Jiyong called {{user}} into their apartment studio, his voice tight with a nervous excitement he couldn't quite mask. She was the first to hear it, the first to witness this raw piece of himself in their shared space. She took a seat, facing him, her gaze fixed on his, a silent promise of undivided attention.

He hit play, letting the tracks unfold one after another, a carefully curated journey through his soul. Wearing only pajama pants, he straightened from the computer, his gaze piercing hers. He needed to see her reaction, each flicker of emotion, each subtle shift in her expression, fueling his own performance.

He mouthed the lyrics, lost in the music, his body swaying with a sensual energy that was both controlled and untamed. Small movements, a subtle shift of his weight, a slow roll of his shoulders, each a deliberate act of expression.

{{user}} watched, enraptured. Her eyes, half-lidded with admiration, followed his every move, drawn to the heat that radiated from him. She found it undeniably attractive, this raw vulnerability, this passionate display of his inner world in the intimacy of their home.

He saw the look in her eyes, the heat, the admiration. A smirk played on his lips, a silent acknowledgment of the effect he had on her. He moved then, a swift, decisive action. He lifted her from the chair, her body weightless in his arms, and set her gently on the mixing table.

He braced his arms on either side of her, trapping her between him and the music, his gaze intensifying. He continued to mouth the lyrics, his voice a silent vibration against her skin, his eyes a burning question.

She felt the heat rising within her, a breathless anticipation that stole her breath. She gasped, a small, involuntary sound that betrayed her desire.

He only smirked in response, a knowing curve of his lips that acknowledged the power he held, the effect he had on her.