And lead us not into temptation
Title: And lead us not into temptation
Author: cattiechaos
Rating: R/NC-17 for explicit sexual content
Fandom: X-Men: First Class
Pairing: Azazel/Riptide
Warnings part one: First Azazel/Riptide fic, first R/NC-17 fic, explicit sexual content, internalized homophobia.
Warnings part two: Sacrilege, second base in a church (yes really), the Lord's Prayer was not meant to be used that way, etc. etc.
Disclaimer: All characters belong to their respective owners, no copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: Having been raised strictly Catholic, Janos struggles to accept his feelings for Azazel and seeks solace by confessing to a priest.
Our Father, who art in Heaven -
They fall into bed tearing at each other’s clothes, hands fumbling to undo belts, Azazel ripping Janos’ shirt open so that blue buttons go flying everywhere. Azazel pins him hard against the mattress, pressing their chests together so that he can hear every thump of Janos’ erratic heartbeat, feel how aroused he is when they have just barely started. Azazel kisses with a hunger that leaves Janos dizzy and gasping for breath, gripped with longing so carnal it can only be a sin.
- Hallowed be thy name.
Desire tumbles from Janos’ lips as he arcs up to meet Azazel, pressing a trail of open-mouthed kisses along his throat and neck. He bites and sucks and licks the scarred red flesh as Azazel works him open with his fingers, groaning unintelligible words in a rough and foreign tongue.
Thy kingdom come, thy will be done -
The deep bass of Azazel’s voice rumbles from his chest as he growls, tail whipping forward to wrap itself around Janos’ cock; he strokes and teases mercilessly until the other man is crying out in desperation, bucking his hips and gasping what could have been prayers or curses or both.
- On Earth as it is in Heaven.
He is lost at sea in the blue of Azazel’s eyes, shockingly vivid against his red skin; they are a fierce, wild blue, muted only by a haze of lust. Azazel grips Janos’ hips with bruising force before thrusting into him with a groan, throwing his head back as he starts up a brutal, almost savage rhythm.
Give us this day our daily bread -
Janos moans against sweat-slicked skin, parting his legs wider so that Azazel can go deeper, bury himself inside him until Janos can’t remember where he stops and where Azazel begins. Azazel’s kisses are like fire and Janos’ gasping breaths are the oxygen that fuels him, heating an inferno so intense it threatens to consume them both.
And forgive us our trespasses -
He grips Janos’ arms with a force that leaves the promise of bruises for days to come, but only because he knows Janos likes this, likes the marks that show the world he belongs to Azazel and Azazel alone.
- As we forgive those who trespass against us.
Janos is losing all sense of who he is as Azazel pounds mercilessly into him, his tail around Janos’ cock driving all thought from his mind as he cries and bucks his hips. He senses the red-skinned man tense as he thrusts, feels the force of his pleasure well up inside of him.
And lead us not into temptation -
Janos comes with a force that ripples through his body and sends shudders racing down his spine; his toes and fingers curl with delight and he hears his neck crack as he throws his head back in abandon, moaning deeply.
- But deliver us from evil.
The sight of Janos utterly undone sends Azazel over the edge, tail lashing furiously as he rides out the force of his orgasm. When he is finished he collapses breathlessly on top of Janos, ever careful not to crush him under his weight. Janos is still trying to remember what it is like to see and breathe again but Azazel laughs wickedly and leans forward to press the gentlest of kisses against the Spaniard’s forehead.
Amen.
Janos jolts awake, prayer beads still in hand, and curses violently.
***
It isn’t the first time he’s dreamed of Azazel, but it is the most vivid; he can’t even look the mutant in the eye at breakfast for fear he will somehow see the truth. All Janos can think is thank God he’s not a telepath because Emma knows almost the instant he enters the kitchen, and a decidedly sly smile curls up the corners of her mouth.
He excuses himself rather hastily after that. He does not dare confront the teleporter with foolish confessions; Azazel is almost a decade older than him and he makes Janos feel like a boy again, too afraid to seize what he so desperately wants.
Shaw does not require his presence, so Janos is granted a few hours’ leave. He can’t deny how he thinks of Azazel or how his body reacts to him, but at the very least he can confess his sins to a priest. His mother may only have been alive for eight years of his life but he vividly remembers her view on their neighbors, the ones who kissed like husband and wife even though they were both men. “Man must not lie with man as he lies with woman, for it is an abomination,” his mother had said, quoting the Scriptures as she was so oft to do. Even now, over a decade later, he remembers those words. He had slept with men in the past but each time had gone to a confessional afterward to absolve his sins, as he is about to do now.
He makes the sign of the cross before stepping over the threshold of the church, dipping his thumb into a bowl of holy water offered by a statue of Jesus the Christ. The statue’s robes are painted a deep, rich red that reminds Janos too much of Azazel for comfort, so he quickly enters the confessional before he can add any more sins to his list.
“Bless me Father for I have sinned,” he murmurs reverently, bowing his head. “It has been five months and eight days since my last confession.”
“Speak,” the priest says, and there is something terribly familiar about his voice but Janos is too distraught to care.
“I have committed the sins of lust and...and sodomy,” he confesses, struggling to find the right words. He hasn’t actually had sex with Azazel, but the sin lay in the thought, not only the deed itself. “Leviticus teaches us that this is an abomination, but for weeks I have prayed and these feelings will not leave.”
The priest is silent, and Janos is afraid that perhaps this sin is too grievous to forgive.
“Why do you like this man?” he asks finally, a faint note of amusement in his words. Why did he sound so familiar?
Janos falters. “Is...important? You must know to forgive?”
“Yes.”
“He is...strong. Powerful. Many are afraid of him, but they do not see him as I do.” It is hard enough to explain what he feels for Azazel, and even harder to do so in English; he wishes the priest were a telepath like Emma, who need only touch his mind to understand. “When Emma has headache from working too hard, he will bring her the chocolates she likes best, to make her smile.” (He doesn’t think it’s worth mentioning that Azazel probably stole those chocolates.) “When Angel lost her grandmother’s earrings she cried for hours until he came back with them late in the night, exhausted. He is this type of man; he does bad things, but he is never cruel - he is good person. But I know it is wrong for me to feel this way.”
“Love is not sin, Janos.”
Janos doesn’t yet realize that he hadn’t told the priest his name.
“But the Bible says -”
“-the Bible says many things. You are a man. You will follow the words in a book or the words in your heart?”
It is in that moment that Janos recognizes the priest’s voice at last, his syntax and faint accent, and he leaps to his feet, blasting the mesh screen away with a gust of wind. Sitting on the other side is Azazel dressed in a priest’s stole, looking mildly surprised that he has been caught.
Janos is terrified - terrified - and he masks this with indignation. “How can you do this in a house of God?” he demands, trying to ignore the fact that his voice shakes slightly. He cannot bear to think of the disgust Azazel must feel toward him or worse, pity.
Azazel shrugs. “I am not Catholic,” he replies noncommittally. He is watching Janos intently, and Janos desperately wishes his mutation were more along the lines of turning invisible or sinking into the ground or even spontaneously combusting, just so he doesn’t have to deal with Azazel looking at him like that.
“You are afraid,” Azazel says pointedly.
“No,” Janos says defiantly, but Azazel cuts him off with a flick of his tail. “Look like me and you learn quickly to sense fear. You are afraid; why?”
“You were not supposed to hear those words. Do they disgust you? Do you wish to kill me? You can try.” His voice shakes, but the fury and humiliation burning inside him is abruptly derailed as Azazel’s tail lashes out and curls around Janos’ wrist. For a split second Janos fully believes the man is about to stab him until Azazel yanks him forward and kisses him with almost bruising force.
And it is so much better than anything Janos had imagined because this was real, this was Azazel kissing him hungrily as if he was fire and Janos was oxygen. Janos kisses back, blood singing in his veins, and unbidden words leap to his mind: “and the Lord God said, it is not good for man to be alone.”
Perhaps it was better to be with a man than no one at all.
Janos could kiss Azazel forever, explore his mouth with his tongue and bite on his lip until they are red and swollen, but Azazel shrugs off his stolen vestment and Janos immediately realizes that underneath that garb Azazel is wearing - oh - nothing at all. He grins wickedly, flicking his tail against the front of Janos’ pants, but the Spaniard grabs it with a glare. “Not in a church,” he hisses, even as he hooks his leg over Azazel’s bare waist. Azazel smirks, and they teleport away in a flash of fire and brimstone.
The church has to be blessed by a priest after that, but Janos cannot bring himself to care.
Fin.
Author's Note: Twelve years of Catholic school and then this happened. I regret nothing.
As aforementioned, this is my first Azazel/Riptide story so feedback would be sincerely appreciated and loved!
Author: cattiechaos
Rating: R/NC-17 for explicit sexual content
Fandom: X-Men: First Class
Pairing: Azazel/Riptide
Warnings part one: First Azazel/Riptide fic, first R/NC-17 fic, explicit sexual content, internalized homophobia.
Warnings part two: Sacrilege, second base in a church (yes really), the Lord's Prayer was not meant to be used that way, etc. etc.
Disclaimer: All characters belong to their respective owners, no copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: Having been raised strictly Catholic, Janos struggles to accept his feelings for Azazel and seeks solace by confessing to a priest.
Our Father, who art in Heaven -
They fall into bed tearing at each other’s clothes, hands fumbling to undo belts, Azazel ripping Janos’ shirt open so that blue buttons go flying everywhere. Azazel pins him hard against the mattress, pressing their chests together so that he can hear every thump of Janos’ erratic heartbeat, feel how aroused he is when they have just barely started. Azazel kisses with a hunger that leaves Janos dizzy and gasping for breath, gripped with longing so carnal it can only be a sin.
- Hallowed be thy name.
Desire tumbles from Janos’ lips as he arcs up to meet Azazel, pressing a trail of open-mouthed kisses along his throat and neck. He bites and sucks and licks the scarred red flesh as Azazel works him open with his fingers, groaning unintelligible words in a rough and foreign tongue.
Thy kingdom come, thy will be done -
The deep bass of Azazel’s voice rumbles from his chest as he growls, tail whipping forward to wrap itself around Janos’ cock; he strokes and teases mercilessly until the other man is crying out in desperation, bucking his hips and gasping what could have been prayers or curses or both.
- On Earth as it is in Heaven.
He is lost at sea in the blue of Azazel’s eyes, shockingly vivid against his red skin; they are a fierce, wild blue, muted only by a haze of lust. Azazel grips Janos’ hips with bruising force before thrusting into him with a groan, throwing his head back as he starts up a brutal, almost savage rhythm.
Give us this day our daily bread -
Janos moans against sweat-slicked skin, parting his legs wider so that Azazel can go deeper, bury himself inside him until Janos can’t remember where he stops and where Azazel begins. Azazel’s kisses are like fire and Janos’ gasping breaths are the oxygen that fuels him, heating an inferno so intense it threatens to consume them both.
And forgive us our trespasses -
He grips Janos’ arms with a force that leaves the promise of bruises for days to come, but only because he knows Janos likes this, likes the marks that show the world he belongs to Azazel and Azazel alone.
- As we forgive those who trespass against us.
Janos is losing all sense of who he is as Azazel pounds mercilessly into him, his tail around Janos’ cock driving all thought from his mind as he cries and bucks his hips. He senses the red-skinned man tense as he thrusts, feels the force of his pleasure well up inside of him.
And lead us not into temptation -
Janos comes with a force that ripples through his body and sends shudders racing down his spine; his toes and fingers curl with delight and he hears his neck crack as he throws his head back in abandon, moaning deeply.
- But deliver us from evil.
The sight of Janos utterly undone sends Azazel over the edge, tail lashing furiously as he rides out the force of his orgasm. When he is finished he collapses breathlessly on top of Janos, ever careful not to crush him under his weight. Janos is still trying to remember what it is like to see and breathe again but Azazel laughs wickedly and leans forward to press the gentlest of kisses against the Spaniard’s forehead.
Amen.
Janos jolts awake, prayer beads still in hand, and curses violently.
***
It isn’t the first time he’s dreamed of Azazel, but it is the most vivid; he can’t even look the mutant in the eye at breakfast for fear he will somehow see the truth. All Janos can think is thank God he’s not a telepath because Emma knows almost the instant he enters the kitchen, and a decidedly sly smile curls up the corners of her mouth.
He excuses himself rather hastily after that. He does not dare confront the teleporter with foolish confessions; Azazel is almost a decade older than him and he makes Janos feel like a boy again, too afraid to seize what he so desperately wants.
Shaw does not require his presence, so Janos is granted a few hours’ leave. He can’t deny how he thinks of Azazel or how his body reacts to him, but at the very least he can confess his sins to a priest. His mother may only have been alive for eight years of his life but he vividly remembers her view on their neighbors, the ones who kissed like husband and wife even though they were both men. “Man must not lie with man as he lies with woman, for it is an abomination,” his mother had said, quoting the Scriptures as she was so oft to do. Even now, over a decade later, he remembers those words. He had slept with men in the past but each time had gone to a confessional afterward to absolve his sins, as he is about to do now.
He makes the sign of the cross before stepping over the threshold of the church, dipping his thumb into a bowl of holy water offered by a statue of Jesus the Christ. The statue’s robes are painted a deep, rich red that reminds Janos too much of Azazel for comfort, so he quickly enters the confessional before he can add any more sins to his list.
“Bless me Father for I have sinned,” he murmurs reverently, bowing his head. “It has been five months and eight days since my last confession.”
“Speak,” the priest says, and there is something terribly familiar about his voice but Janos is too distraught to care.
“I have committed the sins of lust and...and sodomy,” he confesses, struggling to find the right words. He hasn’t actually had sex with Azazel, but the sin lay in the thought, not only the deed itself. “Leviticus teaches us that this is an abomination, but for weeks I have prayed and these feelings will not leave.”
The priest is silent, and Janos is afraid that perhaps this sin is too grievous to forgive.
“Why do you like this man?” he asks finally, a faint note of amusement in his words. Why did he sound so familiar?
Janos falters. “Is...important? You must know to forgive?”
“Yes.”
“He is...strong. Powerful. Many are afraid of him, but they do not see him as I do.” It is hard enough to explain what he feels for Azazel, and even harder to do so in English; he wishes the priest were a telepath like Emma, who need only touch his mind to understand. “When Emma has headache from working too hard, he will bring her the chocolates she likes best, to make her smile.” (He doesn’t think it’s worth mentioning that Azazel probably stole those chocolates.) “When Angel lost her grandmother’s earrings she cried for hours until he came back with them late in the night, exhausted. He is this type of man; he does bad things, but he is never cruel - he is good person. But I know it is wrong for me to feel this way.”
“Love is not sin, Janos.”
Janos doesn’t yet realize that he hadn’t told the priest his name.
“But the Bible says -”
“-the Bible says many things. You are a man. You will follow the words in a book or the words in your heart?”
It is in that moment that Janos recognizes the priest’s voice at last, his syntax and faint accent, and he leaps to his feet, blasting the mesh screen away with a gust of wind. Sitting on the other side is Azazel dressed in a priest’s stole, looking mildly surprised that he has been caught.
Janos is terrified - terrified - and he masks this with indignation. “How can you do this in a house of God?” he demands, trying to ignore the fact that his voice shakes slightly. He cannot bear to think of the disgust Azazel must feel toward him or worse, pity.
Azazel shrugs. “I am not Catholic,” he replies noncommittally. He is watching Janos intently, and Janos desperately wishes his mutation were more along the lines of turning invisible or sinking into the ground or even spontaneously combusting, just so he doesn’t have to deal with Azazel looking at him like that.
“You are afraid,” Azazel says pointedly.
“No,” Janos says defiantly, but Azazel cuts him off with a flick of his tail. “Look like me and you learn quickly to sense fear. You are afraid; why?”
“You were not supposed to hear those words. Do they disgust you? Do you wish to kill me? You can try.” His voice shakes, but the fury and humiliation burning inside him is abruptly derailed as Azazel’s tail lashes out and curls around Janos’ wrist. For a split second Janos fully believes the man is about to stab him until Azazel yanks him forward and kisses him with almost bruising force.
And it is so much better than anything Janos had imagined because this was real, this was Azazel kissing him hungrily as if he was fire and Janos was oxygen. Janos kisses back, blood singing in his veins, and unbidden words leap to his mind: “and the Lord God said, it is not good for man to be alone.”
Perhaps it was better to be with a man than no one at all.
Janos could kiss Azazel forever, explore his mouth with his tongue and bite on his lip until they are red and swollen, but Azazel shrugs off his stolen vestment and Janos immediately realizes that underneath that garb Azazel is wearing - oh - nothing at all. He grins wickedly, flicking his tail against the front of Janos’ pants, but the Spaniard grabs it with a glare. “Not in a church,” he hisses, even as he hooks his leg over Azazel’s bare waist. Azazel smirks, and they teleport away in a flash of fire and brimstone.
The church has to be blessed by a priest after that, but Janos cannot bring himself to care.
Fin.
Author's Note: Twelve years of Catholic school and then this happened. I regret nothing.
As aforementioned, this is my first Azazel/Riptide story so feedback would be sincerely appreciated and loved!