A/N : Before you start reading, please remember to review or comment or leave some encouragement after you finish. It would help me gauge whether people are actually interested in the story and the frequency of my updates. First-timer here so will need guidance and help.. Thanks! :) Also, imagine Luke to be Jake Gyllenhaal. (Tiny crossover from Love, Drugs and Other Things)
Disclaimer : Devil Wears Prada fully belongs to Lauren Weisberger. This is purely fictional and a story. The character of Luke, though is my brain-child.
Chapter 1: Andrea
Like every other night, she would close her usually fluttering eyelids to find herself enveloped by darkness. Not that she didn't appreciate the still calmness and frightening clarity she felt in her subconscious for someone who was supposed to be asleep but it's not supposed to like that. She's sure of it.
Gone were the days where she would find herself in a fuzzy state, slipping her long and slim digits through soft satin-like slivery hair. Gone were those days where she would lose herself in a state of orgasmic pleasure. She now found herself in reflective darkness – something she quickly learned to enjoy when the workload and attention started increasing. It was her alone time - a time for her to reflect in her day and work out a rough plan of the day ahead.
The likeness in colour and texture of the stranger's hair that she ploughed her fingers through in those dreams and the hair of her ex-boss was purely coincidental. Silvery satin-soft like hair could be seen at almost every corner of the busy New York street. At least that's what she would religiously chant to herself when she would wake up with a pool of pleasure and deliriously happy.
The soft and barely audible beep that the digital alarm emitted pulled her out of the darkness. How she could hear such a soft beep was beyond Luke, who was still fast asleep, even snoring lightly. Maybe her training at Runway to be always on her toes and at the beck & call of someone changed her into a light sleeper. Maybe it helped a little that her alarm beeps sounded a lot like her ex-boss's ringtone. Just maybe, though.
Luke's gentle snores and his arms that stretched across the midsection of her body etched a small smile on her face. It felt comforting to wake up to the warmth of someone hugging you close. In the doe-eyed beauty's opinion, the best way to start a day was in the arms of someone. Obviously, this came in second to having a cup of steaming hot coffee in her hands.
Silently slipping out from his lean arms, she smirked as she found her tank top on the floor ripped from the neck line down to the centre, relishing in the thought of last night's activities that would explain the mild sore she felt. "Damn, and that was one of my favourite La Perla tank tops." She muttered under her breath but she guessed that last night's performance by Luke was worth the tank top. She kissed his defined jaw and wrapped her robe around her body, fastening the belt. Gracefully moving to the kitchen, she decided to prioritise. If she washed up, she was sure that Luke would wake up from the sound of the showers and God knows that he would attempt to help bathe her. She really wanted a cup of Joe before having to satiate Luke. So, she started the silent coffee machine that was totally worth the money at times like this and revelled in the heat as it slid steaming hot down her throat.
Slipping into the bathroom caffeinated, she was met with her won reflection in the full length mirror on the wall of the sink. Knowing full well that though she slept in a state of semi-consciousness if not full in mind and emotion, her body still received full rest, which is weird but she thought childishly that it could be her secret super powers. Not the crime-fighting sort, just the panda-eyes fighting kind.
As she padded out of her bathroom in her robe, she was met with the sight of Luke lying on the bed, propped up with his back against the backboard, awake and smirking. Hair sexily tousled and ridiculously dashing when he delivered his smirk, she knew full well what he wanted. She smiled, swaying her hips as she walked across the bedroom and to her walk-in closet, all the while looking determined to get dressed and totally ignoring him before dropping her bath robe at the entrance of the closet.
Turning her head, she gave him a seductive smile that could easily match his smirk. "Now, I wonder what I should wear today. Hmm, maybe something short. Just to these those poor interns at work. Hmm. I don't know." Turning to him, she appeared to snap out of thinking aloud. "Maybe you can help me get dressed. You know, pick something appropriate to wear. Won't you help? Please? " She asked him, fluttering her eye lids that hid her chocolate brown orbs ever so innocently.
Half growling at the teasing intern thought and smirking at her "innocence", he closed the gap between them only to press his tall and lean body against her back, pushing the both of them into the closet and into a state of oblivion. Having finished ravishing each other to orgasm with sweat to prove it, they showered together again and proceeded to actually get dressed.
After a quick peck on the lip and a promise to meet at lunch, Luke left to have his pre-work breakfast with his boss whom moonlights as his father. Standing in front of the mirror to apply her make-up and to check her look before heading out, she sighed. As much as she despised being judged for how she dressed, she couldn't deny that dressing to kill really helped people that she met with on a daily basis feel more comfortable. Well, comfortable enough to have an insightful and informational conversation with the freelance journalist.
Decked in her Yigal Azrouel Ivory Angora coat, Gucci skirt, Chanel hat and gloves and Marni shoes, she was sure that Nigel would be proud. Peering at her look, she was suddenly overwhelmed with memories of the hushed Runway hallways, Closet fittings with Nigel and barely audible whispers/lip reading conversations with Emily. Without exception, Miranda Priestly as well.
When she didn't think or reminisce those times, she was content and grateful for her current position. When she DID think about the Devil in Prada herself though, she would find her chocolate orbs filled with saltine tears like it did now. She stared at Andrea Sachs who was the reflection in the mirror. The woman whom after five years of supposed moving on, still felt depressingly incomplete on the inside despite looking so complete in her appearance.
Until the next chapter then... I wrote two versions of the 2nd chapter. Putting a poll here, would you prefer Miranda's morning or a continuation with Andrea? Both I can assure you will be femslash smutty-goodness. ;) So review with your selection. :)