Chapter Text
Wednesday can’t decide how she wants Larissa - a multitude of options flash through her mind, each more sordid than the last. Larissa waits before her, patience and control finally wearing thin as her fingertips dimple the leather of the chair and her hair falls wildly around her bruised neck.
Ruled mostly, at that point, by organs other than her brain, Wednesday drops to her knees on the ground before her.
She runs her hands up and down Larissa’s soft thighs, her focus narrowed to a single destination as she leans in and presses a wet, open mouthed kiss to the inside of one knee.
She’s done enough torturing - she presses more kisses to the crease of one thigh, before finally allowing herself and Larissa what she’s been denying.
Placing a feather-light kiss to Larissa’s clit, she inhales the scent of her before licking a broad stripe up the length of her cunt with the flat of her tongue.
And oh , the sound that wrenches from Larissa is delectable.
So she does it again, and again, technique all but out of her head as she devours Larissa with the sole intent of hearing all the noises she could bring out of her. She eats her out messily, almost lazily dragging her tongue over heated flesh as Larissa is reduced to choked moans and gasps above her.
A hand winds its way into her hair, not directing or pushing but mostly for a point of contact, Wednesday assumes. It’s almost selfish, the way she’s drinking her taste down. Larissa’s moans rise in pitch, if not volume, and it’s not surprising with the way Wednesday wound her up that it takes her such a short time to fall apart.
Those glorious thighs tighten around her head, the grip on her hair delightfully painful, and Larissa falls back with a gasp as she throbs against Wednesday’s mouth.
Not that it matters to Wednesday - she allows Larissa a moment of recovery, resting her head upon a pillowy thigh before testing the waters with another gentle kiss to Larissa’s center.
“I don’t think-“
“Oh, I know you have more in you than that. What was it you told me? You don’t tire easily?”
“You will be the death of me.”
“Isn’t that all we can ask for, dying such a death?” The last few words are a distracted mumble, Wednesday returning to the task at hand.
She’s more purposeful this time - mindful of Larissa’s sensitivity, she takes a delicate, measured approach.
Wednesday works her up slowly, the way she’d wanted to before she tasted Larissa and heard her properly and all thoughts of performance and order had gone out the window.
The dam seems to have broken for Larissa, and every gentle and slow touch from Wednesday’s hands and lips as they take their time on the insides of Larissa’s thighs draws a sound from her. The power is heady and all-consuming; Wednesday has one of the most formidable women she’s ever known reduced to moans and whimpers under her tongue.
Her fingers dance along the tops of Larissa’s thighs, occasionally scraping her nails along them to elicit a hiss. She’s lavishing the soft skin on the inner thighs in front of her with broad licks and wet, messy kisses, doing her absolute best to drive Larissa halfway to ruin before she even considers taking her the way she wants.
It works.
She can hear it in the pitch of Larissa’s voice, see it in the rapid rise and fall of her chest, feel it in the trembling of her thighs.
She knows Larissa won’t reduce herself to begging, not now, and Wednesday’s proved her point once already. Her hands ghosts over her skin, winding their way around Larissa’s thighs, digging her fingers in as she grasps and drags Larissa towards her.
She’s rewarded with a gasp as Larissa’s hand thrusts forward to steady herself, once again winding itself in her hair as Wednesday leans forward, the angle allowing her far better access.
Wednesday can’t help but preen, Larissa looking down at her with an expression that’s unfocused and desire-filled, but also has shock and surprise written plainly across it.
“Do you really think you’re the only one allowed to manhandle here?” She asks, her hands and fingers never faltering as they dance along the exposed skin in front of her.
“Just didn’t think you had it in you, Miss Addams.” The teasing effect is lessened somewhat by the hitches in Larissa’s breath and the twitching skin under Wednesday’s touch.
“Think again, Larissa. If you accept one thing about me, accept that I will always give as good as I get.”
With that, Wednesday leans in once more. She slides her tongue against Larissa, working her over slowly, reveling in the taste and feel and heat and smell of her. Larissa seems to have gotten a handle on her reactions once again, has clawed back some semblance of control, which just won’t do. Her breath is coming in pants, but there are no more of the wrecked groans that Wednesday had managed to pull from her before.
Wednesday pauses for a moment, her open mouth still pressed up against Larissa, and hums. The effect is immediate, Larissa’s back bowing and head tipping back.
“I wonder,” Wednesday starts, conversationally, as her fingers take over, “what would everyone say if they knew you were reduced to this by your most troublesome alum? Would that put a dent in your reputation, I wonder?”
“You give yourself too much credit.”
“Oh, I don’t think you give me enough.” Wednesday allows her fingers to drift down, teasing for a moment at Larissa’s entrance. She looks up from her position on the floor, hesitating as she assesses Larissa’s expression. There’s nothing in her face that gives her pause, just an open, undeniable wanting.
Wednesday pushes in slowly, feeling the heat of her around her fingers, savoring the moan from above her.
She adjusts to be able to give Larissa her full attention with her mouth and keep fucking her at the same time, unable to keep from moaning herself as the pulsing around her fingers brings more wetness to her tongue.
Tracing light circles around Larissa’s clit with her tongue, she settles into a rhythm with two of her fingers and loses herself in the sound of Larissa’s moans and the softness of the thighs around her.
She increases her pace, shifting the angle of her arm so she can start fucking Larissa properly, curling her fingers with every thrust until Larissa starts grinding against her. She can feel Larissa chasing her release, her movements getting sloppier as Wednesday tries to keep her in place.
“God, Larissa. All that arrogance and poise, and here you are, fucking yourself on my fingers. That’s what you really want, right? Someone to take control and make you feel good, for once?”
“You-“ Larissa starts, cut off by a particularly hard thrust that makes her throw her head back.
“Yes?” Wednesday asks, punctuating the question with a gentle kiss to Larissa’s clit.
“I-“ Again, Wednesday hardly lets her get a word in. She adds a third finger, Larissa letting her in and spreading her legs even wider.
“You can’t keep cutting me off to prove your point.” Larissa says in a rush, a flush spreading up her chest.
“Oh, Larissa. I think you’ll find that I can do whatever I want right now.”
Wednesday’s not a cruel woman; she wants too badly to see Larissa unravel under her to keep playing this game. She takes the hand that’s currently threaded through her hair and plants it firmly on the arm of the armchair, doing the same to the one that has her shoulder in a vice grip.
Looking Larissa in the eyes, she buries her fingers up to the knuckle and licks a wide stripe through the length of her.
That’s it, after that. No more teasing, no more games, she just fucks Larissa at a relentless pace, eating her out with abandon as Larissa grinds against her. It doesn’t take too long after that, Larissa being wound too tightly and having been held on the edge for too long. Wednesday can hear and feel her uncoiling, tightening around her fingers and Larissa’s hands gripping the chair so tightly it creaks, before she comes with a shudder of her hips and a louder moan than any that came before it.
Wednesday’s saddened to leave her new favourite place, but Larissa pushes her head away when the hypersensitivity overtakes her and Wednesday crouches back on her heels.
Larissa makes eye contact with her, her lips quirking up into a small smile before she lifts a foot and plants it on Wednesday’s shoulder, pushing her back onto the ground.
Wednesday looks at her, as she rises from the chair and stalks over to her, and the thrill of fear that runs through her is nothing compared to the anticipation that takes her over as Larissa’s smile sharpens. She can’t see either of them giving up for the foreseeable future.
-
Larissa has made some changes to her office since Wednesday was last in there. For starters, there is a delightfully plush rug in front of the fireplace. They’re taking advantage of it now, Larissa lying on her back as Wednesday sprawls over her, warmed by the fire and the exertion of the day.
It had, of course, been a school day. After Wednesday had returned the favour, as many times as she’d been allowed, Larissa had regretfully pulled her clothes on and gone to fulfill her duties.
It would be lying to say that Wednesday had wasted that time - she was in the middle of an investigation, and had an entire office full of resources at her disposal. Using one of Larissa’s discarded hairpins, she’d easily picked the locks on her bureau and flicked through all the files on the faculty (and some of the juicier ones on the students) before Larissa had come back.
Wednesday, sitting in that very same chair, her feet propped up on that very same desk. Paperwork scattered all around her. Wearing nothing but her underwear and the remains of her ruined shirt.
Larissa had taken one look at her and crossed the room in what seemed like two strides. She’d taken Wednesday on the floor with one hand pinning both of Wednesday’s, the other working in tandem with her tongue to bring Wednesday over the brink at least twice.
Afterwards, she’d gotten a thorough dressing down about confidential information and decorum (which was, honestly, a bit rich) and what if someone had walked in and Wednesday had enjoyed that almost as much.
Larissa had finished her lecture, chest rising and falling sharply in a manner that was thoroughly distracting, and Wednesday had just smiled a sharp, sardonic grin.
Which led them to now, with Wednesday tracing patterns on Larissa’s arm as Larissa makes a heroic effort to card through Wednesday’s birds’ nest of a head.
“You know I can’t let this go, right?” Wednesday asks.
She’s greeted with a sigh.
“I know. I suppose it would be unfair to ask, given that your indefatigability is one of the qualities that draw me to you most.”
“I don’t want you to think it’s for the same reasons we’ve fought over before, though.”
“How do you mean?”
Wednesday considers her answer for a moment, stretching out her aching limbs.
“I’ve considered my time at Nevermore over the years. Despite the fact that I’m perfectly self-sufficient and adaptable, I do recognise the fact that this school is the safe haven you purport it to be. I can understand wanting to defend this place against anything, including bad PR. I know you’re not burying your head in the sand, and I understand that it’s not wilful ignorance that leads you to… turning a blind eye to certain goings-on.”
“And this means…”
“I recognise that I have a unique ability to investigate these sorts of things without making the waves that you would. I won’t go nuclear, and I won't make things difficult for you by inviting too much unwanted attention.”
“Why dear, how very magnanimous of you!” Larissa drawls, the hand gently scratching at her scalp nullifying the sarcasm in her words.
“Mm, one of the hallmarks of the Addams name.”
“Not… a quality I would necessarily ascribe to all of them.”
“Something you’d like to share with the class, Principal Weems?” Wednesday asks, propping her chin up on her elbow and looking at Larissa with some ridiculously demeaning doe eyes.
“I’m calling an embargo on you ever referring to me by that again.”
“Considering I think this conversation is about to turn to my parents, I’m sure you’ll forgive me.”
“No, it was a foolish comment. Ignore it.”
“Larissa.” Wednesday props herself up on her elbow and looks Larissa in the eye. “This is going to be one of the weirdest questions I’ve asked in the past week, which is saying a lot. I have to know, were you in love with my mother?”
“Good grief,” Larissa chuckles, averting her eyes, “I won't deny that there was a time where I… Held some feelings for her, but I would never have called it love.”
Wednesday releases some of the tension that had crept into her limbs.
“And I would never… I mean, that was forty years ago. Any feelings held for your mother were mostly an adolescent resentment at getting hurt and discarded.”
“So none of this,” Wednesday starts, gesturing between the two of them, but Larissa catches her hand in hers and cuts her off.
“Only a fool would ever compare the two of you. The qualities in you that I admire and that draw me to you are solely your own, and solely the qualities that make you Wednesday Addams.” The words are spoken barely louder than a murmur, but the raw earnestness in Larissa’s face is almost hard to look at.
“Don’t make me blush.” Wednesday ducks her head, resting it once again on Larissa’s chest.
“Yes, I daresay there’s been quite enough of that already.”
-
Wednesday does, regretfully, have to leave.
Someone is out there with unknown motives and a lethal plant on their hands, and as much as she’d like to laze around in Larissa’s office for the next week, it’s unfortunately a pipe dream.
Her ruined shirt won’t do for her to leave in, so Larissa lends her a starched white shirt that is comically large on her (Wednesday won’t pretend that she doesn’t perform, just a little bit, getting dressed. It’s received well, if the dilation of Larissa’s pupils is anything to go by). Later, when she buttons it up and the purpling evidence of their tryst is covered, Larissa ventures a question.
“Will you be in town long?” It’s posed so casually, but Wednesday can sense an undercurrent in it.
“I intend to wrap this up as soon as I can, and then it’s back home for me.” She avoids eye contact, searching the room for one of her socks.
“And there’s nothing else to stop you from leaving?”
This gives her pause. It’s not something she would have expected from Larissa, being asked to stay in the most blatant way the other woman would ever express it.
“I can’t leave my work in the same way that you can’t, Larissa.” She regrets the words almost as soon as they’re out of her mouth, not wanting to hurt Larissa, knowing how much it would’ve taken her to be the first one to bend.
“Doing what I do is who I am. But I…” At this, she reaches over and takes Larissa’s hand, ghosting a kiss over her knuckles. “You’re special to me. This is special to me. And I’m not that far away, and my work takes me close to here every now and again.”
Larissa brushes a lock of hair back from Wednesday’s face, lingering on her chin and tilting her head up to look at her.
“And that will be enough for me, I suppose.”
Wednesday leans into her palm, turning to kiss it. “I don’t think it will be enough for me, if I’m being honest.”
“Well,” Larissa’s face twists in a smirk Wednesday can only describe as sadistic, “the ten year class reunion is fast approaching, and I’m sure you’re as excited for it as I am.”
Wednesday groans at that, the expression on Larissa’s face letting her know that her absence from the five year reunion hadn’t gone unnoticed.
“Enid’s been talking about it since the last one.”
“Well, I expect to see you there, Miss Addams. Maybe displaying some of that class pride you were so intent on convincing me you had.”
Larissa just manages to dodge the swat Wednesday aims at her.
“No need for violence, Miss Addams,” She catches Wednesday’s hand, and strokes her fingers up her wrist. Wednesday’s breath catches in her throat.
Larissa leans in, her eyes glinting as she pauses an inch away from Wednesday. “I’ll be sure to make it worth your while.”