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There was this feeling that, lately, would plague Enid to the point of exasperation.
It sat in her stomach like a coil winding tighter and tighter, ready to be released and pounce – or like an increasing amount of rubber bands wrapping around a watermelon until it was ready to burst into an explosion of red melon-y guts (an imagery that she was sure Wednesday would appreciate) like in those funny TikToks that were all the hype a few years ago.
It made her nervous, restless, and fidgety. Like she didn't know what to do with her hands that just… Just wanted to squeeze. So she kept them tightly clenched to her sides, hoping that one day she could unleash their fury on her object of desire.
It made her feel unruly, untamed, and feral. Like she couldn't hold herself back if she wanted to when her wolfish fangs elongated in her hungry mouth, nicking the tender skin on her lip, pinpricks of blood pooling out of the unwanted wounds and running down her chin as if she had gulped a glass of cranberry juice in thirsted desperation and spilled half of it not into her mouth but beside it.
Today, that feeling plagued her again with a new found force.
She quickly wiped the trickling trail of blood off of her chin with the back of her hand, only briefly stopping to consider letting Wednesday see it after all, but the embarrassment that this erratic state brought with it was something she didn't want to show so openly just yet. Wednesday was many things, and one of them was unpredictable. What she would do if she saw blood gushing out of Enid's mouth was a question that left Enid both excited and nervous.
Most importantly, she didn't think herself capable of reining back whatever primal urge was currently waging a war inside her and was worried about the implications of this war wanting to spread and conquer Wednesday as well. She knew Wednesday would be able to hold her own, but she also knew she would unwillingly put her girlfriend's life in danger if she let this burning and aching desire in her stomach take over her senses, attacking Wednesday like the feral beast whose inherited role she was forced to take on every once in a while.
Oh, Wednesday. Truly, the root of all her problems and untameable feelings.
It was hardly Wednesday's fault that Enid was feeling this way. She couldn't help it – unfortunately – that she was just so… unbearably cute sometimes.
If anything, Wednesday always tried her hardest to be anything but.
Enid was sure that if she told anyone else that she categorized any of Wednesday's antics as cute, they would just tell her to go to therapy and let herself get checked for a severe case of Stockholm syndrome. Maybe even Wednesday herself wouldn't shy away from such a suggestion, she mused.
But Enid wasn't suffering from Stockholm syndrome. Or at least she had convinced herself that she wasn't. She had just learned to accept Wednesday the way she was – weird, morbid, and occasionally disgusting hobbies included.
While two years ago she would have gagged at the sight of skinned animals laid aside on Wednesday's desk as she worked on her next taxidermy project, she now found Wednesday's appreciation for turning something dead and lifeless into something lively and fun again kind of endearing.
It was almost with a childlike wonder that you'd see on 'normal' kids while they played around with their dolls that Wednesday approached her hobby. The way she visibly pondered, even voicing her thoughts to Enid sometimes, over whether to use her next project as a way to display one of her favorite torture methods with the animals or simply assemble a monstrous creature with way too many limbs or heads reminded Enid of the way she would sometimes play with her dolls and make them do weird shit too.
She had totally torn their limbs out at her brothers' suggestion when she was younger – not that she really wanted to at first, but it was either comply and do that or watch them dunk her favorite plushie into the toilet bowl head first – and then reassembled the dolls with limbs from other toys around the house that didn't even fully fit. How was that so different to what Wednesday was doing?
Another thing Enid found incredibly endearing were the times when Wednesday would get absolutely engrossed in her own world while writing. Sure, her laser-focused stare could probably burn holes through the back of somebody's skull, and the passion and vigor with which she approached this hobby could make her look maniacal while she feverishly typed away on her next manuscript, but Enid had also very carefully studied the micro-expressions Wednesday would use at different points in her writing.
Her girlfriend had this subconscious habit of pursing her lips when she was concentrating and sometimes sucked in her lower lip almost imperceptibly when she was trying to find the right word for something. When she would hit a lull or bump in her writing, she would lift both her hands off the keys of her typewriter and wait for her next genial thought to strike before plunging back in.
When she finished a chapter, she would wear the closest thing to something that you could maybe describe as a proud smile. Though Enid had learned that Wednesday's smile just… didn't look quite right to the average person to begin with, so perhaps she was actually genuinely smiling in those cases, now that she thought about it.
Either way, what bliss to be able to witness when Wednesday expressed emotions. Something that Enid, with the elevated social standing of being this weirdo's girlfriend, had been granted exclusive front row seats to, much to Wednesday chagrin sometimes. Enid enjoyed every last second of it.
This evening, Enid was attentively watching and listening to her girlfriend from her corner of the room, hands balled into tight fists around her pink sweater because she so desperately needed to just squeeze something as she was getting lost in thought about all the endearing things about Wednesday, while her roommate meditatively typed away on her loud-ass and ancient typewriter during her allotted writing time.
Click-clack-click-clack-click-clack-ding!-grrrshh-clack-click-clack-click…
Her back was sat almost impossibly straight against her chair, as if nailed to a wooden cross that disallowed her to hunch over. The girl's shoulders drooped at a perfect angle and her head only minimally moved from left to right along with the words appearing on the page in front of her (another thing Enid found incredibly cute and that she was sure Wednesday hadn't even noticed herself doing. It was her little secret.)
And even though she sat with perfect posture, and her imposing and self-assured nature could easily fill and suck the air out of an entire room, Enid saw Wednesday for the other thing that she was as well: So… so… tiny . Enid's heart clenched.
Sometimes Enid joked to herself that Wednesday got very lucky for the extra couple of inches she had been granted that at least allowed her feet to touch the ground when she was sitting at her desk. She wondered if Wednesday would be able to touch the ground if her first choice of shoes didn't turn out to be advantageous platform boots or sneakers. A fashion choice that was in itself an involuntary statement about Wednesday's inability to accept her own compromised height, which, if you really thought about it… how was that not just freaking adorable?
Enid was swooning again, the hands on her sweater tightening almost painfully.
She craned her neck to catch a glimpse of Wednesday's side profile and immediately got lost in the swift work of her delicate and skillful fingers hammering in the words of her newest novel, like bullets shooting into a target, each click a new bullet that connected with the paper, each thought ammunition and each stroke of the key a shot which released those thoughts into the world.
Enid gulped audibly when she got lost in the trance-like motion of Wednesday's fingers carefully choosing the letters with which she brought words to life and endowed them with meaning.
Another trickle of blood ran down her chin when she bit through the skin on the inside of her cheek this time. If only she could bite and nibble at Wednesday's fingers instead…
Almost imperceptible to a normal human eye was the tiny speck of dust that Enid suddenly caught sight of in the next moment as it was illuminated by Wednesday's desk lamp, and slowly, oh so slowly, drifted through the air before settling on top of the unaware author's nose.
Wednesday scrunched her nose momentarily, trying to rid herself of the bothersome feeling the speck of dust was causing her.
The coil – or watermelon – in Enid's stomach wound tighter.
When the scrunching didn't help, Wednesday interrupted her writing flow to tilt her head into the back of her hand to rub at her nose instead.
Enid couldn't help but compare the gesture to the adorable image of a cat cleaning its face.
And that was what tipped her over the edge she had been teetering on for the past forty-five minutes or so. The coil in her stomach groaned pitifully under the unreleased pressure. She had to do something. Right now.
With hasty steps and trembling legs, Enid crossed over the invisible line of their room in an instant. She stopped right behind Wednesday's chair and straight back, peering over her shoulder, but not at the words on the page as some other innocently curious person might have.
She looked at Wednesday's hands. At meticulously manicured nails as dark as an impossibly moonless night. That thought irked Enid a little, but it was exhaled from her mind with the next breath when her eyes trailed from Wednesday's finger to the pale backs of her hands, icy blue rivers bulging against the ashen skin with the exhaustion of uninterrupted typing for a prolonged time.
The hands stilled but for a moment, acknowledging Enid's intrusion but resuming their mission otherwise undisturbed when Wednesday decided not to bother investigating Enid's odd behavior at this moment, too entranced and in the zone with bringing to life the world of her own creation.
Enid's eyes started roaming again. From hands to loosely clothed arms, to a white collar, to perfectly braided hair and a beautiful, animalistic oval mark peeking out behind it on an otherwise impeccable neck. Her fangs ached.
Enid perceived Wednesday's speeding heart rate at that moment. She wished she could say it was because Wednesday was excited about her close proximity and the way she had undoubtedly picked up on the wandering eyes on her.
But a louder part in Enid's mind told her that her girlfriend must be getting increasingly more annoyed and bothered with her interruption so close yet so far from the end of her writing time. Surely, Wednesday was questioning what kind of devil was driving Enid to commit such an offense to one of their clearest boundaries and if she would have to perform an(other) exorcism later on.
But Enid held her ground. And now unabashedly reached out a hand, the inside of which was adorned with a collection of clearly visible half-moons, to brush the currently offending braid out of the way and over her girlfriend's slender shoulder.
This caused Wednesday to still, a flash of murder glinting across her eyes.
She lifted her chin upwards and looked at Enid through barely furrowed eyebrows.
Since Enid was already standing so close, she almost had to go cross-eyed, which took away the air of cold-blooded murder that would not even stop at her most beloved, and replaced it with one of utterly adorable planned homicide, like a child planning the beheading of her latest Armand Marseille doll.
Enid whimpered pathetically now, which only brought upon her next death sentence: Wednesday now fully tilting her head in confusion.
The werewolf bared her teeth and clenched her fists as the watermelon cracked.
Wednesday huffed through her nose at the peculiar behavior, intrigued rather than just annoyed at this point.
"So be it, I will bite: What is ailing you, mon chiot? "
Wednesday rotated her chair so that she was now halfway to facing Enid and halfway facing away from her typewriter. As she asked the question, she reached out her own hand and let it hover next to Enid's cheek, almost cupping it in the palm of her hand, with her thumb dangerously and challengingly close to the werewolf's bared teeth in curious wonder.
With Wednesday's teasing thumb so awfully close to her aching fangs now, Enid felt something in her snap.
The coil jumped.
The watermelon finally burst.
There was going to be blood and war, and she didn't care.
" Bite –" Enid growled, and tightly grasped Wednesday's slim wrist in her hand before it could escape when it would finally dawn on Wednesday what kind of situation she had just put herself in, "– is exactly the right word."
Wednesday furrowed her eyebrows more perceptibly this time when her wrist was trapped against her will. The urgency of the grasp was enough to let her know she would not regain control over her wrist as long as Enid didn't want her to. It both annoyed and enticed her.
What Enid did next, though, sent shivers down her spine.
Her wrist was pulled closer to Enid's mouth and Wednesday was expecting Enid to perhaps peck her knuckles one by one as she would sometimes do when she was feeling especially enamored with her, which was what Wednesday had concluded was currently happening.
But pecking her knuckles she did not.
Enid closed her eyes and started with her thumb. A bite, gentle, but obviously restrained.
Wednesday shivered visibly when Enid's fang immediately drew blood from her thumb.
Maybe not so restrained, then.
A quick instinctual lick to soothe the wound, then Enid moved on to her next finger. She hesitated, then bit down again.
This time, Wednesday could feel an uncomfortable pressure as the fang dug deeper into the pad of her finger than before. This time, Enid didn't lick the blood away, either.
As she moved onto the next finger, Wednesday's eyes rounded in anticipation of the pain.
She noticed that Enid's jaw was beginning to tremble as she bared her teeth in a snarl. As if it was painful for her to hold back.
That wouldn't do.
As Enid set out to bite Wednesday's middle finger, the werewolf snapped her eyes open in surprise when she suddenly felt an increasing amount of pressure against her fang as the finger was being purposefully pressed against her deadly equipment. Enid's eyes searched for Wednesday's face and the facial expression that she was met with almost made her whimper again.
Wednesday was wearing a look of very deep concentration and determination on her face. An expression that portrayed the weird fascination and thrill she was feeling at whatever it was Enid was doing to her. And since Enid didn't have untrained eyes, but a pair that had become almost unnaturally attuned to the micro-expressions with which Wednesday emoted her barely surfacing emotions, she was able to spot the tiny hint of a wicked smile on her girlfriend's lips, too.
Of course Wednesday would find some weird kind of enjoyment in this, as long as there was some form of pain involved.
Well, all the better for Enid, because now she was definitely not going to stop.
With another low growl, Enid temporarily removed Wednesday's hand from her mouth so she could speak and hopefully explain what was going on.
"I can't help myself, Wednesday. You're just so– I have to– I just need to bite you."
Well, she tried.
Hardly able to breathe out her sentence, she pulled the wrist closer again in an almost unrestrained fury, eyebrows knit together as if angered, and aggressively nipped at Wednesday's ring finger next.
Wednesday bit down on her lip as the pain continued to get worse with the next bite, only briefly wondering why her girlfriend looked angered when her ministrations were clearly passionate in nature. The thought was quickly brushed aside as this time she was almost concerned with the crunching sensation she felt when Enid's teeth closed around her finger, but she couldn't find it in herself to remove it either.
A dark, morbid curiosity wanted to see how far Enid was willing to take this. And another, less dark curiosity really wanted to know what had brought on this almost unrestrained aggression in her girlfriend.
She couldn't say that she minded very much, if it wasn't for the fact that it had interrupted her writing time with less than fifteen minutes left before its conclusion.
But, the pleasure she found in her girlfriend willfully inflicting pain on her was something that would let her glance over the breach of this boundary just this once for today.
While Enid now took her pinky in her mouth, a numbing sensation was setting in where the werewolf had so harshly bit down on her middle and ring finger.
When Wednesday inspected her fingers more closely, she followed the three trails of blood meandering down from the punctures in her fingers with unbridled fascination.
Enid had never done something like this before. At the very least not unprompted.
Wednesday wondered if this was going to be a one time thing, a display of weakness and a lack of discipline in an otherwise clearly defined relationship with clear boundaries and permissions that had to be asked before the initiation of certain touches.
In a way, this seemed like some sort of violation; an urge not kept under control, but at the same time, the gesture of only biting at her fingers carried a certain innocence with it that Wednesday interpreted as the holding back of an urge way more primal than what Enid was even letting on. And that, she could appreciate.
Not that she minded the violation very much to begin with – as much as she despised surprises, they were way more tolerable when they involved some sort of physical pain. But there was something else, too, that she was beginning to decipher as Enid violently chewed on her pinky finger like a teething puppy on a chew toy: In a surprising turn of events, she appeared to like it that Enid was showing a form of rebellion and dominance over her.
She didn't fully know yet if this was going to be something to be permanently acknowledged and accepted, on both sides, or if she would only allow Enid this dominance over her just for today. Either way, for now, Wednesday was going to sit back and enjoy the show.
When Enid was satisfied with her work on Wednesday's pinky and released it, Wednesday's hand felt grossly sticky and cold with wetness – both from Enid's saliva and the blood that had mingled with it. There was an urge to wipe her hand and she briefly considered doing so on Enid's sweater as punishment for the interruption, but she didn't even get the chance to when darkened, lustful eyes met her own curious eyes and a raised eyebrow.
"Dammit, Wednesday," Enid cursed, whatever she had seen in Wednesday's expression egging her on with newfound vigor.
The werewolf started kissing down her hand, still not licking the blood away, then kissed her wrist and started nibbling on it too, only briefly, before continuing on with quick bites through the fabric of her sweater down her arm, then up again towards her shoulder.
Enid was now leaning over her, left hand resting on the backrest of her chair, effectively capturing Wednesday in between her arm to her right and her face to her left.
Caged in with an insatiable animal.
Enid's mouth was now inches from the mark on Wednesday's neck, and she felt her face twist into a wolfish snarl again.
She resisted the desire for now, instead moving her mouth to Wednesday's ear.
"Your unashamed voyeurism today was noted, by the way."
It was Wednesday who broke the tensing silence first and beat Enid to the punch. Enid furrowed her eyebrows at the words and released a pathetic whine.
"I couldn't help myself!"
"Hm," Wednesday hummed pensively. "Would you mind explaining to me what is going on?"
"I just–" Enid tried but it was so hard to put into words what exactly she was feeling. She groaned as the coil spring tightened again, ready for another round.
"You're just so freaking cute sometimes! And then I get this feeling that I just need to… need to bite you! Squeeze you! Hell!"
Enid could feel that Wednesday was about to protest, whether it was because she had dared to refer to her as cute or something else was up for debate. Enid didn't care. She snapped her teeth loudly and provocatively at Wednesday's ear in a way that even made Wednesday shift in her chair with newfound anticipation for whatever was coming next.
"I could just… straight up eat you up, Wednesday! Don't you get it?"
With each word clearly enunciated and drawn out she really hoped to get her point across. Each word spoken so hotly and layered with an aggression that was usually so unlike her. She barely recognized her own voice.
Wednesday's breath hitched and Enid's heart clenched some more.
"Is this some kind of wolf thing?"
"No! I don't know! No, I don't think so." Enid shook her head, leaning away from Wednesday's face so she could look her girlfriend in the eyes again.
There was a barely visible flush on the raven's face and Enid bit down harshly on her lip, her left hand squeezing the backrest of the chair so tightly she was worried the wood was going to burst under her strong grip.
"Have you never seen something so incredibly cute that you could just eat it up? Consume it whole? Bite at it, put it in your mouth? Squeeze it with full force until you both end up dead from exhaustion?"
Enid realized too late who she was talking to, her own desire short-circuiting her brain so she was left a rambling mess until she finally got what she wanted. The fingers had only been the beginning.
Wednesday shot her an almost incredulous look as if to ask 'Seriously?'
Enid whimpered once more in embarrassment and want.
"While I can say with certainty that I have never felt that way about anything before, I think I know the phenomenon you are talking about."
Enid raised an eyebrow, growing more impatient. But if Wednesday needed to talk this out first, fine.
"Yeah? What is it?" Enid asked, only mildly interested in the answer when thoughts of biting into Wednesday's neck or her shoulder or nibbling on her ear were clouding her mind.
"It's called Cute Aggression. It's superficially aggressive behavior that's caused by seeing cute things. To be honest, it always sounded like complete and utter nonsense to me. I think it's curious that I seem to stand corrected. And of course you would be the one to prove me wrong."
"Hey!" Enid protested, "What's that supposed to mean?" She pouted and used her most adorable puppy eyes.
Wednesday rolled her eyes. "It's a compliment, Enid." Then, Wednesday eyes darkened and turned cold.
"Though I fail to see how such strong reactions could have been caused by me. I always assumed that my manic and frenzied state of being while writing was something far from endearing. Pugsley has always said I look utterly ludicrous when I write."
This made Enid smile. "Oh, yeah no, you totally do."
And this just confused Wednesday more. "Then why–"
"– Because I love that about you, Wednesday." Enid shook her head, her smile widening. "What other people find so fucking weird about you, I have come to love. I find you incredibly endearing, my mistress of gloom. Especially when you look like a maniac when you do the things you love."
Wednesday scoffed in amusement. "You are aware that this makes you just as weird as me, mon loup?"
Enid leaned in closer again, her nose and mouth brushing against Wednesday's as both of them now closed their eyes.
"Yes," she breathed against Wednesday's lips, which parted expectantly. Enid climbed into her lap, the chair creaking angrily at their combined weight. "It makes me weird as shit. And I think that makes this – us – so fucking perfect."
Wednesday hummed in agreement– and closed the remaining distance between them.
Enid deepened the kiss right away, tongue clashing against tongue, teeth against teeth. She felt especially daring when her fang came down on the writhing muscle that usually resided in Wednesday's mouth, which made the raven jerk in her chair in surprise at the sensation.
Wednesday pulled away for just a moment. "Seriously, does this aggression know no bounds?" Her voice was thick with the blood pooling in her mouth.
"I'm sorry," Enid said, realizing she was pushing and crossing a lot of boundaries tonight. "But I'm also just getting started, Wednesday. If you grant me permission to take things further, that is?"
Wednesday swallowed the blood in her mouth and considered Enid for a long moment, making the werewolf squirm uncomfortably and guiltily in her lap. She looked at her slobber and blood covered hand, and then cupped Enid's cheek with it.
"Permission granted."
And that's how both of them found out… that there was perhaps nothing cute about Cute Aggression at all.
~*~
There had been a lot of bloodshed.
They had eventually taken things to their bed – a bed that now looked like a ravaging war had been waged in it, torn pillow cases, claw marks in the sheets, and remains of once intact clothes strewn about the wasteland of what used to be a sanctuary for the exhausted.
Their bed had been a battlefield, and whatever Enid had wanted to prove to her about this Cute Aggression phenomenon turned out to be more unbridled aggression than anything cute.
Wednesday was absolutely loath to admit, but.. she had liked it. Handing over the reins to Enid last night had proved to be an exceptionally fruitful choice.
Enid had looked magnificent with her blood smeared around her mouth. Wednesday never thought Enid would ever want to take things this far with her, though perhaps her own reactions had been the perfect oil to fuel the flame of her girlfriend's desire, which had pushed her over an edge that she had been teetering on to begin with.
They both had been pushed over quite the number of edges, and Wednesday scolded herself immediately for such a terribly adolescent thought.
Enid stirred beside her and Wednesday turned her body so she could admire her girlfriend's sleeping form before she would wake up and see the pitiful state of their bed and undoubtedly be swallowed by feelings of guilt that Wednesday would then have to dispel with reassuring words.
She already mentally braced herself for such a gargantuan task.
But really, she should have been bracing for the type of emotion that overtook her by complete surprise at the sight of her girlfriend in the wake of this exceptional night they had spent together.
Enid was covered in specks of blood and bruising marks on her skin and was still partially wolfed out. Her ears were pointy, her fangs were showing, and a tail was flopping against the mattress as whatever she dreamed about seemed to make it wag in excitement.
Wednesday carefully sat up and admired her work on Enid's skin, as well has her partially wolfish features.
She noticed that Enid's claws were out too, as they dug into the pillow she was resting on, puncturing the colorful fabric and making white feathers spill out of its insides.
Then, suddenly, Enid snarled. Sharp, white teeth were laid bare against straining, red-painted lips in a warning that should be heeded lest whoever it was in Enid's dream dared to come closer and feel the wrath with which she could effortlessly tear through skin with her fangs. Wednesday shivered at the thought.
Enid looked absolutely beautiful.
Then, her ear twitched, the snarl intensified.
And Wednesday thought that, in that moment, she found some kind of understanding for the weird phenomenon Enid had experienced and shared with her yesterday when she was suddenly overcome with an intensifying desire to bite the tip of Enid's twitching ear.
When her ear twitched a second time, Wednesday succumbed to her desire.
She found adoration and admiration blooming in her chest at the restraint Enid had shown yesterday. If this was how easily she would fall victim and succumb to the same feeling, they would have been doomed from the start.
It would never fail to amaze Wednesday how there were still so many things she was finding out about her lover. She was a never draining well of surprises and pleasant twists.
But most of all, as Enid had put it so eloquently yesterday, she was also 'weird as shit'.
And that's exactly what made her so perfect.