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The first time Hyde and Lanyon fuck, it has nothing to do with attraction. They’re both sick of Jekyll’s shit, but they love him and agree to try and get along. After one of Hyde’s wild nights on the town, he slipped into Lanyon’s room. It’ was hours after midnight, the time they had agreed on, but he didn’t care.
Lanyon, steeped in propriety as he was, started out by kissing Hyde. It was cautious, gentle, everything Hyde thought of as boring about foreplay. Boring enough to make him scream, and not in the fun way. He twisted his fingers through Lanyon’s hair and yanked his head back for easy access to his throat. The pain earned him an affronted gasp, which was surprisingly hot. Hyde sank his fangs into soft skin, biting hard enough to draw blood, then kissed the marks in a violent parody of Lanyon’s earlier gestures. He worked his way down the other man’s body, tearing through clothes when they got in his way.
It’s deliciously sinful, and he loves it. The choked moan he drew out when he flicked his tongue across Lanyon’s cock definitely made the top ten list of “Hyde’s Favorite Sex Noises He Has Caused”, which was impressive considering he hadn’t even gotten to the main event. Hyde pulled Lanyon down to the floor to prep him, but stopped when his attempt to shove his thighs apart is met with resistance.
“You okay?” He asked, looking up at Lanyon’s expression of mixed fear and arousal.
“Yes. I’m-, I’m completely fine. Just fine.” He reached out to rest his hands on Hyde’s shoulders, pulling him in for another kiss. This time, there was nothing innocent about it. Lanyon bit down hard on Hyde’s lip, making him yelp in surprise. He took the opportunity to reverse their positions, pinning Hyde to the floor and slipping a knee between his legs. The unexpected streak of dominance was exhilarating, and Hyde wanted to see how far it might go. He rubbed up against Lanyon, hoping to entice him to move.
“God, you’re hot like this. The whole snobbish jerk thing was getting old, but I’ll still call you Master if you can make me scream,” he purred, writhing under the piercing gaze fixed on him. “Or Sir, If that’s more your speed.”
Lanyon startled, blushing at the insinuation, but paused to look closer at Hyde.
“You look different. What kind of mysterious power has the Spirit of London at Night been hiding this whole time?” He tilted Hyde’s chin up to scrutinize the changing bone structure, the darkening hair, until he froze in shock at the sight of Henry Jekyll splayed out under him.