Title: the grace of your eyes
Fandom: american gods/lucifer
Rating: teen
Length: 435 words
Content notes: sex & violence mentions, not more-so than either canon material though
Author notes: it's been a while but my tag is still here, yay \o/ also for the femslash100100 sappho table, 15. stand to face me beloved & american gods is a new fandom for me



Mazikeen is often attracted to herself- and not only literally- she loves the taste of desperation and hunger and pain on any skin. If her eyes are closed and she’s had just enough to drink, the nostalgia might even fade enough to feel like home.

It’s been so long since she hungered for the divine- and she still doesn’t like thinking of Amenadiel like that, in the past tense- that she nearly forgot what it felt like. To crave something pure, something God made and loved without faults. To leave messy fingerprints all over, oil on glass.

Only there’s almost too much power coming from the woman sitting at the bar, and Maze is even more curious. There’s not that many options if she isn’t an angel, and a smarter demon would stay unnoticed or run.

She smells like a half-blood, almost like a jinn, a demonic goddess. A beautiful contradiction, and it clicks with a sudden snap, Mazikeen approaching her before she can even think the word patience or caution.

“That whole devouring people through sex? Tight.”

Big brown eyes look up at her, smooth as polished stone. “I don’t know what you mean.” Close up, Mazikeen is positive of her identity, sits at the bar stool beside her.

“Of course not,” Maze agrees with a flirtatious wink. “But I’d be happy to sail through your bermuda triangle anytime.”

Bilquis cracks a smile, near radiant, and all the humans inch closer, flies to honey. Mazikeen doesn’t move, but she feels the urge, has never beheld such beauty.

“Your kind usually fears me,” her sharp canines glisten, and Maze is nearly caught in the trap, to feel those bright teeth just once against her neck before being absorbed would be worth it-

But then Lucifer would be alone, and she’s fairly certain being consumed would permanently end her, rather than send her back to a better place. She shrugs, and their audience has drawn closer, like mindless slutty zombies from those cheap horror films. She idly wonders if the humans realize they’ve started pulling at their clothes and pawing at one another. “Unlike these chumps, I’m not a willing sacrifice. Do you need more than, what, a hundred people tonight?”

Bilquis laughs, leaning forwards and capturing her lips in a kiss. The pure power, the lust and love flooding her veins nearly overwhelms Maze. She doesn’t know when the kiss started or stopped, only that her lips are numb now and Bilquis is glowing, the masses pressing against them.

“Always my little demon. Love is never satisfied, always yearning to shape or shift or deepen.”