[SS-1707] Bus Showered

BUS SHOWERED


The bus rattled down the highway, steady and loud, like it was trying to drown out everything happening inside it.

The younger teammate was still out cold by the window.

Head tilted back. Lips parted just enough. That tight white shirt stretched across his chest, rising slow with each breath. The senior couldn’t stop looking. He told himself it was just curiosity at first, just noticing—but that lie had worn thin weeks ago.

Now it was hunger.

Real, heavy, sitting in his chest.

He leaned forward in his seat, elbows on his knees, eyes locked on the way the kid’s body moved even in sleep. The veins in his arms. The quiet strength in his thighs. Everything about him looked… offered. Even if it wasn’t.

Then the younger one murmured again.

“...touch…”

The word slipped out soft, barely there. But it hit hard.

The senior’s jaw tightened. He glanced around—teammates scattered, half-asleep, headphones on, nobody paying attention. The world outside kept moving, unaware.

Slowly, carefully, he leaned closer.

Close enough to feel the warmth coming off him.

His hand hovered, then finally rested—light, almost nothing—against the younger man’s arm. Solid. Warm. Real. The kind of contact that sent a sharp pulse straight through him.

The younger man didn’t wake.

If anything, he leaned into it.

Another quiet sound left him, like he was sinking deeper into whatever dream had him trapped. “...yeah…”

The senior swallowed hard.

He let his hand move just a little. Not much. Just enough to trace the shape of muscle under cotton. Enough to feel how real it was, how close. His breathing got heavier, harder to control, but he didn’t stop.

He couldn’t.

He leaned in further, closer to the younger man’s shoulder, his face near enough to brush fabric. He hesitated—just for a second—then let himself linger there, breathing him in, caught somewhere between restraint and something darker.

The bus hit a bump.

The younger man shifted, chest rising sharply, lips moving again.

"Touch..." he whispered, the word barely audible over the engine's hum. "Want it... Cum on me..."

The senior’s breath hitched. He glanced around the darkened bus, seeing only sleeping shapes and shadows. The moment stretched, taut as a bowstring. Then, with a low growl, he reached into his pants. His hand wrapped around his cock, tight and desperate, stroking hard and fast, the friction sending jolts of electricity through him. The kid’s eyes fluttered open for a split second, glazed and unfocused, a faint smile touching his lips.

"Yeah..." the younger man breathed, sinking back into the cushions, surrendering to the sensation. The senior let out a harsh cry, hips bucking off the seat as he came, hot and thick, spraying his release across the younger man’s muscled chest and stomach, the white liquid glistening in the dim light. The younger man sighed in his sleep, content, the warmth spreading over his skin, as the senior slumped back, heart hammering against his ribs.

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