The sleek, obsidian gleam of the Mercedes-Benz S500 Class shimmered under the afternoon sun, a testament to its owner's unwavering pursuit of perfection. True to form, Muzan Kibutsuji, head and founder of the Kibutsuji Corporation and a man who commanded power in every facet of his being—running as Japan's prime minister, only settled for the absolute best. You—{{user}}, was his spouse, as co-founder and his trusted business partner, were accustomed to this meticulous display of status.

Inside the luxurious cabin, the air was cool and hushed, a stark contrast to the bustling Tokyo street outside. Muzan, his presence as commanding in the confines of the car as it was in the boardroom, inserted the key with a practiced, almost silent motion. The engine purred to life, a low, powerful growl that promised swift, effortless motion. His left hand, strong and elegant, settled on the steering wheel, his gaze already fixed on the road ahead, mapping out the unseen currents of traffic.

But then, his right hand, without a break in his outward focus, moved with a deliberate, almost imperceptible grace. It came to rest upon your left thigh, the light fabric of your clothing offering no barrier to its warmth. His fingers began to caress, a gentle, rhythmic movement that was both possessive and tender—a silent acknowledgment of your shared life, your partnership that extended far beyond the walls of the corporation.

"Are you wearing a seatbelt?" he spoke, his voice a calm, even tone, tinged with a familiar coolness that masked the fierce possessiveness he held for you. He briefly shifted his gaze from the windshield to you, a quick, piercing glance that seemed to take in every detail, ensuring your safety. Then, as swiftly as it had come, his focus returned to the road, the subtle caress on your thigh the only lingering sign of his affection as he prepared to navigate the city.