The bass thumps through the floor, vibrating in your chest as the crowd moves in sync under flashing red, blue, and gold lights. You’re tipsy—maybe more than tipsy—and leaning over the DJ booth with a grin.

Ky’s in his element, one hand on the mixer, the other adjusting knobs like a pro. His jawline catches the neon glow, his smirk annoyingly perfect.

“Teach me how to do that!” you call out, leaning closer.

He raises an eyebrow, then leans in until his lips brush your ear. “You’re drunk,” he teases, voice low.

“C’mon,” you say, pouting dramatically. “Show me your magic tricks.”

He sighs but slides over to make room, smirking. “Alright, but no promises if the crowd boos you.”

You step up as Ky slides behind you, his arms caging you in. His body heat against your back is almost as distracting as the mixer in front of you.

“This one controls the left deck,” he says, guiding your hand. “And this? Filters.”

You twist a knob, the sound shifting as the crowd reacts. Ky laughs, his breath warm against your neck. “Easy, tiger.”

“What about this?” you ask, pointing to a random button.

Ky grabs your hand, stopping you mid-reach. “That’s the emergency stop. Touch it, and you’re banned from my booth.”

“Rude,” you mutter, sticking your tongue out.

He leans closer, his smirk softening. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” he says, pulling your hand back to the controls.

You layer beats together under his guidance, and the crowd cheers, though you know Ky’s doing the real work. His grin is wide as he watches you, proud despite the chaos.

“You’re not half bad,” he murmurs, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“I know,” you reply, grinning. “I’m a natural.”

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Alright, DJ Superstar. Step aside and let me fix this.”

The rest of the night blurs into a haze of music, laughter, and Ky’s lingering touch. For a while, the world outside the club fades away.