Page 13 of A Winter Crush
He pushed open the door. Wareth already moved around the pottery studio, but he wasn’t at the wheel. Instead, he worked at a table at the back of the room, his broad, muscular back to Ori. Wareth rocked back and forward. Then repeated the movement. Back and forward. Back and forward. The table jolted with each rocking movement.
Ori couldn’t tell what the man was doing at the table—his hands couldn’t be seen from where Ori stood—but his cock perked up. He dropped his hands in front of his quickly hardening cock. Considering Wareth had been horrified by it yesterday, he didn’t think showing it off today would gain Wareth’s approval.
He cleared his throat, and Wareth paused. He turned towards Ori. He frowned.
Undeterred, Ori smiled and walked over to him. “What are you doing?”
“Wedging,” Wareth murmured.
On the table were several balls of clay on a wooden board, a wet linen rag scrunched up next to them. A block of clay sat on the table, bits missing as if they’d been scooped out with Wareth’s big fingers.
Wareth held a lump of clay in his hand.
“What?” Ori asked. He stepped closer to Wareth, who resumed the task. He inhaled, and Wareth’s scent filled his nostrils: smoke, earth, and sweat.
“Wedging,” Wareth repeated but didn’t elaborate.
Wareth rocked back and forward. The clay in his hand was pressed forward and then pulled back with each fluid motion, folds appearing in the clay. Wareth’s big hands worked almost hypnotically. Wareth went about the task for a couple of minutes. Then he patted the clay into a ball and placed it on the wooden board with the others.
“Why do you do that?” Ori asked curiously.
“Gets the bubbles out.”
Silence followed his comment.
“Do you want me to wedge?” It didn’t look too hard to Ori.
“No,” Wareth said with an emphatic shake of his head. “If you don’t get the bubbles out, it might explode in the kiln.”
“Oh.” That didn’t sound good. “What do you want me to do, then?”
Wareth shrugged, not even sparing him a glance.
Ori tried to push down his annoyance. Why wouldn’t Wareth let him help? He looked around, trying to think of something he could do. He walked around the studio, glancing at the shelves. He let out a breath. He felt frustrated and lost.
Maybe I should leave and go home. Wareth doesn’t want me here.
“You can mop,” Wareth said.
“Mop?”
“You know how to mop?”
“Of course.” Ori had never mopped before, no point in the caves. The most he’d done was taken out the furs and woven mats to give them a shake. But he didn’t want to admit that to Wareth. Still, he understood the concept of mopping. “I can mop.”
Wareth didn’t say anything. So Ori went in search of supplies.
“Wait,” Wareth said.
Ori turned towards him.
“You should wear those.” Wareth pointed to a chair. On it were a pair of boots, pants, and a shirt.
“Why do I need those?”
“There are sometimes shattered bits of pottery in the room. You need to protect your feet.”
“But what about the pants and shirt?” he asked.
