Black.
Black lace, chiffon, silk, velvet, cotton and latex drowned burgundy sheets. Dresses, skirts, corsets and blouses one by one were ripped from the wardrobe and discarded onto the gigantesque bed. The garments that were once laid gently and with care were now being tossed and pitched out of irritability. Morticia snatched the third to last dress off its hanger and held it to her chest in front of the mirror. She swept her hair over her shoulder and turned slightly to the left, not only scanning the dress but scanning in her head how it would look in any possible scenario while wearing it. The backless, spaghetti strapped number was one of her most simple gowns while on the hanger, but on her body it was a different dress entirely. But it wasn't right. Toss.
Defeated, Morticia abruptly took the satin robe off the stool of her vanity and pulled it over her shoulders, roughly tying the ribbon around her waist. She picked up a silver ornate hairbrush and began brushing her hair the way an executioner might sharpen his billhook. Piercing crystal eyes stared daggers in the mirror, probably sharp enough to add yet another crack in the oval glass. Suddenly, a warm sensation shocked her timid state, causing her to drop the hairbrush which landed in a much larger hand beside her own while another enveloped her middle. Her eyes adjusted from the vortex of her thoughts to what was right in front of her: the face of her husband over her shoulder, staring at her through the mirror. As always, adorning a most delicious expression.
"Gentle..." his voice poured in her ear and flowed through every vein in her body like a stream, the immediate relaxation causing her eyes to close and her head to drop to the side. "You mustn't treat silk like wool."
It felt like moths in her stomach fluttering towards the light that was his caress, and she exhaled softly. In the midst of her anxiety, she needed him. If she had the energy, she would immediately pounce on him. His lips pressed softly on the marble skin below her ear and he began to gently brush the ends of her long tresses that settled at her waist. Her arms hung, and she relaxed into him. Smiling as he felt the increase of her weight, his arm crept further around her and his hand latched onto her side while starved lips tasted her jawline. Again, she needed him.
In one swift movement she turned around to claim his jaw in her hands and his lips with her own. Gomez, delightfully surprised, made a sound of sheer pleasure and dropped the brush. Her kisses were quick and desperate, her hands switching their firm caress from his jawline to his hair and back, as if they were perilously searching for something. He pressed her to him, hands massaging her back and freeing a moan from her throat which sounded so luscious in his ear that he almost blacked out.
It was this behavior that confirmed her anxiety. Being the only person who could read his wife like the poem she was, Morticia only took control under two circumstances - whether she was lustful or anxious. If she was lustful, she would have already sought out Gomez on her own accord. Either way, he was more than ready to give her anything she needed from him. And the thought of her shamelessly showing her need for him right now drove him insane.
His hands trailed lower but suddenly gripped her once he felt the sting of his lower lip caught between her teeth. As she pulled him away from the vanity by his lip, he groaned and followed briskly as to avoid what could turn into a bloody and far more painful misfortune. Once at the foot of the bed she released his mouth and soothed the bite with her tongue. Gomez's head reeling and quickly losing any ounce of self control he had left, he growled and pushed her onto her back and onto all her discarded clothing from earlier, but none of it phased her. He dived on top of her, feasting on her neck and chest, his hands groping and exploring blindly whilst his thoughts drowned in the siren sounds she made as they grew louder with every touch. His weight ground into her and she wrapped her legs around his waist to feel him closer, but none of this was enough no matter how sensational it felt. Quickly, her hands found his waistband and began unbuttoning as fast as she could.
"Now. Now, mon cher, please..." He didn't need anything else. Her plead for him was a hymn of its own, and his hands moved to help her unbutton his fly. He would never tease her or make her beg further at this time, not while the hysteria in her voice made his heart cry. His other hand caressed over her inner thigh where he gently forced them apart and forced her arms over her head. She moaned in anticipation when -
"DINNER'S READY!" The large double doors across the room burst open and there stood Mama, beaming proudly.
"Qué chingados!" Gomez barked as he rolled off Morticia who gasped and quickly sat up. The couple's hands worked in a panic to tie, button or zip any loose clothing. Although this was a complete intrusion, they would never dare offend their unexpected visitor.
"Well don't get snarky with me, this was very poor planning on your part." Mama sighed in annoyance and leaned against the door, watching the two pathetically scramble.
"We'll be down in a minute, Mama!" Gomez glared at her as he fastened his belt.
"And don't you give me any shit, I'm feeding you. And it's getting cold." She turned to exit down the hall. Mama waited until she was further down the hallway to giggle at her son's beloved pout. The same little face he would make when throwing stones at baby ducklings in the pond when he was a boy, and kept missing.
Gomez sighed and stood up, moving across the room to close the doors Mama knowingly left ajar. Morticia smiled softly, struggling to compose herself. Her body was still writhing from his touch, her lips now plump from his tugging. She wanted more than anything to skip dinner and immediately take up where they left off, but she didn't want to risk another intrusion. One that, the second time around, might include a bucket of water.
"It's almost as if I own the house and yet I don't all at the same time."
"She's your mother, darling.."
"Mm." He turned to look upon her. Arms crossed protectively over her chest, her index finger stroking the cheek of her tilted face gazing at the floor. Reminiscing their lost moment of bliss, he knew. The small rise in her shoulders marked how tense she was. Quickly paced, he went to her and took her precious head in his hands, kissing her, tenderly. Her body sighed and her arms found his waist, letting the calm take over her. It wasn't fiery nor intense, but soft. Delectable. A kiss that brought a feeling of peace and comfort. A promise, that they would soon continue their dance together.
Parting from her lips, he pressed them to her forehead and opened his eyes, just now noticing the sea of mangled clothing on the bed behind her.
"What is all this, vida mía?"
She turned her head and her face fell once she realized her mess. It was like reality was creeping back into her world, all at once. "Oh...um. I don't know." She left the embrace to begin picking up pieces of clothing and draping them over her arm, slight embarrassment flushing her cheeks. Gomez eyed her and sighed.
"Don't tell me you're nervous about the reunion, tomorrow..."
She looked at him, a sudden change in her demeanor. "...Alright, Gomez. I won't tell you." She brushed past him without looking at him, crossing to her wardrobe. "Just as you didn't tell me until a day ago that you just happen to have an annual family reunion." She began rapidly putting away the dresses. "An extended family reunion."
Sensing her irritability, Gomez knew it would be wise to tread lightly. He helped pick up a couple of dresses from the bed. "My darling, I did not tell you because I did not think it was a big deal. The event planning is in Mama and Lurch's hands, you have nothing to prepare, you just have to be present!"
"Of course you would say that, that it's not a big deal." She took the dresses from his arm. "It's an incredible deal to me, Gomez. I didn't even know what it meant to be married to an Addams until I moved in a year ago and I saw the pictures, the articles, the events you get invited to, your entire family history displayed in your library. Think of it!" She hung up the dresses and moved to pick up more. "A measly Frump married to a Spanish prince, and she has nothing to offer but a painfully average backstory and plunging necklines." As she moved again to the wardrobe, Gomez took her arm and pulled her into him.
"You are far from measly... And I like your necklines." His hand traced from her breast up to her neck that he tilted back to claim her throat. She quickly dodged and moved to the wardrobe. He knew she couldn't necessarily be angry with him, for just a minute ago she attacked him like a lioness. But now she was refusing his touch. In tricky moments like these, Gomez learned it was best to just listen.
"I know you like them, they're for you. I wear them for you." Her hand clutched the tattered sleeve of a lace dress that flooded her head with memories. The first night of their honeymoon. She shook her head and hung it up with the others. "But not for your Aunt Anna Thesia, top surgeon of Europe, or for... for Cousin Croak, number one mortician in Portugal."
"France."
Mortica snapped her head sharply and threw a dress in his direction. He caught it and chuckled, but immediately swept to her side once her arms folded and her head turned away.
"Mi ángel, what is all this? These thoughts, these worries... is this truly what I've lead you to think of my family?"
Morticia's eyebrows lifted and she turned her head slightly, but avoided his eyes, still.
"That we would be so judgmental? For what reason, cara mia... I fell for you the moment I faced you for the first time. I fell even harder the moment you spoke. Mama adores you, Fester loves you. Cousin Itt and Thing couldn't dream of a closer companion." He dropped the dress and clasped her hands in his and brought them to his lips. "And I have no doubt that the rest will feel the exact same way... We stem from the same blood, the blood that came to tie with yours so perfectly. You are an Addams. All you have to do is show up, have conversation, throw a little cyanide in their rum and they won't even remember what happened. None of those silly things you're worried about define you, just as none of it defines me. Or my family."
Morticia couldn't help but feel slightly ashamed that she made the assumptions so quickly, and he never gave her reason to doubt herself. If he had no problem showing her off to his relatives, why should she feel so insecure. He was right. The Addamses she came to know so dearly this past year were a closer family than she had ever known, so what is so terrifying about meeting a few more? She should be so delighted. She wouldn't deny that she was once unsure why a man like Gomez had fallen in love with her, but those thoughts dissolved quickly once he proved to her again and again that none of it mattered. But had those thoughts just now crept back into her mind? Perhaps it's mere stubbornness, but she still wasn't quite satisfied. Not at all.
"...Gomez, what about... what do I tell them when they ask." Her voice was soft. He lifted her chin.
"When they ask what?"
"How we met? How all of this happened?"
"What do you mean?"
"You know, do I tell them I married my sister Ophelia's betrothed? That we had a complete affair?"
"What?"
"How we made love behind the staircase while she baked the wedding cake? How's that for conversation; Gee, how was the wedding you two - wonderful, it was my sister's." Morticia shrugged and moved past Gomez and to her vanity, fighting back a smile that was tugging at the corner of her mouth. She didn't know why any of this was flooding out of her mouth or if she believed any of it. Perhaps for the attention? Why, never. Although she could almost feel the fury radiating off of him as she moved past. She began to nonchalantly search for a pair of earrings as a distraction.
"Is that was this is all about?"
The dinner bell struck, shaking the house with a piercing ring and giving Morticia an excuse to run from the absolute can of bobbit worms she had just opened.
"If we don't go downstairs now, it will be our heads on the platter." She tossed her hair over her shoulder to check for any bruises already forming from her husband's teeth, earlier.
"Are you ashamed of how we met?" his tone heightened. "Because I think it's absolutely magnificent. Brilliant, even!"
"Gomez, later."
"Morticia, now-" she gasped once she was whisked around and forced to sit on the surface of her vanity, looking up at his penetrating stare. His hands pressed firmly on her hips, fingers digging into the flesh. He was in control, now, and the urge to pounce on him began to build again.
"I know you're anxious about tomorrow, and I sincerely apologize for telling you so last minute. I will make it up to you, but now you're being ridiculous. I forgive you for thinking my family was so judgmental-"
"I didn't ask for your forgiveness," she taunted. He hissed and lunged his face close to hers, shifting her head backwards so quickly that it hit the mirror. Crack. Her eyes were wide. He knew now that she was just being stubborn. Now, he understood the game.
"You should. I could make you." He spoke lowly, his hand trailing up her torso to latch gently around her neck. "Beg. Just like you did only moments, ago... And as for Ophelia, this must be a joke. She ran off with Cousin Itt during our wedding, completely unfazed. Or did you forget?"
"I didn't forget." Morticia defended, firmly. "I also don't forget what you said you were, let's see, what was it... a weak, sniveling coward?" His hand tightened around her neck and she let out a small gasp followed by a sinister giggle.
"Such behavior, today..." Gomez smirked. "It seems like you've forgotten a lot of things, Morticia." His other hand crept underneath her robe and slid between her thighs. Morticia held her breath. "Like how it felt in those days to sneak around. To be so discreet... in the cave, or behind the stairs... the dumbwaiter. And you can act guilty and gracious of your mother and sister all you want, but I know you wouldn't have traded it for anything." His hand released from her throat and she exhaled, her need building. Not taking his eyes off hers, he knelt down in front of her. "Or shall I remind you?"
He forcefully pulled her legs apart, his mouth ravaging the flesh of her inner thighs. She dove her hands into his hair once his mouth was exactly where she needed it, her head tilted back and her moans becoming whimpers the longer she let him love her. This is exactly what he lived for. He groaned and happily took the hint of her hands pressing on the back of his head and gripped her thighs roughly, tilting her slightly on her back.
"Gomez..." she breathed. His name falling from her mouth shocked his every nerve. Once she felt his hand slide between her thighs to assist his mouth, she snapped. Placing her foot on his shoulder, she shoved him away and he landed on his back on the hardwood floor. She hopped off the vanity and shoved him back down just as he sat up, straddling his waist. She leaned down and ran her tongue from his chest to his ear, her hands working at his fly once again.
"Fuck, just rip it, they're cotton!" Gomez grabbed her ass possessively as she did so. His other hand grabbed a fist full of her hair, yanking her head backward to gnaw at her neck. She snarled, grinding on him to evoke a surprised moan from him, this time. While his eyes fluttered shut, his grip on her hair loosened and she took the opportunity to quickly pull his belt from his pants and shove his arms over his head.
"God, you're in a mood!" He snatched the belt in his hands before she could tie it around his wrists and lifted his knee to knock her on her side. As she began to quickly crawl toward the bed, Gomez raised himself to his knees, lifting the belt over his shoulder and slashing it swiftly across her back. She cried, the sting causing her to drop to her stomach. Morticia was used to a whip, but she could admit that it's been a couple months since she felt the sensation. He dropped the belt and lifted her up to where her back was against his front, both on their knees. He pulled her hands behind her back and held her wrists tightly in one hand, the other descending between her legs to finish what he had started.
"I guess we're not going to make it to dinner..." she crooned, eyes shut and tightening at the pleasure he was giving her. Her hands fought to do the same for him, but his grip held firm.
"I plan on skipping breakfast, too." He bent her over but stumbled back as Morticia kicked her leg back, shoving his thigh. As she stood up and hurried toward the bed, he grabbed the end of her robe, tearing it off her shoulders. She gasped and turned to look at him in disbelief.
"That was new!"
"So were my pants." He grabbed the belt and lunged at her, tackling her onto the bed resulting in a shriek from Morticia. Finally, in the exact same position they were in before, she gave in. Kissing him, lustfully, nails raking down his back. He enveloped her entirely, savoring his victory and her taste, lifting her legs around his waist and feeling her body cave against his.
"This is what you wanted all along, hm..." He spoke against her neck while massaging her breasts. She pulled his ear to her lips.
"Please, mon cher..." she whispered. It truly was a victory. He went mad for it. Flipping her onto all fours, he noticed the raw mark on her back where the belt had landed. He licked it, gently.
"Tomorrow, vida mìa... just wear your wedding dress."