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Your boyfriend stares at you intently through his reflection in the window of the vending machine.
The image is dim and a bit blurred, a street lantern behind your backs diffusing it with its orange light, but you can feel its weight, nevertheless. You're scanned inside out, stripped with the gaze only, the trench coat you're wearing already but a laughable barrier. There's nothing underneath, not even underwear, and even if your own reflection appears properly dressed and modest, Takuma's eyes skim along your figure right along his favorite lines, his precision making you feel uneasy in the most delicious, lust-soaked way.
For him, you're completely naked, and you trust him more than your own eyes.
You tremble, yourself not sure if in excitement, anxiety, or from the cold, inexorably soaking through the light coat. Under other circumstances, it would be perfect for a serene fall evening and a lazy walk through the park, but with nothing else on you bar your boots, you're a one, thin step away from the area where the conditions become uncomfortable. Maybe you're already there but the heat blowing you apart plays into your hands and helps you power through. It's not like it's your first rodeo either, it's become one of your favorite outdoor dates, and you've been impatiently looking forward to them through warm months, when attire necessary for this kind of a play would only raise suspicions instead of blending with surroundings.
"Need a warmup?" Takuma approaches even closer, now nearly glued to your back. As his hips slot flush against your ass, you can feel his own excitement poking at you with great interest. Like your innocent trench coat, his baggy clothes hide all the dirty secrets away from sticky eyes, reserving the delicious bulge for you only.
He's still far from full mast, any extra 'fold' in his pants with ease passing as loose fabric, but he leaves you no doubt that the stop for your favorite instant hot chocolate is the last he allows.
"Maybe a little," your voice is calm and smooth and beaming with a smile, but on the inside you're burning. His arms wrapped around you, warm breath skimming along the side of your jaw and neck, Takuma pours gallons of gasoline into this crazy flame. You're grateful that he's cradling you from behind, you can focus on your drink and on keeping your face straight without worrying about your legs just giving in.
God only knows how badly your knees shake. And there's still quite a distance to do until you reach 'your' bench.
Hot chocolate fixes your morale. It's overly sweet, artificial and warm, exactly as you need right now. You cradle it in your hands right after taking a sip, and take a turn, now facing Takuma and pleasing your eye with his real appearance. From up close, he looks much younger than he is—and so, so innocent, unfitting such a pervert, a man who's fucked you already in dozens of public spaces in your neighborhood.
Well, you're no better, with all that eagerness between wide open legs and nails digging in his back when he's taking you a meter or two away from unsuspecting bystanders.
"Is it good?" Takuma leans close, feigning a kiss, his lips brush against yours when he adds the real question: "Are you as wet as I think you are?"
"Yeah." Sweetness on your tongue and wet trails on the inner side of your thighs don't need any second thoughts.
"Don't make me check." His hand slots below your hip, having your heart skip a beat, but he only pulls you close to steal a sip from the cup.
He stains your nose with chocolate a second later, such an innocent peck, befitting the middle of the park and company of an elderly couple enjoying their drinks on a bench nearby.
Holding hands, you slowly head towards your spot. Even if lanterns are already on, it's still naturally bright and it's not hard to pass someone on the pavement. The area gradually thins down though, the more you venture into the maze of alleys, the less you run across joggers, dog owners on their last walk of the day, and unlucky salarymen heading home from the overtime, taking a shortcut to the railway station on the other side of park. By the time you finally make it there, the voices and steps you can still hear are just a distant hum.
It's a small playground, an older type, rather secluded even during the rush hours, as the majority of kids prefer the fancy one closer to the entrance from the side of the main street. Here, with only two lanterns supporting the fading sunset, the night has already settled, providing you two comfortable shadows. 'Your' bench is handily placed at the back, almost hidden among the shrubs. They give more privacy during summer, but so early in the fall they still have enough leaves to shield you in case of unwanted company.
There's still a good third of chocolate left in the cup but you toss it into the trash can without a second thought. You crash into each other, nearly tripping over your legs as you take the last few steps together, entangled in limbs and kisses. The bench is hard and cold, uncomfortable with only one fine layer protecting you from the wood, but soon you find a better seat: Takuma pulls you into his lap and hastily unbuttons your coat.
As always, he's far from patient, his hunger for you too great to waste any second now. He trails wet, open-mouthed kisses from your neck to your chest, sucks and teases your nipples until they're perky and sensitive, and a simple brush of his thumb against one of them has you mewling, your voice echoing around the empty playground.
"Shhh," he guides your face to slot against the crook of his neck and keeps you there, until you collect yourself. "We don't want to be caught, don't we?"
The way he scolds you, more like an older brother than a lover, would have you soaking through your undies, if only you were wearing them. Instead, a trail of your arousal falls straight into his lap; he inhales sharply through clenched teeth, himself on the brink of a moan, and collects your moisture with a thumb. A simple swipe across your slit makes your thighs shake but you keep your position, just enough to paw him through his pants and to fight with the zipper. Takuma doesn't help you, instead busying himself with marking your neck and chest. He supports you only with one arm pulled around your back, just to maintain the balance and veneer of an appropriate situation.
We're just a young couple making out on a secluded bench, please don't mind us and just pass by, there's really nothing to look at.
There are indeed people somewhere in the direction you're facing, little you care now whether they're approaching or not. Your senses are full of your boyfriend, of his taste and smell, of his teeth nipping teasingly around your nipples and his strong arm enveloping you close. He lets out a little groan, muffled by your skin, when you finally peel his clothes out of your way and stroke his cock. He's decently hard already and reaches his prime fast, with just a few strokes.
"You have cold hands," he complains and bites you harder , trying to leave a decent hickey, but lacking time and patience to do so. "C'mere, we need to warm you up."
You're guided to wrap your arms around him and lean against his chest as Takuma takes over. His fingers aren't any better, when he slides them between your folds, you have to hide your face against his neck again to stifle the whine. He laughs and uses your own heat to defeat the unexpected temperature play; they're still cool when he slots them deep in you and you grind against them, desperate for more once you've found the long-awaited friction.
"I have something better to ride, you know?" He teases but doesn't allow you to shift your weight and slide off his hand. He stretches you patiently as he listens for possible intruders, his gaze focused over your shoulders. Once you're connected, it will be harder to play innocent, so he awaits a perfect moment, until then deaf to your barely held back cries. Meanwhile, his dick twitches in inattention against your abdomen, precum threatening to stain the skirts of your coat and betraying the real thoughts racing through his head.
He's better at hiding it but he's as pumped as you, maybe even more so with the way his moves change once he's sure no one is going to interrupt you any soon.
"Alright," he breathes into your ear and bites on its shell, until he forces you to make a louder noise. "It's clear. I'm yours."
Seated comfortably and leaning to the back, Takuma spreads his legs to give you the best base. Hooking your calves comfortably under his knees, you straighten and, hands rested against his chest, lift yourself right above his cock. He holds it for you, the other hand sneaking under your coat to grab your hip, and you lose no time, impaling yourself with one smooth move.
Takuma throws his head back, his beanie sliding off his forehead a little and his Adam's apple bobbing as the tries to swallow a groan, "Fuck. How are you always so tight?"
You take one last look around and roll your coat up to your ass, for freedom of movement. Cool air sneaks against your wet thighs and your union when you test the angle and lift yourself a little, so you quickly slot yourself back down, deciding a shallow rhythm is better for today. Takuma's chest shakes with laughter as he helps you make up for the lost inches with upwards thrusts.
"You wanted to do it outside," he teases, his voice husky. "We could go somewhere where wind wouldn't get in our way."
Rolling your eyes, you silence him with a deep kiss. He lets you have the upper hand here but from the shape of his lips you can tell he's still smiling.
Luckily, with the tension building up for hours as you were strolling, naked under your coat, through the city, you don't need much for your pleasure to reach satisfying levels. Being so close, you relentlessly rub your clit against his pubes, a great addition to the race for orgasm against the everlasting risk of getting caught. Just the thought of a possibility sends a new dose of sparks through your nerves, your hole clenching around his cock.
Takuma groans, face half-buried in the crook of your neck, as always following you close. He's right behind when you're reaching your peak, fingers digging sharp into your hip and his thrusts stuttering—just to suddenly freeze.
"Fuck, Y/N, there's— Wait." He tries to force you still, his eyes fixed on something—someone—behind your back.
It's too late for you to stop. If someone is staring, then it's only better; the thought of being watched finally drags you towards the high and you cream around Takuma's cock, a moan sneaking past your hand plastered to your mouth.
You hear someone's steps quickly withdrawing and your boyfriend cursing under his breath right before he fills you up. His hold eases, he lets you slop against him as you both catch your breath—but there's no time for a proper rest, not when you've already been caught once. Your hearts racing and limbs trembling, you both adjust your clothes in hurry.
Before you leave the scene of the crime, you reach for a pocket for tissue, wanting to clean yourself at least a little, but Takuma's hand suddenly catches yours midway.
"Nu-uh, you're walking back home like this," he catches your bottom lip between teeth, nibbling playfully before he leans in for a short but heated kiss. "Let it be a punishment for making me cum in front of that guy."