A/N: A thousand apologies for the delay, I have no reason for I have been off for so long and the muse has fled for a nicer realm. But she returned long enough for me to create this little chapter. There is a small amount of smut. Nothing major and give me a heads up on the birthday gifts - do they fit or not? Once again please enjoy :)
They never got any further on that occasion than heated kisses; Pugsley stuck his head in the open grave and called their names. Thankfully he was blithely unaware of his sister's position and he merrily turned back to dilapidated family home.
But that was one occasion, there had been many more since and the lovers lost their virginities to one another at the edge of the swamp.
Gradually Joel knocked down the barriers that remained within the dark girl's head and around her heart; he chipped away at her defences until she found him under her skin and the object of her desire.
"You're right Mama." She said one day as the pair pruned the rose bushes and cared for Cleopatra and her 'children'.
"About?" Morticia turned to her daughter, her face a picture of innocence.
"There is something greater in life than that of torture and murder." Wednesday mirrored her mother's innocent look but now Morticia noticed her eyes burned with a passion when young Mr Glicker slipped into her daughter's thoughts.
Wednesday's 18th was a suitably morbid affair, the cake iced a dark purple, real cobwebs scattered across it, an electric chair carefully moulded from icing by Joel adorned it. She blushed at the sight of it; something that made both her mother and Grandmama smile to themselves and her father begin to worry.
Her presents were also fitting; Pugsley bought her a new hacksaw and mobile vice. Her mother gave her a clipping of Cleopatra that Wednesday named Iracebeth after Alice in Wonderland. Her father had given her the blackened sign of camp Chippewa to his only daughter. Pugsley had chewed off the ear of a teddy and gave her the ear, following his sister in breaking his toys quite beautifully. Grandmama's gift had been a recipe book, one she'd received on her own 18th and added to over the years. Lurch had sewn her a voodoo doll of her blonde classmate Mercedes Ritza. While Fester and Dementia had gathered every piece of knowledge they could find and remember on the Bermuda triangle and made a scrapbook from it. Margaret and Cousin Itt had sent her a brand new shovel and pick axe.
Joel's gift was last and somewhat worried her; she knew the boy had a dark side to rival her own but he was far more modest than she was – he was hardly going to announce their trysts around the Addams' land in the middle of her birthday. Instead he bought her a simple red ring, the faceted stone reflected the roaring fire light and she smiled at the simple gift.
Wednesday never heard her father's frantic whispers to her mother nor did she listen to the soft threats he whispered as he finally realised Joel and Wednesday were more than friends. She zoned out on the smatters of French that her mother used to placate Gomez she focused only on Joel's anxious face. She turned her eyes away from the wrought iron ring towards his face and he saw the passion ignite in her eyes – the soft smouldering look that sent him weak at the knees and hard in the groin. He wanted her family gone so he could make her scream but instead he waited those torturous hours with soft touches and his own heated stare.
Finally, like a true gentleman he offered his arm for her and walked around the graveyard. The pair ignored her Grandmama's snort; Lurch's knowing grunt and her father's slip into his native tongue. They turned away from Morticia's soothing French while she lead her furious husband upstairs with the promise of baise.
When they waited by the shallow graves, her hand slid from his arm to his fingers and they twined the digits together.
"I do not believe we've christened this spot Joel." She said in a soft whisper. The soft brush of her lips against his ear as she stood on her toes to reach him, her nails digging into his arm to steady herself, the slight tensing of her fingers still with his all set his body on alert.
"It's too visible Cara Mia, I think your father will be most upset to see his only daughter against the tree with his lodger." Joel bent down to her lips, locking his free hand around her hips.
"You think I care Mon Cher?"
"My darling, I know you are a dark spirit, but not even you would stoop to necrophilia." He leant his forehead against hers. Her eyes widened, she never thought of her over protective father – in her head she was always the more dangerous to Joel, and the hardest to prove to. But the once weedy little boy had managed it. The father side never entered her head.
"Fine, we won't here, the old willow tree at the edge of the estate will work well for us." She smiled wickedly.
"I have created a monster in introducing you to the world of physical pleasure." Joel rolled his eyes, she was truly insatiable.
It was not as if Gomez would've seen his precious daughter in the shallow graves, Morticia had his manacled to the bed and was wielding her favourite implement before him; he was in heaven.
Wednesday mewled as her lover savagely bit at the porcelain skin of her neck, her nails scratching at his exposed forearms, his suit jacket beneath them, his bow tie also discarded, his shirt unbuttoned while he'd become increasingly dextrous when it came to her corset. He had it down to three and half minutes minutes with sight, seven minutes without. She whimpered as he peeled off the last of her fabric, her skirt gone and her body clad only in soft black negligee's lay before him.
His animalistic fervour had her begging for mercy as he kissed and nipped at the pale expanse of skin before him. But she got her own back, her talon like nails ripped at his skin as he thrust into her.
"Mon cher!" She cried when his lips sought hers, her eyes fluttered closed and it was here that Joel saw the most vulnerable side of Wednesday; at first he'd slowed to admire the innocence but she'd noticed his stare and shuttered her sincere side, so instead he saw only glances as the haze of sexual lust ensnared him. He growled out her name as her hips rose to meet him stroke for stroke, the blood pouring from the scratch marks dripping onto the dirt beside her, his eyes watching every flutter of her lashes, the parting of her lips. He groaned, he was ready but she wasn't. Without warning he slipped his arms around her back and lifted her into his lap, impaling her deeper.
"Wednesday." He whimpered as the feeling changed, knocking him closer to the point. They sat like so, both on the brink yet calming themselves slightly and stared at one another.
"I love you Wednesday Addams." He smiled and rotated his hips making her gasp. "With or without weapons he added cheekily.
"I love you too Joel Glicker." She bent her head to whisper in his ear and clenched her inner muscles, smirking as he let out a low groan.
"Stop torturing me Wednesday." He begged and saw the light dance in her eyes.
"That's the whole fun of the game." Her smile widened. "To torture you." She pressed her lips to his neck, laughing softly as he shivered. "With or without weapons." She bit the skin and rolled him back atop her. "Finish the game Joel." She coaxed and her lover needed no second plea. His growls and moans echoed around the silent swamp and her soft screams let him know that she had stopped torturing him and he spilled himself into her.
As they lay there in a nest of their discarded clothes, his arms around her soft body he let out a soft snicker.
"What?" Wednesday raised her eyebrows, the hard mask of a psychopath back into place.
"I won the game, you let me finish it." He grinned from ear to ear as he heard her snort of disbelief.
A/N: A quickie before I go, shall this be the last chapter or not... decisions decisions?
As for the french... I got through that exam two years ago and never remembered a thing apart from poubelle which is bin! (unhelpful)