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“This is a foolish proposition.”
Wednesday crossed her arms, posture rigid, expression flat. The very suggestion bordered on offensive. Wrestling implied competition, and competition implied a measurable outcome. There was no universe in which Enid Sinclair defeated her in a physical confrontation.
“I would win.”
“Please,” Enid groaned, flopping dramatically onto the bed. “I never have anyone to play fight with,” she whined. “And it’s not about winning. It’s about having fun.”
Wednesday could understand the appeal of the fighting aspect.
But the play part ruined it.
Still, she hesitated.
She wasn’t fond of the idea of actually injuring her. Not because Enid was weak—she wasn’t—but because the thought of leaving marks on her skin made something twist unpleasantly in Wednesday’s stomach. Enid was… far too physically appealing to damage. The idea of hurting her, even accidentally, made Wednesday feel strangely ill.
Enid leaned closer, eyes wide and pleading, her gaze fixed on Wednesday like she already knew the answer. Her tail swayed just slightly behind her, hopeful.
Wednesday felt disgusted with herself.
Since when had she become soft?
It didn’t stop her next words.
“I accept your proposal for battle.”
Enid’s pupils immediately snapped into pinpoints.
Wednesday registered it a second too late.
Enid launched forward, tackling her square in the torso. The impact drove Wednesday onto her back, the air punched clean from her lungs in a humiliating rush. For half a second her vision sparked white.
She reacted on instinct. She bucked her hips sharply and twisted, using Enid’s momentum against her. They rolled. Wednesday hooked her arm beneath Enid’s shoulder and shoved hard, sending her sideways.
Enid hit the mattress with a startled laugh.
A laugh.
Wednesday didn’t allow herself the insult of reacting to that. She kicked out her foot the instant Enid sat up, planting the sole of her foot against her chest and pressing her away. A measured distance to reestablish superiority.
“Dissipointing position to be in so soon” she said coldly.
Enid only grinned, breathless, hair fanned wildly around her head.
At that moment she realized she made a mistake.
Enid’s hand shot out, fingers closing just beneath Wednesday’s knee. She yanked hard.
Wednesday swore under her breath as her balance collapsed. She tried to pivot, to twist free, but Enid moved faster than logic allowed—rolling, dragging, using brute strength over calculation.
Suddenly Enid was on top of her.
Wednesday stiffened, assessing angles, searching for an opening, but her focus fractured in an infuriating way. Enid’s weight wasn’t exactly crushing but definitely enough to hold her there. Her breath was warm against Wednesday’s skin. Her pupils had blown wide, fangs peeking just slightly, ears upright as a low, pleased snarl curled at her lips.
It was… arousing. There was no other accurate way to describe it, and Wednesday resented the clarity of that realization.
“Got you,” Enid said, smug and soft all at once.
Heat pooled low in her stomach and her pulse jumped.
She clenched her jaw.
This was still a fight.
She surged upward, driving her lower body up, arms straining as she attempted to unseat Enid with sheer force.
Enid barely budged.
Instead, she made a breathless and delighted sound, and shifted her weight at the last second.
Wednesday found herself flipped with humiliating ease.
The mattress dipped as her front hit it. Before she could recover, fingers tangled into her hair,not painfully, but firmly enough to direct her.
Her face was pressed into the pillow.
She sucked in a breath, panic flaring as she tried to push herself up. All she managed to do was lift her hips, her position suddenly unmistakable, her ass pressed back against Enid’s clothed groin.
The realization hit her harder than any blow.
“Stay,” Enid growled, pushing her down harder.
Wednesday froze.
A blush spread across her face, creeping down her neck. She hated the way her body reacted, hated that she hadn’t seen this outcome coming, hated most of all that some traitorous part of her didn’t entirely want it to stop.
Silence fell besides the sound of their breathing.
Seconds ticked by without movement.
“Enid?” Wednesday tilted her head slightly so her voice wasn’t muffled, carefully neutral despite everything screaming beneath it.
Enid immediately pulled away, practically throwing herself off the bed. “Oh my god. I am so sorry.”
Wednesday lay there for a second, heart racing, staring into the pillow before forcing herself upright. She turned to face her.
Enid’s face was red as she dragged her hands down it. “This is so embarrassing.”
She shook her head. “No, it’s not.” She wasn’t sure how to expand on that—only that losing hadn’t felt the way it was supposed to.
“In what world is it not?” Enid let out a sharp, awkward laugh. “I was practically mounting you.” She paused. “Which, again, I’m so sorry.”
“In this world,” she said. Because Enid was wrong. And incorrect statements demanded correction.
Also, Wednesday found the stricken, mortified look on her face… intolerable.
She bit the inside of her cheek and held Enid’s gaze without blinking.
“I would describe it as arousing.”
Enid’s expression emptied.
Then flushed.
Then detonated.
“What?!” she nearly shrieked.
“Keep your voice down.” Wednesday looked aside as though discussing weather patterns. “I was merely correcting you.”
“Correcting me,” Enid repeated faintly, staring at her. “Just to be clear—you were hot and bothered by me on top of you?”
“Yes.”
Enid blinked rapidly. “Whoa. Okay. I was not expecting this.”
Wednesday’s stomach dropped with alarming speed.
Had she been too honest? She knows sometimes she can be too blunt, enough to the point of making people uncomfortable. She's never really cared, but with Enid that's the last thing she wants.
“Can I kiss you?”
Oh.
The dread evaporated so quickly it made her dizzy.
Wednesday opened her mouth to respond and found that no words arrived. Her mind, normally efficient, had completely stalled.
So she nodded.
Enid moved slowly this time. No tackling or snarling dominance. Her hand lifted, hesitated, then cupped Wednesday’s cheek.
The touch was warm.
Wednesday vaguely knew she was supposed to do something besides sitting up pin-straight and staring at Enid’s plump, pink lips. But she was too busy admiring.
Enid tilted her head, breath brushing across Wednesday’s lips.
But then she stopped completely, hesitation taking over Enid’s form.
Each millisecond furthered her impatience.
After brief consideration on what too do, Wednesday leaned forward and traced her tongue along Enid’s bottom lip.
She had read that kissing involved tongue.
Enid shivered.
A promising response.
Before Wednesday could evaluate further, Enid closed the distance properly, her mouth pressing to Wednesday’s with unexpected firmness.
The sensation was nearly overwhelming.
Enid kissed like she did everything else, enthusiastically. Her lips moved with increasing confidence, parting, pressing deeper, chasing the small involuntary sounds that betrayed her composure.
Wednesday’s hands, traitorous things, found Enid’s waist. Holding her there.
Enid’s thumb brushed just beneath Wednesday’s jaw, tilting her head slightly. The shift deepened the angle, made the kiss heavier..
She felt heat unfurl through her in steady waves. Her pulse thudded against her ribs, against Enid’s chest where they were nearly flush together.
So this was why people wrote poetry about this sort of thing.
Enid drew back only far enough to breathe, then leaned in again, softer now.
Wednesday disliked how much she enjoyed being savored.
When they finally separated, it was gradual. Reluctant.
Enid wiped at her own lip with a slightly dazed smile, eyes searching Wednesday’s face.
Wednesday realized she was smiling too.
The discovery startled her more than the kiss. But still, she couldn't force the slight uptilt of her lips down.
“Can we do that again?” Enid asked, suddenly shy beneath all that boldness.
“As many times as you want,” she replied breathlessly.
Enid’s eyes brightened.
This time, when she leaned in, Wednesday met her halfway.
And she did not hesitate.