Ever since the night they met, Morticia had been unable to sleep without Gomez by her side. Gomez himself found it unpleasant to sink into the depths of slumber without his bride in his arms, but he had nowhere near the trouble she did. Their pre-bed nightly routine was far from set in stone; leather, whips, chains and silk did not often make for a definitive routine, however much of a regular appearance they made in the Addams' master bedroom. Nevertheless, no matter how their evenings together passed, in a haze of pleasure and pain, it was collapsing together in exhausted bliss and sleepy declarations of love that soothed Morticia to sleep.
This night, Gomez had yet to join her in their marital bed. He had been in his study all afternoon, ostensibly deep in discussion with their new lawyer Weston, as the new quarter had rolled around and all new business was on the table. However, as Morticia had passed by the study on more than one occasion, she had clearly heard the clang and swish of fencing swords, and the odd short bark of victory from her husband. Hard at work, indeed. Morticia indulged Gomez with anything his heart desired, his quirks and the hot Spanish passion with which he approached everything were part of the reason she had fallen for him in the first instance.
But now it was a full hour past midnight, and Morticia had been in bed for three hours thus far. She had eventually drifted off into an uneasy sleep, tossing and turning as cruel nightmares of sunshine and smiles tortured her mind. She was unaware of Gomez stealing upstairs every thirty minutes to glance in at her, just to satisfy his longing for her as he worked late into the night. On his fifth trip, he noted that each time he laid eyes upon his wife, she was in a different position, unusual for her. Morticia, once asleep in his arms, barely moved, barely breathed. As he watched, he saw her dark red lips moving wordlessly, an anxious expression across her beautiful face. Deciding that his work could halt for the night now, Gomez readied himself for bed in something of a hurry; now the decision had been made, he saw no reason to stay away from her much longer. In no time at all, he had stepped over the flickering candles that lay on the floor surrounding their bed and slid in beside his wife. The second he was next to her, arms draped around her restless form, she sighed happily and came to rest against his chest, finally sleeping soundly.
Theirs was a marriage of equals, both equally enamoured of each other and able to turn the other into a trembling soul, driven by lust and adoration. In the daylight, each commanded the love, respect and easy affection of each other as they ran their home and family together. Come the night, however, and Morticia was in her element. She held Gomez's body, mind and soul in her gentle grasp, and enjoyed the control she had over him, as she would own every inch of him; from the moment the closed their bedroom door, until they collapsed hours later in exhausted ecstasy, drenched in sweat, covered in bites and bruises and tangled in satin. Then, and only then, did Morticia submit to her beloved husband. That dream-like state, half way between sleep and awake, where she was cradled in his arms, completely given over to his every whim and gazing up into that captivating face. Her heart did not beat its natural rhythm any longer, instead raced or slowed to beat in time with Gomez's, so complete was his command over her. She knew she was utterly vulnerable at these moments, would give Gomez anything he asked of her, and yet she also never felt safer, knowing he would guard and protect her throughout the night, until that dreaded sun rose again and they stepped out into another day, equal once more.