Jekyll and Hyde one-shot
It had been three weeks since Henry Jekyll had miraculously recovered from a 'fatal' stab wound and been discharged from St. Mary's hospital. He had originally been admitted to St. Jude's but after several deafening arguments, the nurses and doctor had agreed to move him, with the greatest of caution as matter of course. Now safely settled back in his father's home, Henry had, had time to mull over everything that had happened while the stiches settled. Truth be told, he was quite sure they weren't necessary anymore. The wound hadn't bled since the day it was inflicted and the skin around it barely showed any redness or swelling. Cook's herbal tea was keeping any pain to a minimum and, already, Henry had reacquainted himself with his refurbished laboratory. Every note on the case of Mr Hyde had been hastily shoved into a leather binding and thrown onto the top-most shelf out of reach of curious hands. The guests from the wedding had been plied with a cover story, as had all of the London newspapers, putting a hasty end to all suspicions tying the name of Hyde to that of Dr Jekyll or Miss Carew. Regrettably she was now to remain Miss Carew until she persuaded Sir Danvers to allow their union once more, a task which was proving more difficult than it had the first time. He refused to even see Jekyll or Mr Utterson for the first week or so after the wedding disaster, keeping to his study and declining his daughter's entreaties to see them.
Henry sighed and slumped back into his chair, before the roaring fire. Poole had kept him well supplied with brandy and letter paper for fear the doctor would over exert himself and try to run his own errands round the busy streets of London. Keeping occupied during the day was not difficult, but the evenings and nights were an entirely different matter. Faces, screams and vile urges crept upon him in any dull moment. The faces gruesomely contorted and twisted in pain swam before his closed eyelids; the faces of Hyde's poor victims. True, very few of them were any loss to the world but Jekyll's good conscience was plagued by the haunting images, their screams rang in his ears when the household retired to bed and silence fell. Lucy's face kept him awake at night, her gorgeous cheeks drained of colour, her beautiful, brown eyes lifeless and dull. He flinched at the memory and, rising from the chair, began to pace across the worn rug. His crimson robe swirled about him, a kind of velveteen waterfall, the colour shimmering across its surface. Alert to any sound from his Master, Poole knocked on the door and called through,
"Doctor Jekyll? Is there something you need Sir?"
"No Poole, thank you," Henry called back, turning his head away from the door, "I'm just a little restless this evening. I might take a short stroll around the square. The air will do me good no doubt."
"Indeed Sir. You will require your overcoat will you not Sir?" replied the Butler, a note of reluctance in his croaky voice. Henry silently cursed himself for his oversight. Of course he would need his overcoat. Hell! He would need to get dressed before going anywhere. He wore only his linen shirt, his black trousers and the dressing gown. Curse the old man's dratted thoughtfulness! Jekyll took a deep breath, closing his eyes and blocking out the raging feelings washing over him. Ever since he and Hyde had been reunited as one entity he had been acutely aware of a good number of unwelcome impulses seizing control at the slightest irritation. Every little thing made him furious, from a misplaced quill to a speck of dust on the mantelpiece, and he had gotten dangerously close to striking his long suffering Butler for pointing out his change in temper. Poole entered the study and crossed to the wardrobe, taking out a jacket, cloak, socks and well-polished boots, and walked slowly over to where his master stood, having freed himself of the dressing gown.
The crisp night air was delightfully refreshing after so long in doors, and wrapped up against the bitter wind, Henry felt some of his guilt melt away with his cabin fever. After all, everyone had forgotten, no one suspected a thing, he was still alive and the menace was gone for good. London played home to one less maniac thanks to his actions. True, it was all his fault, but the resulting breakthrough in his research was enough to convince him that humanity was best left as a mix of its own qualities: good and bad. Separating them had proven disastrous. He shuddered at the thought and pushed it from his mind as he approached a small group of women huddled around a fire pit on the corner of Hyde Park. The eldest looked about twenty, the youngest looked barely thirteen. All of them looked hungry, cold and desperate; their ragged dresses hanging off their bony frames. Tearing his eyes away, the doctor hurried on past fearing what offers of favours may be sent his way in exchange for money or food. Alas, it was too late. The beast had awoken within him and a stirring around his groin reminded him of his delayed, possibly cancelled, engagement. Oh yes, he had denied himself for so long, remaining a pure, chaste gentleman waiting for the night he would seal his marriage to Emma. But, ever since his victory over Hyde, his hormones had begun raging at the sight of a woman. Any woman. Groaning in frustration, he retraced his steps past the huddle, who were now eyeing him suspiciously, heading in the direction of the red rat. Ever since Lucy's death Gwynnie, the Madame of the establishment, had worked her other girls over time to make up for lost profits. Henry simply couldn't help his sympathetic nature, so he had become a popular customer for the girls who rarely felt a gentle touch from anyone but him.
He was slightly shocked when he arrived. His last visit had only been two days ago but the exterior looked totally different. The door sign was now broken, the wood splintered down the middle and a brown-ish stain on the sharp fragments confirmed how this had happened. Gritting his teeth and wrinkling his nose against the inevitable smell, Henry pushed the door open and stepped into the bustling room. The piano music assaulted his ears with a series of discordant music hall tunes and the stench of the unwashed made his eyes water. He turned up his collar to deflect a few curious glances from the nearby tables and went in search of Gwynnie, who appeared from behind the bar as if on cue. Without waiting for a request, she hurried him away to his usual room, with the lavender wall paper, above the stairs and bustled off to find a girl for him. She knew better than to keep him waiting when anyone could recognise him downstairs, and returned promptly, leading a shy looking blonde by the hand.
"Henry, my dear, I don't believe you've met our newest girl Arianna. She's a little shy so we thought, who better to introduce her to the pleasures of gentlemen than yourself," She smiled falsely and backed out of the room with a cheery, "have fun Doctor," and closed the door behind her. The petite girl stood silent and trembling, no doubt awaiting his instructions for the night, and shied away when he raised his hand to stroke her cheek. He paused patiently, then tried again, only this time he lifted her chin so she could meet his eyes.
"I know you probably don't wish to do this with me, heaven knows I always regret it too, but if I ask for someone to replace you Spyder will take his belt to you without a thought. I don't want any more harm to come to you." He tried to put on a commanding voice, but his words were painfully true. Whether she wanted him or not wasn't of any importance to Gwynnie. Failing to please him cost her a night's charge and that was all that mattered. The girl, Arianna, made no reply. She just stared up at him vacantly, as if she didn't really notice what was happening. Sighing, he led her to the bed, sat her down and removed his cloak, draping it over the chair by the door. She lowered her gaze as he walked back and knelt down in front of her, but looked back up when he took her hands in his and gently laid a kiss across both sets of knuckles. He could tell she hadn't expected such a romantic gesture, but something inside of him refused to just use her and go. He almost wanted to protect the poor child, for she couldn't have been older than sixteen. Rising to his feet, he led the girl up with him and ran a hand down the back of her head, twining it into her silky curls. She tensed uncertainly then relaxed into his embrace as he pulled her to his chest, praying he wouldn't be aroused by her willing intimacy. A brief glance down calmed his worries, and he continued stroking her hair, unconsciously letting his other hand follow a similar pattern over her lower back. She shuddered in his arms and he hesitantly pulled her away, fearful that he could have hurt her. Crystalline tears were running down her cheeks, making the blue of her eyes glimmer brightly. By God, she looked radiant when she let her guard down!
"Please, I'm sorry sir. Don't let me stop you, it's nothing." She stammered. Henry frowned as he caught the terror under the pleading in her voice. She was afraid he would punish her, for being upset and afraid of him punishing her? Curious.
"No, Arianna." He paused. "That is your name isn't it?" She nodded. "You've done nothing wrong, do you hear?" Another feeble nod. "I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable that's all. My pleasure isn't the only thing I seek here. How old are you?" She looked startled by his question and he wondered inwardly if she knew how to count at all. She recovered and hastily blurted out,
"Sixteen sir."
"Don't call me that, please, call me anything else. My name is Henry Jekyll. I am a doctor, so you have more than enough titles to address me by but don't call me sir. It's what my servants have to call me, and I would never allow a child like you among them." A faint smile creased his mouth and she beamed at him, her eyes practically glowing in the poor candlelight.
"Well, then, Mister…Doctor Jekyll. What would you like from me this evening?" A blush crept into her cheeks and turned her face a brighter pink, which inflamed his desire once again. His breathing grew shallow as he pulled her closer and bent to kiss her upon her forehead. Both closed their eyes and as he pulled away he heard a faint sigh escape her, but before she could speak again, his mouth captured hers, fervently claiming her with a deep kiss. She moaned into his mouth, to which he responded with a throaty growl, running his hands to the ties of her dress. Pushing the jacket from his shoulders, she soothingly caressed his broad shoulders and tight chest muscles, eliciting another growl from deep within his lungs. As she freed him of the jacket, he relieved her of her dress, leaving her lace undergarments displayed to him. Feeling suddenly exposed, she broke their kiss and hung her head waiting for him to give her an instruction of some sort. The other girls had said that some men want to undress you, to make it more fun for them, while others are impatient and want to rid yourself of the many layers quickly. She jumped as she felt herself being lifted from the ground but giggled as he carried her back onto the bed, laying her down gently on the rough blanket. She had served a few customers before, but none had made her feel so…wanted. She could practically feel him burning through his clothes as his now apparent arousal strained against his trousers. Following her gaze down, he blushed, just as she had, and now it was her turn to guide him closer, pulling him down over her and parting her lips to kiss him once more. She almost tore his shirt open, struggling to feel even closer to him as his bulge brushed against her abdomen, causing him to screw his eyes shut and moan quietly. Feeling bold, she lightly traced her hand down the firm, rippling muscles of his stomach, through the light smattering of hair below his navel, and into the waistband of his trousers, seeking out his heated length in its fabric casing. His hissing intake of breath told her she'd found what she was looking for and, without removing him from his clothing, she began to run her hand along him, closing her fingers around the hard flesh. The lines around his eyes deepened as his hips jerked in reaction to her caresses, and she moved her hand a little faster.
"Oh God in heaven help me. Feelings this good could only be sinful," he moaned, burying his face in her hair and inhaling sharply. She smiled against his neck and scattered kisses along it between his ear and jaw. "Please…God…harder," he begged, which she happily obeyed.
"Do you like this Doctor," she teased, flicking her thumb over his tip and spreading the bead of moisture that had formed there. He jerked again, whimpering in response.
"Arianna…I'm going to…You're going to make me…" he gasped and convulsed as his orgasm took control, sending spasms of pleasure shooting through his body. She slowed her hand and smiled down at him as he collapsed and rolled beneath her.
"There, there Henry," she murmured softly, brushing a stray hair out of his eyes, "Doesn't that feel better now?"
"Dear Lord," he breathed, still shaking from the aftermath of his climax, "That was like nothing I've ever felt before! What on God's earth did you do to me Arianna?" His breathing grew more even, and his heartbeat started to return to a normal rate as she rained kisses on his cheeks, and neck and ears, waiting for him to recover.
"It must have been some time since your last encounter Henry," She whispered into his ear, "I barely even got to touch you." He felt his face redden. The girl was right, of course. He had been far too quick to please for a man of his age, and his last time had only been two days before.
"You really are new here aren't you," he quipped, hoping she wouldn't question his lack of an answer. She smirked, and leant down over him, brushing his bared chest with the lace of her bodice. His eyes twitched and she was fairly sure she could feel him growing harder again. Grinning devilishly, he tossed her off himself and swung his leg over, into a straddling position on top of her. He copied her action, leaning down and rubbing himself against her growling, "Are you sure you know what you're getting into?"
"I dread to think Doctor," she giggled flirtatiously but somewhere within, him her words struck a nerve. His face fell and he sat back onto his knees tugging her hands until she sat up and moved to sit beside him.
"Yes, I suppose you do, don't you?" he muttered sadly, moving to get up. Almost instinctively, Arianna rushed to grab his arm and hold him close to her, but she released him when she saw the sad look in his eyes. Realisation dawned as he fumbled around in his pockets looking for his wallet. Nervously, she rose and started dressing herself hoping he wouldn't report her 'off-putting' to Gwynnie or Spyder, but she held her tongue as he handed her a small envelope, only muttering a quick thanks before he rushed out of the door and was gone. Turning the envelope over, she noticed it hadn't been sealed and curiosity overcame her. Inside was a note which read: 'Dear lady, please accept this as repayment for my behaviour, though I know not what depravity may overcome me. Take from it what is normally given to Gwynnie, but don't tell her about the rest. I have enclosed my business card should you need assistance at any time in the future. Please know also, that should any unfortunate incident occur, you will always be welcome in my home if you have need of food or shelter. Once again, I beg your pardon for any injury, offence or inconvenience I have caused you, and I pray God will bless you with his grace. Sincerely, Henry Jekyll.' Setting the letter aside, she glanced at the card, and almost fell off the bed at the sight of the sheaf of banknotes nestled nest to it. There was at least fifty pounds in there! Smiling to herself, she dutifully removed one note and stuffed the rest into her boot. Perhaps she might go and visit him one day and repay his generosity.