So I have every intention of making this a chapter story, which I have kind of planned and laid out. It's a bit beyond AU, but passable and in character and is set after AFV.
None of this belongs to me, and there is no infringement intended. Most belongs to the Tee and Charles Addams foundation and Paramount.
She had been in an odd mood before he had left her that morning, but this he did not expect. He watched her watch him, bound only in a full, delicious corset, leather gloves and stockings, touch the instruments on the walls with a fine, leather gloved hand. What he had done to deserve this he really was not sure, all he knew was that it looked like it was going to be damn fun. He struggled against his bonds, dying to reach out and grab her to him. She had been odd of late, saying things that did not suit her, or being tired when it was unusual. He decided though, that for the time being, she was on fine form. He smiled to himself as he watched her wiggle her way across the room.
"Look what I discovered," she turned to him, holding a pair of thumbscrews, he smiled with excitement but she shook her head, "Not subtle enough. I really want to hurt you."
He frowned, for a statement like this was unusual. He shook his head and dispelled the thought from his mind.
Bullwhips and riding crops, he hated - well, love-hated anyway. They were the one thing he couldn't bear to be tortured with; they spent him too quickly but caused him immeasurable pain for hours afterwards. However, tonight she was holding a riding crop like it was the only thing in the entire world that mattered to her - and she seemed to be enjoying it. He smiled at her enthusiasm.
"I wouldn't look so keen," she insisted coldly, coming to stand behind him.
She tightened the painfully tight ropes that grazed his wrists and muttered in his ear, "I could let you go, but I won't."
"Of course you won't," he answered, "Dearest."
"Don't toy, Gomez I am not in the mood."
"It certainly looks to the contrary," he answered, earning himself a swift whack with the riding crop against his back. He lurched forward and cried slightly and his woollen trousers strained tightly against him. She moved away again, this time returning with a leather bullwhip he had bought her in the darkest dungeons of Calcutta. He could only see her shadow played out against the facing bedroom wall in the fire light and in it she looked monstrously delectable. She raised the whip again and brought it down hard against his shoulder. The pain was unimaginable, the pleasure astounding.
"Tish!" She brought it down again and he felt his skin rip under the force. He was almost blind with painful pleasure as he fell to his knees on the bedroom floor.
"God's," he was almost weeping, "Too much my darling."
she brought it down again, "Never too much dear."
He felt the merciful cool of her leather clad hand on his shoulder, pushing him onto his back on the floor. The rough of the floorboards only added to the horrifying pain on his back as she climbed on top of him, relieving him somewhat of his desperation as she ripped his trousers from him and ground unto him. He cried out as she did so, and earned himself a whack with the riding crop across his chest. It left a raw, throbbing welt. She lowered herself to bite his neck, but not enough to break the skin or to stop in her violent momentum.
"Tish, slow down," he pleaded, struggling against his arms that were quickly falling asleep under both of their weight as she moved carelessly, "Let me make love to you."
"Never again," she breathed, leaning forward to rest her weight on his chest. Her nails dug in as both cried out in pleasure and tipped inevitably over the edge. He didn't mean to, it just sort of happened.
She rested herself on his chest, his arms now lacking any circulation at all, which was oddly pleasant.
"What is wrong my love?" He questioned softly, "It would seem you were angry."
"And it is reason I may never make love to you again?" He raised a playful brow.
"I'm pregnant, again" she whispered, "And it's your fault. " If she felt him so at fault it was contradictory of her behaviour, for she lay against him, her head buried in his chest.
"Tish, that is slightly irrational. I have never forced you."
"You might as well have," she sighed with a smile, "I feel better now anyways."
"Since you caused me the most ultimately hedonistic pain?" He laughed and tried in vane to untie his hands.
She nodded, curling against him and ignoring his attempts to remove his bonds.
"Good," he conjectured, "So I am going to be a Father again. Pubert will have a companion?"
"It would seem so," she sighed, pulling him to sit up as she reached around and untied him, "It's just a little soon don't you think. I was just starting to regain myself."
"But you loved post-natal depression."
"Yes," she affirmed as she dropped the ropes to the floor, "But it becomes rather tedious."
"I suppose," he whispered, "But think of the joy. The sleepless nights, the four a.m. feeds…"
She nodded quietly and leaned against him, looking for the sort of comfort only he could give her after such a demonic display. He folded her in his arms while they sat on the floor.
"But that my dear, that was just too much."
"I'm sorry," she whispered, studying her hands that were covered in the blood from his back, "I needed to rid myself of my frustration and on who better than the man I adore?"
"I would just like to have made love to you," he laughed softly, "Not have you exhaust me. But if you feel I am to blame…"
"You are," she watched him stand and then allowed him to assist her to her feet.
"Well that's…" Gomez trailed off as he took a cigar from the box by the bed.
"Well," she smiled oddly as she made her way to the bed and sat beside him, "It's your fault."
"Need I say it takes two to tango?" He questioned, "And need I say that you're partial to begging in the most inappropriate situations in which I cannot control myself."
"You're not being very helpful," she laughed, "You're getting what you want."
"Am I?" He smiled caddishly and pulled her to lie against him, his hand rubbing her smooth abdomen with a kind of reverence she knew well.
"Another Addams can't be that bad," Morticia laughed flippantly, "I do have a thing for them and you did want another child."
"I know you think we're too old-" he began.
"I think you're too old," she answered cruelly but with the air of sweetness that he so adored and he knew she was teasing.
"You'll kill me, dear!" He laughed lightly, "My young wife… Imagine if Wednesday brought a man home and he was 25, I would be very unhappy. To think what your parents must have thought of me…"
"My Father wasn't too pleased," she answered lightly and placed her hand on her stomach, "Imagine, when this child is 5 you will nearly be…oh, you'll be so old….and whoever this child is will think, 'my father is so old and my mother is so wonderfully young…' "
He laughed slightly, "And you'll have to learn to keep that kind of opinion to yourself and anyway, he will be an Addams. More importantly, the child will be a product of our love. I know you really didn't want another child but he will bring love. And you know how much I so adore to be loved."
"I don't think he will be a 'he'," she teased softly, and cuddled into him.
"How far along are you Morticia? You haven't really been dirking enough arsenic, have you? And you've not really been taking care of yourself; you haven't been wearing very many corsets nor doing dangerous things."
"I've been out of sorts," she answered with a frown, "But really, I've had three children before - I think I know what I am doing."
"I know," he kissed the side of her head lovingly, "How far along do you think you are?"
"The night at the Opera," she sighed, regretting her exceptionally wanton behaviour somewhat.
"That far along?" He questioned, with an element of shock.
"I assume so," she smiled, "It's the only night I can attribute it to."
Well, your mother does brew that potion for you, and you obviously disregarded to take it" he teased, "And what about every other night following?"
"You are very persuasive Gomez," she laughed, "What does it matter, it's happened now."
"And we had immense fun making it happen," he cradled her to him, "I've always wanted to hear you scream in ecstasy during the second act of Aida, and get us duly escorted from the box we own…"
"Yes, it was rather fun, wasn't it," she conjectured, resting against him, "Hold me?"
"Always," he tightened his grip on her.
"Maybe you should sleep," he suggested, "You will need it."
"How will we tell the children?" She questioned suddenly, as if it had just occurred to her the magnitude of a fourth child and the reactions of her other three. Pubert was only 2 years old and still needed a lot of her attention, but she was not sure how the older children would react. She had never thought she would have to tackle this.
"We will leave it for a while," he decided resolutely, "Wednesday is trying to sort out colleges…"
"She was so offended that she's skipped a grade," Morticia commented, "But I think it's a good thing, it's disconcerting and thus character building."
He smiled, "You always know what's best."
"Hardly, otherwise I wouldn't be in this situation," she laughed slowly, "If it weren't for you being so damn, infuriatingly attractive during the second act of Aida I wouldn't be here."
He pulled her against him, "For every child we have had you have accused me of this…Wednesday, Pugsley, Pubert and now this little one."
"Do you think she will be ok?"
Gomez looked puzzled, "Who my love?"
"Wednesday. I am anxious about her stepping out into the world of the student soon."
"The worrying this is she'll embrace it, in all its narcotic and illegal glory."
Morticia raised a brow and he quickly amended himself, "Her academics too, obviously."
"You see, this is all the worry we will have to encounter four times over."
"I don't think with my darling son's public criminal record Harvard will accept him," Gomez smiled gently, "How proud I am of him."
"He is a wonderful boy," she nodded, "He has made some lovely friends on that rehabilitation project."
"Indeed he has," he answered, "He's doing very well."
She suddenly felt very tired and felt that, in her delicate condition, she should take great advantage of it.
"You're tired looking love," he mentioned, reaching to extinguish the candle and plunging them into darkness.
"I love you," she whispered, cuddling into his chest.
"I love you too."
"Pregnant?" Pugsley looked positively shocked.
"Close your mouth dear," Morticia advised, flicking her oldest son's chin up with a long finger.
"But… it's so….unexpected," Wednesday looked up, her eyes narrowing slightly as she stared at her parents and measured such a betrayal. She shot a glare at her youngest sibling, Pubert, who was bouncing jovially on his mother's knee and then returned it to her parents.
"You look pleased," Morticia touched her daughter's raven and she shirked away from the affection. She nodded her head, and sullied from the room no doubt to go and brew some sort of poisonous concoction with which to make attempts on her mothers life. Morticia smiled proudly as she watched her daughter's retreating back.
"So," Pugsley stood, still looking confused, "You're really having another child?"
"Yes," Morticia affirmed, "Really."
"Alright," he shrugged, "It would be fun if it had more than two eyes."
Gomez nodded, "Indeed, it would."
Morticia smiled slightly.
Hope you liked it. More to come hopefully.