The massage room in Joon-ho's apartment felt different tonight. The low golden light spilled over gleaming wood and linen, shadows dancing on the ceiling. Outside, the city was muted, its pulse a faint hush behind the double-paned windows. But in here, everything vibrated with a different energy—intimate, expectant, raw.
Harin was already on the padded table, her hair loose, cheeks flushed from laughter and anticipation. She'd shed her robe with no pretense, reclining naked on the linen, legs parted just enough to tease, arms outstretched. The little smirk on her lips told him she knew exactly what she was doing. "Come here, oppa. I want all of you tonight."
