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“I need you to come by the studio tonight.”
You looked up from your book to find August leaning against the door frame, mischief barely concealed behind his tinted glasses.
“Why?” You were already suspicious.
“Weellllllll,” he drew the word out, moving closer trying to look casual. “I’ve made some new pieces for the Doll Festival. I need you to try them on, make sure everything is absolutely perfect.” He pressed a hand to his chest. “I simply cannot have you in anything other than perfection, my dear.”
You set your book down, raising an eyebrow. “August. You know my measurements by heart.”
“Ohhhh of course I know your measurements,” he smiled, feigning innocence that didn’t quite cancel out the gleam in his eyes. “But I want to be absolutely, one hundred percent certain these are purrrrrfect.”
“Uh huhhh,” you crossed your arms, biting back a smile. “And you need me there tonight? Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”
“Absolutely not, the lighting will be better in the evening–” he was already moving toward the door. “More romantic. I mean–” he paused, glancing back with that coy smile, “more… accurate. Yes, accurate to the festival's ambiance. Very important, critical, even.”
You laughed at his terrible excuse. Whatever scheme your boyfriend was cooking up, it was at least going to be an entertaining evening. And you were always more than willing to play along with his theatrics.
“Fine,” you said standing, “Give me half an hour.”
“Take your time, my dear.” His smile widened and he pressed both hands to his chest now, like you just bestowed a great honor upon him. “Perfection cannot – will not – be rushed. That’s basically a law in my eyes.”
The studio was warm when you arrived, lamplight casting everything in amber and gold, the supposed Doll Festival ambiance as he mentioned. August had clearly prepared, fabric swatches arranged, measuring tape draped over his shoulder, garments hanging from a rack.
“Right on time,” he said, turning on his heel. He had changed from his usual overalls into black cargo pants that sat perfectly on his hips, paired with a soft grey t-shirt that clung enough to remind you of the lean muscles underneath. “Ok, ok, come. Let me show you what I’ve created. Prepare yourself. This is going to be – just prepare yourself.”
He plucked one of the garments off the rack and spun around to reveal its design to you.
Your breath caught. The fabric and tailoring was exquisite, August’s signature style bleeding through every intention design. Rich colors that would make your skin luminous, careful embellishments that would no doubt showcase your figure perfectly. No detail overlooked.
“August,” you breathed. “This is beautiful.”
“Beautiful?” He presses both hands to his heart, eyes wide behind those tinted glasses. “My darling, beautiful is how you would describe a sunset, a sweet, a flower.” He gestured dramatically at the garment. “This–this is living poetry. This is what happens when inspiration manifests into a physical form.” He moved it gently in the light, handling it like it might disintegrate at too rough of a touch. “However, and this is crucial, it is nothing but a lifeless husk without you. A sad empty shell. It only achieves its true purpose, its reason for existing, when it melts onto every curve of you. My muse deserves nothing but transcendence, and i intend to deliver exactly that.”
You bit your lips trying not to smile too wide. No matter how many times he launched into these tangents, you would never get over how wonderfully ridiculous and dramatic he was.
“Well then,” you said, reaching for the hem of your shirt. “Let’s see I can live up to this buildup.”
You pulled your shirt over your head and when you looked back at August he was very still. His eyes tracked your every movement as you set your shirt aside, then reached to unbutton your pants.
“You know,” you said as you shimmied out of them, “most people look away when someone’s changing.”
“Hmm, most people,” August said, voice softer than usual, “haven’t been blessed with such a sight. Would be a crime to avert my gaze. An insult to beauty itself.”
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t quite suppress your smile this time. When you stood before him in just your bra and panties his gaze travelled over your body with visible appreciation. Just admiring your figure like you were a sculpture he was committing to memory.
“Stop staring and help me get into this.” you complained as you reached for the festival garment.
“Ohhh, where are my manners? Of course, of course–” But he moved slowly, almost reluctantly, like he was being pulled away by something. “Actually before we begin…just one moment”
He stepped closer and his hands came up, thumbs and index fingers forming a frame. He peered through it tilting his head like he was a director building precise composition for the perfect shot.
“What are you doing?” you asked even though you knew perfectly well what he was up to.
“Taking a mental photograph,” he said seriously, completely serious. “The light hitting you like this is just soo–” he let out an appreciative sound, almost a groan. “The curve of your shoulder, the line of your body, the way you’re looking at me like I'm being over the top but you’re fond of me anyway–” His voice had gone playful yet genuine “A vision. A masterpiece standing in my studio. Mine. I get to look at this whenever I want. Do you understand how lucky that makes me?”
“I’m literally just standing here in my underwear feeling silly.”
“Just?” He lowered his hands but didn’t look away. “My darling. There is nothing in this world that you could wear that would make me not think you’re the most captivating thing i had ever seen in my entire life.” He paused, smile widening. “Though i will admit… i do have a very fond appreciation for this particular view.”
You rolled your eyes to try to force the blush building on your skin to not become so apparent.
He finally picked up the garment and moved behind you. “Arms up, darling.”
You raised your arms and he slipped the fabric carefully over your head. His fingers lingered as he adjusted it, smoothing down your sides, arranging it carefully, taking longer than necessary. When he came back around to face you, his expression shifted from appreciative to… confused.
You both looked down.
The garment hung loose on your frame, gaping at the waist, shoulders sitting wrong, too long for your height.
“August…” you said slowly.
“Hmm.” He tugged on the fabric and it was clearly, obviously too big.
You looked up at him, fighting back a laugh. “This doesn’t fit.”
“Mmm, yes, you’re right. It doesn’t seem to fit.” He said innocently, but his lips were twitching.
“August Stilza, fashion designer, master craftsman, maker of garments that fit like second skins…somehow forgot to measure?”
“It’s a mystery.” he said gravely, though you could see the delight dancing in his eyes behind his glasses. “A complete mystery. Absolutely unprecedented. I’m devastated. Ruined. My reputation shall be in tatters. They’ll revoke my scissors.”
“Ok you’re being a tad dramatic now”
“What can I say?” He reached for the hem of the dress, lifting it slowly. “Your beauty got me flustered. Made me forget how to do my job, my life's work, properly.” He pulled the piece off over your head with care. “You’ve reduced me to a mere amateur, my dear, a complete novice who doesn’t know a tape measure from a…from a…well, from something that’s not a tape measure.”
You were back in just your bra and panties. August set the piece aside with care then turned back to you with a mischievous smile and heat behind his eyes.
“Well now,” he said, reaching for the measuring tape around his neck. “This simply meansI’ll need to take fresh measurements. Right now, immediately. This very second” He pulled the tape from his shoulder, “Can’t very well measure you properly with all that loose fabric in the way now can i?”
You huffed a laugh, “That’s your excuse?”
“Excuse?” He pressed a hand to his forehead like he was going to faint. “You wound me. I’m already drowning in shame over my professional demise and now you accuse me of, of excuses?” His dramatics were ruined by his grin. “I’ll just need to be verrrrrrrry thorough this time. Triple check everythingggg. I clearly cannot afford another mistake or the entire Sphere will hear of my downfall.”
He stepped closer and you could feel the heat radiating off of him. He brought his hands up, fingers ghosting over your collarbone. “So. May I, my dear?”
The way he asked you for permission, like he hadn’t already mapped every inch of your body hundreds of times, like this was a sacred privilege he was humbly requesting rather than assuming, made the heat pool low in your stomach.
“Yes,” you said, unable to keep the smile off of your face.
“Good.” he said. “Then let us begin. Please ignore how excited I look. This is strictly professional.”
August circled you slowly, the measuring tape dangling from his fingers. You could feel his gaze travel over you, assessing and appreciating.
When he completed his circle, he stood before you.
“Arms up,” he said softly.
You raised them and he stepped closer, bringing the tape around your ribcage just below your breasts. His knuckles dragged against your skin as he brought the ends together and you couldn’t help but shiver.
“Hmm, yes. Extremely important measurements. Life or death if I get this wrong again.” He murmured, taking his time even though you both knew he didn’t need to. When he moved the tape higher, his fingers skimmed along your sides intentionally, thumbs grazing the underside of your bra. Completely unnecessary and absolutely on purpose.
“You know,” you said as he made a show of checking the tape. “This seems like a very unconventional measuring technique."
“Unconventional?” He looked offended, but you could see the smile tugging on his lips. “This is traditional, i’ll have you know. They used this exact method in– uhh– ancient times. Extremely ancient. Don’t fact check me.” His fingers traced the path where the tape had just been, slowly.
“Ancient times?” you repeated flatly.
“Yes! Artists measured exactly like this. It’s in all the history books.”
You tried to suppress your laugh but that got a grin out of him.
He moved behind you and you felt the heat radiating off his body at your back. The tape came around your waist this time and he leaned in close, closer than necesary. His breath ghosted across your shoulder.
“You’re doing that on purpose,” you said, trying to sound unaffected and failing completely.
“Ohhh, am I?” His lips were close to your ear and you could hear the amusement in his voice. “That’s terrible, someone should stop me.”
But he didn’t move away. Instead his fingers lingered at your waist, not even pretending to measure anymore, just tracing the soft curves. Then higher, following your ribs with feather light touches that made you hold your breath.
“I need to,” he murmured and then his lips were on your shoulder, pressing a gentle kiss against your bare skin. “Appreciate my canvas properly. Study the composition. It’s very important. For science.”
“Ohhh, is that what you’re calling this?” Your voice came out shakier than you had intended. “Science?”
“Mmm.” Another kiss, higher this time, at the curve of where your shoulder met your neck. His hands completely abandoned the notion of continuing to measure, sliding around to rest on your stomach. “I’m conducting a thorough study. Research. Every artist should understand their subject intimately.”
You let your head fall back slightly, giving him better access and felt the sharp intake of his breath inhaling your scent. “See, this is interesting information that needs to be collected.” His hands moved higher, skimming the undersides of your breasts through your bra.
You bit back a sound and felt him smile against your neck.
“You’re not even measuring anymore,” you managed.
“No,” he agreed, lips trailing up the side of your neck. “No, I got extremely distracted. Completely derailed. My professional focus has left me.”
His hands were everywhere now. Tracing your collarbone, caressing your arms, following the curve of your hips. Each touch lingering, savoring, like he was trying to memorize your body though his fingertips. You could feel him pressed against your back, could feel exactly how affected he was by these simple ‘measurements’.
One hand slid down your stomach, fingers dancing at the waistband of your panties, dipping just beneath before retreating. Teasing. His other hand came to brush your hair aside, gathering it over one shoulder.
“August,” you breathed.
“Hmm?” he nipped gently at your earlobe.
“What happened to your little scheme?”
“Gone, completely gone," he kissed your neck, sounding almost dazed. “Forgotten, you’re far too distracting. All I can think about-” His hand slid to cup your breast, “Is how you feel under my hands,” He placed another kiss on your neck. “How you taste.”
He proved his point with a slow lick up your neck that made you weak in the knees.
“Every little sound you make,” he breathed, hand kneading gently while the other splayed across your stomach, holding you back against him. “Every little reaction. I want to remember all of it.” When you made a soft sound, his grip tightened fractionally.
“Oh that’s - yes, that one’s going in the collection. Do you have any idea what you do to me? I’m barely holding it together here.”
You could feel exactly what you did to him, the hard length of him pressed against you, your own desire building with every gentle touch, every soft kiss that was quickly becoming less soft.
Your hands came up to thread through his hair, pulling him closer and he groaned softly against your neck.
“I need more,” you whispered, not caring about how pathetic that sounded.
“Yeah?” His hand slid higher on your breast, thumb finding your nipple through the fabric and circled it slowly. “You’ll have to be more specific, darling. I’m a very literal person. The details are important.” You could hear the tease in his tone.
“You,” you gasped as he pinched gently. “August, i need you, i need–”
You couldn’t take it anymore. You turned in his arms breaking his hold and his hands hovered in the air for a second, like he didn’t know what to do without touching you. You faced him now, eyes locking onto where you knew his were behind those tinted lenses.
You could see everything, the flush on his cheeks, the way his chest heaved, the tension in his jaw.
“I want to see you,” you said and reached up.
You plucked the glasses from his face, revealing the desire that weighed his eyes, the dilated pupils that were looking at you like the only thing of interest in the world.
“Oh hello, darling.” he said, slightly breathless, and you wanted to laugh because of course he would say that.
But then his hands were cupping your face, tilting it up to kiss you. No more teasing, no more fake measuring. This was consuming and desperate, his tongue sliding against yours, one hand tangled in your hair tight enough to make you gasp into his mouth.
You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer and the needy sound he made sent heat straight through your body.
He broke away from the kiss, “I want to worship you properly.” he said, voice going serious., “Every inch of you. Will you let me?”
The way he asked it, made your answer easy.
“Yes,” you breathed.
His smile was huge. “Good. Good. Ok” He took your hand, already leading you to the couch. “Come here, sit down, let me-” he was almost babbling now, the nervous and excited energy spilling out. “Let me show you what devotion looks like.”
You sank down onto the edge of the couch and August dropped to his knees in front of you with a grin that was pure mischief.
“Okay sooo.” he said, hands coming to rest on your knees, “I’ve been thinking about this. A lot. Possibly an embarrassing amount today.” He slid his hands up your thighs slowly. “And I have a very specific plan.”
“A plan,” you repeated
“Oh yes. Very detailed. I’m going to start here” he leaned forward pressing a kiss to your collarbone, “and work my way down. Slowly.” He pressed another kiss, lower. “Very, very slowly.”
The way he said it made your body feel hot.
His mouth traveled lower, lips trailing along the edge of your bra, then to your ribs. Each kiss was deliberate and you could feel him smile against your skin every time your breath caught.
“The little gasp you made,” He said against your stomach, sounding pleased. “It’s very cute.”
When he reached the waistband of your panties, he looked up at you, with a small smiling dancing on his lips.
“Can i take these off?” His fingers hooked into your panties and the adoration in his voice made your pulse spike.
“Yes,” you breathed. The anticipation lighting your nerves on fire.
He drew them down slowly, eyes never leaving yours until you were bare before him. Then his gaze dropped and his breath caught.
“Wow. Give me one second to–” he made a vague gesture to his head. “My brain just stopped working.”
He settled between your legs, hands grazing over your thighs. “I had a plan, a great plan. It’s completely gone sooo we’re improvising now.” When his breath ghosted over you and you gasped, he grinned.
“Ohhhh that’s…ok new plan, i’m just going to make sure you do that again” then his mouth was on you and any coherent thought you might have had before this moment flew completely out of your mind.
The first touch of his tongue was gentle, exploring, but there was nothing uncertain about his actions. He knew exactly what he was doing, starting soft, learning you, building slowly. When you whimpered, he hummed in approval and the vibration made your back arch.
Then he found a rhythm that made your toes curl, his tongue moved with precision that was quickly undoing you. Every time you got close to the edge, he would just pull back just slightly, making you whimper in frustration.
“August” you gasped, fingers diving into his hair.
He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes and the look he wore on his face was pure satisfaction. “Yes, my darling?”
“Stop teasing.”
“Ohh, I’m not teasing,” he said and you could hear his amusement. “This is art. I’m an artist–” Whatever else he was going to say was lost on him as he sealed his lips around your clit and sucked in a way that made you cry out and tighten your grip on his hair.
The groan he made against you was approving and then he went back to work with intense focus. His tongue moved in patterns that had you writhing. Long slow strokes, then quick flicks, then swirling circles that made you forget how to breathe.
He was reading your every reaction, taking note of what made you gasp vs what made you moan and used that information against you mercilessly. When he found something that made your thighs tremble, he would focus there until you were squirming and then switch to something else before he pushed you over the edge.
“Please August” you managed and you could feel him smile.
One hand left your thigh, you felt his fingers teasing at your entrance. He looked up at you, expression deceptively innocent. “Can I?” The way he asked you so sweetly while his tongue did devastating things to you nearly made you come apart right there.
You nodded frantically and he slid two fingers inside, curling them immediately to find that spot that made you see stars.
The pressure built so quickly, your whole body tensing and every time you thought you would break he would slow down enough to drag it out longer.
“August, I can’t - I’m going to-”
“Mmm, are you?” He pulled back slightly, breath ghosting over you, that mischief still in his eyes. “Already? But i wasn’t done studying yet–”
“August” It came out desperate, almost pleading.
“Ok ok, yes sorry” but he still sounded delighted. His fingers curled deeper finding that perfect angle, his mouth sealed around you with the intent to finally undo you. “Come for me, please. I want to know I made you feel half as incredible as you look.”
You shattered, your back arching as pleasure crashed through you in waves, his name coming out in a broken cry on your lips. He worked you through it, movements gentling but not stopping until you were a puddle of yourself, gasping.
Only then did he press a final kiss into your thigh and sit back on his heels looking entirely too pleased with himself. His lips were swollen, eyes still dark with want and when he brought his fingers to his mouth and licked them clean without breaking eye contact, you almost fell apart again.
“Soooooo,” he said, slightly out of breath but grinning. “How was that? Please rate your experience on a scale of one to ten. Customer feedback is very important to me.”