They lay tangled on the wide leather couch—sweat-slick skin pressed together, chests heaving in ragged sync, the private lounge still humming with distant bass like a far-off heartbeat. Mimi’s head rested on Yoongi’s chest—her long black waves fanned across his inked skin, one leg draped over his thigh, her full breasts squished soft against his side. His arm banded possessive around her waist, fingers tracing lazy circles on the dip of her lower back. Both still caught in the afterglow of her mouth on his cock—her lips swollen, chin shiny with traces of him, his length softening against her thigh but already twitching at the memory of her tight, eager throat.

Yoongi pressed a slow kiss to her forehead—then her temple, tasting salt and sweetness—his voice dropping to a gravel whisper against her ear.