He Came

J Ecris

Chapter One

He came to her in the night.

He came to her, not in his dreams, nor in hers, but in reality. He came to her, his desire having finally overwhelmed his long-practiced control, her desire ever calling to him through the Bond, until he could bear it no longer. He did not hesitate on her balcony, but immediately entered her bedroom.

Their relationship ought to have been consummated long ago; they had waited too long, and neither of them could break the pattern they had fallen into. But the beast had been growing stronger, and tonight he had finally triumphed over the man. He would break the pattern. He came to her in haste, unable to wait any longer.

A low growl filled his throat as he unfastened his fly, leaning over Catherine’s sleeping form. He uncovered her, nuzzling her neck with his nose. She moaned and softly murmured his name as he blended seamlessly into her dream images. He shredded her nightgown with one swipe of his claws. Catherine awoke, confused but still overwhelmed by desire. "Vincent?" she queried.

She was answered only by a growl. He turned her on her belly, pulling her hips to his own at the edge of the bed. Still bewildered by the abrupt waking from her dream, Catherine’s heart beat wildly, reality seemingly having picked up where the dream left off. She gasped as she felt his attempts at penetration, pressing her hips back and up and groaning. She cried out as he filled her body. They coupled hard and long, as both needed, each thrust eliciting increasingly louder and more forceful vocalizations, he burying himself more and more deeply inside her, she pressing her hips into him with all the strength of her body. Their shared completion was deafening, and Catherine collapsed in exhaustion.

***

She awoke before the alarm, instantly remembering the delicious events of the previous night, and breathed, "Oh god." She took a deep breath and glanced around, hoping to find Vincent, but he was gone. She wondered only for the tiniest fraction of a second if it might have been a dream; the deep feeling of satisfaction that permeated her body and soul indicated otherwise, and the slightly tender feeling and lingering wetness of her vulva were proof positive. She sighed, reviewing the details in her mind. She moaned, wanting him again.

She reached for the phone, dialing Joe’s office number. Relieved that she reached the machine instead of him—it wouldn’t argue—she spoke quickly, "Hi Joe, it’s Cathy. I don’t think I’ll be in today. I have some important personal business to take care of. Sorry for the late notice. Bye."

She got up to shower, hesitating at the last moment, reluctant to wash Vincent from her body. But then she reminded herself, if memory served, that there would be a damp reminder of him for the rest of the day. She took a long, hot shower, luxuriating in the pleasant streams of water. She fixed her hair and began to dress, all the while suppressing her feelings as best she could, in order to surprise Vincent. Before going out, she had a quick breakfast; if she got her way, she’d need energy.

She went Below, still trying to keep her feelings quiet, and asked the sentry not to announce her arrival. She proceeded to Vincent’s chamber, where she found him in the middle of a literature lesson. Damn!

Now, now, she scolded herself, you can’t expect him to drop everything every time you show up. He has his responsibilities too. She waited as patiently as possible outside the door, still trying to keep her presence hidden, although she guessed he’d probably figured it out by now. Finally, finally the class ended, and she chose that moment to enter Vincent’s chamber, hoping her presence would encourage the students to leave quickly.

"Catherine," Vincent said softly, "This is an unexpected pleasure."

With fresh desire, she replied mischievously, "Just returning the favor." Vincent looked somewhat puzzled. Catherine devoured his body with her eyes while she waited for the young tunnel dwellers to leave. Vincent began to look alarmed, but so caught was Catherine in her own feelings, that she didn’t notice. She threw herself into his arms as soon as the last student was through the doorway.

"Catherine," Vincent breathed, overwhelmed by her feelings and struggling to maintain control. "Are you all right?"

She smiled up at him, positively glowing. "I’m much better than all right," she whispered. She reached up to kiss him, but stopped when his eyes grew wide and he pulled back slightly. "Vincent," she said uncertainly, her smile dissolving as she moved her hands from his back to his chest. "Are you all right?"

He took a half step back and nodded. "I am... quite well."

She had a bad feeling about this. She gazed intently into his eyes.

"Did you take the day off from work, Catherine?" he asked mildly. She nodded absently, still staring at him. A silence fell between them.

"Vincent..." she began. She took a deep breath, and not knowing what to say, exhaled in frustration.

"Tell me," he prodded gently.

She stared at him again. "Vincent..." she asked hesitantly, "are you ok with what happened last night?"

"Last night?" He thought about the evening spent reading on her balcony and looked at her blankly. "We read—"

"After the reading, Vincent," she interrupted.

"You fell asleep..." he supplied.

"After that. Hours later."

Vincent remained silent, and it became clear to Catherine that he did not remember. She sighed, gazing into the sensual innocence of his face, and wondered whether it was a good idea to tell him.

"I’m sorry, Catherine. I don’t...." Vincent shook his head. "What happened?" he whispered.

She searched for the appropriate words and found none.

She could not bring herself to tell him. She dropped her eyes, trying to think of a way to put things right. She made a deliberate effort to calm herself, smiling as she looked back up. She shook her head. "I guess it was a dream. It seemed so real. Never mind, Vincent. It's not important."

Vincent continued to look at her with concern. "Are you certain everything's all right, Catherine?"

She smiled again and nodded, "Mm-hmm." She paused. "But I did miss you." She stepped toward him. Vincent smiled serenely, tilted his head, and opened his arms. She melted into them, wrapping her arms tightly about him. Her feelings took an almost immediate turn toward the erotic, and she realized she could not stay and keep her feelings in check. She bid Vincent goodbye and headed for work, where her never-empty inbox would distract her properly.

***

She arrived home that evening quite late and thoroughly exhausted. A familiar tapping on the glass lifted her spirits, even in light of the ambiguity that now stood between them. She opened the balcony doors and inserted herself into Vincent's waiting arms. His touch was always a comfort.

"Catherine."

The tension began to ease from her body. She sighed. "Vincent."

"I felt your unrest, Catherine." She nodded against his chest. "You work too hard."

She sighed, still not knowing what to say to him or whether to keep her silence. "Just hold me, Vincent." He pressed his mouth to her hair and complied. She relaxed more deeply, and as she did, she began to become aware of his body, large and firm. She'd had no opportunity to touch him the night before, well... at least not with her hands. She moaned softly as the details of the previous night’s tryst washed over her. Instinctively she tried to suppress those feelings. "Vincent," she whispered, "you always seem to know what I need."

Vincent, of course, was aware of the direction her feelings had drifted, and thought it best they part. "Catherine, you're exhausted. You should sleep."

That was not what she'd wanted him to suggest, but she realized he was nevertheless right. She yawned in spite of herself and opened her eyes to realize it had begun to rain.

"Good night, Catherine." He released her from his arms.

She kept her eyes on his for another moment, searching for any indication that he remembered the events of the previous night. Nada. "Good night, Vincent," she said reluctantly.

Catherine went inside and, tired as she was, decided to have a shower. The hot water relaxed her almost completely and she let herself indulge fantasies of Vincent, too tired to stop herself. As she turned off the water, the shower door opened. She was frightened only for the fraction of a second it took her to realize that the object of her fantasies had appeared in the flesh.

She only caught a glimpse of him before he turned her to face the shower wall, slipping a hand under her knee to raise it. She was too aroused to speak. She moaned as he growled and raised her other leg with his other hand. In a moment he had unceremoniously penetrated her, and she unashamedly moaned, grunted, and groaned as he slid her up and down his shaft, her hands, breasts, and face sliding up and down the slick shower wall. The experience ended once again, loudly, in an earth-shattering orgasm.

He removed himself from her body and lowered her legs, scooping her up and carrying her to the bed. He covered her, pressed his forehead to hers for a moment, and left. Catherine, utterly spent and struggling to keep heavy eyelids open, called, "Vincent?" Her eyelids drifted shut. "Vincent...." she tried again, but it was no use. She fell asleep instantly.

***

Catherine awoke in a state of incredulity. She exhaled heavily. "Oh god, Vincent, what are you doing?" she murmured. She had never felt so confused. She needed to talk to him. But words had failed her the day before. What would she say? Keeping one encounter a secret was one thing, but if these visits were to continue, it would feel like a lie not to tell him. She slapped the alarm as it went off, and lacking a better plan, decided to rise and get ready for work.

Letting her subconscious deal with what to say to Vincent had not yielded any insights, she noted as she paused midmorning to consciously think about him. But she did have an "omigod" moment a short time later, after which she called to make an appointment with Peter. The current situation was difficult enough without the possibility of pregnancy to complicate things further.

***

As Catherine was letting herself into her apartment that evening, she had a sudden revelation: her lover was the wilder side of Vincent's personality. Of course! Why hadn't she realized that sooner? But it seemed that Vincent always remembered violence committed by his "dark" side—it troubled him greatly. Why shouldn't he remember sex? It was baffling. She focused on her keys again and opened the door.

Catherine was determined to figure out what was going on with Vincent. She changed into comfortable clothing, grabbed a quick dinner, put her briefcase in the closet and her mail into a drawer. Having thus cleared away distractions, she sat down with a cup of tea to think.

She realized she could all too easily understand his underlying motivation. She had suppressed so many of her conscious thoughts and feelings about Vincent for so long that her dreams had become increasingly, wildly explicit. Had her own dreams called Vincent to her, to satisfy her in a way he would not consciously allow himself? Or had he been likewise suppressing his thoughts and feelings until his own erotic dreams had spilled over into reality?

Her thoughts drifted to his not remembering. Who wouldn’t want to remember that? she wondered. As memories went, Catherine mused, those were some doozies, experiences she wasn’t likely to forget ever. She couldn’t remember ever behaving quite as wantonly as she had two nights ago. Of course, her desire had never been so long neglected and left to build to such fiery peaks either. Little wonder it had erupted as it had.

She had, when her resolve was weak, entertained all manner of fantasies about Vincent, from chaste kisses to tender lovemaking to wild sex. Somehow she had always expected his initial advances, when they finally came, to be at the chaste end of the spectrum. She took a deep breath of frustration and suddenly realized: He couldn’t remember his actions because they just didn’t mesh with who he was! Her Vincent would start at the chaste end of the spectrum! And yet she couldn’t deny that she craved his wilder self as well, and that wilder self clearly did not have Vincent’s usual list of worries to hold him back. She shuddered with desire as she recalled his firm touch, his growls. Stop! she warned herself. She took some deep breaths to calm herself and clear her mind. The last thing she needed was to draw him to her yet again.

She began to feel guilty. Was all of this her fault? What would it do to Vincent when he learned the truth? She could imagine his reaction—guilt, shame, horror—all too vividly. She felt almost sick with worry. Calm, she reminded herself. Drawing the kind, caring, rational Vincent would serve no purpose at this point either. What would she say to him?

She sighed, frustrated and exhausted. Sleep called to her, but she was afraid to go to bed. She dreaded another of his nocturnal visits—she’d certainly never expected to feel that!— and yet at the same time she relished the idea. She’d been celibate for too long; her thirst for his touch was not yet quenched. Would it ever be? she wondered idly. She could control her conscious thoughts, of that she was sure. But she couldn’t trust her subconscious. That’s it, she thought, I just can’t go to sleep any more. She laughed out loud at the ridiculousness of the idea, but lacking a better plan, she fetched her briefcase from the closet and tried to stay awake anyway.

Unsuccessfully.

***

She woke to find her pants being removed by her single-minded lover. Her body was preparing itself for him already. He raised her to her knees facing the back of the couch, separated her legs, between which he inserted his own knees and quickly penetrated her. She gave herself to him again as eagerly as before, and not until she reached climax, which did not take long, did she realize her error. "No!" she screamed.

And woke up, sweating and panting. It had been only a dream. She was simultaneously disappointed and relieved.

While Vincent still dominated her dreams, he did not return in person the next several nights. Catherine had begun to feel relieved that things were getting back to normal, but relief soon gave way to concern. She felt she would know if there was anything seriously wrong, but she decided she’d best pay him a visit anyway.

Vincent was not waiting at the threshold when she descended the ladder Saturday afternoon. Her concern mounted as she walked towards the central chambers. Suddenly, Jamie appeared from her sentry hiding place. She explained that Vincent was away attending to a minor emergency, but that Father would no doubt enjoy her company. She proceeded to the library, where Father was indeed pleased to see her.

"Catherine!" he smiled as he rose to greet her. "How was your week?"

"Oh, pretty good," she smiled in return, hugging him. "How was yours?"

"Good overall," he said as he returned to his chair. "But I’m afraid we’ve had a bit of bad fortune over the past days. A leaking pipe in one of the lower chambers. They just get it fixed in one place, and it springs a new leak somewhere else. Exasperating. Vincent, Mouse, Cullen, and Michael have gone to attend to it."

"How long have they been gone?" Catherine asked, wondering if it was only that incident that kept her wild lover away.

"Since Thursday morning. Hopefully, they’ll have it finished soon."

"Good," she said, nodding. That still left two nights unaccounted for, she thought, wondering what, if anything, that meant.

"Can I interest you in a game of chess, my dear?" Father asked hopefully.

Catherine agreed. She was far from an expert chess player, but she had come to enjoy Father’s company, and anyway she had nothing better to do while waiting for Vincent.

Unfortunately, the pipe emergency seemed to be taking longer than she or Father had hoped. She ate dinner with the tunnel folk, took a turn reading at story hour, helped Mary get the children to bed, and played another game of chess with Father. Still no Vincent. She decided she’d worn out her welcome when Father began to nod off.

"It’s late, Father. Thanks for your hospitality. I guess I should be going."

"They should be back soon. I don’t know what’s taking so long."

"It’s ok. I’ll see him another time."

"Would you... like to stay in the guest chamber perhaps?"

Catherine paused to think. It was not every day Father made such an offer—it would be a shame to refuse it. But what if Vincent returned during the night? she wondered briefly. Not much difference either way, I guess. "I’d like that," she replied. "Thank you."

Alas, Vincent did not return during the night, nor the following morning. After breakfast, Catherine spent the morning reading in Vincent’s chamber. Remembering the work she’d brought home with her, she decided to head home in the early afternoon. She said her goodbyes and headed back to the threshold of her sub-basement.

She was just about to climb the ladder when Vincent’s tired but soothing voice caressed her. "Catherine." She turned to face him, breaking into a smile.

He looked exhausted and filthy, but she hugged him anyway. "Vincent, I missed you."

"And I missed you. I’m sorry." He pulled away, not wanting to sully Catherine’s clothing.

Catherine continued smiling. "It’s ok. I had a lovely time with your family. Not that they’re any substitute for you, but still."

He smiled shyly.

"Vincent," she said, as she squeezed his arms, "You look completely exhausted. I won’t keep you. I’m sure you’re looking forward to getting cleaned up and having a long sleep."

He sighed and nodded.

"Thank you for coming to see me."

He sighed again. "Catherine, it is I who should be thanking you. You waited a whole day...."

"It was worth the wait." She smiled again and reached up to.... She’d been about to kiss him, she realized. She changed it into a hug instead.

"Goodbye, Catherine," Vincent said as he separated from her.

"Goodbye, Vincent," she replied. "See you soon, I hope." She smiled again, faintly, and began her ascent back Above.

I almost kissed him! she thought as she crossed the sub-basement to the elevator. She’d considered kissing him plenty of times, but this time had been an impulse. Their new intimacy had clearly had an effect on her subconscious, she speculated. She wondered if remembering not to cross certain lines with him would be a problem. She stepped into the elevator.

What if I had kissed him? Would the outcome have been good or bad? Several scenarios quickly crossed her mind, but she came to no conclusions. She sighed in frustration as the elevator stopped at her floor. She craved his kiss. She wondered idly whether her wild lover would kiss her if she thought about it enough. "This is crazy," she said aloud.

She cleared the thoughts from her mind as she entered her apartment, setting her confusion and frustration aside, as she delved into her work.