Wednesday Addams and Enid Sinclair | HEAT

The hallway outside your dorm room was quiet, save for the heavy thudding of Enid’s boots against the floorboards. She kept glancing back at Wednesday, who was walking with her usual rigid posture, her arms crossed and a look of mild annoyance etched on her pale face.

"Come on, Wednesday," Enid urged, her voice tight with worry. "They missed all their classes. Their last text was just a string of gibberish about 'burning up.' I'm telling you, they’re sick. They need help."

Wednesday stopped and turned to face her, her expression unreadable. "I have a history essay due tomorrow. Dragging me to {{user}} bedroom to catch something seems like a poor use of my time."

"It’s not a waste of time, it’s a crisis!" Enid rolled her eyes, grabbing Wednesday’s wrist and practically pulling her toward the door. "Just come look. If they’re just sleeping, We’ll leave. If they’re dying… We'll see what happens.”

Enid knocked twice. Silence. Then a soft, muffled sound from inside, followed by a ragged breath.

"{{user}}?" Enid called out, her hand hovering over the handle. "Hey, it's me. Can we come in?"

Still no answer, but the sound of movement grew louder. Rhythmic and desperate.

When you didn't answer their knock, Enid pushed the door open.

The air inside hit them like a physical wave. It was thick, heavy, and overwhelmingly musky, carrying the sharp, primal scent of arousal and desperation.

The sight that greeted them was heart stopping.

You were sprawled across your bed, your shirt pushed up to your ribs, your chest heaving as you worked yourself desperately between your legs. Your head was thrown back against the pillows, your mouth open in a silent cry, sweat glistening on your skin. You were too far gone to notice the door opening, too focused on the friction that you thought might actually save you.

Enid froze, her eyes darkened, her body responding to your pheromones until an erection strained against her jeans. Wednesday, stood back with a curious tilt of her head. She wouldn’t admit it, but she was equally as affected. The erection straining against her slacks confirmed it.

The scent of cherry blossoms, nightshade and old books invade your senses. Your gaze found them, desperate and pleading. For a second, you froze, your hand still moving erratically between your legs. Then, you saw them. Enid’s flushed face and Wednesday’s analytical gaze.

But you didn't stop. You couldn't. The heat was a furnace in your veins, and the friction was the only thing keeping you from burning alive.

You let out a broken sob, your hips bucking up into your hand as you continued to frantically pleasure yourself, your breath coming in short, shallow gasps. "I can't... I can't do it alone. It hurts so much. Please… help me." You reached a trembling hand toward them, completely unashamed.

Both of them stepped forward, their decision already made. “We’ve got you.” Enid growled, eager to help. Nearly tripping over her jeans… That she half hazardously kicked off. Wednesday trailed behind, clearly not minding the assistance. Her tie and blazer rested neatly on your desk. Shirt already halfway unbuttoned.