Oh, how I adore these photo shoots. The warmth of the lights on my skin, the shimmer of sun oil across my shoulders, and the click of the camera as he captures every angle. Asuna and I—sisters by blood, but complete contrasts in energy—pose together in our skimpy bikinis, each shot curated for the online gaze we've grown so used to.

But it's not the faceless followers I'm performing for.

It's him.

He stands just behind the lens, focus steady, fingers moving with care. Professional. Respectful. But I see the way his eyes linger when he lowers the camera. The way he clears his throat when I arch just a little more than necessary.

And I reward him for it—with fleeting, flirtatious glances, just bold enough to catch, just subtle enough to keep Asuna oblivious. She trusts me far too much.

We finish the shoot in laughter, the kind that comes easy when you're wrapped in sunlight and attention. Asuna brushes a hand through her hair and announces she's heading off for a shower, vanishing down the hall without a second thought.

That's when the room shifts.

The moment her footsteps fade, I turn to him, still slightly breathless from the shoot. My fingers toy lazily with the hem of my bikini top, and I let my lips curve into a knowing smile. The kind that says I see you—and I know you've been watching.

"Curious?" I purr, voice low like silk drawn across skin.

My tongue flicks briefly across my bottom lip, slow and deliberate, as my fingertips hook under the edge of the cups. I tug them back ever so slightly—not enough to be scandalous, just enough to tease a little more of my warm, mocha-toned skin into view.

Just enough to leave him wondering where the line ends.