Amantes y enemigos
disclaimer : i do not own the scarface universe or anything in it. but i congratulate oliver stone and brian depalma for that.
Part 2 : Pillow Talk
foreword : just as the title implies... pillow talk. a little tony/elvira fluff before the storm because i can!
The musk of sex hung heavy around them, the sheets were sweaty and warm. She looked up at Tony, his eyes were closed, a cigar hanging dumbly out of his mouth.
"Fuck, that was good." was all he muttered.
She tucked herself into the crook of his arm, resting her head on the side of his chest.
"Tony, when are you going up there, to New York?"
"I dunno, a week I guess."
"Tony... I'm scared."
He looked down at her, "What of?"
She sighed, "If you go to jail, you know, me all alone in this house. Five years, Tony. That's a damn long time." a pause, "I just don't... I'm worried about you. I can feel it, Tony, you need to watch out."
"Don't be scared for me, pussycat," he rolled to his side, swinging his arm around her, "It'll work out. I always watch out."
Elvira touched his bicep tenderly, "I'm going to lose you."
"Oh, c'mon, you ain't gonna lose me. Even if you did, you a lovely lady, you'd find a new man and forget about me."
"Don't say that." she rested her head against his chest, "You're my husband. I wouldn't do that. And I hope you wouldn't do it to me."
"Nah, I wouldn't, baby," he eased his other arm underneath her torso and pulled her into his arms, squeezing tightly, "I wouldn't. You my number one lady."
Elvira stared at the ceiling, her hand still on his arm.
"Tony?"
There was no answer. He was already asleep.
She decided to join him. For the first time in months, since those fleeting happy weeks shortly after their marriage, she fell asleep in his arms, content.
In that strange area of consciousness between sleeping and awakeness, a memory stirred in the lonely corner of Elvira's mind. It was of a dimly lit hotel room in Paris, the same one they had visited on their vacation in Europe not long ago.
"Elivra, you remember what I told you at the pool?"
The pool. How could she forget. Him proclaiming his everlasting love and desire to sire offspring when all along she thought he was just some horny bastard.
"Sure I do, Tony." she said, taking another sip of her congnac.
He slipped behind her, his arms encircling her, "Elvira, I want to make a baby tonight."
Elvira was surprised by his sudden request, but then again knew she shouldn't have been, if anything he was blunt.
"Tonight? Why, is there an urgent reason?"
"No, no, but we ain't getting any younger now, are we? C'mon, a little baby, don't you want that?"
His hands moved over her lower abdomen, curving his palm over the tiny mound.
"You know pussycat," he husked into her ear, "the thought of you pregnant with my child is the sexiest thought I've ever had."
A jolt of desire struck through her body as she felt how close he was, his voice right in her ear.
"Tony... Jesus," she said, trying to move away from him and the sudden rush of feelings.
"Your belly all big, my baby inside you; you'd be so beautiful, baby." he was grinning, "And then, our little girl would be born, and she would be just as beautiful as you."
"Our little girl?"
"Yeah, you know, a little girl. She would be the light of my life," Tony kissed her neck and his hand still held protectively over her stomach, "I would give that baby everything in the world, you know. I would want her to have everything I never had growing up. I would want her to have a Papa who's there for her, who loves her."
Elvira frowned, that was near impossible. She could just imagine a sad little raven haired girl being led by the hand to a foster home, Sorry, honey, but Mommy's in rehab and Daddy's doing life. She could see a tearful parting as they ripped her child from her arms, and stamping a big red 'Unfit Parent' onto their case file. She could see that little girl growing up alone, and turning to all the same things her mother had turned to in those times of need. Another girl in the arms of a drug lord, another girl relying on cocaine, another girl with nothing to live for.
She tried to brush those thoughts out of her mind, she would go mad if she gave it one more thought. "What would we name her?" she asked, imagining a tiny pink bundle being shoved into her arms.
"Elvira, or Gina. Or Elvira Gina Hancock-Montana."
Elvira chuckled, "And what if it was a boy?"
"Ah," Tony nuzzled her neck before he continued, "Antonio Montana the III."
"The third?."
"Yeah, I'm a junior you know," he spun her around and kissed her cheeks, "Well, actually no. My Papa was Antonio Montana y Ortega. I'm Antonio Montana y Mendez, but it's all the same. At least the III sounds more dignified than 'junior'. Imagine all the girls swooning when they ask him his name and he says, 'Antonio Montana the III.'"
"That's rather silly."
"Well it's better than saying, 'Junior', no?"
"I suppose."
He kissed her then, hard but tender, and she gave herself over to his every desire. Every touch, kiss and thrust was given as he begged for it, and every moan and sigh erupted from her as it was elicited by him.
They fell against the sheets, her hand toying with the soft hair on his chest.
"Tony, you know," she paused, "when you," she stopped, afraid of choking up, "When you said that at the pool, it was the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me."
He chuckled, "Oh my lovely little lady, I could've been sweeter, but it seems more often vinegar turns you on."
Elvira smiled, "Yeah, I guess so."
Only hours after she had fallen into a deep satisfied sleep he roused her again with his lips and hands, and had her again, much to her delight.
That night was one of the best nights she had with Tony. That she could not deny, and she knew that every night from that night on was going to be compared, and everything would be pale in comparison. In those first months they copulated countless times, Tony's neverending desire surprised Elvira, he was after all on cocaine 75 percent of the time, and Frank always had problems because of that. But not Tony, ruthless, bullheaded Tony. Cocaine wasn't going to stop him from fucking his wife.
It was all much fun for them, but no child was conceived on that night, or any night thereafter.
Elvira shot up in bed, startled by the dream. It was apparent why she had dreamt of that night. That was the last meaningful night with Tony, anyway. She turned to reach for him. He was out cold, sprawled accross the bed on his stomach, the silk sheet covering him from the waist down. Taking the bottle of whiskey off the bedside table she took a few swigs thinking more about their situation.
As days went on Tony grew a little more tired and Elvira got a little more addicted. 8 months went by since their marriage. Tony got more money, but he wasn't happy anymore. Elvira could see that plainly. She wasn't either. A part of her felt dead watching him turn colder and colder, losing his grip on reality. He was King Midas, in his own little world where everything he touched could turn to gold. Elvira was fearing that day she would finally turn to gold, the day Tony was going to be screaming like a madman realizing he'd turned the woman he loved into nothing but cold, hard stone.
She didn't want to be stone. She didn't want to be this way. Every time she felt her heart stiffen she would seek out his embrace, only to find him at his desk and unreachable. There was no point. Tony was gone, he was gone long ago.
She finally laid back down, willing herself into a shallow, dreamless sleep until morning broke.
up next : the final three chapters
