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“You know, Conductor..”
He looks up at you.
The train rumbles on, even late into the night. Staring out the window wouldn’t do much, there wasn’t much to look at— snow as far as the eye could see, the blizzard coming down rough.
It was going to be quite some time before the next stop. You decided to kill some time with your beloved conductor, who.. you’re unsure of whether or not he likes you. Regardless, it’s entertaining to get a rise out of him. So you set out to do just that.
He recognizes the glint in your eyes, and he narrows his own red ones.
“What?” He mutters impatiently, cigarette burning between his fingers.
Currently, you two sat in a booth in an entirely empty car. The only light happened to be some dim lanterns mounted on the walls of the train— really, it was quite an expensive looking train.
You sit up straight, leaning your cheek into your hand. “I’ve always wondered, do you get warm under all those layers..?”
He’s clearly distrusting of your words, despite you not having said anything deserving of such. He tends to treat you like this, but you truly don’t mind— it amuses you, and your amusement only irritates him further.
Despite this, he did not move when you sat with him upon finding him in this isolated car.
You call him a myriad of things, but never by his name— you weren’t really sure what his name was, anyway.
Conductor, Mister Conductor, Mister Kreiss, Conductor Kreiss, sometimes just Kreiss, but for tonight you’ve settled on Conductor. For now, anyway.
“I’m perfectly comfortable.”
He says this dismissively, turning his eyes away from you to land on his cigarette as he takes a long drag from it. You roll your eyes at his flippancy when he isn’t looking, but shortly thereafter, you reach across the table and snatch his hat off his head.
“
Hey—“
“Your clothes
are
really nice, though,” you say, looking at the hat. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him glaring, but he makes no move to take the thing back. “So those coats you wear must be warm, yeah?” You smile and put it atop your own head.
“How do I look?”
“Awful. Give it back.”
You laugh and his jaw sets. Still, though, he doesn’t move to take it back, so you just keep it on as you lean your head back into your hand, looking at him.
Truly, he’s a handsome man. You could see his face better without the hat.
His hair was a little tousled since he’d likely been wearing the hat all day, and you watch with interest as he brings a gloved hand up to lazily fix it.
“What do you wear under all those layers, anyway?” You ask, and his eyes narrow. You tilt your head. “Do you wear
another
coat? You’ve already got two, I don’t see why you need another—“
“It isn’t another coat,” he tells you monotonously.
You hum, outstretching your arm to slowly take the cigarette from his hand. And he lets you, albeit with a terribly unamused look. There’s a very slight tint to his cheeks when you place it in your mouth and take a long drag off of it. There’s otherwise no reaction, no evidence that what you’ve just done embarrasses him at all.
“I don’t believe you,” you say. “I think it’s another coat.”
You blow the smoke in his face. His nose wrinkles and he blinks rapidly for a second or so, looking irked, and you hand the cigarette back to him. He takes it, but looks unwilling to use it again.
“You don’t have to believe me,” he mutters quietly, looking down at the cigarette. He seems to notice the way your lips upturn at his hesitance, and as though to prove a point, he puts it to his lips again. After a moment he sighs the smoke out of his nostrils, and then unamusedly raises his brows at you as though to ask,
happy?
You hum. “Can I see?”
He pauses. He continues staring with a blank expression for a few seconds, before asking, “
What?”
“Can I see.”
“See what.”
Neither of you phrase your sentences as questions, and there’s a moment where you both just stare at one another, the Conductor looking vaguely agitated and you looking innocently enough. Though, that glint in your eyes from the beginning of this conversation still hasn’t gone away. It’s starting to make him uncomfortable, face burning ever so slightly.
You roll your eyes. “See your
clothes,
Conductor. They look warm and expensive and I’m curious.”
“I can tell you right now that they are both warm
and
expensive.”
This guy truly wants to take the fun out of everything.
Nonetheless, you don’t back down.
“Please?” You say, placing your palms together pleadingly, and he squints. He says nothing for a moment, before sighing and pressing the cigarette into the ashtray on the table. He stands with a great show of annoyance, and you watch from the seat as he takes the coat draped on his shoulders off, and then deftly undoes the buttons of his other coat.
It’s quick, and though he pulls open the coat to show you a white button up and a tie, you’re unsatisfied.
He wears a belt around his waist over the long coat, so he doesn’t unbutton it very much, likely unwilling to take off the belt. He holds it open for a moment, and strangely, he doesn’t begin buttoning it back up, seemingly waiting for your reaction.
“Are you happy now?” He asks, his tone irritated and perhaps somewhat mocking, likely expecting you to be dissatisfied with what you’ve been shown.
Contrastly, though, a rather appealing idea has begun to form in your mind.
You stand up as well— something that confuses him slightly, though he doesn’t show it. You go to stand straight in front of him.
With a small smile, you say, “Yes. May I take a closer look?”
He pauses.
“A closer..”
You nod and begin fiddling with the belt around the waist of his coat, and he freezes, but doesn't stop you. It’s a somewhat annoying endeavor, due to the amount of
things
he has on it, but you eventually do unbuckle it successfully without messing anything up. You place the belt on the table and he’s still a little stiff when the second coat comes off too.
It’s simple enough under all his layers— the white button up is tucked into black dress pants with another, less fancy belt looped into them.
You hum, and you do notice how though he’s fixed you with a stoney, irritated look, the blush on his face has spread considerably.
“How professional,” you say, reaching up to adjust his collar, which had been crooked from his earlier haste to unbutton the coat.
“..I guess..”
Your fingers brush against his neck for a moment, before you take his loosened tie, tightening it. He takes a long suffering breath as you do so, his eyes not leaving you, and you look up at him, holding the tie in your hands.
“Everything alright, Conductor?” You ask, voice low. It’s a genuine question as much as it’s a teasing one, you’ll listen to either answer.
He looks aside silently.
“..
Fine
..”
His responses are short and quiet, mumbling under his breath. But you simply nod and let go of the tie, letting it fall back onto his chest as he stands. You walk around him..
He exhales quietly, supposedly some kind of sigh of relief, but his earlier panic returns when he suddenly feels arms snaking around his torso from behind him, as well body being pressed closely to his back.
He lets out a quiet gasp when you place your hands firmly on his waist with a nonchalant hum that would normally infuriate him if he weren’t so taken aback right now. All he can do is look down at your hands with wide eyes and a concerningly red face, mouth slightly open in shock.
His breath hitches when your hands actually
squeeze
his waist, and you place your chin on his shoulder, talking directly into his ear with a low voice.
“You’ve got such a small waist, too..” Your breath makes him shiver slightly as you only press yourself further into his back, humming thoughtfully as your hands trail further up his torso, shamelessly feeling him up through the shirt.
The only sounds right now are the rumbling of the train, the muffled howling of the blizzard, and the rustling of fabric. He’s trying his best to hold his breath and stay silent, but what small, periodic breaths he does take are shaky and more like quiet gasps.
Your hands reach his chest and you press your fingers into his fabric, causing him to make a small hitched sound.
“You’ve got a nice body, too,” you mutter quietly. “I can feel it through the shirt— you’re quite muscular..”
You brush your thumbs across where his nipples are, and he lets out the quietest whimper, eyes still wide.
You lean closer, so that your lips are brushing against the shell of his ear as you whisper, “Is something wrong, Conductor..?” You run your hands over that area again and he swallows harshly, making another soft yet unintentionally breathy sound when his legs begin to weaken, leaning slightly against you.
He gives no answer, though. You hum and press yourself closer against his back and he shakily sighs, attempting to regain himself enough to respond.
“W-what.. are you.. doing..?”
He loathes how much he stammers, but he truly can’t help it— his face burns, and the hot feeling is slowly beginning to envelope his entire body, the more you feel him up. He’s embarrassed, he’s terribly ashamed at how these admittedly small touches have caught him so off guard, and yet.. he can’t bring himself to stop you. He doesn’t think he could, even if he wanted to. He shivers when you breathe against his neck, looking aside with an audible wince. He feels your hands begin to trail back down, and he heaves a shaky sigh when you squeeze his waist for the second time.
“Th-this is..”
“I’m just looking at your clothes,” you whisper, punctuating your words with soft strokes along his stomach. He has to bring a hand up to cover his mouth.
“Is that so bad?” You ask, and he gasps when your arms go tighter around him, holding him closely against you. His heart races erratically, and his breathing has begun to pick up. His eyes have gone half lidded at this point, staying attentively on your roaming hands.
“I..
I-I
..”
He takes a sudden breath.
“This.. is too much..”
You hum, moving to brush your lips against his ear again, and he stammers slightly when your hands trail even further down..
“Why is that..?” You ask, and he lets out a small, frustrated groan when you ask this. He gives no answer, though, because any and all words he would have had vanish when you reach his belt, grabbing it, tugging on it..
“You’ve even got a nice belt,” you say, entirely too casual, and he whines a little, though it’s small and breathy, devoid of any kind of bite, no matter how much he’d have tried to regain his composure. He leans back further against you— the way you’ve managed to encircle him like this is making him nervous, heat now spreading throughout his entire body as he trembles slightly. Shamefully, he can’t help but enjoy this, in some twisted way. Because your intent is to tease him, to torment him, but his mind goes hazy as he wonders just how far you’re going to take it.
Another small whine is drawn from the back of his throat when your hands continue roaming, as he finds himself..
eager
..
“W-what is your intent.. here..?”
He asks this, some sternness in his tone, but it doesn’t affect you— it never does.
Your fingers creep to his belt buckle, and though you fiddle with it, you don’t actually begin unbuckling it. He’s mortified to find that this frustrates him.
“Like I said,” you hum, “just looking at your clothes.”
You graze your teeth across the area just below his ear, and his breath hitches when you nip at it and ask, “What were you thinking..?”
“What are you..” He gasps softly when just one of your hands moves away from his belt buckle and further below it, dragging your hand along the zipper and pressing
right
into his clothed dick with teasing fingers.
“W-why are you.. you’re..”
His voice grows weaker, whimpering when you press again. You don’t miss the way he pushes into your hand with a shaky sigh.
He’s about to tell you to
hurry it up
since you like taking your God Damn Time, but just like that, you pull away.
You pull away entirely. Your hands unwrap from around him and step away, putting some distance between you two. He stumbles a bit, as he’d been leaning against you previously, but then, he’s still.
For a moment, he’s frozen. What just happened? You were just about to..
He turns around to look at you and takes a step towards you, flushed face looking both wildly desperate and wildly
annoyed.
Angry, even. You poorly suppress a smile when he closes the distance between you two, fuming.
“
What the—“
“Conductor,” you say, and he is still sensitive to your words it seems, going silent but still glaring angrily as you talk.
“I was just looking at your clothes. What’s with that look..?”
“You know
damn well
that’s not what you were—“
“You’re really going to get so worked up over something like
this
?” You ask, acting like you’re better than him, even though
you
were the one who initiated it.
Those words seem to get to him, though. He clenches his fists at his sides, glaring, but he has no response. You nod and take his hat off your head, placing it crookedly atop his.
Using his own pride against him— God, he really does hate you. He can’t help but fall for your words, though, shutting up, because there’s no way he’s going to lose his shit at you for something as petty as what would likely at best be an average handjob. He tries to convince himself that it would indeed be average to try and satiate the
need
coursing through his veins, elicited by being touched like that. He tells himself that you probably had no idea what you were doing, despite the way that you’d managed to work him up
badly.
He will ignore logic for now.
You’re “considerate” enough to fix his shirt back. He ignores the way each touch sends another shiver throughout his entire body, instead opting to glare angrily the whole time. You step back and give him an infuriating smile.
“You’re sweating like a sinner in church, Conductor,” you say, and he feels his face burn with embarrassment again. He says nothing. You tilt your head.
“You’d better get some rest. It’s late.”
The silent treatment, it seems. All he can manage to do is glower, and so you take your leave, feeling his eyes burning holes into the back of your head as you walk off.