Rafayel was pressed against your back from behind, frame looming over yours as his breath brushed against your ear. He guided your hand movement with his own, leading your hand that held the paintbrush along the canvas. In the middle of completing yet another private lesson with your professor.

“We’ve made quite a bit of progress. Well done, ma petite artiste.” He compliments, smile on his lips as he pulls away. The warmth against your back disappeared with his body. It had caused you to miss his touch just a bit.

“Do you want to stop there for today?” He asked, feeling your eyes follow him as he went to rinse the paintbrush off. Using a finger to push his glasses up his nose bridge.