Soft and Hard

Author's Note: This is an addendum, taking place after Act Seven. "Riptide in Eight Acts" is told from Riptide's perspective but this portion is told from Azazel's. As with the rest of this fic, it is intended for an adult audience.

"Three more hours until next pill," Azazel said, ushering Riptide inside the dark cabin. "You must wait – a more high dose will cause more harm than good."

Azazel's voice sounded much as it had ever since the day Shaw had cut out Riptide's tongue. The voice was harsh, as if Azazel were barking out life-saving orders. Indeed it had been Azazel's actions since then which had kept Riptide from bleeding too much; it had been Azazel's actions which had ensured that Riptide continued to eat so that his body received the nutrients it needed.

But as Azazel gruffly spoke his orders, Riptide began matter-of-factly undressing.

Azazel's eyes grew wide and he fought to keep his heartbeat steady. Riptide could not possibly want this. His body was still sick, still recovering from the repulsive act of violence. As Azazel watched Riptide's layers of clothing drop to the floor, the older man began to understand. Riptide certainly didn't want sex now, but he knew how much Azazel desired it. Azazel might be – as he had once chuckled with Riptide soon after they had become lovers – "older man", but his drive always matched that of Riptide or any other man in his twenties.

'Is it because I have taken care of him since that bastard Shaw did this, that he is here to repay me?' Azazel wondered, just as another thought flirted with him. `Or is it that he fears losing me?'

Azazel's sense of morality could not be termed one of his stronger suits. Still, he had an inkling that another man might have protested, might have assured Riptide that he didn't need to do this, that his lover could wait, that he should return to his room and rest until he could take another painkiller.

Azazel was not that man. Already he feared that he had revealed too much, allowed himself to become too vulnerable. Was it not obvious to both men in this room and the rest of the Hellfire Club? They all saw how Azazel ministered to Riptide after the violence. They all saw him teleporting back and forth with a medic, with painkillers, with the soups and oatmeal that could be ingested by someone who no longer had a tongue. Azazel had tried to mask his feelings with unreadable eyes, with an off-hand comment or two about how the Hellfire Club needed strong members in order to crush the humans, adding that so many of their former members hadn't worked out.

How long before Shaw attacked Azazel for getting attached to another human being, let alone one who had questioned Shaw's orders? Azazel was not about to be soft now.

"That is nice," Azazel finally spoke, eyeing Riptide. He spent an instant thinking back to their first night together. Azazel had knocked twice on his door, had been allowed in, had given another order: 'Your clothes – off. All of them.' And Azazel once again questioned himself. Perhaps he didn't want to appear weak and vulnerable, didn't want to be a sap who followed his heart - but Riptide didn't need to be appraised like a piece of meat tonight either.

"Come here," Azazel gestured, pulling his lover towards him. He held him close, wrapping his arms around Riptide's warm body. Riptide returned the embrace. He brought his mouth to the side of Riptide's face and kissed along his jaw line, up to his ear which he gently tongued. He brought his mouth back down and kissed Riptide's neck. As always, the younger man's skin was impeccably clean and smelled faintly of soap. Azazel had to stop and listen more intently to his senses in order to pick up Riptide's more subtle scents.

He couldn't bring himself to kiss Riptide's mouth. Maybe someday later, but not now. He would not plunge his tongue inside there and risk feeling the jagged nub that was left behind, although he silently chided himself and felt that he should be able to handle it. He had encountered much worse in his lifetime. Azazel moved his mouth up and kissed Riptide's eyelids - exquisitely gentle, feather-light kisses. His tail lightly stroked Riptide's back and shoulders as Azazel began to murmur, "It is going to be alright. You will see. I have survived horrible things too. We mutants are strong."

Riptide nodded and reached up to squeeze one of Azazel's shoulders. He had done this before since the incident; Azazel translated it to mean roughly, 'I understand' or 'I'm with you.'

Azazel placed a few more kisses along Riptide's face and then stepped back. Efficiently and quietly, he removed his own clothing. He then gestured towards the bed. Riptide sat upon it and Azazel, kneeling in front of him, began to knead his calves and thighs. "I still want you," he murmured. Part of him wanted to curse himself – did he really need to state the obvious? He wasn't sure how much reassurance Riptide needed but told himself that the younger man must require some or he wouldn't be here. He placed kisses along Riptide's legs as his tail played with the curly hairs. "I never like oral thing myself, you know that," Azazel continued. "Giving it to you, yes, that I like – but I don't need it on me." They had discussed it once, long before Shaw had mutilated Riptide. Azazel had remarked that he knew this must be odd, the fact that receiving oral sex did nothing for him. Riptide had shrugged and said that he had been with many men and had seen this once or twice before, that each man had his own likes and dislikes.

That night, Riptide apparently was happy to let Azazel take the lead, as was usually the case for them in the bedroom. He stroked Azazel's hair leisurely and occasionally emitted a soft moan. Azazel continued to kiss and stroke Riptide's body. He nuzzled and kissed Riptide's belly, noting that the younger man would need to eat more; he had clearly lost weight since the assault despite Azazel's best efforts to keep him well-fed.

Azazel dipped his head back down and worked his lips and tongue on Riptide. Riptide let out a few groans but this time they were clearly groans of frustration. Azazel had observed that Riptide had not gotten hard once since he had entered the room and removed his clothing. This was unlike any of their other encounters previously; both men had always been instantly randy almost as soon as the door was closed. That night, Azazel continued to work his mouth on Riptide, taking his time and not rushing, but it was to no avail. Riptide gave one final groan of frustration and gently nudged Azazel's head away.

"It is alright. You are still healing. It will take time. Soon you will feel it again; you will be hard just like before. Time heals all wounds, as they say."

Riptide listened to Azazel's words, meeting his gaze, and then nodded. He reached for the jar of lubricant on Azazel's nightstand and shifted position, turning onto his stomach, offering himself to his lover. Azazel took a moment and looked at the site in front of him, not knowing that he himself resembled an animal confronted with a tantalizing dinner. He ran a hand along Riptide's smooth buttocks. Azazel again fleetingly wondered if he should decline, but knew he just could not. He had started to harden as soon as Riptide's clothing had come off; he had been hot as a skillet. He needed this release.

But he would do it gently. As his tail dipped into the jar and began to prepare Riptide, Azazel caressed his back and shoulders, laying a few kisses on the back of his neck. Riptide turned his head so Azazel could kiss more of his face. One of his hands moved to stroke Riptide's hair. "Such beautiful hair," he whispered as his tail felt a certain resistance gradually give way. Riptide made a quick gesture with his hand which could only mean 'move forward', and Azazel did.

Azazel liked this best of all. The animal instinct he had always had, to thrust, to obey this need of his body's. To get so lost in the pleasure that he need not think of anything else, to feel like a king. Once or twice his tail gingerly snaked around front to see if Riptide had hardened, but he had not. Disappointed as he was over that, Azazel continued to thrust forward making the bedsprings creak, a sound which had always delighted him, had always made him think of his favorite thing. He leaned into Riptide and moved a little faster. He grunted and groaned. When his release came, the pleasure was intense, blocking out all his worries about their future, about appearing weak, about what Shaw might do next.

Azazel reached for towels to clean both men. "Again, tomorrow," he said, and then truly wished he did not sound so much like a drill sergeant. "If you wish it," he amended, making his voice softer. "Maybe then your body feels better. We try again."

Riptide vigorously nodded and moved closer to Azazel. He put his arms around the Russian, and nuzzled his face against his, rubbing the tip of his nose against Azazel's. Azazel found this gesture somehow extremely intimate, for a moment thinking it was better than the wetness of a tongue. It was amazing what the body and the mind could do; amazing how they could recover from the unthinkable.

He mutely watched Riptide dress, wishing they shared a room instead of maintaining separate ones. Even as he silently chastised himself for wanting it, he knew that someday the two men would fall asleep together, warm sweaty bodies mingling under the blankets and succumbing to slumber.

The next night Riptide knocked on Azazel's door again. Azazel had watched him closely during the day, as closely as he felt was possible without attracting undue attention from the other members of the Hellfire Club. He had observed Riptide eat, had trained with him, and even found an excuse to teleport to the surface of the yacht when Shaw and Emma had required Riptide's presence above-deck. From the moments Azazel had spent observing, he saw that Shaw and Emma had regarded Riptide coolly, had given him various orders, but had not taken any aggressive actions against him or thrown any sour looks his way - which truly was a good sign.

That evening, Riptide again began to wordlessly undress as soon as the door to Azazel's cabin was closed. His body was illuminated by the dim lamp on Azazel's nightstand.

"You look good," Azazel said as he watched his lover shed his clothing. Riptide's strong, broad shoulders and muscular arms always aroused him. "You eat well today. More color on you too."

Azazel once again silently chided himself for sounding like an idiot. Riptide's complexion was not that different than usual. For a few days after the assault, Riptide's pallor had varied between unduly pale and slightly pink, but he was back to his usual skin tone now, which made sense given his time in the sun today.

"You train well today too," Azazel added quickly, although he had already given him that feedback during their session earlier. With that comment, Azazel vowed to let his body do the talking from here on out. It was embarrassing enough that the entire Hellfire Club could discern his feelings for Riptide but there was no need to make it even more obvious. It was bad enough that Azazel had spent all day hoping that Riptide would knock on his door again, hoping so fervently that he had almost wanted to pray to a god he didn't believe in. For a moment he wanted to return to his life before when he had lived only in the moment and hadn't spent much time contemplating the future.

Riptide nodded and reached for the pad of paper and pen that Azazel had left on the nightstand. He wrote rapidly, and his printing was neat. The letters were small. "Thank you for taking care of me. I feel better."

Azazel read the words and nodded. He had to give Riptide points for bravery. The man was naked and vulnerable, and he was writing a note to his male lover to thank him for taking care of him, knowing that if Azazel hadn't done so, Riptide would likely be dead now.

Azazel took a step closer to Riptide and his tail reached around and up Riptide's body, slowly caressing legs, backside, and shoulders. While his tail did the touching, Azazel stood placidly and looked at Riptide's eyes. Riptide met his gaze steadily. The past few days Riptide's face had shown mostly pain and fear, yellowed by humiliation. Today his look was one of determination tinged with acceptance.

Azazel liked that look of determination. His tail ceased its exploration of Riptide's shoulders, and Azazel again moved closer, this time grasping the sides of Riptide's face with his hands. He brought his lips to Riptide's and moved his against the others. He didn't insert his tongue – Azazel didn't know if he ever would want to again – but he licked Riptide's lips and again crushed his mouth against the other man's. For an instant, Riptide made a slight gesture as if wanted to step backwards – Azazel was so intense - but he held his ground.

"Very nice," Azazel finally said, after sucking on Riptide's lips for a bit more. He then gently slapped Riptide's rear and stepped back so he could begin to undress himself.

When Azazel finished removing his clothing, he took another look at Riptide's body and smiled. He saw something he liked and nodded approvingly.

"On bed," he gestured.

Riptide sauntered to the bed and lay on his back. The younger man reached his own hand downwards to give himself a few quick strokes. Somewhere between Azazel's kisses and undressing, Riptide had slightly hardened, which had certainly not gone unnoticed.

This time Azazel attacked his target quickly and without preamble, disregarding the slight start Riptide gave in surprise. Azazel positioned himself so that he could reach for Riptide's hardness, and he immediately got his hands, lips, tongue, and throat to work.

This was good, mused Azazel as the minutes progressed. The worries he had experienced lately of being too gentle, too vulnerable, were hard to deal with. But moving aggressively, quickly, strongly on his lover was balm to his soul. And besides, Riptide had always seemed to like that. Azazel brought Riptide to a climax passionately but efficiently. Azazel always told himself that he wasn't a queer but, oddly enough, he prided himself on being able to stay on his lover as the climax was reached and Riptide released deep into his throat. Riptide moaned, the strained sounds of a man who could no longer form words - yet Azazel didn't find the noises disquieting. Without giving Riptide more than a moment to rest, Azazel was using his tail to procure the lubricant and beginning to rearrange Riptide's body, this time keeping him on his back but hefting his legs upwards. The only words he spoke were a triumphant, "I told you that you would like this again, and I see I was right." Azazel got into position, letting Riptide rest his legs on Azazel's shoulders. As he always did, Azazel ensured that the other man was ready before he entered him, but once inside he did not move slowly. He murmured words in Russian; this time they were dirty words and he wasn't sure if Riptide knew them or not but suspected that he did. He murmured that he liked Riptide's tight hole, that he liked fucking him, that he knew Riptide loved every second of what his big dick did to him. Riptide's legs were firm, strong, but also damp and sweaty. One of them rubbed against the side of Azazel's face, the other Azazel held back with a hand. Azazel's head started to swell and spin with the feeling of victory. His lover was well enough to enjoy sex again! And here Azazel was, once again riding him, being the man in bed as he always was. He gritted his teeth, contorted his face, and released himself inside his lover.

When finished, Azazel rolled onto his side, breathing heavily. The room was small and the bed was crammed against a wall. Azazel lay on the side against the wall so that Riptide could leave.

But Riptide stayed. His hands started to touch Azazel, fingertips gently running against Azazel's shoulder, his scarred chest, his abdomen. Riptide looked comfortable, and Azazel felt his heart jump at the realization of how much Riptide's being content thrilled him.

Azazel reached for Riptide's roaming hand and kissed it. With that gesture, he suspected once again that he was a goner. Once again he berated himself for getting attached to this – to any - person.

Riptide then reached for the paper and quickly wrote a question. "Do you want me to get you a drink?" He glanced at the tumbler and bottles across the dim room.

"No," Azazel responded. Earlier he had observed that Riptide appeared to have accepted his fate. Azazel wondered if he could do the same, and decided that perhaps he could. He reached his arms and pulled Riptide closer to him, their damp bodies enmeshed together. "Stay here."

Riptide nuzzled his face against Azazel's and began to drift off to sleep. After some tossing and turning, Azazel was able to do the same.

THE END