The sharp sound of the shears slicing through thick stems filled the heavy air of the conservatory. Blossoms fell with a thud, landing in scattered petals around the tentacle hem of the ebony dress that shrouded their beautiful executioner. Silken petals reached to kiss the pale flesh that held their thorn riddled bodies as they made their descent to the forgotten wood floor. Some succeeded in their quest, caressing her flesh in their first moments of untimely death. Their tender kisses went unnoticed by Morticia, her attention stolen by the sharp bites the thorns were leaving on the pads of her fingers. Bloodless punctures indented her sensitive skin, tempting Morticia with their promise of a moment's pain.
"Beautiful, Cara Mia! Your thorns have never looked so lovely."
The smell of his cigar enveloped her seconds before his arms did. Course hair scratched at her delicate neck, creating a slight irritation that was quickly soothed by his overzealous lips.
"Thank you, darling" she cooed as he continued the exploration of her exposed flesh. In his ardor, he pulled at her delicate waist throwing off her center of balance. As her feet struggled to reclaim their stability, she was pulled against her loving husband. A smile threatened to spread across her lips as she felt his grip tighten around her.
"Darling" her tone warned, but it had no affect on Gomez. His hands roamed across her abdomen until they rested on her hips.
"Gomez darling, let me go. I have to finish trimming the thorns."
He pulled her hips against him, as he breathed in the scent of her hair.
"They can wait, I can't."
Again, his strength manipulated her form, as she moved to keep her balance her grip tightened around the stem in her hand. Delicate streams of warm blood began to trickle down her palm. Morticia put the shears down and patted Gomez's hand.
"Darling"
Defeated, Gomez looked up to find crimson streaking the alabaster of her hand.
"Tish!" He grabbed her injured palm and inspected each tiny puncture. At last, a smile graced her face as she watched his lips absorb each drop of blood. Her other hand delved into his dark, greased hair. Gomez's eyes clouded with darkness at her touch. Morticia's hand traveled from his hair to rest on his strong jaw line.
"Mon Cher"
The pet name was barely more than a husky breath, but it was all the permission Gomez needed. Swiftly, he moved from her palm to the exposed flesh of her wrist, taking his time tasting the raw skin. His adoration of her flesh continued up her sleeve, leaving a trail of warm kisses that penetrated the thin fabric of her dress.
"Tish" he exhaled as he traveled up her neck. "Say something else in French. Anything: Moulin Rouge, escargot, oh la la, Anything!"
"Bien sûr, mon mari chéri"
Groaning in pleasure, he pulled her closer. Their lips met desperately, teeth pulling on the fleshy pouts that were hectically trying to capture one another. Neither noticed the French doors creak open, or an ominous shadow slinking in through the small crack. What few blossoms were left of Morticia's roses began to quake with fear. The lovers were oblivious to the gloom that began to climb the walls, leaving a trail of despair to infect the air. Cleopatra tried to warn her parents by wrapping herself around their legs. They didn't understand, Morticia gave her a soft scolding.
"Now, now Cleopatra. What did mother tell you about playing nice?"
"I know its not the same thing you told me, querida." Gomez quipped before nibbling on her neck.
Cleopatra tried again, squeezing their legs with such force that they were thrust even closer together. Their bodies were seamlessly melded together, Morticia leaning into Gomez's sturdy frame for support. The proximity was driving him wild with desire ; So was the idea of being helplessly bound to Morticia.
"Cleopatra!" Morticia was ready to chastise the African strangler before Gomez's laugh interrupted her.
"I think Cleopatra is telling us something, my dear."
Morticia was confused. Not missing a beat, Gomez's grabbed a fistful of Morticia's hair and gently pulled her head back so that he had full access to her ruby lips. He was suffocating her, his tongue invading her mouth, his nose pressing against hers, and his arms crushing her against him. She clawed at his shirt, the burning in her lungs making her powerless. For just a moment, he pulled away allowing her to catch her breath.
"Unhappy, darling?"
"Oui" she taunted.
With that, he pulled Cleopatra away and lifted Morticia in his arms. Morticia caressed the side of his face as she whispered strings of French adorations into his ear. They reached the stairs just as a dark figure emerged to claim their vacant spot near the roses. Cleopatra shrunk away, hiding behind the hemlock. A broken bloom was lifted into his palm as he fumed at Gomez's triumphant face heading up the stairs.