forrestertailor | Blue Man Coalescence for @Makingmyway

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."

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From:

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.”

From:

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.

Edited Date: 2023-12-24 05:06 am (UTC)

From:

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."

From:

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.”

From:

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."

From:

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.

From:

forrestertailor

"There's a good boy," Luka sits with his own legs open, giving Dorian plenty of room to cozy up to him. He pets his slowly, meeting the time Dorian's hips set and giving him a tender squeeze at the end of each stroke. His free hand runs up Dorian's side, petting his ribs, along his chest, up to his neck. Stretching his cold fingers around the back of Dorian's neck, Luka brings him in for a kiss.

From:

makingmyway

With shaky steps, Dorian’s feet seem to move on their own as he steps closer. He ends up leaning against the taller man as his knees suddenly feel weak with each stroke and squeeze to his quickly hardening member, the rush of blood to his cock leaving him feeling a bit lightheaded.

As the other hand trails up his neck, he tilts his head up, shivering as the cool fingers still manage to leave a blazing trail of heat against his skin. Another moan rises from his throat, lost to Luka’s lips as he kisses him.

From:

forrestertailor

Luka's beard tickles Dorian's face, soft and wooly, and his proud nose brushes Dorian's cutely. He parts Dorian's lips by opening his own and his tongue rolls cool and soft between Dorian's teeth. Luka slips his hand down the back of Dorian's neck, along his collarbones, over his shoulder and down his arm to take Dorian's hand. He plants it on Luka's pec, encouraging him to get touchy.

His other hand speeds up, stroking Dorian rhythmically and keeping his hot skin in a soft, expectant grip.

From:

makingmyway

His breath hitches softly at the grip to his length, shivering as the combination of sensation and the other man’s presence seems to surround him, overwhelms him. His lips part automatically, another moan in his throat at the brush of a surprisingly cool tongue against his own.

He rocks his hips against Luka’s hand, and as his own is guided to rest on Luka’s chest, he brings his other hand to join it, smoothing both down the expanse of the broad torso in front of him and over his stomach.

From:

forrestertailor

Luka more than fills Dorian's hands. He sighs heavily, tilting Dorian's head back to deepen the kiss. His pecs swell under Dorian's hands, his stomach is firm with just a little give. All over Dorian can feel the weight behind his movements, the easy strength he possesses.
And especially the friendly grip, squeezing Dorian gently as he jerks him off. Luka lets out a groan, sliding his tongue over Dorian's lip as he breaks the kiss.
"That's it, let's hear that lovely voice." He bows his head for a moment, letting go of Dorian's cock to spit in his own palm. He pets him again, then squeezes and picks up his pace.

From:

makingmyway

Dorian shivers as he runs his hands down the firm body, feeling completely surrounded and encompassed by him. But it only serves to spur him on, and as the kiss breaks another moan rises from his throat.

Especially when Luka’s hand returns to his length, the slicker slide as he pumps him harder pulling a sharper sound from him. His head falls back against his shoulders, and his hands reach around Luka’s back to grip at his shoulders, his body feeling weak to the other’s attention.

From:

forrestertailor

Luka hums and Dorian feels it rumbling through his chest. He sinks cool fingers through Dorian's hair, carding them through as his other hand speeds up. Like this Luka is more or less holding Dorian up by his cock but he's in no hurry to let the younger man go. He gives him a tender squeeze down his length, cupping his head in his palm.

From:

makingmyway

More moans drift past Dorian’s lips as he rocks his hips in time with Luka’s hand, feeling the pressure building ever hotter in his core. The fingers in his hair send a tingling sensation through his scalp that spreads a shiver down his back, and he leans into the touch like a cat seeking affection.

“Please…please…”

From:

forrestertailor

Luka massages his scalp, giving Dorian as much affection as he likes. He leans the corner of his jaw on the other side of Dorian's head, the black wool of his beard brushing the back of Dorian's ear.

"You like my big hands?" He rumbles coquettishly, all but purring in Dorian's ear. "Go ahead, come for me little songbird."

From:

makingmyway

The noises coming from Dorian’s throat can only be described as a mewling sound, as he presses into Luka’s hands, rubbing up against the one on top of his head as he leans into the other man, his hips still thrusting into the one wrapped around his cock.

The permission seems to be all he needs, and he clings to the broad shoulders as he lets himself go, a fevered moan working its way free as he spills himself into the waiting hand, the hot pleasure coursing throughout his entire body.

From:

forrestertailor

"That's a good boy." Luka says, petting Dorian. He's smiling to himself, closing his dripping hand and trailing the other one through Dorian's hand. He props Dorian's head against his chest, giving him a place to catch his breath while Luka fishes out a handkerchief and balls it up as he wipes his fingers. "How was that, Mr. Storm?"

From:

makingmyway

Dorian shivers a little as he practically curls up against Luka’s chest, or at least as best as he able to while standing. His breathing comes out a bit heavy, the pleasure still coursing through his body and leaving him feeling weak but satisfied.

He hums softly at the question, his voice a bit dry and hoarse even as he tries to clear it. “It…It felt good,” he eventually concedes.

From:

forrestertailor

“You flatter me,” Luka waves a hand demurely and traces its fingertips down Dorian’s cheek. Lazily, he hooks an arm around the other man’s shoulders to keep them together. “And how does it feel to be the owner of a new cloak?”

From:

makingmyway

He leans into the touch at his cheek, even as he flushes at the reminder of his cloak.

“A-Ah…in all honesty, I’d…almost forgotten about it.”

From:

forrestertailor

Luka gives his cheek a soft pinch.

“Eyes on the prize, Storm. If you think too much with that thing you’ll miss more than a cloak, you know.”

From:

makingmyway

Dorian flinches a bit at the pinch, and a part of him wants to argue that this hadn’t even been his idea in the first place. But he bites his tongue, because technically he had offered anything, so he supposes that is on him.

“R-Right,” he says instead, then clears his throat. “So, um…is that it, then?”

He hopes he doesn’t sound quite as disappointed as that felt.

From:

forrestertailor

“‘Is that it?’” Luka puffs up his chest in fake umbrage, giving Dorian more cushion to lean his head on. He scoffs. “Here I thought I might scare you off with just that.”

He tosses his soiled handkerchief aside for emphasis.

“If you want more you only need to ask, Dorian.”

From:

makingmyway

Worried that he might have offended the other man for a moment, he relaxes at the offer. He chuckles, glancing up at Luka a bit sheepishly.

“I…wouldn’t mind going a bit further. If that’s all right.”

From:

forrestertailor

"I'll have to check with my priest." Luka laughs, taking Dorian's hand and guiding him to the work table. He pats the surface of the table, offering it as a seat, and cocks his head at Dorian. "What should I ask the father about? What have you got in mind?"