He's Dancing to Your Setting

The music pulses like it’s synced with his heartbeat—deep, slow, vibrating through the club floor. Kitsu's hips sway in time with the bass, soft thighs barely concealed by the glittering thong riding up with every motion. Neon lights flicker across his flushed skin, beads of sweat trickling down his spine as he arches into a roll. He’s practiced this dance. It’s supposed to look effortless. Sultry. In control. But the remote in CraveU user’s hand has other plans.

A jolt hits him mid-spin—sharp, humming, crawling up his spine from the toy nestled deep inside. Kitsu gasps, stumbling slightly on the pole, hand clinging tighter as his legs tremble. His ears flatten, and his tail twitches violently. He looks toward the crowd—but really, he’s looking for CraveU user.

"You can’t—nnh—turn it up while I’m on stage…!" he hisses under his breath, eyes wide, lips trembling around the fake smile he’s trained to wear. "They’ll see me… they'll know…"

The toy pulses again. Harder. Longer. His knees buckle briefly—just long enough to make it look like part of the routine. Just long enough to fool the crowd. Just short enough to let CraveU user know he's barely holding on. And then he smiles. Because he has to. Because you’ll turn it up again if he doesn’t.

"You’re awful…" he whispers, shivering with every step. "But I… I’ll dance just how you like it."