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Summary
Alastor was not a man particularly fond of getting 'gussied up' for no good reason. He plucked at the lacy undergarments he was wearing, careful not to catch any of the delicate threads on his claws, and grinned at himself in the mirror.
What a lucky man Lucifer was. That Alastor would go to such lengths: his neck wrapped in a collar of silk, sheer stockings on his legs and his arms and a chest piece that revealed more than it hid currently tickling his scars. He lifted his chin and turned in place, tail wiggling above the lacy band of the barely-there set of undershorts he had on – if they could even be given such a name. His ass was almost entirely on display, an asset he'd never considered as one of his strongest, but Lucifer certainly seemed to enjoy it.
*
Or: Alastor has a proposition for Lucifer - and for Vox. Made entirely out of the goodness of his heart for the benefit of the hotel, of course. After all, it's not like he wants to see that useless Picture Box again.
Series
- Part 3 of AppleMedia Oneshots