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Rain had been falling all Saturday morning, tapping harshly against the skylights of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Most of the main staff had gone home for the day due to that night’s fundraising gala. Mostly everyone but one, a beautifully dressed woman who was pacing around the brightly lit room…
Enid Sinclair stopped in front of a marble figurine, arms crossed, her tablet balanced against her hip. The piece was unique even in its damaged state. It was a sixteenth-century Italian carving of two intertwined figures, one hand pressed over the other’s heart, and to the museum’s misfortune, the wonderful piece had suffered a fall during transport and now had a crack across its chest; it was a hairline but brutal, splitting the stone as if from within.
Enid was supposedly out of the office for the day due to the Gala taking place, but her boss had asked her to come in, leaving her in charge of the figurine. She had been inspecting it since the moment it arrived, documenting every detail, irregularity, and fleck of residue left on it. She had done her job well despite its current fracture. Her boss had decided the situation required a specialist’s input and possible restoration.
She sighed, catching her reflection in the display glass. “How much longer would this specialist take?” She wondered. The gala was set to begin in some hours, and she was stuck waiting instead of getting things set up for the magical night. She was already perfectly dressed and getting increasingly irritated as time went by. Her hair was pinned, her light pink dress hugged her figure with practiced elegance, and a white faux-fur cropped jacket kept her warm against the chill that crept through the museum’s halls due to the heavy rainfall outside. The air held a trace of the perfume she had meant for the gala. She glanced down at her heels; maybe she shouldn’t have opted for her tallest stilettos until later that night, but her shoes were locked in her car out in the rain... Her stilettos were especially made for tonight’s gala, not for babysitting a broken artifact.
The phone call earlier had done nothing to improve her mood. Some distracted man had taken her details, hopefully jotting them down between what sounded like explosions. He assured her someone would be arriving at the museum soon… How long soon was, she didn’t know.
Enid rubbed her temples, trying to avoid the oncoming headache. She had been working at the museum for a while, so she had pictured the specialist as a bespectacled academic with elbow patches and a briefcase, the sort of person who quoted Renaissance poets and smelled faintly of old books and whiskey. She wouldn’t have imagined them to be anything like the person that would be arriving at any minute…
Her surprise began when she heard the low rumble of a motorcycle approaching the museum, the sound growing louder, reverberating through the delivery bay until it cut abruptly. “That’s odd.” She said to herself as she got up, leaving her current workstation. Her heels clacked through the marble floors, ready to inspect the origin of the sound. A moment later, the door opened, and a gust of cold rain swept in. “Uh, hi? The museum is closed, and you’re not supposed to be here.” She announced, reaching for her radio to call in security.
The mysterious visitor just shook their head and began to unclasp their helmet.
The first thought that Enid had upon properly laying her eyes on the person was, “This must be a mistake. The woman who just stepped inside doesn’t belong in a museum.”
Said woman was dressed in black from head to toe. A leather jacket, gloves tucked into her belt, jeans that clung to toned legs, a small toolkit strapped neatly to her thigh, and black Chucks… Her now visible dark hair was kept together in a single braid down her back, her expression unreadable. Her matte black helmet, now held in one hand, finished her out-of-place style. She looked like she belonged in a biker club or a bar rather than here.
“Dr. Wednesday Addams.” The woman introduced herself; her voice was even and clipped. “I am assuming you are Miss Sinclair. You called about a damaged figurine.”
Enid blinked. “You’re Dr. Addams?” She asked incredulously.
Wednesday nodded her head once. “Regrettably. Though I see my gender continues to confuse the unobservant.” She frowned; her words were cold and annoyed. It was enough to make heat creep up the back of Enid’s neck in embarrassment. She straightened her spine, “Right. Yes, I’m Miss. Enid Sinclair. This way, please.” She gestured toward the end of the hall, beckoning Wednesday to follow along. “I was told you specialized in restoration and artifact conservation. I expected…”
“A man in tweed?” Wednesday supplied, walking into the room, setting her helmet on a nearby crate and snapping her thigh pouch open. “You are not the first to confuse scholarship with senility.”
Enid bristled, looking for the right thing to say. “I only meant…”
“That I do not look the part. I assure you, Miss Sinclair, neither do you.” Wednesday said, looking Enid up and down with a scowl.
That look and the way she used her name sent a chill down her spine. “It’s for…the ga…on never mind. That’s um…that’s the piece.” She pointed towards it. Wednesday was already laying out her instruments: fine brushes, narrow spatulas, a small ultraviolet flashlight. The efficiency of her movements was almost surgical.
Enid took a deep breath, trying to recover, falling back on her professionalism. “The piece suffered minor impact damage in transport. I’ve logged the fracture and the surface abrasion, but there’s also some kind of residue…”
Wednesday cut her off without looking up. “That residue is calcite efflorescence, not fungal. Scraping it, as you probably had intended, would have stripped the original patina.” She said matter-of-factly, fixing her glasses as she looked closer.
Enid held back a gasp. “I wasn’t going to scrape it,” She said, sharper than intended. “I was documenting it.”
“With incomplete data,” Wednesday replied. “Your report omits spectral readings.”
Enid stared at her, speechless for a moment. “Spectral readings? Those aren’t standard for condition checks…or a realistic form of data.”
“They are…” Wednesday said with a patiently cutting tone, “…especially when the object in question has a pulse.” She replied like it was the most normal thing in the world.
Enid frowned, “A pulse?”
Wednesday switched on her UV flashlight, the purple light sliding over marble like water. The figurine glowed faintly beneath the UV light. It wasn’t the usual fluorescence of stone, but something rhythmically alive.
Enid stared wide-eyed, “That…can’t be right.”
Wednesday leaned closer, unbothered. “Nothing about history ever is…”
Both women fell silent, and for a moment, the faint light seemed to echo the rhythm of their own heartbeats.
Wednesday turned to Enid, her voice quieter and full of curiosity now. “How long has it been doing that?”
“Doing what exactly?” Enid asked, though she could feel the weight of the answer in her chest.
“Responding,” Wednesday murmured. “Objects like this…remember feelings and touch.”
A chill moved through the room, the air suddenly too still. Enid took a small step back, trying to ignore the prickle down her arms. She had touched the artifact earlier that day and thought she felt resistance under the marble. Maybe it was just her imagination, but now, she wasn’t so sure…
Enid tried to regain her authority, straightening up, stepping forward, her heels clicking sharply on the floor. “Alright, Dr. Addams, enlighten me. Is it cursed? Haunted? Or do you just say things for dramatic effect?”
Wednesday didn’t look up. “I do not perform for anyone. I observe.”
“Well, your observations have terrible bedside manners,” Enid said, crossing her arms over her chest.
“On the contrary.” Wednesday slid her glasses down her nose to look at Enid clinically, “I am told my bedside manners are quite…satisfactory.”
Before she could respond, thunder rolled through the city, illuminating the museum’s halls.
“You’re unbelievable…” Enid rolled her eyes.
Wednesday fixed her glasses and focused her attention back to the statue, “If you find my methods distressing, you are free to return to your pre-gala activities.”
“And leave you alone with a possible haunted artifact? Please. I’d rather risk the curse.” Enid scoffed.
The corner of Wednesday’s mouth twitched in amusement. “Tell me, who was the last to handle the artifact?”
“I…handled it this morning…” Enid’s throat felt dry. She looked at Wednesday’s face, worried sketched all over her own, “Am I…cursed or something?” She said in a panic.
Wednesday turned her eyes back to the figurine, eyes dark and steady. “We shall see…” She said casually, “Just make yourself comfortable. This may take a while.”
Enid sighed, closing her eyes in defeat, “I have a gala to attend! I can’t stay here studying a possibly cursed object and worse! What if I’m cursed because of it?” She was pacing around the room, her heels clacking loudly against the marble tiles.
Wednesday looked up at her again, “Your constant pacing is not going to accelerate this investigation, nor is it helping in any way, Miss Sinclair.”
Enid stopped dead in her tracks, “You’re right…what can I do?” She asked, taking in a deep breath to calm her nerves.
“You can start by documenting what I discover,” Wednesday instructed, her tone less sharp this time.
Enid grabbed a stool and sat next to Wednesday; her tablet was in hand, ready to take notes when Wednesday turned to her abruptly, “Tell me, what did you feel when you touched the artifact the first time, and why were you not wearing gloves?”
Enid scoffed, “I was wearing gloves and um…well. I don’t think anything out of the ordinary, but I did feel it get warm to touch…I didn’t think much of it, but now that you mention it…” She looked at her hands, “My arms and hands feel tingly.”
“Interesting…” Wednesday muttered, “May I?” She pulled off her gloves and reached out her hands to inspect Enid’s. Enid blinked, extending hers to her. Wednesday’s hands were cold yet strangely soft. She rubbed the back of Enid’s hands, making her shiver. “Miss Sinclair?” Wednesday questioned with a lifted eyebrow.
“Sorry…it’s just…the cold.” Enid stuttered. Why was she suddenly so nervous? She thought.
Wednesday reached for her UV light and shone it over Enid’s hands and arms. Her eyes widened slightly as she saw the same trace of residue from the figurine on her. “Well, Miss Sinclair.”
Enid chuckled nervously as Wednesday let her hands go, “Enid, please.” She whispered, her ears suddenly feeling warm.
“Enid…” Wednesday replied, “It seems you and the figurine now share the same residual glow, but my studies are still inconclusive as to what that means.”
Enid couldn’t believe it. Out of all the objects she had touched in the past, this one had to be cursed. “I’m fucked aren’t i?”
A light smirk adorned Wednesday’s lips, “We shall see.” And to Enid’s surprise, she turned back to the artifact, lifting it up directly without gloves. “At least, your suffering will not occur in isolation.”
Enid’s jaw dropped, “Are you insane?!” She reached for the figurine, trying to take it from Wednesday’s hands, “We don’t know what that thing could do?!”
Wednesday pulled away, setting the figurine back in its case, “Enid, this is not the first time something has cursed or possessed me, so do not fret.”
Just as she said that, thunder struck, hard, causing the lights to flicker once more, yet this time everything else around them did too. The storm had reached the museum in full; rain was hammering against the glass dome above the mezzanine. A second flash of lightning lit the gallery white for a heartbeat; then everything went dark. A low rumble shuddered through the ventilation system. The alarm tried to start, stuttered, and died completely.
Enid swore under her breath. “Fantastic.”
They were now in total darkness; their only source of light was the faint glow from the emergency strips along the floor.
Wednesday straightened, calm as if nothing were wrong. “Power surge. The museum’s backup generator is below this wing, correct?”
“Yes, but the security doors lock automatically when the system resets,” Enid replied, holding her face in her hands.
Wednesday was about to reach the door when, as if on cue, the metallic thunk of bolts sliding into place rang through the room. The two women stared at the sealed exit with a sigh.
Enid exhaled slowly. “Well, we’re not going anywhere until security comes in.”
Wednesday looked back to the figurine, its surface still faintly lit by its own strange pulse. “Then we may as well make productive use of the time and figure out why we are now both pulsing in beat with the artifact.”
She returned to her stool, checking readings, unbothered by the dark. Enid folded her arms, “You act like getting locked in the Met overnight is perfectly normal.”
“It is preferable to a formal gala,” Wednesday replied. “Fewer false smiles. Less small talk.”
The corner of Enid’s mouth twitched before she caught herself. She turned away, heels clicking across the floor toward her office. “If we’re trapped in here and possibly cursed, I’m at least getting something to drink.”
Wednesday’s eyes followed her, looking at her with curiosity. “What an unusually contradictory woman...” She muttered, secretly amused.
Enid returned moments later with two glasses and a single unopened bottle of champagne; it was a gift from a donor she had met with the day prior. She was meaning to take it home with her to open after the event she was most likely going to miss.
She set out the two glasses on the desk between her and Wednesday. “Do you make it a habit of keeping champagne in your office?”
“For emergencies,” Enid said, popping the cork. “Being locked in with a stranger who insults my documentation qualifies as such.”
Wednesday took the offered glass without comment. The liquid caught the glow of the figurine, making it shine a pale gold. She hesitated but took the glass from Enid.
Darkness was now becoming a problem as afternoon bled into evening. Wednesday could no longer inspect the artifact properly, and Enid’s tablet’s battery had died.
Enid leaned against the desk, studying her companion. “You really rode a motorcycle in this weather?”
“Traffic is less irritating when most drivers are afraid of thunder, like cats,” Wednesday replied, taking another drink.
The answer made Enid laugh before she could stop herself. She took a sip, trying to regain composure, the bubbles feeling sharp against her tongue.
Wednesday smirked, turning away slightly.
“You’re smiling,” Enid observed.
“Is that a problem?” Wednesday replied defensively.
“It’s unusual,” Enid answered honestly.
Another flash of lightning lit the space, followed by a rumble that seemed to roll through the floor, illuminating the room briefly but leaving them in darkness once more.
The marble figurine glimmered faintly in rhythm to their own glow, as if reacting as one.
Enid looked toward it, uneasy. “That thing gives me the creeps.”
Wednesday’s gaze lingered on her instead. “Objects like this only react and amplify what is already present...”
Enid turned back to her, heartbeat quickening. “And what exactly do you think is present?”
Wednesday’s expression did not change, but the air between them thickened, followed by a silence that was impossible to ignore.
Outside, thunder rolled again, making Enid jump, “Shit!” She yelped as she almost spilled her drink on herself. “Ugh, I hate thunder…it’s so…unpredictable.” She shook her head and downed her drink.
Wednesday stared at her unblinkingly, watching, like a hawk stalking prey.
“What?” Enid snapped, feeling uneased under her piercing gaze. She almost flinched when Wednesday reached for her hand, inspecting it once more.
“Do you see this?” Wednesday questioned.
“See…see what?” Enid whispered, blinking rapidly as she got a whiff of the Doctor’s perfume.
Wednesday quickly reached for her UV light and pointed it at their connected hands, “This.”
Enid’s eyes went wide, “What the…” She looked up at Wednesday with a puzzled look, “What did you do?!” She pulled her hand away, backing up slowly.
Wednesday frowned, “I did nothing. Had you not touched the artifact first, I would not have had to sacrifice myself in the name of science.” She deadpanned, sitting straighter on her stool.
Enid scoffed, “There you go again, blaming me for this…this…stupid curse or whatever it is!” Her heels clanked angrily against the floor. “I’ve had enough! Fuck it! If I’m going to die, I’ll at least do it doing what I like the most.” She reached for her phone, silently praying the cellphone signal still worked.
Wednesday’s eyebrow raised; there wasn’t much she could do under these lackluster conditions. She was all about facts, and based on the artifact's behavior, this had only one possible outcome… One she did not like…
“There, I actually did something useful, unlike you.” Enid announced proudly, “Security will be here to get these doors opened any minute now.” She walked across the room and sat on the worn leather loveseat, crossing her legs and sighing in relief.
Temperature was becoming a problem. Wednesday usually ran colder than most people, yet a burning heat now crawled from her hands up her arms and into her chest. The artifact’s light thrummed stronger, syncing with her own heartbeat and judging by Enid’s flushed cheeks, with hers as well.
“It is too warm in here,” Wednesday said, voice low.
Enid’s eyes widened. “You feel it too? Oh god, it’s spreading. What if it’s poisoning us? What if…”
“Enid.” Wednesday’s tone sharpened just enough to cut through the rising panic. She stepped closer, close enough that the faint scent of Enid’s perfume mixed with the ozone of the storm. “It is the artifact. It does not poison. It amplifies. Whatever is already present…panic, irritation, curiosity…attraction…it drags it to the surface and turns up the volume.”
Their eyes locked. The dim emergency lighting painted soft shadows across Enid’s face, highlighting the rapid rise and fall of her chest. Wednesday’s gaze dropped for half a second to Enid’s parted lips before flicking back up. Neither moved...
Enid swallowed. “So what you’re saying is…”
A metallic clunk echoed through the wing. The security doors hissed open. Overhead lights flickered back to life, harsh and fluorescent. Both women instinctively stepped apart as a guard’s voice called out. “Miss Sinclair? You alright in there?”
Enid cleared her throat, smoothing her dress. “Yes! We’re…We’re fine.”
Wednesday was already moving, calm as ever. “If you will excuse me, I need to use the restroom.” She disappeared towards the staff bathroom before Enid could protest.
Enid hovered near the figurine, torn. She didn’t want to leave it alone with the strange pulsing thing, but her boss strode in moments later, two security staff in tow.
“Enid! There you are. The generator’s back online. We’re moving the piece upstairs for the gala display as planned. You’ve done more than enough. Go, enjoy the evening. That’s an order.”
Enid cast one last glance toward the restroom, then nodded reluctantly. “Yes, sir.”
The gala was in full swing upstairs: crystal chandeliers, string quartet, champagne towers, and New York’s wealthiest milling about in gowns and tuxedos. Enid had freshened up, but the faint tingle in her hands refused to fade. Every so often she caught herself scanning the room for black leather, until she saw her.
Wednesday stood near a cluster of investors, still in her black leather jacket and jeans, looking completely out of place and utterly unbothered. She was speaking, actually speaking, with people Enid only knew by last name and donation history. Her braid rested over one shoulder, and the faintest hint of a smirk played on her lips as she delivered some dry remark that made the circle laugh.
Enid’s frowned. “How was the Doctor so well-known and even social? I have been with the woman mere moments ago, and she was nothing like this…” She pondered quizzically.
Enid was pulled from her thoughts when her boss stepped onto the small stage. “I would like to give a special thank you to our highest donor this year, whose generous contributions make evenings like this possible, Dr. Wednesday Addams.”
Polite applause rippled through the room. Wednesday gave a single, elegant nod, then turned her head and tilted it slightly toward Enid across the crowd, sending her a private salute with the slightest tilt of her glass.
Enid’s mouth went dry. “Highest donor?”
The figurine, now on prominent display under glass on the upper mezzanine, pulsed once, sharp and warm, in perfect unison with the heat blooming under Enid’s skin.
As the party properly began and the crowd thickened, Wednesday slipped away from her admirers.
Enid watched her disappear toward the conservation wing again. A few minutes and two glasses of champagne later, Enid followed, the alcohol loosening the nervous flutter in her chest into something bolder…
She found Wednesday alone in the low-lit balcony, leaning over it with a cigarette in hand.
“Is the party not up to your standards, Doctor?” Enid asked, voice lighter than she felt. She leaned against the balcony rail beside her, close enough that their arms nearly brushed.
Wednesday straightened, one brow arched. “I do not enjoy parties. Or trust artifacts that refuse to behave.”
Enid smiled, tipsy and flirty. “And yet here you are. In a dress code you clearly ignored, charming half the board, and still focused on that cursed statue. You’re full of surprises, Dr. Addams.”
Wednesday’s gaze lingered on Enid’s mouth, then slowly traveled down the pink dress. “And you, Miss Sinclair, are far more dangerous in heels than I anticipated.”
Enid’s laugh came out breathy. “Dangerous? Me?”
“Exceedingly.” Wednesday stepped closer, voice dropping. “Especially when you look at me like that.”
Inside, the pulse from the figurine flared again, hot and insistent. Enid felt it like a hand sliding down her spine and without thinking she reached out, grabbed Wednesday’s arm, and tugged her toward the staff restroom just off the gallery.
The door to the stall clicked shut behind them. Black Chucks and strappy nude platform heels lined up side-by-side beneath the partition.
Wednesday’s usual icy composure finally cracked the moment Enid pushed her back against the stall wall. The kiss was hungry, hours of restrained tension exploding all at once.
Enid’s fingers stayed tangled in that long braid, using it like a leash to tilt Wednesday’s head exactly where she wanted.
“Fuck, you’ve been driving me crazy all night,” Enid breathed against her mouth.
Wednesday’s hands gripped Enid’s hips, but there was no fight in it, only sharp, needy surrender. “Then stop talking and do something about it.”
Enid didn’t need to be told twice. She spun Wednesday around, pressing her front against the cool marble wall of the stall. One hand slid down the front of Wednesday’s tight black jeans while the other kept that braid wrapped around her fist.
Wednesday’s breath hitched, sharp, almost startled, when Enid’s fingers found heat and slickness already waiting.
“So wet already,” Enid murmured, lips brushing the shell of Wednesday’s ear. “All that cold, superior attitude and you’re dripping for me.”
Wednesday’s forehead dropped against the tile, a low, broken sound escaping her. “Miss. Sinclair…”
Enid pressed two fingers inside her without warning, curling them just right. Wednesday’s hips jerked back instinctively, chasing the rhythm. The artifact’s pulse thrummed through both of them, amplifying every sensation until it felt like lightning under their skin.
Enid fucked her, hard and steady, heel of her hand grinding against Wednesday’s clit with every thrust. The bathroom stall echoed with the wet sounds and Wednesday’s increasingly unrestrained gasps.
“You’re going to come for me right here,” Enid whispered, biting down gently on the side of Wednesday’s neck. “While everyone’s out there sipping champagne and clapping for their generous donor.”
Wednesday’s thighs trembled. Her usual cutting wit had dissolved into desperate little moans and broken versions of Enid’s name. When she came, it was with her whole body, back arching, braid pulled tight in Enid’s grip, a choked cry muffled against her own arm.
It was as if they had done this before. Enid knew where to touch and what to do to make Wednesday squirm, and she didn’t stop until Wednesday was shaking, overstimulated and panting. Only then did Enid ease her fingers out, turning Wednesday around to kiss her slow and deep, tasting victory on her tongue.
Wednesday’s dark eyes were glassy, cheeks flushed, braid messy. “Enid Sinclair,” she rasped, voice wrecked, “You are going to be the death of me.”
“Good. I feel that’s really on brand for you.” Enid smirked, licking the last traces of Wednesday from her fingers clean without breaking eye contact as she hummed teasingly at the taste. “Come here,” Enid murmured, voice husky with command. She grabbed the front of Wednesday’s leather jacket and yanked her forward into a filthy, claiming kiss.
Wednesday moaned straight into Enid’s mouth the moment she tasted herself on the blonde’s tongue, sharp, sweet, utterly obscene. The sound was low and broken, vibrating through their joined lips. Her hands fisted in the soft pink fabric of Enid’s dress as if she needed something to anchor her.
When they parted for air, Wednesday’s voice came out dazed, almost dreamlike. “I wonder…if you taste as good as you look.”
Enid’s smirk turned wicked. “Let’s find out.”
She pushed Wednesday down to her knees right there on the tiled floor of the stall. The move was firm and dominating. Wednesday went willingly, dark eyes flicking up with something between reverence and challenge. Enid gathered the hem of her pale pink dress and hiked it up around her waist, revealing lacy panties already soaked through.
“Take them off,” Enid ordered softly.
Wednesday’s fingers hooked into the waistband and dragged the lace down Enid’s legs, revealing her slick core. She leaned in immediately, pressing her mouth to the inside of one thigh, then the other, before burying her face between Enid’s legs with raw hunger.
The first long, slow lick drew a sharp gasp from Enid. Wednesday wasn’t going to tease; they were beyond that. She dove right in, wanting to devour Enid until her throat went raw from screaming her name... Her tongue worked intensely, exploring every fold, circling Enid’s clit, sucking, then dipping inside her like she was starving. Soft, needy sounds escaped Wednesday’s throat, completely lost in the taste of her.
“Fuck…yes, just like that,” Enid groaned, one hand bracing against the stall door while the other tangled back into Wednesday’s hair, guiding her rhythm.
Wednesday’s eyes had slipped shut, lashes dark against her flushed cheeks as she lost herself in pleasuring Enid.
Enid dug her nails sharply into Wednesday’s scalp. “Open your eyes,” she demanded, voice rough with pleasure. “Look at me while you make me come.”
Wednesday obeyed instantly. Those dark, stormy eyes lifted and held Enid’s gaze as her tongue flicked faster over her clit. The eye contact was intimate, vulnerable, and submissive. Enid’s hips rocked forward, riding Wednesday’s mouth with growing urgency.
The artifact’s pulse surged between them, hotter and faster, feeding on every moan and desperate lick.
“That’s it…don’t stop! Fuck, Wednesday…” Enid’s thighs began to tremble. Her head fell back against the door as the orgasm crashed through her, loud and unrestrained. She cried out sharply, the sound echoing off the marble tiles, hips jerking against Wednesday’s eager mouth as she came hard.
The figurine’s magic flared violently in response, still invisible to everyone in the room.
A wave of heat slammed through both of them, stronger than before, amplifying every lingering sensation until their skin felt hypersensitive and their pulses thundered in perfect sync. The air in the stall felt thicker, heavier, charged with raw, insatiable need.
Enid slumped against the door, breathing hard, still holding Wednesday’s head. Wednesday stayed on her knees, lips shiny, eyes dark with the same relentless hunger now burning in Enid’s veins.
Yet, neither of them felt satisfied… If anything, the artifact had only made them want more…
Enid looked down at the debauched, beautiful woman still kneeling for her and smiled. “Get up,” she ordered, pulling Wednesday to her feet and into another deep kiss, tasting herself on those swollen lips. “I can’t get enough of you, Doctor...” The artifact’s amplified heat still coursed through them, making every brush of skin feel electric. “Take me home,” Enid whispered against her lips, voice husky with desire. “Now. I can’t wait another second.”
Enid’s words went straight to Wednesday’s core. “My apartment is nearby...”
They barely made it out of the museum without drawing too many stares. Wednesday’s braid was still a mess, Enid’s dress was slightly rumpled. The motorcycle ride through the rain-slicked streets was torture: Enid’s arms wrapped tight around Wednesday’s waist, thighs pressed against her, the constant vibration of the engine feeding the pulsing need between them.
Wednesday’s apartment was exactly what Enid expected: dark wood, gothic style, shelves of obscure artifacts and books, low lighting that made the room feel intimate again. They barely made it past the entryway, and Enid shoved Wednesday against the door the moment it closed, dropping to her knees this time and yanking those tight black jeans down. “No teasing,” Enid growled, spreading Wednesday’s thighs apart. “I want you on my tongue right now.” Wednesday’s breath hitched sharply as Enid buried her face between her legs without warning. Her tongue dragged through slick, swollen folds in one long, hungry stroke, then latched onto her clit with relentless suction. Wednesday’s head slammed back against the door with a choked moan, one hand flying down to grip Enid’s hair.
“Fuck…Enid…” Wednesday’s voice cracked.
Enid didn’t stop. She licked and sucked with so much want… A finger plunged deep inside Wednesday’s dripping cunt, curling hard against her front wall. The wet, obscene sounds of her tongue and finger filled the apartment as Wednesday’s hips bucked helplessly against her face. Enid fucked her harder, faster, adding a second finger and scissoring them while her tongue flicked mercilessly over Wednesday’s swollen clit.
Wednesday came with a sharp, broken cry, thighs clamping around Enid’s head, walls pulsing and gushing around her fingers. Enid kept licking her through every aftershock until Wednesday was shaking and whimpering.
Enid pulled back slowly, lips and chin covered in slick. She looked up, blue eyes blown. “Bedroom. Now.”
Enid stripped Wednesday completely, pushing her down onto the dark sheets of the large gothic-style bed. She pulled down her panties, slid her dress off, and climbed on top, straddling Wednesday’s face. “Hands above your head,” Enid ordered, grabbing Wednesday’s wrists and pinning them to the mattress. “You don’t get to touch until I say so.”
Wednesday’s dark eyes were blown with lust as Enid lowered herself onto her waiting mouth. The first broad stroke of Wednesday’s tongue made Enid moan loudly, rolling her hips forward to ride her face with rough, grinding movements.
“That’s it…eat my pussy like that…” Enid breathed, grinding down harder. Wednesday obeyed instantly, tongue fucking deep inside her before pulling back to suck greedily on her clit. The wet, slurping sounds were loud and shameless. Enid’s head fell back, one hand braced on the headboard while the other kept Wednesday’s wrists pinned.
Wednesday moaned into her cunt, the vibrations shooting straight through Enid. She licked and sucked almost without oxygen, eyes locked upward whenever Enid allowed her a breath. If she was going to die, this was going to be the way, completely lost in the taste of her.
Enid’s rhythm grew faster, more demanding. “Fuck…your mouth feels so good, Doctor. You’re such a pleasing little sub for me, aren’t you?”
Wednesday whimpered in response, tongue working even harder. Enid rode her face with abandon, thighs trembling on either side of Wednesday’s head. When she came, it was loud and violent, hips jerking, a sharp cry tearing from her throat as she flooded Wednesday’s mouth and chin, and Wednesday had never been more grateful for her soundproof walls…
The artifact’s magic, although now far from them, surged again, and the faint glow under their skin flared brighter for several long seconds, flooding them both with another overwhelming wave of raw need.
Enid barely gave either of them time to recover. She slid down Wednesday’s body, captured her mouth in a messy, tasting kiss, then flipped them so she was behind Wednesday. She pulled the other woman’s hips up, pressing her chest down into the mattress, sliding three fingers easily into her from behind while rubbing her clit in tight circles with her thumb. Wednesday bit down on her pillow as Enid plunged in and out, fucking her intensely… It wasn’t long before she came hard again, face buried in the pillow to muffle her wrecked moans, body shaking violently.
They kept going until the early hours of the next day, switching between Enid’s fingers, tongue, and commanding Wednesday to ride her thigh until both of them were exhausted, covered in sweat and each other, the sheets ruined…
Morning After
Sunlight filtered weakly through heavy black curtains. Enid woke first, warm and pleasantly sore, tangled in cool sheets and even cooler limbs. Wednesday was wrapped around her like a possessive vine, one arm draped over Enid’s waist, face buried against her neck, dark hair spilling across the pillow in wild disarray. Their legs were intertwined, skin still faintly glowing with the same soft, light the figurine had given off.
Enid traced a lazy finger along the faint luminous veins visible under Wednesday’s forearm. The glow pulsed gently in response, syncing with her own.
“Morning, Dr. Addams,” She murmured, voice soft and teasing. “Still think I’m dangerous in heels?”
Wednesday stirred, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss to Enid’s throat before answering. “Exceedingly. Though I find the lack of clothing even more hazardous to my sanity.” Her voice was rough from the night before, low and intimate. She lifted her head, dark eyes softer than Enid had ever seen them. “You stayed.”
“You think I could leave after that?” Enid laughed quietly, brushing a strand of hair from Wednesday’s face. “Besides…I think this thing,” she lifted their joined hands, watching the faint glow shimmer between them, “has other plans for us...”
Wednesday went silent for a moment, fingers squeezing Enid’s. The gesture felt strangely tender for someone so reserved.
“I knew…” She said finally, almost reluctant. “When I first examined the figurine under UV. The inscriptions on the base…they are not just decorative. It was commissioned in the 16th century as a binding piece…for soulmates…” Enid blinked at her in disbelief but squeezed her hand to continue. “It only activates when two people who are…compatible come into contact with it… The pulse, the amplification, it does not create desire. It reveals what was already fated.”
Enid’s eyes widened, then softened with a playful smile. “So you knew we were going to end up like this and still acted all cool and superior?”
Wednesday’s lips twitched; the ghost of a smirk adorned them. “I suspected. I did not expect you to be quite so…enthusiastically dominant. Nor did I anticipate enjoying it this much.” She leaned in, kissing Enid slow and sweet, a stark contrast to the raw passion of the night before. “It appears the artifact was correct. We were inevitable.”
Enid melted into the kiss, then pulled back just enough to grin. “Good. Because I’m keeping you, Wednesday Addams. Curses, motorcycle, gloomy apartments, and all.”
Wednesday’s arms tightened around her, the faint glow between their skin pulsing warmer, content. “Regrettably,” she murmured against Enid’s lips, “I find I have no objections.”
Enid smiled into the kiss. “Who knew an annoyingly bad day would’ve turned out with me finding my soulmate?” She thought, but as Wednesday said, they were fated to be together, and she wouldn’t have it any other way…