moritat | Victorian weenie au

Lightning-fast, she whips around to press a finger over her lips, and returns to her listening post.

Fortune be not with these two. No less than three different voices sound off around the open door to her quarters. Confident nobody is within, the servants hover and exchange local gossip at a downright slothful pace. Moving on doesn't occur to them.

Paloma backs away from the door, rising onto her toes to carry a whisper. "Better you are not seen here." Gee. Brought their lips terribly close, didn't she.

His cheeks flush, his heart pounds...his dick swells. Although he tries to fight the urge to kiss her all the more. He must try. But it's terribly difficult. Who's out there - her servants? Oh no...this could take a while. Locked in a washroom together.

No, he can't stop himself. It's a valiant effort, but it all flies out the window when he closes that small gap between them by pulling her toward him. How long he's been holding it back is evident, it's a kiss worth no less than a dozen.

At least he remembers not to make a noise. Lest they be caught locking lips.

That dizzy and dizzying look to him is a recognizable one, but were she not searching for it Paloma would've rocked onto her heels. Kept distance and minded propriety more.

She has not and will not. Suspension off-balance satisfies her a deal more than the dry patch they've done without kissing. Hyde's does not figure in. Gasping foolishly, her hands behind his neck urge him closer, closer. 'Yes' and 'please' are the two things she says in a whisper almost nonexistent.

He doesn't dare to say anything at all, not only for the fear of one of the people in the other room hearing it, but perhaps more importantly, for preoccupation. The more pressing matter is the need to kiss Paloma and to have her in his arms. Because for all that he's nasty and sexstarved he's also a sentimental weenie. Holding her tight against himself is just as important. It isn't meant to be sexual at all, but his boner might ruin that a little.

Either he's got the self-control of an adolescent boy or he's that happy to see-- er, hold her. Paloma likes the second option better.

They hadn't been up to anything suspicious until real danger of people catching them at it cropped up. That coaxes a breathy laugh out against his mouth, not a shove. They're home, why should they separate? A flash of glee at their-- well-- their preoccupation leads her to instigation. Trouble-making that starts with teeth in his lower lip and the slide of her hips.

It's a thought that occurs to him as well, that the fear of being caught is so clearly exciting, that ultimately it pushed him to take that step over into impropriety. But he doesn't want to consider what it could say about him.

And once he starts to give himself over to such things, he can't only go halfway, it's all or nothing. So he doesn't stop himself from laying a hand on her waist, or letting it travel further, seeking out the end of her skirt to slip under and onto her thigh, nor does he stop his hips from pressing back against hers. It's a good thing too that her mouth muffles his reaction to her bite, or they really might be heard.

He spends ages going about the business of a hand under her skirt, but that's okay, they're busying themselves in the meanwhile. Paloma has entirely too much fun confusing blood-hunger for something sexual, so easy when they're interchangeable.

Laughter from outside the quarters. Her mouth slices left off of his, partly open but fang-free for now, and she listens keenly. Equally keen hands slip underneath his waistcoat in a blind hunt for hooks, buttons, whatever keeps his trousers up!!

Buttons and suspenders are what she'll find. Meanwhile he realises the curse of the fashion of the time. After getting past the mass of skirts, there's still bloomers to contend with, when all he wants is uninterrupted thigh. And maybe a handful of ass. But no they have to make that difficult. Still, he slips his hand under the elastic cuff, if only to spite these damn clothes!!

But the absence of her teeth pushes him to finally speak, as low as he can manage, "Did you need to drink...?"

Pooh pooh to the double trouble of suspenders AND buttons. She's let blood magic alter, no, add onto her appetite, meaning frustration like any other enterprising lover. Paloma quite forgets he'll have his own legion of buttons to contend with.

At least the bloomers won't resist. Haphazardly working on his trousers while insistently stealing kisses again and again, "No, no! Just this. Please."

Well, it isn't any trouble to accommodate that. At least once he gets his hand into her bloomers and slid up her thigh, he has an easier task than she. If he ignores properly undressing her for now. No one can ever say Henry Jekyll is a selfish lover...!! At least there's that to keep his good name, right?

"I swear I didn't come here with this in mind...!" Just so she knows. He wasn't being a randy bastard when he knocked on her door... Even if right now it's gotten the better of him.

What is it about the touch of a glove rather than bare skin on skin! She sucks in air too sharp, too noisily, and her legs quiver. Some miracle releases the last bit holding the trousers aloft. Now just their hips pressing roughly together keep them from sliding any.

Still more to unbutton. And she's less than perfectly deft with his hand between her thighs. "I know, I know. Neither did I ...!" These awful underthings.

Good, as long as she knows he isn't just a nasty man who came calling for sex. This wasn't a bootycall. Even with his fingers at work between her thighs there's still more to do, though. Like the matter of her dress and corset. Not that he wouldn't find mostly clothed sex exciting too... Still, his free hand finds the buttons down her back and takes only enough care not to rip it.

That doesn't mean it's treated delicately, though. All the less so for every kiss he steals, too. But finally it reaches down to her waist without a single button popping off. With great reluctance he pulls his hand out from under her skirt, only to be able to help it off. To make fingering her easier in the long-run. Priorities.

Why does it apparently always turn into desperate lovemaking when he follows her up a flight of stairs??

The dress, being a pretty thing, would upset her if harmed. Look at what happened to Hyde when he tore her skirts!

Although it's not as if he hasn't sufficiently distracted her during the unbuttoning ordeal, and the protest she allows herself at his withdrawal comes out a heady, short whine. Paloma reluctantly leaves off him to assist with dress removal. The cerulean piece pools on the washroom floor beside her boot heels, and she stands there otherwise in corset, bloomers, and stockings.

"I hate these," she informs him, returning fast to HIS underclothes' fastenings. Paloma ducks away from kisses and squirms from any questing fingers, so determined is she to solve the problem.

At first he does try to kiss and to touch her...until it's clear she's too preoccupied. Then he turns his efforts instead to helping, after all, he knows the workings of his own underclothes better.

Of course, once he's properly opened his underpants...the thought of how they'll be quiet enough not to be caught sinks in. Heavy petting is one thing, outright intercourse another. Although it's at once exciting as well...

Maybe he had better just...get down on his knees, hands planted on her hips, to stick his face between her legs!! More importantly between the slit in her bloomers. A shameful act to some, but Henry Jekyll goes down. Anatomical research might not be his thing, but still, as a doctor he knows his stuff, can't put that knowledge to waste. Wow this is embarrassing. That doesn't mean he's even thinking of backing down though. No, he's setting that tongue to work.

Some who boast familiarity with the bone structure of a Tyrannosaurus would identify some relation to its arms and what Paloma does with hers. Shock! Less appall. The great service he's performing is too wonderful to complain about.

Her legs go stiff as trees and root to the washroom floor; she knots fingers a little ungently through his hair. Distant recall of the first and only time a man's tongue ever stroked her flits in and out of her mind, gone because that was years gone and Henry is the one who's with her now.

"Aaaah," she blurts. Look, she's trying hard to keep her mouth shut, but it's haaard!!

He looks up, panic stricken, as if he would have expected anything else. Did anyone hear that? And if they did, will they come looking? Surely they'll just assume it's Paloma taking a bath! On her own! Right? Wide eyes wordlessly tell her to keep quiet, at least as best she can, implore her.

And then he ducks back down, pressing a kiss to the inside of her thigh. But those fingers in his hair prompt him to continue without having to be told. It's reward enough to have her pull on it like that. Plenty satisfying in its own way. And a good way to determine how he's doing, what angle or speed to keep at, and as a scientist it's an interesting experiment for him! Something to remember for another time.

Paloma returns his panic in equal measure, but the sound of gossip hasn't missed a beat. Safer to clap a hand over her mouth to muffle the reedy gasps coming out all on their own.

It's too good, he's too good to her, her knees buckle and knock together just when it feels like he's getting to the best part of it. She lurches backward and onto her arse, shivering. Her thighs shake even though there was no finish.

"Hhhhahh, hahh, Harry," her turn to implore. She begs with her eyes, too.

Oh- "Are you alright?" He whispers, bending down onto his hands and knees above her. ...he could listen to what she has to say, or he could steal her lips with more kisses, and an ever busy hand.

That's as good as listening.

And with his multitasking kisses and finger-fucking a recent divorcée, and the near miss of servants catching them, that ends things. She quietly loses it. As in she breaks off from the sloppy kiss and down, upper shoulders thumping wood, her spine arches and seizes up.

Clapping over her mouth is all that spares them an awkward conversation about why Miss Vasquez is coming with her doctor's fingers jammed up in her.

...Gynecological exam? That would be a good excuse, right?

Just because she's done doesn't mean he stops right away. That wouldn't be very kind, anyway, to just stop all of a sudden! Instead he eases off, only once he's entirely certain she really is finished. Kissing her cheek, he whispers confessions of love into her ear.

THEN ONLY ONE OF THEM SHOULD GET UNDRESSED

God bless him and his generosity, helping her ride it for as long as possible. Their only time together, a long while ago on the East End, seems so rushed and slapdash by comparison. If they just had more time ...

Her eyes open to black slits, turning on the floor to lick him full on the mouth. "I love you, let me, let me show ..." He can hear it solely because of his proximity. Nobody may overhear. Her grip settles onto his underpants and sees to sliding them off.

It's another matter when attentions are turned to him. That's - well that's unnecessary, isn't it? She doesn't need to do anything for him, he's gross, he'll taint her with how gross he is!!! What a bad man. But he does so desperately want her, he can't protest. Besides, doing so might call attention.

That lick was also a bit distracting, it's not every day someone outright licks you on the mouth. He can hardly finish reacting to it before his pants are gone and he's left kneeling there fully exposed. But he expects that if anything, she'll just use her hand. That's...maybe not so bad. It could be worse, anyway. It could be proper intercourse, or something perverse - like what he just did. Terribly, ungodly sins.

Gone is relative. Paloma's happy just getting them low enough to not obstruct her, leaving them bunched above his knees. It's well enough.

Luck be with Henry, fangs don't protrude as her lips part. Exceptional luck when she's turned and slithered onto her belly, wrapping just one hand around the base of him and pushing herself a small ways up with the other; what can it be but lucky, what with taking the whole length into her mouth? Ha ha no gag reflex

Oh - oh no this is already shaping up to be The Best Blowjob Ever™, how can she do that, especially without easing into it?! His face flushes deep scarlet, spine jolts and seems to lock in place. But will she really be okay, she's going to choke, oh good god, what is he going to do, he has to clamp a hand over his mouth just to muffle himself already, how can he tell her not to choke?! The people outside will definitely, absolutely hear if he tries to say anything...!!! "Paloma," it's nothing more than a wheeze, barely audible through his hand. But there's nothing to say it's for anything more than pleasure.

She's going to choke and it's going to be his fault because he's the sort of terrible man who wants to shove his dick down a lady's throat!! Who would take advantage of said lady being in a vulnerable situation, too! Who forces his lust on her time and again! He's going to have to hide another body and it's going to be someone he loves, at that. Naturally, the more he panics, the more he's into it. But also, the more tears well up in his eyes, until they have no choice but to spill over.

See, for a while, she takes his panicking to mean this is some excellent work. And wheezing her name like every breath is hard-won! The ultimate compliment. Her lashes flutter, and smug, Paloma shapes her tongue to the underside of his dick as she withdraws almost in full. That lasts all of two seconds before her mouth slides down the shaft again with no regard for that little thing called breathing.

"Mmmhmm?" Been a couple years-- she's not got a load of experience under her belt, precisely, but sucking a man off requires no degree in high sex education. This is how it's done, yes??

She has no idea he's starting to cry.

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