#kuzuryu

You nod, even though the knot in your stomach tightens. You say goodbye to the girl with a quick glance, as if you want to hold on to her calm, and get into the passenger seat. The engine roars to life, and suddenly, the sensation of being in a car again feels unreal, as if you were dreaming of a lost normalcy.

The man next to you starts the car without a word. His firm hands grip the steering wheel, his eyes fixed on the road. You don't know if you should talk to him or if it's better to keep silent. The atmosphere feels heavy.

You swallow hard and finally decide to try to break the invisible barrier.

“Sir…” you say, barely a whisper. Kuzuryu's dark glasses turn toward you for an instant, and that's enough to quicken your pulse. “Do you know what kind of game it is?”

“Clover,” he replies in a dry voice, without needing further explanation.

Your heart skips a beat. That means it will be a team game. You automatically glance sideways at the man driving, thinking that, whether you like it or not, you’ll have to trust him to survive. And you're not sure that's a good idea.

The journey feels longer than it should. As soon as you arrive at the location, Kuzuryu doesn't stop immediately; instead, he starts circling in search of a parking spot. Seriously? In a world where people are dying in twisted games, does it really matter to park the car properly? Inside, impatience boils within you, but he continues with that exasperating calm, as if what he's doing makes any sense.

He finally finds a parking lot and carefully parks the car. Not a wheel out of place. You sigh and get out, following him in silence.

The building in front of you looks like a cheap motel: a discreet facade, unlit signs, an inherently uncomfortable atmosphere. You cross the entrance; in the lobby, a table waits for you with cell phones and collars. You take yours, feeling the cold metal on the skin of your neck, and glance sideways as Kuzuryu does the same, without a sign of annoyance.

You are the last ones to arrive. As soon as you step forward, a mechanical, overly friendly female voice fills the place.

“Dear players, we present to you the Lap Dance game.

The rules are simple. You must team up with another player and enter one of the rooms for five minutes. One person gives the lap dance, and the other cannot touch. Sensors detect any extra movement. If the person receiving the lap dance touches their partner's body, their collars explode.

The pair that manages to become most aroused without the receiver touching their partner wins.

The game system, through the collar, assesses the level of arousal and control. The worst scores die.”

Your hands immediately sweat, and your stomach churns. It can't be that your test is something so absurd... and so intimate. Your heart pounds, and you glance at Kuzuryu. He remains impassive, serious, as if what was just said was nothing more than a formality. How can he be so calm? Doesn't he understand what a lap dance means? Of course, he understands... he's not that old.

Even so, your discomfort is so great that you need to be sure. You move a little closer and face him.

“So... are we teaming up?” you ask, your voice barely trembling.

His gaze rests on you with unsettling calm. He just nods, wordlessly. That small action makes you feel as if you had asked permission to take him to bed. The mere thought makes your body react with an uncomfortable and treacherous tingle.

The others argue among themselves, nervous, looking for partners. You take advantage of the moment to try to plan something, anything that gives you a shred of hope.

“Do you have any strategy in mind?” you ask, forcing yourself to sound calmer than you are.

“I cant dance” he replies coldly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

You swallow and force a smile.

“Thats okay... just worry about keeping your hands to yourself.”

Inside, you feel the ground moving beneath your feet, even if you outwardly appear confident. The truth is, the nerves are suffocating you.

You choose a room, and the door closes behind you with a dry click. The atmosphere is stifling: red lights on the walls, a strong scent of cheap incense, and in the center, the only available piece of furniture. It's not a bed, nor is it a chair. It's a tantric sofa. Just seeing it makes your throat dry.

Kuzuryu settles down without hesitation, reclining calmly as if none of this affects him. You approach with unsure steps, feeling your skin hot and your breath coming in short gasps.

You end up climbing onto his lap, immediately feeling the firmness of his body beneath yours. From that position, you see him differently: his strong jaw, his glasses reflecting the lights, the impeccable poise of someone who never loses his composure and, yet, lying back like that, he looks damnably attractive. The idea arouses you more than you'd like to admit.

No, you remind yourself. He has to be aroused, not you.

“You... you can put your hands behind your h-head” you say in a thin, stuttering voice. You hate yourself for sounding so nervous, but you can't find another way to say it. “It’s safer to keep them there and not at your sides.”

He obeys without a word, his long arms flexing as he interlaces his hands behind his neck. That simple gesture makes his chest look more defined beneath the fabric of his shirt, and the air catches in your throat.

The timer starts counting down. You take a deep breath and let the sensual music coming from the speakers set your rhythm. At first, you move slowly over his legs, feeling the friction that immediately awakens a tingle in your intimate area. You slide down until you are seated on his hips, resting your hands on his hard chest.

Kuzuryu fixes his eyes on yours. For the first time, you see something more than coldness: there is hunger. You are on top of a man who, though serious and solemn, seems mesmerized by you.

“You'd better look away” he murmurs suddenly, shifting his gaze to the ceiling. His breathing begins to become irregular.

“You just have to worry about not touching me,” you whisper, though your voice cracks. “Remember, we only win if you…”

“I know,” he interrupts, in a harsher tone than before. He knows perfectly well that he must get aroused and keep his hands still. “But if you keep calling me Sir, I won't be able to control myself.”

Your cheeks burn. The view you have of him is intoxicating. You are already so needy for his touch, but you know that a single brush of his hand would make your heads explode. So, without stopping your dance, you cross one leg, turn, and then the other, ending up with your back to Kuzuryu.

You hold onto his knee for balance as you rock back and forth over the growing hardness between his legs. The heat in your intimate area intensifies; the moisture betrays you. You know he notices it.

“The rules don't say you can't enjoy it” he comments calmly, as if talking about anything.

That tone, so controlled and charged with tension, makes your skin crawl. You turn around again and face him. His hands tremble behind his head, his jaw is rigid, and his dark gaze seems to devour you.

“Your... your bulge down there…” you say, but you force yourself to cut the sentence short, looking ahead and trying to normalize your breathing. “It's killing me.”

“I told you not to call me Sir” he replies, this time more gravely.

“I'm sorry…” you murmur, feeling vulnerable.

You move over him again, and the direct contact between his hard member, pressed into his pants, and your clitoris draws an involuntary moan from you.

“Shit… keep doing that” he sighs, his voice broken. “Look at me while you do it.”

You obey. You face him as your hips rub against him, each brush drawing sparks of pleasure from you. Kuzuryu scans you from head to toe, his lips part slightly, and his arms tense, showing prominent veins beneath the skin. That image, so raw and powerful, is enough to make you moan again.

You repeat the movement, again and again, until pleasure takes over you. You can no longer silence the moans escaping your mouth.

“Keep going… don't stop” he orders in a hoarse whisper.

The tension in your lower abdomen builds without restraint. You glance at the timer: only seconds left. You smile, not knowing if its from the pleasure or the certainty of survival. You move with more force, more pressure, until the wave completely washes over you. Your body trembles, your mind goes blank, and an orgasm shakes every fiber of you.

You collapse onto his legs, panting, your cheeks burning. You can't believe it: you reached climax just by dancing on top of a man you barely know.

The timer reaches zero. The silence is heavy as you wait for the results. You close your eyes in fear when you hear distant explosions. Eternal seconds pass until the cell phone screens light up.

Winners.

Air rushes back into your lungs. A smile forms on your face, even though your breathing is still ragged. Then, suddenly, a slap on your butt makes you let out a surprised gasp. You turn your head toward him. His gaze is still dark, burning, and you can still feel his hardness beneath your body.

“I've wanted to do that since you put that ass in the car” he says, his voice low and dangerous.

You get up from his lap, your legs trembling, trying to rearrange your clothes and control the breath that is still escaping in gasps. Your cheeks are still burning, and you avoid looking at him too much, as if acknowledging what you just did in front of him would make everything too real.

You both exit the hotel in silence. The fresh night air is not enough to dissipate the heat you still feel on your skin. You walk to the parking lot without exchanging a word, though every step feels charged with unbearable tension.

Upon reaching the car, Kuzuryu steps ahead and opens the rear door. He stands waiting, watching you in silence. It takes you a second to understand the invitation, and when you do, a nervous smile escapes you. You get into the car and settle down. He gets in behind you, and as soon as he locks the door, the air changes.

There are no doubts. You launch yourself onto him, and he meets you with a hungry, almost desperate kiss. His tongue invades your mouth while your body trembles with anticipation. You move one of your hands toward his member, which is still hard beneath the fabric. The simple contact makes you groan against his lips.

With clumsy fingers, you pull down his pants and free him. His penis pulses at your touch, and your breathing accelerates. You lean in, bringing your face toward him, eager, but his grave voice stops you.

“No” you look up at him, and his dark gaze cuts off your breath. “Ride me again.”

Your pulse races, but you obey. You take off the shorts you were wearing as a bikini and climb onto his lap, your skin ablaze with expectation. You're still sensitive from your previous orgasm; you know you dont need any more preparation.

Kuzuryu places a firm hand on your waist, and with the other, he aligns his penis at your entrance. The moment he pushes you down, slow but decisive, draws a muffled gasp from you. Your walls stretch around him, filling you to the core.

You cling to his shoulders, trying to steady yourself as the sensation of fullness disarms you. Your whole body vibrates with every inch that penetrates you.

He takes your hips forcefully and begins to guide your rocking motion. Each thrust is an electric shock coursing through your veins, drawing moans that fill the confined space of the car.

“Do you like it?” he asks, looking directly into your eyes.

“Yes, Sir…” you reply without thinking. The word draws a dark, almost dangerous expression from him.

Kuzuryu loses what little control he had left and begins to move harder, penetrating you without mercy. You scream his name, again and again, with pleasure tearing through you like fire. He clenches his jaw, biting his lips to contain the growls that still escape him between ragged breaths.

You kiss him desperately, as if you could steal his air while your body bounces against his. Every time you close your eyes, the fantasies that crossed your mind during the game seem lacking. None compare to having him now, inside you, moving you as if you were his.

The orgasm hits you suddenly, it's shattering. It makes you clench tightly around him. Your moans break against his mouth, and your entire body trembles in his embrace. That spasm drags him along with it: a deep growl leaves his chest as his semen fills your insides, the pressure of his hands on your hips pinning you further against his pelvis.

You stay that way for a moment, pressed together, breathing heavily, trying to return to the real world. When you finally manage to pull away, you get off his lap and look for your clothes, your legs still shaky. You dress quickly, your fingers trembling, and settle into the front seat.

Kuzuryu also moves to the front, buckling his seatbelt again. He starts the engine while you lower the visor mirror to fix your hair and disguise the signs of your agitation.

“Have you chosen your room at the hotel yet?” he asks with a naturalness that clashes with what just happened.

“No, Sir” you reply, knowing well how he likes to be called.

A slight curve forms on his lips.

“You can sleep in mine.”

SLAP!

The sound was loud, jarring even. Your voice caught in your throat, a stuttered gasp being the only thing to slip out.

You were bent over, back arched while your chest pressed against the couch. It wasn't the ideal place nor position, but you made it work. You stumble out his name in suprise, your ass stinging lightly where his palm just was.

"What? I told you to bend more and you didn't," he responds, voice ever sure as if that was the only reasonable answer. You open your mouth to say something but his hand is quickly brought down to make contact with your skin again.

You whine loudly, turning your face to shove it into the cushions, legs gently shaking to keep yourself up. "See, that's better! Christ, didn't know it was that hard to get you to listen."

His hand smoothes over the irritated skin, a shade darker from the impact. He kisses down your back, not in a soft or gentle way, but possessively, the way someone would when they know they have complete control.

"Learn how to act," he reprimands before biting into your shoulder gently, chest pressed into your body from above. "Or don't, I'm more than willing to give you reminders."

‿̩͙⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿̩͙

Kinktober in November..? GULP, yeah I suck, hang me ig...

But hey we're gonna do it!! Eventually..! ALSO OML I NEED TO WRITE FOR FUYUHIKO BECAUSE LIKE AUGHHH HES SO MHHHMHH

TAGLIST - @fayewebluv @makiirolll @chamomilesweettea @ask-all-danganronpa @ultimate--bassist @cloverybliss @lunalunatics9