Cutting Roses.

A/N: Hey, Addams Fans! I hope you all enjoy this Mortez story. Happy readings!

"Gomez?" Morticia chimed softly, her fingers entwining through the long jet black hair on her left side. She looked up at her husband through hooded and thick lashed eyes, her ruby lips parting ever so slightly. Something was troubling her, everyone could see it, even her children, who were petite and young. She hadn't painted anything for a whole three weeks and the roses went untrimmed, causing them to bloom into large hideous mahogany flowers, which many in the household detested.

"What is it, my dear?" Gomez asked supportively, throwing his fencing sword to the ground and getting to his knee's before her, as he literally worshipped the ground she walked upon. She looked down sadly at her Castilian moustached husband, petting his cheek lightly for a moment before speaking her dark mind.

"Do you think I'm -" A pause passed her scarlet bloody lips as she gulped and stood from the wicker peacock-shaped chair. She had her back to him and a delicate black fingernail resting between her sharp teeth, the rest of her arms folded across her chest. "- Old?" Morticia muttered, glancing over her shoulder in worry.

"Of course not, querida!-" Gomez reassured instantly, his hands wrapping around her waist in an attempt to comfort her deranged mind. "-I desire you as much as I did the day we first met." He muttered against her creamy neck, his nose nuzzling behind her ear, his moustache tickling her milky skin.

"You really mean it?" She smiled contently for the first time in four weeks, her small hand resting against his plain cheek lovingly as he continued to caress her.

"Why, of course! Though, you were starting to remind me of Great Felicia Addams for a moment there." Gomez spoke with a gentle laugh. He stepped slowly away from his beautifully mysterious wife to pick up the distorted sword he had dropped earlier and pressed it into its stand by the large triangular shaped table, one they had recently purchased from Venezuela.

"Oh? And, why is that?" Morticia's face fell slightly at the reference. She remembered Great Felicia Addams very well indeed. It hadn't been long since they'd attended her funeral and what a lovely service it had been. A candle lit grave, an open casket, the moonlight shining down on the guests. A perfect Addams evening.

"Well, she constantly questioned her age." Gomez informed his dear lover, grabbing a cigar from the stand and lighting it with a tap on the door of a wooden box. A hand, then, appeared with a lighter, flicking it, so the flame appeared and set the stick alight. "Thank you, Thing." The man nodded, taking a drag before grabbing Morticia's hand and kissing it passionately. She always seemed to set his soul on fire.

"But, darling, she died when she was twenty five and looked like a rotting plum!" She exclaimed, pulling her hand away from her husbands grasps as she turned to face him fully, a small frown emerging over her soft attractive features.

"Really?" He mumbled in thought, trying to remember that part of his relatives life as he bit on the end of his cigar and ran a hand over his face. Something told him that that comment wasn't going to go down too well.

"Yes, Gomez! Are you saying I remind you of a prune! A rotten plum?" Morticia scolded, her hands coming up in rebellion as she moved past him quickly and flew up the stairs in her skin-tight black dress.

"Cara, of course not!" He called after her. However, she ignored his answer and was gone, locking herself in the playroom with tears in her crystal blue eyes.

A/N: Reviews are like Cleopatra's hamburgers. Very much appreciated and loved.