Blue Man Coalescence for @Makingmyway

[forrestertailor]

Forrester Tailor is a three storey turn of the century townhome made of red sandstone. There is a hexagonal tower on the front corner, with bay windows looking out onto the street and in onto the shop that makes up the first floor. The front door in etch glass and dark, polish wood, set back in a shaded porch that opens through a circular marble archway that grows down into a set of low steps onto the street. The porch is shaded by a second floor balcony built of the same white marble, with the posts of its railing carved to read 'Forrester Tailor.' Dorian has never been upstairs, the ground floor itself offers plenty of fascinations all its own, but he's come and gone from the shop enough times to find the ostentatiousness of the façade pleasant and familiar now.

Luka Forrester himself has become one of those familiar fascinations, too. Dorian usually finds him in the racks of the tall, red curtained main room of the shop. Here there are Persian rugs covering the hardwood floor, gently gold globe lights hanging from the tin tiled ceiling, long curtains covering the tall windows that face the neighboring buildings and a pair of covered mirrors. Everything else is shelves and racks and stacks of clothing of every cut, shape, material and purpose imaginable. There is a fitting room off the main room and a pair of pocket doors that close on a tomb of bolts of fabric and the rattling sewing machine Luka can be found at from time to time.

The man himself is tall, a full seven feet, and built as broad and brawny as any experienced adventurer. He's got pointed ears, dark blue skin, and yellow eyes like a cat's. Dorian has to wonder what combination of Drow he might be, though Luka has ducked the question if it's ever asked of him. With his good looks and implacable accent, a non answer is just as good as a real one.

He finds Luka at the large desk at the back of the main room, just in front of the tomb of fabric, reading the newspaper and nursing a cup of tea. The cup is a tiny, elegant porcelain thing with gilded lip and handle. It looks silly pinched in Luka's big hand, in a way that reflects the oddness Dorian feels in this building. The ornateness of the place is one thing, but it's also been built on a total different scale than Dorian is used to, all the doors, press-buttons for the lights, coat hooks and any other fixture built for someone Luka's size. The feeling of being a foot too short is now also familiar to him, though perhaps not altogether pleasant.

Luka sets his cup down, looking up over the corner of the newspaper.

"Dorian, right on time as usual I see."

Comments

[makingmyway]

He can't help tensing a bit as the measuring tape tightens against him - it doesn't restrain him in any way, but he does still feel immobile somehow, especially with the other man so close. Despite standing on the platform, Luka still stands much taller than him, and knowing how much money he has it suddenly feels quite intimidating.

"S-So, um...a-about that..."

[forrestertailor]

Luka, more than aware of how close they are, of the growing demands of Dorian's finances, and of the rattling heartbreak he can hear in the young man's chest, cocks his head coyly and smiles. He is the cause of the literal laundry list of expenses Dorian has incurred in town, and beyond that he's been in this situation, in this room, numerous times before. The door to the rest of the shop stay open for the moment but were it to close they would be very intimately alone.

"Yes dear? What about it?"

[makingmyway]

Dorian swallows the lump in his throat, knowing there was no point in beating around the bush. “I, um…well, the truth is, I seem to be a bit…short in funds.”

That was putting it lightly, knowing he doesn’t even have half the amount to pay what he owes.

Nervous of the other man’s reaction, his next words come out in a rush. “Of course, I’ll be happy to give you what I do have…” Even if it had taken him a long time to earn that much, as a bard, and it’ll take him a long while to earn more. “But is there anything I can do to pay off the rest? I’d be happy to provide any kind of service you might need, or…”

Just picturing trying to busk as a bard and how rough that would be for rent

[forrestertailor]

"Hmm," Luka watches him, still holding the measuring tape around his chest. When Dorian comes clean he puts his head back and lets out a gentle noise, close to a little mew at the state of the young man's finances. At the offer of services in kind he hums and moves behind Dorian, keeping the tape in place so he feels it whispering against his ribs while Luka steps around him in a close circle. He stops just behind Dorian's shoulder, humming out a low note by his ear. "That's very kind of you, dear. But if you're really so hard up I wouldn't rob you now. Keep your money, you can pay me back another way."

I know right? I’d say that’s why he has a group to room with, but they’re no better lol

[makingmyway]

Dorian remains stock still as the other man circles him, his eyes focused on the ground and trying not to shiver as the measuring tape slides across his body. The ghost of breath that tickles his face has his heart skipping a beat, but he visibly relaxes at the words as he nods.

“A-Ah…thank you, that’s very generous,” he manages. “Of course, I’m more than happy to do whatever else you’d need to pay you back.”

In dnd you're either penniless at all times or rich beyond reason, no in between

[forrestertailor]

Luka hums appreciatively at Dorian's offer, letting go of the tape. It skitters from Dorian's sides and hands at his feet with a soft 'clunk', while Luka's big hands run up his sides and over his chest. He cups one of Dorian's pecs and hangs onto his other shoulder, pulling him close so Dorian's back is pressed to Luka's front. He leans their heads together and Dorian can feel the soft wooliness of Luka's beard against his temple.

"How's this?" He asks, testing the waters.

Haha it’s true

[makingmyway]

Dorian draws in a sharp breath as those hands gently run along his body, his heart jumping into his throat as one of those hands rests on his chest. Though he doesn’t resist as he’s pulled against the other man’s body, his shock doesn’t let him move at all.

Oh…when he’d offered anything, he somehow hadn’t expected this. But then, he quite literally wasn’t in a position to refuse.

“I-I…it’s…fine…” he eventually is able to force out, despite feeling a bit tongue-tied.

[forrestertailor]

Luka eases more of Dorian's weight against his chest, running the fingers of his other hand in a strum down the buttons on Dorian's shirt. Buttons Luka himself put there. Cozied up like that, he leans his chin into Dorian's hair and rests it on his scalp. For the moment he doesn't get any more fresh.

"If you want to run the door's right there," Luka says warmly, half to remind himself that he'll need to close it if they stay together in this private little fitting room. "The cape can be on back order until you sing your way into a big enough purse."

[makingmyway]

Dorian can’t help holding his breath a moment as Luka leans against him, his heart still skipping.

“H-Ha…well, I’m not sure I’d really ever be able to make that much,” he says, a weak attempt at a joke. It isn’t really a dig at his skills (even if he can be a bit self-deprecating at times) as much as it is a fact of the trade.

But he does consider for a moment simply leaving. Does he really want the cape this much that he would resort to this? He knows it would seem typical for a bard to jump at the chance, but he’d always been a bit unusual when it comes to things like that.

[forrestertailor]

“Really?” Luka sounds genuinely surprised. His hand starts plucking the buttons of Dorian’s shirt open, one at a time. The other rolls down Dorian’s side, to his hip, around to his ass. Cupping it, Luka continues: “You could make quite a living, if you put your back in it. In all your days of adventuring, you really never tried it?”

[makingmyway]

His breath hitches softly as the hand gently grips his ass, his heart pounding almost in time with each button that comes open.

“I-I mean…I play when I have the opportunity. There’s only so much I can do for others to offer coin, though, unless I’m able to earn a gig at a tavern. Not many places are willing to hire an unknown talent, though.”

He once again speaks in a nervous rush, choosing to believe Luka is talking about earning money as a bard, as opposed to any other way.

[forrestertailor]

"Mmm, life as a freelancers," Luka says it so absently he might as well just be making a noise. He opens the buttons down to Dorian's belly, leaving the rest of the little coat closed so he'll have something to play with later. His hand brushes the notebook from Dorian's shoulder back into his own pocket and then slips his fingers inside the collar of Dorian's coat, folding it back from his neck to expose part of his throat and shoulder. As he works Luka squeezes Dorian's ass and kneads it gently. He leans his head down and kisses Dorian's neck, feeling his thumping pulse and moving his lips down to his collarbone. His lips are cold.

[makingmyway]

He isn’t expecting the chill of lips, and shivers as they drift over his skin, even as he tilts his head to bare himself more to Luka’s attention. He is still a bit conflicted over all this, not entirely sure he completely agrees with it, but it doesn’t stop the soft sound from rising from his throat as the taller man kneads his ass and kisses him.

[forrestertailor]

Luka brushes Dorian's hair to the side, kissing his collarbone and then up his neck to the back of his ear. He runs a hand under his jacket, feeling up Dorian's pec and softly tweaking his nipple through his undershirt. His other hand slides around Dorian's hip, giving his thigh a friendly squeeze before palming his crotch.

[makingmyway]

He can't help squirming a bit under the man's hands, the pinch to his nipple sending a jolt of electricity through him. The hand to his crotch though is what has him really feeling weak in the knees, and the moan that slips past his lips this time is louder, as his hips rock into that hand, unable to resist the building heat.

[forrestertailor]

"There's that lovely voice." Luka chuckles in his ear, petting him through his pants. He cups Dorian's chest, strumming his pec and nipple with his long, cold fingers and humming happily. The hand between his legs strokes slowly and squeezes, before backing to Dorian's thigh. "Do something for me, won't you dear? Go close that door."

[makingmyway]

Another shudder rolls through his entire body, the hands stroking his chest and crotch sending more pulses of heat that are pooling in his core. He leans back heavily against the other man, another groan slipping past his lips that sounds so loud in the quiet of the rest of the shop.

The request has him coming back to himself, at least enough to realize that they are a bit exposed this way, and someone can potentially walk in on them. With a vague nod, he manages to get his feet under him enough to slowly make his way towards the door.

And a part of him does think to maybe just leave, that a new cape and new clothes was hardly worth all this. He could slip out the door, no one would really blame him…

He shuts the door, releasing a breath as he locks it, leaning against it for a moment before turning back to look at the tailor.

[forrestertailor]

He turns back to find Luka lounging against a work table, newly cleared of its shrouds and bolts of cloth. Luka smiles his big toothy grin at Dorian, sitting on the edge of the workbench and dangling his strong legs over the Persian carpet. He sits forward and opens the front of his shirt, showing off his broad chest and the winged black shape of his chest hair.

"So you're sure you won't be running away?" He says playfully, putting out a hand to Dorian.

[makingmyway]

Dorian sucks in a sharp breath at the sight of the other man lounging on the table, his cheeks once again flushed violet at the display. Swallowing nervously, he steps forward until he’s close enough to take the outstretched hand in his own.

“We’ll see how things go,” he replies, the attempt at the joke sounding weak even to his own ears.

[forrestertailor]

“Don’t you worry, little songbird.” Luka takes Dorian’s hand and puts it on his ass, letting Dorian feel him up as he sits on the desk. He’s got a high, muscular butt that contrasts the thickness of his thighs. Keep Dorian close, Luka plucks his jacket off with his free hand and tosses it over a nearby dress form. “I’ll let you have the cape and clasp once we’re done. You have my word.”

[makingmyway]

Dorian stifles a gasp as he’s gently tugged forward, his hand being brought to rest on the other man’s ass and his cloak is removed, leaving him feeling even more vulnerable.

But he can’t help feeling the firmness of the cheek in his palm, gently massaging it in his hand and glancing up at Luka’s face, watching his reaction.

[forrestertailor]

"There you go," Luka smiles crooked back at him, obviously more than used to this sort of arrangement. He pushes back into Dorian's touch, running his hand down the front of Dorian's belly to slip his hand under the waistband of his pants. "I started to worry you might not know how to have a tryst, my dear."

[makingmyway]

Dorian flushes in embarrassment, even as he shivers at the lightly calloused fingers drifting over his skin when the hand slips into his pants, his own hand gently kneading the firm ass in return.

“I…don’t do this kind of thing often,” he admits after a moment. “I’m not really that kind of bard.”

Forgot to say happy holidays bro!

[forrestertailor]

"No? What a dear thing you are." He saw a genuine, if wolfish, smile on Luka's face. Then a big, cold palm smoothed down his navel and fingers slipped under the hem of Dorian's smallclothes. Luka plucked at the buttons at the front of his pants to give his hand move room, but otherwise left Dorian dressed as he took his cock in hand and gently thumbed the warm softness of its vein. "You ought to try it, sometime. I've every confidence in you."

Aww thanks! Happy holidays to you too!

[makingmyway]

Whatever argument he might have had is quickly lost at the cool touch to his length, and he couldn't stop the moan that escapes him even if he wanted to. The chill of the other man’s skin leaves an almost strange sensation compared to the rising heat in his body, yet he still can’t help curving into it, his hips lightly rocking into the other man’s large hand.