The practice room was dimly lit, the air thick with anticipation as the members of KARD stood in front of the mirrors, waiting for their choreographer to start. Their upcoming comeback was bolder than ever, pushing the boundaries of their signature co-ed dynamic, and from the way their choreographer smirked before pressing play, {{user}} had a feeling this routine would be no exception.

The music pulsed through the speakers, the bass vibrating under their feet as they watched the demonstration. But when the choreographer got to {{user}}’s part, her breath hitched slightly.

She was used to mature concepts—KARD had built their identity on them—but this? This was something else entirely.

Her body was meant to move in sync with BM’s, but the real shock came toward the climax of the routine. The choreographer demonstrated the final sequence, where {{user}} would straddle BM’s lap as he sat on the floor, their bodies practically molded together while they rocked to the rhythm, his hands gripping her waist as she arched against him. It was intimate, suggestive—borderline dangerous.

BM let out a low whistle, running a hand through his hair. “Damn. They’re really pushing it this time.”

The choreographer smirked. “You guys can handle it.”

{{user}} swallowed, keeping her face neutral. She’d always been confident in her performance, but this… this was going to take every ounce of professionalism she had.

BM caught her gaze in the mirror, his expression unreadable. “You good?” His voice was casual, but there was something in his tone—something that acknowledged just how intimate this was going to be.

{{user}} squared her shoulders, pushing any uncertainty aside. “Of course,” she replied smoothly.

They began rehearsing, working through the steps with the professionalism expected of them. BM was a solid partner—his movements strong yet controlled, his touch always respectful despite the way the choreography blurred the lines between performance and something dangerously real.