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“That boy is obsessed with you in such an unhealthy way, Tish,” Larissa frowned as she smoothed down the soft fabric of the dress she held against her broad frame. She turned to the side while glancing at herself in the mirror, her soft blue eyes tracing the outline of her silhouette. Any ounce of confidence she had that evening in feeling beautiful for the Rave’N had completely evaporated. “Have you changed your mind on telling the sheriff? I don’t want Garrett harming you somehow.”
Morticia, sitting at her desk, dragged a pencil eyeliner along her waterline, but paused when her roommate spoke. She turned her body to face her, back straight, shoulders squared. Through the mirror, the two locked eyes and Larissa’s heart swelled furiously—it was the confidence she was missing, surely she knew, but Morticia’s eyes were sultry, intoxicating. She forgot how to breathe when they were on her.
“It’s twisted, it’s carnal, it’s repulsive. I love it. Let me have my fun, my sweet Larissa,” Morticia crooned. Her voice was like velvet—alluring, somehow always sickeningly sweet with a mesmerizing tone. Larissa would not doubt it should Morticia ever reveal herself to be a siren.
Morticia batted her dark lashes, pairing it with a playful pout, then added, “That dress will look beautiful on you.”
Larissa had nearly forgotten she was holding it against her body. She fought the sudden urge to expel what little she’d eaten that day, swallowing the bile that built in her throat and blinking back the way the room spun at a fast rate. Her stature never failed to be an insecurity, and that evening as she got ready for the Rave’N, she felt even larger than usual. She resented how broad her shoulders were, how wide her ribcage was, how her legs seemed to go on and on. Other girls—girls like Morticia—were thin, petite, beautiful. Larissa Weems was a prominent outcast amongst outcasts.
“I don’t think it’s endearing. It’s one thing to play a fun little game of cat and mouse, of mutual pining, but you don’t want him, Morticia. You’re dating Gomez,” she finally mustered after bottling her emotions. Her skin glowed pink from the racing insecurities running through her head, but still, she tried her hardest to maintain conversation. She tossed her dress down on the back of the chair her roommate sat in, hanger and all, and turned her body completely to face Morticia. “He’s stalking you.”
“I love a little harmless stalking,” Morticia responded. She uncapped her lip pencil and began to trace the outline of her Cupid’s bow.
No matter how many times Larissa persistently tried to force air into her lungs, her ribcage did not expand properly. She took in shattered breaths, her chest aching from the way she could not take in air. Morticia lined her bottom lip next, leaving Larissa completely enamored with the meticulous nature of applying lipstick.
“Do you want me to do your makeup, darling? You’ve been staring long enough,” Morticia added as she capped the liner and traded it for a tube of lipstick. Larissa swallowed hard and blinked a few times to reorient herself to reality. Part of her did not hear Morticia, as she was fantasizing about whether her black cherry lips, too, would taste like cherries. “Rissa? Makeup?”
“Oh—um yes, please,” Larissa stammered. The blackened red was the only pop of color Morticia dared to incorporate into her style. Larissa was obsessed, her eyes fixed on the pout on her face and only glancing up into her eyes once spoken to. She wanted her to kiss every inch of her large body, marking it with red stains that even Gomez would see and know Morticia belonged to her. “How, um—where do you want me to sit?”
“You could just lay on your bed.” Morticia finished applying the lipstick and rubbed her lips together, letting them part in an audible pop before smiling sweetly. Still, Larissa stood there unmoving in her pajamas with her hair down. She was no longer poised. “Are you going to pin your hair up, or leave it down?”
“I haven’t decided,” Larissa stated. Anxiously, as if she were afraid of doing it wrong somehow, she climbed onto her bed and laid down on her back with her head propped up on a pillow. She exhaled deeply, the hem of her shirt rising and exposing some skin. She tugged it down quickly. “Is this fine? I know I’m tall, so I don’t—”
“My sweet Rissa, it’s more than fine,” Morticia crooned. Larissa stared at the ceiling, her eyes tracing the architecture as a grounding tool. She tried hard to regulate her heart rate and breathing so that she did not become a sweaty, nervous mess around Morticia being so close.
The sound of rummaging reached her ears. Glancing over to where her roommate was sitting at her desk, Larissa saw Morticia gathering different pieces of makeup from her pouch. Though, Larissa wore simple makeup, and her heart sank at the sight of black eyeshadow.
“Oh, don’t give me that look, darling. I’m not doing my goth glam on you. I just think a tame, more toned down smoky eye would make your striking blue eyes pop,” she explained. Morticia approached Larissa’s bedside with a small black eyeshadow, a few makeup brushes, mascara, and some lipstick. Instead of pulling up a chair as Larissa expected, her roommate set her makeup down on her duvet and climbed on top of her. Pale thighs rested on either side of Larissa, the mounds of Morticia's ass rested comfortably on her hips. Heat surged through Larissa, her face growing hot and her palms becoming slick with sweat. Her lungs seemed paralyzed as Morticia tucked her hair behind her ears and reached for the black eyeshadow.
“Morticia, there’s a chair over—”
“This is much easier, Rissa. Don’t you fret,” Morticia interrupted as she leaned down. Her lithe finger brushed wispy hair out of Larissa’s face and traced the curve of her strong cheekbone with her manicured nail. Larissa dared not breathe as the corners of Morticia’s mouth upturned into a smile. “You will look beautiful when I’m done, though I admit you are always beautiful. Stunning, even. Alluring. Ethereal.”
Larissa did not know what to say. She remained quiet, eyes closed, as Morticia tapped the brush into the eyeshadow and leaned down. She gripped securely at the base of Larissa’s jaw with her left hand, and her right hand packed the shadow onto the outer area of Larissa’s eye and blended it out skillfully. Larissa struggled to keep them closed, her lids fluttering every so often, merely wanting to stare into the dark chocolate eyes of her roommate. Morticia bit her lip when she concentrated, a mannerism Larissa had undoubtedly fallen in love with, and she was desperate to see it.
“You are the perfect canvas,” Morticia whispered. She sounded closer than Larissa anticipated, her sweet breath warming her face as she tenderly blended the makeup out. She mirrored it on the other eye, jerking Larissa’s face by her jaw every so often when she needed her to change positions. Larissa grew giddy, her pulse racing, with the feel of Morticia’s thumb and forefinger pressed just along the pulse of her throat. She leaned down to Larissa’s ear. “So divine.”
Larissa could not speak. Her voice was caught in her throat, lips parted slightly as if she were intending to respond, but still, not a sound emerged from her body. She swallowed hard, eyes fluttering open, and found Morticia exchanging the eyeshadow for mascara.
“Ah, ah,” Morticia clicked her tongue, her hand resuming its grip on her jaw. “Look at me, mon coeur. I’m not done with you.”
Larissa obeyed, the simple use of French causing a certain warmth between her thighs to form. She held her breath as Morticia coated her blonde lashes in black mascara. Concentrating on not blinking was difficult. Larissa found her eyes watering as Morticia swiped the black wand along her lashes, painting the tops and then the bottoms with the black makeup. Her lashes, almost translucent while bare, disappeared amongst the subtle black smokey eye Morticia had given her. Morticia pinched Larissa’s chin with her forefinger and thumb and tilted her attention to her in order to admire her work.
“I think a bolder red lip would pair nicely,” Morticia crooned. She reached for the tube, twisting the bottom until the classic blue-red color emerged from the top. Larissa held her breath as Morticia skillfully swiped at her bottom lip with the product, mentally tracing the path of Morticia’s strokes: the path along her Cupid’s bow, the remainder of her top lip, the fullness of her bottom lip, all the way to the corners of her mouth. Morticia smiled when she was done and capped the tube. “Beautiful.”
“I’m sure the makeup looks beautiful,” Larissa whispered, her voice somewhat hoarse. She swallowed hard and cleared her throat. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not quite sure what you’re apologizing for,” Morticia admitted smoothly. She leaned forward so that her knees were pressed into her roommate’s side, her index finger traced along her jawline, and her lips rested just behind her ear. She pressed a tender kiss—just one, at the hollow near her jaw—long enough for the lingering sensation to elicit goosebumps on Larissa’s entire body and make her question absolutely everything between them. “You, sweet Larissa, are so beautiful.”
Morticia's voice consumed Larissa. It liquified, becoming one with the blood in her veins, surging, filling her until she was giddy with warmth and she was more than certain she was sopping wet in her sleep shorts. Another kiss was placed on the pulse of her throat, and this time, Larissa arched herself into it and let out the softest, sweetest moan.
“You are not a delicate woman,” Morticia purred as she brushed the tip of her nose over Larissa’s jaw. “Your moans shouldn’t be so quiet or dainty. Let me hear you, mon coeur.”
As Morticia sat up to look at Larissa again, Larissa followed, propping her back up against the headboard as she tucked Morticia’s dark hair behind her ears, as if seeing her face clearly, free of black tresses, was her only consolation. She could not speak, she could not do anything except for obey. Morticia, adoring Larissa’s reactions, leaned in and kissed her.
Larissa was taken aback, having absolutely zero idea of what to do in the situation. Over the years, she’d read tons of cheesy romance books—werewolf romances, vampire romances, hell, even ones about normies. All of the female love interests were petite, dainty, all like Morticia and none like Larissa. She was certain that she was not meant for love, not meant for sexual experience, and that she should not view herself as a sexual being. But here Morticia was, tongue parting Larissa’s lips, swirling around her tongue, grinding her ass against her lap.
With all the first kisses Larissa read, the passion and sudden ability to know what to do should have surfaced. A natural urge should have taken over her body but she had no idea what she was doing. She felt silly, stupid even, returning every kiss Morticia Frump placed on her now-rouged lips. But this wasn’t a romance book. Larissa had no experience.
Morticia, on the other hand, had kissed many boys. Namely, Gomez Addams who would waiting for her at the Rave’N later that evening. But Morticia did not care. She cupped Larissa’s face in her hands, deepening the kiss, further grinding her hips down on her for some sweet friction. Eventually, timid hands rested on Morticia’s hips, thumbs stroking her hipbone as she returned the kiss. Larissa’s tongue slid over Morticia’s and warmth flooded both women. Their bodies turned a slight tint of pink as Larissa broke the kiss.
“Morticia, what about Gomez—”
“Forget about Gomez,” Morticia murmured dismissively. She leaned in to kiss her again, but Larissa pulled her face back. Their lipstick was smeared around the corners of their mouths.
“I can’t really forget about him, or Garrett, or any other boy who’s fancied you,” Larissa retorted. Her blue eyes, normally filled with warmth, grew bitter. Her expression darkened, chin quivering as she suppressed memories of Morticia crying over boys in her lap. How broken she was. How Larissa knew she'd never make Morticia cry the way they all had.
“Now, now, sweet Rissa, what is this darkness within you?” Morticia hummed sweetly as she swiped her thumb at the smeared lipstick at the corners of Larissa’s mouth. “Where is my darling shapeshifter, filled with such brightness? The light to my shadow?”
Larissa resented Gomez for stealing Morticia, but in that moment, he could not have her. Morticia was Larissa’s, and so she kissed her—hard. It was intended to shut Morticia up mostly, Larissa not wanting to listen to her speak in poems and metaphors when all she’d been craving was the taste of her lips. For years, she’d dreamt of it. And now, they were eighteen, their last year at Nevermore, and this was her chance. Even if in the morning, Morticia would run off to Gomez, and she'd continue to revel in the fight for her between Garrett and Gomez, Larissa would have her for that night. That night before the Rave’N—their last Rave’N.
Morticia’s fingers slid beneath Larissa’s shirt, tugging it over her head swiftly to reveal a cream colored satin bra. Her mouth closed in on Larissa’s newly exposed collarbone, tongue swirling and teeth dragging across soft skin. Larissa could not contain the needy moan that resonated in the back of her throat even if she tried. Her eyes rolled back as Morticia ravished her, ruining the very proper, poised demeanor that Larissa kept up so effortlessly. Morticia kissed up to her throat, grinning to herself when Larissa gripped deadly onto her ribcage with her large hands.
“Can I take your bra off?” Morticia whispered once she’d kissed up to Larissa’s ear.
“Yes, please,” Larissa managed through shattered breaths. “Tish, I need you.”
“So desperate, mon coeur. Where is your patience?” Morticia unclasped Larissa’s bra painstakingly slow and let the garment fall before tossing it to the floor. She followed it up by kissing the valley between Larissa’s small breasts, adjusting her own body between her legs as she kissed further down, and down, and down, until she reached the waistband of her sleep shorts. She paused, her thumb stroking the skin just above the waistband. “Is this okay?”
Larissa responded to Morticia’s touch by lacing her fingers through her hair, sighing as she arched her body into each tender kiss. “Yes. God, yes.”
Morticia tugged on Larissa’s sleep shorts as Larissa lifted her hips, allowing her roommate to shimmy them down her thighs and slip them off her ankles. Larissa’s face turned a darker hue than before, resenting the vulnerability that surfaced in being naked and exposed beneath the woman she’d pined after for years. Her head relaxed against the pillow, eyes fluttering shut, but her legs remained stiff. Morticia pressed a lingering kiss to Larissa’s clit in response and sucked lightly. Larissa sighed softly and sunk further into the mattress, melting, liquifying at the pleasure that surged through her. Her knees fell to the sides, and Morticia took her new relaxation as initiative to pull Larissa’s legs over her shoulders.
“You’re sopping wet,” Morticia teased. She trailed the tip of her index finger through the soaked blonde curls at the apex of Larissa’s thighs, spreading her arousal thickly. “And so soon? Oh, my darling, I’ve barely even touched you…”
Larissa’s thighs twitched at the subtle touch, muscles convulsing, and hips writhing against her dainty hand. She was desperate for friction, desperate to feel her delicious touch on her heated skin, sticky with sweat. Morticia laughed at her dire need for her lithe fingers, her skillful tongue. Her tone was haunting, almost divine sounding, as she inserted a slender finger inside Larissa and curled the first knuckle expertly, stroking her G-spot with such precision that Larissa’s vision blurred. The shapeshifter’s back arched, an impression of her ribs protruding from her pale flesh as a needy moan escaped her throat. The ache that formed in her core was all-consuming, a fervent throbbing in her swollen clit being the unspoken evidence of how desperately she needed Morticia. Larissa was certain that if her hunger was not satiated, she’d die—as dramatic as that sounded.
“Fuck,” Larissa hummed, a solid bead of sweat dripping down her brow bone. Not used to hearing such profanities from her roommate’s mouth, Morticia raised a brow, a devilish grin setting in at the corners of her soft lips. Once more, her head descended, her mouth closing around Larissa’s swollen clit and offering a few adroit sucks, the pressure even. “Oh, fuck, Morticia. Please. Please, darling, more.”
Morticia glanced up at Larissa, craving the view of how her breasts rose and fell with every second of ravished panting and the sight of her blue eyes murky with lust. Larissa still gazed at the ceiling with her vision unfocused as Morticia dragged her flattened tongue up and over her vulva. She torturously drew out her pleasure in a calculated, tormented movement before flicking her tongue sideways over her clit, enjoying how Larissa writhed against her mouth, how her hips ground up against the motion of her tongue. She loved Larissa’s deprived whimpering as she swirled her tongue around her clit, the sound as sweet of a melody as any song she’d heard her carry. Electricity surged up the shapeshifter’s spine as Morticia’s talented fingers continued to stroke her G-spot. Her name rolled off Larissa’s tongue like an unearthly prayer and sweetened like she was summoning a deity. She exhaled deeply and her entire body jerked.
“Tish,” Larissa croaked, her voice raspy as she tried to breathe. “Tish, I want…”
Morticia raised her head as she caught her breath, her lungs burning from the lack of air she’d gotten. She pressed a tender kiss to the inside of Larissa’s thigh, leaving a stamp of her lipstick on her creamy flesh. “Use your words, mon coeur. What do you want?”
“I want you to get undressed, too,” the shapeshifter confided as she sat up on her elbows. She gazed down at the psychic, blue eyes half-lidded, body coated in sticky sweat. “And I want to… taste you.”
That was far too polite of a phrase for Morticia’s liking—taste you. Morticia did not want her to taste—no, Morticia wanted Larissa to ravish her. She wanted to fuck her face. She copied her roommate, sitting up on her elbows and letting Larissa’s long legs fall from her shoulders. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “You want to eat me out, Larissa?”
Larissa pressed her lips together and cringed at the use of bold phrasing, but liked how derogatory it sounded. She nodded, reaching a large hand up to run her bony fingers through her long platinum hair.
“I’ve never let anyone do that before,” Morticia admitted softly as she sat up on her knees to pull her black nightgown over her head. The black silk garment fell to the floor, revealing her pale breasts and lace black panties. Larissa’s heart rate picked up in pace, the throbbing in her core intensifying. Her eyes admired her frame, from the cinched point of her waist, to the flare of her large chest, even the dip that curved along where her hips met her thighs. Morticia was everything Larissa had dreamed about.
“And I’ve never given it, but I want to see your eyes roll back into your head and watch the pleasure wash over your pretty face when you come,” Larissa professed without thinking, her cheeks turning red. She had absolutely no idea where that comment had come from, but it was the truth. She’d thought endlessly on how Morticia would sound while Larissa drank from her, slurping her arousal and circling her tongue over her clit until she came undone.
A darkness set in Morticia’s features as she cupped Larissa’s jaw in her palms and kissed her fiercely. The kiss was sloppy, their lipstick now disappeared until nothing but blotchy pink stains around their mouths as they succumbed to their desires. Larissa tried her hardest to copy everything Morticia had done earlier, her tongue grazing both her bottom lip and her tongue as she deepened the kiss to be more primal, carnal—frenzied. Morticia loved manic fun.
Morticia moaned deeply into her mouth, the melody of it a low purr, sweet, alluring. She reached for one of Larissa’s large hands and shoved it into her panties as she broke the kiss. “Stop being such a proper lady and touch me, Larissa.”
Larissa’s cheeks darkened, somehow flushing an even more saturated shade of pink, but nevertheless obliged to the goth psychic who kneeled before her. She stroked Morticia’s swollen clit with her thumb delicately, far too pleased with herself when Morticia anchored herself to Larissa. Her knees buckled and her thighs trembled, her moans raw and her vision blurred. Larissa switched to encircling her clit instead, taking advantage of how Morticia’s head rolled back against her shoulders and exposed the pale column of her throat. Her mouth closed around her pulse to pair—kissing, sucking, biting.
“Oh, fuck, there you go. Good girl, Larissa,” Morticia gasped as she ground her hips against her roommate’s touch. “Take them off. Please, mon coeur. Touch me, kiss me, fuck me, ravage me.”
“Do I strike you as a sadist?” Larissa asked, her free hand rolling Morticia’s black panties down her ivory thighs. Morticia maneuvered each leg so that she could kick them off her ankle, letting out a dark laugh. “Is that a funny idea, Tish?”
“No,” Morticia answered as she returned her gaze to meet her roommate’s. Her eyes were glossed over with lust, a primal urge evident in the pupils of her eye and glistening deviously. “No, mon coeur, you strike me as a submissive, devoted, attentive… emotionally tortured lover. And you know how much I love a tortured soul.”
Larissa raised an eyebrow, a breathy scoff seeping from her lips, swollen from the kiss she shared with Morticia. She countered Morticia’s teasing comment by inserting a finger into her—slow, only to the second knuckle, just enough to distract her and throw her off her domme pedestal. The dark haired psychic hummed her disapproval, clamping down on Larissa’s finger as she lurched forward and clutched onto her shoulders.
“What were you saying about me being submissive, Morticia? I could pin you to this bed and watch you writhe,” Larissa growled. Morticia laughed, her voice taking on a bewitching aura, and her hand grasped onto the base of her roommate’s throat. Larissa tensed, blue eyes widening. Her pulse quickened and she withdrew her fingers from her roommate.
“And you’d do it because you’re devoted to me, mon coeur. A faithful, ardent slave. You’d do absolutely anything I asked of you solely for the purpose of pleasing me, of serving me,” Morticia countered through shattered breaths. Larissa avoided eye contact, her gaze anywhere but on the dark haired seductress. Morticia jerked her face up. “Lay back on the bed, Larissa. If you’re eating me out, it’s going to be on my terms. How well can you hold your breath?”
“I assure you, breathing is the least of my concerns,” Larissa admitted breathlessly. Morticia grinned wickedly as she pushed the shapeshifter by her chest so she was laying back on the thick duvet. Blonde curls sprawled over her pillow, chest rising and falling rapidly as Morticia crawled forward on her knees until she was hovering over Larissa’s mouth with her legs on either side of her skull. She sunk down slowly, pressing her full weight down onto Larissa’s face.
Larissa’s tongue parted Morticia’s labia hungrily and her nose brushed her dark curls. She further spread her arousal with the length of her tongue as the salty sweetness of her core slid down her throat. It was intoxicating the way she tasted—musky and sweet, almost like fermented honey. Larissa knew if she had the chance, she would become addicted to this, to the taste of Morticia Frump. Her tongue devoured her roommate and her arms hooked up around her thighs, pulling her closer so that there was no room for comfort, no room for breathing. Larissa could get used to this feeling, she realized. She could grow comfortable with Morticia grinding her sweet cunt on her face, grow used to the high of having no air, her head pounding and lungs burning in protest. She loved it.
Morticia rode out her pleasure sloppily. She ground her hips hard, clit sliding back from Larissa’s tongue to her nose, not caring enough to be gentle. Larissa groaned beneath her, her manicured nails digging red marks into Morticia’s creamy thighs as she ravished her, consumed every inch of her. It was pure ecstasy, Morticia thought, riding Larissa’s face like that. It was a newfound obsession, the way she dipped her tongue inside of her, mouth wide open to let her ride her tongue. Morticia wondered to herself why she had never let Gomez do this to her, as she was almost certain he’d do anything to please her, but the thought was distressing—confusing. Lithe fingers tangled through thick blonde hair, controlling her pleasure as a way of controlling her difficult emotions, and controlling the way Larissa was fully devoted to her in that moment. Morticia did not get on her knees easily, and yet she was there, kneeling above Larissa as she ate her out.
“Larissa,” Morticia whimpered, the simple name rolling off her lips breathlessly, repeatedly—worshipping her as if she were praying to Lilith herself. Her head rolled back against her sweat-slicked shoulders, brows furrowed in concentration. “Larissa, I’m going to—”
Stomach growing tight, Morticia’s muscles tensed one final time before utmost pleasure surged through it. It wasn’t like anything she’d experienced with Gomez—no, it was more intense. It rocked her to the point her body threatened to buckle completely, her thighs quivering and toes curling. She anchored herself to the headboard for support, and the second her sweat-slicked palms came in contact with the iron bars, a vision overcame her. Her head rolled forward, her shoulders dropping, as she leaned her whole weight into the headboard. Her eyes rolled back into her head.
“I’ve loved you for as long as I’ve known you,” Larissa hissed bitterly, her nose scrunched and rouged cheeks flooded with glistening tears. She straightened her posture and squared her shoulders, suppressing her emotions, knowing her mother would not be proud of how unhinged she was. For also being an outcast, Larissa’s mother was prejudiced for anything remotely abnormal. Brash emotions, she told Larissa, were for werewolves.
Morticia could not respond. It was like she was frozen in place, mouth sewn shut, as Larissa spewed her unfiltered thoughts at her. The shapeshifter breathed in sharply and lowered her voice to a whisper, adding in heartbreak, “I loved you, Morticia—unconditionally. We’ve talked about boys, we’ve talked about our home lives, we’ve talked about the future and what we wish to happen. I’ve poured my heart out to you. Everything about who I am, you know. We had sex. And you’re still going to run back to Gomez Addams? You know, Morticia, I don’t have to get off on the idea of fighting anyone who looks in your direction to prove how devoted I am, how devoted I’ve been, to you. I really tried to make this work, but you just keep discarding me. I don’t think it’s in my best interest if we remain friends any longer. We graduate in a month, and after that, I don’t want further contact with you. Until then, I’ll remain amicable for the sake of our living arrangement.”
Morticia’s orgasm was powerful, pulling her out of her vision just as fast as her pleasure triggered it. She bit down harshly on her lip to silence herself, grinding on Larissa’s face until she’d ridden the high in its entirety. The shapeshifter continued to swirl her tongue and sucking on Morticia’s clit until she wasn’t able to anymore.
The psychic’s heart ached. She learned early on not to trust her visions, to take them with a grain of salt, but that one was intense. Her visions were emotionally driven and more often than not unreliable—that’s what her ancestor had taught her. Larissa had not given her any reason to believe she would abandon her, so why should she believe it? Surely, Morticia had never discarded Larissa, made her feel less-than. Still, tears welled in her eyes at the thought of her life without Larissa, the heartache so terrible, bile built in her throat and nausea tugged at her insides. She blinked back the tears, forced back the thoughts, and focused on the present—Larissa was there with her, she was her best friend, and they were having sex that Morticia was rather into.
Larissa heaved to take deep breaths, her face red and eyes glossed over as Morticia climbed off her. She sat up on her elbows, blonde hair a mess on top of her head. and her makeup completely smeared by bodily fluids—sweat and otherwise. Morticia leaned down to kiss her hard, sliding her tongue along Larissa’s to taste herself, her body relaxing at the evidence of her existence.
“I want to try something,” Morticia purred sweetly against Larissa’s lips. She stroked the shapeshifter’s cheek with the back of her hand, knuckle swiping sweat glistening on her flushed skin. “I want you to see stars when you come, mon coeur. How do you feel about scissoring? I’m not just fond of the sharp kind.”
Larissa was still out of breath, but nodded at the idea. It wasn’t as if she’d prior experience, and the way her clit throbbed and ached for Morticia’s touch was becoming too much. She would never admit it to Morticia, but she’d fantasized about scissoring her—how delicious it would feel, the friction, the wetness, the surging pleasure. When she laid there at night, when Morticia slept soundly, her hands would slip into her shorts and she’d touch herself to the very idea. How could she say no then?
Morticia smiled and parted her roommate’s knees once more before settling herself between them. She tilted her hips slightly, positioning one of her legs behind Larissa’s knee and the other over her opposite shoulder. She moved much closer until their vulvas touched, heat flooding them, and after a few minor adjustments and the subtle brush of their clits along one another, Larissa moaned and her head rolled back.
“Fuck,” Larissa sighed. Her thighs quivered, her shoulders slouched inward as pleasure jolted through her core. She forced herself to take a deep breath, though it shook. “Morticia, I need you. Please. Please.”
“I know you do, darling. I’m going to make that ache go away, okay?” Morticia responded sweetly, her voice taking on almost sickening tone. She lay slightly lower than Larissa, supported on her elbows, with her body still trembling from her orgasm. “I want you to grind on me, mon coeur. Use me. Take what you need to feel good.”
There was a brief moment of hesitation. Larissa’s lack of experience haunted her, and not in a way Morticia would tell her to be a good haunting. She lifted her hips once, gyrating slowly against Morticia, their vulvas rubbing together deliciously. Their bodies were entangled, Larissa’s long legs spread on either side of her roommate. It was like a calm washed over her, a release, the way the friction between their clits felt. It was a completely different sensation than Morticia’s mouth, completely different than her own fingers, or even a pillow. The sensation was wet, sloppy, the motion more desperate. Larissa fucked harder, grinding her hips faster, dipping down against Morticia for utmost pressure. She was a whimpering mess, the strength in her upper body supporting herself fading fast, but she refused to relent.
The friction began to fade, the wetness between the two women becoming too much. Larissa, not normally an impatient woman, grew more frustrated as the sensation faded. She had behaved so nicely for Morticia, made her come so hard she could not support herself, she followed every lead Morticia offered, and still—she couldn’t get off properly. She shifted her hips again, finding the sweet spot of their position, and a visceral moan escaped her throat. She rode against Morticia hard and fast.
“Yes,” Larissa moaned. “Oh, yes, yes, yes. Tish, I-I…”
A guttural sound erupted from her, her blue eyes fogging and unfocusing as her entire body trembled. Her lips parted slightly, her breathing labored, as she used the last of her strength to prolong her orgasm. Larissa wanted it to last forever, for the little bubble she created with Morticia to be more than a moment of passion together. She could not bear the thought of it ending, of them cleaning themselves up, of them attending the Rave’N like nothing happened between the two of them. That would shatter her heart, Larissa realized.
As Larissa came down from her high, panting and wiping beads of sweat from her brow bone, her eyes found Morticia’s. She seemed tired, almost drained in a way she’d never seen her before. Larissa spent countless nights comforting Morticia about the cruelty of boys, their shallow tastes in women, and she’d seen Morticia erupt in cries so distressing she, too, resorted to fits of tears—none of those nights compared to how empty Morticia looked.
“Morticia,” Larissa whispered softly as she reached down to stroke the curve of her cheekbone. Morticia leaned into it, the weight of her head rested in Larissa’s palm. It was soothing how cool her hands were, even while sweaty after their endeavors. “I’m going to get a towel to clean you up. Relax for a moment, darling.”
Larissa readjusted Morticia so that she was sitting at the edge of the bed. The dark haired psychic struggled to catch her breath, her emotions thrown completely for a spin. With her roommate busy rummaging through her belongings for a towel, it left ample time to let her guard down. Sex was overwhelming, she knew that, but she’d never experienced a vision while caught up in such intense, fervent emotion. It didn’t make sense.
“Alright, Tish,” Larissa hummed sweetly as she sunk to her knees before her. She tucked blonde hair behind her ears and folded the towel. “Are you okay? Can I get you anything?”
Before Morticia could even respond, Larissa was wiping her thighs clean, her free hand rested on the soft skin of her outer thigh and stroking it with her thumb. As if on cue, the psychic slumped and her eyes rolled in the back of her head. Larissa flinched at the sudden change in Morticia, but began to tend to her as she normally would when she was overcome with a vision.
“Do you know how difficult it is to just be friends with the person you’re madly in love with?” Larissa seethed, her tone spiteful. She heaved shattered breaths, her body completely tense. “Do you know how difficult it is to watch the one person you want to spend the rest of your life with return to her stupid fucking boyfriend? Right after she spent hours kissing you, wandering your body, making you see stars, make you feel wanted for a little while? You don’t, Morticia. But that’s what you did to me. You fucked me, you got ready for the Rave’N, and you left. You took my virginity like it’s nothing and you’re back to regularly sleeping with him. You know how I feel about casual sex.”
There was a strong knock on the door. Larissa raised her brows in surprise and scoffed at the male voice that followed. “Tish, I know you’re in there.”
“Speaking of the lover boy,” Larissa sneered, opening the door swiftly. It swung open until the doorknob hit the wall, chipping the wood behind it slightly. Gomez was startled by the presence of the shapeshifter, offering a polite smile.
“Larissa, it’s always lovely to s—”
“Enough of the niceties, Gomez. Tell me, has Morticia told you that we’ve had sex? Me and your girlfriend. Kissing while she did my makeup, eating me out until I saw stars, and riding my face until she couldn’t walk and I couldn’t breathe. Has she told you that she speaks to me with the same tender care as she does you? You don’t seriously want to marry such a profane woman, now do you Gomez? Do you want a wife who manipulates you? Makes you feel special only to dump you when something she truly wants comes along?”
Morticia snapped out of the vision to find herself laying down on Larissa’s bed on her back, looking half-dead, a blanket covering her, and Larissa stroking her dark hair. Tears coated the psychic’s cheek in recalling the brutal truth Larissa had laid out to her in her vision, and though it was not reality, it stung as if it were such.
The shapeshifter wiped the stray tears away with the pad of her thumb, crooning her softly in empty promises. “Do you want to talk about this one, Tish? It seems like it’s taking a toll.”
Morticia turned her head to face Larissa, realizing that she had gotten dressed in the time the vision started until that moment. She pulled the blanket tighter around her still naked body, sniffling as she turned on her side and moved closer for comfort. Morticia inhaled the musky scent of sex on Larissa’s skin. “I don’t think I could ever bear it if you ended up resenting me, Larissa. I don’t ever mean to truly harm you.”
“Why would I hate you?” Larissa frowned. Delicately, she turned Morticia’s face up towards her and kissed her softly. Morticia returned it, perhaps a bit too longingly, pulling Larissa closer. When the kiss broke, the blonde added, “I’m here for you, Morticia. And needn’t I remind you, your—”
“—visions are based strictly in emotion, and they rarely are based in rational thought nor are they accurate representations of reality. I remember what my ancestor said, Rissa. I know. But this was different, somehow. My visions are normally positive—a dove—and this one seems… not positive.”
“Your visions, and visions in general, are subjective, my darling,” the shapeshifter reassured with an empathetic shrug. She took Morticia’s chin between her thumb and forefinger and dragged her thumb along her bottom lip. “Maybe, whatever was so distressing about this vision has to happen in order for there to be a more positive outcome ultimately.”
Bile built in Morticia’s throat—thick, unmoving, so urgent she believed she’d expel everything she’d eaten that day. Larissa leaving, however close or far out into the future that vision predicted, was a terrible fate that she’d never believed she’d need to endure. There was nothing positive that would emerge from losing her best friend. Morticia would become a shell of herself, and she knew that.
Though Larissa had seen Morticia’s tears many times, each time they resurfaced a part of her died. Her chest ached in seeing her face glisten with sadness, her chin quivering as she fought back sobs. She was melodramatic at her core, but always fought the displays of emotion—at least, the tears. Tears meant weakness, as Morticia had muttered once before. But the way Morticia sunk into Larissa’s warm embrace, inching closer so their legs were entangled and their hips were pressed together comfortably, was comforting. She anchored herself to her roommate, which to Larissa, spoke volumes as on the horrors of her vision.
“I don’t want it to sound like I’m not happy to be here in my bed with you, but it’s nearing eight o’clock and you did promise Gomez you would meet him in the courtyard at nine,” Larissa murmured sweetly into Morticia’s dark hair. She stroked the back of her head tenderly, fingers twirling her black tresses around her nimble fingers as she pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead. “We could also stay here if you’d like.”
“Larissa.” Morticia’s voice was almost a whine—and not the type Larissa had heard before. Fear was laced in her tone, or perhaps it was uncertainty. Either way, Larissa’s heart rate increased and her skin flushed warmer.
“Yes, Morticia?”
“I don’t think I’m into boys.”
There was a prolonged pause. Larissa pressed her lips together, uncertain what she was supposed to say in response to that. Of course, their evening had persuaded Larissa that Morticia was into girls, but there was a difference between supporting her best friend realizing she likes women and realizing she wasn’t into men. There was a certain sadness, a sorrow, a grief that Larissa, too, had experienced in realizing the fantasy of a prince charming she conceptualized as a little girl had been ripped away from her. She needed to mourn that dream just as Larissa had—or was trying to. Deep down, she’d known she was a lesbian for the longest time and not even the male validation she craved in asking Gomez to the Rave'N could persuade her otherwise. Having sex with Morticia Frump had merely solidified her identity, if anything, and she was beginning to believe that having sex had also been that reassurance for Morticia.
Larissa cleared her throat and tucked some of Morticia’s hair behind her ears. Her dark eyes were still glossy and consumed by exhaustion. “I don’t want you to think you can’t like boys and girls, Tish. You can enjoy what we’ve done and still love Gomez.”
“That’s precisely my point, Larissa,” Morticia protested. Her voice cracked in the middle of saying her roommate’s name, panic creeping up in her tone. It was anxiety producing to realize you’re a lesbian after society feeds you heteronormative bullshit—Larissa knew that. “There is nothing wrong with how Gomez treats me. Truly, he is perfect. But when he kisses me, I feel nothing. There is no spark, no electricity, nothing between us. I don’t feel it when I kiss anyone but you.”
“Be kinder to yourself, Tish,” Larissa soothed. She pulled Morticia in for a tight embrace, rubbing small circles into her upper back. Morticia’s tension released slowly with each pass of Larissa’s palm, and eventually, she took a deep breath. “I don’t believe in rushing yourself to come out to Gomez, but I do believe it’s imperative to tell him that you don’t want to be in a relationship with him sooner rather than later. He is deeply in love with you, and I do not want to see you consumed with guilt for harming him by staying with him longer than you would like to.”
Morticia nodded. Whether or not she came out while breaking up with Gomez was still undecided. She knew Larissa would recommend that she digest the realization before telling others, but Morticia wanted to get it over with. She wanted to put everything behind her, if not for anything except minimizing the chance that Larissa would leave her. Perhaps it was selfish of her, and a tad pathetic, that her reasoning in confessing her attraction to women would rely so heavily on a vision that was not guaranteed, but Morticia did not care. Larissa Weems held her heart. She inhabited her soul.
“I’m going to shower quickly and get ready again for the Rave’N,” Morticia teased with a sly grin. Larissa scoffed playfully and rolled her eyes, the contagious smile on Morticia’s face creeping onto Larissa’s. “When I’m done with Gomez, I really want us to go to the Rave’N, like it should have been in the first place. I want to dance with you.”
Larissa hummed her agreement, gently pushing wisps of Morticia’s hair out of her dark eyes. She seemed more content admitting who she was to herself, a peaceful energy existing between the two of them as they lounged in Larissa’s bed, and Larissa enjoyed it. The tension melted away.
Stealing a kiss, Morticia cupped Larissa’s face in her hands and sighed when Larissa returned it, her hands snaking up around her waist to pull her closer. “Mm, if this continues, Tish, you won’t even make it out the door.”
“Just one more.” Morticia pouted, pressing the softest, sweetest kiss to Larissa’s lips. Larissa returned it with meaning, the echos of her words causing her cheeks to heat up. Her face was flushed was the kiss broke, and her eyes fell to Morticia’s lips.
“Alright, darling. Get ready,” Larissa laughed. Morticia pouted playfully, disapproving of the decision deep down as the feeling of Larissa’s body pressed against hers was the comfort she knew she needed in beginning to comprehend her sexuality. She smiled stupidly as she climbed out of bed and gathered things for her shower.
It didn’t take long for both women to get ready this time around, though Larissa was still the last to finish up her look. They showered separately, washing off the stench of sex on their skin and the remnants of whatever makeup was left on their faces. Their hair was dried and styled accordingly—Morticia with her dark hair blowdried straight down her back, Larissa who blowdried her blonde waves and pinned them up neatly—and their makeup done to their liking. They did not speak a single word to each other until they changed into their dresses, not having the capability to multitask finishing touches with their conversation.
Morticia finished first. Her eyes remained on Larissa, tracing the silhouette of her nose to her Cupid’s bow, to the bottom lip and roundness of her chin. An unfamiliar fluttering sensation emanated from her core as she watched, migrating down to her limbs and succumbing to the derealization that struck her. Seeing Larissa dressed up for the Rave’N not only completely halted Morticia’s ability to breathe, but it further stood as a reminder that this was what loving someone was supposed to feel like—giddiness and excitement.
“Rissa, you look ethereal,” Morticia breathed as she stepped beside her, her head falling back against her shoulders as she glanced up at the shapeshifter. Larissa finished pinning back a section of her blonde hair, hairspraying some straggler hairs into place with a bobby pin between her teeth. She situated them before she turned her attention to Morticia.
“I could say the same thing about you, darling,” Larissa gushed as she peered down at the goth psychic. The sight caused Morticia’s heart to skip several beats, and it was in that moment that she knew this was the right decision. The furious heart rate did not relent when Larissa brushed Morticia’s hair out of her eyes and cupped her jaw in her hands to press the sweetest kiss to her lips. “Are you ready to go?”
“I don’t really want to hurt him,” Morticia admitted as she laced her lithe fingers between the longer ones of Larissa. The shapeshifter stroked the back of the psychic’s hand with the pad of her thumb in sweet circular strokes. Her blonde brows were knitted together as she contemplated what she was going to say. “What?”
“I don’t necessarily think Gomez would be harmed by the same things you believe,” Larissa countered honestly as she led Morticia to the door. She grabbed the knob and turned, allowing her entrance to the corridor. “It’ll certainly sting, yes—breakups are hardly ever painless, my darling. But… as much as I do not like to admit his better qualities out loud, Gomez would not be hurt by the fact you’re into women. I don’t think he is capable of holding that against you, or anyone else for that matter.”
Morticia took a deep breath, her ribcage expanding comfortably at the subtle reassurance. Larissa led her through the dimly lit corridors of Ophelia Hall, navigating the barren maze of poorly illuminated stone walls. They walked in silence, hand in hand, while Morticia processed exactly what she was going to say to him. Completely understanding the extent of her anxieties, Larissa did not press her to speak further, only offer a tender squeeze of her hand for reassurance. It was only when Morticia’s face flushed pink beneath her borderline white concealer and how her palms grew slick with sweat in Larissa’s that she began to truly comprehend the severe anxieties that plagued her in ending her relationship with Gomez.
“I can’t do it,” Morticia barely choked out. Bile built in her throat at the idea of confronting Gomez on such a serious matter. Larissa soothed her by once again tracing tender circles on the back of her hand.
“You can’t do what, Tish?”
Both Larissa and Morticia pulled their hands back in unison, Larissa instantly wiping her palm on her coat to rid it of the sweat. They turned to face the familiar male voice, being met with the sight of Gomez Addams in his striped suit and hair pressed nicely in finger waves. Morticia slouched slightly, a minuscule cower taking form in her posture at the idea of ending their relationship. She glanced back at Larissa, who’d taken a few steps back to permit her to speak, and the shapeshifter gestured for her to start. Morticia didn’t for another moment, and with furrowed brows, Gomez glanced up at Larissa for clues as to the context of the situation at hand.
“Gomez,” Morticia started. She took a deep breath, straightened her back, and squared her shoulders. Dark eyes met similarly dark eyes as she continued. “We need to break up. I don’t want to discuss it in depth tonight, but it’s something I need to do now, so I need you to respect my decision. Please.”
Gomez’s bottom lip downturned slightly into an effortlessly flirty pout, clearly not comprehending the sudden change in Morticia’s feelings about him—at least, he believed them to be sudden changes. Morticia had thought about her sexuality and reflected for weeks.
“Tish, I don’t really think it’s appropriate to have your roommate here for this conver—”
“Addams!” a voice spitting venom screamed. The three of them turned their heads to the additional person, finding none other than Garrett Gates staring at them like a rabid animal. His eyes were emotionless, save for subtle flickers of revengeful fury, with his teeth gritted tightly as if he were a feral dog. His grip was deathly on the hilt, the point directed towards Gomez. Garrett’s hand trembled with revolting anger. “I’ve had enough of you fucking intervening.”
The moment the weapon was raised, Larissa boldly stepped in front of Morticia, keeping her hands reached back on either side to shield her. Her posture remained perfect, eyes narrowed to slits as she glared at Garrett. There wasn’t much she could do while lacking a weapon of her own, save for her shapeshifting abilities, but she would be damned if this fucking creep got his grubby hands on her beautiful Morticia, even if that meant she would get stabbed in the process—should it even come down to that.
“Larissa, get Morticia out of here,” Gomez called back to the shapeshifter, scrounging for something to defend himself with. He settled on an old pipe, rusted completely, gripping it tightly as he held it at attention towards Garrett. His heart raced, fingertips completely white as he tightened his hold. Adrenaline surged through him. “Larissa! Morticia! Go!”
Turning to face Morticia, Larissa saw complete fear in her eyes. She seemed frozen where she stood, her chin quivering as she watched Gomez begin to defend himself. Her dark eyes glistened with tears, droplets threatening to spill down her porcelain cheeks. Part of Larissa knew that Morticia was faking her confidence towards her stalker, but she had no idea Morticia was this terrified of him.
“Let’s go, Morticia,” Larissa urged, pulling on the goth psychic’s hands. The clashing of metal was loud, a piercing grinding of blade against pipe reaching their ears. “Darling, let’s go get an adult that can help us. Perhaps the headmistress—”
“I’m not leaving Gomez, Larissa,” Morticia defended. Larissa’s heart sunk when a few stray tears dripped down her face and off her chin. She reached out her hand to wipe them away tenderly, hands caressing her jaw. “You can go get an adult, Rissa, but I’m staying here. This fight is my doing.”
“These childish shenanigans on Garrett’s part are not your doing,” the shapeshifter retorted, a sharpness creeping into her tone. “Look at me, Morticia.”
Morticia didn’t dare glance up, far too ashamed of the mess she’d created. Larissa jolted her face up a bit too roughly, forcing eye contact. “I’m serious in saying let’s go.”
“Morticia, go!” Gomez shouted again. As both women turned back towards the dueling men, their eyes grew wide with panic. Gomez had the upper hand on Garrett for the moment, the normie’s face slammed aggressively into the stone pillar that lined the edge with the outcast’s hand between his shoulder blades. The sword had slid away from Garrett, but Gomez still clutched onto the pipe with his free hand.
Morticia still did not flee with her roommate, her voice growing hoarse as she repeatedly screamed for Garrett to stop assaulting Gomez, to just head home and leave everyone alone. Her black mascara dripped down her cheeks, shoulders tense as she forced herself to take shattered breaths. Thin eyebrows were knit together closely as she swallowed her sobs.
Time was intangible in that moment. Larissa watched the fight as if she were not the one in control of her body. Her hands, the duel, even Morticia’s distressed pleas seemed several hundred miles away. The clinking of metal, continuous male grunting, and her own desperate pleading was muffled. Everything was slow. Her body was not hers. She did not want to leave there, but she knew if there was going to be some sort of end to this madness, she needed to run for the headmistress.
Larissa bolted down the stairs, her heels clicking the only evidence of her descent to the headmistress’s office. Morticia took note of her absence subconsciously, but did not dare turn away from Gomez and Garrett. Garrett was on top of Gomez, pummeling his chiseled face with his fist, swinging with a ferocity that was clearly not some display of jealous affection towards his now ex-girlfriend, but the behavior of an extremely feral, almost possessed man. Gomez groaned, his face forced against the ground. Blood gushed from his broken nose and split lip, coating his tanned skin with rouge liquid.
“Stop!” Morticia yelled desperately once again. Her voice was leaving her, its volume weak and tone hoarse. “Stop it, Garrett!”
“Morticia, go!” Gomez screamed after her. “Get out of here! Go with Larissa! I can handle this!”
The sword was merely feet away. Glancing between them and the weapon one final time, gauging the distance and if it were safe, Morticia took the chance and dove for it. Her hands trembled on the hilt as she recalled from her fencing experience how to protect herself, but before she could, Garrett got up and lunged. Morticia did not recall doing it, but she watched the blade sink deeply into Garrett’s chest as if it were in slow motion. Panic struck her harder, her heart working hard in her ribcage as the fuzzy sensation of her peripherals failing overcame her. She watched Garrett stumble back, removing the blade of the sword from his chest, and slipping off the balcony. There was a sudden thud and a familiar feminine scream.
“Morticia!” Larissa screamed from the bottom of the courtyard, the headmistress in tow right behind her. Gomez stumbled slightly as he stood, one hand pressed to his lip to swipe the blood away. Morticia sunk to her knees, overcome by a plethora of negative emotions, and began to weep. The sight was heartbreaking to the young Addams boy, and intent on ending everything, he took the sword carefully from Morticia’s hands and limped over to the edge. He peered over, catching sight of Larissa with the headmistress. He knew this would be the end of it all. “Gomez, where’s Morticia?”
“She’s fine,” Gomez called down. He paused for a moment and swallowed hard, hesitant in his assessment of her mental state. “She’s in shock, I think.”
In hearing those words, adrenaline surged through Larissa’s veins. She bound for the roof where Morticia was, stumbling over her feet in her blinding anxiety and kicking off her heels to allow herself to run faster. Her blatant need to be with Morticia, to comfort her, to ensure she would recover timely, was her only motivator. Morticia was slouched on her knees when she reached her, her lithe body trembling with fear and remnants of salty tears on her pale skin. Her makeup was ruined. At the sight, Larissa, too, felt as though she’d been impaled by a blade between her ribs.
“Morticia,” Larissa sighed as she fell to her knees beside her, pulling her in flush to her chest. Morticia did not speak, she did not look up at Larissa, she only melted against the comfort of her embrace, soothed by the strength of her arms. “Darling, the police are on their way and they’re most likely going to want a statement. If you want me to take care of it all, I will.”
“I want to lay down,” Morticia mumbled into Larissa’s neck. Gomez, who stood a few feet away from the two roommates, observed silently. He held his breath, his heart shattering at the sight of the two of them together. Suddenly it was obvious. “Can we go lay down?”
Larissa nodded, pressing a loving kiss to the top of Morticia’s dark hair before she finally glanced up to see Gomez. His eyes were dimmed, any and all light leaving him, as Larissa tightened her hold on Morticia. Police stormed the rooftop, the sheriff himself restraining Gomez and fastening handcuffs around his wrists. He groaned as he was jolted.
“Larissa,” Gomez breathed. Larissa met his eyes once again, but stroked Morticia’s dark hair with a soft touch. She knew what he was going to ask, anxiety building in her chest. “It’s you, isn’t it?”
“Pardon?”
“That Tish loves. It’s you.” Larissa’s eyes widened slightly. She did not know Gomez well enough to know if he would out her to the rest of the school, or if the gossipy retelling of that night’s events that spread to the student body would include a feature of the two lesbian lovers.
“Let’s go, Addams,” the sheriff gruffly mumbled, pulling on his wrists and urging him forward. “This isn’t some goddamn social event.”
“I don’t care who has her heart as long as she’s treated like a goddess, Larissa,” Gomez called out after her as he was being hauled off. “Just take care of her. Please. I need her to have the absolute best.”
The shapeshifter chewed on the inside of her cheek as she offered a timid nod, watching as Gomez was brought out of the main building. Another police officer lowered herself beside Larissa and Morticia, her eyes much kinder than that of the sheriff’s. He meant business, but she merely seemed concerned.
“Hi ladies, I’m Officer Grimes,” she introduced herself. Larissa narrowed her eyes slightly, almost too overprotective of Morticia. The dark haired psychic did not move to face the officer, still soothed by the sound of Larissa’s heartbeat. “I need a statement from Miss Frump on the timeline of tonight’s events. Miss Frump, do you have a moment?”
“You police officers swarm like pests,” Larissa hissed. “Can’t you see she’s distraught? I can tell you absolutely everything you need to know, but Morticia is not in the right mindset.”
“Miss Weems, I know it’s difficult right now, but it truly is imperative that Miss Frump—”
“Nothing is more important than her well-being. Absolutely nothing, Officer Grimes. If she cannot speak, than tonight her statement will not be beneficial for you. I will bring her to the station myself in the morning if it’s so important. Now, are we done here?” Larissa’s hand carefully rubbed circles into Morticia’s upper back, holding her protectively as the cop sighed and rose to her feet again. She muttered something to another cop before nodding in agreement. “I’ll be taking Morticia to our dorm now. Goodnight, officers.”
Larissa stood slowly and helped Morticia to her feet. She took off her long, gold shimmering coat and draped it over her shoulders, shielding her in warmth as they walked back into the direction of Ophelia Hall. Morticia still seemed like a shell of herself as she scuffed her feet beside her lover, only truly speaking when the door to their room was shut and locked behind them.
“Larissa,” Morticia mumbled as she shed the coat she had placed on her shoulders. Larissa strode to Morticia’s side to take it from her, tossing it on her bed while she walked to Morticia’s dresser to get her some pajamas. She selected a large t-shirt from her drawer and hummed in acknowledgement. “I made the complaint about Garrett to the sheriff weeks ago. I didn’t want to tell anyone that I’d done so because the sheriff didn’t do anything about it. I didn’t want it to seem like it was affecting me, that not being believed had harmed me, but it does.”
Anger built in Larissa’s chest, demanding a release as the color red flooded her vision. She gritted her jaw tightly as she handed off the t-shirt to Morticia, distracting herself from her glaring emotions by sinking to her knees to remove her shoes. “I’ll have a word with Sheriff Walker in the morning, my darling. Tonight I want you to rest, okay? Don’t think about him, or tonight any longer.”
There was a slight pause as Morticia unzipped the back of her dress and let the fabric drop from her shoulders. “I’m sorry we didn’t get our dance.”
Larissa glanced up at Morticia, holding her calf firmly as she pulled off one of her heels. She lowered herself to kiss her shin tenderly before letting her leg drop. “I don’t mind. We can dance here, in the safety of our room, with our comfortable pajamas. What song do you want?”
Morticia thought about it for a long moment, mentally sorting through the options of the vinyls she had with her for her record player. She took a strong breath, a smile creeping onto her features. “Norwegian Wood. I love that song.”
“Perfect,” Larissa hummed. Morticia leaned down to remove the bobby pins from Larissa’s hair as she stood on her knees, letting her blonde waves flow down her back. Larissa’s eyes focused in on her roommate’s. “You need a makeup wipe, love.”
Morticia let her black dress pool at her ankles, and as she pulled the t-shirt over her head, she walked over to her desk to pull out her package of makeup removing wipes. She plucked two from the crumpled package—one for Larissa, one for herself—and handed it off to the shapeshifter. Larissa tugged on a new set of sleep shorts with her t-shirt before she accepted the wipe, kissing Morticia’s hand tenderly before she began to remove her red lipstick and dark mascara. Morticia grew sheepish.
“Why did you choose The Beatles?” Larissa asked as she tossed the used wipe in the garbage. Morticia, now clean faced, stood at her vintage record player as she pulled out her vinyl copy of Rubber Soul from its casing. She moved the needle of the player onto the vinyl, set the song, and hit play.
“No particular reason,” Morticia responded absently as she turned back to Larissa. She stepped up to her, a tired but somewhat smug smile setting on her feminine features. The shapeshifter couldn’t help but return the smile, the sight of Morticia’s happiness rather infectious. She slid her hands around the psychic’s waist, and Morticia reached her arms up to drape around her neck. The song began to play at a medium volume. “Do you like this music, mon coeur?”
“Truthfully, darling, I’m not much of a rock girl,” Larissa admitted as she leaned her forehead against Morticia’s. They swayed to the lyrics, not really paying much attention to anything besides them and the music in that moment. Morticia tried to forget what had happened, specifically how Garrett had plunged to his death, and her throat burned at the remembrance of those events. How hoarse she was. Larissa was merely focused on how good her roommate smelled. It was intoxicating, and a grounding stimulus to her otherwise high anxiety. “I listen to more jazz and opera than other genres, but I do enjoy this song, yes.”
“Of course you would,” the psychic teased with a breathy chuckle. She rested her head against Larissa’s chest as they swayed back and forth, humming the melody to herself as she listened to the shapeshifter’s heartbeat. Morticia, for the first time since Garrett had begun stalking her, felt safe in her roommate’s arms. She was shielded from the world, her blanket of safety being none other than Larissa Weems.
“Hey, I admitted this is a good song,” Larissa laughed tiredly. It was sweet and melodic. Morticia couldn’t help but giggle too, glancing up at her roommate to tuck her blonde hair behind her ears. The backs of her knuckles traced her cheekbone down to her jaw where her palms cupped her face tenderly. She stood on the tips of her toes for a kiss, but the moment their lips touched, a vision overcame her. She slumped forward, eyes rolling back. Larissa caught her.
“Miss Frump, you truly look so ravishing,” Larissa hummed with a vibrant smile. She looked Morticia up and down lovingly, her hands firmly planted on her hips as she took in the outfit she was wearing that evening. “Go on, give me a spin.”
Morticia scrunched her nose as she reluctantly spun for her girlfriend. “It’s only brown, Rissa. Don’t expect any other color than this.”
“Oh, but why? You look simply gorgeous,” Larissa frowned. Morticia laughed as she stood up on the tips of her toes and kissed Larissa sweetly. Her girlfriend deepened it, pulling her closer. “I love you, Miss Frump.”
“I love you too, Miss Weems.”
The vision ended abruptly, being one of the shortest Morticia swore she’d ever have. She straightened her posture, realizing that the rest of her Beatles album was playing as Larissa sat with her on the floor. Larissa supported her body tenderly, stroking her arms as she soothed her from the vision.
“You don’t seem so distressed this time,” Larissa admitted. She kissed the side of Morticia’s head. “Was it a pleasant vision, darling?”
Morticia smiled and crawled into Larissa’s lap, almost laughing at the question. She kissed her sweetly, drawing out the dopamine that surged through her with each kiss from her soft lips, before she burrowed her face in her neck. “It was a glorious vision, Miss Weems. Absolutely glorious.”