Draugr

Three

Three:

"Okay, sculptor boy-this can't be as hard as you say," Astrid said, sitting confidently in front of his potter's wheel in his apartment. They were due to move in to their house together at the end of the week and half of his things were already packed but he had finally persuaded Astrid that this would be the perfect time to see just how challenging his profession was. The studio looked bare without his tools and finished pieces-which were already packed safely away.

"Oh really?" he smirked, settling behind her so she was almost sitting in his lap. His warm body was pressed against her back, long arms snaking round her, making her feel enclosed and safe. He had insisted she wore an old T-shirt of his that tended to slide off her shoulder and her oldest pair of jeans-though even those were still newer and better than his best pair. "Okay-normally, you have to practice moulding clay long before you ever get near the wheel so you get used to the feel of the clay, how wet or not it should be to respond in a particular way..."

"I've watched you so many times," she reminded him and he chuckled into her ear.

"I'll quit now, should I?" he teased her. "Because of course that watching you've done for a few months, that's far more effective than years of tuition and practice..."

"You are getting very sassy," she warned him, rolling her shoulders and facing the lump of clay already waiting for her on the wheel. "I am a Hofferson. I don't fear anything-especially not a dumb lump of clay!" His hands slid over hers as he gently led her to touch the clay.

"Just feel it," he said huskily, his voice sending chills down her spine.

"Eurgh..." she murmured.

"Pottery is messy, as is any act of creation," he warned her. "You put your heart and soul into it and you get the result you deserve. Keep the clay moist but not too wet and be gentle but firm enough."

She smiled, her heart swelling with love for him. He was smart and kind and patient but he was incredibly passionate about his art and he had wanted her to at least visit his world...though being Astrid, she had insisted on the complexity of the wheel rather than starting with something easy. But he was warm against her, almost able to feel his heart beating through the thin T-shirt he was wearing as his chest pressed against her back. His soft auburn hair brushed her cheek lightly and his breaths were on her skin as his strong, dexterous and delicate hands moved her fingers into the clay as the wheel began to turn.

"Easy," he whispered. "Think of it as a lover, to be gently coaxed and moulded rather than pounded into submission..."

"Hmm...are we thinking about the same thing?" she murmured lightly as the shapeless lump was nudged into a circular shape and then he guided her to begin to gently create the well that would become the inside of the pot. He splashed water on and her hands slipped, digging into the mass and mis-shaping it, but he moved her hands instinctively to recreate what had been lost, the well almost kissing the wheel as the thick sides began to become attenuated and taller.

"This is the most tricky part," he murmured, his lips brushing her cheek. Her heart fluttered with desire and she leaned back against him, her damp, clay smeared hands gliding over the slick medium as the pot grew and narrowed. She tilted her head and kissed him, his head turning to meet hers and lips connecting. His head dipped and featherlight kisses peppered her cheeks and neck as she arched backwards, his hands sliding up her arms and over to encircle her heaving middle. Her fingers dug into the clay, tearing the fragile shape apart as she turned, clay-covered hands rising to dig into his tousled hair, mouth crashing into his and pouring all her desire and emotion into the contact. His hands, which had gently massaged her sides, cupped her cheeks, smearing them with the grey-white residue as they lost themselves in each other, the clay splattering from the wrecked would-be pot before the wheel slowed and halted.