Work Text:
Late April 2024
Nevermore Academy, Jericho,
Vermont, USA
Wednesday Addams' perfectly manicured hands traveled the length of her fingerboard, the strings of her bow ebbing and flowing with practiced ease. She held the jet-black instrument reverently against her body, its sleek neck rested atop her chest and steadied between her knees as she played. The tempo was much slower than her usual choice of composition, at just sixty-eight beats per minute in D-major.
She had typically avoided such an upbeat tempo, preferring sharp, quicker, darker notes. It was her safety net, the violent strokes of her bow, aggressively curating acute arpeggios and drawing them forth. But with this piece, she had been left with no safety net, just a dark abyss below, a pit of hopelessness and self-desolation beneath her.
She rested her head gently against the elegantly sculpted scroll, her eyes shut tight in focus as she played by ear, lyric by lyric. She had known better than to find sheet music for this particular composition, knowing if it got into the wrong hands, especially Enid's, she would be caught like a mouse in a trap. It would be utterly humiliating for anyone else to know what song she selected for her assignment, to see the ballad and make preconceived notions about its meaning as it related to Wednesday. There was already so much gossip about her and-
But it wasn't the gossip that frustrated her, that crawled its way into her mind intrusively. In fact, it was her Advanced Orchestra professor's words that haunted her subconscious and ate their way into her inner thoughts.
"You're an exceptional musician, Miss Addams. Your skill and fine tuning better than any student I believe I have ever had the pleasure of teaching."
Of course, with this generous compliment, came a 'but'. "But there is something I've yet to see from you that my other students excel at." She hadn't needed to continue, Wednesday already knew what it was, but of course, "Emotion. While it may not be something you allow yourself to indulge in outside of this classroom or in your day to day life, its what all great musicians bring forth when they play."
Wednesday scowled at the woman, clenching her bow tightly, her fingers nearly tearing at the thin lines. "I'm going to change up your final assignment. For most students I ask that they compose a piece of their own, but you have been doing that expertly throughout the year already."
"For your assignment, I ask that you find an existing piece that truly resonates with you, deep within your soul. And then I want you to perform it, tweak it, make it your own. When you perform it for me, I'll ensure that it's in private."
Wednesday considered giving the woman a slight bout of food poisoning to prevent the final performance from taking place. She loathed being forced to step out of her comfort zone for the sake of a good grade. What was the point? She was already years ahead in technique compared to her classmates, playing circles around them expertly. And in her own way, she did feel emotional about her cello playing, so why did other people need to see that to believe it?
The words of the song played from the back of her mind, no matter how hard she tried to push them down. They were permanently imbedded into her mind from the first listen..
Isn't it strange?
I am still me
You are still you
In the same place
She willed herself to quiet the rapid beating of her heart, the overwhelming sadness that flooded her, even briefly, when she recalled the way the song made her feel. Upon the first listen, the poetic words took her breath away, settling in her mind uncomfortably, taking up immediate residence in her subconscious. But truthfully, her selection of the song had nothing to do with the lyrics. It wasn't necessarily the relevance of each syllable to her own life that struck her, that made her realize even if she continued on her search, she wouldn't find a more applicable song. It was the deep, profound lows of the melody, the feigned highs. It was the melancholic composition, despite being in a more notoriously upbeat tempo. It took one single listen for Wednesday to pick the song, deciding it suited the assignment rubric perfectly. The selection had to be contemporary, at least three and a half minutes long, and in an unfamiliar, unpracticed key to challenge the musician to play something out of their comfort zone. The song itself was longer than four minutes, but Wednesday kept true to the pace up until the crescendo.
Back to this room
Back to our roots
What did we lose?
She took comfort in the perfectly crafted art piece that was her treasured cello. Sometimes, it felt as if the only object who knew her better than she knew herself were wound in silver strings, lining from scroll to fine tuners. Even her typewriter lost out on that battle, the mechanical keys typing out projections of herself and those around her in characters sewn together by her vast imagination.
With her cello, there were no words to hide behind, no fictional caricatures of her own design to play pretend with. She'd only been asked once to degrade her instrument with unintelligent, inconsequential music, once, on Outreach Day at the late Principal Larissa Weems' demand. Fleetwood Mac. And not even a decent cover (she would have preferred The Chain, at the very least). She still cringed at the thought, tucking that memory away the same way she did with all others from that Fall.
It seemed as if everyone else around her was able to move past the macabre events that took place, Nevermore Academy righting itself again resiliently, the way all things in nature do; Jericho finding its footing despite the loss of their beloved mayor. Everyone around her moved about their day to day life happily, her roommate especially, gently poking and prodding hoping that Wednesday would come out with her, that she would go to the dances, perform with her in the Winter Solstice Talent Show, go for walks into town. Time and time again, Wednesday denied her, spending her free time mostly writing, sending her manuscripts out to countless editors hoping for a bite on publications that never came.
Wednesday focused her energy on the outro of the song, working through the bassline tentatively, moving her bow against the strings with slow precision.
That violent disclosure turns my insides,
Stops me
When I try to stand
She was nearing the end of the song now, adding a smooth vibrato to the climax. Keeping her bow parallel to the bridge, she tucked a finger against the appropriate string, applying enough pressure to paralyze it underneath her touch, her motions adding an intentional wavering effect to the longer notes. There was an inherent beauty to a perfectly executed vibrato, sending chills through her body through the last few lines of the song.
Isn't it strange
How people can change
From strangers to friends
Friends into lovers
And strangers again?
As the song came to a completion, Wednesday plucked the strings of her cello in pizzicato, fading out of the song with a delicate touch. Her head was still bowed, her eyes still shut as she lifted her head from the neck of her cello and slowly opened her eyes, focusing on the endpin between her feet. She allowed herself to be free from the pit of despair she had sunk into while playing, getting entirely lost in the music. But it was then that she noticed she had been crying, silently, a hot tear streaking down the length of her face.
She heard a sniffle coming from the woman across from her, and briefly glanced up to see her professor wiping her own pathetic tear from the corner of her eyes. Her legs were still crossed, ankles locked beneath her. The woman smiled, her lips quirking softly as she praised Wednesday quietly, her voice filled to the brim with emotion, "That's it, Miss Addams," she breathed, bringing a hand to her chest, obviously moved. "You've got it." Her eyes were teary, overcome with a kind of parasocial pride that quickly filled Wednesday with a certain unease.
The pathetic, childish version of Wednesday wanted so badly for her professor to elaborate on what exactly it was that she had, how successfully she had completed the assignment, from the selection of the song, to the perfected timing of each note, to the added maturity of her vibrato. But Wednesday wasn't a child anymore. Instead, she was a woman, pigeon holed into exploiting her vulnerability in front of an authority figure she barely knew. Her lips twitched with self-disgust at having allowed herself to explore this depth of emotion that she felt on a day to day basis in front of someone, a level of knowing even her psychiatrist was denied access to. She hated herself for crying, whether or not her professor noticed, for allowing the music to move through her and illicit such a foreign emotion.
So Wednesday lifted her bow and her cello, moving to her feet. Without another word, she made her way out of the classroom, seeking solace to lick her wounds in private.
Now that her cello final was complete, there was very little else for her to worry about in terms of assignments before graduation. There were two final papers she completed earlier in the semester, accompanied with thrice the amount of footnotes and cited works mandated by her teachers. The end of her Nevermore career was set to end in just mere weeks, her attention entirely set on making them as survivable as possible.
Everyone else seemed to have other priorities, namely Enid who was on the planning committee for all things senior events related. She had provided Wednesday with an itinerary, from the yearbook photo deadline to the date of Senior prom, and finally a plan for Senior-skip-day so embarrassingly childish it was borderline tragic. She'd declined on all of it, prepared for the blonde's perpetual pout every time the subject came back up.
It wasn't Enid, or even Enid's friends necessarily that prevented Wednesday from participating. She maintained a polite, even friendly demeanor with them, entertaining their girls nights in the dorms and even going out with them twice on the rare occasions that she owed her roommate a favor or lost a bet.
It wasn't the cliches of spending her senior year doing things that seniors do, getting their drivers licenses, promising to stay in touch with people you will inevitably never see again, swaying side to side at a tedious dance with some trivial crush who can barely look you in the eye.
It was the boy with the messy golden-brown curls and hazel eyes, the boy she had stupidly lowered her inhibitions for that first semester at Nevermore. Tyler Galpin. He had quickly been cleared of any wrongdoing with regards to the Hyde, his lawyers using the insanity defense to get him cleared of all potential charges. In the public, they hadn't named Tyler given his status then as a minor, but disclosed the situation at hand involved an insidious form of grooming, placing all blame on Laurel Gates who was formerly charged in her comatose state for the deaths of five people, along with multiple hate crime counts.
In the following months, after reading the extensive police reports about Laurel's abuse of Tyler, Wednesday quickly shut the manila folder and made her way towards the hospital to unplug the woman's life support machines herself, not before releasing a slow poison into her throat to burn her trachea inside out and send debilitatingly painful toxins through her blood stream, letting the woman choke on her own poisoned blood before she bit the dust.
No one had attended Laurel's funeral save for Wednesday, who watched as the plain wooden coffin which held the woman was lowered into the incinerator at the crematorium. She nodded once in acknowledgement to the operator when the box was sufficiently blackened.
Despite the fact that everyone seemed to have forgiven Tyler within the Nevermore community for the role he played in assisting Laurel, Wednesday was resistant. It was embarrassing enough to have wrongfully accused Xavier, leading to him being detained and held in the county jail (his father threatened to have her head for such an accusation) but to have additionally been led entirely astray from her initial reservations about everyone in Jericho? She couldn't stand the humiliation. And worst of all, she had really liked Tyler. Liked him more than she was able to justify. It made her severely uncomfortable to be in his presence even now, knowing that he was able to keep all of this from her, that he might never have liked her in the first place, that she was just a mere pawn in his game.
Normally, the only time she saw Tyler was in their Ancient Arithmancy course. While all of the adults at Nevermore had been on board about keeping the pair away from each other, their professor was of a particularly sociopathic nature. He frequently paired the two together for group work and assignments. Whenever it occurred, Wednesday ignored the boy, turning the pages to their textbook and completing the work herself. Tyler had seemed taken back the first two times Wednesday had ignored his attempts at conversation, his pleads with her to let him do some of the work, but she was unrelenting, shoving the pages rudely across the table for him to mark his name on, and making her way out of the classroom the second the bell rang.
The buzz around school regarding graduation and senior week was becoming increasingly intolerable. There were excessive public displays of affection, couples behaving like the forty minutes in which they were separated stood proxy for the years and distance they would soon be apart. Even friend groups exerted an unreal level of physical touch onto each other with prolonged hugs and unnecessary hand holding. It was as if everyone had gone absolutely out of their minds at the prospect of being removed from each other, when they still had 18 days of school left.
It was unconscionable, Wednesday thought, that her peers had their feet planted firmly in the present, fighting against the near future, an inevitability of adolescence. Sure, they had excitedly ripped open University acceptance letters, branded their new school colors in subtle ways (Enid finding a way to wear even more purple, if possible, to celebrate her acceptance to NYU). But now, they were honing in on every moment they had left, as if those celebrations for their next steps had never happened.
The truth was, despite her lack of participation in the excitement of Senior related events, Wednesday had the next five years of her life planned out in extensive detail. After a year abroad exploring haunted cities across the world, stopping briefly in Romania to visit her Uncle Fester who was taking a brief sabbatical in the country, she would go off to a distinguished University for forensic chemistry and philosophy. Never again would she subject herself to the degradation of having a roommate or living in a coed dorm, she had already made her parents agree to renting her an apartment or condo off campus when the time came.
There was only one thing left, one box still unchecked that she wanted completed before her time in Jericho ended. It was an ambition she would admit to no one out loud, so embarrassingly cliche that it made her want to choke. All of her literary heroes, notably Mary Shelley, had lost their virginity in their teens, and in ways that were considerably envy-provoking. Mary Shelley, having had sex the first time on her mother's grave, made Wednesday all too eager to lure her own mother into a coffin six feet under. Though if Morticia Addams had known the true nature of Wednesday's request, which Wednesday strongly suggested she might (as she was the one to tell the story of Mary Shelley in the first place), she would go into that box all too willingly, with a smirk on her face at Wednesday indulging in such a fantasy. And, put plainly, she could not have that. Not at all.
This desire made sense to Wednesday, at least in the far, far corners of her mind. It was an entirely practical thing to want. Not only had she been curious about the vulnerable ways in which someone could bare themselves to another person, making them entirely perfect prey for a delicious crime of passion, but Wednesday had felt sexual desire before, once, and had since been chasing that feeling with others to no avail. Despite her attempts at weighing her own attraction to others, men and women alike, there was no one who sparked her particular interest. She had even purchased a high-grade vibrator, one that was meant to apply intense suction at her clit, to simulate oral sex, and she had only used it once or twice, not finding the motivation or time in private to give herself more than a few decent orgasms.
And therein laid the problem. Nevermore Academy was a coed school, where she was forced in proximity to the other, far less evolved sex. She was housed in a coed dorm, boys and girls fluttering through the dank halls, blushing when they passed each other like second grade fools. It was Wednesday's highest ambition to not have this be a factor in her future. Each of her physicians were selected as the best women doctors in their field, now that she had finished all of the classics by male literary "geniuses", she had devoted a new library within her childhood home to female only writers, and it would be a high priority for herself, when she eventually left to University, to seek female professors only. She had enough of her testosterone driven peers who thought with the wrong head, enough of the condescension from her male teachers who nit-picked her work because they had nothing better to do and were too stubborn to admit her assignments reflected analyses far beyond the college level. And she would never be gaslighted by a male doctor ever again, not when she was looked over just once following her defeat of Joseph Crackstone, her injuries branded "surface level only". Even now, her jaw twitched at the thought of the imbecile who deigned her in near perfect health because she snapped when he tried to get a closer look, nearly cracking the digits of his exploratory hands off when he tried to lift her shirt and get a closer look of the healed stab wound of her abdomen.
Given that she had no intention of being in close proximity to another man for the foreseeable future, her options for a sexual partner were draining quickly, like sand in an hourglass. She realized quickly there was only one suitor who foot the bill. Only one who didn't make her body cringe in disgust. Only one she had ever felt a true, meaningful physical attraction to, at least, the only one living. It was meeting him that taught her that human chemistry, in application, was not merely a farce. There was a natural, innate connection there, whether she liked it or not, and if she wanted to get this over with, to check this box off for good, he was the only person she could ask.
It took over a week for Wednesday to make peace with her decision, and find the confidence necessary to approach Tyler.
She breathed carefully, in through one nose and out through the other as she made her way towards Tyler's dorm on the top floor, each step weighing her down heavily. He had been situated in the attic, the room making itself available out of no where when the board voted to let him attend the school. They'd decided that their decades-long discrimination against Hyde went against Nevermore's modernized values, their vision statement put forth of being a 'mosaic community'. In addition to their lenience towards Tyler, the board had agreed to personally investigate the community's mistreatment of Francoise, Tyler's mother which occurred a quarter century ago. Wednesday's mother Morticia served on the board, and offered to help in brewing a potion to keep Tyler's Hyde at bay, allowing him to live a somewhat normal life.
At the top of the stairs, she reached his door, a rusted over encryption only barely legible on the side panel: Bacci suite.
She cringed at the Italian translation, lifting her fist once, twice, before finding the strength to knock, shutting her eyes to attempt to stable the waves of humiliation rushing through her.
"Coming," she heard from behind the door, before it finally opened approximately eight seconds later.
Tyler stood before her, his hair damp as if he had just gotten out of the shower. In this lighting, his eyes looked darker, his mouth flushed. She wondered if he had just been brushing his teeth, taking an inconspicuous inhale to confirm her hypothesis, his breath smelled minty.
"Uh..." he trailed off, blinking repeatedly and waiting for the apparition of Wednesday Addams before him to disappear quickly. There were ghosts in this hall, surely, but never one that he had seen with classic pigtail braids and a perfectly lined mauve scowl.
"Can I come in?" Wednesday asked, her expression disdainful and sour as usual.
Without a reply, Tyler opened his door and moved aside, allowing her entry.
His room was plain, the dark four hundred year old flooring inherent to Ophelia Hall accompanying cliche, faux-brick concrete walls.
Besides the staple furniture pieces, a decorative light fixture, a stack of non-academic books, and a violet Nevermore Academy felt pennant, the space was practically empty, modest.
Wednesday finished her brief surveillance of the room and turned around to face Tyler.
"Is this some kind of daydream turned dark and twisted?" Tyler asked, almost to himself. "What are you doing here?"
"I have a proposition for you," Wednesday started, tucking her chin downwards, her eyes cast on the floor. "I don't see the use in explaining the situation at hand in depth, so let me be blunt."
Tyler shut the door to his dorm slowly, "Okay."
She took a silent deep breath of courage before she found her voice, "I want to have sex."
He chuckled then in disbelief before bringing a hand up to pinch his wrist. If he hadn't been certain whether or not this was happening in real life before, now he was entirely convinced this was some kind of cruel hallucination, or at least a nightmare. Wednesday hadn't come propositioning him in a dream since-
"Good for you," he replied with a snark. "So why are you knocking on my door?"
Wednesday blinked, her eyes glancing between Tyler and his hand still on the door. It was embarrassing enough having come here, but needing to explain why it was him she chose as her intended sexual partner was too awkward, too painful. The silence as she weighed her response was deafening.
Suddenly, Tyler stood tall, pulling his hand off the doorknob before turning his head slightly.
"You don't mean-" he started, letting out an unsure, humored chuckle, "you want... me?"
She gave another blink.
"Why? I don't think you've said one word to me in like, two years. And now you want us to have sex?"
"Yes," she said plainly. "Are you in or are you out?"
I'm about to be in AND out, he thought, before deciding to save his depraved attempts at humor to himself.
He quirked a brow at her, "Hold on. Exactly how am I benefiting from this proposition?"
Wednesday stared at him expectantly, her chin tucked to her collarbone, as if to ask: Is that a serious question?
"You don't speak to me, but then you show up asking to use me for sex? Let's say we do it, then what? We part ways and never speak to each other again?"
"I wouldn't be using you," Wednesday said, her tone icy with resentment at the implication, "I would expect you to be an active participant. An enthusiastic one, even."
"Right," he started, choosing his words carefully, "so how then is this gonna work?"
Wednesday moved towards the door, meeting Tyler halfway, "What do you mean?"
Tyler huffed, "how are we going to do this?"
Wednesday was unblinking, but her brows furrowed in annoyance. "Did you fail your seventh grade health class?"
He rolled his eyes. "That's not what I meant."
She looked at him expectantly, so he continued.
"When, Where, Why, How..." he trailed off. "Rules"
"Are you busy tomorrow?" she asked.
He scratched his head in thought, but truthfully, he never had plans outside of the occasional dinner with his dad, and mandated psychiatry appointments.
"Uhh... no."
"So tomorrow, same place same time. As for the how and the rules, we'll figure that out." She nodded once before turning around and opening the door, the hinges creaking noticeably louder than usual.
"And the why?" he asked, in an attempt to stop her in her tracks.
"Not your problem. Or your business."
"I feel like it actually is my busin-" he began.
But she was already gone.
Tyler Galpin was reeling.
He had been in the middle of getting ready for bed when he heard a knock on the door to his dorm. Nearly tripping over his used towel, he stumbled over to the door, expecting the head of their dorm to be doing monthly room checks.
What he certainly was not expecting, was Wednesday Addams behind the door, her expression unsettled. When she blurted out that she was going to have sex, he nearly choked on the leftover bit of toothpaste still coating his teeth. As if her complete shut out of him since he had been accepted to Nevermore was not an obvious means of letting him know she was over him, now she had come bragging about her desire to fuck someone else.
It wasn't as if he had any room to be judgmental of Wednesday for seeking pleasure elsewhere. Following Laurel and the fiasco that was his legal situation, he had been wild with desire, suddenly overcome with a need to be sated, rutting himself against the old pillows in his home, and even taking home a former coworker and classmate who had been on her way to college. It was a purely physical encounter, taking the girl from behind with his eyes closed shut. When he came, she had thanked him, giving him a kiss on the cheek and requesting that he call her if he was ever in South Carolina. He wouldn't be, so he deleted her number quickly, sitting in the shower until he had washed himself clean of her, finding himself curled up, pruned, freezing cold after twenty minutes of disassociating. It was hypersexualization, his therapist called it, his need to satisfy his sexual pleasure at any and all cost, even if he wasn't emotionally ready.
After a month of wallowing, Tyler decided against another one-night stand, another once and done fuck. The idea morally repulsed him, and he was nearly ill with self-hatred at having had sex with anyone without it actually mattering. He'd taken a silent oath to himself not to have sex with someone unless he was in love.
And now he was fucked.
Because the truth was, he was in love with Wednesday, whether or not it was years ago didn't matter. He loved her dark eyes, the freckles decorating her cheeks, her full lips. She was so small in his hands the time they kissed that night in the Weathervane, the skin of her cheek so soft, so supple. He had rubbed himself raw at the thought of her on her knees before him, those eyes beneath her lashes and too-long bangs, her mouth opened ever so slightly to take him between her lips, the same way she had taken her own finger into her mouth that night of the Rave'N, pressing the paint against her tongue and removing it slowly.
Tyler spent the next five hours straight on the private search tab of his phone, watching countless hours of pornography, not to get off, but rather to study it. He watched tutorials on oral sex, tips for finding that spot that makes her squirt, and listening to dirty talk audios. He had scoured reddit clean, reading a number of posts from users desperate to make their first time with their special someone perfect. He took detailed notes in his mind, storing the information in his brain for later.
He hadn't fallen asleep until an hour before his first class, startling awake when his alarm clock blared. He got dressed in his catatonic, zombie-like state, preparing himself to see Wednesday for the first time since her proposition last night. He checked the skin of his wrist where he pinched himself to see a fingernail imprint, cursing at the reality right in front of him: Wednesday Addams had asked him to have sex with her, and he had said yes.
That afternoon, when Tyler walked into their Advanced Arithmancy course, Wednesday was already seated, her hands folded on top of her desk. She had never needed to use a notebook, he noticed, her eidetic memory serving her well. On the occasions that she had paper in front of her, it was either because their teacher had passed out a worksheet, or because she was writing something entirely unrelated to the class. He had glanced at her writing once, when they had been paired together, and Wednesday quickly shoved it into her bag, tugging it immediately out of view.
For the first time, Wednesday looked up at him. She held his curious gaze for just a moment before drawing her attention to the board. He almost wanted to sit next to her, to see if she would engage in conversation with him now, given what they were about to do, but thought better of it. One, the seat next to her had been occupied by Bianca Barclay, who would undoubtedly give him shit for stealing her chair and who had been quietly protective of Wednesday, casting Tyler glances that he could only describe as being rooted in the "you hurt my friend, I hurt you" mentality. He was glad Wednesday had more friends though, secretly proud of her for opening herself back up socially. Second, he had thought that by approaching Wednesday and blowing their cover, she might withdraw the offer all together, and he was not prepared for such a cruelty, especially not after having lost sleep desperately trying to figure out how to make her come.
On top of his late night, not-safe-for-work research, he had been dreaming of her too. Long, wistful dreams in which he imagined getting her to open up for him, making her feel so overcome with pleasure that she decided to reward him with vulnerability. He dreamed of her soft caresses, her kind words, her whispering that she loved him, that she had never gotten over him, that she wanted to live together in his bed permanently. There was no doubt in his mind that if she had asked, he would burn the rest of the school down just for them to exist in his attic room together, forever, tangled in the sheets, giving each other countless orgasms and making up for lost time. He couldn't wait to kiss her again, to feel her mouth move against his, to feel her fall apart on his fingers, to hear the sounds of her pleads and gasps as she came. He wanted her so badly, he ached.
When Wednesday did arrive that night, she knocked once, her posture entirely relaxed, despite her nerves.
Tyler waved awkwardly in greeting, letting her in.
She moved over past the door, dropping her bag on the floor before settling herself in front of his full sized mirror. It was old, she noticed, worn, likely having come with the room There was slight bubbling, a wearing down of the mercury behind the glass. The reflection was cloudy, but adequate. She watched herself in it, drawing attention to her figure, the curve of her mouth, the outfit she chose.
"You like it?" Tyler asked, scratching his head. She tilted her head in concentration wondering if she spinned three times she might see Bloody Mary. As a child, she had attempted to call her in a seance, before her Mother chastised her for playing games with Spirit. There was something inherently beautiful about antique mirrors though, and she had to admit, it suited his space nicely. She hadn't answered him before he continued. "Came with the room." Bingo.
Wednesday tensed up ever so slightly, anticipation running through her system.
Tyler was likewise anxious, picking at the skin of his thumbs before deciding to take action.
It was now or never, he thought, time to put the game plan in motion.
"Can I ask you something?"
She blinked in reply.
"Why did you pick me?" he asked, a smile slightly making its way across his facial features.
Wednesday bit her tongue, holding back from completely eviscerating him. She kept her gaze steady, knowing that if she faltered, she would be giving him way too much ammunition against her. There was no way she could risk that level of transparency, vulnerability. Not even with him. Especially not with him.
"Is it because the idea of a hate fuck turns you on?" He inched closer to her, his eyes dark, like they were two years ago that night in the Sheriff's station. His tone was suddenly menacing, as if his entire personality had shifted. His next question ended in a whisper, vocal-fry sending shivers down her spine. "Or is it because you know no one else can make you feel the way I do?"
She watched him approach in the full size mirror, her muscles tightening in what might come off to him as fear or trepidation.
"Don't worry," he teased. "I haven't told anyone how bad I know you've still got it for me."
Wednesday turned on her heel quickly to face the boy she loathed, her reply sharp.
"Shut your mouth."
She was already regretting this, and they hadn't even gotten started. Before she knew it, she was backed against the door, Tyler's hips pinning her in place, his palm pressed beside her head, his knee placed roughly between her thighs.
Despite his aggressive movements, his expression was entertained, his head tilted slightly in amusement.
"Don't tell me what to do with my mouth," he grit out, glancing down to her lips before drawing a hand upwards to caress her braid playfully. "Not yet."
She glared at him through her bangs, her expression hateful.
"I've missed you," he said then, brushing her bangs away to see her eyes. He was still smiling. "Did you miss me?"
"No," she replied sincerely. "I see you every day."
Tyler chuckled, "You don't miss my hands?" he asked, bringing his palm that sat against the door to her waist, pulling her impossibly close.
She tightened in his grip, shaking her head, going entirely stiff as the whole of his hand bunched at the material of her clothing, squeezing her waist earnestly.
"What about this?" he whispered, as he moved his mouth to just above her lips. He hovered there momentarily, waiting for Wednesday to lean into him, to take her fill. Her breath hitched, but she maintained her defiance.
He brushed his lips against her own, the feather light touch sending shivers down Wednesday's spine.
"Rule number one," Tyler breathed. "This is not a one and done deal where I fuck you, and then you leave me."
Her eyes were still, unmoving.
"Or one of those things where we both tug our pants down and just go at it with our heads turned away from each other."
She was listening intently, so he continued. "I get you for the whole night," he demanded. "And I get your mouth on mine. No buts."
Wednesday considered this; while it wasn't an ideal situation, more time together meant she could experiment more, get as much out of her system in one night as possible so she didn't spend the rest of her life wondering how it felt in different positions. And on top of that, if she had ever decided to step into writing erotica (which paid incredibly decently) it would be easier to write from experience.
"That's two rules," Wednesday said finally. "And I'm wearing a skirt."
"Pedantic as always," Tyler teased, glancing at his own knee between her legs, now nudging its way up her skirt. "And trust me, I noticed."
Heat was already pooling in her stomach, the feel of his skin against her inner thigh, his rough knee nearly making contact with-
She pushed him off of her, her hands rough against his shoulders.
"Rule number three," she began, "No more questions about why we are doing this.
Wednesday could tell Tyler didn't want to agree, his jaw ticked noticeably in frustration.
"Fine," he spit out. She watched the word flow from the bottom of his lip to the roof of his mouth in slow motion. Pleased with his response, she tilted her head up towards him, preparing herself mentally for his next response. "Anything else?"
Instead of answering her, Tyler closed the distance between them, capturing her lips with a searing kiss. The second his mouth met hers, for the first time in what felt like a decade but was really under two years, a groan escaped him. He tugged at her waist, pulling her against him as he tilted his dead, deepening the kiss, attempting to get her to open her mouth for him.
At first she would not relent, kissing him back gently with soft pecks, pulling away teasingly every time his tongue got a little too excited. Kissing might be one of their rules, she figured, but that didn't mean she had to enjoy it.
As if he had been reading her mind, Tyler pulled back, caressing her chin before whispering, "Would you let me kiss you properly? Or do I have to beg to get you to open your mouth?"
As tempting as his offer was, Wednesday knew the best solution was to simply surrender. She leaned forward, biting his upper lip between her teeth. He hissed at the pain, tugging her forward as he withdrew his lips, using his tongue to check if her bite left any damage. At the slight taste of metal, he chuckled, bringing a hand to her hair to pull her hard against his mouth.
He pressed his lips against her firmly, allowing his tongue to trace her lower lip as he tilted his head. He was hungry for her, his mouth desperately seeking an opening. She indulged him, opening her mouth for his tongue to trace against her teeth. Tyler could feel her shudder at the feeling, her hands moving to his arms to steady herself.
Reaching underneath her thighs, Tyler quickly picked her up and wrapped her legs around his waist. He kissed her cheek, her jaw, her neck as he made his way over to the modest twin bed in the center of the room.
Despite the temptation to throw her onto the bed as punishment for nipping roughly at his lips, he was gentle, leaning down carefully to place her on top of his duvet. When he pulled away from her, he was out of breath, standing in front of her sitting form as he tugged his shirt above his head.
"This okay?" he asked. "it's getting hot in here."
Wednesday scowled in response. "I think it's just you."
Tyler feigned surprise, his hand clutching at his now bare chest. "Are you, Wednesday Addams, flirting with me right now?"
She clicked her tongue at the perverted misinterpretation of her words. "Get over yourself."
He laughed before leaning down and kissing the miserable frown off her face, moving to straddle himself above her. She reacted quickly, choosing to move backwards and sit on her heels as they made out. Tyler followed suit, leaning forward onto his own knees as his grip on her waist tightened. He moved his mouth down to her neck, his hands tugging on the material of her sweater. "Can I take this off?" he requested softly.
She nodded before pulling at the hem of the sweater herself, the two of them working the material above her head. She was wearing a white button up blouse underneath that she moved to unbutton as well.
Tyler bit his lip watching her get undressed, her perfect hands making their way towards each button with swift ease, His hand met her hip, just above the skirt she was wearing as she revealed herself to him.
Underneath the white button up was a black lacy bra, making his mouth water with anticipation. As silly as it was to admit, he was definitely a boobs man, and the sight of her dark nipples pert underneath the sheer material was making him unbelievably horny.
"Not. One. Word." she warned him, her gaze darkened beneath her bangs.
He smiled, leaning to mouth at her neck. "You mean I'm not allowed to tell you how fucking sexy you are?" he asked, placing a kiss where her throat met her collarbone. He reached a hand upwards, inching its way towards her chest. "Because that won't do."
"Enough," she spit out. "Put your hands on me."
Tyler obliged, bringing his hand to caress her breast over the material of the bra. She sighed at the feeling, moving his other hand to grab the other.
"Somebody's eager," Tyler teased, kissing her collarbone gently before tugging off her blouse completely.
He moved to unhook her bra from behind her back, getting one loop out at a time. Despite having researched the art of removing a bra, he was not a connoisseur by any means. She took pity on him and helped, unhooking it completely and tossing it next to her.
Moving from his collarbone, he leaned downwards, mouthing over her ribcage, placing gentle kisses across her chest. One hand moved to caress her now bare breast, pleased to find a perfect handful to squeeze in his palm. Between his index and middle fingers, he located her pert nipple, moving his hand gently to harden them further and get her turned on. She gasped, moving a hand in his hair so he could take her other nipple into his mouth. He licked at the sweet mauve bud before taking it completely into his mouth, sucking hard.
The hand that was playing with her other nipple moved downwards, circling the soft skin of her abdomen, waist, then back. He moved his mouth to tend to the abandoned breast, taking as much as he could into his mouth, his tongue playing with the sensitive nipple.
After a minute of tending to her breasts, he moved downwards again, kissing the space between her breasts and making his way lower.
"Lay back," he instructed.
She moved off of her knees, sitting sideways to allow herself room to lean against the bed. He followed her, his hands now lightly touching her thigh.
Exactly where he wanted her, Tyler traveled back up to her mouth, kissing her earnestly. He tugged at her waist, pulling her towards him as he moved his lips against her own. "So pretty," he praised between kisses. She leaned into him, her hands placing light touches against the hard muscle of his chest.
"You can touch me too," he whispered, reassuring her. She nodded, moving her hands up and down the length of his abdomen before making their way up to his shoulders. She explored him with her hands, caressing his upper and lower back as she attempted to keep up with his mouth. He pinched her nipples between his fingers and her breath hitched in response.
"Mhmm," he cooed against her skin, "you like that?"
She ignored him as her hands traveled lower, brushing against the v-line leading down to his pants.
"Good girl," he grit out.
"You are insufferable," she replied, toying with the fabric of his pants.
He chuckled, kissing below her ear as he moved his hands to her zipper.
"Can we take this off?" he asked.
She kept her eyes on his as she unzipped her skirt, allowing him to tug it down her hips and down her legs. She was practically bare for him now, save for the lacy strap of underwear between her thighs.
He kissed her shoulder. "If it's too much, just tell me to stop."
Wednesday nodded, grabbing his hand and slowly bringing it down to cup her over her panties.
Tyler cursed under his breath at the feel of her. She was warm and already wet for him. He used a finger to hook the string between her thighs and pull it away from her, baring her vulva for less than a second before feeling against her wet folds.
He continued kissing a path down her shoulder and arm, hoping to distract her nerves. He felt up and down the length of her pussy with his finger, from her entrance to her clit. Using some of the slick at where she was leaking for him, he moved two fingers up to where her clit was bared, now swollen before him. He applied more pressure gradually, moving his fingers wildly and using her soft breathy moans to determine how well he was doing.
At some point, she was breathing so heavily he could no longer use it as a frame of reference for her pleasure.
"Tell me what you feel," he breathed against her ear.
Her breath caught in her throat. "I-I feel..."
She attempted to hone in on his ministrations, the feeling of his calloused fingers moving between her legs.
There was a slight pressure in her stomach, a gradual contraction of muscle building slowly, but surely.
Her hips bucked up, chasing his touch, in attempt to get more pressure, more purchase.
"Tell me," he whispered demandingly, his fingers slowing.
Wednesday let out a shaky breath, "I'm close. I need more."
Tyler positioned his fingers just against her pelvic bone, applying more force as he rubbed at her clit furiously.
"Do you touch yourself like this?" he asked, his tone vicious. "Get yourself off like this?"
She moaned in response, throwing her head back in pleasure as she felt the first hint of a climax, a single throb of ecstasy. She wanted more. She wanted-
Suddenly, Tyler's fingers were gone, cool air flowing quickly to meet her now throbbing skin.
Wednesday sat up quickly, her expression furious, pupils entirely dilated. "What?" she forced out. "What are you doing?"
He stared down at his now wet fingers, his eyes cruel and uncaring.
"I'm not playing this game with you," he said with a shrug. "Rule number four: you don't answer my questions, you don't get to come."
She was angry, indignant. "I came here for sex. Not an inquisition."
Tyler leaned backwards, seemingly indifferent bracing himself with the hand he was just surveying. "You want my hands? My dick? You'll answer me when I talk to you."
They maintained eye contact for a moment, neither willing to backdown from their moral high ground.
Finally, Tyler's free hand reached for her thigh, caressing it with his knuckle gently. His eyes turned soft, his gaze lowering.
"Lay back down," he requested, brushing against her with his thumb.
Her gaze was unrelenting, but she lowered herself back down against the duvet, curving her back ever so slightly, unwilling to allow herself to fully relax under his instruction.
Tyler chuckled at her defiance before lowering himself also, moving onto his hands and knees, just slightly above her.
"Come here," he requested, his hands moving under her thighs.
She inched her hips forward, her brows knit tightly in confusion.
"A little closer," Tyler instructed. His mouth was glistening, practically foaming with want as he took his bottom lip between his teeth.
Finally she inched her knees upwards and pushed downwards, her back now flat against the bed, her knees raised.
He moved between her thighs, raising one leg above his shoulder. Maintaining eye contact, he tugged at the lace of her underwear before removing it completely.
Glancing quickly between her legs, Tyler's lips quirked slightly, a smirk appearing on his face that Wednesday immediately wanted to smack off.
"Did you shave for me, Addams?" he taunted.
She grit her teeth, remembering his rule. "Wax."
His smirk grew, "even better."
Tyler settled himself between her legs, using the arm underneath her thigh to curl around, his fingers spreading her open for him. She was hot and wet, sticky with need. Pressing a kiss to the sexy landing strip above her vulva, he hummed against her skin, inhaling deeply.
His voice was hoarse, "I'm going to taste you," he informed her, "And you're going to be a good girl, and tell me when you're about to come."
She nodded, and he frowned.
"What did I say?" he asked.
Fuck. "Yes," she answered him.
Tyler smiled wickedly before licking her, his tongue flat and gentle against her folds.
He moaned at the taste, pressing his tongue further against her, mouthing hungrily at her inner labia.
Wednesday whimpered softly, thrusting her hips upward once again, this time in attempt to curb the ticklish sensation of his curls against the skin of her thighs. His mouth was grazing lower where she was practically leaking, and she needed him higher. She needed his tongue against the aching bud of her clit. She needed the warmth of his mouth enveloping her, she needed-
When his tongue pressed against her entrance, she nearly shot up with surprise, her eyes widening anxiously. Tyler held her down with one arm, pressing her roughly against the bed.
"Relax" he groaned, pulling away slightly. His other hand came up between her legs, his fingers inching towards her center.
Tyler kissed her inner thigh before bringing his index finger to her entrance, teasing gently. He watched her as he attempted to insert it, one centimeter at a time.
She inhaled deeply, adjusting to the thickness of his finger. He moved it slowly, curving it upwards so as not to tug at the thin, sensitive skin below.
"Feel good?" he asked.
"Yes," she replied.
He smiled before kissing her clit, bringing his tongue just next to it teasingly.
As he sucked her clit into his mouth, he entered his finger completely, the pinch of discomfort from the intrusion almost entirely unnoticeable with the sudden pleasure she felt at having him exactly where she needed him.
Tyler's head between her thighs was quite the sight, a mess of curls and lustful eyes staring back at her as she braced herself against the pillow. Her hand moved to his hair in an attempt to get him closer.
"What is it?" he hummed. "What do you need?"
"More," she breathed.
He gave it to her, adding suction to her clit and finally increasing the pace of his finger. He moved it in and out of her repeatedly before deciding to hold it in halfway, steady, crooking it upwards every so often, prodding experimentally.
Wednesday suddenly felt the graze of his teeth against her and she shuddered, "Don't play dirty," she grit out.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Tyler replied playfully.
"How would you like if I used my teeth on you?"
He kissed her thigh once, hooking his finger inside of her and caressing her g-spot, sponge-like and angled perfectly, just a few inches deep.
"Actually," he replied, kissing her clit. "I'd love it."
When his mouth reattached itself against her, Wednesday was a fumbling mess, her orgasm almost imminent. He had been slowly teasing it out of her, and she was exhausted, waiting for that hint of pleasure to finally sneak up on her.
In addition to the suction of his lips, and the fullness of his finger caressing her muscles, Tyler continued a low hum against her, adding vibration to his motions and torturing her slightly.
Out of no where, her legs began to shake, her thighs suddenly unstable, turning to jelly beneath her.
Tyler glanced up between her legs expectantly, but she held out on alerting him. He increased the pace of his finger, moving his mouth messily against her clit.
He was lapping her with his tongue almost religiously, an intentional pattern of repetition between movements.
"I'm close," Wednesday said finally, holding his head against her. She couldn't hide it any longer, her pathetic body betraying her with involuntary shaking and clenching, and she didn't want to see what happened if she came without telling him first.
He watched her then, carefully between her gorgeous milky thighs as he ate her out, coaxing her orgasm out of her with his finger. God she was gorgeous like this, he thought, head thrown back, hair a mess, cheeks flushed mauve, her mouth agape in pleasure. He could feel her thighs shaking on either side of his neck and decided to add a second finger, stretching her ever so slightly as she clenched around him.
She was so tight, she practically fought against the second digit, her muscles taut, defiant.
But if he couldn't even get a second finger in, he reasoned fitting himself inside of her was never going to work. So he crooked his finger inside of her slightly, making room for another.
Apparently the crook of his finger was all she needed, because she cried out desperately, gasping for breath as she came. Timing her moment of climax appropriately, he buried both fingers to the hilt inside of her, decreasing the pressure of his mouth on her clit as she rode out her high. Her muscles squeezed his fingers deliciously even as he pulled away.
She laid flat, her head tilted to the side as she finished. Her chest rose and fell repeatedly as he watched, enamored by the sight before him.
When she was well and truly spent, he slowly removed his fingers from her, moving up from his position to sit on his knees. His hand that had been holding her hips down gripped her now-relaxed thigh to get her attention. When she finally looked at him, he brought his wet, sticky fingers to his mouth, maintaining eye contact as he sucked them clean.
He removed one at a time from his mouth, cleaning them off completely with his tongue. "Mmm," he hummed. "It even tastes like it's been earned.
Wednesday wanted to hit him. She wanted to punch him so hard his teeth were knocked out clean, and he had to spend the rest of his life walking around with a goofy looking toothless grin on his face, unable to find another female partner to bring to orgasm.
She let herself recover from her orgasm for a moment, before reaching for him again.
He was kissing her stomach and chest, slowly making his way back up the length of her body.
"What do you wanna do?" he asked her, his fingers carefully tracing her belly button. "We can wait, we can explore some more. I can go down on you again if you want."
She shook her head. "Don't you want me to return the favor?"
Tyler's hand stilled. "Is that what you want?"
Wednesday considered his offer.
"I should tell you that I already... uh... got off before this."
She squinted her eyes at him in confusion.
"I wanted to be able to last... when the time came."
There was no judgement in her eyes, and she seemed to understand his reasoning.
Still, she wanted to feel him, to know exactly what she was getting herself into, so she reached down over his pants and attempted to grasp at his erection.
At first, she felt just the thin material of his pants, and heard a chuckle as Tyler used his hand to guide her upwards to where his length lay against his hip.
Wednesday's fingers briefly felt the hard bulge, so different from any other organ or muscle, using her manicured nail to trace him.
Tyler hissed beneath her touch. "Careful," he warned.
She blinked up at him in apology before bringing her palm against him, applying slight pressure.
He exhaled beneath her touch, letting her explore with her hands, suddenly feeling a rush of heat move through him.
His cock was bigger than Wednesday had expected, reading that the average penis size was around five and a half inches. She wasn't sure if he was fully hard, not yet anyways, but figured that he was at least seven, moving her hand down to the base, surprised at how much coverage she had missed at her first touch.
She took in a sharp intake of breath, pulling her hand away from him and making eye contact.
"I want..." she trailed off.
Tyler used his hand to touch her jaw, brushing a knuckle against it as he watched her carefully, awaiting her request.
"I think I want to try it now, the sex part."
He raised an eyebrow of surprise at her before pulling himself forward and onto his feet.
Tyler dropped his pants and boxers together, his cock springing upward against his pelvis and lower stomach. He walked over to his nightstand, pulling out the drawer and reaching for a condom.
He was fisting himself, attempting to get as hard as possible before putting the condom on.
Wednesday watched him before sitting up herself.
In anticipation, she rolled onto her hands and knees, presenting to him like a dog in heat.
"Jesus Christ," he cursed.
"What?" she called out over her shoulder, suddenly self-conscious.
"I'm not taking you like that," he scoffed. "What am I, an animal?"
Embarrassed but desperate not to show it, she turned on her knees into a seated position.
"Then how do you want me?" she asked, her eyes cast downwards, now fixated on his length. He was still applying the condom, rolling it downwards towards the base. It took longer than she anticipated, the latex stretching at the widest part of him
He walked over to her then, using a clean hand to caress her flushed cheek. "I want you like this," he said. "Eyes on me."
She nods in reply, and allows him to corner her back towards the pillows.
"I don't want or need you to be gentle," she said, her eyes glazed.
Tyler shrugged his head, his brows taut with concern. "I don't want to hurt you."
She was about to protest when he continued, pressing his forehead against hers. "Your weird fascination with personal suffering aside, I want to make this as painless as possible. For both of us. Alright?"
Upon her nod, he led her backwards, his hand on her upper back breaking her fall. He situated himself comfortably between her legs and waited for her to lay completely still, her smooth hand holding onto his shoulder.
Tyler moved his mouth against her jawline, pressing a gentle kiss there before pecking her on the lips.
"I'm just gonna let you feel me, all right?"
She nodded, and he gripped his length, positioning himself against her upper thigh.
The tip prodded at her inner thigh until it reached her vulva, brushing lightly against her. Biting her lip, Wednesday squeezed Tyler's shoulders, her nails embedded into his skin. He hissed slightly at the contact, angling himself lower.
When she felt him against her clit, a gasp escaped her mouth, the bud still sensitive from her earlier orgasm.
Tyler rubbed himself against her, gathering slickness from her entrance and bringing it upwards.
Feeling impatient, she rocked her hips against him, attempting to meet his thrusts with her own.
He didn't discourage her, instead moving his mouth to her neck to press kisses against her throat.
After a few minutes, Wednesday was increasingly wet, her lower thighs dripping with need. Satisfied with her readiness, Tyler leaned back to watch her face.
Her eyes were shut, so he kissed her eyelids briefly. "Open your eyes for me," he whispered.
When her dark brown eyes met his hazel ones, he brushed hair away from her face.
"You sure?" he asked, one final time.
If he hadn't been inches away from her face, he might have missed her breathy response. "Please."
Tyler hitched her thigh upwards, holding it to his side as he gripped her waist. His other hand reached to position himself against her entrance.
"Hook your ankle around me," Tyler said. "That way you can be in control of how much you take."
She did as told, bracing herself to have him within her.
And then he was.
At first, she only felt the pressure of him against her, but as he inched the head past the initial elasticity of her entrance, she felt an intense burning. It was mildly discomforting, but still manageable.
Tyler's brows were furrowed in concentration, and what read as definite concern, even worry.
She nodded at him to let him know it was okay to keep going, pressing her heel into his back to take him further. The burning briefly turned into a sharp pinch which radiated through her body as she took the entirety of his tip inside of her. At some point, she felt unable to take him further, and assumed she had reached the widest part of him, just a few inches below the head.
Tyler pulled out gently, rubbing himself against her clit again.
Hoping to distract her, he cupped her face and kissed her as he moved against her, toying with her entrance.
After a second, he tried again, pressing into her and shifting her other leg to widen her hips. This time, he was able to slide further, the thickest bulge of his length stretching her deliciously open.
He watched her face to evaluate her discomfort, seeing her eyes shut in pain killing him silently. He still couldn't believe she trusted her first time to be with him, and felt slightly guilty for his size, which was usually a source of pride for him, as much as it was humbling to admit.
When he pulled out again, he did not remove himself all the way, instead withdrawing to the tip and thrusting back inside of her slowly.
The lowest part of her ached as she struggled to take more of him, the burning sensation still present though the pinch was long gone.
Slowly, she was able to take more of him, her heel fixed at his lower back, pressing into him with assurance.
Finally, when he was able to bottom out, Tyler let out a deep groan, nearly toppling over. She was so small, her entrance so narrow, he honestly doubted she'd be able to fit him entirely inside of her.
“You’re taking me so well, Wednesday,” he cooed, his breath against her ear.
She preened at the praise, almost smiling. Suddenly, she was glad she hadn't remained on all fours, grateful Tyler allowed her control of the pace and depth to which she took him. After a minute, his thrusting inside of her began to feel less like burning, and more like... perpetual heat. He rocked inside of her rhythmically, his own hips not quite meeting hers.
Unable to hone in on one specific thought, still attempting to process exactly what she was feeling as he quickened his pace, a moan escaped her mouth against her better judgement. Then, another guttural, inherently primal sound she tried to choke down.
Tyler chuckled against her neck, his hand caressing her hip. "Good?" he asked.
"Yes," she replied, her voice breathier than usual.
“Taking me so fucking good,” he muttered. "Can feel how relaxed you are now."
She was still tight, her grip around him tense, but her muscles no longer rejected the intrusion. The more relaxed she became, the deeper he could go.
Her eyes gave away her surrender to pleasure, rolled slightly into the back of her head as he moved her other leg around him and thrusted upwards, her ankles locked in place around his waist. At this angle, the curve of him rocked against her g-spot, stimulating her internally.
His pace was erratic now, his hips menacing as he took his fill. Based on her clenching around him, he could tell she was close.
Wednesday whined, desperate to chase that unfamiliar feeling she was experiencing, this approaching orgasm different in. nature to those she had alone from her favorite toys. It sparked from deep within her, clawing its way out impatiently.
"Are you gonna come for me baby girl?"
"Tyler," she moaned, lifting herself off the bed. The building pressure was too much, becoming increasingly uncomfortable.
"That's right, baby," he praised. "Say my name just like that. Say my name while you come."
He could tell she wasn't quite there yet, so he continued, "You like that?" he bit against her throat.
"You like the way I tell you how well you take my cock?" he asked. She preened, grabbing for his curls as she groaned in response.
"You like how hard I am for you? How thick?" This is how hard I always am for you," he groaned.
She reached up to his face, her thumb landing on his bottom lip, pushing it inside of his mouth.
He wanted to bite her, to mark her finger with the indentations of his teeth. He wanted to make her his.
Wednesday was writhing, her entire body shaking violently.
Tyler was practically pleading with her now. "Be a good girl, and come"
She groaned, thrusting herself upwards and into his arms. He caught her, pulling her legs around him as he fucked her on his knees.
Her eyes rolled into the back of her head as she sat on his thighs, waiting for his release, his name leaving her mouth repeatedly, like a song.
His pace was punishing, thrusting upwards into her roughly, lowering her onto his dick again and again. His eyes shut, his lip still under her touch.
"So good," she moaned, attempting to get him off with words alone. "You feel so good."
Tyler nearly came at her praise, biting roughly at the tip of her finger.
As he got closer and closer, Wednesday's voice rang through his mind.
"Please, Tyler. Please."
And with her pleads, he came.
As they wound down, Tyler laid her onto the bed and requested she stay put. Wednesday obliged, and Tyler left to grab a clean washcloth from his bathroom and a clean t-shirt from his closet. He threw her the t-shirt, as he moved to begin cleaning between her legs. When he tugged the soft material away, he did so quickly, fisting it into his hands so she couldn't get a glimpse.
His jaw ticked and she pouted. "Why are you making that face?" she asked, deadpan, as she threw the t-shirt over her head.
"I was too rough with you," he replied, his voice rough.
She sat up, reaching for his wrist and grabbing the washcloth for herself. There was a bit of blood mixed with her sticky secretions, typical and not surprising to her whatsoever.
"You weren't rough with me, Tyler," she replied, laying back down.
"I hurt you," he said, his eyes shut with remorse.
"No," she responded, rolling her eyes.
"I'm so sorry."
Wednesday exhaled, cleaning Tyler off and removing the condom from him slowly.
"Stop feeling so sorry for yourself," she implored. "I'm fine."
She moved backwards slighly, and he grabbed her thigh.
"Let me make it up to you," he asked.
She quirked her brow at him.
"I want to make you feel good. Please."
He was seriously pushing his luck, but she indulged him.
Tyler leaned in, using both of his hands to grab her face and kiss her. She allowed his tongue to enter her mouth gently, fitting them together as she moved backwards.
"I'm feeling famished suddenly," Tyler whispered against her mouth. "Need to taste you again."
Wednesday shivered, laying back down. She was slightly self-conscious, knowing she had bled a bit and that he might taste it as he moved between her legs, but there was something sexy about it, too.
When his tongue reached her folds again, his mouth gentle against her still sensitive clit, she hummed in satisfaction.
He kissed the top of her vulva, murmuring into her, "You taste even better freshly fucked."
She writhed, moving her hands to his hair while he ate her out like she was his last meal on Earth.
Convinced his tongue would atrophy, she almost took pity on him when her orgasm took longer to arrive this time around. But Tyler hadn't noticed, flattening his tongue and inserting it within her, curling it upwards and licking up every drop of secretion.
As he licked her, he moved his dominant hand up her shirt to her chest, reaching to grab at her breast. Pinching her nipples between his thumb and forefinger, he heard Wednesday moan and felt her clench around his mouth
"Come right on my tongue baby," he encouraged, pulling away only just so to give her permission.
His other hand moved to grab hers that was fisting at the sheets, intertwining their fingers together.
"I need you," she whispered, her hips bucking. Suddenly she was desperate to have more than just his tongue inside of her. Her pussy ached at the feeling of his length being removed, and she craved to have him again.
She came with a gasp, her orgasm moving through her like a thunderclap, hitting hard and reverberating through her body. Tyler was there to tongue fuck her through her finish, pinching her nipples and squeezing her hand as he finished sucking her dry.
When he pulled away from her finally, Wednesday used her knees to tuck under his arms and bring him back up towards her. She laved at his mouth, licking his lips into her mouth and sucking on his tongue. It was so hot, watching her taste herself on his mouth, Tyler couldn't bear to close his eyes.
"I want you," Wednesday asked, her eyes pleading.
Tyler groaned. Sure, his refractory period was better than others his age, thanks to his supernatural powers which had him ready almost all the time to breed, but she was definitely going to kill him at this rate.
Gazing up at him now, her eyes were hungry, and she bit her lip, grinding against his leg.
"You want.. more?" he asked, sputtering slightly in surprise. "Already?"
She nodded, her hands traveling to his thighs.
Smiling, he leaned in to kiss her again, trailing his tongue against her bottom lip before taking it between his own. She returned his kiss with further, leaning forward to straddle him, her knees on either side of his hips.
His brows furrowed as his smile grew wider, "you wanna ride me, Wednesday baby?"
She nodded at him, grinding herself lightly against his thigh. He chuckled, tugging her by the braids back against his mouth.
He leaned a hand down to where his oversized t-shirt met her thighs. He tugged on the material lightly, looking down to see how much coverage she would get while taking him from the top. The shirt was long enough to cover where the two would meet, and he frowned at the realization.
"Typically I like to watch what's happening here," he teased, his hand making its way to her center, "But I suppose I can make an exception."
She smirked at him, tugging at his boxers and attempting to take them off. She found success, trailing them off of his legs before widening her hips, straddling him once again. He grabbed her by the waist, his tongue finding its way into her mouth eagerly. She reached between them to find his half-hard cock, stroking gently.
Reaching over to the left, Tyler grabbed another condom from his bedside table, tearing at the plastic with his teeth as Wednesday withdrew the rubber circle, her brows furrowed in concentration. Her bare pussy was seated on top of him, and he twitched beneath her. She leaned upwards onto her knees, fumbling with the condom before Tyler took pity on her, taking it out of her hands before flipping it and rolling it onto himself, jerking himself off for a few moments to get him fully ready for a good fuck. She watched the movements of his hand, aching to touch him, and he withdrew.
She reached for the tip, now covered in latex, her touch gentle. Too gentle.
"A little more," he encouraged, leaning back with his arms behind his head.
She gripped him further down, applying more pressure and he smiled, feeling himself grow thick under her hand.
Wednesday situated herself above him, bringing his cock to her clit to rub against herself the same way he did before. Her expression was curious, but unsure, so Tyler sat up a bit, leaning against his pillow.
"That's it," he encouraged, bringing a hand to her face. "Gotta make sure you're ready for me."
She ignored his words, but brought the tip to her entrance where she was dripping.
"Fuck," he breathed, feeling how wet she was in anticipation for him. "Go slow, okay?"
She wanted to take him to the root, eager to fight against his wary instruction, but she knew logistically that she was still relatively sore from their last round. Instead, she lowered herself onto him, feeling slightly frustrated when a bit of discomfort arose within her.
"S'okay," he assured her, kissing her on the forehead. "It's still new to your body. Takes a minute to adjust."
Wednesday wanted to smack his know-it-all attitude off, but decided she would wait to smother him between her legs later on as her form of payback.
Reaching between them, Tyler rubbed at her clit with his thumb. Slowly, she was able to take more of him, until finally she was seated and he was buried completely inside of her.
She felt full, her insides clenching around him, making enough room for her to be comfortable. There was a dull ache where the tip of him met her deep inside and she made a face, pulling away suddenly. She figured he must have been hitting her cervix, and pulled herself gently away, lifting her lips to thrust against him.
Tyler was looking up at her in awe, his hands moving to grip at her ass. “Look at you, sitting pretty on my cock," he praised.
Wednesday felt proud of herself, moving gently on top of him, trying to find a steady rhythm. He helped her, using his leverage from beneath to thrust upwards.
"If your legs get tired just let me know," he smirked. "I'm more than happy to take over."
Feeling slightly uncomfortable and overwhelmed at the prospect of having to set the pace, she nearly took him up on the offer. But then, she placed her hands on his shoulders and got to work, bouncing up and down on top of him, finding a natural rhythm. It was as if her body took over, knowing exactly what to do. At this angle, she took him deeper than before. At the feeling of his thumb against her clit again, she gasped. "Tyler," she moaned.
He thrust upwards, digging his heels into the mattress for leverage, holding her waist and pounding into her, meeting her thrust for thrust from his position on the bottom. She was so gorgeous like this, her head thrown back, her hands gripping at his shoulders. She was biting her lip, her eyes crossed as she watched his face.
He leaned upwards, meeting her forehead with his own. "Seeing you in my shirt on top of me is making me lose my mind right now."
She was moving against him, riding him deliciously as he assisted her. He wasn't sure, but he was sure she cursed under her breath, muttering a soft "Fuck" when he circled her clit again.
“Want you to come all over my cock,” he muttered. "Want you to come all over me like this."
Wednesday was gasping now, fighting hard against the orgasm that was threatening to overtake her. "Please," she begged. "More."
But she didn't need more, she was already there. "I can feel you clenching around me," he told her, his free hand moving to the back of her neck as he fucked her. "I know you're close baby. Just let go."
She whined, then released, her legs turning to jelly on top of him. Her vaginal walls contracted, and he smirked, holding her in place as he continued to rock into her.
"That's right," he forced out. "Take all of it baby. It's all yours."
His cock was hers now. He couldn't imagine fucking anyone else like this ever again, just the gorgeous spooky girl above him, still vibrating around him as she came, out of breath from her intense orgasm.
Lifting the shirt between them to see where they met, Tyler groaned. His pelvis was glistening with her come, and the squelching coming from where they met was pure sex to his ears.
"Fuck, I can't hold back," he said, kissing her on the mouth as he let himself go.
She moaned at the feeling of his cock twitching inside of her, coming down from both of their highs gently, and pulling off of him. She grabbed the washcloth on the counter from earlier as he removed the condom, tying it off and tossing it into the trashcan. She cleaned herself up before laying down with exhaustion.
Tyler smiled before grabbing his own washcloth, attempting to wipe the mix of come and lube from the condom off of his length. He threw himself onto the bed face forward, tugging Wednesday into his chest with an arm around her waist.
"Uh uh," Wednesday protested, "Put on some boxers. I won't have that touching me in the middle of the night."
He rolled his eyes and groaned, getting up to throw on a fresh pair of boxers. "Don't pretend you don't love it."
"Get off your high horse and go to sleep," she grunted.
"I'm pretty sure it was you who just climbed off your high horse," he said, making his way back into the bed and shoving his face into his pillow. "A pretty big one I might add. You should see the sizes of the other guys here at Nevermore. Every time I get a glimpse in the locker room-"
Wednesday used the pillow on her side of the bed to hit him. "Would you shut up? I'm beginning to regret knocking on your door."
He giggled before quieting down, waiting a few minutes before reaching for her. To his surprise, she allowed him to pull her close against his chest.
Before they both drifted off to sleep, he whispered, "I'm so glad you did."
Wednesday woke up just before dawn to a kiss at her bare shoulder. It took a moment to process, being in someone else's bed, her legs tangled with another person's, let alone the intimacy of having someones mouth connected to her skin.
She indulged in the comfort for a moment, leaning into Tyler's hold slightly, craning her head to allow him access to her neck.
"I didn't mean to wake you," he whispered.
She turned to him, removing her legs from his own and creating a distance between them as she faced him.
Instead of responding, she blinked, attempting to make out the true color of his eyes, map the pores across his face, the curls against his forehead. She was so tired, so sated. His eyes were filled with want, entirely focused on her. She let her eyes flutter closed, attempting to fall back asleep when she felt Tyler's fingers brush against her own.
"I don't want this night to be over," he admitted quietly.
She exhaled deeply, "It's already morning," she grumbled.
"Technically, it's still dark out," he whispered back.
Wednesday peered one eye open, holding back a smirk. She never knew Tyler to be so insatiable, though she couldn't say she was much better. She wanted a few seconds before shutting her eyes again, and leaning into him. "Then you better make sufficient use of the time you have left."
He didn't wait a second, pressing his mouth against hers hungrily.
"I don't want you to go," he sighed.
She nudged his nose with her own. "I'm still here."
Tyler reached for her waist, pulling her against him as he kissed her deeply. He ran his hand underneath her shirt, touching the soft skin of her waist, savoring every second of their passionate embrace.
He could feel himself getting harder, his morning wood stiffening in his boxers. She reached between them, grabbing his dick through the cotton material, jerking him off slowly. He moaned into her mouth, pulling her tighter against his chest as she moved her hand, exploratory.
His hand reached for her cheek to pull her mouth closer against his, to angle the kiss better, to fulfill his primal desire to taste all of her, every inch.
"I want to take you like this," he said against her mouth, leaning her back against the bed.
He pulled away briefly to reach into his bedside table, his fingernails trailing the wooden interior of the drawer.
Suddenly, the air in the room felt cold, and Wednesday opened her eyes to see a panicked Tyler.
"What?" she asked.
"I d-" he paused, searching for the right words. "We used the last of the condoms."
She glanced at him through furrowed brows, "Come back," she said softly, "we don't need them."
His mouth fell open in surprise as he glanced back at the drawer, waiting for another condom to magically appear before him. He cursed himself for only grabbing a handful from the Student Infirmary instead of purchasing a whole box himself.
Impatient, Wednesday sat up from her position on the bed. "I'm protected," she assured him, "I have the implant, and I can easily contact my mother for her favorite herbal contraceptive brew. Not to mention I'm outside of my fertile window."
Her response was through, but it still stopped Tyler in his tracks.
“I’ve never done it raw before,” he said, leaning back down onto the bed. When he sat back down, Wednesday leaned in for a kiss, and he obliged her.
"First time for everything," she quipped back.
He smiled against her mouth, pulling her towards him.
When they made their way back onto the bed, Tyler tugged gently at her opposite waist, turning her around. Now, her back was against his front, similar to how they woke up together. Tyler reached down between Wednesday's legs, his hand reaching for the damp material of her panties with a cupped palm. She leaned against him as he touched her, baring her neck for his open-mouthed kisses. He left deep, purple marks in his wake as he felt her.
Removing his boxers, her ground himself against the skin of her backside, kicking them off his feet before tossing them off the bed.
She did the same, removing her panties slowly, leaning backwards into him as she reached down for the lacy material at her ankles, grounding her backside against his erection.
"Hold on," Tyler chuckled. "Have a little patience, would you?"
"You're one to talk about patience," Wednesday bit back, "waking me up before sunrise for some action."
He shushed her before kissing her ear, pulling her against him, and gripping himself at the base.
Wednesday reached behind her, placing her hand on top of Tyler's, working towards the tip to bring him closer to her entrance.
She was wet, ready for him, and he bit down on her shoulder as he entered her.
“Fuck," he cursed under his breath, gritting his teeth in focus. "I can feel all of you”
She could feel him too, every ridge of his cock inside of her, the protruding vein down the side of him stretching her open wide.
When he was fully inside of her, she hummed in pleasure, rocking backwards towards him desperately.
Tyler was still quiet, a raspy, stuttering mess. "I'm not gonna last like this," he forced out.
Wednesday smiled, bringing the arm that was around her midsection down to her clit. He responded in haste, circling her clit with his fingers, using the slick between them to massage against her.
"A little lower," she directed him, placing a hand just above his own. "Circles."
He took her instructions intently, circling her clit with his fingers as he thrust himself inside of her. At this angle, his pelvic bone met her soft backside roughly, creating a delicious slapping noise.
"Feels so good," she gasped, reaching behind both of them to pull at his waist, attempting to get him deeper. "Need more."
God, if she wanted more, he would give it to her. He would give her anything she wanted at this point.
"You don't even know what you do to me," Tyler groaned against her neck, nipping at her ear "how badly I'm trying to keep it together so I don't paint your insides white. I swear to god."
She moaned in reply, bucking her hips backwards. He could tell that she was close, her legs shaking as he moved his fingers from circles to simple up and down movements, applying more pressure.
"Oh fuck," he groaned, the clench of Wednesday's impending orgasm around him driving him absolutely crazy. He was on the verge of his own orgasm at this rate, and he slowed the movements of his hand to time their climaxes together. "Oh fuck, Wednesday, I'm gonna come."
She was breathing hard, taking as much as she was giving, her head leaned back against him as she turned her face. He moved his mouth to her own, kissing her roughly. "I'm gonna come inside of you," he whispered against her mouth
Wednesday's eyes were dark, her lashes long. "Stop talking and do it," she grit out, clenching intentionally around him as she shifted downwards, taking him to the hilt. "You're so chatty when you fuck. Have you ever noticed that?"
Suddenly, he pulled out, and she nearly bit his head off.
"Yeah?" he asked, his expression humored. "Get on all fours. I've changed my mind."
She shivered at his words, moving to get on her hands and knees reluctantly.
Feeling him behind her, she gasped when he tugged at her braids. "Want you to watch yourself in the mirror," he muttered.
From this angle, she could see them both in the mirror in front of them, even with the darkness in the room hiding most of the details from view.
Tyler pulled her against him hard, entering her without pause and fucking her roughly from behind. They both looked hard into the mirror to watch each other, entirely blissed out, their mouths open, gasping for air.
"You're gonna take all my come?" he asked. "You wanna take it like this?"
She nodded roughly, and he lost control. Suddenly there was a wave of warmth inside of her as she tightened hard around him, her orgasm fierce. He filled her to the brim, pumping his load within her as he held her hips against his own. He moaned at the feeling of his own release, compounded by hers. Fucking her bare had done wild things to him, and he was less than shocked that it took less than ten minutes for him to come. Them coming together though? That was an unanticipated surprise.
He had acknowledged that the act of a simultaneous orgasm was not one based in logistical reality, porn selling incredibly unrealistic standards for partner sex. But he and Wednesday had been so in sync, in a way, them coming together felt similar to a consummation, a symbolic representation of how good a pair they were for each other. He was able to read her body and guide her to orgasm along with his own, and suddenly felt overcome with a sense of pride in having fucked the girl of his dreams through to completion multiple times.
She collapsed forward into the bed, and he watched his come leak out of her and onto the sheets.
"Fuck," he muttered, moving to find the washcloth they had used before, but it had disappeared.
Wednesday was out of breath, curled into herself like a fetus.
Tyler glanced upwards and noticed the beam of sun coming through his small window. Sunrise. His time with her was over, and the realization hit him like a bullet to the stomach.
He would know what a bullet to the stomach felt like, his father shooting him in his Hyde form less than two years ago. This was somehow even worse. They had fucked each other raw and now would be parting ways. To what future? He wasn't sure.
His cautious eyes moved to Wednesday, who was still on her side, her eyes shut, her cheeks flushed and her mouth parted. She was still catching her breath. He moved to find the pair of boxers he discarded before their latest round, moving to clean his come that was dripping down her thighs now.
"Are you okay?" he asked the girl, moving to tuck her braids behind her shoulder and get a better look at her face. She was quiet, but he still heard her.
"Yeah."
They both lay there for a moment, recovering, the sun peaking through more and more, daylight imminent.
"I'm not prepared for us to be strangers again," he whispered in the space between them.
Wednesday froze.
"What did you say?" she asked, her eyes suddenly wide open, filled with trepidation.
Tyler exhaled. He was not prepared to have this conversation, and didn't know why he said it. He knew the terms to their agreement, he knew this was supposed to be sex and nothing else, but the knowledge didn't make him feel any less sick.
"I don't want to be strangers again," he gulped. "I know we have been a lot of different things to each other, but strangers has been the worst. These two years? Have been the worst."
Wednesday's eyes were shut again as she curled further into herself than before.
"I hate not being able to talk to you, to touch you. I hate not being able to kiss you."
She grit her response through her teeth, "that's not who we are to each other anymore."
"Then who are we?" he asked, his voice shot. "Who are we to each other? What are we doing right now?"
There was a pause before he continued, this time, his tone was strained. "What have I done?"
He moved his elbows to his knees, leaning over his bed and settling his hands in his hair. Out of no where, tears began to flow. This was utterly humiliating, he thought. He had just dicked Wednesday Addams down within an inch of both of their sanity, and was now an emotional wreck, bawling his eyes out while his come was still dripping from her. Sex had made him feel incredibly vulnerable, that he already knew. So why did he think he could take Wednesday up on her offer without it ruining him?
Wednesday sat up, allowing his words to sink in. Her blood ran ice cold at his word choice.
We have been a lot of different things to each other, but strangers has been the worst.
Immediately, she was brought back to her cello final, the unwelcome, overzealous tears that fell from her eyes as she played. She thought of the emotions that overtook her, the anger she felt towards Tyler.
It was almost as if fucking him had dissipated that anger, as if the resolved sexual tension had made her feel better about his betrayal. But she couldn't forgive him. It went against her own fundamental principles, and choosing to make nice just because he took her virginity and brought her to orgasm countless times was too cliche, too common.
We weren't strangers, she wanted to say, I still loved you.
But Wednesday Addams was not a liar, and she knew not to say something so egregiously untrue.
Still, she wanted to comfort him, to kiss away his tears, to take him back to bed and make love to him until the end of time.
Feeling somewhat broken, she gathered herself and found her footing, standing her two feet on the ground and making her way over to the floor to find her clothes.
Tyler sobbed, pulling his head out from between his knees. "Please, Please don't go."
Wednesday had finished putting on her shirt, her vest. She moved to grab at her skirt when he caught her wrist.
"Please, Wednesday," he begged. "I love you."
She swallowed, tears rushing to her eyes and her throat feeling tight.
"I can't," she whispered. "I-"
He pulled her against his chest, and she let herself cry.
"I'm so sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry. Please forgive me."
She gripped him tight, burying her face into his skin.
There were conversations to have, questions to be answered, but they could wait.
The two held each other tight on the floor of Tyler's bedroom, the sun illuminating both of them through the window, blaring through the glass.
While they had gone from strangers, to friends, to lovers, only time would tell if they would become strangers again.