Enemies With Benefits
Notes: This guilty pleasure fic could be a stand alone or considered a sequel to Sometimes I Punish Him. It has no redeeming value and is utterly void of taste, therefore smutville. It is not beta'd so apologies for my many errors, including my lapse in morality.
Warnings: Just as before this can be construed as nonconsensual sex but it would never hold up in court.
Tom swims against the dark currents of his subconscious, finally surfacing to discover he's lying flat on his back on a bathroom floor, his bathroom at the flat, thank heavens. The bright light flickers above him, a surrogate Morse code warning that Hyde remains near. It happens sometimes, the beast refusing to pass the torch, so to speak. Before Tom chances movement, he inventories his body for injuries. There isn't pain but a rather familiar discomfort, an unbearable tightness in his gut as well as more intimate bits which makes the confines of his jeans stifling.
"What a fantastic evening," the sardonic tone intrudes within his thoughts. "A 'Dear diary' event for sure. You should've been there, Daddy."
Tom finds it difficult to swallow, instantly sickened by the familiar tang of blood turned paste along his teeth and tongue, left dried and cracked at the corners of his mouth. He sits up to discover Hyde's thug inspired fashions bear similar evidence of the sadism he'd come to expect from his darker half. It was a miserable but necessary routine to spend his morning hours browsing the news for Hyde's misdeeds and the possibility of a body count. Until then, Tom would spend another sleepless night pondering whether he could go through with his threat to turn himself in if Hyde crossed that unspeakable line and actually killed someone. He prays he'll never have to find out.
"Don't bother breaking out the rule book, I didn't kill anyone. Not yet, anyway. Just dinner and a show… not in that order."
Hyde's glee turned Tom's stomach. It was all part of the twisted game and again, Tom was in no mood to play.
"Got interrupted before we sealed the deal, though. Left me a bit… restless. Bet you feel it, Daddy, that down low rumblin' and I'm not talkin' food. We've eaten, by the way."
Tom wasn't sure what bothers him more; his lack of concern for whose bodily fluids stain his torso or the prospect of what delicacy Hyde had dined on. Unfounded as it was, it seemed to help Tom cope if he could justify Hyde's violent tendencies by painting the victims as comparable predators, willing participants even. They were all just as much uncivilized elements of society as their attacker. It somehow dulled the guilt and was the only way Tom could face himself in the mirror. And with his usual veil of indifference securely in place, he rises to his feet to find Hyde waiting for him in the reflection, casually leaning back against the bathroom wall, arms crossed before him, wearing the same blood stained clothes and a smile beaming with pride. Tom allows himself a quick glimpse of the wicked jester before focusing in on his own pathetic image.
"What do you think, quite the mess, eh? You should see the other guy." Hyde's smile stretches dreadfully wide, the tip of his tongue peeking playfully between his jagged teeth. "Best wash up before Poppins get's wise. You know how Supernanny is when you come home all filthy, you naughty boy, you."
Tom doesn't respond, doesn't accept Hyde is actually there. It's merely a visual deception of a confused psyche, the desperate misfires of a falsely rewired mind.
"Going with the silent treatment?" Hyde dismisses the lack of response with a shrug. "Works for me."
Tom peels off the sodden shirt and tosses it aside. It's a struggle to release the top button of the jeans which strain under his huskier midriff. With some effort, he manages to wiggle free of the restricting fabric and kicks it aside in frustrated triumph. No wonder the jeans had felt like sandpaper, Hyde's predilection against wearing underwear was right in line with his torturous knack for leaving Tom in uncomfortable situations.
"Getting a bit doughy in the middle, Daddy. Letting yourself go, are you? Now there's a thought… letting yourself go. You ought to do that."
Tom pulls back the shower curtain and steps inside, cringing with the chorus of pops and cracks from his protesting body.
"Bloody wreck, you are. Need an oil can to get you moving tin man?"
With a twist of the cross handled valve, a cold rain trickles along his agitated frame. Mercifully, the icy spray reduces his unwanted arousal. Soon, the cool gives way to warm and then turns to a steaming shower working away the burgundy caked along his chest. Tom dips his head under the water and shuts his eyes only to pay reluctant witness to visions of violence flooding forth. It awakens something primal within him and though he wants nothing more than to excuse the guilty thrill as aftereffects of Hyde, he knows better. The boundary separating them is waning with each passing day and every transformation eats away at his humanity. In desperation to escape, he snaps open his eyes and lets his head fall back, welcoming the cascading droplets along his neck and the soothing, dreamy mist filling the small space.
"Still won't talk?" Hyde sounds closer and Tom's pulse hastens with the realization. "Doesn't matter 'cause I'm not here for conversation."
Tom's body stiffens with the faint sensation of broad hands curving along his waist. The touch sends a spark up his spine and he fights off the urge to recoil. It's only an illusion borne of stress and the dementia of the transition, he reassures himself, though uncertain which is worse, the delusion or reality. He repeats the thought 'It's not happening' like an internal mantra, willing Hyde to fade along with the nightmare memories he stirs in his wake. Tom realizes such mental defenses are useless as the once vaporous fingers seem to solidify with purpose, continuing around to slowly rake through the glistening wet nest of curls trailing down to his reactive groin.
He knows its madness, it has to be. How else could he explain the impossible heat he feels at his backside as an undeniably masculine body flattens against his? He shivers with the unsettling touch of an erection filling the crease of his buttocks and can't deny Hyde's presence anymore.
"Leave me alone," Tom growls, cursing his body's betrayal as his cock twitches with expectation.
"Not listening on account of you not talking to me," Hyde purrs and Tom could swear he feels breath tickle his ear.
Hyde's fingers venture further south, teasing the trunk of Tom's erection with a promising massage.
"Why all the fuss? You know this is just what you need, some quality bonding time, you and me in a body built for two."
Tom labors to steady his breath and finds the unending stream of water breaking on his face only hinders his efforts. He pivots awkwardly until the shower pelts his back, rinsing away the echoes of Hyde's body along his. He opens his eyes to the black gaze of his seducer.
"You've had your fun now go away," Tom requests in a calm tone, refusing to give Hyde the satisfaction of knowing how much he affected him. Though Tom tries otherwise, his eyes stray to catch a glimpse of Hyde standing there nude before him, his lean, toned body inching ever closer, determined.
"But there's always more fun to be had. Imagine what I can do, Daddy. I know what you like. I've been there." Hyde slicks his tongue slowly across his lips and Tom is suddenly aware he can't find his voice, can barely manage to breathe.
"You can't get me out of your mind and it's driving you mad, isn't it?" Hyde leans in, so close, so torturously tempting. "But there are benefits to sharing."
Plump lips press lightly to trace the bend of Tom's tensing jaw. He tries to object but the words choke uselessly on his tongue as Hyde's mouth claims his. Surprisingly, the kiss is kind, gentle lips pampering him with intriguing offerings, in stark contrast to the attack Tom feared from his tormenter. Hyde's uncharacteristic tenderness wears down Tom's will until he feels it washing away with the red tinted flow swirling around the drain. Somehow Tom managed to retreat a step and sucks in a sharp breath before forcing out the feeble command, "Hyde, don't."
"Oooh, I like the sound of that. Say it again." Hyde pursues him, stealing back the meager inches Tom had put between them.
"Come on, Daddy, once more. Let me hear it."
Firm fingers curl around to choke Tom's cock in a possessive grip. He gasps as the hold gives way to determined strokes, milking him into an aching hardness.
"Fuck," Tom winces, flushing with need and the self loathing that comes with it.
"Patience, Daddy. You know getting there is half the fun."
Tom can't mute the moans that come with the mounting strain for release.
"Doctor Jackman, are you alright?" Katherine's voice claws at his ears like nails down a chalk board, calling for him from beyond the door.
"Fine," his voice cracks pitifully. "Be out in a moment."
"Don't think so." Hyde's brows arch artfully as he glances down to assess his progress and grins. "On second thought…"
"Stop this," Tom demands much too unconvincingly.
"But I've only just started."
Defiant to the last, Hyde sinks down upon his knees, never ceasing to churn Tom's length in the motion. It's a surreal contradiction, the curious innocence creasing Hyde's devilish brows as desire burns in the onyx pools below, begging recognition.
"Go on, Daddy, say my name." He persuades a reply with a lick, a touch as subtle as a breeze but enslaving nonetheless.
"Close enough." Deadly lips band tightly around Tom's girth, slowly drawing him in. As Hyde begins to suckle sweetly, Tom is all but lost to the beast's insatiable appetite.
"Are you sure you're alright?" Katherine's voice grates on his nerves, interrupting the bliss that is Hyde's masterful mouth.
"I'm fii…ine. Just… just please leave."
"Maybe I should…"
"Leave now, Katherine!"
Hyde pulls back with a chuckle and Tom feels unforgivably abandoned.
"Well done, Daddy. Didn't know you had it in you."
"Finish this," Tom demands furiously, his hands curling to fists at his sides.
"What do you say?" Hyde's disciplinary tone is as depraved as his smile, feeding Tom's quest for release, for peace.
"Please," he whispers desperately and sees it's not enough, never enough and adds, "… Hyde."
A villainous grin curls the very edges of Hyde's lips. "Good Daddy."
At last Hyde wraps Tom within his generous embrace again, taking him in to even greater depths. The slick, textured channel of his tongue draws beautifully along Tom's sensitized cock. Much too soon Tom needs more and begins to rock, matching the strokes, fucking Hyde's mouth in a glorious rhythm. Hyde encourages him, gently massaging along Tom's scrotum, his adventurous fingers testing further recesses and plotting for next time. And Tom knows there will be a next time. Hyde will never leave him alone, not as long as he has his play toy.
"So close," Tom hisses. His legs threaten to buckle under the dizzying euphoria and he reaches out to brace one hand on the tiled wall as the other grasps pointlessly at the flimsy curtain.
"Damn… you… Hyde." Useless curses transform into broken syllables as Tom's release draws near. Then every word is Hyde, every whisper, every groan, every cry is in praise of Hyde and his brilliant mouth. Tom throws his head back and sobs as his orgasm seizes him. The shower curtain pops a few rungs under his thoughtless grasp and he spills within the camouflage of the downpour, emptied and breathless, altogether embarrassed and sated. When the trailing tremors die away, Tom gathers strength enough to open his eyes and finds his own hand grasping his diminishing erection. Hyde stands feet away outside the shower, fully dressed with not so much a hint of being an accomplice to the carnal scene a moment before. His head is cocked aside, feigning empathy with a sliver of a smile.
"That's better, now, isn't it?"
"I hate you," Tom seethes, ragged breaths spitting droplets as they drizzle along his lips.
"Why make things so hard, Daddy? It doesn't have to be. Unless that's the way you want it, of course."
Hyde purses his lips in a kiss and evaporates within the fog of the bathroom.
Tom turns his face into the water in hopes to drown within the cleansing stream.