Chapter Text
She doesn’t know what disturbs her more.
The dream she had last night—a particular kind she normally doesn’t have, since it’s supposed to be suppressed like her bodily urges—or the fact that she’s now standing again in front of the gates of Willow Hill for an unplanned second visit.
Wednesday grinds her teeth so hard that a muscle inside her cheek twitches as she stares up at the metal letters spelling Willow Hill, set against the backdrop of the building swallowed by an approaching storm—the first drops of rain already beginning to fall.
She narrows her eyes, knowing she should turn around and go back to Nevermore. She has more pressing matters than her anger toward Tyler after their last conversation, especially his entitled words about how she fell in love with the monster inside him—that their dark hearts found each other on purpose and that she didn’t run from him when she should’ve—and then there was his violent promise to Enid, a threat made with claws and blood that left no room for doubt since her vision. Wednesday told him exactly what he was in return. And the memory of his growled screams echoing behind her, accompanied by the clinking and clattering of chains holding him back as the metal-reinforced door slammed shut once more, had been music to her ears. But now, after time to process it, those sounds have twisted into anger.
Her eyes narrow further.
She really doesn’t know what possessed her to come back here. But she knows she cannot sleep tonight if she doesn’t find out.
Wednesday makes quick work of sneaking past the guards and employees, slipping unnoticed down to the lower levels of the asylum until she’s back in front of the thick metal door leading to the high-security cells. Using a stolen card she’d pilfered sneakily from one of the staff rooms with a lousy, easy code, she unlocks the door. Thing swiftly takes down the guard sitting at the monitoring table for Tyler’s cell—knocking him out cold. With the cameras looped to erase any trace of her presence, Thing gives her a thumbs-up.
Wednesday steps forward to the last metal door separating her from Tyler’s cell. The door groans as she pushes it open, revealing the dimly lit room divided by thick iron bars. Tyler is there, chained to the back wall as before, his broad shoulders tense, head bowed as if in prayer.
She lets the door close behind her with a heavy clang, straightening and lifting her chin in silent challenge. It takes a moment—though she’s sure Tyler’s noticed her already—before the chains clink softly as he shifts and lifts his head. His eyes—those wild, amber-flecked eyes that seem to almost glow in the dim light—lock onto hers, and the air between them thickens instantly. Wednesday’s muscles tense against her will, but she holds her ground, her expression a frozen mask of ice.
Tyler just stares, almost lazily, the only movement the rise and fall of his chest, the hard planes of his stomach visible down to his navel, where a strong V-line disappears into the waistband of his gray sweatpants. The fabric hangs low, clinging to his hips, hinting at the strength beneath. The sight sends a wave of unwelcome heat through her, coiling low in her belly, and she clenches her jaw, willing it away as she forces her gaze back to his eyes. To her dismay, Tyler catches her lapse, a low chuckle rumbling from his chest.
“Back so soon?” His voice is a low growl, laced with mockery, but there’s something else beneath it—something that sends another unwanted roll of heat through her body.
Ignoring it, Wednesday steps closer, her boots clicking against the white-tiled floor, each step a deliberate challenge. Flashes of her dream—dark, tangled, and far too vivid—flicker through her mind, but she pushes them aside. She stops just short of the bars splitting the room, close enough to feel the cold radiating from the iron.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” she says, her voice cold as the walls around them. “I’m here to make sure you understood what I said last time. I didn’t think you did, over all your animalistic screaming and growling when I left.”
Tyler laughs, a dark, rumbling sound that vibrates through the small space, making her skin prickle. “Oh, really?” He leans forward as far as the chains allow, his gaze never leaving hers, his eyelids half-lowered in amusement. “You keep coming back when you say you won’t Wednesday. If anyone’s confused about what you said, it’s you.” He tilts his head slightly, his messy, sweat-dampened hair falling over his brow, giving him a predatory edge. “Honestly, I’m not surprised.”
Anger pulses through her veins—how dare he—and she steps closer, her nose nearly brushing the cold bars, her eyes unblinking and furious. “You’re nothing but a beast in a cage,” she says, her words sharp enough to cut. “A monster who thinks he knows me—”
“Oh, but I do know you,” Tyler interrupts, his voice dropping to a low rasp that feels almost like a caress as he pushes off the wall and begins to stalk toward his side of the bars, holding her gaze with an intensity that makes her breath catch. “I know the way your heart races when you’re near me... I can hear it—like a trapped little bird fluttering inside your chest. I can feel the heat rolling off your body, the way it spikes whenever I’m close. I know the way you look at me... when you think I don’t see.” He tugs at the chains, the metal groaning under his strength, and she wonders—not for the first time—if they could truly hold him. He keeps moving as he talks. “And I know...” he goes on, his voice deepening into something that feels like a promise and a threat, “how much it kills you that your body craves something only I can give you, just as mine does.”
He’s now directly in front of her on the other side of the bars, towering over her, his broad frame filling her vision. She stares up at him, eyes ablaze, their breaths mingling through the narrow gap, the air thick with tension. Her pulse hammers, betraying her, and she feels the infuriating urge to press closer, to erase the barrier between them.
“You’re wrong,” she says, but her voice wavers, not as steady as she wants, exposing the war inside her. She wants to deny his words, to choke out the fire he’s stoking—but it spreads, relentless. Her thighs brush together, a futile effort to smother the heat.
Tyler dips his head, messy hair spilling into his eyes, shadowing the feral twist of his mouth as he murmurs, low and certain, “And still... here you are.”
The words ignite a volatile push and pull within her—fury clashing against the undeniable pull of desire. Her hands grip the bars, knuckles paling as the cold iron bites through her damp coat sleeves.
“You think you have power over me from behind these bars?” she hisses, her voice laced with venom, but her body leans closer, betraying her words. “You’re pathetic.”
Tyler’s eyes darken, a feral glint in their amber depths, his broad chest heaving as the chains clink with each subtle shift of his weight. Sweat beads on his brow, trickling down the side of his face, mixing with the messy strands of hair that cling to his skin. “Pathetic?” he repeats, his voice rough and low, sending a shiver racing down her spine. “I don’t need power over you, Wednesday. You’re already here. Drawn to the monster like a moth to flame. You hate it. But you crave it. The way our dark sides tangle.” He leans in, eyes hooded. “Come closer, and I’ll prove it to you.”
Her breath catches, a sharp gasp she can’t suppress, as the heat in her core flares, slick warmth pooling between her thighs, making her shift uncomfortably. She wants to pull away, to deny the possessive claim that sends a dark thrill through her, but her fingers tighten on the bars, her back arching slightly as her nipples harden against the damp fabric of her dress. “Prove it?” she says, her voice a low, cutting purr—still barbed, but threaded with dangerous curiosity. She doesn’t retreat.
Tyler holds her gaze, amber eyes smoldering with defiance and hunger, before—without breaking eye contact, and to her surprise—he sinks to his knees. One knee, then the other. Chains rattling loudly as they drag across the scuffed white tiles. Wednesday’s breath catches again at the sight of him kneeling before her, his broad frame still looming even from the lower angle, the chains straining against his wrists, veins standing out along his forearms. The links glint dully, bolted deep into the wall behind him. That feral look in his eyes only sharpens—a predator poised to strike. His face is level with her belly now, close enough that she feels the heat of his breath through the fabric.
“That’s right,” he murmurs, voice a low, taunting rumble. “Unbutton your coat, and I’ll show you.”
She glares down at him, her eyes polished obsidian—cold and unyielding. Her lips press into a thin line, but then her hands move, slow and deliberate, undoing each button. The damp wool parts, revealing the black dress clinging to her pale skin, rainwater soaking the fabric until it’s almost translucent—outlining the swell of her breasts, the taut peaks beneath. Her ribs rise with each shallow breath.
“You’re nothing but a chained animal,” she says coolly as she opens the last button and steps closer until her hips nearly touch the bars, her fingers curling tight around the iron, lips parting in anticipation, thighs trembling faintly with unwelcome need.
“I am,” Tyler growls. The chains go taut as he leans forward, shoulders bunching. “Now lift your skirt, press closer, and let me taste you—let me make you come on the tongue of the monster you claim to hate so much, and see who’s right.”
Wednesday feels her knees weaken, thighs trembling as the slippery heat between them deepens—damper, needier. She stares down at him for a long moment, her eyes narrowing, before one of her hands move, hiking her skirt up sharply, the black fabric bunching in her fingers, exposing the pale, quivering skin of her thighs and stockings, the rain-soaked hem leaving faint droplets on the tiles.
Her hips press forward against the cold bars again, the iron biting into her skin. Her breath escapes in soft, uneven pants, each exhale a quiet rebellion against her own need. Her twin braids sway gently as she pulls herself closer, fingers tightening around the bars, nails scraping the scarred iron, the cold seeping into her palms. Her dress’s bunched-up fabric becomes trapped and held up by the bars and her belly, revealing her most intimate vulnerable part—her covered, dripping middle between her thighs—to the cool, teasing air of the cell—a bold, wordless dare to Tyler to follow through on his taunt.
Tyler’s eyes flash with dark triumph, a low, guttural growl vibrating deep in his throat. He leans in, shoulders tensing back to stretch the chains rattling louder over the floor. Metal hinges groan beneath his strength as he strains forward—then he’s there, right at the damp curve of her panties, the warmth of his tongue pressing flat and hot against her covered slit.
Wednesday’s breath catches sharply, a soft gasp slipping past her lips. Her fingers clutch the bars tighter, head snapping up for a moment, eyes fluttering closed before falling open again—glaring down at him as his forehead presses hard against the bars. She watches, captivated, as he moves between her thighs, jaw working in slow, steady rhythm, lips and tongue tracing and teasing—panting softly as if struggling to hold back—every motion sending new waves of heat pulsing through her, climbing in intensity.
Then, suddenly, between licks, she feels his teeth catch at the fabric of her panties—and the next sound is the tear as he rips them away with his teeth.
Before she can protest, he’s back at her slick lips, the touch more direct, more intense. She thinks she can hear him swallow thickly, as if drinking her wetness down, and it makes her thighs tremble. This new level of intensity breaks through Wednesday’s control, and a surprised whimper slips out—pathetic and weak in her own ears—but she can’t stop it. More follow soon after as her whole body focuses by itself on Tyler’s tongue moving and spreading between her slit, circling her clit, dipping the tip of his tongue inside her clenching entrance just to tease her more. She knows it’s teasing, too, as she hears the dark chuckle from him at the sounds he manages to pull from her.
It’s quickly almost too much to bear, but she doesn’t want to lose to him. So she decides to turn the tables.
With a surge of fierce anger and strength, Wednesday pushes herself off the bars, hips sliding just out of reach. Immediately, a low, threatening rumble spills from Tyler’s throat—a growl that’s more Hyde than human—and she knows she’s pushing his limits. But she holds her ground, gripping the bunched fabric of her dress with both hands and lifting it just enough to keep her most intimate curve in view, glistening with slick tracing from the lips to the sides of her thighs, one delicate thread dropping in a small translucent bead—a mix of her own slick and his saliva.
Tyler’s chains rattle sharply as he tugs hard, every muscle in his shoulders taut and trembling with the effort, veins bulging like cords ready to snap out beneath his skin—a harsh growl rumbling deep in his chest. His lips pull back slightly over clenched teeth, chin damp with remnants of her wetness. His eyes flash with desperate hunger and frustration—the raw, feral edge of a man pushed to the brink, locked in tunnel vision.
But she keeps herself just beyond his reach. Her thighs still tremble, both from the lingering heat and the thrill of control. It’s intoxicating. She watches him, savoring the way his need twists into madness, knowing full well she holds the power here—even if he likes to pretend otherwise.
“Beg,” she whispers, voice dripping with dark command and promise.
Tyler’s breath hitches sharply, a raw, ragged intake that borders on a growl—but this time it’s anger, not submission. His eyes darken further, shadowed with want and frustration. His muscles tense as he jerks sharply against the chains, the metal clanking loudly as his body strains toward her.
“Don’t—” he snarls, voice rough and demanding. “Don’t tell me what to do. I’m not some pet to beg for a treat.”
But Wednesday doesn’t flinch. Her voice drops even lower, velvet-smooth and unwavering, still holding up her dress, feeling the slick heat dripping between her thighs, the way his eyes are glued to the bare, trembling wetness she teases just beyond his reach.
“Beg,” she repeats calmly.
That sets him off into snarls and growls, clearly showing how much he’s holding back the Hyde—the way his muscles and skin seem to shift and swell beneath his skin. Yet he holds back, still fully focused on her. The longer he resists, the hotter the thrill surges through her veins. She watches his defiance crumble until, finally, he stops struggling and grows still, as close as the chains and bars will allow. His shoulders slump slightly, his forehead resting sideways against the bars, breath ragged and heavy.
“...Please,” he rasps, voice hoarse and thick with surrender and need. “Please, Wednesday...”
She’s almost tempted to give in—but decides to make him suffer a bit more.
“Not good enough.” To rub salt in the wound, she lowers one hand holding up her dress, trailing a pale finger slowly through her puffy, glistening lips—dragging across the wet heat and smearing the slickness wider across herself with deliberate, teasing slow strokes, mimicking exactly how he traced his tongue over her before.
A very quiet sound rips from Tyler—almost inaudible, but she hears it: weak, broken, yet still edged with frustration and anger—and she can’t hide the cruel grin tugging at her lips as she continues teasing herself, eyes locked on his dark, hooded gaze—half-lidded and desperate. She remains unbothered, waiting.
It doesn’t take long before his voice breaks again, begging louder:
“Fine, please, Wednesday—I’m begging you. Please, let me.”
She stops her hand and holds his gaze—letting him linger in the delicious torment of anticipation just a little while more—before she steps forward, pressing her bare hips flush against the cold bars again. The iron bites sharply into her heated skin as she lifts her dress with both hands, exposing herself fully once more, breath catching and growing shallow, uneven. She leans back just enough to watch him clearly, heart pounding with the thrill—
And Tyler doesn’t hesitate. He dives back in instantly, tasting her slick, trembling heat, a muffled moan vibrating deep in his throat as his eyes flutter closed, jaw working in a slow, relentless rhythm—devouring every bare inch exposed to him. She can’t help but notice how much she’s undone him just by waiting—spotting the prominent, hard bulge pressing against his gray sweatpants where he kneels—aching and pulsing for release but unable to, trapped by the cruel chains binding his hands—yet still completely focused on her.
The sight of how utterly undone he is, the desperate way he’s pleasing her now and ignoring his own need, sends a fierce, intoxicating fire racing through Wednesday’s veins—and it spills out in a loud, high-pitched moan that echoes around the cell and flushes her cheeks with hot embarrassment.
Tyler responds without hesitation, lapping harder, tongue parting her slick lips more firmly, pressing flat along the tender, soaking folds. A slick gush spills from her entrance, drawing a deep, guttural sound from his throat—somewhere between a growl and a moan. He strains harder against the chains, feeling just how close she’s getting; how tightly her muscles clench around the tip of his tongue, her wetness flooding hotter and thicker. His rhythm grows brutal, plunging deeper and rougher, while the flat pad of his tongue grinds mercilessly against her swollen clit, dragging heavy, desperate strokes.
Wednesday loses herself in a torrent of stifled moans and shaky whimpers—caught off guard by the raw intensity of his hunger, which she’d underestimated—fingers clutching the bunches of her dress tighter, trembling violently, desperate to hold herself together—until finally, he pushes her over the edge.
Her back arches instinctively, head falling back as the tension coiled low in her belly snaps like a taut rubber band, sending wave after wave of fierce, shuddering pleasure coursing through her. Tyler doesn’t ease up; he continues his movements, helping her ride the waves, drinking in every ragged moan and breathy spill she offers him.
Once she grows quieter, trembling in the wake of afterglow, Tyler’s tongue slows, gentle now, tracing languid circles along her swollen folds, savoring the lingering sweetness of her release. Wednesday slowly catches her breath, eyes drifting down to him as his lips brush tender kisses over her skin, then trail softly along the sensitive inner sides of her thighs before he finally withdraws. His eyes open slowly, heavy-lidded as they meet hers. Then, with a soft clinkle of chains, he rises, towering over her once more, licking his swollen lips and humming low as he looks down at her.
“You taste...” he murmurs, trailing his tongue over his bottom lip again, “...incredible.”
Wednesday’s eyes glint, dark and cutting, her mouth curving in the faintest shadow of a smirk. “Savor it,” she says, voice low and even, “because I’m the one who decides if you get another taste—or not.”
Tyler’s nostrils flare, a wicked snarl pulling at his lips as he leans in just enough to make her pulse spike. “Big talk for such a tiny mouth... I must’ve done a terrible job if you can still talk like this. If the roles were reversed—” He leans even closer, breath warm against the cold metal bars, “—you wouldn’t be able to get two words out after I was done with you.”
A fresh wave of heat coils low in Wednesday’s belly, her insides clenching treacherously at his words. She grips the bars between them again as her thighs rub together beneath her dress—bare, damp, exposed since he tore her panties away—knowing exactly he’d follow through right here and now if the bars weren’t between them.
She tilts her head slowly. “Lucky me—that the beast’s caged and can’t get his claws on me.”
“...for now,” Tyler adds darkly, a rough chuckle rolling up from his chest. He starts to step back but suddenly ducks down, snatching her torn panties from the floor. Rising with a sly grin that turns downright wolfish, he tucks them into a pocket of his sweatpants. “...but I’m keeping these. I’ll need something for relief later.”
The implication takes a moment to land—until her gaze drops of its own accord to the still-prominent outline pressing against the front of his gray sweatpants, leaving little to the imagination as he slowly backs away.
“Pervert,” she mutters, eyes snapping back up to his face to glare.
Tyler chuckles softly. “Hey, I gotta live up to your expectations.”
By the time he’s leaning casually against the wall where he’s usually chained—trying to look as though nothing happened—Wednesday has stepped away from the bars and buttoned up her coat again. She ignores the tingling sensitivity beneath her dress, the cool air brushing over bare skin... and the intrusive thought of what he’ll do with her panties. Fair play, she supposes—after all, she got off and he didn’t. Though she itches to make him beg again.
Once she’s presentable, she turns toward the reinforced metal door—then pauses, one hand resting on the frame, and glances over her shoulder.
In the shadows, Tyler catches her lingering gaze and gives her one last small, knowing quirk of the mouth, his tall, broad frame a darker shape against the wall. The air in the cell still humming with what has happened. Wednesday holds his eyes for a moment longer—expression mostly unreadable, but softer than her usual stare—before stepping out. The clang of the door shutting behind her echoes down the hall.
Outside, she stops beside the desk where Thing waits, sitting on the shoulder of the knocked out the guard. Once the feed of the cameras is restored—and the guard now looks like he simply dozed off mid-shift in his chair—he scrambles up to her. Wednesday turns her head to the side, a faint heat creeping into her cheeks. He probably heard everything.
“This was supposed to go differently,” she mutters—then narrows her eyes at the hand. “Not. A. Word.”
Thing trembles in agreement. Wednesday tips her chin up, straightening.
“Let’s go before they realize I was here.”