moritat | Victorian weenie au

"Do they not? We seem to have Jekyll in common." Although they certainly won't be seeing eachother at one of his gatherings for more than one reason. "Perhaps supper, or else a show - the opera?"

He's immeasurably talented at sidetracking her. Paloma knows she must have heard him correctly, so she doesn't gape and go begging your pardon please say again?

"You believe a husband would not care if we appear together, at a show?" she says at last.

"It depends upon how jealous the husband may be. I would see no cause, can two people not enjoy a performance together?" He knows how it would look. But he's also hoping she doesn't. If it ruins her reputation, fine. He has no reputation to be lost and wouldn't care anyway.

Automatically, "It is not good if he sees my eyes wander."

Then she remembers: the damage to her reputation can be undone with a few direct conversations, continued use of vampiric influence, and most of all, it means nothing. What has she to lose? Carlos possesses the entirety of her life.

Paloma's jaw sets stubbornly, and in the dark she turns to Hyde. "Yet I have not seen many shows. My gratitude for your company."

"Then what better opportunity. Or better company for myself?" He takes her hand to kiss it. "You have my deepest appreciation for honouring me with your agreement."

"We shall be students in society, us two," she relates quietly. The clatter of hooves outside sound off, unbroken and ongoing. Letting her hand stay held, she notes the uncertain thrill that comes with it-- and the spike of revulsion. The duality of Edward Hyde is the strangest case.

"What better way to learn?" He smiles, covering her hand fully with his other. Then, in a low voice, he speaks up again after a pause. "...I know you are taken but I must confess I find you incredibly enchanting."

Paloma mirrors the sincerity of his smile.

"Pretty words."

Enough. It doesn't matter, it doesn't change a thing, everything stays the same whenever their driver rolls into the street outside their destination and she goes back to Hell. Reading the base undercurrent of his flirtation, she acts, and kisses Hyde directly.

Ah, there's a fine start. He could grin to himself except that he's too busy returning her kiss, with quite some enthusiasm. At first he tries to keep up some amount of appearances, but that isn't his purpose, he is the lack of restraint.

But breaking off, he excuses himself for it. "Forgive me- I cannot imagine how any man would control himself around you." So much bullshit.

In the beginning she's detached enough to stand outside themselves and watch, but underestimating his intensity is her first problem. Paloma's quite dismayed to discover her hair mussed, the hat and veil on the cab floor, fingers a-tangle in Hyde's collar and lapel, and her fangs just itching to say hello.

Because it's so dark, the huge black of her pupils may slip past notice. She does not breathe. "Dios te salve, Maria."

Her reaction is all the more sweet. So is seeing the disorder they've caused so quickly. He'd like to see more, to ruin her hairstyle entirely and maybe for other articles to join the veil on the floor. He can't help himself, Hyde kisses her again - how can he not, he remembers sleeping with her, weeks gone by, but fresh in the memory. And whether or not he can have it, that's what he wants again, he'll get as close to it as he possibly can.

The man's a barbarian. Savage. And although in her heart Paloma wishes to be precious and treasured, she also wishes to be free in her savageness and ferocity. That desire for freedom recognizes kindred in Hyde more than she is ready to acknowledge.

He cannot know the danger or strength in the hand clapped to his cheek for something to hold onto-- besides her seat, which at any moment she worries will disappear from underneath herself if this keeps on. "Sir," she tries at the next break, "Sir, Mr. Hhhyde," oh good God.

He doesn't want to stop, and he very nearly doesn't, he very nearly forgets can't go on without permission, for his own safety. That this is someone who matters to some extent in society, and knows his other half. His hands have begun to stray, moving down her waist. But finally he does halt, even if he doesn't pull away. "Yes?" He has to wait for an answer before going at it again...but that doesn't mean he can't find his way to her neck in the meantime.

Paloma's fangs slide out of their sheath with a small wet sound only her ears will pick up. Her quick inhale is audible.

"Mr. Hyde," she strains to enunciate clearly at the cab ceiling, doing the opposite of pushing him away; he'd found a pleasant spot to be and one of her dangerous hands helps guide him higher, beneath the edge of her jawline. "This is unwell, for you."

"Is it? It seems very well, to me..." She is dangerously close to allowing him, and so he ventures to place a hand on her thigh. Over the fabric, as much as he'd like to slip under her skirts.

Her teeth are closing in and he cannot even begin to realize the threat they pose. Paloma's lips brush over his ear on their slow and inexorable path to his throat.

The cab floor rocks on a difficult street, but she's not to be dislodged. Very soon, Hyde won't know anything. "The driver is taking me home."

"Yes, of course he is...", he breathes, that doesnt matter, he wants her and Hyde is not someone to be deterred. "Shall I ask for a detour?"

Finally, finally, her mouth finds his throat. Paloma noses past his thoroughly rumpled collar and, oddly, the breath against Hyde runs cooler.

"No."

There's no pain. Not a prick, not a heartbeat where sinking into him comes with excruciating agony before the Kiss banishes thought and paralyzes the man who thinks her a toy.

He goes limp against her suddenly, a shiver running through him. Ecstasy more than anything else, if any feeling can be assigned to it at all. And it is awfully rare that he should be still and silent, putty in the hands of another. His head droops, leaning against Paloma's. In such a tranquil state, his features retain their youthful innocence, without the vile ripple underneath, he could seem a child.

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..."

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