Domestic - Viktor

Viktor’s knees are absolutely smeared with clay as he works his hands around the bowl he’s shaping. Using his fingers, he draws the top part carefully in before presenting it to you proudly.

“It’s a heart,” He grins, “For my heart.”

You bite your cheek to stop the laughter that threatens to bubble over.

“Well, that’s all well and good…” You glance down at your own monstrosity, “I’m pretty sure mine is just a lump, though. A leaning lump, at that.”

“Or a very artistic interpretation of a rock,” He quips, “Keep your thinking positive.”

He snickers at your expression as he stands, moving behind you and crouching down. He gets very close, his chest to your back, reaching around your waist without hesitation. He takes your hands in his, and his breath is warm on your neck when he speaks.

“Let me show you.”

You swallow hard. It feels like the temperature in the room spiked to ninety, but that might also be the portable space heater pressed against you. Perks of dating a draca, you suppose, until you end up hot and bothered in the ceramics workshop.

“Careful or you’ll be showing me something else,” You grin, glancing back to catch his eye roll.

“Haha,” He says, totally deadpan, “Funny joke.”

“Who said I was joking?”

“We are not fucking in the place I have class every Monday and Wednesday.” He says firmly, “I would literally never be able to pay attention again.”

“Fine, then.” You huff, “Help me turn my artistic rock into something pretty.”

That he does, and he does it well. Guiding your hands carefully, he makes a simple vase. He works with a confidence and ease in his craft that would annoy you if it wasn’t kind of hot. Yes, you’re awful at this, but he’s not and his concentrating face is horribly attractive.

You also feel kind of accomplished, too, in a way. After all, he might’ve been guiding them, but your hands still technically made this.

“Can you carve a dragon in it?” You lean back against him, “A little cartoon one, with horns like yours.”

“Your wish is my command,” Viktor says, twirling a loop tool in his hand.

He free hands it quickly, so it’s a little ugly but in an adorable way. His chin rests on your shoulder as he works, and you lean back against him to get comfortable.

“Ta-da,” He mutters next to your ear, gesturing down at the little guy.

“Cute,” You say, “Like you.”

“Flatterer.”

You twist around and kiss the very tip of his nose, “Always.”

He leans back, “I’ll get these off the wheel and in the kiln, then we can head back.”

“And shower,” You say plainly, “I have clay in places I never imagined having clay. Like all over my back, because someone leaned against me.”

“You enjoyed it,” He scoffs.

“I did,” You relent almost immediately, “Yeah, that’s true.”

You watch him carefully as he works to get your pieces off the wheels. Yours really does look ridiculous, which endears you to it all the more. As you exit the Arts Center, you find yourself thinking of someone who might love it even more.

“If we glaze it, do you think I could talk your dad into putting it on the mantle?” You smirk.

“No,” He says immediately, “He already has enough of our awful, half-assed art displayed in the house-“

You’re already texting Mr. Orlov before Viktor can finish getting the sentence out.