Her shoulder and chest are going to be awfully wet.
Having to clarify, he can't really decide which he meant by it still. He feels badly for her having to put up with this. It's one thing when he cries with some one night stand or prostitute, he can just leave, or they're being paid so it's fine to ride it out.
"...You may." It can't get any worse, he's already disgusting! Might as well finish the job. Fingers twist in her hair and the strings tying her corset together. He isn't about to stop clinging, though.
He says that, but still she frets. She sits back onto her feet and regards him with the utmost solemnity before taking his face up between impossibly gentle palms.
"I am happy to. But you are not happy, love. We do not need to."
"Please forgive me." Does he mean for crying and interrupting her, or for wanting sex in the first place? The answer is both, and that's why he can't look her in the eye.
She kisses him on the mouth, feather-light and startlingly chaste. Only then do her hands drop from Jekyll.
And still she smiles, hoping to show the good will he hasn't impugned. Certainly they are a mess, and have made a mess, but that's all this is. A mess they can work on. "Nothing needs my forgiving. Ah ... we should, ahh, dress?"
Lord, her bloomers will smell strange under the heaviness of those skirts. Paloma picks at the wet slit of it absently.
"...Have they gone?" Is it safe to go out, and to speak?
His own hands still want to seek her out in some way, any at all. Those moments of being comforted and looked after have spoiled him. Paloma isn't warm, and yet she is. There's also the matter of his blueballs, and at least having some intimacy might help to ease that off... Maybe. It's better than not, anyway.
Paloma listens for chatter, footsteps, other telltale signs, but the group has moved on. "Yes."
Holding him again comes as a natural instinct. She latches on torso to torso, where she can tuck under his chin and he can cry it out without somebody staring. As for his neglected dingus... it gets squeezed between their bodies. So, temporarily forgotten, but there is a resolution.
Is that really a resolution? He chooses to put it out of mind. Which is not so easy to actually do. But he can tuck his chin over her head, to hold her close.
"I am sorry, truly. For everything. You deserve much better, always! I came to apologise, and yet I need to do so yet again..." Of course, he's such a weenie that he keeps crying all the while.
The man's got it into his head that he's done her a disservice while Paloma only wants to know how she can help him see. See her willingness, the excitement more than the shame of nearly rutting like dogs.
Her eyes lower from maidenly guilt at the obscenity of that thought. "But it was lovely. You are lovely. Kind, too." She really ought to be kind to him as well. Ladylike little fingers seek out what dangles from his trousers and encircle it.
That's because the worry is more selfish than he'd like to say. For not wanting to appear any less than perfect. Not so much an apology as please forget I have imperfections.
But he wouldn't even be able to get his pants back on if that obscene hardon stayed, so how can he protest the help. It's appropriate really, it's all the more pathetic and like him to be sitting on the floor of a washroom, crying while being jerked off. His fingers find her hair again, though this time to stroke rather than violently tangle up within it.
A fair hand more encouraging, given his emotional state. Although this would've ended sooner if she used her mouth, this will do him fine. Lubricant's easy to come by so as not to hurt him with unpleasant friction. A slick palm's good enough for anyone!
Paloma forgets caution about where the mess will end up. With his dick trapped between them, and her curled over it ...
A slick palm is usually what he takes, if anything - you don't hear him complaining! On the other hand, that other self rumbles inside him for annoyance with the entire situation. He could have had the best head in the world. Deep throat central. But no.
He's grateful for the servants having left, so he doesn't have to worry about the low moan that escapes his lips. Or when it escalates to something with more volume, as he arches his hips closer, breath caught in his throat between the sobs and climax. ...But he also forget their positioning, until the moment it's over, and he suddenly recalls, her clothes. All at once he pulls away to look down at her, mouth agape.
Reality is so cruel. First, in the middle of his orgasm, Paloma realizes she's rarin' to have another go; second, his jizz went all over her chin and corset. Some of it's escaped down her cleavage, and she feels another wet spot across her throat.
"Sssh ... umm," she says blankly. A flush is in her cheeks that could never be there but for the blood magic's false life. "Ummm."
...Um is right. All he can do is stare in horror. He's defiled her, gotten his dirty seed all over her, what a disgusting, terrible man?! "I-I am so sorry!!"
It's kind of a turn on. Even after he's just spent himself. But no he can't think that way, that's all Hyde, not him, Jekyll would never! Obviously!
Could be worse. Could have gotten into her eyes. Big bad vampires still use those.
Paloma flexes out her fingers and tries to think of the best way out of this, head buzzing. "I, I did not think of this, while I should have." Listen. Listen. When a girl's only ever blown a dick or straight up let a dude nut inside her, she hasn't faced a problem like this before.
He could LICK it off of her. She squirms. How SINFUL. "Let, ahh, the water. Run water quickly!" She sets to unlacing the corset behind herself with appropriate superhuman agility.
Precisely another one of those thoughts that must belong solely to Hyde. It enters his mind to lick it off -- but that's definitely wrong. To consume something like that...! ...But he already has. Is it better or worse if it's his own? Still, that was Hyde too, Jekyll isn't a homosexual, licking it off her would be pretty gay, even with his tongue on her tit.
But before he knows it, cheeks burning, he leans forward and places his hands on her hips as he ducks to run his tongue along her jaw.
She misses a lace. Extraordinary in its own right, given her vampiric abilities. Undoing the ties on a corset should be child's play.
Paloma can't help it, he-- he's gone and done what seemed to her an impossibility. It looks that, at most, it was improbable. Her irises shrink, and after missing a second time, her fingers tug at the laces in a slower pace. He's not running the water, but Jekyll is ... cleaning up after himself. Just in a way that puts the fire back in her belly.
Even though his cheeks are still stained with tears and his eyes are bloodshot, for crying over giving in to base desires, Jekyll seems to be doing a fine job of setting it all aside. He shifts again to trail his tongue from her collar bone all the way up her neck, very sure to do a good job of cleaning up after himself. And then there's what went between her breasts...which naturally leads him to linger there. It isn't his fault he has to cup her titties. It's all in the name of cleaning them off.
The corset loosens and drops to make it easy for him to bury his face into her breasts. He's doing a vile thing. Surely the Bible has words for people who lick come off of a woman's tits, and no good Catholic girl would sit there and press against the back of his head in encouragement.
Or helpfully push out her chest, shoving away the unlaced corset. Paloma's Catholocism is the definition of decrepit.
Ah if he knew she was Catholic, that would make it all the worse. Dallying with the Catholics, terrible! His church of England spooge on her Catholic teats. A terrible mingling.
He pulls back finally when no more can be found, a flushed visage entirely. "May I...?" Take her into the other room, maybe? Rather than continue to sit on the floor... Not for anything crude! Just to go there!
His Catholic dalliance couldn't give less of a damn if he served the Devil. She's going to meet him one day, anyhow.
Oh, no! Already finished? "You may," she says, without a clue of what he's asking permission for. Whatever it is, it promises to be hideous and wonderful. If what they've done can speak for anything. Paloma still has that dazed, happy look, she's breathing heavily through her mouth despite her undead condition.
That's quite the proclamation. "...Are you certain? You've no idea what I meant to ask, it could be any number of terrible things!"
Is she prepared for just how gross he might be????? Actually, probably, yes. But actually it was innocent. Really!! REALLY. So he stands, on legs that are a little more wobbly than he expected.
"Oh," Paloma murmurs and avoids his eyes out of misplaced shyness. "I am so certain." As she follows his example, her palm cups and drags against the length of his cock in the time it takes her to stand up.
Innocent. Ha. Ha. Her hand falls away, but not before pressing the tip against his own self.
Shy and then very bold not a moment later... Something about that contrast sets him on fire, it's unexpected and exciting. By the time she stands, Jekyll's already taken Paloma's face in both hands to kiss her. Maybe they won't even make it to the other room, he seems pretty intent on pushing her against the wall for this kiss, at least.
Did someone say she needs bloomers? She doesn't need bloomers. Or his assistance in wiggling them down her hips only to abandon them in a loose bunch at the tops of her boots, neve breaking their wolfish kissing for a moment. She could drown, and be happy ...
She'll look like a fool trying to walk. Luckily, that's not the plan. He's poking her in the belly, however, and there is another place she'd prefer he get to. Her mouth slides off of his, letting him breathe. "We can stay. We can."
Her stockings' fabric rustles pleasingly in their glide down his side, hooking behind just so in suggestion, in pleading.
How can he possibly stop now, even to carry on in the bedroom proper? Her leg around his is enough to clinch it once and for all, for him to use all his weenie strength to hoist her up high enough to pin her there with his hips. He keeps a grip on one thigh to hold it against his side, fingers pressing into her flesh. It's allbtok intoxicating to remember to care, for any semblance of decency or shame. Not a fragment of what was just there a moment ago, save for the stains on his cheeks and burst blood vessels in his eyes.
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moritat2015-08-17 04:59 pm
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Having to clarify, he can't really decide which he meant by it still. He feels badly for her having to put up with this. It's one thing when he cries with some one night stand or prostitute, he can just leave, or they're being paid so it's fine to ride it out.
"...You may." It can't get any worse, he's already disgusting! Might as well finish the job. Fingers twist in her hair and the strings tying her corset together. He isn't about to stop clinging, though.
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"I am happy to. But you are not happy, love. We do not need to."
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"Please forgive me." Does he mean for crying and interrupting her, or for wanting sex in the first place? The answer is both, and that's why he can't look her in the eye.
Just get rid of this trash.
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And still she smiles, hoping to show the good will he hasn't impugned. Certainly they are a mess, and have made a mess, but that's all this is. A mess they can work on. "Nothing needs my forgiving. Ah ... we should, ahh, dress?"
Lord, her bloomers will smell strange under the heaviness of those skirts. Paloma picks at the wet slit of it absently.
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His own hands still want to seek her out in some way, any at all. Those moments of being comforted and looked after have spoiled him. Paloma isn't warm, and yet she is. There's also the matter of his blueballs, and at least having some intimacy might help to ease that off... Maybe. It's better than not, anyway.
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Holding him again comes as a natural instinct. She latches on torso to torso, where she can tuck under his chin and he can cry it out without somebody staring. As for his neglected dingus... it gets squeezed between their bodies. So, temporarily forgotten, but there is a resolution.
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"I am sorry, truly. For everything. You deserve much better, always! I came to apologise, and yet I need to do so yet again..." Of course, he's such a weenie that he keeps crying all the while.
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Her eyes lower from maidenly guilt at the obscenity of that thought. "But it was lovely. You are lovely. Kind, too." She really ought to be kind to him as well. Ladylike little fingers seek out what dangles from his trousers and encircle it.
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But he wouldn't even be able to get his pants back on if that obscene hardon stayed, so how can he protest the help. It's appropriate really, it's all the more pathetic and like him to be sitting on the floor of a washroom, crying while being jerked off. His fingers find her hair again, though this time to stroke rather than violently tangle up within it.
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Paloma forgets caution about where the mess will end up. With his dick trapped between them, and her curled over it ...
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He's grateful for the servants having left, so he doesn't have to worry about the low moan that escapes his lips. Or when it escalates to something with more volume, as he arches his hips closer, breath caught in his throat between the sobs and climax. ...But he also forget their positioning, until the moment it's over, and he suddenly recalls, her clothes. All at once he pulls away to look down at her, mouth agape.
"Ah-!! Oh no!"
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"Sssh ... umm," she says blankly. A flush is in her cheeks that could never be there but for the blood magic's false life. "Ummm."
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It's kind of a turn on. Even after he's just spent himself. But no he can't think that way, that's all Hyde, not him, Jekyll would never! Obviously!
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Paloma flexes out her fingers and tries to think of the best way out of this, head buzzing. "I, I did not think of this, while I should have." Listen. Listen. When a girl's only ever blown a dick or straight up let a dude nut inside her, she hasn't faced a problem like this before.
He could LICK it off of her. She squirms. How SINFUL. "Let, ahh, the water. Run water quickly!" She sets to unlacing the corset behind herself with appropriate superhuman agility.
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But before he knows it, cheeks burning, he leans forward and places his hands on her hips as he ducks to run his tongue along her jaw.
we get it jekyll you only JO with heterobros
Paloma can't help it, he-- he's gone and done what seemed to her an impossibility. It looks that, at most, it was improbable. Her irises shrink, and after missing a second time, her fingers tug at the laces in a slower pace. He's not running the water, but Jekyll is ... cleaning up after himself. Just in a way that puts the fire back in her belly.
No gay stuff
What, he isn't getting himself hard again, no way
I bet he's gotten with hot chicks recently
Or helpfully push out her chest, shoving away the unlaced corset. Paloma's Catholocism is the definition of decrepit.
He has!!!! As recently as right now
He pulls back finally when no more can be found, a flushed visage entirely. "May I...?" Take her into the other room, maybe? Rather than continue to sit on the floor... Not for anything crude! Just to go there!
"""""SPOOGE"""""
Oh, no! Already finished? "You may," she says, without a clue of what he's asking permission for. Whatever it is, it promises to be hideous and wonderful. If what they've done can speak for anything. Paloma still has that dazed, happy look, she's breathing heavily through her mouth despite her undead condition.
it's my favourite word
Is she prepared for just how gross he might be????? Actually, probably, yes. But actually it was innocent. Really!! REALLY. So he stands, on legs that are a little more wobbly than he expected.
YOU MADE IT MY MOST HATED!!!!
Innocent. Ha. Ha. Her hand falls away, but not before pressing the tip against his own self.
it's a pretty disgusting word tbh
i wrote it on your valentines card
She'll look like a fool trying to walk. Luckily, that's not the plan. He's poking her in the belly, however, and there is another place she'd prefer he get to. Her mouth slides off of his, letting him breathe. "We can stay. We can."
Her stockings' fabric rustles pleasingly in their glide down his side, hooking behind just so in suggestion, in pleading.
so romantic
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