Memento (MLQC Lucien - NSFW) - Otonymous x Nan-Chi
Description: The best way to wish Lucien a very happy birthday Warnings: NSFW/18+: explicit/graphic language — reader discretion is advised. Spoilers for Lucien’s “Cozy Birthday Date,” on which this fic is based. Word Count: ~800 words (~4 mins of fluffy birthday smut-lite™️) Author’s Notes: Y’all know I couldn’t very well see that bare thigh of Lucien’s and not write anything about it. Thank goodness I wasn’t alone, as the incredibly talented @nan-chi also created an absolutely beautiful and thirst-inducing illustration to accompany this ficlet of mine! Many thanks to Super Sweet Nan™️ - it was such a joy working with you and I hope we can collaborate again in the future! Wishing my favourite 2D husbando a very happy birthday with this drabble based on his “Cozy Birthday Date”! Happy reading everyone! 💖😊
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“Oh? What’s this?”
Lucien’s voice is soft and low when you decline the coffee he offers, exchanging the mugs in his hands for a camera fished out from your carry-on instead. And there, in the speckled light of early morning sun, the amusement on your lover’s face makes him seem more magnetic than ever, sending a rush of blood to warm your cheeks in anticipation of what you were about to do.
“Ah, so there are some things the all-knowing Professor Xu hasn’t yet deduced from my sudden arrival in London.”
He chuckles in response, the intensity of his gaze a spotlight following every move as you make to stand before him, trying to breathe though the very sight of the man stole the air from your lungs:
Hair still damp from a shower and black like the ink of his namesake, Lucien radiated a quiet majesty though he sat reclined in nothing but a bathrobe, secured so loosely about the waist the slightest tug would reveal all of what you had been longing to see.
For though you had planned to travel to the UK in order to surprise him the minute you learned he would be spending his birthday at a conference here, the time leading up to the day itself was torturous — every hour, every second passing in a crawl made all the more slow by the yearning to have him in your arms once more.
So sinking to your knees in the space between his legs — stretched long in a rare moment of relaxation — you will the turmoil that stirred all your sleepless nights without him to surface in your gaze, laying bare the vulnerability in the desire that drove you to act this way: hungry, reckless and past the point of caring about propriety.
“For your birthday last year, I gave you a photo album to commemorate the times we’ve spent together. Do you remember?”
A smile blooms upon his lips, the professor’s eyes softening with nostalgia. “Of course. It’s my most precious possession.”
And it was true. You had seen for yourself the place where he kept it — tucked in the drawer of his bedside table at his Loveland City apartment; had come across Lucien perusing its pages when he thought your attention was elsewhere, tenderness gathering in those features as he traced the image of your face, smiling in technicolour hues.
The memory glows warm in your chest to bolster your confidence. Taking a deep breath, you place your palms upon his knees, feigning innocence as you put your ploy into play: “But you know, being the foolish girl I am, I realize that I’ve omitted something very important.”
“Have you now?”