He wears much the same expression, too shocked for words. He tries to speak, but all he can do is pull her into an embrace. It doesn't matter why, she's alive, and he doesn't have to worry and he can see her again.
He might hold on a little too tight, at least, for a normal person.
It's no great shock, but mired in her gladness to be held onto so tightly is the guilt of having let him believe there'd been a tragedy. She smells the tears on him; Paloma is well-acquainted with their scent. Without further protest she returns his embrace in a grip as powerful as it's safe to be.
"I am sorry," she blubbers, voice wobbling. "I did not warn you why I cannot walk at day, I am sorry."
"No, no, it's all right!" He's just glad she's okay now. "It is only that I feared I had lost you, but I have not-- I feared you had been lost, but you have not, I should say." Not that he likes her or anything!!
Her heart might explode if he keeps up this business with 'feared I had lost you', and then where would they be??
She peppers his temple with dry, panicky kisses rather than deflect his awkwardness or unconvincing disclaimers. Does his back hurt? A reminder to be careful with her strength and his human body could be in order. "It is not all right, and you did not lose me!"
"It is all right, as you are all right." He doesn't even notice how strong her grip is, or any pain, how can he when he's so intent on the same. Until all at once he realises he can hardly breathe. Of course he can't just say 'stop that', so he loosens his own hold on her as a possible indicator.
"Ahh," she very nearly protests. Suddenly aware she's not minding her strength and he's only human, Paloma's hands slide off his back to let Jekyll go.
Impulse drives her to tug him by the collar of his gown before they separate and go in for the kill. This kiss feels more like jagged desperation, if that wasn't already evident in her choice of lab table for lip-locking.
His heart races, just to be able to kiss her again at all, but especially for the intensity. Where he would normally hesitate, instead Jekyll lays hands on either side of her jaw.
Now that he finally really understands what Paloma has been trying to tell him about what she is, it's a little frightening, and much more so enthralling because of that.
The thud of his heartbeat in her ears makes up for the silence of her own. She feels elated, a little wild, hungrier rather than appeased.
When her fangs slide out Paloma hardly notices until they nick him, and the electric tang startles her back. In abject mortification she sits fully upright and covers her mouth--
Oh. It's startling, but...not at all bad. It occurs to him that he doesn't know how often she needs to eat - drink - but it's been a day. Actually, he thinks the apology is for kissing him, rather than scratching him. "No, it's quite all right!" How many times is he going to say it's all right today.
He dabs at the blood on his lip. "Do you need to eat...?"
From the shocked and embarrassed look on her face, he may as well have propositioned they fuck right on this table!!
To feed on someone she knows and thinks of with fondness seems more intimate than the kiss they shared just now. Her fingertips press into her lips, and Paloma blinks rapidly as if that will hide her blown pupils. "Do you ... offer me this?"
She's uncertain whether she would have the strength of character to refuse.
"--I'm sorry, is that inappropriate?" From the look on her face, it must be..... But that wasn't his intent, he just thought it would make things easier for her?!
"No!" she yelps. Paloma fidgets where she sits, smooths her skirt over. "Perhaps? I do not know. You are the first I ..."
None of the other kine saw her for longer than a night, and rarely if ever that. Nobody who gave blood would recognize her name, or her face. Her memories of the feeding are always singular and unaccompanied. That intimacy has therefore only been one-sided. Unrequited and frankly sad.
"Well, I suppose no one has known before, after all." At least, he thinks it's pretty safe to assume no one knows. Forgetting too, of course, that he was one such meal some time ago.
She reaches out, clasps his hand. Brings it in to tilt her cheek into his knuckles. It's both an excuse to keep her gaze downcast and lets her feel him.
"You see what I have done to that man, and you still ..."
"If that is a possibility, then I would prefer to use myself as the subject of experimentation." He laughs a little, not as much as he might otherwise, considering what happened last time he used himself as a test subject. "It is a doctor's duty to keep people safe and healthy. That includes you, of course."
Paloma will just press a closed-mouth kiss to the hand she stole if he doesn't extricate himself, thank you. "It is not agony if your monster is gentle. I do not need to take too much." Her voice drops. "Would you sit with me?"
"Of course." He smiles...and realises that he still isn't dressed. Ah. And she's sitting on a lab table. "Would you like to sit somewhere a little more comfortable, perhaps?"
Looks like the appropriate course of action is to let go of the poor man. She wiggles off the table and onto her bare feet, failing utterly to block out old blood and death's lingering scent. Finally, after avoiding them for so long, she peeks at his eyes. "You will forget comfort if we do this."
Chez lounges are one of the pieces of furniture Paloma enjoys the most about England. They're much, much rarer in the Americas. She rocks forward onto her toes to get a good, appreciative look at it, incidentally tugging his elbow.
"Pretty." Beauty's beauty. With that she twists and reclaims her arm, stopping at a length just before her fingers fall from Jekyll. Picking backward step by step, staring up-- maybe he remembers the hunger in her eyes when she led him to the tavern bed. This isn't dissimilar.
He recognises it, and something in himself he doesn't like. To get away from that feeling, he gestures that she should sit, on the lounge if she likes, and opens a wardrobe. "If you will excuse me a moment, I shall dress properly!"
She takes the hint, arranges herself on the lounge. When his back is turned Paloma bounces on it, just a little.
"Please, you are the house master!" To gather the Beast more tightly, to be less driven by appetite, she flops gracelessly onto a pillow and squeezes that. No no. Don't mind her. Go get dressed.
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moritat2015-08-17 04:59 pm
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He might hold on a little too tight, at least, for a normal person.
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"I am sorry," she blubbers, voice wobbling. "I did not warn you why I cannot walk at day, I am sorry."
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She peppers his temple with dry, panicky kisses rather than deflect his awkwardness or unconvincing disclaimers. Does his back hurt? A reminder to be careful with her strength and his human body could be in order. "It is not all right, and you did not lose me!"
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Impulse drives her to tug him by the collar of his gown before they separate and go in for the kill. This kiss feels more like jagged desperation, if that wasn't already evident in her choice of lab table for lip-locking.
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Now that he finally really understands what Paloma has been trying to tell him about what she is, it's a little frightening, and much more so enthralling because of that.
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When her fangs slide out Paloma hardly notices until they nick him, and the electric tang startles her back. In abject mortification she sits fully upright and covers her mouth--
"Sorry. Very sorry!"
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He dabs at the blood on his lip. "Do you need to eat...?"
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To feed on someone she knows and thinks of with fondness seems more intimate than the kiss they shared just now. Her fingertips press into her lips, and Paloma blinks rapidly as if that will hide her blown pupils. "Do you ... offer me this?"
She's uncertain whether she would have the strength of character to refuse.
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None of the other kine saw her for longer than a night, and rarely if ever that. Nobody who gave blood would recognize her name, or her face. Her memories of the feeding are always singular and unaccompanied. That intimacy has therefore only been one-sided. Unrequited and frankly sad.
"Nobody gives this freely before."
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"You see what I have done to that man, and you still ..."
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Paloma will just press a closed-mouth kiss to the hand she stole if he doesn't extricate himself, thank you. "It is not agony if your monster is gentle. I do not need to take too much." Her voice drops. "Would you sit with me?"
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Looks like the appropriate course of action is to let go of the poor man. She wiggles off the table and onto her bare feet, failing utterly to block out old blood and death's lingering scent. Finally, after avoiding them for so long, she peeks at his eyes. "You will forget comfort if we do this."
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He offers his arm to lead her upstairs to the office space, much more properly furnished with an armchair and even a chez lounge.
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"Pretty." Beauty's beauty. With that she twists and reclaims her arm, stopping at a length just before her fingers fall from Jekyll. Picking backward step by step, staring up-- maybe he remembers the hunger in her eyes when she led him to the tavern bed. This isn't dissimilar.
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"Please, you are the house master!" To gather the Beast more tightly, to be less driven by appetite, she flops gracelessly onto a pillow and squeezes that. No no. Don't mind her. Go get dressed.