[Lucifer pays attention to every inch of skin that's displayed, lingers on every piece of fabric that slides slowly off a waiting, eager body. Mortals can be downright breathtaking -- he knows now how so many Nephilim were made once upon a time.

More than that, he enjoys Francis, the way he's eager and open. It's so easily read. If he minds the burns or the scars, Lucifer doesn't seem to show it. Everyone down here bears the marks of their sins in one way or another after all.]

Much.

[There's a teasing grin as he goes to peel off the remainder of his own clothes, tossing them carelessly aside. Beneath the fabric is unmarked, pale skin that has that unnatural glow about it, the same as the rest of him. He's already half-hard, and he doesn't seem to hold any shame about it.]

Lie back on the bed and spread your legs for me, darling. I want you to do as I say... You're such a lovely display already, I'd like to continue to watch.

For now, at least.