Azazel, Riptide and Words Unspoken
Or, Writing with Half-formed concepts and WAY too much sap. At one am.
Yup. I don;t know. I'm pretty sure I stole the "I've always been able to hear you' thing from a Manga somewhere, and if i could remember where or what the exact line was, I'd own up, but yeah. Just saying I don;t think it's horribly original.
ALSO: This is not my general headcanon for them, but I REALLY liked the thought of that one line, so thus, Mute!Riptide. I kinda dig it as a plot device. (Thought I honestly prefer a really bitchy, sarcastic Riptide in all things. It's more fun.)
Yup. There's NO POINT TO THIS. I just... did it. Sort of written over a couple of days, un-beta-ed, so there are probably problems everywhere. Begging y'all's pardon for that, point 'em out if there are huge glaring errors.
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Words Unspoken: Azazel/Riptide
You don’t know when it happened, but sometime in the past four years, between the slow, pained conversations you have to write out, the long nights where he gives in and talks to you, just talking, because you’re the only one who will sit there and listen, between the bruises he leaves on your back from your sparring and the triumph that wells up in you whenever you manage to catch him by surprise and knock him on his ass... somewhere along the way you fell for him. Hard. Your brother would kill you if he knew. Not just because Estevao is a priest, and the thought of his youngest brother harboring such a sin- lusting after another man? It would put him into a holy rage. No. Estevao, pious, religious Estevao, what he could never understand is how you’ve managed to fall in love with a demon.
Azazel looks the part, anyway. His skin is the sort of red you’ve only ever seen in paintings, and he’s got the same sly grin and short goatee that fit so well with the pictures of demons Estevao showed you in the bible when you were small. He dresses like the rest of Shaw’s crew- that is to say, well- but he fights with the oldest sword you’ve ever seen. And his tail- long, flexible, and deadly. It only takes a few weeks for you to notice how it moves like an extension of his thoughts. You can’t help but relate it to the way your cat’s used to. He gets irritated when he catches you smiling one time, but that only makes you laugh. Azazel seems perplexed, but after a moment he just laughs along with you. That was three months after you joined Shaw and the others. Two days later you catch him watching you as you practice-Shaw’s orders- and give him a dirty look. It makes him laugh again, and you notice his eyes are so stunningly blue it hurts.
Azazel never says anything when you ask him if he really is a demon, but he smiles and won’t quite look you in the eye. Emma always makes that noise- the one where she’s reading something in someone’s mind and thinks it’s funny and is trying not to laugh. She makes that noise, and pats his arm. Shaw says Azazel is the same as the rest of you- a new breed of humanity, above everyone else. You believe him, but you think Azazel likes to be called a demon sometimes. You don’t understand, but you like the crooked way he smiles.
He laughed at you once, and you were worried you’d done something stupid, but he’d just reached out and wrapped his fingers around the cross you wore on a chain at your neck. That’s when you’d realized how even that momentary brush of his hand on your neck had set your heart racing. Azazel had questioned how religious you really were, in that mocking tone of his, and you’d only been able to shake your head and look down. You were afraid of offending him, and you’d tried to tug away, but he’d caught your arm with his tail and asked of you were afraid of him. You’d shaken your head violently, trying to tell him no, of course not, but he had just frowned and asked you to answer him. He had thought you were lying because you refused to speak.
It was then you realized he didn’t know you couldn’t talk.
You had stared for a long moment, nearly shaking with some fear that you still couldn’t understand, and pointed to your throat. He’d looked confused, and belatedly realized he was still holding the cross, and dropped it to step away. But you’d pointed again, and shaken your head, miming a writing motion in the air. Then it had clicked. Azazel’s eyes had widened in surprise, and he had sworn loudly. Emma had never bothered to tell him. He’d smiled at you then, and apologized- probably the first time he had ever said something like that in your hearing, and he’d held out his hand. ‘Can you write?’ He’d asked, and put your hand on his. You’d stared, trying to figure it out, but he had laughed. ‘I have no pen.’ He had said. ‘Just draw the letters out if you wish to speak to me.’ He’d acted so casual about the whole thing.
It had been such a relief to have someone to talk to. Emma could read your mind, but she wasn’t always around, and Shaw didn’t care as long as you were following orders. You took to following Azazel around more than ever. And he didn’t seem to care. Actually, he was surprisingly patient, and he always seemed genuinely interested in what you had to say. You had a lot of conversations over the time you knew him, but it never failed to stir up feelings deep inside whenever you had a chance to hold his hand. In the end, he probably knew more about what you really had to say than anyone else in the world, and he would never realize how much that meant. You weren’t talkative for the sake of it- you had learned long ago to be content on your own. You just wanted him to understand all the things you were trying to say without a voice.
It’s breaking you apart inside. You know it’s impossible that he’d ever feel anything beyond some dutiful sense of companionship toward you, but you can’t take not telling him anymore. You fell in love with him. Hell, you’ve had a crush on him since you first laid eyes on him- despite his demonic appearance, he was handsome, proud, sure, but confident, and you had always had a thing for the exotic. You could be glad you had always known you were different- men who favored other men, they were scorned, sinners in your family’s eyes, but you didn’t have a voice to tell any of your secrets, and you soon learned it was something to keep to yourself.
(Emma knew of course, but she never said anything. Just gave that secretive little smile of hers.)
You wanted to tell him. But…
You don’t know what to say to him. Words don’t mean anything when all you want to do is scream at him and try to get everything out at once. Words don’t mean anything to a man who never had a voice to begin with. But they mean something to him, and you have to try to get them out and make him understand. But you won’t, you can’t, and in the end, you know that. Cornering Azazel was a terrible idea. He’s just staring at you, a little confused, a little irritated, and you’re here, in his room, trying not to just run away.
“Can I help you, comrade?” He says, quietly, trying to sound calm, but you know better. His tail is twitching from side to side, that irritated pattern of jerky movements that belies his impatience.
You don’t know how to answer- you reach out, hesitantly. He stays where he is, perhaps expecting you to have something in your hand, but when you just gesture, he seems to get what you want. He holds out his hand- there was always a reason you two were together.
It doesn’t mean anything to him, you know that. But you fold your hands around the one he offers for a second and it still makes your heart race. You can’t look at him. You focus on his palm, trying not to dwell on the faint lines of his hand, the barely-visible scar just under his middle finger… you shake your head. You can’t do this. Even this way, you can’t find the words. Thousands of them race through your head, but all that it comes together as is a chaotic blur. You can’t tell him.
He seems to understand this, and pulls his hand back with a sort of resigned snort. But your hands won’t let him go that easily, tightening around his wrist before he can fully turn away. He stops for a second, and his tail does that lashing thing that means he’s really debating just teleporting away before you make him even more annoyed. But he does turn back to you, though his face wears a tired expression.
“Da, Janos?”
You love the way he says your name. It sounds exotic, tinged with his accent the way it is. You’d hated your name until you heard him say it. But he’s speaking to you, and he sounds tired. Maybe you should go. You almost leave then, but as you glance up, you catch his eye. He’s been watching you. Oh, god. How long have you been standing there, staring at his hand? You know you’re probably going red, from the way you can feel your face heating up. Damn. But it’s not fair- you were leaving, really, you were, but now he’s got you trapped. Nobody should have eyes that pale. All the words you can’t ever speak come rushing back, and they claw at your chest, tearing you apart inside. Azazel is right there. You could tell him, but you’ve never been able to speak, and you never will be. No matter how that ice-blue gaze makes you need to scream at the top of your lungs, you just can’t.
All those words- thousands of them that boil down to just three somehow, three simple English words. It feels more final in English, you don’t know why. Your own language is too familiar to you. Azazel is going to leave if you can’t figure out how to tell him. Your eyes flick around, too afraid to write the letters out for him, and your voice has never allowed you to express yourself. But you can’t let it go. You can’t let him go.
So you don’t. He looks somewhat surprised as you pull him slightly closer, your grip on his wrist unceasing. He tries to figure you out, scanning your face for some clue as to your intentions, but you won’t look into his eyes. You’ll lose it if you do. He reaches over with his free hand, trying to get free, but being polite about it. You both know he could escape without a second thought, but he’s giving you a chance. You don’t take it, and you grab his other wrist too, forcing his hands back.
Now he really doesn’t get it, and that irritated scowl comes back, and his tail doesn’t just flick back and forth, it freezes entirely.
By your best guess, you have about five seconds before he’s gone. The words in your head swirl around faster than you can comprehend them, and you don’t know what to do. You still can’t tell him. How can you make him understand? You look at him, desperately. He’s not that much taller than you are, a few inches, maybe, but right now he seems to tower because you feel so helpless. He’s about to say something, and you can see the warning in his eyes. You don’t want to know what he’s about to say.
Three seconds.
You‘re going to do something stupid. The words telling him how you feel lie just under the surface of your skin, but he’ll never know that. But you’re desperate. You’ve got him in the best position here- he can’t pull away. His bed is just behind him- you must have caught him in the middle of changing or something. You’re between him and the door. Again, he could just vanish in that whirl of red smoke and be done with it all, but for some reason he’s giving you the courtesy of not doing so. But you know he’s stronger than you, and if he really made an effort, he could break away easily.
You’re running out of things to think about to kill time, and you’ve got one second left before he gets pissed enough to leave.
You sigh, and he thinks that’s a dismissal. His tail moves again, winding slowly around behind him. But you don’t let him go. Instead you shove him back, a quick trick that sprawls him on his back on his bed. He looks stunned- why? He taught you how to do that. You smirk a little, proud to have managed to take him by surprise. He’s in an awkward position now, flat on his back on the mattress and you’ve still got his wrists. A look of complete indignant fury crosses his face for the split second you’re gloating, but then you move. In a moment, you’re arched over him, one knee holding you up on the edge of the bed, your arms pinning his above his head. Your hair falls over your neck, and you’re breathing hard, some insane mix of terror and exhilaration. This is the dumbest thing you’ve ever done. Whatever tenuous friendship you had with Azazel has to be shattered now.
Funny, but you don’t care. What’s getting to you is how you KNOW that you’re trying to pin down a man with the power to teleport away from you in a heartbeat. You expect it by now, the sudden loss of his skin under your fingers as you fall forward. He’ll be gone with the faint noise of displaced air and the smell of smoke and brimstone. But you’re counting, and…one. Two. Three heartbeats, and he’s still here. He still looks surprised as all hell- haha, and he’s a demon, you’re damn hilarious- but he’s frozen, waiting…he’s waiting for you to do something. Or explain yourself. You bite your lip, all confidence gone. Not that you had any in the first place. It was all spur-of-the-moment insanity. Shaw would kill you if he knew you were taking risks like this. Shaw would probably kill you if he figured out you were trying to tell Azazel you loved him, to be honest. Hell, there’s still a high probability Azazel might do that anyway. Best not to think about it.
“Janos.” His voice snaps you back to the here and now, and you hate that you find your arms trembling slightly. Azazel is watching you, and you can feel those eyes- icy blue on burning red- boring a hole in you. It’s too perfect. You can’t help it, and you try to choke back a voiceless sob, and you run your thumb over his wrist. It’s wrong, not what you meant to do at all, but damn if your body hasn’t mutinied on you. You just give up. The words won’t cooperate, won’t leave you alone, and you’ve ruined any chance you had at walking away from this idiocy.
“Do you want to give me some clue what you are doing?” Azazel’s voice is soft, and more calm than you can handle. You don’t know why he’s putting up with this. You know what you look like to him, pathetic, weak, and you don’t understand why he’s letting you do this. But you need to do this. To somehow get across to him what’s been killing you inside. So you gather what’s left of your resolve and finish making an utter fool of yourself. If you end up dead because of it, well, maybe at least your head will stop buzzing with unspoken words. Like ‘Why is Azazel still here, breathing quietly as you insanely try to … do whatever it is you’re trying to do. He should be gone. You’re holding onto a man who can literally leave any time he wants. And he isn’t leaving. He’s just…watching you. Like you’re some kind of inscrutable puzzle he just can’t figure out…’
“Ja-“ Whatever he was about to say is cut short by the interruption of your lips against his, clumsy and hesitant. It’s only a moment, but it feels right. Azazel freezes, and even though your eyes are closed you can imagine the stunned horror on his face. You stop, pulling back just a fraction of an inch. You’re trying not to cry, trying to sort out how perfect that made you feel and how long it’s going to take before Azazel stabs you. You draw back, releasing one of his hands to shove yourself away. Your other hand traces a word onto Azazel’s hand- S-O-R-R-Y. You’re trying to flee now, because you can’t handle being here anymore, can’t handle what Azazel is inevitably going to do, going to say, but you can’t. Something’s holding you back.
Literally. Azazel’s tail is wrapped tightly around your waist. Ah, his tail. You’ve always been fascinated by that tail, and you were dumb enough to forget he used the damn thing like another limb. You glance back at him, whispering apologies he’s never going to hear, praying he’ll forgive you. But when you finally register the look on his face, it isn’t hatred, isn’t rage. If you had to guess, it is something more like… like…understanding. Why is he looking at you like that?
He brings his hand up and brushes your cheek, and he’s staring at you like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. He’s studying you, and the weight of his gaze is almost too much to bear. Because he’s absolutely baffled by you, and more than that, he’s pulling you back to him.
“Janos.” He says, and you can tell he’s fighting back amusement. God, this is worse than anger. He thinks you’re funny. He pushes your hair behind your ear, breathing out softly in awe. “Beautiful, quiet, Janos.” He’s using your name, your real one. You can’t fight anymore, and the urge to run disappears. You let yourself get pulled forward, and Azazel draws you in. His hand slips into your hair and pulls your head close, and you’re kissing him again, only it’s better than before. Because this time? He’s kissing you back.
You card your fingers through his hair, surprisingly soft for looking as spiky as it does. He’s a good kisser, and damn if he can’t do fantastic things with his tongue. You don’t even know when he’s tugged you close, or when you complied so easily, practically crawling into bed with him as the two of you get used to this.
It’s a long, slow affair, and by the time either of you decides to pull away for breath, you’re quite thoroughly tangled together. You can’t keep your heart from pounding, but Azazel’s tail is tight around your waist, and his hands don’t seem any more likely to move away. One hand strokes your hair so gently you can’t reconcile this Azazel with the one who slew whole regiments of soldiers under Shaw’s orders, and his free hand is still resting under yours as you lie together draped over his bed. You try to find the words again, to tell him finally, but they’re gone. You shift, so you can look at him, try to figure it out, but he just snorts softly and shakes his head.
“I know.” He says simply, giving you that look that makes you wonder exactly how old he is. You struggle to get away again, and this time he lets you go, though he looks rather irritated. How strange- you never would have thought he’d be mad at you for leaving. But he just sits up, spreads his hands wide. “Have I misunderstood you?” He sounds smug- you wonder if he knows more than he’s let on.
You shake your head, and try to find the words, but they seem to have vanished in the wake of Azazel’s kiss. You stare at him, shaking your head, trying to tell him, but he just laughs. He reaches for you again, but it’s just an outstretched hand. Your choice to go back to him or not. You hesitate, reaching out your own hand, only to take his carefully. He’s patient, waiting for you. You fold his hand out again, flat, palm up, and draw the letters painstakingly slow.
I-L-O-V-E-Y-
You don’t get to finish. Azazel’s tail is around your wrist, halting you. He shakes his head, and there’s a patient smile on his face. He sighs, and traces your jawline with one finger.
“Did I ever tell you…” He begins, sliding out of his jacket, and pushing you back. “I am more than a teleporter?” He sounds so casual, even as he’s divesting you of your own vest, and then your shirt. You pant into him, trailing kisses along his jaw and up to one pointed ear, biting gently in a way that makes him almost snarl in the best way.
“It is not mutation…” He whispers, gently kissing your neck and biting gently only to caress the sharp sting with his tongue a moment later. You’ll have a fantastic hickey tomorrow, and you almost wonder who’s going to know the exact cause behind it. (What WILL Emma think?) “Not exactly. But is some trick I learned.” He’s got you pinned now, and he’s smirking. You frown, and he laughs, so you retaliate by tugging his shirt off. He tangles his hands in your hair and keeps moving down, his lips and tongue leaving trails of burning heat along your body. “Do you want to know…?”
Your breath comes faster now, and you drag your nails along Azazel’s back desperately. It’s an effort to nod an affirmative to his question. You don’t have the voice to beg him not to stop, but he seems to understand. Your hands trace his broad shoulders, his spine, playing carefully over the scars you can feel on his skin. He hesitates for a moment, and you’re pleased to find him panting softly as well. He looks at you a long moment, as if he’s changed his mind suddenly. You almost push him away, but it suddenly clicks he’s not looking at you, he’s trying to see if you’re looking at him. You take his chin in one hand and stroke his face, one finger tracing the scar over his eye. You smile, and lift your head to place a kiss on his forehead, then down. His eyelid, his cheekbone, tracing his scar, before drawing him in for a deep kiss.
You want to tell him you think he’s gorgeous, one of the most handsome men you’ve ever seen, but all you can do is open your mouth against his lips and kiss him as hard as you can. He relaxes against you, and when he pulls back, the hesitant look is gone.
“You are unlike many I have met. You look at me that way…” Azazel comments, sliding his tail beneath the waistline of your pants. You shiver underneath him, and Azazel chuckles darkly. “Hmm. That was good reaction. I think I want you to do that again.”
He’s true to his word, and soon, the both of you are naked, sprawled over his bed. Azazel’s hands roam your body eagerly, and his tail- that tail- is doing things you never could have imagined. You’re fighting back your own silent moans, and his damnably taunting touch is leaving you arching against him. Azazel’s tail slides away, and he replaces it with his hand, fondling your hardness. You’re feeling desperate, and a little cocky- no pun intended. Your hand slides down his back again, then closes loosely around his tail.
Azazel stiffens slightly, and moans into your shoulder. When you keep toying with his tail, he glares at you, and bites down on your shoulder- his canines are sharper than you’re pretty sure is normal. You tug his tail gently, and finally the tip snaps around your wrist and twines with your fingers. You smile- it’s what you wanted. You bring your hand and his tail up, toward you, and very gently suck on the end. This time it’s Azazel who shivers.
“That… feels very. VERY. Good.” He pants, and gives you a dark look. His hand on your cock twitches slightly, and you have to forcibly stop yourself from thrusting into his hand. He smirks, and strokes his tail along your cheek, before tracing your lips. You smile, and part your lips again, licking the tip and gently biting down on it. You know what you’re doing here, and though you can think of something else you’d be happy to suck on, Azazel’s tail seems to be a highly erotic spot for him.
He slides his hand along your cheek as well, and presses two fingers against you mouth. You know perfectly well why he’s doing this even as he’s asking you to open your mouth, and you suck on his fingers willingly. He breathes some apology about not being better prepared, but he’s distracted you well enough that by the time he’s sliding a finger into you, you can’t complain, and you throw a leg around his waist encouragingly. It’s tight, but so good, and your own desperate longing means that even ill-prepared you’re able to take it.
“You like…good.” Azazel, purrs, and keeps working on you. To be honest, between that, his hand keeping you on edge, and his tail occupying your mouth, you’re desperate for more. When he draws back, you can tell he is too. You try not to moan, actually. God, he’s …mouthwatering. Red and stiff, and he smiles at you gently, before he pushes your legs apart. His tail slides around one of your thighs, and he positions himself… you throw your arms around his shoulders, breathing heavily, and he just bows his head and kisses your neck. “Do not worry. I know what I am doing. Will be good for you.” You don’t know how he can act so calm, but you can feel the tension in his shoulders.
You can only smile and nod. When he pushes into you, you dig your fingers into his shoulders. He hesitates, but you shake your head no. You want this, and it’s not too much. Just…good. He pushes all the way in, and you pant with just the solid feeling of him thrust into you. And when he starts moving…
He goes quickly, with little preamble or build-up. You throw your head back, clinging to him like he’s the only thing keeping you from downing, and he buries his face in your neck. His thrusts go from fast to faster, and his tail slides between you and tightens around your own rock-hard erection. It doesn’t take long before you’re tensing up, coming hard with a silent scream. The orgasm almost blinds you, and it’s drawn out for a second as Azazel keeps pounding into you, a few minutes longer, until you feel him bite down on your shoulder, hard, stifling his moan in your skin. His release is just as intense as yours and you collapse against the bed limply. Azazel rests against you a long few minutes, breathing heavily as you cool off, before he rolls to the side, withdrawing from you for a moment.
You’re terrified he’s going to leave, abandon you now, that you were somehow nothing more than an opportunity seized for his own benefit. But there’s a quiet noise, again, the snap of his teleportation, and he drapes a towel over you. There’s a second where you have no idea what’s going on, before he gives you a slightly bemused look and takes it upon himself to clean off a little. You’re embarrassed, for just a second, but he drops the towel to the ground when he’s done and pulls you back to him.
“I was speaking truth before, you know.” He says conversationally, as you lean against his chest and he wraps his arms around you. His tail is draped off to one side, swaying lazily off the edge of the bed. “Do you still want to know what I can do…?” His voice is low and quiet, and you glance up only to find him watching you with those ice-blue eyes you fell in love with. That brings you back to everything that started this, and you close your eyes as you lay your head on his chest. He interrupted you before, but… but then, what was that? The words still buzz in your head, in your chest, and you try to fight them away. Later, you beg, not now, not when I have a chance to be with him. It was so good, kissing him, feeling him, being with him. You can’t just forget how you feel, but you want to cherish the closeness now before this impossible scenario ends.
You nod your head again, trying not to breathe too heavily despite the tightening in your chest. Yes, you want to know, why not? You don’t know what he’s talking about at all, but you’re happy for any words that aren’t a dismissal.
Azazel laughs softly, you can feel it where your cheek is pressed against his chest. He begins to stroke your hair, and again, you have to try so hard not to be broken by the tenderness of the action.
“I learned to hear you, Janos.” He says gently, and you almost don’t hear him he’s speaking so softly. “Not like Emma, not like the telepaths can. But… I know what you’re saying.” You freeze, eyes snapping open, and you twist to look at him. He’s lying back now and his eyes are closed, but he reaches his other hand around, holding it out to you like so many times before, when he teleports you two places, or waits for you to trace a message onto his hand. You hesitate a moment, as his words sink in slowly. Then you take his hand in yours, and bring it to your lips for a chaste kiss. Again, he laughs.
You hesitate, then trace out the letters of ‘I fell in love with you’ on his palm, and he closes his hand around yours, twining your fingers together.
“I love you too, lastochka.” He whispers, and you don’t know if you’re meant to hear that or not. “And I will always hear you, Janos. Always, whether you speak or not. I will always hear you.”
~ FIN
Yup. I don;t know. I'm pretty sure I stole the "I've always been able to hear you' thing from a Manga somewhere, and if i could remember where or what the exact line was, I'd own up, but yeah. Just saying I don;t think it's horribly original.
ALSO: This is not my general headcanon for them, but I REALLY liked the thought of that one line, so thus, Mute!Riptide. I kinda dig it as a plot device. (Thought I honestly prefer a really bitchy, sarcastic Riptide in all things. It's more fun.)
Yup. There's NO POINT TO THIS. I just... did it. Sort of written over a couple of days, un-beta-ed, so there are probably problems everywhere. Begging y'all's pardon for that, point 'em out if there are huge glaring errors.
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Words Unspoken: Azazel/Riptide
You don’t know when it happened, but sometime in the past four years, between the slow, pained conversations you have to write out, the long nights where he gives in and talks to you, just talking, because you’re the only one who will sit there and listen, between the bruises he leaves on your back from your sparring and the triumph that wells up in you whenever you manage to catch him by surprise and knock him on his ass... somewhere along the way you fell for him. Hard. Your brother would kill you if he knew. Not just because Estevao is a priest, and the thought of his youngest brother harboring such a sin- lusting after another man? It would put him into a holy rage. No. Estevao, pious, religious Estevao, what he could never understand is how you’ve managed to fall in love with a demon.
Azazel looks the part, anyway. His skin is the sort of red you’ve only ever seen in paintings, and he’s got the same sly grin and short goatee that fit so well with the pictures of demons Estevao showed you in the bible when you were small. He dresses like the rest of Shaw’s crew- that is to say, well- but he fights with the oldest sword you’ve ever seen. And his tail- long, flexible, and deadly. It only takes a few weeks for you to notice how it moves like an extension of his thoughts. You can’t help but relate it to the way your cat’s used to. He gets irritated when he catches you smiling one time, but that only makes you laugh. Azazel seems perplexed, but after a moment he just laughs along with you. That was three months after you joined Shaw and the others. Two days later you catch him watching you as you practice-Shaw’s orders- and give him a dirty look. It makes him laugh again, and you notice his eyes are so stunningly blue it hurts.
Azazel never says anything when you ask him if he really is a demon, but he smiles and won’t quite look you in the eye. Emma always makes that noise- the one where she’s reading something in someone’s mind and thinks it’s funny and is trying not to laugh. She makes that noise, and pats his arm. Shaw says Azazel is the same as the rest of you- a new breed of humanity, above everyone else. You believe him, but you think Azazel likes to be called a demon sometimes. You don’t understand, but you like the crooked way he smiles.
He laughed at you once, and you were worried you’d done something stupid, but he’d just reached out and wrapped his fingers around the cross you wore on a chain at your neck. That’s when you’d realized how even that momentary brush of his hand on your neck had set your heart racing. Azazel had questioned how religious you really were, in that mocking tone of his, and you’d only been able to shake your head and look down. You were afraid of offending him, and you’d tried to tug away, but he’d caught your arm with his tail and asked of you were afraid of him. You’d shaken your head violently, trying to tell him no, of course not, but he had just frowned and asked you to answer him. He had thought you were lying because you refused to speak.
It was then you realized he didn’t know you couldn’t talk.
You had stared for a long moment, nearly shaking with some fear that you still couldn’t understand, and pointed to your throat. He’d looked confused, and belatedly realized he was still holding the cross, and dropped it to step away. But you’d pointed again, and shaken your head, miming a writing motion in the air. Then it had clicked. Azazel’s eyes had widened in surprise, and he had sworn loudly. Emma had never bothered to tell him. He’d smiled at you then, and apologized- probably the first time he had ever said something like that in your hearing, and he’d held out his hand. ‘Can you write?’ He’d asked, and put your hand on his. You’d stared, trying to figure it out, but he had laughed. ‘I have no pen.’ He had said. ‘Just draw the letters out if you wish to speak to me.’ He’d acted so casual about the whole thing.
It had been such a relief to have someone to talk to. Emma could read your mind, but she wasn’t always around, and Shaw didn’t care as long as you were following orders. You took to following Azazel around more than ever. And he didn’t seem to care. Actually, he was surprisingly patient, and he always seemed genuinely interested in what you had to say. You had a lot of conversations over the time you knew him, but it never failed to stir up feelings deep inside whenever you had a chance to hold his hand. In the end, he probably knew more about what you really had to say than anyone else in the world, and he would never realize how much that meant. You weren’t talkative for the sake of it- you had learned long ago to be content on your own. You just wanted him to understand all the things you were trying to say without a voice.
It’s breaking you apart inside. You know it’s impossible that he’d ever feel anything beyond some dutiful sense of companionship toward you, but you can’t take not telling him anymore. You fell in love with him. Hell, you’ve had a crush on him since you first laid eyes on him- despite his demonic appearance, he was handsome, proud, sure, but confident, and you had always had a thing for the exotic. You could be glad you had always known you were different- men who favored other men, they were scorned, sinners in your family’s eyes, but you didn’t have a voice to tell any of your secrets, and you soon learned it was something to keep to yourself.
(Emma knew of course, but she never said anything. Just gave that secretive little smile of hers.)
You wanted to tell him. But…
You don’t know what to say to him. Words don’t mean anything when all you want to do is scream at him and try to get everything out at once. Words don’t mean anything to a man who never had a voice to begin with. But they mean something to him, and you have to try to get them out and make him understand. But you won’t, you can’t, and in the end, you know that. Cornering Azazel was a terrible idea. He’s just staring at you, a little confused, a little irritated, and you’re here, in his room, trying not to just run away.
“Can I help you, comrade?” He says, quietly, trying to sound calm, but you know better. His tail is twitching from side to side, that irritated pattern of jerky movements that belies his impatience.
You don’t know how to answer- you reach out, hesitantly. He stays where he is, perhaps expecting you to have something in your hand, but when you just gesture, he seems to get what you want. He holds out his hand- there was always a reason you two were together.
It doesn’t mean anything to him, you know that. But you fold your hands around the one he offers for a second and it still makes your heart race. You can’t look at him. You focus on his palm, trying not to dwell on the faint lines of his hand, the barely-visible scar just under his middle finger… you shake your head. You can’t do this. Even this way, you can’t find the words. Thousands of them race through your head, but all that it comes together as is a chaotic blur. You can’t tell him.
He seems to understand this, and pulls his hand back with a sort of resigned snort. But your hands won’t let him go that easily, tightening around his wrist before he can fully turn away. He stops for a second, and his tail does that lashing thing that means he’s really debating just teleporting away before you make him even more annoyed. But he does turn back to you, though his face wears a tired expression.
“Da, Janos?”
You love the way he says your name. It sounds exotic, tinged with his accent the way it is. You’d hated your name until you heard him say it. But he’s speaking to you, and he sounds tired. Maybe you should go. You almost leave then, but as you glance up, you catch his eye. He’s been watching you. Oh, god. How long have you been standing there, staring at his hand? You know you’re probably going red, from the way you can feel your face heating up. Damn. But it’s not fair- you were leaving, really, you were, but now he’s got you trapped. Nobody should have eyes that pale. All the words you can’t ever speak come rushing back, and they claw at your chest, tearing you apart inside. Azazel is right there. You could tell him, but you’ve never been able to speak, and you never will be. No matter how that ice-blue gaze makes you need to scream at the top of your lungs, you just can’t.
All those words- thousands of them that boil down to just three somehow, three simple English words. It feels more final in English, you don’t know why. Your own language is too familiar to you. Azazel is going to leave if you can’t figure out how to tell him. Your eyes flick around, too afraid to write the letters out for him, and your voice has never allowed you to express yourself. But you can’t let it go. You can’t let him go.
So you don’t. He looks somewhat surprised as you pull him slightly closer, your grip on his wrist unceasing. He tries to figure you out, scanning your face for some clue as to your intentions, but you won’t look into his eyes. You’ll lose it if you do. He reaches over with his free hand, trying to get free, but being polite about it. You both know he could escape without a second thought, but he’s giving you a chance. You don’t take it, and you grab his other wrist too, forcing his hands back.
Now he really doesn’t get it, and that irritated scowl comes back, and his tail doesn’t just flick back and forth, it freezes entirely.
By your best guess, you have about five seconds before he’s gone. The words in your head swirl around faster than you can comprehend them, and you don’t know what to do. You still can’t tell him. How can you make him understand? You look at him, desperately. He’s not that much taller than you are, a few inches, maybe, but right now he seems to tower because you feel so helpless. He’s about to say something, and you can see the warning in his eyes. You don’t want to know what he’s about to say.
Three seconds.
You‘re going to do something stupid. The words telling him how you feel lie just under the surface of your skin, but he’ll never know that. But you’re desperate. You’ve got him in the best position here- he can’t pull away. His bed is just behind him- you must have caught him in the middle of changing or something. You’re between him and the door. Again, he could just vanish in that whirl of red smoke and be done with it all, but for some reason he’s giving you the courtesy of not doing so. But you know he’s stronger than you, and if he really made an effort, he could break away easily.
You’re running out of things to think about to kill time, and you’ve got one second left before he gets pissed enough to leave.
You sigh, and he thinks that’s a dismissal. His tail moves again, winding slowly around behind him. But you don’t let him go. Instead you shove him back, a quick trick that sprawls him on his back on his bed. He looks stunned- why? He taught you how to do that. You smirk a little, proud to have managed to take him by surprise. He’s in an awkward position now, flat on his back on the mattress and you’ve still got his wrists. A look of complete indignant fury crosses his face for the split second you’re gloating, but then you move. In a moment, you’re arched over him, one knee holding you up on the edge of the bed, your arms pinning his above his head. Your hair falls over your neck, and you’re breathing hard, some insane mix of terror and exhilaration. This is the dumbest thing you’ve ever done. Whatever tenuous friendship you had with Azazel has to be shattered now.
Funny, but you don’t care. What’s getting to you is how you KNOW that you’re trying to pin down a man with the power to teleport away from you in a heartbeat. You expect it by now, the sudden loss of his skin under your fingers as you fall forward. He’ll be gone with the faint noise of displaced air and the smell of smoke and brimstone. But you’re counting, and…one. Two. Three heartbeats, and he’s still here. He still looks surprised as all hell- haha, and he’s a demon, you’re damn hilarious- but he’s frozen, waiting…he’s waiting for you to do something. Or explain yourself. You bite your lip, all confidence gone. Not that you had any in the first place. It was all spur-of-the-moment insanity. Shaw would kill you if he knew you were taking risks like this. Shaw would probably kill you if he figured out you were trying to tell Azazel you loved him, to be honest. Hell, there’s still a high probability Azazel might do that anyway. Best not to think about it.
“Janos.” His voice snaps you back to the here and now, and you hate that you find your arms trembling slightly. Azazel is watching you, and you can feel those eyes- icy blue on burning red- boring a hole in you. It’s too perfect. You can’t help it, and you try to choke back a voiceless sob, and you run your thumb over his wrist. It’s wrong, not what you meant to do at all, but damn if your body hasn’t mutinied on you. You just give up. The words won’t cooperate, won’t leave you alone, and you’ve ruined any chance you had at walking away from this idiocy.
“Do you want to give me some clue what you are doing?” Azazel’s voice is soft, and more calm than you can handle. You don’t know why he’s putting up with this. You know what you look like to him, pathetic, weak, and you don’t understand why he’s letting you do this. But you need to do this. To somehow get across to him what’s been killing you inside. So you gather what’s left of your resolve and finish making an utter fool of yourself. If you end up dead because of it, well, maybe at least your head will stop buzzing with unspoken words. Like ‘Why is Azazel still here, breathing quietly as you insanely try to … do whatever it is you’re trying to do. He should be gone. You’re holding onto a man who can literally leave any time he wants. And he isn’t leaving. He’s just…watching you. Like you’re some kind of inscrutable puzzle he just can’t figure out…’
“Ja-“ Whatever he was about to say is cut short by the interruption of your lips against his, clumsy and hesitant. It’s only a moment, but it feels right. Azazel freezes, and even though your eyes are closed you can imagine the stunned horror on his face. You stop, pulling back just a fraction of an inch. You’re trying not to cry, trying to sort out how perfect that made you feel and how long it’s going to take before Azazel stabs you. You draw back, releasing one of his hands to shove yourself away. Your other hand traces a word onto Azazel’s hand- S-O-R-R-Y. You’re trying to flee now, because you can’t handle being here anymore, can’t handle what Azazel is inevitably going to do, going to say, but you can’t. Something’s holding you back.
Literally. Azazel’s tail is wrapped tightly around your waist. Ah, his tail. You’ve always been fascinated by that tail, and you were dumb enough to forget he used the damn thing like another limb. You glance back at him, whispering apologies he’s never going to hear, praying he’ll forgive you. But when you finally register the look on his face, it isn’t hatred, isn’t rage. If you had to guess, it is something more like… like…understanding. Why is he looking at you like that?
He brings his hand up and brushes your cheek, and he’s staring at you like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. He’s studying you, and the weight of his gaze is almost too much to bear. Because he’s absolutely baffled by you, and more than that, he’s pulling you back to him.
“Janos.” He says, and you can tell he’s fighting back amusement. God, this is worse than anger. He thinks you’re funny. He pushes your hair behind your ear, breathing out softly in awe. “Beautiful, quiet, Janos.” He’s using your name, your real one. You can’t fight anymore, and the urge to run disappears. You let yourself get pulled forward, and Azazel draws you in. His hand slips into your hair and pulls your head close, and you’re kissing him again, only it’s better than before. Because this time? He’s kissing you back.
You card your fingers through his hair, surprisingly soft for looking as spiky as it does. He’s a good kisser, and damn if he can’t do fantastic things with his tongue. You don’t even know when he’s tugged you close, or when you complied so easily, practically crawling into bed with him as the two of you get used to this.
It’s a long, slow affair, and by the time either of you decides to pull away for breath, you’re quite thoroughly tangled together. You can’t keep your heart from pounding, but Azazel’s tail is tight around your waist, and his hands don’t seem any more likely to move away. One hand strokes your hair so gently you can’t reconcile this Azazel with the one who slew whole regiments of soldiers under Shaw’s orders, and his free hand is still resting under yours as you lie together draped over his bed. You try to find the words again, to tell him finally, but they’re gone. You shift, so you can look at him, try to figure it out, but he just snorts softly and shakes his head.
“I know.” He says simply, giving you that look that makes you wonder exactly how old he is. You struggle to get away again, and this time he lets you go, though he looks rather irritated. How strange- you never would have thought he’d be mad at you for leaving. But he just sits up, spreads his hands wide. “Have I misunderstood you?” He sounds smug- you wonder if he knows more than he’s let on.
You shake your head, and try to find the words, but they seem to have vanished in the wake of Azazel’s kiss. You stare at him, shaking your head, trying to tell him, but he just laughs. He reaches for you again, but it’s just an outstretched hand. Your choice to go back to him or not. You hesitate, reaching out your own hand, only to take his carefully. He’s patient, waiting for you. You fold his hand out again, flat, palm up, and draw the letters painstakingly slow.
I-L-O-V-E-Y-
You don’t get to finish. Azazel’s tail is around your wrist, halting you. He shakes his head, and there’s a patient smile on his face. He sighs, and traces your jawline with one finger.
“Did I ever tell you…” He begins, sliding out of his jacket, and pushing you back. “I am more than a teleporter?” He sounds so casual, even as he’s divesting you of your own vest, and then your shirt. You pant into him, trailing kisses along his jaw and up to one pointed ear, biting gently in a way that makes him almost snarl in the best way.
“It is not mutation…” He whispers, gently kissing your neck and biting gently only to caress the sharp sting with his tongue a moment later. You’ll have a fantastic hickey tomorrow, and you almost wonder who’s going to know the exact cause behind it. (What WILL Emma think?) “Not exactly. But is some trick I learned.” He’s got you pinned now, and he’s smirking. You frown, and he laughs, so you retaliate by tugging his shirt off. He tangles his hands in your hair and keeps moving down, his lips and tongue leaving trails of burning heat along your body. “Do you want to know…?”
Your breath comes faster now, and you drag your nails along Azazel’s back desperately. It’s an effort to nod an affirmative to his question. You don’t have the voice to beg him not to stop, but he seems to understand. Your hands trace his broad shoulders, his spine, playing carefully over the scars you can feel on his skin. He hesitates for a moment, and you’re pleased to find him panting softly as well. He looks at you a long moment, as if he’s changed his mind suddenly. You almost push him away, but it suddenly clicks he’s not looking at you, he’s trying to see if you’re looking at him. You take his chin in one hand and stroke his face, one finger tracing the scar over his eye. You smile, and lift your head to place a kiss on his forehead, then down. His eyelid, his cheekbone, tracing his scar, before drawing him in for a deep kiss.
You want to tell him you think he’s gorgeous, one of the most handsome men you’ve ever seen, but all you can do is open your mouth against his lips and kiss him as hard as you can. He relaxes against you, and when he pulls back, the hesitant look is gone.
“You are unlike many I have met. You look at me that way…” Azazel comments, sliding his tail beneath the waistline of your pants. You shiver underneath him, and Azazel chuckles darkly. “Hmm. That was good reaction. I think I want you to do that again.”
He’s true to his word, and soon, the both of you are naked, sprawled over his bed. Azazel’s hands roam your body eagerly, and his tail- that tail- is doing things you never could have imagined. You’re fighting back your own silent moans, and his damnably taunting touch is leaving you arching against him. Azazel’s tail slides away, and he replaces it with his hand, fondling your hardness. You’re feeling desperate, and a little cocky- no pun intended. Your hand slides down his back again, then closes loosely around his tail.
Azazel stiffens slightly, and moans into your shoulder. When you keep toying with his tail, he glares at you, and bites down on your shoulder- his canines are sharper than you’re pretty sure is normal. You tug his tail gently, and finally the tip snaps around your wrist and twines with your fingers. You smile- it’s what you wanted. You bring your hand and his tail up, toward you, and very gently suck on the end. This time it’s Azazel who shivers.
“That… feels very. VERY. Good.” He pants, and gives you a dark look. His hand on your cock twitches slightly, and you have to forcibly stop yourself from thrusting into his hand. He smirks, and strokes his tail along your cheek, before tracing your lips. You smile, and part your lips again, licking the tip and gently biting down on it. You know what you’re doing here, and though you can think of something else you’d be happy to suck on, Azazel’s tail seems to be a highly erotic spot for him.
He slides his hand along your cheek as well, and presses two fingers against you mouth. You know perfectly well why he’s doing this even as he’s asking you to open your mouth, and you suck on his fingers willingly. He breathes some apology about not being better prepared, but he’s distracted you well enough that by the time he’s sliding a finger into you, you can’t complain, and you throw a leg around his waist encouragingly. It’s tight, but so good, and your own desperate longing means that even ill-prepared you’re able to take it.
“You like…good.” Azazel, purrs, and keeps working on you. To be honest, between that, his hand keeping you on edge, and his tail occupying your mouth, you’re desperate for more. When he draws back, you can tell he is too. You try not to moan, actually. God, he’s …mouthwatering. Red and stiff, and he smiles at you gently, before he pushes your legs apart. His tail slides around one of your thighs, and he positions himself… you throw your arms around his shoulders, breathing heavily, and he just bows his head and kisses your neck. “Do not worry. I know what I am doing. Will be good for you.” You don’t know how he can act so calm, but you can feel the tension in his shoulders.
You can only smile and nod. When he pushes into you, you dig your fingers into his shoulders. He hesitates, but you shake your head no. You want this, and it’s not too much. Just…good. He pushes all the way in, and you pant with just the solid feeling of him thrust into you. And when he starts moving…
He goes quickly, with little preamble or build-up. You throw your head back, clinging to him like he’s the only thing keeping you from downing, and he buries his face in your neck. His thrusts go from fast to faster, and his tail slides between you and tightens around your own rock-hard erection. It doesn’t take long before you’re tensing up, coming hard with a silent scream. The orgasm almost blinds you, and it’s drawn out for a second as Azazel keeps pounding into you, a few minutes longer, until you feel him bite down on your shoulder, hard, stifling his moan in your skin. His release is just as intense as yours and you collapse against the bed limply. Azazel rests against you a long few minutes, breathing heavily as you cool off, before he rolls to the side, withdrawing from you for a moment.
You’re terrified he’s going to leave, abandon you now, that you were somehow nothing more than an opportunity seized for his own benefit. But there’s a quiet noise, again, the snap of his teleportation, and he drapes a towel over you. There’s a second where you have no idea what’s going on, before he gives you a slightly bemused look and takes it upon himself to clean off a little. You’re embarrassed, for just a second, but he drops the towel to the ground when he’s done and pulls you back to him.
“I was speaking truth before, you know.” He says conversationally, as you lean against his chest and he wraps his arms around you. His tail is draped off to one side, swaying lazily off the edge of the bed. “Do you still want to know what I can do…?” His voice is low and quiet, and you glance up only to find him watching you with those ice-blue eyes you fell in love with. That brings you back to everything that started this, and you close your eyes as you lay your head on his chest. He interrupted you before, but… but then, what was that? The words still buzz in your head, in your chest, and you try to fight them away. Later, you beg, not now, not when I have a chance to be with him. It was so good, kissing him, feeling him, being with him. You can’t just forget how you feel, but you want to cherish the closeness now before this impossible scenario ends.
You nod your head again, trying not to breathe too heavily despite the tightening in your chest. Yes, you want to know, why not? You don’t know what he’s talking about at all, but you’re happy for any words that aren’t a dismissal.
Azazel laughs softly, you can feel it where your cheek is pressed against his chest. He begins to stroke your hair, and again, you have to try so hard not to be broken by the tenderness of the action.
“I learned to hear you, Janos.” He says gently, and you almost don’t hear him he’s speaking so softly. “Not like Emma, not like the telepaths can. But… I know what you’re saying.” You freeze, eyes snapping open, and you twist to look at him. He’s lying back now and his eyes are closed, but he reaches his other hand around, holding it out to you like so many times before, when he teleports you two places, or waits for you to trace a message onto his hand. You hesitate a moment, as his words sink in slowly. Then you take his hand in yours, and bring it to your lips for a chaste kiss. Again, he laughs.
You hesitate, then trace out the letters of ‘I fell in love with you’ on his palm, and he closes his hand around yours, twining your fingers together.
“I love you too, lastochka.” He whispers, and you don’t know if you’re meant to hear that or not. “And I will always hear you, Janos. Always, whether you speak or not. I will always hear you.”
~ FIN