The Walk Home

The two of you don’t talk much on the way home.

It’s not an awkward silence—it’s the kind of silence that comes after something earth-shattering. The kind of quiet that lingers in the wake of what just happened, where the air between you is still thick with it, still buzzing with the memory of skin against skin, of breathless moans, of reckless, impulsive, mind-numbing sex in an empty classroom.

Liam’s hand is in yours as you walk, fingers interlocked, warm and steady. He squeezes your hand occasionally, and you squeeze back, stealing glances at him from the corner of your eye. He looks just as dazed as you feel—his hair slightly messy, his lips pink from all the kissing, his expression a little glazed over like his brain is still catching up with the reality of what you two just did.

You’re on the subway now, stood next to each other, your hand still in his. You lean your head back, eyes half-lidded as the train rumbles beneath you. The movement is soothing, the gentle rocking, the rhythmic clatter of the tracks—it lulls you into this post-fuck haze, and it’s nice.

It’s very nice.

And then—

Oh.

You feel it.

A slow, warm trickle down your inner thigh.

Your breath catches, your fingers tightening slightly around Liam’s, but he doesn’t notice.

Oh shit.

You subtly shift your legs, feeling the unmistakable slick wetness smeared against your inner thigh, seeping past the hem of your skirt, making its way down your stockings.

Oh god.

There’s no way this is happening.

Your first instinct is to grab your bag, fish for a tissue, anything to discreetly wipe it away—but then you realize that drawing attention to it would be worse. Anyone who wasn’t already looking at you would definitely look if you suddenly started rubbing at your thighs.

So you just... leave it.

It’s filthy. It’s depraved. And it’s kind of hot.

Your cheeks burn as you shift slightly, feeling it cool as it trails lower. The knowledge that it’s his—that he’s still inside you in a way, that you’re carrying the evidence of what you did all the way home—is shamelessly arousing.

But then—

A nudge.

You blink, snapping out of your thoughts as an older woman beside you—maybe in her late 40s, stylish, well-dressed—nudges you with her elbow.

You look at her, and she gives you a knowing wink.

And then—

She glances down.

Your stomach drops.

Your eyes follow hers, and there, clear as day, a visible streak of wetness runs down your thigh, catching the dim subway lights.

Oh. My. God.

You whip your head back up, mortified, but she just smirks. No disgust, no judgment—just that same smug, amused expression like she’s been here before, like she knows.

And then, like it never happened, she turns back to her book.

Liam, completely oblivious, continues staring at the subway map, his thumb absently rubbing against the back of your hand.

You barely manage to keep your composure for the rest of the ride.

By the time you make it back to the dorm, you’re dying to tell him.

Liam flops down onto his bed as you drop your bag onto yours, immediately kicking off your shoes. You turn to face him, arms crossed, trying very hard not to grin too much.

"Liam."

He looks up, lazy and content. "Yeah?"

You point at him. "Guess what happened on the subway."

He blinks, then shrugs. "Uhh… someone smelled weird?"

You huff. "No, you idiot. It’s about me."

Liam frowns slightly, thinking, then shrugs again. "Didn’t notice anything weird."

You stare. "Really?"

"Really."

"Oh my god." You laugh, pressing your hands against your face. "Okay. Well. Let me show you then."

Before he can ask, you turn slightly, lifting the hem of your skirt just enough to expose your upper thigh, your stocking-clad leg—and the now-dried streak running down your skin.

Liam squints. And then—his eyes widen.

"Oh holy shit—"

"YEAH."

He bursts out laughing, sitting up. "Babe. How did I not notice that?!"

"I don’t know!" You giggle, dropping your skirt back down. "But someone else did."

"Wait—" He holds up a hand. "Someone else saw that?!"

"Yeah." You press your lips together, way too amused. "An older woman stood next to me. She nudged me and winked."

Liam loses it.

"She WINKED?!"

"Yes!"

"Oh my god—" He collapses back onto the bed, clutching his stomach. "You just got sex-approved by a subway MILF."

You dramatically flop onto your own bed. "I am forever marked."

Liam is still laughing when he suddenly pauses, looking over at you, his expression turning slightly more serious.

"Hey."

You tilt your head, raising a brow. "Yeah?"

"...Do we have sex too much?"

You blink. "What?"

Liam shrugs, scratching the back of his head. "I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love it, obviously. But like… do we? We had insane sex this morning, and then like, not even a few hours later, we just had to fuck in a classroom."

You smirk. "You're complaining?"

"No!" He sits up, hands raised. "God no. But like, I dunno." He rubs his chin. "Do you think people in love normally fuck this much?"

You stare at him for a second before sitting up, your expression softening.

"Liam." You scoot closer. "We clearly love each other for more than just sex. Like, I adore you, even when you’re being annoying."

He snorts.

"And yeah," you add, grinning, "we have a lot of sex. But that’s because we love it. We love each other. And if we wanna keep fucking like rabbits, then so what?"

Liam exhales, then smiles. "Yeah. Yeah, you’re right."

You lean in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. "Of course I’m right."

He hums, smiling against your lips before pulling back. "...So, what’s for dinner?"

You groan. "Ugh, I dunno."

He stretches. "Wanna just order something? I don’t feel like cooking."

You flop back onto the bed. "God, yes."

"Pizza?"

"Not again."

And just like that, life moves on.

Liam sprawled out on his bed, stretching with a dramatic groan. “Okay. So not pizza.”

You nodded from your own bed, lying on your stomach with your chin propped up on your hands. “Yeah, we just had it two days ago.”

Liam turned his head toward you, smirking. “I mean, technically, we could always have pizza.”

You rolled your eyes. “And technically, I could dump you and go eat something else with my new boyfriend who knows how to make decisions.”

Liam gasped, sitting up. “You wouldn’t.”

You grinned. “Try me.”

He narrowed his eyes, then lunged, tackling you down onto the bed in one swift movement. You squealed, laughing as he pinned you down, his arms braced on either side of you.

“I make decisions,” he declared. “I made the executive decision to bend you over a desk today, thank you very much.”

Your face flushed, and you shoved at his chest. “Oh my god, Liam!”

He just grinned, leaning down to nuzzle his nose against yours. “I’m just saying, I’m very capable of making choices.”

“Okay then.” You huffed, tapping his cheek. “Make a choice. Dinner.”

Liam pulled back, pretending to think. “…Pizza?”

You groaned, pushing at his face. “We just said not pizza!”

He chuckled, rolling off of you and lying beside you on your bed, staring up at the ceiling. “Fine, fine. What about Chinese?”

You made a so-so motion with your hand. “Meh.”

Liam turned his head toward you, raising an eyebrow. “Meh?”

“I don’t know. I’m just not feeling it tonight.”

“Alright, Princess Picky, what are you feeling?”

You hummed, tapping your chin. “Something warm. Something good. Something that makes me feel like I’m being wrapped in a cozy hug.”

Liam squinted. “…Soup?”

You giggled. “Not just soup. Something hearty. Like… I don’t know. Maybe Indian?”

His eyes lit up. “Oh, Indian food would slap right now.”

You grinned. “See? That’s a choice.”

He pointed at you. “And an excellent one at that.”

You grabbed your phone, pulling up the food delivery app as Liam scooted closer, resting his chin on your shoulder as he peered at the screen.

“Ooh, should we get butter chicken?”

“Obviously.”

“And some garlic naan?”

“Duh.”

“What about samosas?”

You turned to face him, your noses almost touching. “Liam. There’s never been a time where I didn’t want samosas.”

He smirked. “And that’s why I love you.”

Your heart fluttered.

You bit your lip, smiling as you added them to the cart. “Okay, what else?”

Liam tapped his chin. “Hmm. Oh! Let’s get that paneer dish you like. The one with the spinach.”

“Palak paneer?”

“Yeah! That one!”

You beamed. “You remembered?”

He gave you a smug look. “Of course I did. You moaned while eating it last time.”

Your eyes widened. “LIAM.”

He cackled.

You smacked his arm, but you were laughing too. “I did not moan.”

“Babe, I was literally there. You took one bite, closed your eyes, and went—” He gasped dramatically, mimicking a sultry moan. “—‘Oh my god, this is so good.’”

Your face burned. “I hate you.”

He grinned. “You love me.”

You rolled your eyes, cheeks still warm. “Alright, I’m ordering before you roast me any further.”

You hit the checkout button, placing the order, and Liam let out a satisfied sigh, flopping back onto the bed. “God, I can’t wait. I’m starving.”

You curled up beside him, resting your head on his chest. “Same.”

His arms wrapped around you instinctively, warm and secure. He kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering there for a second.

“…Hey,” he murmured.

You looked up at him. “Hmm?”

His blue eyes softened. “I really, really love you.”

Your breath caught slightly.

It wasn’t the first time he’d said it, and it wouldn’t be the last—but something about the way he said it, the tenderness in his voice, the sincerity in his gaze…

It melted you.

You smiled, tilting your head up to press a soft, lingering kiss to his lips.

“I really, really love you too.”

Liam sighed happily, pulling you even closer. “Good.”

You giggled, nuzzling into him.

And just like that, the two of you lay there, wrapped up in each other, warm and content, waiting for your food to arrive.