divinity ♱ luke hemmings

Chapter 2: Divine Boners & Therapists.

CHAPTER TWO
Divine Boners & Therapists.

Luke looked down at his dick and raised an eyebrow.

He was in a cinema screen, watching some adult movie about the colour grey and its seventy-something different hues. He couldn't exactly pinpoint as to why he was there and how nobody else had noticed the growing tent in his trousers, but he had no idea how to get rid of it and he needed to fast.

This never happened to him. Back when he was Lucifer, the only thing out of his control was being the King of something awful- everything else, he had free reign over. Especially his time sensitive boners.

Awkwardly, he shifted the tub of popcorn on his lap and placed it a certain way. It didn't do much at all, but it was better than nothing- especially since the lady sitting next to him had noticed and was currently trying to shimmy herself as far away from the Devil as possible.

Luke rolled his eyes. He hadn't met someone as prudish as her since Eve, back when the Garden of Eden wasn't an industrial site for rich folk and the 'apple' wasn't actually an apple- more like a banana. His banana.

He wondered how she was doing. Of course, he knew her marriage to Adam wasn't entirely real. Just because she was created for him didn't necessarily mean that she wanted him. Luke had met Adam and he had to admit- he was probably the most boring person on the planet. You'd think, being the first man and all, that he would at least try. But he never did.

The film ended just after Luke managed to think of things that didn't get his blood pumping, and he managed to stand up and leave with as little to no interaction with anyone else as possible. The movie was okay, albeit boring. He'd seen better sex tropes in hell loops.

He took out his phone and pressed a few random buttons, eyebrows furrowing at the sight of the too-bright screen and shaking icons. He couldn't understand why he was having such a hard time adjusting- everything on Earth seemed much simpler when he was watching from above.

"Whoops!"

Suddenly, he felt the phone being knocked out of his hand as someone collided clumsily into his chest. His eyes widened as he felt the cold brew of an iced latte spilling all over his white shirt.

"Fuck!" the person gasped, hands shooting up to cover their mouth. Luke just grimaced at the stench of weak coffee, his newly formed senses barely processing the information in time. "I'm so, so sorry!"

"It's-" Luke started, before the person began to tackle him with an array of white napkins. He heard a skateboard clutter to the ground, probably doing more damage to the pavement than anything else. "It's alright,"

"It's not," they said, voice raspy yet high. He had a closer look at them and confirmed that it was indeed a girl; probably in her early twenties, if not just turned. She had dyed hair and an oddly placed piercing, as well as mismatching socks and a bright yellow bag. "Look, let me clean you up. Is this Prada? Oh, fuck me,"

"That's alright," Luke murmured, taking a step back from her frantic movements. Her shoulders slumped slightly, seemingly disappointed in him turning down her offer to help. "Honestly. Don't worry about it."

"I am worrying about it. Look, uh-" she unzipped her bag, rummaging around it for a bit before taking out yet another white napkin and a pen.

Leaning it against her palm, she began to scribble, before folding it up again and handing it over to Luke. "Again, I'm so sorry. Here's my number- text me how much the dry cleaning or whatever it is for that thing and I'll Venmo you."