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More Than Darkness	By : SaMe Category: M through R > Once Upon A Time In Mexico Views: 4591 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the movie that this fanfiction is written for, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-1
- 2-2
- 3-3
- 4-4
- 5-5
- 6-6
- 7-7
- 8-8
- 9-9
- 10-10
- 11-11
- 12-12
- 13-13
- 14-14
- 15-15
- 16-16
- 17-17
- 18-18
- 19-19
- 20-20
- 21-21
- 22-22
- 23-23
- 24-24
- 25-25
- 26-26
- 27-27
- 28-28
- 29-29
- 30-30
- 31-31
- 32-32
- 33-33
- 34-34
- 35-35
- 36-36
- 37-37
- 38-38
- 39-39
- 40-40
- 41-41
- 42-42
- 43-43
- 44-44
- 45-45
- 46-46
- 47-47
- 48-48
- 49-49
- 50-50
- 51-51
- 52-52
- 53-53
- 54-54
- 55-55
- 56-56
- 57-57
- 58-58
- 59-59
- 60-60
- 61-61
- 62-62
- 63-63
- 64-64
- 65-65
- 66-66
- 67-67
- 68-68
- 69-69
- 70-70
- 71-71
- 72-72
- 73-73
- 74-74
- 75-75
- 76-76
- 77-77
- 78-78
- 79-79
- 80-80
- 81-81
- 82-82
- 83-83
- 84-84
- 85-85
- 86-86
- 87-87
- 88-88
- 89-89
- 45
- 46
- 47
There was no pie in the oven when Sands got home. Instead, his wife was sound asleep on the
couch with the TV on and a cat sleeping on her back.
Sands stopped in
front of her sleeping form for a long moment with a smile on his face before
doing two things: first, he turned off the television and set his bags down.
Second, he shooed Agatha away and leaned down to kiss the back of Aida's neck.
"I don't like
dogs," she murmured, shifting under his lips.
"Well, then
it's good we don't have any then, spitfire," Sands said with a smile.
"Oh...Sands. I thought... Never mind." In her state of half-awareness, his kiss had
resembled that of a canine, but it was best that he didn't know that.
"It's good to
see you again too, spitfire," he said with a bit of a smirk before setting
down the bags he carried and lifting her legs a little so that he could sit on
the couch before bringing her legs back down to rest on his lap.
Having her legs
elevated while she was on her stomach put uncomfortable amounts of pressure on
Aida's hips, so she rolled over. "I
really did mean to make a pie," were the first words out of her
mouth. "I just got...tired."
"Don't worry
about it, Aida. You're more important than pie hands down," he said with a
smile.
She smiled. "You're such a sweet-talker."
"You betcha.
And I'm also a man who likes to spoil his wife. What are you going to do?"
he said with a smirk.
"Become an
absolute shrew because you did too good a job of spoiling me, and then you'll
be sorry?"
"I very much
doubt you will turn into an 'absolute shrew,' Aida," Sands said wryly.
"Even so. That's not going to stop me from spoiling you."
"You say that
now. We'll see what happens when I start
moping and pouting and ignoring you for the most minor of offences."
"I don't
believe that would happen. And even if it did, I wouldn't let you do that. I
can be very persuasive, wife mine."
"That's the
problem. I would start expecting certain
sorts of persuasion, and within a few years, you might actually have to find a job." Her words teased him, just as her smile did.
"If I really
wanted a job, I would have gotten one by now. I certainly had enough
schooling," he muttered.
"Well, just
think about that before you start an expensive habit that you might have to
work to keep up. So what's in the
bags?"
"All my habits
are expensive," he murmured with a smirk before casting a casual glance to
the bags. "I'm not so sure I should tell you now. You made a big deal of
me not spoiling you."
"Alright. I'm not so curious that I'll die if you take
everything back without telling me."
She was actually really curious, but she figured the best way to get the
information she wanted was to feign non-interest.
"I never take
anything back. Too much hassle," he said offhandedly.
"Then I'm not
so curious that I'll beg you tell me. On
the scale of what's important in life, bags aren't very high up."
Sands made a sound
of irritation. "It's what's in
the bags that's important, Aida. And you're not playing fair."
"You're
telling me that what's outside the bags are important?" she asked lightly,
ignoring his accusation. "Because
those are your only two choices: inside and outside."
"Just open the
bags, Aida."
"I can't reach
them," she said innocently, looking at him with big eyes.
Sands sighed and
leaned over her legs to grab the bags at her feat and thrust them in her
direction. "Enjoy, Aida," he said with a small smile.
Taking the heaviest
bag first, Aida tilted it forward so she could look inside. A grin - that Sands couldn't see due to the
bag - lit her face and she immediately pulled out the items. They were pajamas, completely innocent, and
completely made of silk.
"I'll have to
change," she murmured, setting the bag on the ground. "Thank you. Now I'll feel better about not getting
dressed in the mornings."
"Open the
other bag, Aida," he directed her softly. "I'm glad you like the
pajamas."
"See? Spoiling," she murmured even as she did
was she was told.
The second bag was
smaller, and when Aida looked inside, she saw a long, black velvet box. "No.
Oh, no," she said, trying to hand the bag back. "I'm serious about not wanting to be
spoiled, Sands. All I've ever asked for
is enough to survive, and you've given that more generously than I could have
ever imagined, but expensive jewelery is just too much. If it were actually my birthday, or
Christmas, that would be one thing, but it's not."
Sands shook his
head in mild exasperation. "It is
your birthday, Aida. Or it will be in a few days. If there has to be a reason
behind every gift I give you then how about this� Consider each gift a birthday
present for a birthday I was unable to attend."
"You don't
understand," she said. "Gifts
. . . gifts have always been practical.
I've never been well-off enough for them to be anything else. Pajamas are practical, jewelry is not. Jewelry is extravagant. You're overwhelming me," she said
softly.
"Why does
everything have to be fucking practical? Aida, that's the point of gift-giving.
That's it's impractical. That there's
no other reason behind it than simply the spirit of the moment. Why won't you
let me do this for you? I like giving
you things," he said with a sigh.
"You don't
understand how I can love talking to you, and I can't understand how you can
spend so much on me," she murmured, meeting his eyes. "They're the equivalent to each other,
aren't they? My words are worth this to
you, so you want to reciprocate the way I maku feu feel."
"Maybe,"
Sands admitted with a slight shrug. "It's just�I have money, Aida. You
know I do. I have a lot of it. I even have a few impersonal investments around
the world that make me even more
money. And yet, it's all pointless. Money is worthless if you have nothing or
no one to spend it on, Aida. Money doesn't bring me happiness. It never has and
it never will. But I have it and there's no changing that. At least let me do
these things from time to time for you. Because honestly, there's nothing else
I would rather spend any of my money on than you," he murmured softy.
"Alright. I still say paying all my medical bills is
enough to spend on me, but I won't complain I suppose. Unless you start buying me silly things like
fur coats, which I will never, ever wear."
"Fur's only
good for lining in the winter which we won't really have to worry about here.
Anything else is tacky," he said with a slightly disgusted face.
"Does that mean that you'll open the box now, Aida? I promise it's not a
fur coat."
She stuck her
tongue out at him, and opened the box, although not without some
trepidation. When she saw that it was a
simple obsidian pendant on a silver chain, she laughed in relief. If it had been a chain of diamonds, she would
have had to say something, promises
to let him spend insane amounts of money on her or not. "It's lovely."
Sands gave her a
bright smile. "I'm glad you like it, spitfire," he said softly.
"But�if you really don't like-want
me to be spending money on you, it's ok. I won't if that's what you want."
"I wanhatehatever will make you the happiest," she replied, moving around on the
couch until she was leaning against him.
"I just ask that you don't buy me totally useless items unless I specifically ask or hint that I want
them."
"What do you
mean by totally useless?"
"Umm . . . I
can't think of anything at the moment, but that's probably because all the
totally useless things I can think of aren't that expensive. However, if you happen to want to buy me
something that you think would fit my criteria, ask before purchasing it,
otherwise you will be taking it back."
Sands sighed.
"But then there's no surprise. Never mind. Alright. I'll keep that in
mind, Aida."
"Thank
you." She kissed his cheek. "You just need to remember that this
kind of lifestyle is still new to me.
The kind of things you casually buy on a whim are the type of things I
can to scrimp to save at second-hand stores."
"You're
welcome. I will," he said with a small half-smile. "I'm sorry. I didn't
mean to overwhelm you. This lifestyle, as you call it, is all I've ever
known."
"I know. But as you've said, it never made you happy,
and these things don't make me happy. "You drive a
hard bargain. Alright fine. I cheated. It was your king. But I was still
winning before that!"
"Were
not."
"Were
too."
"Were
not."
Sands had been
about to respond with yet another assurance of the victory he had had in hand
when the phone rang. "Do you want me to get that?" he said, moving to
just incase she said yes.
"I don't want
to move," she grinned. That was his
punishment for cheating and lying
about cheating, and be so
self-assured.
"Fine,"
he murmured moving to get the phone and bringing it back with him to the couch
before answering it. It was probably a fucking telemarketer. "Hello?"
"Hello, may I
speak to my daughter-wait, this isn't�Sands is it?" Mrs. Grant asked
hopefully.
&qum�&qm�"
Fuck. He was caught. "Yes it is, Mrs. Grant," he answered, sending
Aida a slight glare.
"Oh cut out
the Mrs. Grant stuff. If you're my son-in-law the least you can do is call me
Susan. Even if we haven't met face to face yet." From the way Susan Grant
phrased this, she was practically ordering Sands to do something to change this
fact soon.
"Yes ma'am. I
mean, Susan," Sands said, feeling a bit flustered.
Aida smiled and
shook her head, only imagining what tone her mother was using to get her
husband to respond in such a way.
Whatever it was though, he'd probably feel more comfortable by her, or
at least she w.pitiable excuses for parents."
"Aren't we all?" he murmured with a
small smile.
"Yeah, but I'm
unreasonably excitable. I can't even
remember how we got onto this topic."
"Then don't
try. Just go back to relaxing."
"Well...then l mel me another story. Tell me when you
first realized you had fallen madly in love with the tall, mysterious, brunette
who walked into your life out of the blue."
"I won't lie
to you, it didn't happen right away. I didn't know love then." He paused
and took a moment to collect his thoughts. "It was in Vegas. I wasn't
quite 'in love' then, but I knew that I carer yor you. I knew that because I
didn't want to hurt you."
"We were in
Vegas for awhile, lover. You're going to
have to be more specific."
"It was in the
bathtub, ironically. You told me that you were sore from all of our frenzied,
all caution thrown to the wind, marathon sex session," he allowed himself
a slight smirk at this. "And I remembered that I felt bad that I had hurt
you and that I didn't want to do it again. I cared about you."
She smiled softly
and let the water relax her again.
"I remember that. But you
said that's when you started to care for me.
When did you full-out decide you loved me?"
"After."
He cleared his throat. "After I tried to kill you. You were willing to
give me anything and everything. You forgave me even after all of that. You
still loved me and I was...overwhelmed. I couldn't imagine life without you
after that and I didn't want to. I only wanted to love and to be loved,"
he winced a little at the sappiness in his tone, but didn't comment on it.
if you actually manage to hold out.
Whou dou decide you're ready for me to put you out of your misery
though, all you have to do is come into the room, and close those ever so
functional restraints around your wrists.
And I shall then put you out of your misery at my leisure."
Jeffrey hesitated
at that, not really liking the options, but then he reminded himself that he
had nothing to worry about because he was not
going to lose. "Deal."
"Promise
me," she said. If he promised, then
he'd have no other choice than to follow through when he lost.
Fuck. I should have known she was going to
ask for this. No, wait you're going to win. Stop your whining. "I
promise, vixen."
"Alright
then." She kissed the crook of his
neck. "The bet." Kiss.
"Starts." Kiss. "Now."
"What happened
to you're relaxation and no action rules, vixen?" he asked wryly, pushing
down the sudden instinct to respond to his wife's attentions.
"I am
relaxed." After a quick, nibbling
kiss on his earlobe, she once again returned her head to his shoulder.
"Good. I'm
glad. I want you to be, vixen," he said, placing a soft kiss on the top of
her head again. He wasn't really in the mood to tease at the moment. He
honestly wasn't in the mood with the knowledge that he couldn't take it further
than that. For now he was content to just keep on holding her as he had been
before.
"Have I ever
mentioned how much I love being held by you?" she murmured, settling
herself more comfortably against him.
"No, but
that's ok. I love holding you, vixen so it all works out just fine," he
said with a gentle smile.
"Don't you
want to know why I enjoy it so
much?" Her voice was evil.
"Why don't you
tell me, vixen," he asked, struggling to keep his composure at her tone. She's definitely up to something�
"I like
feeling you so tight against me, so strong, so much harder than I am. It makes
me feel feminine and safe."
Jeffrey smirked at
the well-timed emphasis in her tone. "You're incredibly devious and I love
you for it, vixen. But you're not going to win that easy."
"Oh, I don't
expect to win in an hour. No, satisfaction will only come after
hours...and hours...and hours...of hard, intense work."
"Sounds
exhausting to me. All I want to do is relax," he drawled, leaning back
against the rim of the tub and sinking a little deeper into the still slightly
warm water.
"Show me where
you got shot?" she asked suddenly, seemingly giving up her tactics for the
moment.
"Why? It's in
the past, vixen. It's just another scar."
"I've never
noticed it before. Please show me?"
Jeffrey sighed but
nodded. "Move back a little." When she did, he lifted himself out of
the tub just enough so that he could show her where he had gotten shot those
many months ago. "Right here," he murmured, running a finger along
the patch of raised flesh directly beneath his ribcage and just a little right
off center. "Took a nice chunk out of my liver, but I was fine
otherwise."
Salida cocked her
head and looked at it, unsure of how she'd ever missed it. True, she'd been hoping it was a bit lower
simply for the sake of driving her husband mad with lust, but it truly wasn't a
laughing matter. It was an ugly reminder
of how close he'd come to not being here now.
"It's nothing
really. The scar's barely even noticeable and my liver's fine. I'm fine. The
doctor's did their jobs, I must admit, but I'd rather just forget about all of
it."
"Alright,"
she said softly, suddenly a bit subdued.
"I'm really
fine, Salida. There was never a question of me not being so," he tried to
reassure her, not liking the tone her voice had taken.
"There's
always that question whenever anyone gets shot.
You should know that," she murmured, moving back so he could once
more relax.
Jeffrey shrugged as
he slid back beneath the water. "I'm not trying to be cavalier about the
whole thing, but really I was more worried about being caught than I ever was
about being shot, vixen."
"I know. I understand.
It's just that as your wife, as long as you're alive, there's a chance of
escape."
"I know,
vixen," he said with a fond smile, unbelievably proud of the fact that she
would bust him out of jail if need be. It made him feel kind of like Clyde
to her Bonnie, although he would never be stupid enough to get caught like they
had been.
She sighed and
stood as the water grew cool, leaving her husbands face almost level with the
juncture of her thighs. "Getting
up, lover?"
Fuck, she's wicked. Be strong, Jeffrey. You
can do this. "Yeah, I'd probably better. Wouldn't want to catch a
chill," he drawled with a smirk as he stood and moved out of the tub. As
he handed her a towel and got one for himself he made a face. "Tell me
straight. Do I smell like a walking flower shop?"
"No,
absolutely not." She didn't quite
manage to keep her face straight.
"You're lying,
but you know what? I don't care. I don't want to take another shower now. I'll
turn into a fucking prune," he muttered, looking down at his wrinkled
fingertips with a snort of irritation.
"Good,"
she murmured, dropping her towel so she could wrap her arms around him. His towel was the only thing between them,
and it was only between their lower halves.
"I like it when you smell like me."
"Likewise,
vixen," he murmured, placing a gentle kiss on the underside of jaw before
extracting himself from her embrace. "Would you like to go out to eat
tonight, vixen?"
"No. I think I'm going to have cold Chinese and
eat that cake. Care to join me?"
"Sure,"
he said with a nonchalant shrug. "I could eat" He bent over and
gathered up his shed clothes in his arms. He didn't feel like getting dressed
though. It wasn't lust to take things further with his wife while in that
state, he wasn't losing that bet, more like laziness.
"Alright. I'm going to grab my robe. And put something on in case Grant is
downstairs, would you?"
Jeffrey sighed.
"Alright, fine," he muttered, moving into their bedroom and dropping
the pile of clothes onto the bed before using the towel to dry the water from
his naked skin and getting dressed. He didn't bother with socks and shoes, and
he didn't button his shirt all the way, but he was dressed at least.
"Satisfied?" he asked his wife, holding his arms out at his sides for
her to take in his fully dressed state.
"That you're
covered? Yes. That you're not going to shock anyone? No."
She took his hand and they walked downstairs together.
"What do you
mean about shocking anyone? There's no one around to shock, vixen. I know
everyone here. And I'd think you'd know me well enough by now not to be
shocked," he murmured as they descended the stairs.
"Well, I'm not
shocked by much, but I don't know about Grant.
Her sensibilities might be more delicate."
"Maybe. I
guess I've never thought about it."
"Something
tells me there's a lot of things you never think about," she teased
wickedly, digging through the fridge to gather all the boxes she wanted.
"Like what,
vixen?" he asked with a raised eyebrow, moving past her to get his own
leftovers from yesterday that had gone uneaten even after he had received them.
"Like just how
undeniably sexy your wife is and how easily she's going to win the bet."
"I have no
doubt in my mind that you were undeniably sexy, but you aren't going to win
that bet. Sorry to disappoint," he murmured as he transferred the contents
of the box he had grabbed to a plate.
"Jeffrey,
what's the first thing that comes to mind when I say, 'bed'?"
"Why?" he
asked warily, waiting for her to finish using the microwave so that he could
heat up his own dinner.
"Just answer
the question. I'm not trying to trap you
or anything."
"Spread. And
sleeping." With you. He didn't
mention that part.
"Alright. Hboutbout skin?"
&quolk.&lk."
Sweat?"
"Sex."
The word popped out of his mouth before he could stop it and it left him
feeling caught despite what she had said earlier.
"Shower?"
"Steam."
"Steam?"
"Sex," he
grumbled, growing annoyed with this game.
"Wife?"
"Love."
"Love?" This was ever so much fun.
"Cupid."
She slanted a look
at him as if she didn't quite believe him.
"Energetic."
"Exercise."
"Exercise?"
"Sweat,"
he said with a bit of a snort.
"Sweat?"
she asked, already knowing what the answer would be. And that it would prove her point.
"You asked
that one already," he murmured upon seeing her smugness, turning to put
his dinner in the microwave and set the timer before turning back to her.
"Alright, so I
did. Which means, all your thoughts
eventually lead back to sex." She
drew the word out. "Which proves my
point."
"It proves
nothing," Jeffrey muttered, taking his plate out of the microwave and
moving to sit at the table.
"I say that at
the very least, it proves that you've got a dirty mind." After grabbing a bottle of decaffeinated iced
tea, she joined him at the table.
"I already
knew that, vixen," he murmured, transferring a forkful of noodles from his
plate to his mouth and chewing slowly.
"But your mind
is dirtier tminemine, so it'll be easier for me to win."
"Why? How does
that make any difference whatsoever?" he asked before eating more noodles.
"It means I'll
have an easier time planning strategy."
"If you say
so," he murmured, methodically twisting more noodles to his fork and
eating them.
"Trying to
focus on other things isn't going to help you," she grinned,
"especially since you can probably remember sitting in that chair as I
ducked under the table and -"
"Don't. If you
were so convinced that you were going to win you wouldn't be playing dirty like
this."
"How am I
playing dirty? These are things we've
always been open to talking about."
"Fine. You're
right. I like to tease as much as you do. It's fun. I enjoy it. I won't deny
it."
"So teasing is
part of our everyday life, and is therefore not off limits."
Jeffrey nodded,
keeping his focus on cleaning his plate. He felt like he hadn't eaten since
yesterday, which under the circumstances was probably accurate.
"Of course, if
you want to reconsider -"
He shook his head.
"Not going to get me that easily," he murmured.
"No, when I
get you, you'll be hard."
He looked up at her
at the comment and shook his head with a laugh. "Of that I have no doubt,
vixen."
"Of course,
it'll be my prerogative whether or not to let you off easily. I suppose it all has to do with how long you
make me wait."
"I suppose so,
vixen," he said casually, taking a few more bites of his dinner.
"Would you
like me to stop?"
"Why would you
stop? I don't really mind. It's keeping me entertained," he said with a
smirk.
"Oh, and
that's my purpose in life," she muttered, taking a bite of food.
"For the
moment. But you're the one who started the teasing, vixen. Not me."
Without replying,
she simply took another bite of her food.
"I'm sorry,
vixen. I didn't mean to upset you," he said with a slight sigh, laying his
fork down on his near-empty plate.
She kept her mouth
shut, wondering how far he'd take his apologizing, and whether or not she could
use it to her advantage.
Jeffrey sighed and
rose from his seat to put his plate in the kitchen to deal with later before
returning to his seat. "I'm sorry," he said again.
Salida pretended to
sniff.
Aw fuck. "Don't cry, vixen. I'm
sorry. I'm a bas-er, a jerk for saying that. You have purpose," he got up
and moved to sit at her side, not knowing if she would want him in such close
proximity or not.
Before he could
move away, she slid off the chair and into his lap, making sure to rub against
him as she did.
- 45
- 46
- 47
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More Than Darkness