Rated Teen for subject matter and general naughtiness…
Trench, but more my silly humor than romance
Spoilers: All after BMS, everything is fair game.
Totally got this idea from something Trent said in Frankie and Avery. don't ask's fic "The Night of the Hunt"
Trent sank gratefully into the dim solitude his private quarters provided. It had been a long and tiring day, even more so than usual with the sudden media interest that had to be quenched. Trent raised his fair eyebrows at the object in question, sitting so innocently on his dresser until it could be securely placed back in the vaults. Though he was tired, and his eyes had stared too long at computer screens and press releases all day, he studied the statue carefully. The erotic artifact had been the center of enough attention to last a century. Already, photos edited with discreet little black boxes were being run in the papers, and had even been on the news. Worse, it was all connected to his name now. No matter how hard he fought down that infuriating blush that tinged even his ears pink, or how calmly he explained to the press, again and again, it was a valuable art artifact he had hired the Coven to steal as a security test, it was still racy, and now it was permanently connected with his image. He was fairly sure he could scrap any remaining ideas he had concerning the mayoral election.
Trent sighed, eyeing the thing speculatively. He had explained, again and again, it was kept in his vault, not his bedroom. It was art. Nothing else. The end.
He turned the offending statue around to view the back angle, shaking his head in a mix of awe and frustration. It had to be this item that Rachel stole, of course. Of every other priceless piece kept there, it had to be this. Rachel loved making a scene, especially if it meant embarrassing him.
Trent couldn't help but grin at the thought of Rachel and the new heights she had reached in the art of making a scene. He had known she was bolder than brass, but still, to interrupt his speech, in Fountain Square, completely nude…that had been something else. Almost worth the political trouble and media blitz. He glanced at the statue again, and cursed softly under his breath at the heat he felt brush across his cheeks all the way to his ear tips.
Trent deep green eyes were bright now, studying the statue with a new interest. He didn't bother to rise, though he knew the door to his private quarters was rarely locked, he knew no one would be imprudent enough to enter without announcing themselves. He got up, the statue completely forgotten now. It was in one of his personal files, he knew. He had requested it almost immediately afterwards.
Trent sighed softly when his searching hand extracted the file in question. It only held one paper, one photo, to be exact. He made his way slowly back to his bed. God, she was beautiful. He knew he was blushing still, staring at her completely bared body. It was one of the first photos taken, when the power was still thick upon her and she hadn't had a moment to regard her own embarrassment. Her red hair raged in the wind like a halo of fire, contrasting richly against the perfect, pale cream of her skin. Her nipples were hard, Trent suspected more from the excitement of the run than the cold. His gaze fell inevitably on the roan shadow between her legs. He wanted to run a finger down her body, but knew it wouldn't do anything for the longevity of the photo. And Trent wanted to keep this photo for quite some time.
The lights were already dim, and he loosened his pants one-handed, still holding the photo before him, entranced by the sight. Rachel could think the damned statue was elf porn all she wanted. After all, she never needed to know the truth of it.