New Fic! This is a one-shot for Fuckuary (Lucifer February Prompt Month) and the prompt is Leather.
Deckerstar, Established Relationship, Rating: E
Lucifer is no longer in a suit, half undone or otherwise, but in skin tight, lace-up leather pants, boots, a collar, and nothing else. The pants are low-slung, barely covering him. There is a visible stripe of skin from the tops of his boots to his waist.
Chloe discovers some old photographs of Lucifer. He offers to recreate them.
Sipping her coffee, hair still mussed from sleep, Chloe idly runs her fingers over the books in Lucifer’s library—Hamlet, The Picture of Dorian Gray, Also sprach Zarathustra. On a whim, she pulls out a copy of Le Comte de Monte-Cristo. First edition, of course. Signed by the author, of course. She doesn’t know if she’ll ever get used to it. She turns the page—it’s in French—and some loose papers flutter out.
Crouching, she scoops them off the floor, but they aren’t parts of the book or related notes. They are photographs.
They are photographs of Lucifer. A photo shoot.
She leafs through them. The first few are of him in a sleek suit, jacket hanging off his arms or gone, shirt mostly unbuttoned, and a tie loosely slung around his neck. He looks like temptation—like he just had sex with the photographer, is about to, or both. And, yeah, that tracks.
She can’t make out much of the room—it’s too dark—but there’s a small table with a bottle of scotch, a glass, and a cigarette, the smoke winding upward. One side of his mouth quirks up into a dangerous smile, inviting her in. Heat pools between her legs. The penthouse feels much too warm all of a sudden.
Chloe takes another sip of her coffee. Should she go find him right now? She is pivoting when she catches a glimpse of the other photos. Carefully placing her cup on a nearby table, she pulls them out of the pile.
There are three photographs of him with a classic convertible, but she couldn’t have described anything else about the car or its surroundings if her life depended on it. Because Lucifer is no longer in a suit, half undone or otherwise, but in skin tight, lace-up leather pants, boots, a collar, and nothing else. The pants are low-slung, barely covering him. There is a visible stripe of skin from the tops of his boots to his waist.