Chapter 5

He held his breath, afraid to move, in a state of shocked disbelief. How could this be happening? He wanted her so much, longed for her with a strength that was overwhelming, and though this feeling wasn't new, allowing her to know of it, to actually feel his physical response, was. He'd felt her sudden stillness matching his own, and knew, both through it and their bond, that she was prepared for him to leave her, as he'd always done in the past, and long, long before things had ever reached this degree of seriousness. But he couldn't leave her now, not yet. He needed more, wanted more. Just a little more, he promised himself, then he would end it and they would pull back from the brink, before anything was done that couldn't be undone. Just this once, he told himself, he would let the bond flow unrestricted through them both. They needed it so badly, this sharing. Just a few minutes more...

He let the bond stream over him, let it carry Catherine's emotions to him with a fullness that made him burn. What he felt now was like nothing he'd ever felt before. Twice this day he'd experienced physical release, his emotions pushed past the brink by the strength of her hidden desires, and yet now his body ached as if neither of those events had ever transpired. It was so different now, here, with her like this. He hungered for her! His hands, as if they had a will of their own, began to move against her delicate flesh. A low growl rumbled through his chest as a wave of frustration filled him. The angora was silky and soft, but not silky enough, not soft enough. Only her bare flesh beneath his hot palms would satisfy him. That thought caught him up short and his hands tightened upon her. He closed his eyes and held himself still a moment longer, afraid of what he might do next if he weren't careful.

That was a mistake.

With his eyes closed, and all motion stilled, sensations of her body and his own flooded through him. He could feel his blood throbbing, beating through arteries and veins in a pulsing rhythm that was strong and sure. It strummed through his neck until his head spun dizzily with a rushing roar of liquid tension. His whole body tensed as it surged strongly along the swelling length of his erection. He felt a pulse in his throat, then another lower down, groaning as his arousal grew, thick and hard and straining with hot blood. Her fingers tightened at the nape of his neck, her nails digging lightly, deliciously into that sensitive flesh, and he gasped out loud, his erection surging strongly again in response. He was so hot. His mouth was parched, gasping for breath, filling with cool gusts and expelling arid heat. His tongue flicked out, wetting the dryness of his lips. It was a futile effort. Thirsty, he was so thirsty, he needed to get a drink, needed something...

Just then her hands tightened in his hair. He blinked hazily and felt himself tugged down. His eyes were so heavy, half closed as he focused on the sensation of her against him, the sensation of her inside him. When her lips covered his he was astonished and completely unprepared. They were silky and wet, moving fervently against the aching heat of his own. He opened his mouth, drawing in a deep breath both there and through his nostrils, drawing in her scent from both spots, tasting it, deep in his throat. So spicy, so sweet, he had to have more. Tilting his head, he sought out her mouth with his own, a desperate hunger raging through him. He had never kissed her in this way, had never kissed anyone in this way, but in moments he was drinking from her lips, slaking his thirst in the wet depths of her mouth, the taste of her a craving that he knew in the deepest part of himself. She groaned and the sound vibrated against their lips and along their tongues, tasting, touching, stroking...

He pulled away with a groaning snarl, his head tilted back to draw in deep, gasping lungfuls of air. His hands kneaded her flesh at shoulder and hip, trying to draw her closer yet, though that seemed impossible. His erection, thick and hard, tormented him, demanded he take her, and in his mind, for just a moment, he imagined pulling her wrap aside and tugging her gown up to uncover the silken treasure waiting, imagined pulling her closer yet, imagined how her legs would feel, wrapped around his waist, heels pressed tight to his skin, beneath his cloak, his pulsing sex pressed to her slick, wet, feminine core, imagined how it would feel to have her take him into her silken sheath, imagined her holding his pulsing length tight...

Oh, god, how he wanted that!

The snarl built to a growl, and his hands moved shakily to her shoulders to turn his imaginings to reality, wanting it, needing it. She turned willingly in his arms, straddling his hips to sit upon her knees, pressing herself closer to him, until his throbbing erection was held tight between their bellies. She rocked against his surging flesh and he moaned, helpless, his hands sliding down to cup the rounded curves of her bottom, lifting her up and pulling her in tighter against his swelling length.

"Now, Vincent, oh please, now!" she cried.

In her voice and through their bond he read her desperation and knew it matched his own. The images from her subverted dream came to him then, their arms entwined, bodies pressed close. They'd kissed there, too, only now he knew the taste and texture of her, and nothing in the dream came close to that - nothing! Surging abruptly to his feet, he carried her to his bed, driven by the lusty feel of her against him, and the dream images within. Their bond swirled around both, indistinguishable, blending the two as one. Her knees hugged him tight, holding him close, and when he reached the mattress he fell upon it, one hand breaking the full impact of his weight against hers beneath him. In moments the gown and robe were gone, flung from his hands to land somewhere on the floor behind him. Her knees still gripped him, but outside his cloak, not as he'd imagined them, inside, against his flesh. The woolen folds were a separation he could no longer bear, and he pulled it away, letting it fall where it would without thought.

Everything flew from his mind in that next instant, in the moment when his bare flesh touched her own. He moaned loudly, rubbing his torso against hers to feel the fullness of her breasts against his chest, the hard nipples buried in the thick thatch of hair to press against his heated skin. She was so slender beneath him, but she held him so tight, her arms drawing him down, her knees lifting higher until he felt the silky wetness of her sex against the base of his pulsing flesh, and above that the curved, satiny smooth trembling of her belly. Her legs wrapped around him, and her heels stroked desperately against the taut curves of his buttocks, the muscles tense and shaking with anticipation. He moaned again, stroking his body against hers, loving the friction of her silky skin against his throbbing sex, wanting more, needing more.

He moved lower, instinctively seeking the position he needed, but as he slid down her belly, the engorged flesh of his sex dragged against hers, his steely length stroking the bundle of taut nerves between her petalled lips. When the broad, tumescent tip slid over that sensitive region, she cried out and jerked upward against him, the fullness of his touch flinging her directly to orgasm with a shuddering urgency that couldn't be stopped. Her throaty cries rang in his head and through their bond, the sensations of her climax immediately drawing his own. His hands gripped her shoulders tight as he ground himself against her pulsing flesh and belly, his growls erupting to a full roar in an instant, the animalistic sounds of release joining hers to create a duet of sensual music, erotic and intense. It echoed throughout the chamber and through their bond. When it finally disappeared, utter silence reigned. Catherine and Vincent lay naked upon his bed, bodies entwined, fast asleep.

**********

A slight sound drew her from the hazy mist, and blinking her eyes open languidly, she saw Vincent standing near the chamber entrance. His eyes met hers and with a shrug of his shoulders the ebony cloak fell to the ground behind him. He was naked beneath it. Her eyes opened wide as she took in the virile sight of him. He didn't look away, standing still for a moment so that she could look her fill, before striding toward her. His body was so beautiful. It was perfection; steely, muscled strength coated with silk. He was extremely aroused, his erection long and thick. She could swear she saw a throbbing of the vein running along its length, visible even while he was several feet distant. Beneath the jutting staff, the pendant weight was full and taut, and she licked her lips, amazed that he was ready again so soon. He was amazing.

In an instant he stood beside the bed, looming over her, a massive figure, the epitome of primal masculinity. Without pausing, he reached down and tugged the covers away, so that she lay exposed. He scanned her length slowly, his eyes darkening with hunger. The weight of his regard was so heady and so compelling that she spread her legs open for him without thought, reaching up with yearning arms, her invitation unmistakable. He responded immediately, sinking down until he laid heavy upon her. She was immensely pleased that he didn't try to spare her his weight, wrapping her arms around him tight to keep him there, then lifting her legs up high until they were secure around his waist. There, she wanted him there...

He buried his face into the curve of her neck and growled softly, wedging his hands beneath her shoulders to grip them hard. She felt his teeth a second later, the sharp tips of his incisors closing firmly upon the delicate flesh of her throat. She moaned in response, but stayed completely still as his tongue bathed that spot contained between his four canines, his lips suckling the surrounding area until the vein beneath throbbed with pleasure, sending sparks of delight to quiver through her body, culminating in small, explosive bursts at her very core. The sounds she made fueled him on; she couldn't have been quiet had her life depended on it. His body shifted a moment later, though his mouth still held her in its tight grip. With a fierce thrust he entered her, his thick erection impaling her completely, to her very womb. She screamed in ecstasy, climaxing instantly, convulsions gripping the steely length of him. His growling moans were muffled against her throat, but she felt the pulsing jets deep inside, felt his sex throb and surge within her. They shared their passionate release completely, and she was barely aware of it when the death-grip of his teeth upon her was removed. His weight was heavier now, lethargic and solid. She felt enclosed and safe beneath him. Her legs slid down to rest outside his own, but her arms stayed locked about his waist as she drifted off...

A slight sound drew her from the hazy mist, and blinking her eyes open languidly, she saw Vincent's face before her, beside her on the bed, fast asleep. The dream melted away slowly, as if reluctant to end, and she gasped, still feeling the dizzying effects of that compelling apparition. She remembered it so clearly, every detail. She had dreamed it through, to the blissful end. As if sensing her astonished wonder, Vincent's eyes opened slowly. They were filled with relaxed contentment at first, but a moment later, as he came more fully awake, that emotion was replaced with confusion and consternation.

**********

She spoke before he could stop her, unwilling to give him even the slightest chance, should the thought enter his mind to pull back, to reverse the course of the last few hours. "I think I dreamed, Vincent," she said, amazement in her voice.

'But was it?' a tiny voice inside asked. Reaching up she stroked the area at the curve of her throat and neck, feeling for four tiny points, teeth marks that should have been there had there been no dream. Nothing. Yes, it had all been a dream, she thought, swallowing hard past a lump of disappointment that threatened to choke her.

The look of panic that had been growing in his eyes a moment before wasn't gone, but at her words relief appeared as well, muting the dismay a bit.

"And I remember the details, everything." She paused for a minute, then went on, somewhat shyly, "Did you see it, through the bond?"

He shook his head, bewilderment now joining the trio of other emotions residing in his face. "No, I don't remember dreaming at all," he said, his voice husky and soft. "I don't think I've ever slept so soundly in my life." At the conclusion of those words he blushed, as if just recognizing the correlation of that statement and what most likely had been the cause of it.

His eyes were no longer on hers, but instead lower down, at her neck, where her hand still stroked lightly, in memory. She blushed and drew her hand away, but not quickly enough.

"What is it, Catherine?"

"Nothing," she said.

But he ignored that response, reaching out to cup her chin, turning it until the spot she had touched was more clearly illuminated by the one candle left lit, behind the stained glass inset at the far side of his bed. He inspected her throat closely, but obviously found nothing there. Though she'd done the same a moment ago, another twinge of disappointment arrowed through her at his confirmation. Finally he released her, and in so doing shifted a little, turning more fully onto his side, though still facing her. It was a graceful move, as most of his actions were, appearing effortless and smooth, but nonetheless she knew that he had done it on purpose to put some distance between them, and subtle though it was, by the time he was settled once more, propped now on one elbow, they weren't touching anywhere. Even that wasn't sufficient to calm him completely, she noticed, as he hitched the edge of the blankets higher, covering himself to the neck.

She stared at him, remembering the moments before they'd fallen asleep. That hadn't been a dream, she was absolutely sure of that. He wouldn't be here now, in this bed with her, both of them naked, if that had been a dream. But she didn't need that physical evidence to assure her. It had happened, really happened, somehow she had no doubt about that. She remembered how he'd looked in the dream, how he'd stood still for her perusal, and now she knew that that particular vision of him was an accurate representation of what she'd seen just hours before, fleeting those those glimpses had been. The tactile sensations from that time were much stronger, overwhelming almost everything else. No matter. She knew now that her dream image matched the physical reality of him. Despite the sheet, blanket and heavy quilt, she could see him so clearly, as if his beautiful body were naked to her eyes.

A tapping over the pipes interrupted that train of thought. It was a short burst, and she recognized it as a time signal, though she was unable to decipher the details. "What time is it?" she asked.

"Almost eight o'clock," he murmured. The color in his face had begun to recede after he'd covered himself more thoroughly, but now it returned in full force.

She had to bite her tongue to stop from repeating the words in wonder. The whole day had passed. Finally she couldn't resist asking the inevitable question; "Are we going to talk about this, Vincent?"

His eyes widened, and for a moment she almost thought he would leave her. The thought was so ludicrous, after their frank talk about his fears earlier, and what had followed, but still she waited, her breath held tight, to see what his response would be. It almost seemed he read her mind. Though the trepidation still remained, his lips turned up at the corners in a tiny, ironic smile. She breathed a sigh of relief, surprised but pleased that he was able to acknowledge the humor in her question. What alternative was left to them, all things considered? So he would stay. Good. Part of her couldn't help but wonder, though, if his decision had in part been determined by his fear of leaving the bed naked. That was definitely not an area she could consider too long without losing the focus she now struggled so hard for, and so she put that thought aside, though not without some regret. Later, she promised herself, later. Right now there was something she needed to ask him. Though he'd eventually brushed aside some of the fears he'd articulated earlier, dismissing them as little more than subterfuge, she couldn't rest until she was certain how he really felt on at least one issue.

"Vincent, I need to ask you something."

His response was predictable; his features grew still, his expression neutral, but in his eyes and through their bond she felt a growing tension. He didn't tell her to stop, though, and she drew a deep breath and went on. "I know what you said earlier, but I need to know if it bothers you..."

She faltered mid-stream, unsure of how to phrase her question. He still dreaded what might be forthcoming, she could tell, but now there was curiosity in his eyes as well.

"Bothers me, Catherine?" he asked.

"Stephen and..."

She couldn't finish, but she didn't need to. The expression in his eyes changed abruptly and she knew he understood. She tightened her hand into a fist, clutching the bedclothes to her chest in order to still the trembling of her fingers as she waited for his response. He reached out and covered her hand, his shoulder emerging from beneath the enveloping covers.

"No," he answered immediately. He shook his head firmly, his eyes holding hers, and she read the insistence he wanted her to see. "No," he repeated. "None of that matters."

He stared into her eyes, willing her to believe him, and she did, her breath expelled with a rush. Still, she needed to make sure about one very crucial item. "You know, don't you, that I never slept with Elliot?"

He nodded, still holding her gaze, and she knew that it was true.

"Part of me didn't understand what was happening that first year, Vincent, after you came back to me again," she went on, needing to explain. "But deep inside another part did. I couldn't stand the thought of another man touching me after that, even before I knew what it meant, what you meant."

He swallowed hard, and she could see that it was still difficult for him to accept the impact he'd had on her life. He drew his hand away slowly, and slipped his arm beneath the blankets again, his expression full of conflicting emotions. He slid down off the supporting elbow and nestled into the pillow once more. A space still separated them, but his gaze was somehow less guarded than before, less tense. That was a good sign, and it gave her the courage to ask something else.

"Do you want me to tell you about the dream?"

He blinked a few times, and she could tell that he hadn't expected that.

"I think I know..." He didn't go on, a blush once more staining his cheeks.

"We were here," she interrupted him, "in this chamber."

He looked surprised at that, and somewhat discomfited, and she went on hurriedly.

"For a moment when I first woke up, just a moment, I wasn't sure it was a dream at all. That's why I asked you..."

She didn't continue, lost in thought, her hand idly stroking the tender flesh of her throat once more. She wasn't aware she was doing it until his hand covered hers and drew it away, his gaze pinned there again.

"What did I do, Catherine... here."

He stroked a finger lightly over the arched expanse and she shivered in response. Should she tell him? She had found it intensely erotic, but would he see something else in it, something more sinister? Suddenly she remembered his confused words of the morning, about how he said what he hadn't mean to say, what wasn't necessarily true, when confronted with the growing intimacy of their relationship, that response driven by fear and uncertainty. That was enough for her. The one thing of importance between them now was the truth. It was the only way they could find the strength to move forward.

"You held me here," she said, stroking that area once more, " with your teeth."

He drew in a gasping breath, but she didn't stop.

"It was wonderful." Her voice was dreamy and low. In her mind she sought out the sensations of that wildly exciting moment again. "I knew if it hadn't been a dream I'd find four marks there."

He stared at her, appalled, but she shook her head calmly, telling him before she continued on that he was wrong.

"I wanted to find those marks. I'm sorry they're not there."

The breath he released shuddered audibly through his chest. "Catherine, if I were to ever do such a thing... Please tell me that you would stop me." He was almost frantic in his insistence. "This is an example of what I mean when I say I could hurt you. Don't you see? It might sound... exotic to you." He paused before selecting that word, and she could see by the painful flinch of his eyes t that he had a more basic, less benign word in mind. "But the reality could be very different from what you envision."

He shook his head, his gaze turned inward, as if he were seeing a very specific moment, and when he spoke again, she knew that he was, and exactly what that moment had been.

"When Paracelsus took you below... When Erlich and I fought..."

He was almost stuttering, unable to complete the thought, but it was unnecessary. A vivid scene came to mind of the animal Paracelsus had referred to as among his simple ones. He was bigger than Vincent, and for a moment she had wondered if it was possible for him to succeed against so strong and single- minded a menace. She should have known better. Even in an all-encompassing grip, with his arms constrained to his sides, Vincent had won that encounter, his teeth a weapon that Erlich had not sufficiently taken into account. That underestimation had been his undoing. She stopped his painful attempt at explanation.

"I know, Vincent. I've seen your strength and your skill at defense. We are all capable of that to one degree or another, but it doesn't mean those things will translate to other areas in our lives. I know how you respond to violence." He flinched again at her words and looked down, his hair cascading forward to cover his face from her view. She reached out to stroke the hair back from his temple, urging his face up until his eyes met hers once more. "And I've seen how you are with me, with the children." She stared at him intently, willing him to believe what she said. "You're so gentle with them, Vincent. I know you doubt your ability to separate your instinctive reactions in highly emotional settings, but I don't. You would never hurt the children. You didn't harm the child who was with the ones who invaded the tunnels, not even in the midst of your protective rage. And you've never hurt me."

He shook his head frantically, sure she didn't understand, but desperate to make her see what he feared. "That's because I'm careful not to take any chances, Catherine. You know that - it's been the source of so much of the conflict in our relationship. I've built those walls for your own protection. You can't know if they're necessary or not, because I don't know. I know you want to believe that I could never hurt you. Don't you think I want that, too? I want it to be true... I want that desperately. But what if I'm wrong? What if you're wrong? Things are not always the way we wish them to be."

She shook her head in disagreement. "You didn't hurt me last night, Vincent," she said, gently reminding him.

He flushed as her words brought back to the forefront what he had been pushing aside ever since he'd woken.

"And don't tell me that wasn't an emotional setting, or that you weren't lost in those emotions. You were. We both were," she insisted.

"Yes," he whispered, unable to disagree with what both of them knew was the truth. But despite that, he persevered on his course, unable to let it go. "What we did this morning, Catherine..." He stopped and swallowed hard before continuing on. "If we hadn't stopped..." He blinked rapidly, then tried again. "We don't know what might have happened if we'd finished."

She stared at him intently for a few minutes in complete silence. There was really only one response to that statement, and she was sure he knew it as well as she, but she spoke the words nonetheless: "It's time we answered that question, Vincent."

He drew up on his elbow once more and leaned further back from her, his eyes widening.

"Catherine," he started, but got no further before her finger reached out to press against his lips.

"Shhh," she said, imploring him with her eyes to at least let them begin the exploration of this issue, to take what had happened earlier this day and rather than negate it, enhance it, and perhaps even build upon it. The trepidation in his own eyes didn't diminish, but he was silent, whether by her request or by his own fears. She stroked her finger over his upper lip and her gaze dropped to pin on that location. It was different from her own, but so appealing, so sensual. Coated with very short, baby-fine, silky hair, it drew her hypnotically. Only the cleft at the center was bare of that covering, and it had its own, secret allure. She smoothed over that spot, homing in on it, and he leaned away abruptly with a gasp. She followed, pressing her palm against his shoulder to take advantage of the momentum he initiated until he fell flat to the mattress, resting on his back.

"Catherine," he began once more.

She shook her head in response, and before he could speak again, she had pressed her lips to his, kissing him lightly, her hand still covering the curve of his shoulder. He was absolutely still when she drew back, his eyes closed, as if that hand contained a force exceeding his own strength. Finally golden lids lifted heavily, as if struggling against a weight, and in his waiting gaze she found the fear of before now mixed with a hesitant, hopeful yearning.

"I love you, Vincent," she said, responding instinctively to the vulnerability and need she saw there, before lowering her lips to his once more. This time she stayed longer, exploring the textures and shape of his mouth. Her tongue flicked into the waiting cleft and he gasped again, his lips parting to draw in a panting breath. She responded immediately, shifting her attention in an instant to the inner edges of that delicate flesh, licking lightly along and beneath it, feeling the coolness of a sharp tooth in passing. She shuddered with excitement, quickly seeking out its twin above, and the smaller pair below, sighing with delight. His chest rose and fell rapidly beneath her and even through the quilt separating them she could feel the pounding beat of his heart. The thought of the broad expanse covering that heart was suddenly irresistible and she drew back once more. His eyes were closed again, hot breath panting against her face through parted lips, the sharp tips of his upper incisors showing clearly. She knew their taste now, knew their shape and feel, that knowledge filling her with an inexplicable sense of pride. The cleft at the center of his upper lip quivered minutely, and she found it almost impossible to ignore further exploration there, promising herself to return to that spot again soon; she would discover the waiting delight there, and everywhere else, of that she was determined. All in good time, a voice whispered deep inside, all in good time. But now his waiting stillness drew her. His head was thrown back, and the arched strength of his throat seemed to compel her gaze down its length, ending at the hollow of its base. It didn't stop there, though, the rising expanse of his breast drawing her further, until the edge of the bedclothes frustrated her eager eyes. Beneath her hand the silky, short hairs coating his shoulder felt both sleek and warm, and she stroked inward, to the hollow of his throat, feeling the sudden absence of hair with a delicious shock. This one spot was the only one showing, thus far, that was bare of hair, and the feel of his naked flesh stirred feelings both tender and wild. She caressed it with an almost worshipful attention, leaning forward to press her lips to its center as her fingers slid away. His chest jolted beneath her, but she stayed still, nuzzling to that deep hollow for a few minutes more, before drawing back yet again to observe the heightened symptoms of arousal on his face. She watched him closely while her fingers slid down, encountering a thicker, longer thatch of hair at the upper extremity of his chest. The edge of the quilt provided no detriment to her exploration, but was instead tugged back by those traversing fingers, the tips dragging irresistibly through the lush body hair even as she bared his upper chest to her eager eyes. The muscles across his torso trembled visibly, and she stroked her palm soothingly across it, then left it to lie still at the center, providing some protective coverage, spare though it was, the size of her hand small in comparison to that broad expanse. Her heart contracted when, looking up into his face, she found the planes there taut with tension, his eyes squeezed shut as if expecting a painful blow. A part of her raged at the injustices of his youth which had allowed such emotional vulnerability to flourish in one so physically strong, and yet another part of her reluctantly acknowledged that he wouldn't be the man she loved without this extreme sensitivity, both inward and out, to himself and to others. The bond was surely proof of that, wasn't it? Yes, she was certain it was. Still, her heart ached at the pain-filled look of expectation there. She needed him to know that between them the possibilities of pleasure waited, that a sweeter pain could replace what he'd known and feared, one which he might yet look forward to with eager anticipation, rather than the anxious trepidation of old.

The same quilt covered both their nakedness, but it was tucked between them, separating their bodies, and now she tugged that fold loose and leaned into him even as she pressed her lips to his once more. A gasping cry escaped him as he felt her bare breasts nestle along his side, and hot, sweet air filled her mouth from his. They'd touched like this earlier, but then they were long lost in the emotional maelstrom of their bond, swept away by a power that exceeded all reason, will and resistance. Now he lay still beside her and she could feel the desperate effort he put forth to control his motions, hands held rigidly at his side as she touched him. The realization that he intended to let her continue this exploration of his body swept through her and a low moan of excitement and pleasure vibrated through her lips and against his own. Her hand clenched tightly in the thick hair of his chest for a moment in response to that knowledge, and only when she felt his muscles jump beneath her fingers did she realize what she was doing and loosen her grip. She drew back slightly, making sure the distance between them was minimal, and stared up at his face, rubbing soothingly over that region in silent apology. Tension was still present there, but it was different now, and that, along with the abrupt presence of a rumbling purr from beneath her hand, made her wonder whether her unthinking action had actually caused him pain, as she'd first believed, or pleasure, as his response now seemed to suggest.

Carefully, tentatively, she closed her fingers in that lushness once more, tugging gently, and was rewarded as the purr deepened and his mouth dropped open in helpless supplication. There was no doubt about it, the look on his face and the sounds resonating through his chest told her clearly of his growing rapture. Cautiously, she raked her fingers more deeply into the profusion of hair, letting her nails scrape lightly across the golden flesh below. A groan escaped his throat and he arched up into her hand in a blatant sign of ecstasy. Only then, when there was no doubt remaining as to his reaction, did she consciously begin to delve through the lush thatch to scratch in a rhythmic pattern along the sensitive skin beneath it. The light purr vibrating through his chest deepened until a rolling growl rumbled upward. "This feels good, doesn't it?" she asked, watching his face closely while her hand continued to move upon him. His eyes opened slowly and she caught her breath at the expression within them; astonished pleasure dominated almost completely, though there was still anxious trepidation there, as well as an intense vulnerability. It was as if he couldn't believe this was actually happening, couldn't believe it could possibly continue, so great was the pleasure filling him from this simple touch of her hand on his chest. At the same time she read a fervent- though-silent plea that she not stop, and that sent shivers racing through her body and the bond, along with her silent, affirmative response.

She wouldn't stop, not unless he specifically asked it of her, and perhaps not even then, if she weren't convinced of his absolute need that she do so. For the moment she read no resistance in him, though a trace of fear still remained. She suspected that would not be easily eradicated, considering the extensive conditioning of his youth, but she looked forward to doing so, knowing that only once it was done would he be totally hers, and she his. The movement of her hand broadened and suddenly she encountered a small, protruding bump beneath her nails. His muscles jumped at that touch and he drew in a gasping breath, though otherwise remained silent and still. She continued to study his face intently, but shifted the focus of her caress from nails to the soft pads of her fingers, stroking lightly around the hairless pap and bud of his nipple nestled deep within the protective layer of rough hair on his chest. His panting increased and he moaned softly, the sound somehow reluctant in its release, as if he were trying desperately to keep it contained. She would have none of that. It became paramount with her, at that moment, to elicit from him the fullest response of the pleasure he was experiencing, sensing that those audible signs were needed to truly confirm for him the reality of what was occurring. Besides, the sounds he'd made so far, the groaning growls and rumbling purrs, excited her almost past bearing, and she craved more, her excitement climbing.

She wasn't inexperienced, though there had been only a few men in her life before him, but never, not even under the most passionate of encounters with any of them, had she felt anything close to what she felt right now, when she was only touching his chest and he not touching her at all. It was astonishing, and she felt almost dizzy with the heady sense of anticipation beginning to fill her, as if she, as well as he, were experiencing this for the first time. Plucking teasingly upon the taut tip, she felt the smooth flesh of his nipple quiver slightly and he moaned again, this time a little louder, the sound filling her with satisfaction. Still, it wasn't enough, and she wondered if they would ever reach a point in their lives where touches between them, be they ever so slight, wouldn't be magnified beyond all imaginings, by the presence of their omnipotent bond. Somehow she was sure that this sense of excitement, wonder and pleasure would always exist between them, and deep inside she felt her muscles contract in response, felt them clutching at an emptiness which craved to be filled.

Finally, finally, she was beginning to believe that soon that craving would be fulfilled, the thought of that logical culmination sending a shuddering, dizzying wave through her once more. Focusing her concentration away from her own body and again to his was easy, the magnificence of him drawing her eyes, her hands, her entire body. Her mouth hungered to taste him, and she brushed the thick hair aside to expose his tender flesh to her eager eyes. The pap and bud were a rich mahogany color, in delicious contrast to the golden amber tone of the surrounding skin now visible at the edges. Her eyes confirmed, as her fingers had already discovered, that it was hairless and almost completely smooth, except for the tiny, prickling ripples that were present in concentric circles upon his flesh, caused by the excitement engendered by her touch. Her gaze was pinned upon that spot almost completely, though she glanced up beneath her lashes for a moment to assess his response. He was staring down at her with bated breath, his eyes flickering back and forth between her face and her hand, astonishment and anticipation warring with blatant disbelief. In her eyes, fleeting though this particular encounter was, he must have read her intentions, though the disbelief was still there as she refocused her gaze on his waiting flesh, as though he couldn't believe that she would actually contemplate touching him in such an intimate way.

A part of her spared an instant of thought as to what his response might be as her exploration progressed, but that brought images so incredible and exciting to mind that she had to turn from them resolutely, to concentrate on the here and now, upon the pleasure waiting in the next moment, and not beyond, great as the thought of those future pleasures might be. Her lips pressed lightly to his nipple and she stayed there, completely still, as his chest jolted with released breath at that initial touch. The panting began again, but he stayed still. His right arm rested between them, at his side, and she felt the muscles along its length tense and his hand clench into a fist, the back of it caught between his outer thigh and her belly. At that sign she let her tongue peek out to flick against the taut tip. Ah, his loud groan gave her so much pleasure! She focused on the sensation beneath her tongue, tasting him as she licked around the flat circle of his pap, into the crease at the base of the tip, then finally over it with a swirl, taking the taste and texture into her so that she would never forget it. A rich scent assailed her nostrils, coming from his body in sweet waves. The taste of him was smoky, dark and deep, reminding her of the luscious effect a fine, aged merlot had when combined with the smooth, buttery texture of a soft brie. He was absolutely delicious and she had to have more. Her lips closed over the tiny tip and she suckled at it, as if to drink in his essence, periodically nipping lightly at him with her teeth. His fists clenched even tighter, the taut muscles jumping with every scrape of her teeth upon him. His biceps and triceps were so delineated that she felt the ripped length of each one along the arm that was pressed between her breasts and down her abdomen and belly.

The growling moans and groaning sighs of a moment before were louder now, and almost continuous. The musky scent of him increased, sending heady waves of sensuous pleasure through her. Her own low moans joined his, though they were muffled somewhat against his chest, the soft sounds echoing off the rock walls of the chamber to blend overhead into a sweet duet of sensuous music. While she tasted that tender morsel, her hand stroked across his chest to find its twin, caressing it gently while periodically scraping the edge of a nail lightly over it's taut peak. He cried out and arched up off the bed, the intense emotions and sensations of touch momentarily overwhelming his rigid attempts at control. A second later, when he'd fallen back to the mattress once more, she shifted her torso in order to sample the other tasty bud. His right knee was raised high, blocking full access to his body, but her breasts slid over his arm as she settled partially on top of him, and he groaned again, the sound cutting off with a small gasp as she licked over the sensitive tip just before taking it into the wet warmth of her mouth.

"Oh, Catherine..." It came out as a husky whisper, so low she almost wasn't sure he'd spoken at all. No matter; whether communicated audibly or through their bond, the aching note sent shivers racing down her spine to settle at her core, where sporadic, shattering starbursts convulsed along its length. Reluctantly she drew back, needing to see his face. The hunger and need there was so plain, so strong. Reaching upward, she kissed him again, this time pressing her tongue boldly against his lips, seeking entrance. He hesitated only a minute, then opened to her, his tongue meeting hers an instant later. A growl rumbled through his chest and up his throat, then vibrated from his mouth to hers, the sensation sending her emotions in a dizzying tailspin of delight. He tasted so wonderful! His tongue was raspy and long. Though at first tentative in this new touch, in moments he was avidly initiating the exploration, tracing the curve of her lips and the delicate flesh inside, meeting her tongue again and again to twine together in a passionate kiss. When she finally drew back, desperate for air, he groaned in frustration, though still not making any move to touch her in any other way. She stared down at him, gasping for breath, dizzy with the ecstasy his kiss inspired. With fingers that trembled, she reached upward to trace his lips lightly, an incredulous look on her face.

"How...? Where...?" The stammering words finally resolved themselves, devolving to a simpler, more earnest statement, more declaration that question;

"Can you possibly know how you affect me?" It hadn't really required an answer, and he was mute, as if incapable of words, but suddenly she needed to hear his voice.

"What I'm feeling now, can you feel it through our bond, Vincent?"

There was no doubt about the nature of this question, and he nodded, finally whispering a rough, husky "Yes," in response.

She sighed as that rumbling tone sunk through her, needing more. "Then you know that I love the feel of your body, the scent and taste of you, your kiss...?"

So much was disclosed in that question, both in its admission from her, and in any acceptance he might make, and she held her breath, wondering whether he would acknowledge or ignore it.

She continued to stroke his chest lightly as she waited for his response, nails periodically sliding through the coating there, both silky and rough, to scrape against the sensitive flesh beneath.

The rumbling purr stuttered to a halt as he drew in a gasping breath, the previous sound replaced now with a heavier panting.

Hesitation was evident in the waiting lines of his face, but finally he responded; "It seems so impossible to me..." Indeed his voice held a note of incredulity, its twin easily read in his wide-eyed gaze. Those simple words inspired so many conflicting emotions in her.

That he should feel so made her both sad and angry, yet knowing that she would be the first one - the only one - to meet that long-awaited need, filled her with excitement and joy. How she wished there had been no others before him, that she could experience these things fresh and new with him, as it surely should have been for two so connected as they. And yet, a soft voice deep inside whispered, isn't that still true, despite the past? Nothing she was feeling now had any relevance to what had ever been before. Together they were something which had never been, just as he'd said, and what she felt with him was so foreign, so thrilling in its intensity and newness, that it was impossible to compare it to those weaker instances in a past that seemed ever more distant and remote with each passing second. Yes, she realized with a dawning sense of wonder, this was all as new to her as it was to him, her heart and mind and soul untouched until brushed by his, through the magical appearance of their bond. She hadn't anticipated the severity of the bond's impact in this regard, though, hadn't anticipated that the presence of that mysterious entity could magnify and change her perceptions to such an extreme degree now, in the physical component of their relationship. She should have known it, should have suspected it in the depths of change it had wrought in all other aspects of her life, but somehow she hadn't, and the physical response his presence inspired now made her head spin, made her body ache with longing and need. She had to have him. She had to give herself to him. If he refused her now... The thought was too painful to contemplate, and she turned from it in an instant, determined that it must be so. Her gaze still locked to his, she began to let the sweeping motion of her hand move downward, disappearing beneath the covers. She heard his response in the sudden indrawn breath, saw it in the sudden increase of anxiety in his eyes, felt it in the abrupt increase in tension along the washboard steel muscles of his abdomen. Palm flat, she caressed and explored those muscles, fingers sliding into the creases of each tight indentation, nails lightly scratching through the dense fur-coat to stroke the waiting skin beneath. She was on the third twin set when she reached his navel, the tip of one finger gently swirling the perimeter to dip teasingly inside, his harshly-drawn breath contracting those delicious muscles even more. The sensation of heat increased dramatically here, and she knew it had to be coming from him, from steely flesh, flush with hot blood, hovering unseen but near, somewhere just above her hand. A shudder quivered through her at the thought of that waiting flesh. Creamy heat gathered between her thighs and she squeezed them tight, trying desperately to contain her response to that most virile, masculine part of him, while her mouth was suddenly dry and parched. She licked her lips, noting with satisfaction when his gaze flickered down to them, to watch the tip of her tongue.

"It's all right, Vincent," she whispered encouragingly. "You have every right to see me, to touch me, to enjoy that sight and touch. You have every right to enjoy my touch, to want it, to crave it, just as I do yours. I give you that right. I gave it to you long ago." His eyes returned to hers with a guilty start, and the motion of her hand changed minutely from that of exploration to comfort, rubbing gently in a small circle over his taut belly, to soothe the growing anxiety she felt in him. It didn't stay that way long, though, and she knew by the sudden flaring of his pupils and nostrils when he sensed the return of her earlier mood, when her hand began its trek once more. This time she angled it slightly to the right of his belly, encountering half of that fourth set of taut muscles which ran the full length of his abdomen, from breast to groin. He growled abruptly at the presence of her hand there, at the gentle scrape of her nails into this tender flesh, and she delved a little deeper, watching for his response. He groaned loudly, arching up into her hand. Her eyes stayed locked to his, watching the response in his eyes; trepidation vying with hunger. Oh, yes... Sliding further down, she encountered the curve of his thigh. She didn't stop there, pressing her hand, nails down, upward toward the lifted knee, feeling the continuous flexing of that long thigh muscle in passing, hearing his response in the groaning growls and gasping, panting breaths. His gaze stayed locked to hers for the most part, though his eyes darted back and forth, as if a part of him was seeking to escape, and though the rest of his body remaining still beneath her exploring hand, his head moved back and forth on the pillow in tiny, random motions. When her hand reached his knee, the fingers curved inward, to the delicate flesh of his inner thigh. He was hairless here, and as she stroked gently downward his groans increased in strength. She tugged lightly outward and felt the tentative movement of his thigh at her command, though the moan she heard just then had something of fear in it. The pleasure of touching him, the excitement and anticipation, was almost too much for her, arrows of ecstasy slicing through her. She could see the same in his eyes, mixed with the inevitable anxiety this intimacy between them inspired. She couldn't wait any longer, couldn't make him wait, not a moment more, finally sliding her hand down the remaining inches to cup the fullness of round, taut globes, slightly furred and quivering. His eyes closed and a whimper escaped his open, panting mouth. She held him in the palm of her hand, feeling the delicious weight and fullness of him. Finally she moved her fingers slightly, beginning a subtle, kneading action. He groaned again, and she felt his right knee fall open against her own leg, rejoicing at that telling sign. She slid her own leg over top of his, hooked her heel behind his calf, and pulled his thigh between her own. This time she wasn't sure if his groaning cry was due to the further exposure that move caused, or the sudden sensation of her heated, slick, female flesh against his taut thigh. Either way, he made no move to escape the delicate snare, and the sudden absence of hairless skin brushing the backs of her fingers told her that he had voluntarily moved his left leg outward as well, opening himself further to her touch. She couldn't contain her own mewling cry then, her eyes fluttering closed in a momentary loss of control. When she opened them again, he was watching her intently, disbelief, lust and fear all at war within his own half-shuttered gaze.

"Catherine...?" he groaned. There was a question there, and though she couldn't read it, she could tell he needed her reassurance, and rushed to provide it in an instant.

"Shhh, my love," she whispered. Her fingers brushed lightly over him still and his body jolted beneath her hand. "It's all right... it's all right..." Turning her hand, she cupped what she could in her palm and pressed her fingers lightly behind the full sac. He arched up into her hand, a moan of pleasure filling the chamber. When his eyes opened once more, they were hazier, and she searched them intently, almost certain that the growing pleasure was beginning to displace the fear. She watched him closely as her thumb stroked the tender flesh at the base, flicking up to feel the first taut inch of his erection. He gasped again, as did she, the heat of him surprising her. She had to have more. Pressing her thumb upward slowly, her hand left the warm nest below to curl around the root, this first feel of him sending molten lava coursing through her and eliciting a loud moan from him in response. He surged in her hand and she shuddered, suddenly certain that he would fill her with this soon, that he would complete the yearning emptiness of her body with this thick, steely shaft. Oh, god! Her body shuddered irresistibly, convulsions gripping her feminine core as she imagined how it would feel to have him there, at last. He was so thick; her fingers couldn't meet at all about his circumference.

Slowly she slid her hand upward, feeling the silky glide of circumcised flesh over the steely shaft within. His head thrashed from side to side, eyes squeezed shut as moaning growls filled the space about them, but his body stayed still, enduring her touch along the most private, intimate part of himself. Finally her hand was stopped by the broad rim of the head, and only at this point, could her fingers meet, and there only barely. Slipping over the broad tip of his penis, she held it nestled in the palm of her hand, her fingers stroking lightly, as far as they could reach, just beneath the rimmed head. He filled her hand completely, and she groaned at the thought of that tumescent head impaling her. A slick wetness coated her palm, and she knew that he was close, that he wouldn't be able to hold off much longer, not this first time. She paused for a moment, fighting the growing passion of her own body in order to make a conscious decision about how to proceed. He was still so motionless beneath her hand, though she could tell from the tension of his muscles how difficult that must be for him. That told her something, something important. He still feared for her safety, uncertain of his response once lost in the throes of passion. She could even grant him some validity to his fears, now that she could see - and feel - firsthand the strength and size of him. Still, some part of her could not question the rightness of this between them. This was meant to be; the bond would ensure their safety, of that she was certain. That same part of her suspected that Vincent felt this as well, though she knew that in his case that suspicion was probably not yet enough. She had to make sure that throughout this first encounter he was sufficiently reassured to allow a second - and an infinite number of others, a determined part of her insisted. That decided, she slipped her fingers upward to trace along the weeping tip, spreading the silky wetness over the broad, tumescent tip and rim before sliding lower to wrap her hand around him once again. This time her strokes were more purposeful, longer and tighter, and she knew that he felt the difference in intent instantly by his gasping response.

"Catherine!" His whispered cry was hoarse and feverish, his eyes glazed as they sought hers.

"Shh, Vincent, it's all right," she repeated, tightening the clasp of her thighs about his trembling leg even as she tightened the grip of her hand upon him.

He moaned loudly, and for the first time she felt a slight motion of his body, his hips arching up to thrust his growing erection into the grasping hold of her hand, the silky flesh held tight to strain over the iron-hard center. He cried out again, and this time she heard that sound tinged with dismay, as if he couldn't believe he had given in to the urges filling him. She stroked harder, murmuring her assurances to him, certain he would hear them, through their bond, if by no other means. Blood throbbed through his shaft, and she felt it in the pulsing vein running along the length, noting with astonishment that he was growing in her hand, his flesh surging incrementally as his system pumped the heated, viscous life-force through him. She wanted to see him so badly, and suddenly, as if he'd read that wish, his free leg kicked the covers away, exposing their naked bodies to the cool tunnel air. That coolness felt marvelous upon her superheated flesh, and she sighed in relief. Finally she drew her gaze away from his face, turning it downward, to where she touched him so intimately, gasping at the sight awaiting her. His body was magnificent. Taut muscles could not be hidden, not even beneath the sensual coating which covered him. A cross between fur and the more human variety of hair, it was intensely sensual and compelling. As for his penis, it was hairless, and human enough in shape, though there was no denying that in terms of size, he was well-matched here to the rest of his body, her eyes now confirming what physical touch had told her some time since. His erection strained upward and in, toward his belly, fully aroused, and the tip extended, in this position, past his navel. Her hand looked small upon it, the pale ivory standing out in dramatic contrast to the rich copper tone enclosed within its palm, darker than the hidden skin beneath lush hair, but lighter than the mahogany shade of his nipples. That color was more accurately reflected in the darker flesh of his testicles beneath, lightened somewhat by the peach-fuzz coating of amber upon them. Her eyes flicked to his sides to observe that his hands still remained in tightly clenched fists, arms held rigidly to his sides, that sight reaffirming her decision of a moment ago. He wasn't fully convinced of his ability to love her completely, not yet. But he would be, of that she was determined. Pinning her gaze on his throbbing erection, she began to stroke once more, opening and closing her hand in a rhythmic motion, though never fully releasing him. His groaning cries grew in strength, and she began to notice a catching gasp each time her grip loosened, followed by a deep moan when she once again tightened her grasp. The contrast increased until she was certain the sounds represented dismay and delight, in that order, satisfaction filling her at his growing acceptance and his ability to show her his need. She turned her gaze back up to his face, watching the lines of tension grow there.

"This feels good, doesn't it, Vincent?"

His eyes flew open and in them she read shocked surprise. She could easily see the answer, but she waited, eyes pinned to his, willing him to speak.

"Yesssss..." He blinked rapidly, as if he couldn't believe she could ask such a thing, but continued on with his answer nonetheless, as if he couldn't help himself. "It feels wonderful..." His words trailed off in a growl, but she caught his wandering attention yet again with another question.

"Do you want me to stop?"

He looked at her incredulously, as though uncertain of the response she sought. Finally he gasped out his answer through clenched teeth, with an abrupt shake of his head; "No, don't stop. Please don't stop."

There was no misunderstanding that. She dipped her head to press a kiss to his heaving breast, and her hand never slowed in its questing motion. When she lifted her head once more, she found his gaze focused downward, watching her hand upon him with disbelief. She turned her own gaze there again, avidly drinking in the glorious sight, her emotions threatening to overwhelm her all-together. The physical responses she felt were so intense, so wildly strong, and yet in some ways alien and unfamiliar. Realization swept over her in an instant, and she knew that the bond was now open to her, feeding her the sensations of his body to mix with her own in a tumultuous stream. A shudder quivered through her and she tightened her thighs together to stem the liquid flow of thick honey at their apex, then felt his own thigh caught tight between, his groaning growl telling her clearly that he felt that sweetness drizzling upon his heated flesh. Her hand tightened in response, and she felt him surge in her palm, a gasping groan rolling out. Her hand continued its stroking motion, and finally his body joined in, as if he could no longer hold it back, his hips thrusting up to match the action of her hand, pumping the thick, steely flesh through her grasping fingers until they moved together as one, a sensual dance that delighted her. She felt the approach of his release through their bond first, an odd, arresting sensation followed by intense heat. Alerted to the onset, she watched his physical response intently, noticing the increased tension of his muscles and the harsher panting of his breath. The silky globes nestled below her stroking hand suddenly swelled visibly, and a moment later she felt his erection surge once more against her eager fingers and palm. Heat radiated outward to encompass her hand as blood pumped furiously through the straining length of his shaft. Through the bond she felt the heavy ache coalesce to a tiny point, a tightening sensation that made them both groan. She had to fight the urge to close her eyes in bliss, needing to watch him, to shepherd him through this first release at her hands, rewarded with that successful effort by the glorious sight that followed. The emotions felt through their bond gathered, then paused, exploding outward a moment later with a burst of sensation. Beneath her hand his flesh swelled abruptly, then erupted, thick, milky seed gushing out in rhythmic spurts to coat his chest and belly, along with her right breast where it rested along his torso. The growling groans and moans were replaced by a rushing roar of sound that echoed about the chamber walls as he arched off the bed and into her hand. Falling back to the mattress, he continued to flex his hips against her, and she continued to stroke his still-hard flesh, feeling each stream as it exploded outward. When she released him he cried out, not yet finished, but that sound turned into a whimpering cry of satisfaction as her hand instantly cupped the fullness below to knead and massage it gently, the spasms felt even more strongly there. It took much longer for him to reach completion, at least in her limited experience, and her gaze flickered hungrily from his still throbbing flesh to the large quantity of sticky liquid coating their torsos, then back again. When the contractions began to recede, she wrapped her hand around his erection once more to stroke slowly along its length, urging the last of his release from him. Finally his rigid flesh began to soften, and his head fell back against the pillows, the movement of his body once again motionless. Gazing up into his face, she found his eyes closed, but this time no tension remained. The lines of his face were relaxed in slumber.

She released him to reach for the covers, and even in sleep he whimpered at that absence. Tugging them up over their cooling bodies, she let her hand stroke lightly over his chest and abdomen beneath it, rubbing the milky fluid into his flesh, enjoying the viscous feel of it against her palm. Her mouth watered, and her body ached, but she didn't care. He slept peacefully beside her, and she knew that peace had come from her, a gift both given and taken, and all the more precious for that sharing. The bond communicated his deep content, and that began to replace the restlessness of her own aroused body. Her hand slipped down to cup the warm, firm weight between his thighs, and she sighed with pleasure as the heaviness of his softening penis rested upon her fingers beneath. A small, groaning sigh blended with her own from his sleeping lips, and finally her eyes closed and she joined him in peaceful sleep.

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