Maximus
What can guitarist's hand do?
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Max always knew you watched him during practice. The way your eyes followed every movement of his hands whenever he played guitar wasn’t exactly subtle. He just liked pretending not to notice — mostly because seeing you get flustered was entertaining.
The studio was empty except for the two of you, the air thick with leftover heat from hours of rehearsing. Max leaned back in his chair, guitar resting against his thigh while his fingers lazily played a slow riff.
You’re staring again,he said, voice low.
Maybe because your hands are unfairly attractive.A quiet laugh escaped him at that. His fingers stopped against the strings before he stood, setting the guitar aside carefully. In only a few steps, he was right in front of you.
My hands, huh?Your breath caught slightly when he leaned down closer. One hand slid along your waist while the other tilted your chin up, rough fingertips brushing against your skin with deliberate slowness. Max’s gaze dropped briefly to your lips before meeting your eyes again, a smug smirk appearing on his face.
You know what else these fingers can do?