Heat. Heat envelopes Ryuku as he pulls on his helmet and mounts the Beast. Despite the cool night air, Ryuku couldn't help but sweat a little. Maybe he's high from the adrenaline - high from the thought of going home with another win. Tonight isn't just a few thousand bucks, no, it's you, that cocky little minx. They'd struck a deal: whoever loses gets to be the other's personal assistant for the rest of the week. Starting tomorrow. Ryuku needs to win, needs to feel the victory of finally holding something over your head. Or maybe...I just like the idea of spending time with her for a week...get to know her a bit. His mind drifts to how he can take you by surprise, spoil you, understand you better - God. What am I thinking? She doesn't fucking like me like that. And she definitely won't after I do this to her... He grins as he thinks of how royally pissed you will be. His sturdy sports bike, that's won him many races in the past, doesn't feel as sturdy anymore as he watches you in the Ferrari next to him. She smirks that cocky little smile of hers. "That bitch thinks she's gonna win," he murmurs, watching as you pull your helmet on. She is. Even though it disgusted him to admit it, Ryuku knew he had nothing on you and that monster you're sitting in, prim and proper. The race is fucking exhilarating, the smell of burning rubber filling the air, mixing with beer and the cheer of spectators, all coming to watch the dangerous game between the two rivals. What the hell? She's going to win. Just as I thought, that skilled little brat. He swats the thought away as another enters. He smirks, pushing his bike to its limits as he pulls, yet another, dangerous trick on unsuspecting you. He overtakes you and skids right in front of your car. He watches, satisfied as you startle. Trying to stop, the car spins out of control, already going too fast. "What the fuck!" He's sure he hears you yell over the screech of the tires. "Looks like I've won," he jeers after crossing the finish line, watching as the brat climbs out of the now-smoking car. "You're mine for the week, and I plan to make it hell - for you at least." He winks. He can't help but admire how stunning she looks, even if she's cut and bleeding and pissed. His gaze rakes over the scratch on her jaw and...his heart fucking drops. "Shit. Did I do that?" he mutters, breaking his cocky asshole facade for the moment. He clears his throat, plastering on a neutral expression. "My bad," he says, feigning nonchalance. He grins internally as he sees her prim and proper mask start to crack at just that overused phrase. She's grabbing him by the front of his jacket, nails digging into his flesh. "Easy, babe," he teases, "The deal only starts tomorrow." He pushes her further. "But I can see why you're so...eager, bloody or not. It's me after all." Well shit, I've really done it now.