Page 21 of A Winter Crush

“Thanks.” Ori jumped out. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Wareth,” he said as he dashed out the door, disappearing into the night.

Instantly, the room felt colder and quieter, like the joy had been sucked from it.

He was alone in his studio.

Just how he liked it.

But for the first time in years, Wareth found himself wishing he weren’t alone, wishing instead for a smiling oread filling his home with his warm presence and bubbly laughter.

Ori’s wonky attempt at pottery sat on the wheel in front of him. It really should be thrown away and recycled. He reached out to pull the sad piece off the wheel and throw it in the bucket. He hesitated.

Instead, he picked up the string and pulled the wire along the wheel, separating Ori’s creation from it. He then carefully put Ori’s creation on the wooden board and covered it with a cloth. He stood and placed it on the shelf.

ChapterThirteen

“That’s it. Gentle now,” Wareth murmured, his gravelly voice a caress in Ori’s ear. “Good. Now pull up the sides. Keep your fingers firm but gentle.”

Wareth leaned closer to Ori, so close Ori smelt his earthy, musky scent. Ori tried to focus on the wet clay spinning between his fingers, but Wareth was making it difficult.

Darkness had descended outside the studio, and they’d finished working for the day. Now Ori was allowed to practice throwing.

Throughout the day, Ori had yearned to have another go on the wheel. But now that the time had come, it felt like an exquisite agony. Ori was hyper-aware of Wareth, of every movement, every shift in his seat, every grumbled word he spoke.

“Good,” Wareth said. “That’s good, Ori.”

Ori suppressed a shudder at the sound of his name on Wareth’s lips. He imagined that was how Wareth sounded in bed.

In his mind, Ori lay on his back, Wareth leaning over him. They both wore nothing. Wareth took Ori’s hand and guided it to his hard, dripping cock. Ori would wrap his hands around his throbbing member. Wareth urged him on, instructing him on how best to please him in his deep, rumbly voice.

Ori’s breathing sped up, and his stomach tightened. Wareth had no idea what he did to him. If he did, Ori doubted he would continue.

“Careful now. Stay focused,” Wareth said.

How was Ori meant to focus?

“That’s good,” Wareth said, hot breath brushing against Ori’s ear. “Just like that.”

Ori’s breath hitched. His fingers spasmed, and he put too much pressure on the sides. The form collapsed. He pulled his foot off the disk.

“Blizzard’s piss!” he cursed. He grabbed the clay, tugged it off the wheel, and threw it into the bucket beside him, joining his other failed attempts.

“You were getting better there. You just need to stay focused,” Wareth said, standing. “Keep practising. I’m going to pull some handles.”

Ori reached for a new lump of clay, slapping it on the centre of the wheel. He needed to focus. Not lust after Wareth. He couldn’t get better at pottery if he kept getting distracted. Whilst not having Wareth watching him might allow for Ori to actually concentrate, unfortunately pulling handles was surprisingly erotic.

Wareth formed the wedged clay into a carrot-like shape. Then with his big hand, all wet, Wareth pulled along the clay, coaxing the length downwards, sliding his hands with firm, smooth strokes.

Ori had never thought pottery was so sensual. He couldn’t tell if it normally was this sexy, or if it was just Wareth and the fact that Ori tended to imagine Wareth working Ori as he did the clay. He wondered what Wareth would look like covered in wet clay.

Sometimes, Ori thought about smothering the man’s hairy chest in it, rubbing downwards, slathering the man’s cock in it. He’d be all slippery and wet. Ori would stroke him. Then he’d lick the clay off.

Ori grimaced. Ori wouldn’t actually do that. Clay tasted disgusting. Like dirt. He’d tasted it. Accidentally. Still, he definitely wanted to slather Wareth in clay. Get him all messy and then cover himself in clay. They could roll around together, gasping and moaning as their slick clay-covered bodies rubbed against each other. Then Wareth would wrap his big hand around both their cocks and jerk them off.

Stop it! This isn’t helping. I’ve just got to put all my attention on the clay.

He looked away from Wareth. At least the breeches and too-big shirt hid his almost constant state of arousal. He placed his foot on the disk and kicked his foot backwards. The wheel spun. Firmly but gently, he wrapped his hands around the wet clay.

I’ve got to centre it. Pay attention. Focus. Show Wareth you can do it.