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For months, there were parts of herself that Wednesday refused to look at — feelings that she refused to acknowledge. Instead, she sent them to the darkest, furthest corners. Letting them collect dust. Every memory, every glance - was tucked away and locked into the cobweb-covered attic. The wallpaper starting to peel, spots of mould and mildew collecting around the windows that had long-since been boarded up. There were big white sheets strewn over the furniture, covering everything that once was. Even in her own haunted house, Wednesday got the feeling that she was never alone. There was always something following her from hallway to hallway, from room to room - or perhaps, someone. A long-forgotten phantom, the outline of a shadow. Something that she tried to convince herself was merely the trick of light. But the flickering candles and broken chandelier could not explain the consistent shivers that ran down her spine. It almost felt like a puff of breath against the back of her neck, like being laughed at. The air was filled with the old, sour smell of death and decay, and the taste of regret. And no matter how hard she tried, it seemed she couldn’t even walk around the corners of herself without the adoring caress of one of her ghosts — one that she had tried to kick out a long time ago.
And in a moment of weakness, she had let him back in. Allowed him to trample over the weeds and step right over the dusty welcome mat. The worst part was that she should have known better. The last time someone had convinced her to let others in, shaking her head gently at Wednesday’s preferred method of surviving alone — the red hair and needlepoint glasses had been nothing but a ruse. A distraction. In pushing Wednesday into taking small steps towards trusting others and giving them a chance, Thornhill had effectively set her up to lose more than she had started with. Fattening up their pig before taking her to the slaughterhouse. Convincing Wednesday that she wasn’t better off alone, after all — only to leave her with nothing and no one. She turned it into a game. And Tyler, he had been in it for the fun.
“Because you can stay…if you want.”
“But I just…fuck, Wednesday. I don’t know how else to say it.”
“Please…stay.”
It played on a loop in her head, everything that he said to her. The words fell from his lips like soft, running water - like it had taken everything in him to hold them back before that very moment, right before they came spilling out.
And now — bursting out of the door of botany class, felt eerily similar to roaming the halls of her haunted house. Every doorway, every corner of Nevermore - once a crime scene. Every inch holding a memory attached to him, somehow. Even her own dorm wasn’t safe : flashbacks of him knocking at her door in an icy-white suit, flashbacks of getting dressed for their first date, flashbacks of falling into bed with a frantically beating heart on the night that he took her first kiss. It was freely-given, but after letting her lips curve upwards into a tender smile, and allowing his thumb to stroke over the curve of her cheek, only to fall backwards - it felt as though something was stolen from her. An innocence. For the first time, Wednesday wondered if ignorance really was bliss. A part of her wished that she could have gone back to that moment, and chosen to walk away before she knew the truth. Maybe if she turned around and had gone to him another night, or waited just a second longer before letting him touch her — she could have stayed unaware. And giving her first kiss to him, would not have made her feel like a tricked child.
Storming down the hallway, heart pounding away in her chest - she could hear the long legs working to catch up with her. She didn’t have to see him behind her, to know that he was there.
The next moment, a hand clamped down on her wrist hard. With a firm tug, Wednesday was pulled into a nearby room, slammed up against the inside of the door once he shut it behind them. Tyler was glaring down at her, palms flat against the wood of the door, trapping her in. He looked furious. Once she spared a glance behind his broad shoulders, she realised that they were in an empty classroom. The lights off, blinds down. They could only see the silhouettes of each other, but his eyes were dark. From desire, or anger — it was uncertain. The two blurred together.
She could feel the delicious weight of his body against hers, pressing her up against the closed door. His breath coming out in hot pants against her face, voice full of venom.
“Do I need to put a fucking bell on you?”
Her jaw ticked, eyes glaring at the darkness behind him.
When Wednesday woke up that morning, it took her precisely five seconds to realise exactly where she was. In a vaguely familiar room, scented with sandalwood and fresh pine, wrapped up in clean linen sheets that definitely were not her own. A sunken mattress, softer than she was used to. The distant ticking of an alarm clock that definitely did not belong to her. And there was an arm draped across her waist, firm and defined, and unfortunately - she knew just who it belonged to. He was still warm and solid behind her, breathing against her ear. One of his legs thrown over her own, his long fingers clenching and unclenching against the bottom of her ribcage. Even in his sleep, he couldn’t seem to give her space. It was precisely three seconds after realising that she was in Tyler’s bed, that the flashbacks started. His mouth hot and wet against her, his fingers pressing her down in the hopes of creating bruises. Every part of him hard and aching, hips snapping with ferocity as he whispered in her ear, coaxing her into coming for him one more time. It played on a loop in her mind - the way she had melted at his touch, whimpered pitifully into his neck, falling apart to his mouth between her legs. And that was when the panic set in.
The walk of shame was just that - shameful. No part of it exhilarating, or thrilling as the mattress squeaked quietly as her weight shifted, limbs desperately trying to get free. No part of her self-assured or proud as she gathered her clothes and made a dash for the bathroom. It was by some miracle that Tyler stayed asleep, face buried peacefully into the pillow. In a rather petty, but necessary move - Wednesday reached for his bedside table and unplugged his alarm clock.
“What’s the matter?” She retorted spitefully, eyes flicking back to his. “Didn’t sleep well?”
“You’re real fucking funny."
Tyler had stumbled through the door to their morning botany class almost half-an-hour late, his uniform slightly rumpled and apology half-mumbled. She could feel his gaze burning through her with every step on his way to take a seat. He scraped his chair and threw his books down with a little more aggression than was necessary. He spent the first five minutes sulking in the corner on the opposite side of the room, glaring straight at her. His eyes alight with something more dangerous, more life-threatening than any of the plant species surrounding them. There he was - the threat to her eco-system. Wednesday did not allow her gaze to stray from the blackboard, shoulders squared and back straight. After ten minutes, Tyler grew impatient. A crumpled piece of paper landed on her notebook when their botany teacher’s back was turned, and Wednesday gritted her teeth. He was sending her notes now? Instead of unfurling the note like he wanted, she made sure to flick it off the desk and onto the floor. She had no interest in reading his words. The snapping of a pencil could be heard from across the classroom, and Wednesday spared a glance in her direction. He had raised an eyebrow, silently asking - do you really want to do this?
“Do you really want to do this?” Tyler asked, aloud this time.
“Do what?’
He chuckled darkly, and leaned in even closer. Wednesday fought not to gulp. “Am I going to have to catch you every single time, cockroach? Because I will.”
Wednesday could see it right there in his eyes, her sneaking out before he woke up - it had bothered him. Maybe even hurt him. It made her eyes narrow into slits, some part of her at a loss. What had he expected? Did he think that after everything, she would cower at his feet and tuck herself against him like a cat? Just because he had fucked her? She wasn’t that easy, and she needed him to know it.
“You don’t own me.” She told him plainly.
Tyler stopped for a minute, tilting his head in a way that was all-too familiar. One of his hands left its place beside her head, to spread her thighs a little for him. Once there was more room, his knee sunk between them, pressing firmly against her centre.
“No?” He questioned as her eyelashes fluttered weakly. “After all, last time I checked - I’m the only one that has ever had you like this.”
It was difficult to argue, to insist that she was not his - that him being her first gave him no right to own her. Extremely difficult with the pressure of his leg between her own, providing her with just the slightest bit of relief. It made her weak. Had she been walking around with it, all this time? This need for him? And now, even the slightest touch of his knee between her thighs - it had her keening and clamping her jaw shut in fear of making a noise. It was humiliating enough that her eyelids were drooping with desire, gaze going slightly hazy and out of focus.
He huffed a laugh right in her face, clearly noticing her struggle. “That’s it. You’re not so difficult when I’m giving you what you want, are you?”
Wednesday scowled up at him.
His knee pressed against her a little rougher, and a broken sound escaped.
“I think someone…” Tyler decided, moving his knee away from between her legs, pushing a hand between them instead, “…needs a quick reminder.”
His thumb rubbed firmly at her panties, underneath her skirt. The added stimulation and easier access made Wednesday grateful that she had gotten dressed in such a wreck this morning, choosing black knee high socks instead of her usual tights. That morning, after quietly escaping from his dorm room - Enid was still in the shower. Glancing at herself in the mirror, taking in her previously-worn clothes, messy braids and smudged eye-make up - she set out to make herself look more presentable. In a flustered state, her hands scrambled to find her neatly ironed uniform, tugging her skirt up her waist, struggling to tuck in her crisp white shirt. She almost tripped over whilst her shaky hands fumbled with her knee high black socks. After redoing her braids and tidying up her make-up, Wednesday dared another peek into the mirror. Somehow, her uniform still appeared skewed and the wild intensity would not leave her eyes. She wondered if others could see it. Walking beside Enid on the way to botany class, books clutched tightly to her chest, Wednesday glared at anyone that even glanced in her direction. Their expressions felt different somehow. Their eyes more prying, knowing. Even though there was no way of them knowing, she could sense their whispers in the air. Wednesday found herself walking around with a big sign above her head, announcing to everyone - fucked by Tyler Galpin.
The evidence was right there on her body, in the shape of an obnoxiously large purple hickey just above where her collar hit. Covered only by a thin high-neck top that she pulled on underneath her school shirt, with the excuse of not feeling well.
Yet, his mark throbbed underneath the material — violent and insistent enough, that Wednesday swore that everyone was aware of its presence.
That had been his goal after all, hadn’t it? She thought of the fire in his eyes as he leaned down and worked her skin between his teeth, and how she was too ripped apart, too open to stop him. Between all of those new sensations clawing their way through, between all of those unexpected feelings - Wednesday had forgotten the ones that were already there. Like how she was supposed to hate him. But somewhere amongst tangled limbs and stuttered breaths, she had forgotten to grasp it tight, and hold onto it. And by the time she roused from the bed and remembered to search for it - that part of herself that would always loathe him - well…it simply wasn’t there anymore. All that was left was uncertainty, and shame. The feeling of losing.
His fingers plucked at the thin material high on her neck, taunting her mercilessly. “Were you feeling a little cold this morning?”
She stumbled over her words. “Fuck you.”
Tyler grinned like the cat that caught the canary. “I already did.”
His dexterous fingers circled her clit through the material of her panties, before slipping underneath. She was soaked. Wednesday’s face burned at the lewd squelching sound of his fingers spreading her slickness around, bringing it down to her entrance. Somewhere in the back of her mind, it suddenly occurred that they were in an empty classroom - just a wall away from a crowded hallway. If she focused hard enough, Wednesday could hear the muffled chatter and footsteps of other students making their way to their next class. And there she was, letting Tyler manhandle her without so much as resisting. God, she was trying. But the moment his two of his long fingers sunk into her, her head hit the back of the door with a loud thump. He chuckled quietly, lips hovering near her neck. His teeth dragged down the thin material of her high-neck shirt so that his beloved mark was on display one more. He pressed a lingering kiss to it, before rolling his eyes back up to watch her face contort with pleasure.
She was so tight and hot. His fingers fucked into her with little resistance, her walls swallowing them whole and making room. After taking his entire length, somehow his fingers still reached parts of her that Wednesday swore were undiscovered. When he curved them at just the right angle, her hand shakily came up to clamp over her own mouth. In a moment of panic, she tightened her grip, trying to muffle the high-pitched whine that broke free.
“Fuck, look at you”, Tyler breathed in wonder, “…you can’t even stay quiet, can you?”
Her eyes squeezed shut.
He began pumping his fingers in a steady rhythm, watching her cheeks flush from the effort to keep her noises to a minimum. He could hear her harsh breathing coming out through her nose, fingers still firmly clamped over her mouth. Part of him wanted to snatch her tiny hand away and force her to be louder. He didn’t care if the entire school heard what they were doing - in fact, some part of him would relish in it. After running out on him, leaving him rumpled in cold sheets - Tyler was tired of playing fair. But there was something about keeping this side of her secret, locked away from the eyes of everyone else. The pristine Wednesday Addams that walked around the campus of Nevermore with her laced up platform boots, stomping her way down the hallway like she owned the place - begged him not to stop making her come. The cold Wednesday Addams that refused to feel, to let herself be seen - was clenching hard around his fingers and fighting back pathetic noises. On the other side of that door, they had no idea. Getting to reduce her to a whimpering, crying mess last night on his thick length - was one thing. But after half a lesson of being ignored and made to feel small, Tyler’s lips curled up into a cruel smile at the knowledge that he could make her fall apart like this again and again.
“Does it turn you on?”, he whispered in her ear. “To know that there are people right behind this door, probably lining up outside this very classroom?”
Wednesday panted, tears leaking from the corner of her half-open eyes.
He increased the pace of his digits, using his thumb to circle around the swollen bump of her clit. Pressing down on it mercilessly, fingers scissoring her open. Reminding her of the space that was made for his cock. A promise that he would fuck her again. Wednesday keened beneath him, eyes widening and looking up at him with a silent plea. Her fingers shook around her mouth in an effort to stay there, and he ripped her hand away in a split second. Before she could wrench herself away from his fingers in shame, Tyler replaced the hand over her mouth with his own. It was bigger and more forceful, and there was something fucking gleeful about being the one controlling her volume. Her inability to stay quiet.
“Little Wednesday Addams”, he teased, looking down into her glassy eyes. “If only they knew.”
With a few more pumps of his fingers and his lips ducking down to suck against her neck, aiming for a slightly higher spot — she shattered around him. Her lower half spasming and trying fruitlessly to jerk away from him, away from the intense sensation. The muffled vibration of her loud cry were delicious against his large hand. It took everything within him not to wrench it away at the last second and let the entire hallway full of students know what he was doing to her.
When she came down from her high, Wednesday’s head lulled backwards and he took a moment before removing his hand from her panties completely. The longer his fingers lingered, spreading her fresh slick and arousal - the longer she remained disarmed. Free of physical weapons, no knife strapped to her thigh or ankle. Free of biting words, no sharp retort in sight. She was softer like this, malleable. Her mouth was dry and she took a moment to lick her lips, trying to catch her breath. Afterwards, she blinked up at him. Less awkward than the night before, right after they were intimate for the first time - but just as curious. Tyler let himself wonder for a moment, if he woke up before she had managed to slip away, if he had wrapped his arms around her a little tighter and stirred at her movement — would she have been soft then, too? Would she let herself be soft for him, lying there in his bed, where nobody else could see? It was a little painful to let himself wonder, because with every further question - he was reminded that she didn’t stay. She chose to leave. To run away from him, again.
And with that, the bell rang.
Wednesday hardened before him. Straightening up, haze behind her cloudy eyes clearing. They sharpened into focus, and it was as if she was suddenly realising who she was with. And that she had been standing there, without a word, for far too long. Before she could jump away from him and disappear out of their enclosed space, Tyler tugged on her wrist to keep her there for a moment. Wednesday glared up at him, her centre still throbbing with the aftershocks of her intense orgasm. The look in his eyes was downright evil, and he raised an eyebrow firmly.
“Don’t make me come and find you again.”
It was a warning, as much as it was a challenge.
— — —
Once again, Wednesday wondered just what she was doing here. A place she had been before. Clothes everywhere - her prettiest, most delicate laces laid out across the bed, her fingers fumbling and holding each up against her towel-clad frame, one by one. Her hair wet and straight down her back, droplets of water curling around her ear and rolling down her pale neck. Her eyes studying the collection before her. If she wore the same lingerie set as the previous night - with its intricate lace and thin elastic - he would know that she had walked up to his dorm with the same intention. Whilst maybe that should have felt less humiliating, she knew that Tyler wouldn’t have enough mercy on her to turn a blind eye. This time, he wouldn’t let her off. But it was her favourite set. Her other options were varying degrees of black underwear - some silk, some satin, others plain cotton with neat little black bows right above her pubic bone. Wednesday supposed that it was all just wrapping. That the smallest scrap of material imaginable, would get the job done, and perhaps it was wise to go to with her cheapest items — just in case he decided to get a little impatient. By the snap of the elastic against her hip last time, she figured he would have no qualms about ripping it off her.
But maybe he would prefer something to take his time with. Something pretty and complicated for him to peel off slowly, revealing more of her milky skin, fragment at a time. Drawing it out for as long as possible. Wednesday was certain that she had a satin set with lacing up the back, much like a corset. After some searching, she pulled it out from the back of her draw with a decided nod. But then - she faltered. Was it more appropriate to skip the lingerie altogether? If she wore a shirt thin enough, he may see the outline of her peaked nipples and set his tongue to work through the fabric. Maybe even giving them a harsh nip. Just the thought made Wednesday shiver, and suddenly she was unsure on her decision.
Logically, Wednesday knew how she ended up here. It started around her fourth class of the day, right as the dull ache in her core had started to fade, the aftershocks of her orgasm finally muffling. Leaving her be. And then — another note landed on her notebook. For a moment, she just stared. Whatever words were written on the lined paper, she did not want to read them. But a throat cleared from the far corner of the room, and she knew it was a warning without even looking. After the empty classroom debacle, Wednesday was suddenly afraid of what might happen if she tossed the note to the floor again. She wouldn’t put anything past him. Tyler could stand up from his desk in front of the entire class, and announce to them all just how pretty she looked taking his length, and how she whined for more. Or worse. He could walk his way over to her spot in the classroom, and convince her in quiet coos and praises to suck him off. She would be helpless. With the mere brush of his thumb across her lower lip, she would part her mouth and take him down to the base — gagging and spluttering. She would moan like she was being paid for it, tears streaming down her face in front of everyone.
God, what was she thinking?
Had he really fucked her that good?
In the end, his note had read TONIGHT. 8PM. And with a grumble, she had tucked the note between the pages of her notebook. Tilting her head in his direction, his face almost looked nervous. Wednesday looked him up and down slowly, taking in his tight grip around the pen and his tapping foot on the chair - and gave a short, curt nod.
He had managed to make his blinding smile look just a little bit sincere, with just the right touch of relief — and it made her nauseous.
It was just that — that false sincerity, that made Wednesday stop short in front of the mirror. He was convincing, she would give him that. But as she stood there, noticing her fingers twitching and pulling at her striped black and white cardigan, complete with little buttons leading down from her collarbone - she started to feel a little ridiculous. As she noticed her carefully drawn eye-make up, jeans that stuck to the curves of her body - she felt like a child playing dress up. Like one of those teenaged girls in those disgustingly bright movies, that fawned over pretty boys and sobbed their hearts out. Getting dressed up, only to get their heart broken. Wednesday used to roll her eyes at them. And now, somehow — she was one of them. With a search history full of curious questions and beauty techniques, with a drawer full of lingerie that had been tried on one by one, and a person that she didn’t recognise looking back through the mirror. It was a scene that had been rehearsed, a part that she had played before. Choosing her most unapproachable clothing, free of flowing skirts or flounce, jacket pulled tight up to her neck, platformed boots to give the illusion that she wasn’t so small compared to him. The boy that invited her to a crypt, only to chain her up there days later. The boy that gave her a stem of her favourite flower, only to turn around and crush it underneath his shoe. Taking her stupid, childish hopes with him.
And looking at herself in the mirror now, all dressed up — Wednesday realised that it was all for him. Under the guise of convincing herself that she was sating her own desire, and taking back the power that he stole from her - she had put on moisturiser for him. Behind the half-baked intention of giving him pleasure, whilst knowing that she was the one with the control to take it away whenever she decided to - she had made herself soft for him. And in realising that, Wednesday came to understand that she had never been the one in control. Not really. She was still underneath his thumb, and she hadn’t even seen it.
She looked so easy.
She had been making it so easy for him.
Before she could give him the chance to finish his victory lap, Wednesday threw her carefully picked outfit into a heap on the floor, and kicked at it with disgust. She crawled into bed and pulled the sheets up to her chin, curling her arms around her middle. In the quiet of her room, she told herself that the persistent ache in her stomach had nothing to do with the one in her heart.
— — —
Tyler had her for a little while. Just long enough to learn the feel of her in his arms, and to learn the ache that found home after she left. He was her first everything. Underneath the twinkling lights of a cold stone crypt, side by side on a dusty picnic blanket - he took her on her first date. At least, he was pretty sure it was her first. Wednesday Addams did not seem like the type to go on dates, but she did with him and he thought that meant something. After hours at his shitty job, covered in the thick scent of floor cleaner and washing-up liquid, beneath fluorescent red lights that made her look less harsh - she gave him her first kiss. And then she came to him once more, right when he thought she would never let him close again. She trusted him with her first time. Between the soft sheets of his bed, she let him touch her and hold her down until she cried. Eyes screwed shut, face lit with alarm at how good it had felt. He could see it plain on her face, she had not expected it to feel like that. Wednesday had gone to him and let him see her torn apart, vulnerable and open, experiencing something for the first time. She let him guide her and that had to have meant something. Knowing that she trusted him enough to give him all of her firsts, looking up at him with wonder in her eyes, as if he was something unexpected — part of him hoped that it meant he had her.
But here they were, back to strangers. Back to this schoolyard game. It was exhausting and childish, and he would rather have her hate him than be like this. Walking past him, as though he meant nothing. Her facade was strong, he would give her that. Uniform straight, buttons neat and tidy, steps even and calculated, pace refusing to falter. Her small hands held onto the straps of her backpack, high between her shoulder blades. To the outside eye, nothing was amiss. Tyler knew better. As he trailed after, making sure that she could hear the uneven rhythm of his footsteps, he noticed the tension in her sharp shoulders. It was drawn across her face, the crease running down her forehead, the twitch in her right eye - she was grasping for straws. Adamantly trying to convince him that she was continuing on as normal, that she did not even know that he was there. Tyler knew better, and somehow he didn’t. The quiet panic in his stomach rose with every step she took away from him, not bothering to quicken her pace or change direction. She wasn’t avoiding him outright, she was treating him like a ghost. As if he didn’t even have the power to touch her. And with that quiet panic, it became harder to remind himself that it was all an act.
What if it wasn’t?
On the outskirts of the quad, he managed to catch her. Grabbing onto her arm, but this time - she knew it was coming. She was expecting it. And his hand was shaken off, light and easy, as if she was swatting away a fly. It made his chest burn.
“Wednesday.”
It was quiet, but not without anger.
God, she didn’t even blink. But her hands tighten their grip on her backpack, and it was time for his eye to twitch.
“Wednesday”, he huffed under his breath again, walking right behind her, “…You’ve made your point, okay? We need to talk.”
She stopped short, and Tyler nearly toppled into her at the abruptness. They stayed like that, his chest pressed against her back. Hovering. For a moment, she let herself consider it. For a long time, there was so much that she wanted to say. So many words rehearsed late at night, so many conversations that she mapped out in her head. There were questions to ask, and he was the only one that had the answers. A part of her clung to the idea that she would get them, one day. Even if she had to torture them out of him, she would wring every last word out of his mouth and just like that - everything would start to make sense. Not knowing was the worst part. But now he was stood there, talking in her ear. Giving her the opportunity, the space to say how she felt. There was not another soul in the empty hallway, not a single listening ear to overhear them airing out their dirty laundry. It was just the two of them, and a large window. Somehow, it still felt dark. Tyler held his ground, waiting patiently for her to rip into him. But she didn’t want to. If she turned around, if she looked him dead in the eye and let him see the eagerness there - he would know that his answers meant something to her. If she wasted her time bringing down her walls once more, asking him what was real - he would know that they meant something. That what they once had meant everything. She wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.
And so, with her eyes pointed down to the ground, voice a little harsh - she told him. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Bullshit."
Wednesday span around on the spot, her glare dangerous. It didn’t scorch him anymore, it didn’t hurt. He wasn’t afraid of anything except spending another minute away from her.
He softened. A hand came up to tug gently at the end of her blazer, right where it met her waist. His gaze dropped to the material between his fingers, and how it held limp in his grip. He whispered it to her waist, like a humiliating secret. “Why didn’t you come?”
The note lay crumpled at the bottom of her waste bin, right beside her desk. Amongst pages filled with typos and ink smudges, rips and tears. They were just words on a page, and yet she could still feel the weight of them on her chest.
“I don’t have to explain myself to you.”
“For fucks sake, Wednesday…just—“
“I see no reason for you to keep wasting my time. Pulling me aside like this, trying to make idle conversation. We are not friends, Galpin.”
Tyler gave her a frustrated look. “I don’t want to be friends.”
The term was spat out with disgust, as if the very word offended him. The truth was, she had no label for what they were. Her feelings for him were this big, skewed pile of knots that she had no patience to pull apart. Tyler, it seemed - seemed to have some idea. Looking at her with an expectation, as if he expected her to just understand somehow. If he had said this perhaps a week ago, she would have known it would have been purely linked to lust. Referencing their primal attraction and inexplicable chemistry that had been there since the very moment they met, only amplifying with their mutual hatred. An urge to dig into each other, rip each other apart. He didn’t want to be friends, he wanted to eat her whole. Wrap his big hands around her tiny waist, and squeeze. But now, the words felt different. He didn’t want to be friends. He had no interest in this schoolyard game, or pretending that his feelings for her were not there. And Wednesday slowly realised that the once unidentifiable edge in his voice was pain. He wanted more than friends. More than lust, more than tearing each other’s clothes off. More than exciting trysts in empty classrooms and whispered taunts. He wanted her - period.
“Why won’t you just talk to me?” He sounded like he was about to cry, raw emotion building up in his voice and it made her chest tighten.
“Tyler”, she warned through gritted teeth, glancing around to ensure that they were still alone. “You’re embarrassing yourself.”
Hurt bled into his voice. “What? I’m good enough to fuck you, but I’m not good enough to talk to you? Is that it?!”
If he was publicly humiliating her on purpose - he would have been louder. If he was using this as some kind of sick form of punishment for not turning up to his second attempt at a seduction - there would have been something smug behind his voice. If he was doing it out of spite, or for the sake of his ego - he would have waved passing students over for an audience, wanting them to hear it all. Instead, there was something almost shameful in his voice. Almost quiet. He was embarrassing himself by practically admitting to everyone, and maybe himself, that he had gotten her into his bed, only for her to run away the next morning in the same, rumpled clothes. There was no reason to be smug about that. He looked at her as though she had done nothing but use him, and for the first time - Wednesday stopped to wonder if perhaps she had. There was hurt in his voice, and pain in his eyes. She wondered if he had been avoiding the mirror, too.
“I got what I wanted, okay? And you were good. Run and tell everyone if you want, I don’t care. Tell them all how you fucked me. But that’s it, okay? I don’t want anything else from you.”
He clenched his jaw. “I don’t believe you.”
“I don’t care”, she spat. Trying once again, to get past him.
Tyler held firm, this time tugging her closer with his grip on the material of her blazer. His large hand slipped underneath it, feeling the soft material of her dark grey vest underneath. His hand practically swallowed her whole. “Last night. Why didn’t you come?”
Wednesday glared at him from underneath her eyelashes. “I’m not that easy.”
He looked at her as if she was stupid. “Wednesday, fucking hell - I didn’t invite you over to fuck you again. I wanted us to talk.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yes”, Tyler snapped.
In truth, he couldn’t put it into words. He didn’t know how else to tell her - just how humiliating it was, to stay up and wait for her like that. He cleaned his room again, trashing every empty can and hiding his dirty laundry pile in his closet so that she wouldn’t take him for a total slob. He sprayed down and wiped his desk surface, and fluffed his pillows just in case he managed to convince her to stay the night. Holding her, nothing else. Tyler paced the floor of his dorm for hours before 8pm, wiping his sweaty palms on his sweatpants. Nibbling on his bottom lip, biting his fingernails. It felt different somehow, more delicate than the previous night she was at his dorm room. This time, something was on the line. The clocked ticked by, and the minutes passed and Tyler wondered what possibly could have made her late. He stayed awake, contemplating messaging Enid to ask for Wednesday’s phone number. But that felt a little too pathetic. He shook the thoughts away, reminding himself that she had come to him before, she would again. That the night they spent together meant something to her. He could see it plain on her face, even if she didn’t. But it wasn’t until the candles he lit began to burn out, that he realised she wasn’t coming.
His voice broke a little. “Do you know how shitty it felt? Waking up alone?”
The truth was, Tyler had fallen asleep a little later than Wednesday that night. Once he felt her breathing grow steady, he pulled his head out from where it had been tucked into the crook of her neck. He rolled his eyes upwards to look at her, taking in her fluttered eyelashes, the smoothness of her cheeks. Still a little flushed. His fingers clenched and unclenched around her, trying to knead into her like an affectionate cat. Wanting to remind himself that she was really there, and that she wasn’t going anywhere. He dreamed about waking up and fucking her again, slowly this time. Taking time to savour every moment, every sound that poured from her lips. He dreamed about bringing her breakfast, of braiding her hair for her before class. Exchanging secret smiles, kissing the mark he left before reluctantly letting her cover it from the general public. It didn’t matter if he got to have her in private.
Wednesday swallowed, breaking eye contact.
“I woke up, expecting you to be there - wanting you to be there…”, he shook his head. “But you weren’t. After letting me fuck you, you treated me like I was nothing. Like I wasn’t even there. And then yesterday…you let me do it again. And once you got what you wanted again, you did the exact same thing. You were off, just like that. Do you know how that made me feel?”
His room had never felt so cold. Window open, curtains blowing gently with the chilling wind. Sun not yet high enough in the sky to warm his bare skin. Its light reflected over the curves of his shoulders, but it burned cold. Sheets cold, empty. Tyler pathetically checked the bathroom before finally admitting to himself that she had snuck out of his bed at the first opportunity. It was then that he noticed the time, stumbling around his room in an effort to find his uniform. Getting dressed with shaky fingers, huffing to blow his wild curls out of his face. He was too tired to run a comb through them. He spared himself a glance in the mirror, realising how pathetic he looked. Like a loser. Had he really been so naive? He selfishly thought that he could make it up to her through scorching touches, by making her feel things that she had never felt before. He stupidly thought that she wanted more than his hands, more than his body. And so, swallowing down how pathetic it felt, as rather a last resort — he cornered her at school. Hoping to remind her of why she should give him a chance, and he told himself that if she only wanted him for this - well, he was willing to take it. He would give it to her good. And yet, there she went again. Running down the hallway, refusing to talk. Not even interested enough to let him have her like that. It was painful to realise that he hadn’t done enough to keep her. He just wasn’t good enough.
Wednesday opened her mouth to retort, to argue against his claims. She hadn’t used him, she had just —
Her argument fell short. There was nothing for her to say.
While she was opening her mouth, trying to collect words that she knew wouldn’t mean much at all — students started to filter into the hallway. Looking at them cautiously, not used to seeing them alone. Whispers started echoing in the stone walls around them, and she knew they would soon make their rounds through the entirety of Nevermore. Wednesday could remember how much she wanted him to get caught in the beginning - with all the frustrating, little ways that he fought to get her attention. She could remember one specific circumstance when they were in botany class. While packing her bag away and walking past his desk, before she could understand how it had happened, her hand was in his grip. Tyler had latched onto her hand, holding it tightly whilst still looking down at his notes, finishing his sentence. She tried to seethe at him, pulling out of his grip but he held firm. He didn’t even look at her. It drove her insane. Just when she turned around to alert someone, to call him out on his behaviour — he let go. It was like a game. He walked away as if nothing had happened, as if he just wanted to hold her hand for a moment. Wednesday could feel smoke practically blowing out of her ears. But now - there was nothing she wanted less than to be caught in his vicinity. She feared that they all knew somehow.
Tyler could see it on her face - the moment fear soaked into her eyes, flittering around aimlessly. She was looking for an escape route, seconds away from fleeing like a skittish animal.
“I’m not doing this anymore, Wednesday”, he warned her for the last time, quietly.
She looked up at him defiantly, and he was no longer concerned with blowing their cover. With a raise of his eyebrows, face going cold as if the Hyde was at the surface - he stalked towards her. He didn’t hesitate before locking his large hands around the back of her thighs, hoisting her over his shoulder without any effort. Suddenly, her world was upside down. Voices squawking around them, wondering what was going on. Red, hot embarrassment flooded through Wednesday. She brought her fists down, pounding on his back with all of her strength. He barely even flinched, tightening his hold on her thighs with one hand, before lifting the other - giving her ass a harsh smack. Wednesday practically hissed at him in reply, doubling her efforts, scratching at him. Without a word, he carried her over his shoulder, away from the small crowd that had formed. One of his hands stayed on her firm ass, squeezing possessively. Warning her.
By the time they reached his dorm, the blood had rushed up to her face - cheeks burning red. Out of anger, light-headedness and mortification. She felt like a child throwing a tantrum. Braids flying wildly as he carried her through the halls, kicking open his door with his foot, before unceremoniously dropping her onto his bed. Sitting there on the edge of his mattress, watching him close the door behind him - Wednesday seethed. He leaned his entire body against the door, giving her no means for escape. Wednesday felt like a child in time out.
“You have no right to manhandle me like that!” She practically growled.
Tyler clenched his fists, glaring at her. “But you have the right to treat me like shit?”
“You are going to move out of my way this—“
“I couldn’t give a shit about your stupid pride, Wednesday”, he snapped, looking like he was trying to catch his breath, “…I care about this. Us.”
Wednesday stood up from the bed, storming right up to him. “There is no us.”
“Do you actually think I believe a word that you’re saying?” He laughed incredulously, looking at her like she was stupid, “…I know you, cockroach. I know you run away when you get scared. When you get overwhelmed.”
She spat the word out like it was an insult. “I’m not overwhelmed.”
Tyler sighed, pinching at the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. Loving her was exhausting. It had been since the very moment they met, part of him intrigued and curious about the pretty kooky girl that made him jump out of his skin. Since he found out she was his mark, instructed to hover around her like dangling a worm on a hook, waiting for the fish to bite. It was exhausting, laying awake wondering why he cared for her. Why it made him squirm uncomfortably to imagine her hung up in the crypt, learning of his real intentions this entire time. Why it made a part of him ache to know that she would never look at him the same again. Loving her had always been exhausting, but he never had a choice.
“Wednesday”, he breathed, finally leaning off the doorframe, holding his hands up in surrender. To show her that he carried no weapon, that caging her in wasn’t something that he enjoyed. “I get it. You didn’t expect to feel that much, and definitely not with me. I know that it freaked you out. But…please, I—“
Her voice wobbled. “Stop.”
“I-I can’t hide how I feel. Don’t you get it? I never could! Why do you think I even did all of that stupid shit - trying to get your attention, trying to make you notice me? If you were hating me - at least you were acknowledging me. I couldn’t…I couldn’t bear it if you…”
The entire time - it had been a way of making sure that he still had her somehow. That he still had a hold over her, even if only by driving her insane. He could live with being her arch nemesis. Because after all, that would inevitably mean that she thought about him. Maybe even spent time planning his demise, thinking up devious ways to knock him down, to make him squirm. It was that excitement that drove him in the first few weeks of their new semester - what stopped him from leaving her space. He damn near lived in the crook of her neck, breathing down the curve of it at every opportunity. He flicked her ears, tugged on her braids, snuck kisses on the top of her head. Always jumping away at the last second, right before she could pull out her switchblade and do some real damage. Always pulling out of her space before others noticed, even though he was pretty sure that they already had. What did she think he was doing all that time? His sick little game of giving affection, was a quiet way of ensuring that he still took up space in her mind. A dark, little corner - collecting cobwebs. If he nudged her enough, maybe the space would grow. Wednesday was looking at him as if he had grown two heads, and it suddenly occurred to him that maybe she hadn’t realised - maybe she really was clueless. Didn’t she understand what she did to him? How much he wanted her?
“Wednesday.”
He uttered her name with such care. As if it was the only word that mattered, and it was the way his voice broke that started to punch holes in her resolve.
Shamefully, she looked down at the ground and began to speak. “You already fooled me once.”
Tyler’s expression grew grim.
“I thought about it. Last night”, she clarified, shaking her head, “…I thought about coming here and seeing you, and I even thought I might let you touch me again. But I couldn’t.”
“Why?” He stressed.
“The second I woke up, I felt like another notch on your belt. And after fooling me once already, I’m sure I was the biggest trophy high on your shelf. Your grand achievement. I knew that the second you woke up, I’d have to see the look on your face. I already felt a loser. And so I turned myself into a one night stand, because letting you do it would have been too much for me.”
It was too embarrassing and painful to even admit it to him, aloud - but she had felt like just another notch on his belt before. Chained up in the crypt, looking at the boy that was walking around with her first kiss. And while for her, it had meant something - to him, it was just a kiss. A ploy. Something he had probably done with countless girls, out of choice. This - was something that earned him extra points on the scoreboard. A pat on the head from his master. In realising that she had lowered her walls, carefully and surely, choosing to give him her first kiss - she further solidified her place as the pawn in their sick little game. And that kiss - to him, was another reason to laugh at her. A bonus round. The final blow. Going home after the events at Nevermore, had been humiliating. While Wednesday expected to feel proud for having defeated Crackstone and having saved the school, taking down the person responsible for wrecking havoc - all she felt was shame. Admitting to her family that there had been one more person involved, right underneath her nose the entire time. The love interest turned psychotic villain. And that she hadn’t suspected him once. In the eyes of her parents, it was a love story as old as time itself - but Wednesday just felt cheated. It was easy to pretend that she didn’t care.
Tyler looked a little ashamed of himself, but there was a quiet determination in his voice. “Wednesday, you…you have to know—“
“What?” She looked at him tiredly, fight leaving her.
“You are so much more than that…”, he strode forward, taking her tiny face in his hands. She was like a small china doll, blinking up at him with such emotion. She probably didn’t even realise how much of it was pouring out of her. It made him feel like the villain all over again. “You’re…can’t you see it? You’ve had me since the beginning. Sometimes I think a part of me will always be yours…and it terrifies me. To think that you aren’t mine, too.”
In all of the moments that Wednesday had feared Tyler exposing them without thought — she never stopped to realise that he hadn’t. Despite the burning look in his eyes that told her he would have no problem claiming her in public, making her scream in front of everyone. Despite every opportunity, his threats were empty. He might have made her come in an empty classroom just off a crowded hallway, but he had pulled them into the secluded space to keep her safe. And while he took pleasure in taunting how hard she was finding staying quiet, his hand had covered her mouth even firmer than her own. Wanting to keep her noises to himself. And even though he had yanked her over his shoulder and smacked her ass in front of the student body - he wasn’t parading her through the hallway, no — he was trying to get her alone. So that they could talk. Away from the whispers, away from the stares. Away from her pride and the walls that held their history. Instead, he brought her to the last place he made her feel safe. He only ever wanted her in private, getting a side of her that nobody else would see.
This time, when her lips found his — it was less of an attack. Her hands still gripped the lapels of his blazer, but she held on tight instead of yanking him towards her roughly. She let herself sink into his arms, instead of stumbling into them clumsily. Tyler groaned against her mouth, the sound muffled - walking her back until they were at the foot of his bed. With all the fluidity of water, their bodies tumbled onto the mattress - Wednesday straddling either side of his hips. She was so small, so weightless in his arms. One of his hands cupped the side of her face, tilting her head, fingers spreading open and covering almost the entirety of her skull. The other pawed at her waist fervidly, the size of his hand spanning across her entire ribcage. Their mouths moved together, tongues fighting, teeth nipping, hands exploring and squeezing. Most of all, it was the closeness that felt good. It felt right, to be in each other’s arms again. They lazily made out for a while, Wednesday soft and pliant in his lap. Wrapped up in his hold, with no intention of moving. His hand moved the strands of hair that fell into her face, tucking them behind her ear for better access. He hummed deep in his throat when he felt her grabbing at him with a little more need, a little less shame. She wound her arms tighter around his neck, leaning closer.
“Don’t you feel it?”, Tyler murmured against her lips between kisses. They were slow, achingly hot and full of want. His tongue sinful, wet and warm against her own.
For a moment, he was afraid that Wednesday would mistake the question for a thoughtless taunt, another way to poke fun at her. But she simply buried her hands in his curls and tugged hard. Tyler let out a noise of relief against her mouth, sinking into her a little deeper.
Her nimble fingers worked at pushing the thick material of his school blazer off his shoulders, and Tyler broke the kiss to assist her. Next, she loosened his tie and let it hang limply around his neck. Pulling back to look at her, his eyes were half-lidded, focused on the redness of her lips. They looked freshly-bitten, just a little swollen. It made him let out a quiet groan and go back in for a taste of more. His hand curled around her waist tighter, slipping underneath her own blazer, and underneath her dark-grey vest, until his fingers were digging into the crisp white material of her button-up shirt. The material was warmer, and he knew that her skin would be burning hot underneath. Burning for him. Tyler pulled away once more, ignoring her irritated noise. He took in every single detail - from the flyaways around her braids, to the school crest on her uniform. The uniform swallowed her and it was finished with sharp edges, a harsh contrast to the slight curves and soft skin that he knew lay underneath. He reached up to tug playfully at her tie, and his lips quirked up as he noticed her eyelashes flutter a little. So many possibilities.
Tyler pushed her own blazer away from her shoulders, letting the fabric fall to the floor behind her. His own was thrown carelessly across the room, long forgotten. Next, his fingers worked on untucking her white shirt from her long, heavy skirt. She still had her laced up, combat boots on and they were digging into the sides of his thighs. Once his hands met the hot flesh underneath her shirt, they both sighed. Carelessly, he began dragging it upwards until the buttons physically stopped him. From there, Wednesday pulled away from where she was sucking on his tongue, huffing impatiently - moving to rid herself of the grey vest. From there, her own hands worked on the buttons of her shirt. She made it halfway, just the lace of her bralette peeking through - when he leaned back, forcing her to fall against his chest a little more. Collapsing into him, hips more flush against his own. He worked on a slow grind, rolling his hips up into hers until she gasped.
God, he was so good at this.
It was unfair.
With every slide of his lips against hers, Wednesday felt herself begin to squirm. At the feeling of her impatient wriggling, Tyler tore his mouth away from hers and flicked his tongue across the ridge of her jaw. At the sensation of her panting in his ear, his own heady arousal took over - hips bucking up into hers. Through his black trousers and her heavy skirt, the friction was delicious, but nowhere near enough. He moved to adjust and bunch up the fabric of her skirt further, but Wednesday let out a small, protesting whine. He paused, seeing the bliss on her face. Her fingers scrambling against his neck, trying to find something to hold onto. The almost cross-eyed look in her eyes was one that he knew well, and awe lit up on his face.
“You think you could—“
She let out a high-pitched sound, grounding her centre down against him more firmly. Her movements growing sloppy, trying desperately to get as close to him as possible. It was a little embarrassing - how worked up she was already.
Tyler’s lips covered her own again, messy and greedy. Tongue flicking across the curve of her defined cupid’s bow, wetting the small patch of skin with his saliva. He swallowed another moan, hands moving down to her perky ass, pulling her tighter against him. Using it as leverage to grind their hips together, his cock half-hard in his school trousers.
He planted a trail of damp kisses down her neck, feeling her hips stutter. Her leg muscles clenching and releasing around him, fingers scratching at his scalp. He watched her with wonder, a hint of something smug in his voice.
“Does it really feel that good?” Tyler asked, lips quirking up against her cheek. “Or are you just that desperate?”
Wednesday keened.
He leaned back, letting one of his hands fall backwards to support his weight on the mattress behind him. The other slid up from her ass to the curve of her hip, assisting her frantic movements. It was addictive, sitting back and watching her chase her pleasure. She arched her back, the lace of her bralette revealing itself more to him as her movement pushed her chest into his face. Tyler licked his lips at the thought of getting his mouth on her nipples again. Last time she was so impatient, and he wanted to see just how far he could push her before she crumbled. He wondered if he could make her come just with his mouth on her chest. Or her neck. Wednesday huffed, muscles growing tired as Tyler forced her to do the majority of the work. But she was so needy for him, aching for the pressure of his body against her own. She growled quietly in frustration, her movements sloppy and out of rhythm.
Tyler reached his hand up, pushing her hair out of her face. Stroking her cheek fondly, he tried to coax her into continue, “Come on, baby. You can do it.”
“I-I need…”
“Just let me see you come like this…”, he soothed, hand running down the curve of her spine. “Then I’ll make you feel good, I promise.”
It was a primal instinct, wanting to watch her fall apart without his help. Just by rubbing her sweet little body against him, rutting her hips against his own, rolling and grinding to reach her peak. It filled him with a sense of pride, that she was that needy for him. But at the same time, it was almost a form of light punishment. Getting to watch her forehead slick with sweat, eyes glazed over with determination to get herself off on him. Clothes rumpled, but uniform still on. Getting to hear her pant and whine in frustration at the lack of friction, but how every so often, with the right angle — a high-pitched cry would escape. She wanted to feel close to him. And after all of these games, all of this back and forth - selfishly, he loved seeing her so torn apart for him. Dishevelled and flushed, Wednesday chased her high.
“Getting yourself off on me…”, Tyler groaned with pleasure at the feeling, his length aching at the friction, “…letting me give you what you need without even touching you. So fucking hot.”
She practically collapsed at that, losing her rhythm for a moment. He used a hand to help her pick it back up, taking mercy on her for a moment. At the added touch and stimulation, she was clenching tight around him, squeezing him like a boa constrictor.
“There you go, baby. Come on.”
After a few more jerked movements - Wednesday let out a long cry and her head fell into the crook of his neck. Her body weight collapsing into his, hips twitching with aftershocks of her orgasm before slowly coming to a stop. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, her hair messy and out of place. There was a certain kind of intimacy with knowing that she had rubbed herself against him like a cat in heat, too impatient to remove her clothes or even move them aside. Instead, she worked with what she had and hurdled towards her goal. She couldn’t wait, she needed the release. With a whine, Wednesday slowly realised that it only took the edge off. Somehow, after the consecutive orgasms over the past couple of days - her body ached with the emptiness. It craved more. He had ruined her. Miserably, she lifted her head and let Tyler brush the bangs sticking to her forehead away. He swallowed her embarrassed sound with another wet kiss, tongue sliding against her own. Giving her bottom lip a gentle nip, he nudged her nose with his own. Looking at her with something akin to tenderness.
It had taken her this long to realise it, but it was the tenderness that Wednesday had been running away from. It was the tenderness that she couldn’t trust. Not too long ago, she had associated Tyler with everything that was good, and kind, and tender. She had seen him as the boy with stars in his eyes, with the sunshine soul. A little too bright, a little too good for her. When he turned on her, she thought she might never find any warmth in him again. And yet, he still looked at her the same somehow. Still with a touch of awe, still as if he didn’t know if he was dreaming. She still didn’t understand it, and maybe she never would. How that Tyler, and this Tyler could still feel the same tenderness for her - how they could still be so easy to trust. It terrified her, how easily she wanted to fall into him. Without hope, without expectation. It was as if her heart had prior knowledge, more of an inkling than she did. It knew that he was safe - that he would be good to her. And that maybe they would be good to each other.
“Fuck, lie down…” he coaxed, lips parted. “I want you beneath me.”
The part of Wednesday that wanted to be small, lit up at that. He flipped them over and before she knew it, he was unbuttoning his own shirt down to the middle of his chest, before tugging it over his head. She had seen him above her before, all bare and golden skin. But she felt light-headed at the sight of it again. The rippling shoulder muscles above her, bulging biceps, veiny forearms pressing down either side of her head. His skin was endlessly golden, too bright for words. Littered with moles - the same pattern smattered across the back of his shoulders and spine. His brown nipples pert and waiting for her attention, his abdominal muscles clenching with effort to not crush her. All smooth, indented skin - flat stomach and lightly-defined V-line. Without his shirt, she could see the band of his boxers peeking out of his trousers. They were white, contrasting beautifully against his golden skin - words spelling out Calvin Klein.
Her favourite moles were the little three in a line, stating from the middle of his sternum - leading to halfway down his left ribcage. But the tiny one on the edge of his V-line drew her crazy. Her fingers snuck down to the band of his boxers, feeling the material tight against his skin. His muscles jumped at the sensitivity so close to his length, and she felt her lips twist upwards as she moved to undo the button on his trousers and pull down the zipper.
Tyler pressed another few impatient kisses against her mouth, before bunching the material of her skirt up at her waist. It was long and heavy, frustratedly so. But he didn’t let it deter him, looking down to make sure that it was out of his way. She was wearing a pair of black cotton panties, complete with a delicate bow and a small silver gem at the front. They were delicate, the band thin on her hips. She had chosen to forgo the tights again, opting for black knee-high socks instead. It seemed to be the right move, judging by how he ran his hands over the softness of them. His hands overwhelmingly big on her supple thighs, trembling under his attention. Tyler leaned down to press an adoring kiss to the edge of one of the knee-highs, before crawling further down to unlace her boots. Once she kicked them off the edge of the bed, spreading her legs to make room for him - his head ducked down. For a while, he just ran his tongue over the edge of her right knee-high sock, rolling his eyes up to watch her squirm with anticipation. After dragging them down, one by one — she was practically glaring at him to hurry up.
His mouth nestled closer, pressing an open mouthed kiss against the front seam of her panties.
Wednesday’s head smacked backwards against the sheets, his tongue wet and hot even through the material blocking him from her flesh. She could still feel every flick, every movement. The pressure was slight, but enough to have her letting out soft, broken sighs.
“U-Under”, she tried to instruct, hands fisting in the sheets helplessly.
Tyler merely hummed and continued making out with her throbbing centre through her black panties. His tongue soaking the material, making it thinner with every passing moment. Less of a barrier to work through. And yet, he refused to move it aside. Her hips bucked upwards in desperation, searching for more pressure. Instead of moving her panties aside and giving her what she truly wanted - he merely dug his tongue in deeper, adding more pressure. Harsher flicks against the swollen bump that he could feel through the fabric.
“I think you could come like this, too”, he mused quietly, eyes flicking up to her with humour in them. “What do you think?”
Wednesday shook her head with a whine, a silent plea. His hand spread her open more, making more room for his shoulders to nestle in. His thumb stroked against the crease of her thigh, the same spot that drove her crazy the first time. The gentle touch in contrast with his teasing flicks and sloppy kisses against her core — it was enough to make her whimper. Louder this time, more demanding. Tyler didn’t look like he was taking pity on her anytime soon, eyes closed - lips working effortlessly against her. He looked like he could go for hours, keeping her there on the edge until she cried. Fear struck her at the thought. Would he really leave her hanging? In act of desperation, and hoping to convince him to go easy on her - her hands left the sheets and found their way back into his hair. Fingers tangling in his curls, pulling gently, fingernails scraping against his scalp. His head picked up the rhythm, rocking back and forth with the movements of his tongue. He hummed against her, and the vibration released a choked moan.
Tyler swirled his tongue around the fabric once more, nipping through it gently. Wednesday’s legs jumped up a little at that, her knee almost hitting him. He chuckled, taking pity before pushing the fabric of her panties aside so that he could firmly lick at the wetness that had collected there. She was soaked for him, practically dripping.
“Fuck, cockroach”, he breathed against her, sucking at her clit for a moment. “You’re so sensitive, aren’t you?”
She hiccuped, lost in the sensation of his tongue.
“I bet I could just make you come over and over again…”
Wednesday slapped an arm over her face.
“You want that?” He teased, pulling away to nip high on her thigh. “I think you’d like it. How many did we get last time? Three?”
“Tyler.”
“So fucking bossy.”
After that, he lowered his head once more and sucked hard at her clit. Flicking it persistently with his tongue, using his other hand to press her lower stomach down. The pressure combined with the strokes, his tongue flattening and then pulling back into a point, swirling around the bud - became too much all too quickly. Wednesday whined loudly, useless when it came to control her volume. All that she could feel was the overwhelming, hot pressure building in her core. Her orgasm approaching fast, until she finally fell over the edge with a series of harsh pants. Tyler kept at it, swirling his tongue and collecting up her fresh slicked arousal until she physically had to tap at his shoulders. It wasn’t until her insistent tapping became more like punches against his upper back, that he huffed a laugh and pulled away from her oversensitive folds.
“Come here”, she practically begged, pulling his face back up to hers. She was struggling to catch her breath, but she went for his mouth straight away. Sliding her lips against his, moaning at the taste of herself on his tongue. There was something obscenely dirty about it, and it made her hot all over - skin prickled with heat.
Tyler searched her face, checking in. “You okay to keep going?’
“P-Please”, she gasped out. Her back arching in anticipation, even though he was just hovering above her. His length aching in his trousers, stretching the material uncomfortably.
“I’ve spoiled you, haven’t I?”, he taunted, tilting his head, sucking along her neck. “You can’t even go a couple of days without wanting me inside you.”
Wednesday’s face darkened.
“How long do you think you would have lasted? Hmm?” His tongue traced a line down her right cheek, her face scrunching up in annoyance. “I’d give it less than a week before you would have come crawling to me, begging me to fuck you again”
“I do not beg.”
He gave her a look of disbelief, tilting his head as he recalled her begging him not even a minute prior. Desperate for him between her legs. But instead of calling her out on it and making her even more mad at him, Tyler decided to give her what she wanted. Once she stopped complaining, and only then - would he start to play dirty.
As he leaned back to remove his trousers and her skirt, he unbuttoned her shirt the rest of the way. Leaving it to hang open, baring her black lacy bralette. He traced a finger down the smooth surface of her upper torso, tapping her ribcage gently before reaching for a condom. Just as he began to tear open the wrapper, he felt a tug on his arm and looked down at the girl blinking up at him. Looking a little embarrassed, but determined.
“I’m on birth control.”
She wouldn’t look him in the eye, settling her gaze over his shoulder while she waited for his reaction. Tyler almost came right there and then. His eyes popping out of his skull, lips parting as he waited for her to elaborate, or to laugh in his face at how easily he believed her. When she didn’t, he shakily put it back down on the beside table.
His voice was thick, “Are you—“
Her eyes finally snapped to his, a fire behind them.“Considering how you refused to leave me alone this past semester, I’m fairly certain you have not been with anyone else.”
Tyler blinked back at her.
“Am I right?” She pushed, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah”, he choked out, “…fuck — you’re right. I haven’t.”
She nodded and looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to get on with it. Tyler suddenly panicked, trying his best to steady his breathing. His hand reached up to run through his curls, head spinning. Even imagining the sensation of her wet, tight heat wrapped around his thick length, squeezing - had him fearful. Even imagining the slow drag of his veins against her walls, feeling them contract and constrict around him with each thrust - had him terrified that he would finish embarrassingly quick. He had to make it good for her. This time, there was not an overwhelming fear that if he didn’t make her come over and over, she would run off and find pleasure in another. There was no pride. Instead, he simply wanted her to feel good. He wanted to hover over her afterwards, getting to see her breathless and boneless - spread out in the sheets. Too tired to even lift her head, or to speak a word. But as he lined himself up with her entrance, spreading the last of her arousal around the flushed, pink head of his cock - Tyler squeezed his eyes shut and prayed to god.
The first inch of him sliding into her warm heat, they both stuttered out moans. Pausing to take a breath, Tyler pinned her arms down with one wrist, limiting her movement. Whilst part of it was to take enjoyment in watching her squirm, most of it was to ensure that he could concentrate on lasting longer. If she started tugging on his hair or scratching at the top of his back, the sting might cause him to empty into her and ruin everything before it had barely begun. When he moved his hips forward further and thrust his length into her, about halfway — Wednesday gasped at the intrusion. Her walls stretching to accommodate him again, the feeling overwhelming. It didn’t hurt, but it was a struggle. It felt different. She wondered if she would ever get used to the feeling, or if their size difference would forever make her thighs tremble, walls clenching with the effort to take him fully. After a few more breaths and a nip at her shoulder, their pelvis’ met in the middle. His length bottomed out inside of her, tip pressed against her cervix.
“You’re—“ Wednesday whined, sounding like she was complaining even though she definitely wasn’t, “…so deep.”
Tyler closed his eyes and ducked his head down. “Fuck, please don’t say that. Just — don’t say anything. Please.”
If she had her wits about her, Wednesday might have taken him up on the challenge. She might have pulled out her dirtiest words, whispering right in his ear about how she wanted to watch him fall apart. She wanted to see the red flush on his cheeks as he spilled his load, letting out an embarrassing whimper from the humiliation. She wanted to feel him trickling out of her, right out of the empty space because he left her with an ache. But instead, she was struggling herself not to wheeze. He was so big - stretching her out, forcing her body to make room for him. Without the barrier between them, she could feel every curve on his member, every vein that bulged and brushed up against her with every movement. It was too much. There was a friction between them that there hadn’t been before, but a smoothness from her slick. Binding them together, causing a squelching sound with every thrust of his hips. Tyler kept his pace relatively slow at first, trying desperately to hold on and to keep his cool. His hips rolled into hers, hand pressing her wrists down into the mattress so that she couldn’t scramble to hold onto him. He needed to keep control, he needed to make this last longer.
But then she clenched down on him hard, walls fluttering in a sudden orgasm and Tyler cried out a curse. Having to pull out of her for a moment, so that he didn’t spill inside of her. His head was red and angry, wet with pre-cum as he glanced down at it. He was aching. Wednesday let out a frustrated sound at the lack of pressure, her core clenching around nothing.
Tyler swore under his breath. “Fuck, Wednesday—“
“I—“ she whined, looking up at him with tears in her eyes, “…It felt so—“
He leaned down, pressing his face into her neck as he used his thumb and forefinger to press tightly around the base of his member. Applying pressure, easing the ache that remained. Forcing himself to calm down, to get a handle on things.
“Tyler”, Wednesday pleaded, big, shiny dark eyes looking up at him.
A groan escaped him, but he gradually slid back into her. She was even tighter after her recent orgasm, and he gritted his teeth to push through the ache that began to build up. Determined to distract himself and make her come even harder next time - his hand left her wrists and travelled down to her chest. His fingers pulled down the cups on her bralette, baring her nipples to him. They were already peaked, longing for his attention. He leaned down and took one between his teeth, tugging harshly. Wednesday let out a quiet cry, tear slipping down her cheek. To soothe the sting, he lathed his tongue over the sensitive nub, sucking it into his mouth and sucking gently. He let it go with an audible pop, still grinding his hips into Wednesday, letting his member drag against her walls to stimulate more friction. Abandoning the left nipple, his lips settled around the one on the right side of her chest. He flicked it with his tongue several times, before feeling saliva collect in his mouth. He let it pool, dripping a fat wad of saliva right over the nipple. Wednesday whimpered at the wet sensation, feeling his tongue swirl his own mess around her chest.
Feeling confident enough to pick up the pace, Tyler sped up his thrusts and reluctantly pulled away from her chest. Instead, his forearms rested on the mattress either side of her head, caging her in. When he leaned down, it was almost as if he was caging her in with his body, hiding her from the rest of their surroundings. Only letting her focus on him. Wednesday’s hands came up to curl around his forearms, feeling them bulge with the strain of holding his weight. At a particularly harsh thrust, she keened loudly and wrapped her arms around his tightly, holding onto him for dear life. Her forehead brushed against one of his forearms with every movement, and in an act of retaliation — she gave his golden skin a firm bite. He shuddered around her at the sensation, groaning lowly at the feeling of her teeth digging into his flesh. Not enough to draw blood, but enough to make his cock twitch inside of her.
“God, you look so good like this”, he murmured between thrusts, feeling her legs wrap tighter around his hips. “So good, lying beneath me. All stretched out.”
“M-More”, she stuttered, feeling his curls tickle her forehead.
Tyler leaned in close, watching her face twist with pleasure. Her mouth dropping open, eyebrows scrunching up, cheeks glowing with the light sheen of sweat. He would never get enough of just watching her. Knowing that she allowed him to see her like this, allowed him to touch her again after he poured his heart out to her. Every moment of humiliation, every tremor in his voice as he wondered if she would kick him to the curb again - it was all worth it. Every moment that he stopped to question her feelings for him - he knew better now. Her face was an open book, he had just been too busy wallowing in his own self-pity to pay attention to it. Once again, Tyler felt the heat coil in his stomach at the thought of knowing that nobody else would ever get to see her like this. She was spread open beneath him, his length pushing in and out of her, hips grinding against her own, face hovering above her. He had been the only one to touch her, the only one to fuck her - the only one to have her in his arms and live to tell the tale.
“You’d do anything I say when you’re like this, wouldn’t you?” He cooed quietly, bending slightly to press a kiss to her forehead.
With another few thrusts, Wednesday was letting out a series of soft sobs and practically begging him to slow down. “S-Slow…”
Before he could comply, she was clenching around him hard - trembling in his hold. This time, her orgasm pretty much rendered her useless. Her lead lulled back, a trail of drool spilling out the side of her mouth. Tyler leaned down to lick it up, nudging at her face affectionately. He didn’t even wait for her to come down properly before he slowed down the pace, this time opting for slower, harder thrusts to get her there again. His hips slammed into hers, releasing a strangled cry - or what sounded more like a squeal - from her parted lips.
“Come on, baby”, Tyler murmured, using his weight to press her down further into the mattress. “I’m not done with you yet.”
Wednesday practically sobbed, her vision blurring from the intensity of the pressure. Instead of the quick, punishing movements of before - Tyler was pounding his head into the sensitive wall of her cervix with every thrust. Hard enough to make her want to scream. The pleasure mixed with the pain and all she could do was lie there and take it, too far gone to ask him for mercy. Selfishly, she didn’t want him to stop. For all she cared, her limbs might never work again. But it didn’t matter, as long as he kept fucking her. Splitting her open, sinking into her nice and deep.
Tyler felt his own release climbing up his spine, but he was determined to feel her shake around him once more. While she was speechless and drooling now, he wanted her to be completely half-asleep by the time he was finished. He wanted no space left for her to argue, no fight left in her but to allow him to hold her. He wanted her to be too tired to even attempt to sneak out the next morning without waking him first.
He reached down and circled her swollen clit with his thumb. Her folds were so sensitive, the little nub red and soaked with her wetness. She practically jerked away from him at the intense sensation, and the sudden pressure to her clit. It had her wailing around him, so much so that he grew alarmed at the level of noise.
“Are you—“
Wednesday whined loudly, her arms tightening around his neck. Her nails digging into the bottom of his scalp in anger. “D-D—“
“Fuck”, he breathed, moaning brokenly.
She was such a mess, but all she could do was beg for more. Beg for him not to stop.
It was the feeling of her falling over the edge one last time with a high-pitched strained whimper, that broke his control. The harder he pounded into her, chasing his own release — the more liquid gushed out of her. She squirted all over her thighs and the sheets, trembling beneath him, eyes fluttering to a close. She couldn’t even move. Tyler looked down at her blissed out, sleepy face and spilled deep into her, filling her with his warmth.
As he collected himself and stumbled into the bathroom, stretching his aching joints and tired muscles — Tyler pinched himself to make sure that he wasn’t dreaming. As he came back with a wet cloth and cleaned between Wednesday’s legs, soaking up the wetness and scooping out their joined fluids gently — he hoped that she would always let him take care of her. He tenderly brushed her bangs out of her eyes, reaching behind to remove the rest of her white shirt and unclasp her bralette so that she would be more comfortable. He slid into the bed beside her and tucked a blanket underneath her chin, hoping to keep her warm throughout the night. Securing his arms around her exhausted, limp body - Tyler pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. Tasting the saltiness of her sweat there, the dampness of her skin. Swiping a thumb over her cheekbone, he felt the world go still. It often did when he was close to her. It was impossible to look at, think about, or barely even breathe whilst she was in his vicinity. He ran a finger across her eyelid, testing to see them flutter. She was still awake, but just barely. He hugged her tighter in response and let out a heavy sigh against her forehead.
“If you even think about leaving in the morning…I swear to God, I will tie a goddamn bell around your neck if I have to.”
Wednesday merely grumbled into his neck in response, nestling in closer.