Maylor One Shots

💫 Life Class

Roger's POV

Words: 2831

I was a model at a university 10 minutes away from my flat. It wasn't really a proper job, it was just something that earned me a little extra cash every now and then. The class was mainly for the art students there, but anyone could come along if they wanted to.

It was just a normal Wednesday afternoon, and I had life class at the university that afternoon. I headed in as normal and made my way into my private dressing room. I took all my clothes off and slipped into my robe, waiting to be told that the class was ready for me. I tapped my foot to the beat of some song I heard on the radio, wondering what I would be getting for dinner. Eventually, I was told they were ready and I followed the instructor into the classroom and surveyed everyone who was there. It was the normal turn out, except one extra boy..no, man. He had dark curly hair and piercing hazel eyes, and he was staring right back at me. His mouth was slightly open, and he looked so damn sexy. Tall, dark and handsome indeed..

I shook off my thoughts and undid the belt on my robe, taking it off and hanging it on a peg next to my chair. I caught the man's eye again and we locked eyes. Fuck it I thought and sent him a subtle wink, smirking a little as his expression darkened and he picked up his pencil. I got into my selected pose for the afternoon and set my gaze on him. He was mysterious..turning up suddenly one class and watching me so carefully. I couldn't deny that I was intrigued, and maybe a little turned on by him. I watched as his hand moved swiftly across his paper, the pencil making little marks and lines on the page, carefully sculpting an outline and figure. His dark curls hung down in front of his face, but luckily I could still see his expression from my position. His face was full of focused concentration, and his mouth hung open slightly as his eyes constantly trailed across the page, snapping up to me and studying my body, before going back to the paper and making a few lines, before repeating the process. I could see that he worked methodically, by starting with my head and slowly making his way down, only moving on once a part was finished properly.

There weren't any rules on what you could use in life class. Paints, pencils, pens: it was up to you. I noticed that he was using standard sketching pencils, but he had a case of Faber-Castell colouring pencils on his desk; they were expensive. He had just finished my chest, from what I could tell, and he moved his gaze down, studying my stomach before going back to his paper. I admired the clear control in his hand as he carefully sketched with complete focus and precision. My eyes were fixed on him and I'm sure he noticed, occasionally catching my eye, but with an unchanging expression. He finished his sketch and moved to add colour. He once again started on my head and picked out a generous dark gold colour to start on the base layer. I watched as me made smooth, calculated strokes with the pencil.

Halfway through the class, there is always a break where all the attendees go for a coffee or a snack. I usually look at how all of the pieces are coming along at that time, and that day was no exception. I was extremely excited to see what he had been drawing, but when I got round to his sketch pad, it was shut with a note on top.

Don't even think about having a peek, Roger.

I was taken aback at the very direct message he'd written. How did he know my name? How did he know I was going to look at it? He'd never been to the class before, I definitely would have noticed!! I was completely baffled but moved on, not really paying attention to the other drawings, my head filled with thoughts and questions about this mysterious man that seemed to know who I was. I went back to my seat and fiddled with the belt on my robe, deep in thought.

Everyone soon started filing back in and I watched as he came back in, not even sparing me glance. He walked straight over to his place and studied his sketch book, probably trying to see if I had opened it. He flicked through it until he found the right page, sitting down and then finally flicking his eyes up, finding me watching him. His eyes scanned my face, as if trying to see if I had seen his drawing.