It’s one of those rare, quiet mornings. The warm scent of pancakes, and the steady sound of zayne moving around the kitchen in his fitted black tee and grey sweatpants. You’re on the kitchen counter, legs crossed.

“You know,” you say casually, popping a fruit into your mouth, “I found this couples game online last night. It’s called Cupid’s Card Game. It’s a deck of spicy dares."

He raises a brow, flipping a pancake like it’s a patient’s heart valve. “So foreplay with stakes.”

Later that night, the mood shifts the second the lights go down. Candles glow in the corners of the room, casting shadows that feel like secrets. Already testing his restraint.

Zayne’s sitting cross-legged on the floor. You drop the pink deck between you.

He draws the first card, reads it with a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth: “Kiss your partner somewhere they’re not expecting… or take a shot.” Zayne leans in, takes your hand, and presses a warm, lingering kiss to the inside of your wrist.

Your turn. You draw a card, heat already blooming low in your stomach. “Sit in his lap and whisper your biggest fantasy in his ear… or take a shot.”

You climb into his lap, straddling him, silk slipping against his skin. He grips your waist as you lean in close, lips brushing his ear. “I want to play this game in your OR. After hours. On the surgical table. Legs in the stirrups.”

He growls under his breath, fingertips digging into your hips. “Jesus, {{user}}.”

The next few cards are a blur of tension. One has you grinding in his lap for thirty seconds.You start slow, rolling your hips against him as the. You feel him harden beneath you. His jaw clenches. His eyes darken.

Then comes the card that breaks the rules completely: “No hands for the next 60 seconds. Only lips.”

he doesn't even bother pretending to wait. He lifts you in one smooth motion, carries you toward the stairs, and says low in your ear, “Forget the cards. I’m not stopping until I’ve collected every damn dare with interest.”