There was music in the air.
The kind of sound that was defined to melodious perfection. It ignited the soul, aroused the heart, and haunted the mind.
It was very soothing.
Lurch always did have a special way when it came to playing his beloved harpsichord.
He barely uttered a word, but knew every musical note to a Vivaldi; Beethoven, Mozart, and of course - Tango. He knew them all better than any musician did, better than he knew the alphabet (Sort of.).
The music could be heard throughout the large and dismal mansion; echoing all the way down into the freshly excavated tunnels that dear Pugsley had made under the house. The lovely sound could also be heard all the way up to decaying attic, reverberating into the walls, the decade old dust lightly being sifted from their resting place.
It was glorious music! It was as calming as sandpaper. (Best for scrubbing calluses or Uncle Fester's head. His pate never shone a more gleeful radiance since Thing started using sandpaper instead of a steel brush.)
Lurch could play for hours on end. Never even feeling fatigued. The children could play with their dynamite caps all they like, (They already broke the chandelier in the living room five times in the same week. Gomez is finally considering having it insured.) and Lurch would still be in his wonderful world of music. Mrs. Addams found that trait about him very admirable.
Today Gomez was sitting in his favorite chair. The handsome castilian was luxuriously dressed in one of his famous crimson silk dressing robes, he was smoking a fresh stick of his favorite Cuban cigars. (It was a befitting reward to himself, he had actually managed to clear the congestion in his olfactory by taking a short nap - while he was doing his headstand. It does wonders for the respiratory system!)
It was one of those idyllic days. A Sunday to be precise, the scent of fresh rain and cemetery soil in the air. The late morning couldn't have been more perfect.
He listened to Lurch's playing as he took a long drab from his cigar, puffing out smoke rings with his mouth.
A few moments later his beloved wife emerges from the conservatory; her ebony tendrils flowing behind her as she entered the spacious living room. He watched her quietly with a dark desire, as she politely interrupted Lurch's playing and asked him kindly to fetch her a hot cup of henbane.
Morticia then crosses the room to sit in her usual chair, which was of course, situated next to Gomez's.
But surprisingly, before she could reach her chair, she felt a very possessive hand gently grasp her by the wrist.
She knew whose hand it was without even looking.
Morticia could feel the subtle hint of his all consuming strength from his touch. She turned around to face him, their eyes meeting as an amorous smirk tugged at the corner of her red lips.
He grinned seductively at her as he pulled her towards him. He gestured for her to sit on his lap, which of course, she affectionately obliged.
He felt the voluptuous pressure of her weight against his leg. He pulled her closer by the waist till there no long was any space between the expanse of his chest, and her delicate back.
"What a wonderfully restless storm last night Querida." He murmured huskily into her hair.
Morticia leaned deeper into his embrace, breathing a deep sigh of content in his arms. One hand held her firmly by the waist, whilst the other tenderly pushed her silky black hair to one side, allowing him a bountiful access to her ivory neck.
Her voice sounded thick with an almost sinful ardor, "Oh yes, darling. I believe we managed to create our own little hurricane within our boudoir."
She felt his excitement at her last words.
"Tish, that's French." He purred.
Morticia closed her eyes as his soft lips made contact with her exposed skin. The fire within her was beginning to stir as she unconsciously raised her left hand to caress the back of his neck. Gomez grazed his lips against her nape, her scent making him frantic to the point of delirium. He angled her body as he continued his passionate kisses.
He could hear a soft moan of pleasure escape her lips, "Oh, Gomez..."
He could not take anymore! A man could only bear so much.
There was an intimacy in the sound of her breathing, and it caused a tidal wave to wreak havoc inside of him.
"Cara, kiss me," Gomez whispers to her urgently.
He felt her shift in his arms. Morticia turned lightly so that she could face him. Their eyes was clouded with desire as their mingled breaths played against each other; their lips crossing the distance that separated them. Their hearts could be felt pulsating faster, their volcanoes were beginning to erupt.
As their lips were preciously inches away from the taste of unbridled passion, their moment was interrupted by the sound of newly arrived mail.
Somewhere in Italy, an earthquake straightened the famous leaning tower of Pisa.
As Gomez tried to compose himself, out emerged Thing from his box with the mail.
Morticia stretched out a hand to receive the letters, and returned to her position in Gomez's embrace.
"Thank you, Thing." Said Morticia.
Gomez wrapped both hands around her waist as she leaned against him once more.
"Who are they from my dear?" Asked her husband as he rested his chin lightly against her shoulder.
Morticia was opening an azure envelope, with a deep purple colored stamp.
She took out its contents and began to read.
There was a brief silence.
"The poor thing..." Morticia said sadly.
Just as she was about to tell Gomez who the letter was from, Lurch walked in carrying a silver tray with a scalding pot of henbane and two teacups in their saucers. He set it down on the table,
"Your tea, Madam." He croaked in his barely decipherable dialect.
"Thank you Lurch, that will be all." Said Mrs. Addams.
Shortly after their butler had left, Morticia spoke again, "Oh Gomez, I'm so terribly worried about her,"
"About who, love?"
"Dear cousin Melancholia, she sent me this letter." She was still holding the paper and several of the other letters in her other hand.
"Well, what did she say?"
"She's broken off her engagement." Morticia sighed wistfully.
"Again? A bit fickle minded isn't she?"
"Darling, you know how beautiful women can be like. They need to know their options, and they want to know if they are making the right decision."
"That's true Querida. But I don't recall any hesitance from you when I proposed marriage," Said Gomez, a subtle tease in his voice.
She covered his hand with hers, "It was different with us, love." She cooed lowly, Morticia felt his embrace tighten as he pressed a kiss to her earlobe. "I just knew it was fate when I first burned my initials on your shoulder."
Morticia felt Gomez shiver, "Tish' when you speak of such things, it sets my blood ablaze!"
He takes her hand and starts kissing it like a madman. "Gomez, darling. Control yourself," She gently whispered.
It took every ounce of will power to return to his senses, "Alright," He replied unsteadily, taking a shallow breath to calm himself.
Morticia proceeds to open another envelope with a most unusual stamp.
"Darling, I've just received a letter from Uncle Eustece."
Gomez was lightly toying with Morticia's hair distractedly. "What does he say?"
"He says that he adored the sweater I knitted for him, and that the collar area was just a tad bit too tight."
(Morticia used Ox fur as knitting material, they proved to be much more cozier in colder climates.)
"Ah, yes. He does have such a lovely and elongated neck. But that collar area of his can be quite tricky to measure at times without proper tools."
"That's true dear."
"What else does he say?"
Morticia reads till the end of the letter, "He says he's wearing it right now, and finds the abrasive fur to be calming to his nerves."
"That sounds splendid! By the way Cara, didn't you tell me yesterday you were cooking something special for lunch today?"
"Of course darling. But it will be a surprise." Morticia replies with a dark gleam in her eyes.
"Marvelous! I'll tell Lurch to prepare that vintage whiskey I still have in storage in the cellar."
"That sounds absolutely divine, darling. Was it that whiskey you saved after The Great Depression?"
"Querida, how could you forget? It was after The French Revolution!"
"Oh, yes. That was a good year for liqueur."
Morticia neatly sets the letters aside on the table.
"I'll need to help Lurch prepare for a late lunch."
"Of course, my dear."
A/N: Heys guys! Hope you enjoyed the first chapter. This won't be a long Fic, probably around two or three chapters at most. Its because I realized that my storyline in this story just simply can't fit into one one-shot, haha! And yes its still inspired from the 1960s version of The Addams Family. And also it is my first time to be doing a collaboration with another writer in the next chapters. She is an AMAZING Dark Shadows Fanfiction writer - Daryl Wor. You guys should check out her stuff, its pretty awesome. This story we will be collaborating on will have two special guests from the Dark Shadows world. So sit tight and stay tuned!
Updated A/N: Hey guys, due to some technical difficulties, I will have to postpone my collaboration with Dark Shadows writer. But do not worry, there will be plenty of time for us to create something awesome for you guys to read. In the meanwhile you can still have fun with this story, enjoy!