He wanted to be the center of that focus, to be underneath those strong and skilled hands.
He cleared his throat.
“Now like this.” He pressed Andy’s fingers into the center of the clay, hooking their thumbs over the tops of their other hands. He spun the wheel a little slower than he normally would have so the clay didn’t get away from Andy. And also because he couldn’t keep his concentration when Andy smelled so fucking good right in front of him.
“Wet your fingers more,” he said, releasing one of his hands.
Andy dipped his fingers into the water and returned them to the wheel. He pressed his fingers into the divot they’d made, and Leonidas pumped the pedal faster. He watched the brim of the bowl narrow and take shape as Andy’s strong fingers guided the clay.
Their project finally looked like a bowl, and Leonidas moved their hands, pressing harder now on the outside to draw the edges of the bowl higher. Andy’s shoulders heaved with his breathing, bumping into Leonidas’s chin with every inhale.
“See it now?” he asked quietly. “See what you’ve made?”
“It’s you,” Andy answered him.
“It’s us together.”
The bowl looked mostly like a bowl and Leonidas reached for a scraper, which he passed to Andy.
“You can do this part.” He positioned Andy’s hand inside the bowl, the other against the outer edge. “Don’t push too hard. Just shape it. Help it become what it’s meant to be.”
7
Andy
Andy had made a bowl.
Sort of.
All he knew was he could feel the callouses and the pressure of Leonidas’s hands against his, even though they weren’t close.
Leonidas had pulled him away from the pottery wheel, taking the wine with him. He stepped into a darkened corner of the studio space and leaned against a wall, taking a swig from the bottle. He used the back of his hand to wipe his mouth, and even in the dim light, obscured by the shadows, Andy could see the want in him.
“What should I ask of you now?” Leonidas whispered, almost a taunt.
Andy hoped he didn’t ask too much… because he’d give his man anything.
He didn’t answer, but he studied Leonidas from his bare toes with the tufts of dark hair, to the paint stained sweats that hung low on his hips and the loose, threadbare t-shirt he’d put on. He had strong arms, and deft fingers, which currently wrapped the neck of that wine bottle like it was a lifeline.
“Why don’t you tell me what you want?” Andy suggested.
He’d been with men before, but no one like Leonidas. Even after the time he’d spent in the clubs in Berlin playing the part that felt most like home to him, he’d never had this. Andy had always known he’d liked things a certain way, but he’d never imagined himself to be so obliging to a partner. It was the other side of things that appealed most to him. The control. The dominance.
He smiled, thinking about what Todd would say if he could see Andy now, made so de-constructed and raw by a stranger. Thinking about his life, Andy felt like Todd was the stranger now, which was odd since the two of them had spent so many years together. But their companionship had been based on comfort and expectation, never adventure and never this kind of lust.
Andy and Todd had spent nearly three years involved with each other, and he’d never even bothered to mention him to his brothers with the exception of Brad. He’d been impartial and ambivalent about their relationship, pretending that he didn’t like to rough his partners up because Todd said his grip was too tight, acting like he didn’t appreciate and hunger for the power that came with issuing demands in the bedroom, because Todd was always so tired, so plain.
It was something he should have ended before it began, but he hadn’t, and then it had been one year, and then two, then three, and then Andy’s dad died, and he’d taken the money and the passing for what it truly was for him.
A gift.
He called things off with Todd and broke the news to his brothers he wouldn’t be moving to Cherry Creek, then he’d packed up and taken off, hoping to find some semblance of meaning and desire.
What he’d found, or ratherwhohe’d found, was Leonidas.
“I want to put you in my mouth,” Leonidas answered him finally, holding up his dirty hands. “But my hands are covered in clay.”
Andy took a step closer. “Then you’ll just have to not use them. Put them behind your back.”
