moritat | Victorian weenie au

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.

Edited 2016-01-14 13:06 (UTC)

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.

Delighted with the turnout, she squeaks, not minding the open vulnerability of this new position in the slightest. And it IS new. Many may have years of experience in sexual wizardry under their belt, but much of it remains new and exciting for Paloma. Her other leg hikes up and over, clamps so that he may feel free to explore.

He especially excites her, makes her feel fresh and maidenly even doing acts that forbid her claim to being any kind of maiden. She can't stop touching him; throat, shoulders, chest, until her hands splay out against his navel. "Please, Harry."

It isn't that he's tried this before!! ...Well, alright, maybe he has...on one of those shameful nights. Or as Hyde. Clearly those don't count. It takes a careful maneuver to guide himself into her, even with her help with keeping herself in place, but he's desperate and determined.

He knows it can't be called anything like 'making love' if ever 'fucking' was an appropriate term, it's now. But still, for all that his randy moaning in her ear and carelessly smacking her into the wall are base, Jekyll would like to think there's still something romantic about it. Romance isn't strictly vanilla, right?

A motley crew of men and women idling away their time downstairs try to ignore the voices and rhythmic thudding coming from Miss Vasquez's quarters. A younger maid keeps giggling, even though her senior continually shushes her. The wise butler who'd given Dr. Jekyll such a hassle mutters, "Her physician."

Paloma ain't doing a whole lot to keep their noise down. When she doesn't sound as though he's hurting her -- he most assuredly is not -- she babbles and begs in another language.

Sometimes she curses him, calls him cruel for not fucking faster or more roughly.

Lost for words, what can he say but repetitions of her name, of love, and senseless noise. His heart beats too fast, knees too weak from the excitement of it all to be safe in this position. But he takes every plea and curse to heart. She deserves whatever she wants...and who is Jekyll to deny any of it anyway, it's not as if he minds going at it like a jackrabbit in heat. Go big or go home, what's the point in sinning just a little, make it worthwhile.

But he's a pathetic man, he can't keep it up forever, as much as he might like to. It's impressive he didn't come immediately, really!! His grip on Paloma's thigh and hip tighten as he presses himself closer still, pushing as deep as he possibly can.

Sploosh.

Did you think this could be a serious tag all the way through, nah

This is so much better than the time he emptied his balls into her in that filthy pub. Her wallpaper's WAY cleaner.

He's in luck tonight. Hypersensitive from coming just minutes ago, she's not long in topping over the edge before his last hurrah; Paloma shouts indecipherably and locks her whole body up. The difference is the size of him, the rabbit-in-heat pace and force he manages, bless him, it's nothing like the helping hand before. She is altogether too noisy and the bang from her head hitting the wall cannot make it better.

She sort of hangs there, limp, only kept up by his grip and. Well. That dick.

As much as he'd like to stay exactly where they are, that isn't about to happen, his muscles won't allow it after that escapade.

But he can lock lips and set her back down carefully. And with her hand in his, give a little tug to come along and lie down. In a proper place. Wouldn't it be nice to curl up together on the bed? The rough needs to be tempered with tenderness, and he doesn't want the closeness to end yet either.

Feeling like an actual goddamned treasure and that nothing about tonight could ever, ever be wrong of them, she curls around his neck first for a deep kiss. Slower than what they've had. Paloma relishes the stinging between her thighs while it lasts, too.

Her bloomers slip the rest of the way down her boots before they get through the washroom door. She almost screams to see her bedroom door ajar, all this time. "Ah ... oh," she swallows. Wordless, she slips away from him to shut it ever so gently.

...Oh. His cheeks light up. At some point, he realises, he'd stopped paying mind to privacy. With the door open, if someone walked by the room they'd certainly have heard.

How can he know it's so much worse.

"A-aah. I hope that no one heard..." Or worse, poked their head in the door and saw.

No one nearby, blessing of blessings. She sags against the door and wishes she felt more shame than she does. That this spiraled from love and two people frantic for a means of expression makes it no less apparent she won't be marriageable. After those times she swore off bedding anyone until they had made and kept that promise!

But looking at him as he blushes, she can't be ashamed. Just warmed. "Yes. But we can lie here ..."

"Are you sure? Do you - do you want me to leave, if I do quickly and quietly, the servants might not know that anything ever happened!!" He doesn't say it because he wants to go, in fact that's the furthest thing from his mind. But if anything can make this situation better for her, he'll do it.

"Oh please do not! Please do not think it is easy when you have gone."

Not the lonely living with more servants than a fledgling knows what's to be done with. Damn Carlos. Damn the vanity of maintaining a house she'd as soon as burn to the ground than expose another soul to living with its memories. She hugs herself. "I missed you."

If that's the case, he's sorry he even mentioned it. She shouldn't have to hug herself, his arms should be around her instead, and within no more than a moment, they are. "So have I. I...wanted to apologise for how long it has been."

And now maybe he should also be apologising for coming back this way.

Victorian weenie au

I bet he's gotten with hot chicks recently

He has!!!! As recently as right now

"""""SPOOGE"""""

it's my favourite word

YOU MADE IT MY MOST HATED!!!!

it's a pretty disgusting word tbh

i wrote it on your valentines card

so romantic

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