Bonded. Part 1. [M/F] [M45/F28] [MDom/Fsub] [Slow Burn]

Sometimes existence felt like it was split into neat little quadrants on the clock. Everything I did in a day could fit there, a predictable pattern of all things known in my little world. Gym, commute, work, commute, home, maybe a night out with friends, but most likely a half finished poem by the bedside and then sleep. I’m not saying I regretted the way my day could be mapped with a blindfold on, I’m just saying these waters had been undisturbed for too long.

The restlessness could be tasted off of the air around me, if someone was to pay attention that is. And most didn’t.

Until that one day.

It was a full train, bursting almost, everyone shoving each other to create room for their elbows and bags. I had been pushed by the incoming swarm of busy bodies, all the way to the middle of the train, near the seated folks clutching tightly to their seats. Another shove, and a bump of the train itself, and I stumbled a little against a knee and quickly mumbled a practiced, instinctual “Sorry!” without really looking at the person to whom the denim clad knee belonged.Silence.

*Odd*.

The least that people did on the subway was to be fake polite and have manners. Say “it’s ok” back!This made me pause and look for his face. I met a shock of hazel eyes, as if he had been waiting for me to acknowledge him, as if he expected it of me. He was calmly looking up at me, a little smile playing at the corner of his lips. Slowly, he shook his head and closed his eyes a bit, in that “don’t worry about it” way people do, as they exude a sense of complete stillness.

I had to work very hard to school my face at that moment. I don’t think I’d ever met anyone who looked so at ease, in this entire godforsaken city that prided itself on being always restless.Another jolt, and I bumped into his knee, hard. Before I could say the “sorry” forming on my lips, he tapped his hand to my leg.

Usually, I’d be shocked at the least, and offended at most at this intrusion. But, his touch didn’t feel lecherous, instead, it felt warm, too warm, over my tights. All of a sudden, I was overly conscious of the length of my dress, the flare that could not reveal anything in this tightly shut train car, but his hand was on my fucking knee, so close to my thigh. His fingers wrapped around tapped at the back of my leg, and I felt arrested, utterly in shock at the reality of what was happening but unable to stop the wash of acceptance.

Perhaps he saw how caught in the headlights I looked, perhaps he got impatient, still gently, he pulled at my leg until I followed his direction and slowly shifted and found myself between his open legs.He wasn’t rudely spread, but he made enough room for me to be nestled between his thighs.

*Fuck*.

I looked down, trying to see any indication on his face to get some explanation of what the fuck just happened? Nothing. Just his fingers barely hovering next to my legs. He wasn’t even looking at me, like this was not at all about me, but his hand was a constant presence. A barely there reminder that…I’m not sure what? That I was under his protection at this moment? I couldn’t stop the shiver that ran down my spine.

His jeans were rubbing against my tights, I could feel the roughness, I could feel his warmth, his head was so so close to my tits. But it didn’t feel like that was his intention. He just sat there, eyes closed, listening to whatever he was before I was here. I was utterly at a loss for words, or understanding of any sort.

It was exhilarating.

*What was wrong with me?*

The world rushed in and I was aware of the fact that all of this occurred in a full subway train, with people around. Granted, people here made it their business to not notice anything, but fuck if I wasn’t still blushing deep. I started doing that fidget, standing and yet moving, as if being in the here and now was too much and there was no escape. He felt it, felt me, moving about and bumping into his legs again. It made me redder, I could feel him looking up at me, I refused to meet his eyes.

Until I felt his hand on my elbow. It was stronger this time, he demanded that I look at him. I had to obey. Heart beating loud, eyes big and lips pursed to stop myself from gasping or doing something equally stupid, I finally acquiesced. He was like stillness captured in a human body, his movements measured and purposeful. So unlike mine. He carefully pulled me closer, his facial expressions not giving any of his intentions away, but I was hooked to follow along regardless.

In a fluid movement, he got up from his seat, for a mere moment our bodies were pressed against each other and I may have imagined him inhaling a bit strongly, and the next moment I was seated in his spot. His scent still lingered there, woodsmoke, sandalwood and something else I couldn’t place. I couldn’t help but close my eyes and breathe it in.

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/10dzdw8/bonded_part_1_mf_m45f28_mdomfsub_slow_burn