moritat | Victorian weenie au

He doesn't taste vile. He fills her mouth and belly same as any other man. Once Paloma's taken what's safe, she licks the bite for rapid healing, lets him rest against her until the paralysis wears off, and she thinks up excuses to fill the gap in his memory ...

"Mr. Hyde? Mr. Hyde! Are you all right?" Don't open your eyes, she thinks abruptly. You look like an angel.

He has fallen asleep on her, like the child he could be by appearance at this moment. It's a good thing he is fresh and won't change during sleep, just yet. Hyde wakes with a start, eyes wide as he searches to remember where he is. It would be understandable if she laughed at him. Big bad Hyde innocent and panicked.

Some men might kill to awaken cradled to a lovely woman's bosom, her arms and chest the only things keeping him upright. Why, if he feigned weakness and laid his cheek down upon them, none could point fingers.

Paloma blinks worriedly. "You are back!"

"--What happened?" He looks up at her, but in the end, does exactly that, resting his head upon her chest. Nose very nearly between her breasts. Look at him, he is young and cute, allow him the breast cushion.

Young, cute, absent eight ounces of blood. He's excused the familiarity and Paloma thoughtlessly runs gloved fingers through his messy hair.

"Do you often fall asleep so sudden?" she inquires, all wide-eyed innocence that doesn't seem out of place despite the bruised look of her mouth. From kissing-- she's careful not to leave flecks of blood.

Yes, he can be excused, he feels so dizzy, after all. Did he fall ill suddenly? Maybe a bad reaction to the transformation drug?

He could sleep right there on her, and almost more Jekyll than Hyde in this state, he seems very ready and content to do just that, curling up against her. It's a moment before he answers, and very nearly forgotten, which might be obvious in his suddenly soft, sleepy voice. "No, never, I am no child..."

A multitude of reasons for a spell of unconsciousness. Nothing of her could possibly be threatening ...

God, when was she last fitted to another so neatly, so naturally? Carlos never holds her anymore. Only the briefest of possessive touches. Reminders. Guilt-ridden for this somehow obscene need, she presses a kiss to his temple. "No, no child. You are much the man."

"Exactly." It's very nearly a whine, and wrapping an arm around Paloma's waist, he certainly does himself no favours. It doesn't occur to him that the drug will wear off within a few hours, he just wants to rest here. He just wants to be with her right now, the innocent desire of his better half mingling with the selfish desires of his own.

What a dizzy baby. Her lips move against Hyde's hair, but no words come. This is an altogether different desire than the one spiraling out of control at their mouths and hands exploring each other, a desire no less powerful.

Their driver, oblivious, keeps rattling onward. Her home isn't close; they have a while yet.

"Where will you go after he delivers me?"

He kisses her chest idly, not wanting to think about how close it may or may not be. It's nice here. Even monsters want to cuddle sometimes!!!!!

"Hmm..." He pauses, seems almost to fall asleep again, but, "Home, I suppose." His home, not Jekyll's. Or maybe Jekyll's. He doesn't know. It depends. It doesn't matter.

Detecting no licentiousness on his part, Paloma relaxes completely in his presence for the very first time tonight. He can kiss her wherever he likes.

"Close your eyes," she murmurs.

He's glad to do as he's told, he thought she'd never ask!! "All right." Please cradle him forever. And bite him when he gets out of hand to subdue him into being a damn teddy bear.

Behind his head she tugs off one glove, then the other, dropping them with her fallen hat. A turn of the cab leads her to tighten around him until they're safe from rolling off the cushioned seat.

When they are, little touches begin to linger at a variety of points on Hyde's face. His brow, to start. Beneath his eyes. A thumb creasing, tracing the line below his hip.

That is a good way to have him snoozing once again. There's a small sigh, a wild beast tamed in her lap. Eventually the effects will wear off, but for now Hyde is weak.

The cab stops too soon.

Far too soon for them to have arrived, actually. Paloma's ears pick up a ruckus somewhere in front of their fancy box and the voice of their driver after a brisk knock at the window.

"Apologies! Collision ahead on the bridge! They're cleaning up, it'll be just a bit."

"This is fine," she calls back, and winces, hoping it didn't startle her tamed wild thing. Her palm sketches over his cheek.

He stirs, "what?" lifts his head, drops it, and nothing more. Once again, this monster of a man is innocent as anything, no evil present in the young face that should, by all rights, look so sweet. Does look sweet on Jekyll.

Because it won't last, she determines to enjoy his harmlessness while he's as snuggly as a favorite teddy.

(Harm to her self-control counts as a danger, just not bodily.)

Paloma brushes her knuckles against the hair at his nape, chin tucking to make a study of him. "We are to wait. I protect you for now."

It helps too that he has slept so little in the weeks gone by, his body can't continue to run on fumes.

And in losing blood, he has also lost traces of the potion. While they wait, after some time, he begins to change. It's not instantaneous, but it is also not a slow transition. Within thirty seconds, he's grown a little taller, aged a few years, and if she could see it, the real give away would be the eye colour. But still he sleeps.

His growth is simple enough to disregard. It only feels like he's adjusting their positioning, which, well, that's reasonable!

She doesn't continue to watch his sleeping face after drinking-- ha-- her fill. When his 'adjustment' stops, she trails more paths absentmindedly over his back ...

The sigh that comes is that if a softer voice, not so deep or gruff. But surely that's easily passed off as well. His eyes blink open slowly, calm and content at first, before he realises his own awareness and the feeling of his body. It is not the same as when he slept, he is himself again, and he can't be seen here. His heart skips a beat, and eyes darting about the carriage, he scrambles to grab his hat to hide his face as he dashes for the door, into the street.

To his magnificent misfortune, Paloma catches a glimpse of his face the instant she feels tension pass between them. With their bodies coiled around and intertwined like so, there's no way for her not to feel the difference.

"Harry," is the only surprised observation she's given enough time to make before the wayward doctor hightails it out of the cab.

What in the name of God's going on?

Nope what is she talking about, he isn't Harry!!!

Of course, he has to be sure to write the driver a note for his services before taking cover. But it's a hurried thing that might not be entirely identifiable, between that rush and his shaking hand.

Better run, since he can't explain!!

But what's this? Paloma leans a little ways out of the door, head and half of her torso hanging in the wind with the look of a bewildered puppy. "... Doctor Jekyll?"

I CAN'T EXPLAAAAAAIN

In that moment he is half child caught with his hand in the cookie jar, half prey caught in the grasp of a predator. He inhales sharp, clenching his jaw together. What will he do.

The answer is, try to keep his eyes obscured and lower his voice, to about Hyde's pitch. As best he can. "I apologise, Mrs. Vasquez, I suddenly remembered something."

"Harry."

Don't be stupid, man, she can tell he's grown taller, can hear the difference in voice. Saw his damned face.

"Come back inside. Please."

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject