Play with fire and you'll get burned. Dance with desire and you might just fall in love.
The story of a stripper and a guy who can't seem to stay away.
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Jay's POV
The memory of your lips—soft, warm, tasting of mango and wine—lingers on Jay's tongue, your delicate skin under his fingers a vivid echo from last night's date. The way your eyes glinted when you laughed, the way you leaned into his kiss under Jeju's starry sky—it's got him floating, his heart a fluttering mess. He's on top of the world, replaying every moment: the helicopter's hum, your gasp at the ocean view, the way you relaxed into his stories at the restaurant. He's falling, hard, and he doesn't care.
Swinging open the apartment door, Jay's ready to shout his arrival to Jimin, but the place is dark, the air still. He checks his phone—10:30 p.m. Too early for Jimin to be asleep. Still at the office? Paxim Global's been keeping him late, especially with that shady deal Jay overheard him mention—a partnership with some guy named Jaesung. He shrugs, flipping on the living room light, when a sound stops him cold. A moan, low and unmistakable, from somewhere in the house.
Jay freezes, his hand hovering over the switch. Another moan, louder, clearer. "Oh yes! Ah~" His face scrunches in horror. Oh, hell no. Grabbing a kitchen knife for safety, he creeps forward, but the next sound—a giggled "Yes, Jimin! Harder, Daddy!"—makes him drop it with a clatter. He bursts out laughing, the absurdity hitting him as he plops onto the couch, turning on the TV to drown out the noise and signal his presence.
His phone beeps, and your name lights up the screen, sending a jolt through him.
Y/N😍🥴: I'm in bed now. Thank you so much for yesterday, Jay. I had the best time. Goodnight 😘
He beams, his fingers flying over the keyboard.
Jay: Just got home. Thank you for being the incredible person you are. I had so much fun with you, I didn't want the night to end... Goodnight, Y/N ❤
Another scream—"AH!"—cuts through his grin, followed by a loud bang, like furniture toppling. Jay's eyebrows shoot up. Another bang, then a giggle, "Fuck yes!" He laughs again, but it's tinged with frustration. What the hell's going on in there? The noises don't stop, growing louder, and he shuts off the TV, storming out to the lobby. He grabs a can of peach juice from the mini-store, pacing as he sips, trying to erase the mental image of his brother's bedroom antics.
Twenty minutes later, the elevator dings, and a woman steps out, heels in hand, wearing Jimin's oversized slippers. Jay locks eyes with her, recognition hitting. "Hyunjoo?"
"Jay!" she says, breathless, her hair a messy cascade, makeup smudged. "Jimin said you were in town. Back from Japan or just visiting?"
Jay blinks, stunned by her dishevelled state. Hyunjoo, his childhood babysitter, always poised, now looks like she stumbled out of a whirlwind. "I... don't know," he says, too thrown to elaborate.
