He would finally turn to look at her, but her cheek on his is a pleasant thing he doesn't want to give up so quickly. In his mind he argues her point, that regardless of her willingness, it was wrong of him, that lust is a terrible, grave sin, and he has damned both of them in giving in to it. And he is still so very nearly a stranger to her, and a horrible, duplicitous man. But he keeps quiet with it. "...Yes?"
But if he hadn't, he would learn she is already damned. However she struggles.
Since Jekyll has neither shrugged her off nor pulled her closer, Paloma's content to stay as they are. He smells nice. He smells like her. She holds onto that idea to bury her fear.
"I am not married. He stole me and says I am his wife. Lying with you is not that grave sin."
"Nor are we married, nor seeking children-" Sex should only occur for the purpose of reproduction, between a married couple, as God intended! He could rattle off everything he believes without questioning about vices and virtues, but her first words finally set in. Startled by it, eyes growing wide and chest constricting, he finally turns to Paloma. "He what?"
Admittedly Paloma's perspective on sin has warped despite Catholic upbringing, a direct result of the Embrace, its effect on the psyche and realities of nightly living. That being said, guilt sticks to them like burrs on a horse. On the backburner if not in focus.
When he moves, so does she by necessity. An arm crosses over her chest in a subconscious need for some protection. "He lies. I lie. I cannot do anything else. Please, Harry, I told you because you understand hiding a shameful truth, because I am already lost, but I wanted to be alive tonight. You took no advantage."
Realising in that action that they are having this conversation undressed, that they have been for some time, his cheeks flush. Jekyll reaches for a sheet to offer to her, and not finding a second...places a pillow in his lap. As if it matters now. Nudity is a big deal okay.
But then it's back to what she's revealed. "Yes, yes, but are you alright with that arrangement?" With pretending to be his wife, with being taken away overseas.
The answer is in how quick her eyes are to slide off of his.
Paloma wears the sheet to be polite and to have something to hold more than misplaced embarrassment. They've done worse than look and be exposed. "What changes? He is shown as false, and then I am less than before?"
And yet he holds on to his own covering so it won't shift, in deep embarrassment.
"It is no fault of your own, you would not be less." Although part of him does know that is how she would be seen by others. "There is no reason you must endure such mistreatment."
"Fault is mine," she argues unthinkingly. The poison she's been drinking curls in and around every word. Her knees draw up to her chest, and the sheet droops indecently only to be ignored. "I let him court me. Like a child, I believed in him. And I said, 'I can be with you!'"
Paloma subsides and bites the inside of her lips, releasing them instantly in recognition of that being an awful habit even for sheathed fangs. She hides her face into her knees.
"Even should I wish to speak of your secret, which I do not, it would need be explained how it is I have come to know such a thing. My own shame would be revealed. There is no better insurance."
He leans forward, tentatively, to touch her cheek (don't look down, don't look down, weenie noises, don't look down, eyes on the prize, keep it eyelevel, not on her nakedness nope). "It is not your fault, every moment there are men lying and women believing them. If you are robbed, none would think to argue the fault as yours, it rests solely in the thief. Such a lie may as well be theft of innocence."
She's glad for that secrecy, for hearing the truth. He won't have to forget.
Even though the Beast is ever-present in its appetite and his blood would serve as well as any, Paloma tilts into his palm, eyelashes tickling Jekyll's fingers.
Making a meal of him is the last thing she wants to do. So long as the Beast is caged. There's other prey.
"Of course. You were not wrong to love." In a moment of boldness, Jekyll takes her head in his hands and kisses her forehead. "Although you need not live this way."
Plucking at his shame cushion in shyness, her lips quiver. He may not be good, but he's kind. Even in the jaws of her sire she can dream a little dream.
"You are so generous." Were her eyes so hypnotically luminous before? They're dizzying. "He cannot be touched as a farmer never puts hands on a king. But I greatly love to see a future without."
"Not at all." He can only be shameful, not generous, he hasn't done anything for her. And that shame cushion better stay where it is.....
"There would be less damage done sooner than later." It's only to point out to her, not to insist at all. Something to keep in mind. Realising where his hands are, he drops them, into his lap, on the shame cushion.
That persistence is frustrating but wins him a partially suppressed smile. It reminds her of the hopelessness of the trap she's fallen into, but he means well.
Is there harm in indulging a fantasy?
Paloma curls onto her side, head pillowed by an outstretched arm. "Perhaps he is ran off. Would you appear?"
"Appear?" He thinks he may understand what she means by that, but he can't be sure, and so he can't assume. That could be awkward.
He also debates turning back onto the bed properly - it's rude not to look at someone you're speaking to. But - no, there's no but, he shifts to do much the same, which means his shame cushion doesn't work so well anymore...
That isn't quote what he'd thought. But he does blush for her tender gesture. "Of course, I would be your friend always, you must never doubt such a thing. Particularly in a time of need." Even if he may disappear for a while shortly.
She does so appreciate the statuesque angles of his face. Paloma keeps her fist pressed against herself to stay the need to explore him, now that they lie quietly outside of a hot frenzy.
"Then here is to the night, and to our friendship."
Truly he might very much like to do the same. But that has to be put out of mind. How can he be so terrible as to even think it. Especially when she speaks of friendship! Something he's already trampled on in doing this.
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moritat2015-08-17 04:59 pm
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Since Jekyll has neither shrugged her off nor pulled her closer, Paloma's content to stay as they are. He smells nice. He smells like her. She holds onto that idea to bury her fear.
"I am not married. He stole me and says I am his wife. Lying with you is not that grave sin."
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When he moves, so does she by necessity. An arm crosses over her chest in a subconscious need for some protection. "He lies. I lie. I cannot do anything else. Please, Harry, I told you because you understand hiding a shameful truth, because I am already lost, but I wanted to be alive tonight. You took no advantage."
1/2
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Paloma wears the sheet to be polite and to have something to hold more than misplaced embarrassment. They've done worse than look and be exposed. "What changes? He is shown as false, and then I am less than before?"
Nothing changes after today.
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"It is no fault of your own, you would not be less." Although part of him does know that is how she would be seen by others. "There is no reason you must endure such mistreatment."
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Paloma subsides and bites the inside of her lips, releasing them instantly in recognition of that being an awful habit even for sheathed fangs. She hides her face into her knees.
"You cannot tell. Please."
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He leans forward, tentatively, to touch her cheek (don't look down, don't look down, weenie noises, don't look down, eyes on the prize, keep it eyelevel, not on her nakedness nope). "It is not your fault, every moment there are men lying and women believing them. If you are robbed, none would think to argue the fault as yours, it rests solely in the thief. Such a lie may as well be theft of innocence."
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Even though the Beast is ever-present in its appetite and his blood would serve as well as any, Paloma tilts into his palm, eyelashes tickling Jekyll's fingers.
Making a meal of him is the last thing she wants to do. So long as the Beast is caged. There's other prey.
"You mean all these words."
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"You are so generous." Were her eyes so hypnotically luminous before? They're dizzying. "He cannot be touched as a farmer never puts hands on a king. But I greatly love to see a future without."
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"There would be less damage done sooner than later." It's only to point out to her, not to insist at all. Something to keep in mind. Realising where his hands are, he drops them, into his lap, on the shame cushion.
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Is there harm in indulging a fantasy?
Paloma curls onto her side, head pillowed by an outstretched arm. "Perhaps he is ran off. Would you appear?"
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He also debates turning back onto the bed properly - it's rude not to look at someone you're speaking to. But - no, there's no but, he shifts to do much the same, which means his shame cushion doesn't work so well anymore...
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"As my friend. In this dream where he leaves and I am alive."
Her fingers curl. She takes them from his hair.
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"Then here is to the night, and to our friendship."
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He smiles. "Secrets and freedom."