Mystique/Azazel drabble
Title: In The Light Of Day
Characters: Mystique/Azazel, implied past Azazel/Riptide, Raven/Hank
Rating: R
Word Count: 500ish
Disclaimer: Marvel and 20th Century Fox own.
AN: We don't get to see a lot of mutant's parents, excepts Bobby's =/, but we got to see Nightcrawler's before he was even a gleam in their eye! XD
It took many years for them not to be at odds or pretend not to care what the other did. Where no hidden agendas and no vicious games existed. Mystique didn't worry that things between her and Azazel took long to begin or might be quick to end because she finally understood there were no guarantees. She also didn't care that Azazel never looked at her until after Riptide left, she'd had her eye elsewhere as well. She didn't even worry that he displayed no affection when others were around, it was simply his way. Azazel never did more than glance occasionally at Janos, and she's pretty sure they had been in love.
Azazel saw things differently, though he would never say. He, unlike her, could appreciate how they began. Not surprisingly, as was very often the case, it happened while they trained. Erik having been the one to suggest it. Azazel was vicious, precise, deadly. Mystique wanted to be exactly like that, but she refused to be taught. She would get there all on her own, she insisted. Azazel had laughed, said something in Russian, and walked away.
"Fine," she had replied exasperated, as though he would be doing her a favor.
Swords, knives, hand-to-hand, one thing led to another. But, not without great reluctance and wariness. When she was about to give in, he'd pull back. If he tried to get close, it was she to spurn him. She was too inexperienced, he was too old, until one day all that ceased to matter.
Erik had watched in barely attentive amusement; if it didn't interfere with their purpose, he would not interfere them either. Emma rolled her eyes at them, their constantly thinking one thing, but doing another irritated her to no end. They were behaving like children, she thought. Angel, on the other hand, secretly a hopeless romantic, found them adorable! Not that she would ever say that to either.
But all that was past now. They were beyond it.
...
Their job completed - the Ambassador and his people neutralized - Mystique and Azazel left Russia for Germany under a clear, night sky. She had nearly been shot and he had been a breath away from being blown up had it not been for her quick thinking and his X-gene. Still, they made it out of the compound unscathed and into their expensive hotel room, courtesy of the Ambassador, before dawn.
Once Raven checked herself in, Azazel bamfed into the room. The drawn curtains kept very little out and she was beginning to grow annoyed at the amount of morning sun filling the room, basking it in bright light.
Unable to sleep without a dark room to aid her, Mystique lay awake in bed, staring at herself in the mirror above. She hadn't requested it, but there it was. Studying her scaly blue skin for a moment, she turned her gaze to Azazel's smooth, fiery one lying in sharp contrast against sheets as white as snow.
"What is it?" he asked in Russian. There was a hint of a grin on his face.
"Nothing," she lied, surprised he was still awake. His eyes were as clear as she imagined the sky outside to be and he seemed completely at ease to be lying naked at her side. Still, she wasn't about to tell him what she'd been thinking nor that she'd been admiring his uniquely crimson skin, the long lines of muscle along his powerful legs, or his wide strong chest. He had confidence enough for three men, so she would not admit she thought him handsome, beautiful even. A lifetime ago, she'd gushed at Hank, declaring, "You're amazing!" He had smiled then, but later, when she'd looked to him for comfort, he had been unable and unwilling to return the compliment. She promised herself she would never again give so freely.
Mystique turned away from the mirror to face Azazel directly. He studied her expression as she ran her fingers down along his chest, past the planes of hard muscle that made up his abdominals, until she reached her destination. A reluctant gasp escaped his lips when she took him in her hand.
"Do not start something if-"
"If what?" she demanded, her hold on him tightening.
He narrowed his eyes at her, but he was not angry. Her grip eased and she began moving her hand up and down at a tortuously slow pace. That hint of a grin flourished as his tail trailed from behind her calf up to her thigh making her smile.
The frenzied fucking of past nights would not take place in that room. No, that morning, she would take her time and by the sounds he was making, he had no objections.
Characters: Mystique/Azazel, implied past Azazel/Riptide, Raven/Hank
Rating: R
Word Count: 500ish
Disclaimer: Marvel and 20th Century Fox own.
AN: We don't get to see a lot of mutant's parents, excepts Bobby's =/, but we got to see Nightcrawler's before he was even a gleam in their eye! XD
It took many years for them not to be at odds or pretend not to care what the other did. Where no hidden agendas and no vicious games existed. Mystique didn't worry that things between her and Azazel took long to begin or might be quick to end because she finally understood there were no guarantees. She also didn't care that Azazel never looked at her until after Riptide left, she'd had her eye elsewhere as well. She didn't even worry that he displayed no affection when others were around, it was simply his way. Azazel never did more than glance occasionally at Janos, and she's pretty sure they had been in love.
Azazel saw things differently, though he would never say. He, unlike her, could appreciate how they began. Not surprisingly, as was very often the case, it happened while they trained. Erik having been the one to suggest it. Azazel was vicious, precise, deadly. Mystique wanted to be exactly like that, but she refused to be taught. She would get there all on her own, she insisted. Azazel had laughed, said something in Russian, and walked away.
"Fine," she had replied exasperated, as though he would be doing her a favor.
Swords, knives, hand-to-hand, one thing led to another. But, not without great reluctance and wariness. When she was about to give in, he'd pull back. If he tried to get close, it was she to spurn him. She was too inexperienced, he was too old, until one day all that ceased to matter.
Erik had watched in barely attentive amusement; if it didn't interfere with their purpose, he would not interfere them either. Emma rolled her eyes at them, their constantly thinking one thing, but doing another irritated her to no end. They were behaving like children, she thought. Angel, on the other hand, secretly a hopeless romantic, found them adorable! Not that she would ever say that to either.
But all that was past now. They were beyond it.
...
Their job completed - the Ambassador and his people neutralized - Mystique and Azazel left Russia for Germany under a clear, night sky. She had nearly been shot and he had been a breath away from being blown up had it not been for her quick thinking and his X-gene. Still, they made it out of the compound unscathed and into their expensive hotel room, courtesy of the Ambassador, before dawn.
Once Raven checked herself in, Azazel bamfed into the room. The drawn curtains kept very little out and she was beginning to grow annoyed at the amount of morning sun filling the room, basking it in bright light.
Unable to sleep without a dark room to aid her, Mystique lay awake in bed, staring at herself in the mirror above. She hadn't requested it, but there it was. Studying her scaly blue skin for a moment, she turned her gaze to Azazel's smooth, fiery one lying in sharp contrast against sheets as white as snow.
"What is it?" he asked in Russian. There was a hint of a grin on his face.
"Nothing," she lied, surprised he was still awake. His eyes were as clear as she imagined the sky outside to be and he seemed completely at ease to be lying naked at her side. Still, she wasn't about to tell him what she'd been thinking nor that she'd been admiring his uniquely crimson skin, the long lines of muscle along his powerful legs, or his wide strong chest. He had confidence enough for three men, so she would not admit she thought him handsome, beautiful even. A lifetime ago, she'd gushed at Hank, declaring, "You're amazing!" He had smiled then, but later, when she'd looked to him for comfort, he had been unable and unwilling to return the compliment. She promised herself she would never again give so freely.
Mystique turned away from the mirror to face Azazel directly. He studied her expression as she ran her fingers down along his chest, past the planes of hard muscle that made up his abdominals, until she reached her destination. A reluctant gasp escaped his lips when she took him in her hand.
"Do not start something if-"
"If what?" she demanded, her hold on him tightening.
He narrowed his eyes at her, but he was not angry. Her grip eased and she began moving her hand up and down at a tortuously slow pace. That hint of a grin flourished as his tail trailed from behind her calf up to her thigh making her smile.
The frenzied fucking of past nights would not take place in that room. No, that morning, she would take her time and by the sounds he was making, he had no objections.