Set after "The Axeman Cometh". I couldn't sleep last night, this is what resulted. Please excuse any exhausted ramblings. If you are reading my other fic, Ever Fallen in Love, I will be updating this weekend.

Disclaimer: American Horror Story does not belong to me. Only the idea for this little fic does.

Zoe/Kyle, Zoe/Kyle/Madison – Rated M

Coin operated boy, all the other real ones that I destroy, cannot hold a candle to my new boy, and I'll never let him go... - Coin Operated Boy by The Dresden Dolls

The second night after her resurrection Madison managed to keep down a bottle of ginger ale, a handful of saltine crackers, and a Hershey's kiss that Zoe smuggled her from Nan's hidden drawer of sweets.

"Thanks," she smiled at her roommate.

Zoe grinned back as she watched the girl on the bed. She picked up Madison's sunglasses again, placed them on her nose, "No problem. You need to eat to get your strength up."

"No," the other girl shook her head, "for, you know, finding my body, bringing me back to life, and shit." She was trying for casual, unaffected, but her eyes gave her away. She was serious. She really was grateful. "Being dead, or whatever, sucked."

It was Zoe's turn to shrug, feeling shy under the weight of the conversation.

Madison relieved her of the burden of silence, adjusting the drab pashmina draped around her neck. "So, what are you going to do about Frankenstein chained up down there in the green house?"

Shit, Zoe didn't know. Kyle had killed his mom. He was dangerous. But she liked him and he listened to her. He liked her back. Misty had said. And that was pathetic.

The undead psychotic she had to keep chained up liked her! Maybe they could go on dates and share popcorn at the movies! Then he could strangle her as she murdered him with her cunt of doom. Yeah, they were a match made in heaven.

Or the morgue, a voice reminded her. She had fucking made him. They had been united, right? Their unholy union sanctified by some lord of the underworld? Until death do they part? Fuck. Why was magic so shitty?

Sure it brought Madison back but Zoe was fairly certain that it had gotten her killed in the first place. That there was a chance it would get them all killed in the end.

Her roommate cleared her throat from the bed. Death had not cured her of the need to be the center of attention.

"He's not Frankenstein," Zoe replied evenly, distracted, as she stared off out the window into the night. "Frankenstein was the doctor, the creator. Kyle's the monster."

"I thought in the end Dr. Frankenstein was the monster though? For playing god and turning his back on the creature because he wasn't perfect, or something."

Zoe stared at her friend. When had Madison gotten deep? Did death do that to some people? While turning others into mother-murdering psychos?

"Can we, like, not get existential right now?"

Madison shrugged, touched her neck, the gaping hole still there, covered in alligator shit and whatever else was in Misty's miracle bayou mud. It was becoming a habit, checking to see if it was still there, if the whole fucking thing had been real or not. Whether she had actually been god-damn dead for a week.

"You could make use of him."

"Like how? Put him on a leash and turn him loose on our enemies?"

Madison laughed lightly, "Fun, but no. He might make a nice toy for you." There was a gleam in her eyes that made Zoe squirm, uncomfortable.

Haughtily, with an eye roll, she retorted, "He's a boy, not a toy, Madison."

"Boys are toys, Zoe," was the quick response. "Think what you could do with him. All chained up and at your mercy. Like a sexy little pet that could learn to do tricks."

"Tricks?"

"The best kind of tricks."

"I'll kill him if I fuck him," Zoe bit her lip, thoughtful.

"But what a way to go," Madison grinned around the lip of her second soda, the bubbles showering her face and making her feel almost whole again, reminding her of champagne and better days. "And really," she sipped, swallowed, coughed lightly, "who said anything about fucking? There are so many other things you could do. It's like having a life-sized doll. Learn your limits, what you can do and what you like. You don't want to spend the rest of your life living like a fucking nun, do you?"

Zoe shook her head, hair cascading around her shoulders, as she wet her lips.

Madison appeared triumphant, "So, what are you waiting for? Get down there." Then smirking, "Maybe I'll join you if I feel up to it after this one." She sloshed her drink. "Cause if I remember rightly we found him a pretty sweet dick to go with those strong arms and nice legs."

She might have rolled her eyes at her friend but Zoe was already moving toward the door seemingly driven by a force outside of herself, compelling her along the hall and down the stairs.

They had spent time together, she and Kyle, since his arrival, since she brought him into her home. Zoe fed him his meals, read to him the night prior to help him drift into sleep. She spoon-fed him, handfed him: oatmeal, then soup, and finally fried chicken from the larder. He ate every bite she offered. Sitting on the floor, patiently waiting for her to bring the food to his mouth, eyes watchful, soulful, manacled hands at his sides. He had reached for her as she read him Treasure Island, and she had let their fingers tangle together, but that was all. The small act seemed to please him though.

When she wasn't with him Kyle tended to stare off into space, gaze unfixed. But the moment he sensed her enter the room he came back to awareness, making noises, vying for her attention. If she ignored him he could become aggressive, tugging at his bonds, whining and grunting, head thrusting forward. She had found it was easy to placate him. A hand on his chest, a soft whisper in his ear, a promise that it was all okay, that she would be back. And he would calm himself, satisfied.

"Kyle," she whispered into the dark, hoping not to scare him, wondering if he knew she would come. Her phone's flashlight lit the way but she had grabbed a book of matches, a few thick beeswax candles. Chains rustled from his place along the wall. "It's me. It's Zoe."

She stopped at a nearby table and deposited her burden, striking a match. She almost expected Kyle to shy away from the flames. Hadn't Robert DeNiro done that in that Frankenstein movie?

When the candles were lit she placed them on the floor in a semi-circle and one on the small table beside them. "Hi," she said again, studying the boy before her. Zoe had no idea why she was listening to Madison, what she was doing down there, with him.

But he had looked so good, so tempting, so whole, the day before when he had rushed toward her, clung to her, naked and shaking at Misty's. And she was so fucking lonely. She didn't want to be Dr. Frankenstein just as much as she didn't want Kyle to be a monster.

"I wanted to check on you," she told the boy before her as he stood up, his plaid button-up gaping open, just as it had been when she found him still clutching the bludgeon that had killed his mother. But she tried to put that out of her mind. She could help Kyle. And he could help her. Maybe, just maybe, she could salvage something out of her mess and if not, she would do her monster a kindness. And fuck him to death. She'd get off and he'd die inside her. It would be a small measure of happiness for both, right?

Kyle whined, metal rattled, as he reached for her like a lost child groping at its mother's skirts when found.

"They're not too tight are they?"

His eyes searched her face. Zoe licked her lips. His gaze followed her tongue hungrily.

But in for a penny, in a for a pound, she figured, asking, "You like me, don't you Kyle?"

He nodded vehemently, reaching again.

But Zoe wanted to be wanted as a girl, a woman, not as a creator or a mother. So she had to know.

Her hand touched his chest and Kyle made a startled noise like a bird, gaze tracking her fingers as they trailed down from his steadily pounding heart, along his abdomen, scratching at the coarse hair below his belly button, and flicking open the button of his jeans. Zoe pulled back, biting at her lip, and eyed the growing bulge in his pants by dim candlelight. Kyle grunted, shifted his hips forward. So she lowered the zipper and watched his cock bob free, thick and heavy. He sighed.

"So, you like me like that, huh?" She was trying for coy. She could be a coquette if she wanted and who was Kyle going to tell if she made a fool of herself?

His lower lip caught between his teeth, he nodded.

"You understand me?"

He nodded again.

"Do you want me to touch you?"

His head nodded so quickly, so forcefully, Zoe feared he could snap his neck.

"Do you want to touch me?"

He groaned, straining against his bonds, pulling as far from the wall, toward her, as possible, fingers grasping at air.

"Good," she agreed. "Now, I'm only going to unlock one of these. But if you're a very good boy and promise never to run away like you did again, maybe I'll unlock the other one in a little bit, okay?"

Another nod, his eyes wide and penetrating. His gaze was so black in the low light. She knew that his eyes were brown, a dark chocolate, but they were so fathomless, so deep, almost disturbing. They gave him a devious appearance, which clashed so incredibly with his bleached, shaggy curls. So innocent and boyish.

The moment the key turned, clicking, unlocking, his wrist fell free and his hand clutched for her, dragging her against his body. His dick trapped between them, demanding her interest.

Zoe had never had Charlie in her mouth. By the time she was ready to move onto bigger things than his probing fingers inside of her, she wanted to fuck. She figured there would be time for the other stuff later. She had learned from that experience a number of things; one of which was not to take anything for granted, there might not be a next time.

She dropped to her knees in front of him, his hand going to her shoulder, her arm, trying to tug her back up.

"I want to," she told him, his engorged dick at her eye level, and he wheezed out a stuttering breath before she took the tip of him, the head, into her mouth.

Kyle's grip on her arm went slack, fingers gliding into her hair, catching up the silken strands in his fist. But he was gentle.

Zoe looked up at him, his head back against the rough stucco, eyes closed, mouth hanging open. Her lips slid down over the length of him taking in as much as she could, running her tongue along the velvety flesh of his cock. He tasted clean, like droplets of rainwater you catch on your tongue and under that, like boy: clean laundry, grass clippings, wood smoke, and sweat. She couldn't fully articulate it, the flavor.

As she worked him Kyle began to pant, hips rolling forward. His chained hand was on the top of her head, resting, almost guiding but without any real pressure.

His cum tasted salty, felt thick and runny as it shot into her mouth, warm, coating the back of her throat. She coughed in surprise and Kyle immediately looked frightened, upset, whimpering like a kicked dog.

Zoe tongued the skin of his hipbone in response.

Madison was right; boys were the best toys.

"You taste good," she hushed, climbing to her feet as her lips moved along his chest, lingering over the scar around his neck, making him tremble. And then her mouth was on his, tongue pushing past his lips, hands gliding up into his hair as his wet, mostly soft, dick tickled her stomach, sticking to the flesh between her sleep shorts and her tank top.

Her boy moved his mouth along her jaw, nuzzling the join at her shoulder, sucking blood to the surface of her skin. His free fingers slid the strap of her shirt down, exposing a pert rosy-tipped breast to his questing lips. He suckled from her, teeth nipping, teasing her over-sensitized flesh. It was Zoe's turn to moan. Her pajama pants hung low on her hips as Kyle shoved them down, watching them fall to her ankles with a satisfied huff of breath, as he stroked her soaked folds.

With quivering legs and knocking knees, Zoe knew she was going to go crashing to the floor at any second. Her hands reached blindly for Kyle's still chained wrist and quickly divested him of his last manacle. They slid down the wall together, her landing on his thighs, his hand trapped between them as his fingers tweaked her clit. Zoe's mouth pressed against his, desperate to quell the noises trying to escape her. He hummed against her mouth, fingers shifting inside of her. His other hand was around the back of her skull, holding her in place, as she tried to remove his shirt, shoving it roughly down his arms to expose more skin to her questing fingers.

"Well, well," a scratchy voice drawled from the doorway. Kyle's head whipped up, his fingers flexing, scissoring inside of Zoe, making her squeak and thrust herself down harder into his lap. He was hard again, nudging her thigh.

Wrenching her mouth away from his while her body clamped down on Kyle's fingers, she breathed, "Madison."

"Thought I'd check your progress," she said, cocking a brow, tongue caught saucily between her teeth.

How did she look so sexy less than forty-eight hours after being dead, Zoe wondered. And in that god awful sweater too. She had been wearing it like some kind of armor, a security blanket.

The other girl took two steps forward causing Kyle to growl deep at the back of his throat, the hand not inside of Zoe clutched at her waist to the point of leaving bruises. "It's okay, Kyle," she whispered against his ear, kissing his cheek as he gazed at her in wonder. "She's my friend."

"Yeah," Madison agreed, pulling the scarf from her neck, slipping her fingers into the waistband of her black leggings. "I'm not here to steal her away, Romeo. I'm here to help," she lifted a shoulder, "cause without me you're either going to be insanely hard up or fucking dead. Again. And I think we both know that's no fun." The zipper on her cardigan came down revealing her naked chest, torso. Last it was her practical, very un-Madison Montgomery cotton panties.

Kyle eyed her with a mixture of trepidation and intrigue, still clinging to Zoe like she was his only lifeline.

"Here," Madison touched Kyle's shoulder, "lie down." Zoe got up on her knees, let him move and shift beneath her all the time offering soothing little noises, running her hands along his chest, as his fingers continued to slowly work her. Next Madison grabbed Zoe's arm, "Now you budge up."

"Up?" she asked, lost in the sea of her building orgasm.

She could see her roommate roll her eyes even in the low light. "Sit on his face."

"But I don't know if..."

"Only one way to test the theory," Madison winked and Zoe found herself shifting forward, Kyle's eyes watching her.

"Is this okay?" He swallowed, nodded, pulling his hand away so that she could drop her dripping snatch onto his open, waiting mouth, feeling his vibrating pleasure between her thighs, his tongue darting out to lap at her clit, to dip inside. "Oh!" Her body tensed, clenched, broke apart around him, soaking Kyle's face but he didn't stop, instead he invested himself with renewed vigor to clean every drop from her warm pink flesh.

Madison was behind her and as Zoe glanced over her shoulder she watched the other girl sink down slowly over Kyle's throbbing erection. "Oh, god," she groaned. "We picked a good one," and Zoe wanted to laugh but Kyle had been surprised, bucking his hips, his lips clamping down, sucking harder as Madison rode him in a steady, building rhythm.

"Do you think he can breathe?" Zoe panted, hips canting against the boy's face.

"Probably," Madison replied with a groan. "Lean back." Zoe did as she was told, turning to look, and found her friend's lips on hers, tongue gliding along first her lower lip then her teeth.

Kyle was grunting, groaning, his hands on Madison's hips. Madison's hands in turn were cupped over Zoe's breasts, palming, stroking her soft flesh. The sounds from the boy beneath her were driving Zoe into the throws of a second orgasm just as the girl behind her clamped down on his cock, coming with a whimper.

After a couple more thrusts Kyle spilled himself inside of Madison who slumped forward against Zoe's cool, tacky back, her fingertips tracing patterns on her friend's thighs. Zoe lifted herself from Kyle's face, glistening in the candlelight, coated with her and slipped back to seat herself on his chest, a knee on either side of him. His hands were on their legs, their backs, running along protruding vertebrae and sharp hipbones, their two bodies one in their closeness, and once more humming to himself, eyes closed.

When they had all come back to themselves, sleepy and sated, Madison stood on shaky legs, groping for her pants, throwing them over her shoulder. "You're going?" Zoe mumbled, scooting backward and bending in half so that her cheek could rest on Kyle's chest, his fingers playing with the long strands of her hair.

"My bed is way more comfortable than this floor." When Zoe made no move to get up and join her she added, "And somehow I doubt anyone in the house would appreciate walking in on this sight in the morning." Her roommate groaned, shifting reluctantly, knowing that her friend was right.

Kyle, who had been half way to sleep was suddenly wide awake, aware, distraught. "No!" he stormed, grabbing Zoe's hips, keeping her in place on top of him. "No," he repeated, eyes wild.

"He speaks," Madison said with surprise.

Zoe shrugged. "Maybe we should bring him up with us," she suggested, head tilted, wetting her lips.

"I have always wanted a boy chained up in my room."

His gaze swept between them, finally settling on Zoe, pleading with her without words.

"Yeah," she smiled, "come on, Kyle. Up we go."

Zoe grabbed his shirt from the floor, tugged up his zipper and did the button. "You want to sleep in my room?" He nodded, eyes wide, lower lip trembling.

"Our room," Madison corrected. Zoe rolled her eyes so that only Kyle could see and he bent his head to kiss her clumsily. "Okay," the other girl groaned, "you're disgustingly cute together. I get it," and threw her arms up in the air. "Now come on, my ass is freezing."