|Marry The Night
||[Dec. 30th, 2011|11:09 am]
Azazel & Riptide's Kingdom
Title: Marry The Night
Warnings: Explicit sex and violence, consensual violence
Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with the Marvel corporation and express no ownership over it or the characters used. I profit in no way from this use.
Summary: Janos belongs to Azazel now, and Azazel will do with him as he pleases. Who is Emma to judge him? And why does she even care?
Sequel to Say You'll Haunt Me
A/N Update 1/3 today, maybe even 1/4! We'll see how much I get done today.
He gets a visit from Emma the day after.
“What exactly do you think you're playing at?” She demands, with no preamble. She's angry, genuinely so, eyebrows drawn and mouth in a firm line, but Azazel isn't exactly sure what he's done lately that she's found out about.
“Begging pardon?” He tries, while racking his brain for any misdeeds in recent memory.
“He's seventeen, Azazel.” She hisses, and he realizes what she's on about. The boy, Janos.
“And how old were you when someone plucked your flower, Emma?” He asks, bored already. He doesn't need a lecture from the White Queen about his supposed sins, especially when the boy had practically thrown himself at Azazel.
“Too young, just like he is. You're twenty-eight, over ten years older than him, and you took advantage. What were you thinking? Or maybe you just weren't thinking with the right brain.” She muses, her blue eyes flickering down to the front of his trousers. “Were you really that hard-up?”
“He wanted it.” Azazel says, going back to his book.
“He's too young to know what he wants.” She contradicts, striding into his room without invitation. “He's young and foolish, and you know it. You know better.”
Azazel shuts his book, and looks up at her, puzzling over her out-of-character concern. Emma has never even so much as raised an eyebrow at the things he's done to other members of the Hellfire Club, so why is this boy suddenly of importance?
“What is he to you?”
He's hit the mark, though he's not quite sure what it that mark is exactly, yet. Whatever it is though, it makes Emma withdraw.
“Think about what you're getting yourself into, Azazel, for once in your sorry life.” She leaves him with that, and he mulls it over for some time, trying to see a connection between Janos and Emma, something that would make ice-cold Emma reach out to the smart-mouthed boy.
It gives him something to think about, at least.
He grabs Janos by his hair and yanks him back against his chest, the boy crying out in surprised pain. Azazel can't resist inhaling his scent first, taking in a deep breath by his hairline before throwing him down onto the floor.
“Why does Frost care what I do with you?” He asks Janos' sprawled form.
“Are you scared of her?” Janos asks, with a smirk, as he rolls over onto his back. Azazel kicks him, none-too-gently, for the comment, and smiles when Janos is knocked breathless for a moment, unable to speak for once.
“Of Emma?” He sneers. “Emma wishes she frightened me.”
“Does anything frighten you?” He sits up on his elbows, hair still falling across his face, and god, Azazel has no idea why he finds it arousing, why Janos' disheveled state makes his blood burn like this. He doesn't even like the brat.
That doesn't mean he can't scratch the itch.
He wraps his tail around Janos' neck and squeezes, sucking the air right out of his lungs. The boy arches off the floor, digging his blunt nails into the appendage as he struggles for breath. Azazel grins and crouches over him, but this proves to be a mistake, as Janos kicks him hard in the chest, winding him. He's forced to release the boy, and he quickly finds himself down, more out of surprise than anything else, as Janos, with his slighter form, somehow manages to pin him down for a moment.
His obnoxiously long hair brushes Azazel's face.
He flips them easily enough, and holds the boy down properly, his tail grabbing the boy's hands and restraining him.
“Get off of me, you bastard,” Janos hisses, but Azazel's as hard as he was that day in Janos' room, and it's Janos' own fault, really. He's the one who decided he wanted to fuck Azazel, the one who wanted Azazel. Azazel would have let him be, if he hadn't decided to play his stupid game.
“Did you think it was going to be a one-time deal, boy? Did you think I wouldn't want more?” Janos stills under his hands, looking up at him with fire in his eyes.
“What makes you think I want you to fuck me again?” His lips curl in a mocking smile. “Maybe I wasn't satisfied. Maybe I could find another man, a better man, did you ever think of that?”
Azazel's had enough of his mouth. They disappear in a swirl of smoke and reappear in Azazel's room, where Janos has never been allowed, where no one has ever been allowed. Azazel supposes that if he's naked, it's not so annoying to have someone else in here.
“Strip.” He orders, climbing off the boy to pull off his own clothes.
Janos shakes his head, sitting up.
“Why should I?” He asks, his curls all around his face like a dark halo.
Azazel grabs him by that fallen angel's halo, and forces him forward, right into Azazel's face.
“Because I told you to.” He tells him, and throws him back down on the bed. “Learn your place.”
“And what is my place, Azazel? Your pet?” Janos settles back on his elbows on Azazel's bed, and the picture he makes is somehow even more arousing than when he's thrown across the floor. Maybe it's because he's in Azazel's space now, Azazel's possession.
“Your place is whatever I tell you it is.” Azazel grabs him with his tail, wrapping it around Janos' knees, yanking him to the floor with a hard thunk that has Janos wincing. “Clothes, off. Now.”
Janos sneers, but does as he's told. He does it slowly though, unbuttoning his shirt with more care than Azazel's suspects is usual, revealing every few inches of skin like a tease before it's done and shrugged off. He does the same with his trousers, and it angers Azazel, but the sight of that pretty body naked in his bedroom, open to him and him alone, soothes some of it.
What to do first, is the question.
Azazel shoves him backwards, back onto his bed, and among the blankets, Janos sits like a spoiled prince, despite his precarious position in Azazel's favor.
“Everything I do to you is new, isn't it?” Azazel asks, curious.
“You like it that way, don't you?” Janos answers with a question of his own. “You like knowing you're the first.” He smirks and sits forward. “I've never sucked anyone's cock.” He tilts his head to the side, and Azazel can't help but see his mouth, wet and open, waiting for Azazel. “How does that make you feel?”
It makes Azazel want to do all manner of things that are immoral, and he can't decide what he wants to start with. He settles for teleporting onto the bed, so that he sits with his legs spread, back against the headboard.
Janos takes it for what it is, and gathers his hair into a queue with his hand before leaning over to lick the head, like he's curious about the taste. He maneuvers himself into a kneeling position over Azazel, still holding his hair back, and balances himself on his free hand while he wraps his lips around the head, running his tongue over what he can.
Azazel wants nothing more than to grab the stupid brat by the back of his head and fuck his mouth, but he knows if he does that, he'll hurt himself more than anything. He doesn't put it past the boy to bite, for one thing, and for another, he likes having a warm body available whenever he wants it. Janos needs to like it, like everything Azazel does to him, or he'll find himself denied things he rather likes.
Like this, he likes this, this virgin mouth around him, so timid and careful.
“Enough, boy.” He orders, and Janos withdraws, but not before defiantly running his tongue from root to tip, like the brat he is. He releases his hair, just in time for Azazel to grab it and use it to pull him into a kiss. For all of Janos' bravado, Azazel doubts he's been kissed much in the past. He still moves like everything Azazel does is a surprise.
Azazel likes that too.
“I thought you'd want to come in my mouth.” He gasps, after Azazel lets him breathe.
“I can think of someplace better.” His tail runs over Janos' ass, and god help him, the boy flushes again, like he did when Azazel surprised him that night in his room.
“So you like some parts of me.” Janos taunts, and doesn't protest when Azazel turns them over, putting the boy on his back where he belongs.
“Every part of you but that incessant tongue.” Azazel returns, before he takes Janos in his mouth. He thought ahead, placing his arm across the boy's hips, to keep him from thrusting into Azazel's mouth like an idiot.
Janos groans, and whispers something in Spanish that Azazel doesn't catch. But he behaves himself, and doesn't even try to move into Azazel's mouth, only lets Azazel do as he wishes. He shows Janos through demonstration, as he moves his hand along the base and takes the top in his mouth, teaches him how it's done properly, how to please Azazel later.
When the boy sounds like he can't take anymore, Azazel moves off him, and sinks his incisors into Janos' hipbone, hard enough he shouts from the sudden pain. Azazel breaks the skin, and tastes the iron of Janos' blood before he moves up to kiss him again, digging his nails into the back of Janos' neck. He feels wetness there, and Janos' half-sob of pain as he instinctively tries to squirm away. But he's still hard against Azazel, his pupils still dilated.
“Please just fuck me,” He begs, burying his fingers in Azazel's hair. “Please, please,”
“Maybe I'm bored now. After all, where's the thrill in going where I've already been?” Azazel taunts. He has every intention of fucking the boy senseless this time, until the only thing he knows is Azazel's name, but to get there, he needs Janos on the absolute edge.
He's surprised when Janos cinches his legs around Azazel's waist, the fingers in his hair becoming painful.
“The thrill is knowing that whenever you want, you can have me. You like owning me. You like knowing that if you wanted to fuck me over the desk in Shaw's office, I'd spread my legs for you. If you wanted to fuck me over the altar in Catedral de Santa María de la Sede, I would let you, and you know it.” He tilts his head up, so that his mouth is just brushing Azazel's, and all Azazel can think is that Janos' mouth is his, his to have just like the rest of the boy, and so he kisses him again, nipping at his tongue, enough to hurt but not to bleed, enough to remind Janos that he intends to do exactly what he wants.
He grabs the oil and slathers his tail in it, and he uses that to enter him. Janos gasps, and the fingers in his hair tighten again as he adjusts to the unfamiliar slide of it. Azazel loves it, the expression, the way he tightens, then relaxes as Azazel fucks him with it, his breath hitching as he moves with it. Azazel pins his hands so he can't even consider touching himself, just lets him suffer through it while he watches.
He's hard too though, and his enjoyment doesn't satisfy him enough. He slicks himself, and trades his tail for his cock, thrusting in hard, and keeping a punishing pace as he moves Janos' legs over his shoulders, in order to get himself fully inside.
Janos gasps, then moans, in all the right ways, every sound he makes driving Azazel in harder, until all he knows is Azazel's name.
After, Janos doesn't leave, because Azazel hasn't told him to, and the boy learns fast. Azazel will give him that. He's pretty sure he wants to fuck him again tonight. Maybe a few more times. He hasn't decided yet.
Janos sleeps quietly, his wrists darkening with Azazel's bruises, the back of his neck turning into one big purple stain. The bruises Azazel left the day before compliment it, and he likes the general effect.
When Janos has his eyes closed, his hair brushed back behind his ear, there's something oddly familiar in his features. Azazel just can't quite put his finger on it.
It isn't until the next day, when he's reading the newspaper while Janos gets himself coffee, that the revelation begins to dawn on him.
Emma enters and sneers at Azazel before going to Janos. But she freezes as she takes him in, and Azazel smirks over his paper, at the visible bruises on Janos' wrists.
“How did you get these?” She demands, grabbing one to look more closely, and Janos flinches away. “Janos, what...?” She turns to Azazel then, scowling, and Azazel meets her eyes without an ounce of fear. “You absolute bastard.” She hisses. “After I told you to stay away from him, what is wrong with you,” She doesn't get to finish, as her face freezes in the odd expression she makes when she's having a telepathic communication.
It's Janos, Azazel can tell, and whatever he says, it makes her turn pink in frustration before she storms out.
“Why does she care?” Azazel asks again, eyeing the curve of Janos' back appreciatively. He's considering having the boy again, over the table, but it might be better to wait until lunch, after he's trained. He could fuck Janos after he's beaten the other members of their little Club around a little, when his blood is running hot and fast, could do all sorts of wicked things.
“I thought you weren't scared of Emma?” Janos taunts, before he takes his coffee and leaves.
There's something about the cold expression he briefly makes that niggles at Azazel's memory.
After his training session, he seeks Janos out, already anticipating the slide of their bodies together, how he'll make Janos scream today.
But then he sees Janos with Emma, their heads bowed together as they speak about something he can't hear. He sees the similarities in their cheekbones, their necks, the lines of their jaws, the curl of their ears. The way they gesture with their hands, the way they stand, and he thinks of the way their mouths pull up in a smirk or a sneer.
And he thinks he might be a complete idiot.