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Cutting class so early into the semester should have given Wednesday pause. Stealing her roommate’s driver’s education permission slip and absconding with the instructor’s car to visit Willow Hill should have been a blaring red stop sign. In fact, everything about her plan should have made her stomp on the brakes, but she’d decided on a course of action. Once Wednesday Addams made a decision, she didn’t second-guess or hesitate. She gunned it through every red light.
That was why Fester was currently disabling the security system at Willow Hill, with Thing’s assistance. Wednesday had prepared a dose of elephant tranquilizers, and was waiting in an orderly’s laundry cart for the signal.
Despite skipping school to visit Tyler Galpin in his cell at Willow Hill, she did in fact plan to get away with his kidnapping and murder overnight and return to classes the next day. Therefore, it was critical that she not be caught on video, and that she not be seen. The orderly deposited the cart of dirty linens in the laundry room, and began to walk away.
Wednesday’s hand snuck out to snag his keycard, and he left the room without a backward glance. As the door shut, Wednesday clambered out of the cart; her best bet was to fit in, so she glanced around the laundry room, finding a fresh, white staff uniform. She’d just pulled on the jumpsuit when Thing knocked on the door in a familiar rhythm.
Two bits.
He jumped into the laundry cart, and she wheeled them down, using her borrowed keycard and the passcodes she’d memorized from her earlier visit to access the secure levels. From there, it was shockingly easy to break into Tyler Galpin’s cell and free him. When Wednesday arrived at the subterranean prison where Tyler was being held, she found Fester wearing a security guard’s uniform, whistling a jaunty tune and tossing the remote to Tyler’s shock collar from hand to hand.
“Never used one of these before.” Fester held onto the remote as they walked to the glass, observing Tyler asleep in his cot. He wore different restraints, not tied to the wall, but to his bed, which was surely welded to the floor.
“Use it now. We don’t have time for a fight.” They had only ten more minutes before the loop in the security footage would end. They needed to be out of the gates by then, and ideally halfway to Raven Island.
Her uncle’s lack of eyebrows shot up. “You sure? He looks so peaceful.”
Tyler’s back was to the room beyond, and Wednesday noticed that he didn’t use the blanket, leaving the bedding beneath him. It had been cold in the basement level when she’d visited, and it was even more chilled now that night had fallen. He didn’t look peaceful to her.
“You knew a Hyde once. Did she ever stop being a predator?”
His answering grin was enough to tell her the answer was never.
As Wednesday approached the cell, Tyler began to stir. Her uncle had handed Thing the remote. A poor decision, since Thing had always had a soft spot for the Hyde. Wednesday was almost upon him with the syringe when Thing finally shocked him.
She ignored the cry of pain he let out at the shock, waiting until just after the electricity had left his system. With one swift movement, she plunged the syringe into Tyler’s neck and depressed the plunger. The sedative she’d chosen was powerful enough to down two Hydes. Shuddering once more, Tyler collapsed in on himself. He’d be passed out cold for longer than they’d need to transport and secure him in Crackstone’s crypt.
The extraction was nearly as smooth as getting into the facility. Everything was going to plan. Fester helped her roll Tyler into the laundry cart, and she covered him with the linens. In the same wing as the laundry room, there was a loading dock where deliveries of produce and bulk items arrived for the cafeteria. She and Fester separated as he went to illegally obtain a vehicle from the staff parking lot.
With her nemesis securely in the back of a green Saturn sedan that should have been junked twenty years prior, Wednesday drove out of Willow Hill for the second time that day. The car was one of the orderlies’ and the guards didn’t bat an eye, just waving them through the gates.
“Remind me why we’re kidnapping your ex-honey?” Fester asked between grunts as they parked off Lake Jericho and struggled with Tyler’s heavy, limp form. Getting him into a canoe was much harder than rolling him into a cart, but they managed.
It wasn’t as if being a little bruised would matter. He’d be dead as soon as the sedatives wore off.
“He’s going to kill Enid. I saw it in a vision.” That wasn’t entirely true, but Wednesday was capable of putting two and two together. A threat from a homicidal Hyde wasn’t anything to sniff at. “I’m going to make sure he can’t do that.”
Wednesday wanted to look him in the eyes when she ended it.
Pushing off the boat, Wednesday hopped in while Fester rowed. Tyler’s listless form lolled in the middle of the canoe. Without more room, Wednesday had to sit next to his head, irritated at how warm he was against her thigh.
Thing, riding on Fester’s shoulder, gestured, pointing out that visions could be fallible.
“I already have a mother, Thing. I wasn’t asking to be nagged by another.”
Pausing, Fester let the canoe drift, pulling up the oars. “Now, I know I’m not the disciplinarian type of uncle. You and Pugsley were already far past that when I met you.”
“I don’t require discipline, I require assistance.” Since when did her feckless uncle develop a backbone? He’d always gone along with her plans without question.
Fester crossed his arms. “Why don’t you just slit his throat now and drop him into the lake? Lord knows he’s heavy enough, you probably don’t even need to weigh him down.”
Gritting her teeth, Wednesday moved forward to take the oars. Which left her sitting on Tyler’s unconscious body, but she was determined to get a move on. “That’s not the plan.”
With an effort, she got them moving again, heading into the narrow pass where she’d once downed Bianca and the Goldbugs’ boat. She had worse memories of this lake, of Raven Island, but she would choose to focus on her triumphs. Because that’s what would happen here. She would kill Tyler, and return to her life, her focus returned, her visions normal once more.
Because he was the lynchpin to all her problems. Without him, the wrinkles would smooth themselves out.
Thing objected once more, trying to appeal to her sense of honor. ‘You want to kill him like this? Helpless?’
“Of course not. He’ll be awake to know that I was the one who took him down. And he’ll know exactly why.”
“And why is that?” Fester narrowed his eyes.
The shore was near, and Wednesday was all too happy to tie up the boat and end the conversation. But Thing had decided he’d had enough. He refused to leave the boat, a conscientious objector to her plan.
Fine then. I didn’t need you anyways.
At least Fester was willing to help her drag Tyler to Crackstone’s crypt, but as the manacles closed around Tyler’s wrists, she saw an unfamiliar look in her uncle’s features. Guilt.
“Really, Fester? He tried to kill me. He’s going to kill Enid if I don’t stop him.”
He shook his head. “I’m out, kid. I’m a thief, not a cold-blooded killer. You can always chop the body up into little pieces if you can’t move him yourself after.” She could tell by his tone that he believed she would do it, but just didn’t have the stomach to participate.
Wednesday felt irrationally angry. She wasn’t certain her bravado would hold without a witness. “Need I remind you that he’s a serial killer?”
“You took care of the Kansas City Scalper without resorting to murder.” Fester put up his hands. “I’m not saying ‘thou shall not kill.’ I’m an Addams, after all. But something about this doesn’t feel right.”
Voice low, she threatened, “You’re still an accessory.”
Fester backed out of the crypt, shaking his head. “That’s me. I’m an accessory, like a little dog in a handbag. And just as useless from here on out. If you really wanna do this, you gotta face it yourself.”
The crypt door closed behind him, all too final. At least he’d helped her put Tyler into place, chained where she’d been held last year. The shock collar was an assurance she hoped she wouldn’t need, putting the remote into her pocket. They hadn’t been able to get him up to standing, so they’d leaned him at the top of the stairs, chained to an iron carapace that was embedded into the concrete around the fluted columns.
She hadn’t been truly alone in a room with Tyler since the last time she’d had him chained to a chair in Xavier’s shed. Even then, she hadn’t said what she really felt. Wednesday had wanted to let the pain do the talking. And they’d been interrupted, all too unfortunately, by the police. That wouldn’t happen again.
No one knew she was here except Fester and Thing, and they wouldn’t stop her. They’d lodged their complaints, and left her to make her own choices. Enid had been fed an appropriate excuse for her absence, and Pugsley would cover for her with her parents. Her alibis were aligned in case it came to an investigation.
Which it wouldn’t. Wednesday had mastered the minutiae of body disposal at a young age. Tyler Galpin’s body would never be found, and she would never be linked to his disappearance.
The plan was going smoothly. Even without further assistance from Fester, she could easily finish the job. Her quillon dagger was sharpened and ready for the killing blow. She’d slide it between his ribs and into his thoracic cavity. He’d bleed out internally, his heart slowing, and blood filling his lungs. The amount of blood on the floor would be minimal. Since she could no longer move him, the blood would fall over the bloodstain from Crackstone stabbing her.
It felt fitting that he’d take his last breath where she’d nearly perished.
As Tyler began to wake up, Wednesday felt herself tense, her hand going automatically to the remote in her pocket. She wasn’t scared of his Hyde powers, not really. Once she’d found out he was the Hyde, what little fear she’d felt for his creature side had dissipated.
For all his threats, he was still Tyler.
Fester had been right, back at Willow Hill. He did look peaceful, in the dim lantern light. His lashes fluttered against his cheeks, as his head lolled back, half-conscious. He looked young, almost angelic, his relaxed features hiding the killer beneath.
It was logical, in some ways, that he’d tricked her. She wasn’t above the allure of teenage hormones. Besides that, he’d treated her like a person, smiling at her antics rather than frowning like everyone else. Still, the weakness felt like a sinking stone in her gut, a weight chained to her that she couldn’t shake.
She knew the weakness was still there because she stepped forward, cupping his chin in her hand, tipping his gaze towards her. Warm light from the lantern wavered, reflected in his eyes as his pupils adjusted.
“Wednesday?” It was the same way he’d said her name when he’d awoken in the shed. How he could summon his acting abilities so quickly into consciousness was beyond her. The manipulation made her push him away, stepping back.
Crossing her arms, she paced in front of him, waiting for him to ask why he was here. Silence stretched between them, membranous and palpable. All he did was tilt his head at her, his stare as sharp as her dagger.
“Do you know why you’re here?” Wednesday didn’t expect this, to be monologuing at him. But his only response was to cock a grin at her, still staring. He narrowed his eyes, and she had to break his gaze.
Swallowing, she searched for words. Given how verbose he’d been in his cell at Willow Hill, she’d expected him to mouth off, to say something that would give her the permission to slip the blade between his ribs.
“I said: do you know why you’re here?” Frustration was evident in her voice, her face flushing with unexpected anger. And still he sat there, no longer angelic, but impishly grinning at her. He was Puck personified, a creator of chaos in her life, teasing her without even saying a word.
Pulling the quillon from its sheath, Wednesday stepped towards him once more, this time pressing her blade against the line of his jaw, standing nearly between his legs. A bead of blood crawled down the sharpened steel, but Tyler never looked down. His eyes pierced hers as surely as the edge of her blade had pierced his skin.
“I brought you here to kill you.” The words felt half-hearted with the line of his calf pressing against hers, his warmth as beckoning as the smile her words brought to his face.
His throat moved as he laughed, causing another rivulet of blood to trail down his neck. They’d fetched him from Willow Hill sans shirt, and the blood pooled in his clavicle, below the bulk of the shock collar. An errant thought pricked her, to follow the trail with her tongue, tasting his smooth skin and the metallic bite of his blood.
“If you really wanted me dead you wouldn’t have gone through all the hassle of breaking me out.” Tyler’s eyes were half-lidded; whether it was from the remainder of the sedatives or because he felt the same frisson of intimacy, she wasn’t sure. Wednesday pulled the blade away, if only so that he’d stop tempting her.
“Everyone knows you perform the kill at a secondary location.” To her dismay, her voice was choked, defensive. Even totally helpless, he’d put her on her back foot, playing on her foolish desire for him.
The worst thing was, she hadn’t wanted him that way, not until the police station, when he’d pressed her to his body and asked her how it felt to lose. She’d shivered, every cell in her body trembling at the feeling of his breath on her ear. His warmth had felt like a furnace against the chill that ran through her body at his confession.
He’d made her helpless. And she’d liked it.
Wednesday had been chasing that feeling ever since, the way her desire followed fear like a shadow; each thrill in unraveling the mystery of the Hyde had felt like a shattering climax. Going after another serial killer hadn’t brought her there. It had only returned when she’d stepped into that cell in Willow Hill and came face to face with Tyler Galpin, rendered defenseless by him once more.
“Secondary location?” His tone was mocking. “Not me. But you knew that already, didn’t you?” He tilted his head at her again. The blood against his jawline only made it appear sharper. It was drying on his skin, reminding her of her vision.
That could be Enid’s blood if you don’t go through with this.
“I saw what you did to Dr. Kinbott.” He’d been covered in blood, then. Feral and panting with the effort of his transformation. When she’d gotten over the shock, those images came back to her with renewed context, fevered with the attraction that had blossomed anew, a dark bloom in a poison garden.
When Wednesday brought herself to orgasm, it wasn’t with fantasies of kisses or caresses that never happened. She replayed his worst moments, the places where the veneer of normie placability fell away. Tyler’s body against hers in the police station, him callously shoving past her while she was chained in the crypt, his hands fisting in her collar as he prepared to kill her.
He knew too much. Tyler licked his lips before speaking, and the motion drew her eyes, despite herself. “You mean the vision you had when we kissed.”
Her throat was as dry as the desert. He was slightly disheveled from their poor treatment of him while unconscious, sporting a bit of dirt from the woods and the crypt, and several bruises that matched his scars. They only added to his air of devilish charm. “Thankfully, I found out about your predilection for murdering innocents before it went any further.”
“Further?” Tyler threw his head back, incredulous. “What did you think I was going to do? Take you in the nearest booth?”
Wednesday’s heart thudded against her ribcage. No, it wasn’t what she’d thought. The Tyler she knew had been too sweet for that. But this Tyler wasn’t. He was all dark promises and rippling muscles and thoughts that she dared not entertain.
He’s my enemy. I need him dead so that Enid survives.
She changed the subject. “How did you plan to kill Enid?”
An irritating voice in the back of her mind reminded her that he’d never been the mastermind behind any plan, that he was a brute with claws and raw strength. That logic warred with her excuses for herself. If he was incompetent, then so was she, because he’d fooled her. If not for her visions, she’d have never known that he was the Hyde.
For the first time, Tyler moved the chains experimentally, looking around the crypt for a moment before returning his gaze to her. He looked almost disappointed. “Wednesday, do you really think I’d tell you that?”
He’s got nothing. There’s no plan. What if I kill him and the vision doesn’t change?
Wednesday needed more time to think. But she didn’t have that much more time. Properly managed body disposal wasn’t a quick process.
“Can I ask you a question?” At least he was finally talking. Her mind spinning, she nodded, if only to stall for time. He smiled at her, indulgent and patronizing. “Is this your first kill?”
“What? No.” Wednesday wanted to sheath her dagger, feeling useless just holding it without using it, but it already had Tyler’s blood on it. Instead, she paced, her nervous energy making her frantic. The grip of her quillon grew clammy in her palm.
That voice in the back of her head kept growing louder. Don’t kill him. Put the knife away.
“Really? Like the Weathervane wasn’t your first kiss?”
She turned back to him then, wondering how on earth the two were related.
“If you’re gonna kill me, I think it’s only fair that I get to know. I was your first kiss, right?”
Wednesday needed to sit; her pacing was only making her decision harder. She leaned against Crackstone’s sarcophagus, sliding down to the platform. It put her at eye level with Tyler, only a few feet separating them, her toes angled towards his. He was barefoot. She’d taken her shoes off so that they wouldn’t get bloody, but now she felt too vulnerable.
“I don’t see why you’d care.”
He shrugged, the chains clinking together faintly. “I like the idea of being your first. First kiss, first kill, first…” Trailing off, he let his eyes wander, tracing her body from her ankles, to her hips, to her breasts, finally settling on her lips.
Tyler looked at her like he was starving for her, mouth slightly open, chest heaving with every breath. She felt her own breathing grow more shallow, heat curling in her belly.
In her darkest moments, she’d thought of more than the few brief touches they’d shared, fantasized about him escaping Willow Hill and finding her in her room, prying her thighs open and having his way with her. She’d touched herself, knowing her fingers were a sorry replacement for his, barely filling her up.
“If you think that’s gonna happen, you’re more insane than I thought.” Her voice didn’t sound like her own, high and filled with breath, like her desire had expanded inside her and forced the very air from her lungs.
“A guy can dream.” He shifted his hips, as if uncomfortable on the stone, and Wednesday’s eyes were drawn to the motion. The sweatpants did little to hide the evidence of his lust. But his voice said it all, rich and low and slipping down her spine like the blade of a knife. “I’ve had a lot of time alone to think about how I’d like you.”
Despite herself, she found herself standing, moving closer. “So what? You’d get to be all my firsts. You’d still be dead.”
“They give everyone on Death Row a last meal.” He leered at her, eyes darting between her breasts and her center.
A flush started at her chest and crawled up her neck, as if she was growing heated from the inside. She resisted the urge to clamp her legs together, to seek friction. “And you want me to be yours?”
“What can I say? I missed the fruit cup at dinner tonight.”
“You’re certifiable.” Belying her words, she was toying with the buttons of the uniform, dagger in one hand, unable to keep the other still.
“And you’re wondering what it would feel like. If it would be as good as that kiss. Or as good as killing me.” He held his hands as far open as he could, chains rattling. “Good thing I’m running the three for one special tonight.”
“I’m not kissing you. And I’m not unchaining you.” It was a compromise. One she shouldn’t have been making. She undid the first few buttons of her jumpsuit. His eyes lit up like Christmas morning.
Wednesday was insane. They ought to have dragged her off to Willow Hill too. Before she could overthink it, she put the dagger on the sarcophagus and began pulling off the jumpsuit. She wore a thin thermal and leggings underneath, but Tyler was already looking at her like she was naked. He was hard, his cock straining against the seam of the sweatpants, leaving a small wet spot.
Screw the plan.
Before she knew it, she’d pulled off the rest of her clothes, kicking them aside, and reclaimed the dagger, striding towards him with an unfounded determination.
With a fist in his hair and a blade at his throat, panting and naked, she realized she had absolutely no idea what to do next. At least, not with him chained up. She’d known the shape of his hands so intimately and so early in their relationship from watching him work at the Weathervane, her fantasies had always involved him opening her up with his fingers.
“Let me eat you out, Wednesday.” The thought hadn’t even occurred to her. It should have, given how often she thought of his mouth. She released him, holding the dagger away, and he shimmied until he was flat on the platform, wrists still held in chains. He tilted his chin up in invitation.
Suddenly, Wednesday was glad the crypt was lit by only a single lantern. Her nudity felt obscene, but then she realized that two outcasts having sex in the bigoted puritan's crypt was an excellent way to defile Crackstone’s place of rest.
Still, coming to her knees by Tyler’s head left her feeling vulnerable and unsure. She was already shaking with trepidation by the time her bare skin hit the stone, contrasted by his heat as she sat on his chest. The bulk of the shock collar still covered his neck.
He looked up at her with unrestrained hunger. “You’re gonna have to come a little closer than that.”
She shifted forward. His breath was warm against her as she hovered over his mouth, waiting. Wednesday held onto the same iron carapace he was chained to, feeling like she was the one shackled and not him.
He started by licking a stripe down her center, and Wednesday gripped the iron more tightly, pushing down and seeking his friction. The strangled noise she made when he began to fuck her open with his tongue was far too encouraging, and he explored her anatomy in earnest, listening to her and learning quickly what she liked. Knowing that he was sporting his own blood from her dagger while licking her open made the image even more divine.
The more filthy his mouth grew, sloppy and all over her, the more confident she felt bearing down on him. His nose was practically buried in her clit, and he kept hitting it as his tongue dove into her, relentless.
Tyler groaned against her, and she felt herself grow hot, flushed, and desperate. Lifting off him, she took a moment to breathe, her knees digging into the stone and her chest heaving. He was breathing heavily too, but kept pressing kisses and bites into her thighs where he could reach her.
He pulled away from her sensitive inner thigh, having left a bruise there. “So you don’t forget me.” His curls were damp with sweat, and he was grinning at her like the cat caught in the cream.
If she let this go on any longer, she wasn’t going to be able to kill him.
She stood, her legs protesting and barely functional, while he sat up and swung his legs onto the lower stair, still wearing a smug smile. Wednesday couldn’t stand looking at his face another second, his mouth wet with her juices. Having already given up on any semblance of a plan, her promises of not kissing him felt just as unimportant.
Wednesday had reimagined their kiss at the Weathervane a million times, turning it chaste, turning it filthy, keeping it exactly as sweet as it had been and reveling in the pain it caused her. This kiss was new, honest in its simplicity. Her hand at his jaw, her taste on his tongue. It was raw, and it made her curious to taste him, to mingle everything until it wasn’t clear where she started and he began.
When she pulled away, his eyes were half-lidded, still focused on her lips. He tilted his head up for more, but she stopped him, holding his jaw firm. Kneeling down between his legs, Wednesday pulled at the waistband of his sweats. Tyler hissed as she exposed him to the cool crypt air.
When Wednesday made a decision, she didn’t make it by halves, so she bent down and took him in her mouth, surprised by the faintly salty taste of his pre-cum, and by the velvety soft feel of the skin. He let out a loud groan, throaty and filled with hedonistic pleasure. As an afterthought, she pressed the tip of the dagger into his side, so that he’d pop a lung if he so much as moved wrong.
Looking up at him briefly, she found a focus in his features that bordered on obsessiveness, like he was memorizing the image. She wanted to erase that look on his face, determined to distract him by bobbing up and down on him faster.
It was more of an experimental attempt at fellatio, a primer to what came next, but he didn’t seem to mind, a string of meaningless words coming out of his mouth in lieu of holding her hair. “Fuck, you’re so gorgeous. Your lips were the first thing I noticed about you. Never thought I’d get to see them stretched around my cock.”
Wednesday tried taking him deeper in her mouth. “Just like that. Fuck.”
As much as she liked the feel of him in her mouth, the weight of him against her tongue, it caused far too much talking. She wanted him speechless, or at least not so needlessly encouraging.
Replacing her mouth with her other hand, she worked his shaft until he was straining hard and leaking pre-cum. She’d yet to find a part of his body that wasn’t gorgeous. Tyler’s skin gleamed in the low light, and his thighs were as muscled as his torso, lean and relaxed, slightly open to accommodate her between them. It was as if he’d been sculpted from marble just for her.
Wednesday was only becoming more aroused the longer she touched him, but he had felt big in her mouth, and she wanted to be certain she was ready. Standing, she put one foot on the step beyond him, so that her right thigh was raised over his, opening her wide to his gaze. Drawing her free hand up her thigh, her heart raced as his eyes followed to her center. Two of her fingers slipped in easily, but she still teased at her entrance, stretching and readying herself.
“I think you should unchain me.” Tyler gulped, watching her press a third finger inside. The idea was half-tempting. His hands had always seemed dextrous, but strong. Wednesday wondered if the calluses she’d felt against her skin when they first kissed were still there. Knowing she couldn’t unchain him, she pressed her fingers inside as deeply as she could.
It wasn’t enough. He was right there, perfectly hard for her, and she was ready. If Wednesday was going forward with this insanity, she may as well go all the way. Her fingers were slick when she pulled them out, and he seemed torn as to where his eyes should go.
Dagger still in one hand, she wrapped her wrists around the back of his neck, straddling him. “I think… that you should wait your turn.”
Sinking down onto his cock was the best way to throw away all her plans, she decided, her mouth falling open at the delicious stretch and friction. It was better than any of her fantasies, and she was so focused on the feeling of him splitting her open that she didn’t stop him from kissing her once more. Despite being chained, he was still capable of consuming her whole, mouth open and practically begging against hers.
He didn’t move his hips, waiting for her to adjust, but she could sense the tension in his muscles, the way he was holding himself back.
“I’m still going to kill you.” Wednesday regained enough of her composure to hold the knife against his neck, but only barely. If she appeared threatening at all, she’d have been surprised. They hadn’t even moved yet and she was gasping and trembling with his cock seated inside her.
“Right.” He buried his face in her neck, thrusting, once, sudden, and so hard it spurred an involuntary, high-pitched noise from her. “After I come inside you.”
She shuddered as he moved again, bucking his hips into hers. Biting her lip, she tried to regain the upper hand. He groaned as she began to circle her hips, the drag and friction tantalizing to both of them.
Feeling more confident, she whispered into his ear, “You really think I’d let you?”
They started to gain a rhythm, and Wednesday thought for a moment that he just might make her a liar. She never knew it could feel this good, debasing herself, going against all her instincts, choosing pleasure over precision and order. There was nothing orderly about bouncing up and down on her nemesis’ cock while he was chained and at her mercy.
“I think you’ll beg for it.” His teeth worried at the tender skin of her neck, and her sense of danger overtook her desire. He was inside her. Tyler could turn at any moment, teeth, claws, everything. Wednesday was at his mercy, not the other way around.
She stood then, disengaging, hating herself for wanting him inside her again, wanting him to fill the emptiness. When did I get a lobotomy? This is insane. Her body and her mind were at war, and Wednesday feared that her body might win.
“Don’t be so sure.” The words felt half-hearted, considering she was still leaking down her thighs, stripped down to her skin and throbbing for him.
Wednesday couldn’t help but look at him, then. As compelling an image as his body made, cock standing to attention and slick with both their desire, it was his face that drew her. The lantern had grown dim and he was cast in deep shadows, every muscle limned in darkness. His expression was a study in contrasts, at once looking down his nose at her, deeply irritated that she’d left him there, unfulfilled. Beneath it, he seemed to be concentrating, completely focused on her. He licked his lips, and Wednesday followed the movement avidly.
“Wednesday.” He did that damnable head tilt once more, smirking. His voice was so low it felt like he’d reached inside her and pinned her in place with just his presence. “I’m sure.”
Her breath caught as she thought about how good it had felt, thought about throwing caution to the wind once more. Her plan was so far out the window it had entered another zip code, but that didn’t mean she had to be impulsive. She turned away, needing a moment without him staring at her, overwhelming her with only his gaze.
The sudden noise of metal clanging broke the silence, and Tyler was a blur of movement as she turned back. He’d broken his chains, and before she knew it, he was pinning her to the ground, grasping at the hand that held the dagger. He slammed her wrist against the stone floor until she let go of the hilt, and the quillon slid across the floor and out of reach.
Fear mingled with her desire, her breathing shallow after he’d nearly knocked the wind out of her, but Tyler didn’t seem to have any intentions to hurt her. In fact, he was kissing her, touching her, his hands over her hips, elbows spreading her thighs. One of the manacles had broken off at the cuff, the cold metal brushing her skin. His eyes held a question, and Wednesday felt herself nodding, more than acquiescing. He was right. Wednesday wanted it. In fact, she was desperate for it.
He held both her wrists easily in one hand, her knuckles scraping against the rough floor, a sting that made every nerve feel alive. The bruising pressure of his body holding her down only spurred her on. Her hips lifted, trying to meet his. Tyler’s expression was caught between arrogance and awe as he lined himself up at her entrance. The sigh she let out at him filling her once more was nothing short of carnal.
His pace quickly grew aggressive, but she was so wet that it didn’t matter, the lewd noises of their joining only growing more obscene the harder he pounded into her.
“I could tear you apart right now.”
He wasn’t though, not in any way she didn’t want.
Wednesday lifted her wrists, struggling with her full strength, just to see what he would do. It wasn’t even a challenge, not with his abilities, and he held her down so tightly it felt like her bones were grinding together. He ducked his head down to hers for an equally bruising kiss, and she moaned into his mouth, pleasure and pain blurring into one.
“You gonna be good for me if I let you go?” His voice was challenging, his hips speeding up, skin slapping against skin in an indecent accompaniment.
“We wouldn’t be here right now if I were good.” She’d broken him out of a criminal psychiatric facility to murder him, not play house. If he wanted her pliant, he shouldn’t have betrayed her. Her back arched, renewing her efforts to free herself, but all it did was draw his attention to her breasts. Tyler grinned down at her, still fucking her while she fought his grip. Warmth was building at her core, every thrust fanning the flame. She was getting close, wishing she could deny the obvious effect he had on her.
“I wasn’t trying to spark a fucking philosophical debate.” He dragged his free hand down her hip, squeezing. “I’d rather touch you than hold you down.”
Breath caught like a lump in her throat, Wednesday found herself nodding, suddenly feeling as if she’d perish if he wasn’t touching her, everywhere he could. As he let go of her hands, he dragged his fingers down the length of her arm, across her chest, stopping to tweak her nipple.
Leaning down, he brought his lips to her neck, and Wednesday twined her hands in his hair, holding him there while he slowly pumped in and out of her, the metal of the shock collar pressed against her breasts. He was all-encompassing, surrounding her, inside of her, filling her mind and her senses. She couldn’t catch her breath, warmth suffusing her core, her composure devastated by the feeling of him moving inside her.
“Let me in, Wednesday.” Tyler was getting close, his thrusts growing uneven and harried. He reached down to where they were joined, thumb finding her clit. She arched into him, beckoned by the snap of his hips and his circling thumb.
Her orgasm hit her all at once. In one moment she’d been chasing it, and in the next she’d fallen over the edge, subsumed by sensation, shaking, unaware of the words coming out of her mouth. “Come inside me. Please.”
He held her hips so tightly she was certain to have bruises, holding her in place while he finished in a few brutal strokes. She was so sensitized and overly stimulated that she clutched at his arms, gasping and writhing as he filled her up. It was with a feeling of whiplash that he finally stopped moving, his cock buried in her, twitching with the last vestiges of his orgasm.
Wednesday felt dazed, suffused with a feeling of unreality that she couldn’t shake, her core still pulsing where they were joined. The animal urgency that had driven them suddenly drained, Tyler sat up, his hands dragging down her outer thighs, but not leaving her skin.
Biting her lip, Wednesday hated that she was so preoccupied with the idea of kissing his perfectly reddened mouth that she forgot about her dagger, about her plan. She wasn’t the only one. Tyler wrapped his hands around her waist and pulled them together, his lips finding hers with a certainty that she didn’t feel.
The kiss shouldn’t have cut her to the quick, shouldn’t have sent her into a spiral, not considering what they’d just done. Except that it reminded her of the Weathervane, the way he’d looked at her, sweetly pressing his lips against hers, with just a hint of the hunger beneath peeking through. Panic gripped her chest, and she pushed at his shoulders. “Off. Now.”
Tyler pulled away immediately, brows furrowing with concern. “Wednesday?”
For all they’d played at the boundaries of consent with their antics, they’d both known what they wanted. She might have been careless and he might have been a monster, but they’d been aligned in their desires. He let go of her without a second thought.
Practically falling off of him, Wednesday rushed to standing, hastily finding her clothes. Her throat felt tight as she pulled on her leggings, not bothering to find her panties. She just needed to be covered, despite his cum steadily leaking between her thighs. Tyler found his sweatpants. He had significantly less clothing, and watched her as she got dressed the rest of the way. Wednesday suddenly felt the chill of the stone crypt, having left his furnace-like heat. She had to push down the errant emotions that threatened to choke her, return to some semblance of normalcy.
The plan. The dagger. As Wednesday’s gaze flashed to the quillon, Tyler stepped in her way, blocking her path.
His voice was as cold as ice. “I’m not going back there, Wednesday.” He was still wearing the shock collar, but he’d taken the remote from her at some point. Tyler crushed it in one fist, pulverizing the plastic, rendering it useless.
He’s going to kill Enid and I just freed him and let him fuck me in a crypt. This is why she blamed me, in my vision. It’s all my fault.
Wednesday didn’t have a response, her tongue stalled with the weight of her own stupidity and self-indulgence. She’d failed so badly in executing her plan that it was beyond tragedy, verging on comedy. He didn’t seem interested in killing her, but she was half-tempted to see if he’d give it a go, if only so she wouldn’t have to face the embarrassment of what she’d just done.
The crypt door opened and they both startled. Bianca walked in, followed by Thing. Power filled her every word as she spoke.
“You’re both going to forget this ever happened.”