boy another kiss on the lips, letting the touch linger as he gently
nibbled at the wonderful, gooey lower lip. The boy’s cock gave a nice, rapid twitch, and
Chris could have sworn he felt Steve’s lip, just barely, pinch at his own.

“You have a very nice, little cock, Steve.” Chris released his grip and looked down at the
boy’s wonderful center, then took a few more photos. “Very, very nice.

He lowered himself down in his seat, his head moving between the boy’s legs, and he inhaled
the boy’s heat, feeling his hard cock against the side of face, until Chris opened his mouth
and brought his lips down around Steve’s excited little rod.

Chris’s tongue rolled around the entire length. Feeling everything. Memorizing it. The base,
the shaft, the glans and corona, the small slit at the very tip, and then Chris began to move up
and down on the entire length. Steve’s cock twitched again and again, flexing and pumping
and getting harder as it jumped around against Chris’s tongue and lips.

Chris’s hands slid up the boy’s sides, back down his thighs, inside then out and under, feeling
every square inch of the sexy little fuck in his mouth. As he sucked the boy’s cock, his legs
involuntarily spread out, moving over slightly, forcing Chris to half spill-out into the aisle, as
one of Steve’s legs found its way up on the seat. Chris’s hands still exploring, his right hand
traveled down the inside of the boy’s thigh, between his legs to play with his balls, then down
and under to squeeze the boy’s ass.

As soon as he did this, Steve whimpered just a little bit, the tiniest, most adorable little moans
Chris had ever heard. Hearing this, Chris continued massaging the boy’s ass, now with both
hands, pulling the boy down onto his back in the seat, only letting go just long enough
remove the boy's shoes and allow his pants and underwear slide to the floor.
With his fingers grabbing at the boy’s ass, a few found their way between the cheeks, deep in
the parted clefts, until tickling up against Steve’s hot little pucker. Chris’s pinky finger circled
the little ring as his mouth continued up and down the boy’s pecker. Then he pushed his
pinky up against it, in by a knuckle in a fraction of a second.

Steve yelped and clenched his ass muscles, driving his cock up into Chris’s mouth. Chris
pushed forward, forcing his little finger in even further and then moving back and forth in
rhythm to his sucking.

Once the finger could slide in freely, Chris removed it and immediately replaced it with his
middle finger, driving it deep within the boy in one quick motion. Steve’s hand, for the first
time, found purchase on Chris’s head. For the brief moment, the hands attempted to pull
Chris off his cock, but Chris just pulled back his finger then drove it back into the boy.

The kid’s hands remained on Chris’s head as the sucking resumed. All the while, Chris
explored the insides of the boy, feeling around, pressing against the slick, hot tissue as it
begged for a hard man’s cock.

Chris stopped everything and knelt upright, staring down at the nearly naked boy. “Wanna get
fucked?”

Steve just stared at him, his expression blank, watching as Chris undid his pants and fished
out his uncut cock. Not huge by any standards, but a solid six inches, perhaps a bit more, and
just thick enough to not look awkward. Chris looked back at the boy and smiled, raising both
hands—one in the shape of an “o” the other and “l”, and he slid his finger in and out of the
“o” shape, all the while pressing his cock between the boy’s legs.

“Time to see if it fits!” Chris guided his cock to the boy’s hot little hold and pushed against it,
hard.

“NO!” screamed Steve, trying to pull away.

The sudden noise scared the shit out of Chris, and he nearly fell over. “Holy shit, you can
talk?!”

“Please don’t,” the boy asked.

Chris simply found his way back between the boy’s legs and aligned himself. “Give it a
chance. It’s my birthday.”

He pushed forward, gently this time, circling his cockhead against the unhappy pucker,
feeling it slowly find its way inside. In about a minutes, the entire head had worked its way
inside. Chris could feel the boy’s body trying to squish it back out, but he just rocked himself
forward. Backward and forward, allowing himself in gradually. Very, painfully so.

Despite the boy’s eyes being pressed tightly closed, and the grimace on his face, and the
tightened muscles and all the protesting, Steve’s cock was still stiff as a prick in a pin
cushion. Chris grabbed hold of it and gave it a few good strokes, just as he forced the rest of
himself inside the bald little boy. “Oh sweet Jesus, there we go! All a-fucking-board!” Chris
hummed happily as he pushed deep inside the boy. “Ready?”

Steve kept his eyes closed, and Chris began to fuck him. Slowly back, and then slipping right
back in as deep as he could reach. In and then out. Back and forth, his pace increased as the
boy between his legs began to relax. The boy’s little cock still hard as ever in Chris’s grip, as
the man leaned forward and kissed the boy on the lips.

“Kiss me back,” he begged and pushed himself deep and hard into the boy. “Please.”

The kid’s lips pinched against his own, causing Chris’s heart to skip three beats, as he pulled
back and the pumped right back in, as deep and hard as he could. The boy whimpered as his
lips parted, and Chris slipped his tongue inside the boy’s mouth. Steve’s tongue cowered
away in protest, but as Chris continued to thrust deep inside the boy, his right hand still
masturbating his hard little cock, Steve’s tongue surrendered, and Chris danced with it.

Sucking on the boy’s tongue, sliding all around it, their lips pressed tight together, as a hard
boy cock, skin so silky smooth, pulsed in his grip, Chris pushed himself deep into the boy,
considered pulling back again, but the brink had swollen past its tipping point, and everything
came flooding out.

Chris tensed for but a moment as the first burst of cum flooded the boy’s already slick
bowels, and then he began to circle his hips, pressing hard and deep into the boy, feeling his
legs tense and buckle, as he thrust, thrust, thrust hard and fast into the boy’s ass.

Steve grunted with every forward thrust, his little cock all but forgotten in the man’s grip, as
Chris freed the boy’s tongue and dropped his head down to the crook of his neck.

Spent, Chris lay limp on top of the boy, so wonderfully complete and happy, he began to
giggle for no other reason than to deal with the onslaught of overwhelming emotions.

As he came to his senses, he pushed himself up and off of the boy. The kid’s cock was now
flaccid and small and red from friction. Chris took a few more photos of the boy then got
them both dressed.

Moments later, they sat side-by-side, not a word between them. Briefly. “Did we miss D-
Stop, Steve?”

Chris looked down at the kid. He was crying, looking down at his feet. Chris lifted the boy’s
head to face him. Steve’s lip quivered and his eyes were puffy red. “I’m sorry, Steve,” he
said, sitting awkwardly, looking up and noticing all the cameras stationed around the train.
He was likely fucked times three.

The kid didn’t say anything. He just wiped his face on his sleeve and gestured over to a sign
on the wall. It was a map of the route. Chris got up and moved to it, now quite sober, and
studied the map. He was on the wrong train.
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