Page 3 of A Winter Crush

But he kept silent, staring at Ori in shock. Deflated, Ori turned and walked out of the studio. When he stepped outside, he looked back. Wareth was already back to work, his shoulders hunched. Ori closed the door.

Is that it, then?

His insides twisted at the thought. Ori had hoped to do more than just say hello. He’d hoped to introduce himself and ask Wareth a question or two. He wanted to learn a little about the human.

But Wareth had been so taken aback that Ori couldn’t bring himself to say anything more or ask him any questions. Clearly, Ori made the man uncomfortable.

I just wanted to get to know him a little and see if there was a connection. A spark. Clearly there isn’t.

His insides twisted at the thought. He began the trek back to his valley. He should just go home and forget all about Wareth. That was the wise thing to do. But Ori couldn’t stand the idea of it just being done.

But what else could he do? Maybe the man was just surprised or taken aback, and not used to strange guests. Perhaps Ori should try again. Maybe he could come back tomorrow. Try to talk to the man again, at least once more.

ChapterThree

Wareth pressed his fingers into the smooth clay, pulling it upwards, guiding it firmly but gently. He repeated the action, and with each pull, the clay walls grew higher and thinner. Wareth lost himself in the simple rhythm. A rhythm he’d spent hours, days, and years of his life doing.

Working the clay kept him grounded. Working always brought him a sense of peace, like he was in his own private sanctuary away from the chaos of the world. He shook his head.

It’s just clay, Wareth. Nothing special about it.

“Hello again.”

Wareth’s shoulders tensed. He looked up and pulled his hands away from the clay. He looked up. The oread stood in his pottery studio, staring at him.

He beamed at Wareth. The light from the now-open door created a glow around him. His smile, like the sun on a summer’s day, aimed straight at Wareth. Wareth felt like he was caught in place, frozen by the radiance of that smile.

Stunning. Beautiful.

It wasn’t like Wareth had never seen an oread before. He lived in Ores. The village had always had a close relationship with the oreads from the valley. But he didn’t see them in his studio. He didn’t see anyone, human or oread, in his studio for that matter. Except for Sariah, but she was his long-time friend and assistant. She was allowed.

Not like this oread, with his silky, long silver hair—decorated with twigs, dried berries, and leaves—that framed his heart-shaped face and fell almost to his waist. And the oread was young. Too young. Wareth would be surprised if he was much older than twenty. Although, oreads did tend to look younger than they were.

Wareth’s gaze drifted down to the oread’s smooth chest. He wore only a loincloth, so his slender body was completely on display. And the loincloth barely covered his cock and balls. It wouldn’t take much to push it aside and reveal what was beneath.

Wareth looked down at the clay on the wheel in front of him. Looking at the clay was safer than gazing at the almost naked oread in his studio. It was like staring at the sun; stare at it too long and you go blind. But harpy’s tits, he wanted to keep staring.

Wareth pressed the edges of his hands to the side of the pottery wheel. He didn’t know what to do. He was not good at talking or interacting, which was why he spent all his time alone in his studio. Sariah took care of all that other stuff. He wiped at a smudge of dried clay on the back of his hand.

Where was Sariah when he needed her? He spared a look to the front room, which functioned as a storage/storefront. She dealt with all the customers, even organising the sale of his wares to Bordertown, since demand in a small village like Ores wasn’t high.

And everyone in the village knew he didn’t deal with people. Everyone went straight to Sariah. Normally people didn’t just walk in and speak to him.

“Sorry to bother you,” the oread said.

Wareth looked up, and his eyes fixed on the oread’s lush dark-grey lips. They suited him perfectly, matching his button nose and bright silver eyes. Wareth wondered if his lips were as soft as they looked.

The oread stepped forward. “I was wondering if I can get a plate?” His voice was soft and had a melodic quality to it.

Wareth frowned. “Do oreads use plates?”

The oread’s smile widened as if pleased Wareth had spoken to him. “Sometimes.” He shrugged. “If we want to.”

“Oh. I thought I heard voices,” Sariah said, walking into the studio and smiling at Ori. “Happy Solstice! I’m Sariah.”

“Oh yes. Happy Solstice, Sariah. I forgot that it’s only a few weeks away.” He glanced at Wareth before looking back at Sariah. “I’m Ori. I am looking for a plate.”

“Very good,” she said. “Come through to the store. That’s where we keep all the finished work. I say store, but really, it’s more a cramped, messy storage room.” She laughed and walked through the doorway. “I need to organise it!”