Chapter Text
Wednesday is just finishing up writing a haunting short story about Viper uncovering the body of her estranged uncle when Enid bursts into the room like an explosive confetti machine and launches herself into her bed. Wednesday barely turns her head in acknowledgement. To do so would be a waste of energy because she can feel the tension, the dejection, the misery. Considering Wednesday spent her childhood manufacturing misery for other people, she has a sixth sense for these things.
Wednesday glances at Thing and shoots him a barely perceptible nod at the door. He scurries off the desk. The door slams shut with him on the other side, giving Wednesday the privacy to voice her threats.
“Who do I need to maim,” Wednesday asks, though it's not a question. Rather a demand. She will have answers, and Enid will have blood. She pulls a hidden knife from her boot and spins around in her chair. The blade glints in the bleach-white light of the moon. “Give me names.”
Enid is face down in her pillows, the puke-worthy colors drowning her.
“It's nothing.” Her voice is muffled by the pillows, but there’s a noticeable gruffness strangling her words. It pulls painfully at Wednesday’s heartstrings.
Despite her best efforts, Wednesday has grown rather fond of her technicolor roommate. For a month now she has been plagued with an ever-growing ache for her. To know her, be near her, care for her - especially if that means disposing of individuals who cause her harm.
At first she was able to dismiss the whole thing as her heat kicking in. Enid was, after all, a very… desirable alpha, and even her baser instincts could not help but yearn for her. However, after the week was over and done with, the sickening desire remained and Wednesday was forced to face the truth: She was in love with Enid.
Wednesday stands from her chair, determined, “Was it the gorgon? He is beneath you. Any boy who cannot stomach the monster that you are is a deplorable waste of space.” Wednesday pauses before adding, “I hope he stones himself.”
Enid turns her head, pulling her face from her now tear stained pillow, “That’s mean.”
“I fail to see how that’s relevant.” Wednesday, knife still in hand, crosses the divide of their room and sets herself carefully upon the bed next to Enid. She can feel the heat radiating off her roommate, no doubt a side effect of all the pent up emotion.
“It's not his fault,” Enid sniffs, sitting up. She does not meet Wednesday's eye. “I told him I wanted to take things slow and he’s–I’m not giving him what he needs.”
Wednesday turns to her sharply, “Do not make excuses for him.”
“I'm not-”
“You are.”
“He’s just–I like him, but I don't think I like him that way. So I get it if he has to find other people to fill that space.” Enid groans and buries her face in her hands, “I don’t know, maybe I should-”
“No.”
“What?”
“No,” Wednesday repeats. “You are being unreasonable.”
Enid pulls her face from her hands and cocks her head ever so slightly. An adorable expression of confusion forms on her face that makes Wednesday’s stomach cartwheel inside her and twist into horrible knots.
“Enid. You are worth more than him. Tu sei il sole. È la nuvola che avvolge la tua bellezza (You are the sun. He is the cloud that shrouds your beauty).”
A blinding smile that rivals the sun stretches across Enid’s face, “I don’t know what that means, but it sounds nice.” Wednesday bites the inside of her cheek, fighting the heat creeping up her neck. She hates herself for this lapse in discipline. She needs to remove herself from this situation immediately.
She stands abruptly from the bed, only then noticing that Enid is still smiling at her like a lunatic, “What?”
“Can I hug you?” Enid asks and another fracture surfaces in Wednesday’s discipline.
She knows what she’d like to say. If Wednesday had her way, Enid would be stitched to her side like a Siamese twin. She briefly wonders if that operation is possible only to strike it down once she realizes it would make practicing her cello impossible.
Wednesday sighs. There’s no use in delaying the inevitable, “You may, but only if you stop sulking.”
Enid wastes no time. She surges forward and wraps her arms around Wednesday’s waist with so much force they stumble back a few steps. She allows her own arms to curl around Enid’s back, breathing in her scent.
Enid mumbles a thank you against her shoulder and Wednesday feels her destruction close at hand. The Addams family curse will surely be the death of her. Enid will surely be the death of her.
***
Enid will not stop fidgeting. Normally Wednesday would just leave, find another table in the library, or head back to their room. A month ago she would have without question. Now…
“Enid. Enough.”
“Sorry,” is her immediate response, but she does not stop fidgeting . Enid sits beside her, drumming her fingers, tapping her pen, jogging her leg. It's absolutely infuriating . And the heat rolling off her in waves along with the smell of lilac, vanilla, and something much headier is definitely not helping.
Wednesday takes a deep controlled breath and places a firm hand on Enid’s thigh. The move makes Enid freeze up and a barely audible groan escapes her lips. The sound is music to Wednesday’s ears, and it's all she can do to not to huff with pride about the fact that she’s responsible.
“Sorry,” Enid whispers. The tips of her ears turn red, a telltale sign of embarrassment. Even through the pants, Wednesday can feel how tense she is, muscles hard and straining beneath her touch. It takes all her willpower not to rub soothing circles along the steeled plane of her thigh until the wolf is soft and pliant under her fingers.
“Enid,” Wednesday starts, putting the pieces together. “Are you approaching your rut?”
“Is it that obvious?” Enid mutters. She drags a hand down her face, “If I had known wolfing out would cause all of this, I never would have–ugh, this is so embarrassing .”
“This is a normal bodily function,” Wednesday disagrees. “There is nothing embarrassing about it.”
“I know it's just–I know. But I can't walk around campus like this.” She gestures to the noticeable tent in her pants–as if Wednesday could have somehow missed it. “Someone could see.”
“Most alphas flaunt their endowments,” Wednesday notes.
Enid bites her lip, “Yeah, well… sorry to disappoint.”
You don't, Cara Mia, is what Wednesday wants to say. You never do .
Instead she remains silent and squeezes Enid's thigh reassuringly, which serves to do quite the opposite. Enid jumps under the touch, knees smacking painfully against the underside of the table and a hiss escapes her mouth. Wednesday suppresses a grin.
“ Wednesday ,” Enid whispers hoarsely. “Please don’t do that again.”
“Why not?” Wednesday asks, because she just can’t help herself. Torturing Enid like this is quickly becoming one of her favorite pastimes.
Enid shoots her a look that sits somewhere on the spectrum between are you fucking kidding me? and please don’t make me beg . Wednesday definitely knows which way she’s leaning.
Alas, she decides to take pity on her, if only because of that miserable expression on her face. Removing her hand, she rises from her seat, and bids Enid to rise with her, “Follow me.”
“But-”
“ Follow me ,” Wednesday repeats, leaving no room for argument.
Enid relents reluctantly, standing from their table and stumbling along behind her, hands noticeably hovering around her crotch to block the view. Her efforts are unnecessary–only two other students remain in the library and both of them are in the quiet study room.
“Where are we going?” Enid nearly whines, catching up to Wednesday. The heat radiating off her form is thick and intoxicating, and Wednesday has to clench her hands to stop herself from grabbing Enid by the tie and impatiently dragging her the rest of the way.
“Somewhere more private.”
“Why?”
Wednesday fights the urge to roll her eyes and leaves her question unanswered. Enid would figure it out soon enough.
They pass dozens of bookcases before they reach the most secluded part of the library, between the stacks of books containing information on the various monsters and their anatomical and biological functions. Quite a fitting location, given their present situation.
“What are we doing here?” Enid asks tentatively, observing the spine of a book titled Monsters and Sexual Anatomical Deviations: A Study of Pleasure and Power. Wednesday makes a mental note to check that one out afterwards. “Why are we at the back of the library?”
“You are clearly miserable and I cannot focus on my work with your incessant fidgeting,” Wednesday explains. She drops her eyes down at the sizable bulge in Enid's pants to emphasize her point. Wednesday watches the cogs turn in Enid’s head trying to piece together exactly what is going on.
Enid shuffles from foot to foot, brows pulled low over her eyes in bewilderment. Like a switch flipping, they shoot up as realization hits her, “Do you mean–are you-”
“Yes,” Wednesday answers, a little impatient.
Enid’s pupils blow out. She takes in a shaky breath. She lets it out, “Okay.”
“Good,” Wednesday says and wastes not a second more. She crowds Enid against the bookcase until there are only inches between them and Wednesday has to crane her neck to keep her eyes locked on the alpha’s. And oh , she likes the sight of her throat bobbing desperately with need and the feeling of Enid’s heaving breaths painting her lips with heat.
Wednesday drags her hands down the front of Enid’s vest, letting them wander. One worms its way into the waistband of her trousers, fingers hooking into the fabric to keep her steady. The other slides down until it's barely an inch away from cupping the bulge that's been teasing her since she first saw it. Enid’s breath stutters. Her eyes are wide, mouth open and wanting.
A ghost of a smile curves on Wednesday’s lips. “Keep quiet,” she says, earning a quick, submissive nod from the werewolf.
Wednesday never fantasizes about anything along the lines of public sexual endeavors, as she's far more interested in pursuits set firmly in the realm of the macabre–but here and now, tucked into the corner of a library with Enid under her thumb, she knows she'll be thinking about this for days to come.
Wednesday shifts closer and, unable to behave any longer, lets her hand sink lower. It finds purchase on Enid's tented erection, and she gives the length a firm squeeze.
Enid’s head snaps back and smacks against the books, resulting in a groan that lands somewhere between pleasure and pain.
“Hush,” Wednesday scolds softly, stroking gently. “What did I say?”
“Sorry,” Enid pants.
“Will you be quiet for me?”
“Yes,” Enid breathes.
“Good.” As a reward, Wednesday allows her fingers to slip into the front of Enid’s waistband as she begins to unbutton her pants, reveling in the hot muscles jumping under her touch.
Since hitting her werewolf puberty and subsequently presenting as an alpha, Enid had opted to wear pants more often than not. That choice was both a blessing and a curse. While it allowed Wednesday to admire her well endowed friend, it also gave others the opportunity to do so as well, and they were not subtle. On more than one occasion, Enid had to convince Wednesday not to shank them with her knife.
No matter. Though deprived of the satisfaction of striking fear into the hearts of her competition, she has ultimately bested them.
With the front of Enid’s pants popped open, she slides her hand inside Enid’s boxers with ease. The alpha moans as slim fingers wrap around her cock, or at least try to. As Wednesday draws her out into the open air, she realizes her hand cannot fully close around it.
The thick shaft sits heavy in her hand, the bulbous head red and furious as it throbs angrily from base to tip. Wednesday gives it an experimental tug, familiarizing herself with the contours of Enid’s cock–the thick vein that runs along the underside, the mushroom head begging for attention, the slight curve to the length–she wants to commit every detail to memory.
Enid goes rigid beneath her, a soft whimper leaving her lips. Her claws unsheath and her hands tighten around the shelf at her back, cutting deep grooves into the wood. Wednesday would rather have those deadly hands on her, but she leaves this desire unvoiced.
“Relax,” Wednesday says instead, stroking Enid firmly. The length twitches, fresh fluid spilling from the aching head. “Rilassati mio lupo, mi prenderò cura di te (Relax my wolf, I will take care of you).”
Through the haze of pleasure, Enid finds the will to meet Wednesday’s gaze, “What does that mean?” Her pupils are blown wide, the usual ocean blue irises now a small ring orbiting a vast abyss of black.
Wednesday answers by swiping her thumb over the thick head, using the precum to pump her hand faster.
Enid lurches forward, hips stuttering and she has to bite down on her knuckles so as not to cry out. Wednesday watches, captivated by the sight, sound, and smell of Enid coming undone by her hand.
Between the splintered shelving and the heady scent of Enid’s rut that will surely linger, the evidence of their spontaneous tryst will be hard to deny. Any vampire or werewolf who steps foot into the library will be able to smell the proof of their carnal venture, and something about that makes Wednesday swell with an arrogant satisfaction.
The only caveat? She can feel her own arousal growing, the heat pooling in her belly like molten lava, scorching her from the inside out and burning away her resolve. Only Enid could drive her baser desires out of hiding and awaken the omega inside her she had long since laid to rest. She both loves and loathes her for it.
A few more strokes has Enid pulsing wildly in her palm, a steady leak of precum indicating her imminent climax. Wednesday swipes her thumb over the slit with every upward stroke, eager to pull another breathy moan from the alpha.
But then, without warning, her ministrations are halted. Enid’s hand grips her own, vicelike and unyielding, stopping her from finishing her off. Wednesday bites the inside of her cheek in frustration, fingers tightening around the member in defiance. That pulls a quiet moan from Enid.
“Why did you stop me?” Wednesday asks, making her irritation known.
“I–I’m close.”
Wednesday rolls her eyes, “Yes, that’s the whole point.”
Enid shakes her head, “I don’t want to make a mess.”
Wednesday hums, considering. As much as Wednesday finds the idea of Enid’s seed marking her appealing, it would be a shame to ruin their uniforms. So she does the only logical thing left to do. She drops to her knees.
Enid’s eyes nearly bug out of her head.
“Wednesday!” Enid hisses, hands going to her shoulders, trying to pull her up by the fabric of her shirt. “What are you doing?”
“You don't want to make a mess. I’ve found a solution.” And before Enid can get in any kind of protest, Wednesday brings the tip to her lips, kissing it softly, slowly. Her tongue slides along the bottom caressing it lightly along the vein.
A heavenly sound falls from Enid’s lips and Wednesday commits this to memory too, adding it to the collection.
Up close Enid’s cock is even bigger, a monstrous thing that contrasts beautifully with her sunny personality. Wednesday fantasizes for a moment about how it would feel inside her, stretching her open, ruining her for anyone else (not that there would be anyone else). It would be difficult to make her fit anywhere, but Wednesday has never backed down from a challenge and she doesn’t plan to now.
She wraps her fingers around the base of the cock and lets her lips finally stretch over the head, sealing just behind the mushroom tip. Wednesday planned to go further, but the head alone is enough to fill her mouth.
One of Enid's hands comes down to tangle into her hair, claws pricking at her scalp. It only spurs Wednesday on. She licks at the underside before sliding her tongue to lap at the tip, savoring the salty sweet taste. Enid’s grip on her hair tightens and she hisses out a fuck .
Wednesday grins around the member, heat pooling in her core at the sound and dripping into her undergarments. She spreads the base of her tongue under the broad side of the tip before letting it come up to tease at the slit. Precum spills hard onto her tongue as the member throbs in her mouth.
“Wednesday,” Enid pants, head thrown back in pleasure. “I–I’m gonna-”
The heavy shaft pulses once, twice, and then a flood spills forth from the tip and into Wednesday's waiting mouth. The first spurt of cum hits the back of her throat and she swallows eagerly. Her hand pumps the shaft slowly coaxing out everything Enid has to offer - and she has a lot to offer. After the tenth spurt of cum, Wednesday stops counting and just continues suck softly. She swallows every drop, knowing that she is the first to taste Enid and, if she has any say in it, the last.
Enid bucks her hips a few times, aiding in her release, until she finally slumps back against the bookcase. One last surge of cum leaks onto Wednesday’s tongue before Enid begins to soften in her mouth. She swallows and gives the head one last lick for good measure, making Enid shiver.
Wednesday stands and reluctantly helps Enid tuck herself back into her trousers. She brushes off imaginary dust from her sleeves while Enid catches her breath.
“Wednesday, you're amazing,” Enid says, and the compliment has Wednesday preening. The werewolf steps forward closing the distance between them once again. “I–I want to return the favor.”
Wednesday freezes, a bitter feeling crawling up her throat. Can Enid smell her arousal? Can she sense how turned on the act of pleasuring Enid made her? She hopes not. How pitiful she has become, a carnal beast just like everyone else, a slave to her baser desires.
As tempting as having Enid between her legs is, she’s afraid that a single touch from Enid will be enough to get her off. What would the werewolf think of her then? She’d either know Wednesday has feelings for her or think she was… easy. Both were options she’d rather avoid.
“That… won’t be necessary,” Wednesday says, though her stomach drops as she says it.
Enid clasps her hands behind her back and shrugs, “No it's not necessary, but I still want to.”
The desire on Enid’s face is palpable and it's nearly enough for Wednesday to give in, but she needs to keep some semblance of self control.
Wednesday steps away from Enid, away from that intoxicating smell, “We need to get back to our work.”
Enid deflates like a popped balloon. Like someone stepped on her paw and didn’t apologize. Wednesday groans internally.
“Perhaps…” Wednesday starts, “Perhaps another time.”
And just like that Enid is perking up again, giving her that blinding smile and Wednesday has to walk away before she lets Enid take her there and now.