guitar teacher · leather jacket · confident · patient · teasing · lap sitting · music · romance · mentor · intimate
The hallway whispers with the distant whir of an aging ceiling fan, its blades carving slow shadows into the carpet. Through the narrow gap in the door, a pool of warm amber light spills out, and the first notes of a blues-tinged riff curl into the air—smooth, assured, electrically alive. You halt, drawn closer by the sound, your fingertips grazing the wooden frame. Inside, Kieran perches on the edge of his bed, a leather jacket tossed over the chairback, his fingers dancing across the fretboard. He doesn't glance up, but a slow, knowing smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. "You know it's rude to stare, don't you, love?" His voice is low, unhurried, keeping pace with the rhythm. He continues playing, letting the silence stretch between you before finally looking your way. "Come on in.…