#mazifer

When Mazikeen enters Lucifer’s quarters, they appear to be empty. Nothing is missing, though. At least, it doesn’t seem so. Every object and piece of furniture is still exactly where it is supposed to be —and Mazikeen knows the Morningstar is meticulous. But the place feels devoid of emotions, memories, power, essence… well, everything.

With a curious frown, Mazikeen invites herself further in.

“My Lord?”

No answer.

“Lucifer?”

Still no answer, but Mazikeen finally finds her master standing on their balcony, gaze entirely lost into the distance. In their hands, she notices a small hourglass, framed with obsidian and filled with dark sand. Lucifer is absentmindedly brushing their fingertips along its shape, and she can practically see them extracting all the emotions, memories, power, essence… well, everything the hourglass has ever absorbed since it found its place in the room.

When she stops a few paces away from the balcony and clears her throat, Lucifer turns around, both surprised to see her and entirely unbothered in their action.

“Oh, there you are,” they simply acknowledge softly.

“Are you alright, Sire?”

Mazikeen is a strong and mostly heartless being, but she genuinely cares about Lucifer. It always makes them smile.

“Why, yes, Mazikeen. Why should you ask?”

Mazikeen glances around the chambers again, takes in the emotional emptiness that reigns there, and sighs.

“I… You seem quite distant lately. Completely gone, I should say. And it feels… as though everything that once made Hell what it was has gone with you.”

Lucifer’s lips twitch and stretch a bit more at these words, and they let out a low, impassive hum before turning back to the vastness of Hell.

“Lucifer,” Mazikeen commands, closing the distance in long strides. “Speak your mind at once.”

Lucifer’s head snaps at her, and their left brow slowly comes up in a perfect arch. Nobody tells the Lightbringer what to do —only fools, and Mazikeen on very rare and very intimate occasions. Lucifer would usually smirk at her defiance. But for once, they merely ignore her and let their gaze once again fall on the horizon.

Something is on their mind, indeed. And it is undeniably time for them to come clean.

“Look out there, Mazikeen. Look very carefully. For tomorrow, at this hour, all that you see will be no more.”

A shudder cuts across the demon’s body, and her hand instinctively closes around her dagger.

“How do you mean?”

“I quit,” Lucifer states without any particular emotion —save, perhaps for a hint of weariness. “And, tomorrow, I will be freeing all of you. All of us.”

A multitude of questions come to Mazikeen’s mind, questions about the how and why —mostly about the how. But much like their Holy Father, Lucifer sometimes works in mysterious ways, and Mazikeen is not currently interested in understanding the powers that could possibly allow them to free the denizens of Hell from their imprisonment. She is much more interested in what it means for her.

“And what will we do then?”

Now, Lucifer smirks.

“‘We’? Who is ‘we’ exactly?”

Mazikeen’s jaw clenches. Lucifer is well aware of what she means, and she hates that she has to say it out loud.

“You and I. Me. With you.”

“Mazikeen…”

That’s all Lucifer says —her name. And there it is, the dynamics of their relationship in a nutshell. Lucifer always gets Mazikeen to speak very clearly about her every thought and feeling, even when no words are in fact needed, but they will always have the right to remain cryptic and to leave her waiting for an answer.

“Why?” is her next question.

But the expression on Lucifer’s angelic face remains unchanged, and she is met with silence once more.

“Answer me!” she finally roars, her dagger flinging at Lucifer’s throat.

Lucifer knows what Mazikeen wants, and it is so much more than an explanation as to their latest decision. Are they abandoning her? Do they care about her the way she cares about them? Has her position as consort ever meant anything? These are all the questions the daughter of Lilith is begging for answers to.

But Lucifer will not say a word. Only the answers Mazikeen finds for herself will be the ones she deems true and remembers in the end, anyway.

Moved by heartbreak and tension that she fears might now never be resolved, Mazikeen practically throws herself at Lucifer’s lips, kissing them hard, and the ruler of Hell lets her, almost amused.

Again unsatisfied with their reaction, Mazikeen growls into the kiss and leans forward, pushing Lucifer towards their bed, the tip of her weapon puncturing the skin between their collarbones. The hourglass Lucifer was holding crashes onto the marble floor, spilling its contents over the cold surface, effectively signalling that a time has come to its end. But nobody pays any mind.

When the back of Lucifer’s knees hit the mattress and they let themself fall on it, Mazikeen lowers her knife in one swift motion. Meeting practically no resistance, the blade slices Lucifer’s robe open and scrapes their torso.

They gasp then. It’s not that Mazikeen was never the dominant one during sex, it’s that it was always Lucifer’s idea. For the she-demon to express this dominance on her own now, without Lucifer’s command or accord, is a whole new thing. But if the Morningstar is going to abdicate, they might as well let go of all kinds of power —for the time being, at least. Their smile comes back, this time filled with arousal.

Both Lucifer’s sexes are already more than prepared for whatever it is that Mazikeen wants to take from them. Seeing the despair, the need, the anger on her face, and knowing this time is most certainly the last… They could not be more turned on.

“Well, go on,” they coo, when she doesn’t immediately make the next move.

“Quiet,” Mazikeen clips.

If Lucifer doesn’t want to say what she needs them to say, then she doesn’t want to hear them at all. Besides, she has never had Lucifer so willing, so open for anything that might happen, so ready to give up their power. She needs a moment to apprehend the endless possibilities she now has.

Lucifer knows that.

“Stop thinking,” they say, their hips thrusting forward to better display the hardness of their cock.

Suddenly, Mazikeen plunges forward, her thighs strong around Lucifer’s to hinder any further provocation, and her left hand planted on their sternum while the other brings the knife to their throat again.

“Do not tell me what to do. Not now. Not any more.”

“I wouldn’t if you at least did something.”

Mazikeen sneers at Lucifer’s mockery and the way their hands draw arrogant arabesques as they speak. She hates it now for some reason. Her mind is made up. Lucifer is not to speak —and she is going to find a way to take the words and the very concept of thinking out of their mind—, but they are also not to move. They want to “free” her; she is going to enjoy that freedom.

In a few, quick, experimented moves, she finds the red silk sashes that Lucifer has used time and time again on her and ties their wrists to the bedposts. The bed is large, Lucifer’s arms are stretched like Christ’s on his cross.

Mazikeen knows how to tie tight knots —her function in Hell ensures that. Still, she knows Lucifer could tear the silk without much effort. So she takes her time, her eyes boring into theirs as if daring them to go against her will. Lucifer is still smiling as she ties their first wrist. But by the time she starts the second knot, their breath has considerably intensified, and their cock is as swollen as their cunt is soaked.

Truth is, Lucifer sees the pain in Mazikeen’s eyes —genuine and raw. Their lack of consideration has truly struck a chord this time, and Mazikeen is going to punish them for it. So be it. They deserve it. They want it.

“I know what—”

“Ah-ah.”

Mazikeen doesn’t let Lucifer finish. Done with her bondage, she promptly comes back to straddle them and presses the flat of her blade to their mouth to shush them. The way their pupils blow as she does so doesn’t go unnoticed and she hums in appreciation of their strangely docile submission.

Soon, she lowers her hand and runs the edge of her dagger along Lucifer’s jaw and down their throat before she begins drawing symbols on their torso with the point of the weapon. The pressure she puts on the blade is directly dependent on Lucifer’s volume. The louder they moan, the harder she presses. It takes two cuts and her pricking at their left nipple for them to understand.

“Good,” she says when Lucifer finally shuts their mouth.

But the energy the Lightbringer doesn’t put into their moans, they put into the constant rolling of their hips. It is turning Mazikeen on, they know it. They can practically sense how hard her walls are contracting to try to keep her juices from seeping through the clothes she is still stubbornly wearing.

At one point, Mazikeen’s patterns on her sovereign’s skin become recognisable as she begins to trace her mother’s sigil —a sign of affiliation for the Lilim that she now uses to mark Lucifer as hers. The possessiveness in that gesture sends a surge of heat right into their core and they cannot help another vigorous thrust into Mazikeen’s pelvis.

It makes Mazikeen moan at first —and rather pathetically, too. But she quickly pulls herself together.

“Stop that,” she barks. “If you keep moving, this…” Her blade moves to the thin leather of Lucifer’s wings. “Is where I will cut next.”

Lucifer hisses like a cobra at that. Their wings are arguably their most sensitive body part; this is not how they like to have them teased.

“I know,” Mazikeen continues. “So… Stay still. After all, it’s not that hard, is it? So you’ve told me.”

Mazikeen’s behaviour is starting to get on Lucifer’s nerves, yet their shaft throbs under her while their cunt hole is begging to be filled. It is good, they realise, to not have any decision to make, to only have to take everything they will be given. The novelty of it all is perhaps the most thrilling thing that has happened to them in millennia.

When Mazikeen is done with her sigil, her irregular pressure has drawn blood in several places. She runs her finger through it, not even trying to be apologetic. She doesn’t want to soothe, she wants to make it burn even more, to prevent Lucifer from healing themself, to have them let it scar naturally and mark them for the foreseeable future.

She brings her blood-covered fingers to Lucifer’s lips then, shoving them in their mouth in a way that needs no added commentary. Lucifer knows what to do and starts to lick their consort’s digits clean, their eyelids fluttering. Mazikeen’s breath hitches as her submissive tendencies briefly return —she cannot help but find it arousing when Lucifer is enjoying themself. So, to hide her vulnerability and to regain control over the situation, she busies herself with wet, full-mouth kisses and long licks down every cut and scrape until she reaches Lucifer’s pelvic bone.

There she stops, leaving their cock wanting. It is already so hard and aching, pointing upwards as if trying to reach her, just beginning to leak precum.

“Mazikeen…”

“Did I tell you to stop?”

In one, powerful jerk of her wrist, the demon makes Lucifer’s mouth close around her fingers again as she presses her bloodied fingertips to their tongue. Lucifer resumes sucking.

Meanwhile, Mazikeen brings her blade to Lucifer’s thighs, teetering between teasing and slicing. She does that for a while until Lucifer’s cock threatens to burst and their vagina clench in unison. Only then does she bring the cold metal up their crotch —at their testicles and what is visible of their folds first, then up their length.

Lucifer rapidly loses their composure as the sensations this elicits are too pleasurable to contain. They moan around Mazikeen’s fingers. She allows it.

It doesn’t take long for the head of Lucifer’s cock to be so gorged with blood that is turns to a beautiful purplish hue. Mazikeen seems unbothered by the Lightbringer’s discomfort and she keeps circling the glans at a torturing pace.

But the pleasure soon overtakes Lucifer. Their scrotum contracts and their shaft sends thick ropes of semen onto their stomach. Mazikeen immediately takes the blade away then, denying further stimulation —this way, at least.

“Ngh… You—”

Lucifer barely has time to complain about this ruined climax before Mazikeen flips the weapon in her hand, pushes the ruler’s sack aside and fills their hole with the haft, giving it something to clench around.

“Oh, fuck you!”

“Mmh. Maybe later.”

Mazikeen gives Lucifer’s cunt a few falsely apologetic pumps, just enough to kickstart a vaginal orgasm instead, and then pulls back to admire her work. Only then does she start undressing under the Morningstar’s angered but passionate gaze, leaving them writhing as they ride their high, unable to squeeze their legs lest they cut their thighs on the blade sticking out between them. She takes her time for this, too, debating with herself whether she truly loves seeing Lucifer like this. The stickiness on her folds and thighs and the way her clothes stick to her skin suggest she does.

“Happy?” Lucifer pants once they are finally done coming.

“Not quite,” Mazikeen replies, perfectly imitating the usual soft but somewhat detached tone Lucifer constantly uses with her, even on important matters.

Slowly, like a panther, she crawls back on the bed, heading straight for the white stains on Lucifer’s skin. Their semen is an aphrodisiac that she will not let go to waste, and so she licks it off, letting it mingle with the previous taste of blood on her tongue. Lucifer groans, evidently not caring for the silk restraints that hinder them from pulling her up for a kiss to share the aroma, but still not doing anything about it. Tomorrow they will be free. Tonight, they want to let Mazikeen be their jailer for a while.

But that doesn’t stop them from voicing their discontent.

“Will you stop acting like a child?” they say through gritted teeth. “You have made your point.”

“I decide if and when I have made my point,” the demon retorts. “And you are to keep quiet until I have.”

“Make me.”

“Fine.”

Swiftly, Mazikeen slithers further up until her legs frame Lucifer’s perfect face. Her intent is clear and she doesn’t give them any time to protest or breathe before she lowers herself onto their mouth.

Lucifer briefly throws her a dark glance, a silent promise of future retaliation, but beyond the half-genuine annoyance, their eyes once again betray them. So they close them before letting their tongue out.

The muscle parts Mazikeen’s folds with ease, having done that same movement countless times in all those billion years of shared damnation. It moves past her lips and aims for her entrance right away as Lucifer knows she is always most sensitive there.

“Ahh!”

Mazikeen is already close. She finds that remembering that the mortals scream the Creator’s name during their fornication helps. But the calm she manages to find is short-lived. Soon, too soon, her breaths solely come out in loud pants and her hips buck into Lucifer’s face with full strength. She makes them groan and whine and sigh, and she loves that they have chosen to accept their bonds and therefore cannot hold her waist or rear to guide her movements.

“Lucifer…”

Even Mazikeen has no idea whether this is a warning or a plea. Irrelevant. Lucifer is already throwing their head back so their tongue rides up her slit and finds her enlarged clitoris under its protective hood.

“Yes!”

Mazikeen must face reality: no matter how hard she tries to be the master of her own pleasure, Lucifer will always know how to trigger it better than she does herself. There is no point in resisting what she so desperately needs now, so she lets herself come on Lucifer’s face, head thrown back, breasts bouncing with the force of her rutting.

She comes, but it seems hardly enough, and her body demands more not even a second after her first orgasm is triggered. She presses lower and harder, letting her full weight crush Lucifer beneath her, and guides her clitoris up and down their tongue until she makes herself come a second time on it, much more satisfied now.

“Look at you,” Lucifer derides when Mazikeen pulls back. “Not even capable of coming on your own. So needy.”

“I am not needy.”

“Oh, yes you are. And you like it because you know it is what I want.”

“Fuck you.”

“Done already,” Lucifer mocks. “Now I believe it is my turn.”

At last, the Lord of Hell jerks their wrists free from their restraints, the silk snapping in half with no trouble at all. Now free, they can finally yank Mazikeen’s face down and taste the mix of fluids on her tongue. She complies and returns the kiss more avidly than she perhaps wanted to let on. It makes Lucifer moan.

And then, in a split second, the roles are reversed once again, and Mazikeen finds herself under the monarch. She cannot help a twinge of disappointment at how quickly her little reprisal ended, but she also cannot stop her pupils from blowing in admiration at the way Lucifer’s wings spread in front of her, both menacing and comforting.

The first thing that Lucifer does now that they are in charge as they should be, is to pull out Mazikeen’s dagger from their cunt. The weapon leaves a gaping hole behind and Lucifer lets out an uncontrolled whimper at the sensation, but that is not their main focus right now. Instead, eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth, and Lucifer shoves the knife’s handle into their consort’s mouth.

“Suck,” they command as she did before.

Defeated, Mazikeen does as she is told.

Looking down, she notices the stickiness between Lucifer’s thighs reflecting the amber hues of the various torches lit around their chambers, but also the renewed verve in the sovereign’s cock, the way it points at her in a near-admonishing way for ruining its peak earlier. She feels almost sorry for it.

When satisfied with Mazikeen’s suction on her own weapon, Lucifer pulls the dagger out of her mouth and sets it aside. But they barely give her time to properly catch her breath before their hand come flying at her throat, deliciously cutting off her air supply.

“Argh…”

“You are mine. Not the other way around,” Lucifer asserts with no room for debate.

Still Mazikeen nods with no hesitation, so Lucifer is pleased and considers not teasing her the way she did. It feels like there is no more time, anyway. All they want now is simply to take her once last time until the world around them goes dark and they forget about the last decision they ever made as monarch in this realm before tomorrow arrives and it is time to leave it.

And so they align their tip with her hole, just poking at it.

“Say you want this. Say you need me.”

At first, Mazikeen clenches her jaw, preventing the words from blurting out. It only takes one slight pressure on her neck and another request from Lucifer for her to break.

“Please… Take me.”

“Do you need this?”

“I do.”

And these last syllables come out as a pathetically needy wail, indeed, and it is all the confirmation Lucifer needs to push forward, sheathing their sex balls-deep inside Mazikeen.

She is wet, perhaps wetter than she has ever been, and yet they find her to be a little tight. Unlike what she did to them, they allow her a second to let her walls mould around their girth.

“Let me in,” they urge, though a tad softer than all their previous commands.

Mazikeen gulps and closes her eyes, and soon she feels her cunt welcoming Lucifer’s cock for what she perfectly understands to be the last time. The pang of sadness in her chest could almost make her cry, but already Lucifer is pounding into her and the tears don’t even have time to form.

Both are panting and moaning now, steadily chasing their next orgasm. Lucifer especially loses themself into the sensation, committing the feeling of Mazikeen’s velvety walls to memory. She feels so impossibly good, it is enough to make them question their decision to leave Hell without her for a moment.

It is even worse when Mazikeen, despite the lack of air, has the presence of mind to stretch her arm and reach behind them to finger their cunt while they plunge increasingly faster into her own. She practically doesn’t have to do a thing, the back and forth of their hips doing all the work for her.

The dual stimulation is too much for Lucifer. A few more thrusts, and their hips stutter messily as they finally reach the actual, mind-boggling orgasm they have been craving, and they shove their cock as deep as physically possible into Mazikeen’s warmth.

At least, the daughter of Lilith reached one of her initial goals as Lucifer temporarily loses all ability to think. They come with a guttural cry that vaguely resembles her name and, as they do, they release the tension on her neck, allowing her to scream their name in return while she joins them in their release.

But in her vulnerable state, all the pent-up emotions from Lucifer’s announcement as well as from the past come clashing and erupting in a loud, bursting fit of tears.

Lucifer knows not to comment on it. Mazikeen does not cry, she cannot be weak, that is not what she was made for. But these feelings go deeper and beyond general understanding, and it is important she expresses them now, for once Lucifer sends her away tomorrow and she is out there on her own, the opportunity will no longer arise.

“I’m sorry,” Lucifer whispers more gently as they gather Mazikeen against them. “I am so sorry.”

They repeat the words again and again while planting soft, featherlight kisses everywhere they can reach on her face, even on that rotten part of her flesh that never bothered them and that they have always found so imperfectly beautiful.

“Forgive me. I have to do this,” Lucifer then says. “I need you to understand.”

As the quiet apology leaves their mouth, Lucifer resumes their penetration, much more tender now, as if making Mazikeen feel physically better could somehow repair the damage their decision has done.

But Mazikeen gladly accepts the attention she is now being given. She adores Lucifer and all kinds of sex with them. But the gentle sex, the sweet lovemaking is the rarest, a once-in-a-millennia sort of thing that she must cherish while she has it. Besides, soft passion is arguably the best aftercare one could get after mindless pounding.

So she pulls herself up to capture Lucifer’s lips in a passionate kiss, and they reply just as deeply, making her believe for a moment that they might actually feel something genuine for her —something more than mere affection, that is.

Soon the grinding intensifies, not in force or speed but in intent. And when Lucifer and Mazikeen are not kissing, they are still not far apart, breathing and moaning into each other’s mouth. Mazikeen's nails dig into Lucifer's skin, she keeps calling their name like a mantra. Her hips roll into theirs in harmony and, for the first time, sex is no longer a battle but a joint effort towards something even more beautiful.

At one point their eyes lock, and it is all the motivation Mazikeen needs to reveal her deepest secrets.

“I love you,” she says somewhere between a moan and a weep.

The words instantly trigger Lucifer’s last orgasm and then hers. It is much less powerful than the previous ones. It doesn’t matter. Lucifer holds Mazikeen tight against their chest as they spurt their seed as deep into her as they can with a long sigh.

“Thank you,” they simply say when it is all over.

They lie together after that last orgasm, their skin still slick with sweat. Mazikeen looks around the chambers. Their shared essence and emotions are the only left here —Lucifer has made the rest disappear, turned the room vacant, and reduced the life they had managed to build for themselves in this wretched place to ashes.

She has to come to terms with it. Tomorrow, at this hour, all that she sees will be no more, including that tiny spark of love she thought she just saw in Lucifer’s eyes.

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