She awoke to the gentle light of dawn. The noise of the Saturday traffic far below was just permeating her consciousness. As she listened to the sound of it, her awareness became centered on the warmth of the large body surrounding her. She opened her eyes. In the dim glow cast by the rosy hues just lighting the sky, she made out the muscular, furred arms which held her - one arm snugged firmly around her waist and the other more gently draped across her chest, the large palm and long, claw-tipped fingers cupping one breast possessively. The flesh of her back, bottom and the backs of her legs was brushed tantalizingly and warmly by the lushly furred chest, thighs and shins of the man who held her. Sighing in delight, she burrowed backwards softly, pressing into the delicious warmth, letting the fur tickle her sensitized skin. Her own arms crossed in front of her, overlaying his and holding them to her, lest he shift in his sleep and remove them. She wanted him touching her, wanted him this close, cherished the possessiveness which his hold signified.
How much had changed in just one night.
She felt him stir, felt the answering pressure to her burrowing as he pressed against her and his arms clung more tightly, his embrace growing more insistent. His palm opened slightly over her breast and began a lazy kneading which brought her nipple to instant tautness. Her eyes fluttered closed as she savored the intimate touch. The arm which had held her waist loosened its grip, and drifted up and across her stomach, the diamond-hard nails barely skimming her flesh, raising goosebumps, teasing her with the promise of more enticing touches. Slowly the hand descended to the crisp curls at the apex of her thighs. She wanted to open her legs to accommodate a deeper stroking, but his legs curled around hers and she found she couldn’t move as she wished. Instead, she relaxed, letting him control the moment.
Despite her inability to part her legs, his insistent fingers found their way between her thighs and grazed the edges of her hidden flesh. She moaned as she felt him stroke her there, her body melting moistly into his touch. He caressed her tenderly, heating her blood more and more until she quivered within his embrace. Her head fell forward against the pillow, rocking from side to side, her breath quickening into soft panting cries, one word only forming again and again on her lips: Vincent!
His topmost leg released her from her voluntary imprisonment, and his foot rubbed up and down her ankle and calf, massaging lightly, while his hands continued to work their magic upon her. Then he let his toes insinuate themselves between her legs, and as she opened to him, his upper leg wrapped around her lower one. With a fluid motion he pressed his body even more firmly against her. For a long time she had trembled at the feel of his manhood growing ever more pronounced against the small of her back, and now that he moved against her, she knew the greater heat of his heavy, surging erection, could almost sense the pulsing of the thick vein which ran its length. He was rock hard and ready, yet he’d made no sound, not even a soft moan, to let her know of his need. He was subsuming his desire to give her the pleasures of his touch, but she wouldn’t allow him to sacrifice his own pleasure any longer.
Reaching behind her, she caught the thick length of him and squirmed up slightly in the bed so that she could guide him between her thighs, tight and close to the center of her heat. He moaned then, finally, at the hot, wet contact, and stroked her deeply. Both his hands now moved upon her breasts, kneading the firm flesh, tugging at the hardened peaks, and his mouth was suddenly at the juncture of neck and shoulder, sucking on the tender flesh there, his sharp teeth pricking her ever so slightly, causing her trembling to compound until she was shuddering uncontrollably from his unparalleled sensual assault.
Her cries were no longer words, but gasping moans of nearly incoherent pleasure. He left her breasts to grasp her hip with one hand, his manhood with the other, and with a deft, quick twist, he entered her, the thick head of his shaft piercing her sweetly, climbing into her in slow increments, driving her wild to be filled completely with the hot, raw power of his love for her. Her breath was strangled in her throat, the ecstasy of being filled so overwhelmed her. She couldn’t think, couldn’t see, could only feel - every slow inch of penetration, the slick rapture of his claiming of her.
Then, more glorious than all that had gone before, he began to rock, pumping within her with delicious ease, her slick, tight channel presenting no obstacle to his complete and utter domination of her. He held her close and fast, not allowing her to move against him, taking the burden of inducing that sweet friction completely upon himself. His mouth traveled along her shoulder blade and back to the column of her neck, again and again, his mouth open and searching, sucking lightly against her overheated flesh, and one hand was again at her breast, torturing her with a pleasure past compare. She threw her head back against his, and in answer he rested his cheek upon hers, murmuring in his low, raspy purr that he wanted her, all of her, always, that he needed her, needed this, more than breath, more than life. She responded with the only word she could utter: Yes! Yes to anything he wanted, anything he would ask, anything he needed of her. She gave him all, freely, deliriously, whispering over and over that one word.
He moaned in reply, as if he needed to hear the words, as if her body were not already supplying every answer his body craved. His hand left her breast and settled at the pleasure point between her thighs, rhythmically stroking her in time to his deep thrusts, still not letting her move in counterpoint. She reached behind herself wildly, to caress him anywhere she could reach him. Her fingers found his heavily muscled thigh, the tight ripeness of his bottom, and she caressed him, running her fingers down the lean muscled length of him, cupping and squeezing the muscles of his bottom as they clenched and released with his thrusting. The only sounds in the chamber were their soft moans and the slick wet sounds their bodies made as he pumped his needy flesh within her welcoming softness.
She couldn’t believe how long their lovemaking went on - it seemed to her they had been locked in this intimate embrace for hours - his body, his hands, his mouth drawing every succulent ounce of pleasure from their encounter. He was immense inside her, filling her thickly, deeply, so that she knew she would never again feel complete without him within her. And still he surged, still he moved - hard and insistent - as his fingers played against her sensitive nub, drawing her orgasm from the depths of her being until she could contain neither the shattering culmination nor the sobbing moan of completion which was forced from her throat by the staggering immensity of the sensations he brought to her. She wept then, for the joy of it, for the power of it, for the fulfillment of more than expectations, more than belief, more than dreams.
He held her as her completion wracked her, his own movements stilled for the moment, allowing her to experience every starburst without his insistent presence insinuating into her concentration. She rubbed sinuously against his fingers, seeking to draw out the pleasure even longer, this incredible euphoria she had never known before, not even last night with him - their first time, when she had felt such bliss she had thought no other such experience could approach it. Instead, this morning, he had shattered that belief and given her a culmination even more profound, more intense, more sheer perfection than she had known possible.
Finally, the sparks of satisfaction diminished and she sagged against his restraining arms, replete and nearly unconscious with pleasure. Only then, when he was sure he had given her every drop of bliss possible, did he begin to reach for his own. Now he allowed her to rock against him, giving him the greater friction which he loved so well, even though he’d known it so briefly in his life, and never before last night. She rallied, wanting him to experience the rapture he had so selflessly given her, and she gave him everything in return, drawing groans from him as his sensitized flesh glided within her, the firm muscles of her sleek channel holding him tight and tantalizing him even as they allowed him unrestricted entry into her deepest recesses, the broad head of his manhood pressing against her womb in its demand to become one with her.
He sought to prolong the ultimate moment, but inexorably he pumped harder, his strokes becoming shorter as - finally - he could resist the urge no longer, and he let her body carry him away. He plummeted over the edge of his known world then, his orgasm exploding hotly within her as he cried out his rapture to the universe and his soul took wing.
His spirit soared high, ripe with the knowledge that she loved him, craved him, desired him in this most definitive of human acts. She had taken him fully into her very being, her body begging his to become one, accepting his right to join with her. And almost more incredible than the astounding intimacy of their physical act of love was the soul-deep riveting of spirit and heart which she offered so freely, which he had never thought himself worthy to accept.
Even last night, as much as he had learned of her love for him, he hadn’t truly believed it could be so forever for them. It had seemed a moment out of time, complete and perfect - one perhaps never to come again. But this morning, with almost no words spoken, without even looking into each other’s eyes, they had merged their essences with a completeness and depth which proved that last night was not a triumph of desire over reality, but a true miracle which had opened a whole new world for them both.
His thrusting slowed and at last he lay still within her, his erection hardly diminished even after the ejaculation of his seed. Something about her kept him in a near-constant state of arousal, so that the completion of orgasm was, for him, merely a temporary respite from the soul-deep craving he felt for her. He wondered how she would react when she discovered this - as now it was impossible to hide from her.
Guilt over the evidence of his body’s greediness for her began to overtake his heart, but was dispelled by her gusty sigh as she wriggled herself against him, pressing him more firmly into herself. She was still panting from the effort of the past minutes, but he could feel her smile as she pressed her lips, open-mouthed, against his encircling forearm. "Wonderful," she murmured, pressing back again and again, seeking that rhythm which had so recently given them both such pleasure. "You’re still hard," she whispered, amazement in her voice, then, "Perfect!"
He hugged her tighter and asked in a throaty murmur, "Are you sure?"
"Ummmm," was her only reply, then she rocked against him more insistently, and his manhood surged into full glory once again, within her. But before he lost control over his senses once more, he pulled himself out of her, eliciting a flustered "No!"
His arm, which was embracing her from behind, now tugged her around to face him. Pulling her tightly into his taut frame, he rubbed his love-slick shaft between their bodies. She shimmied up on the bed slightly and eased one leg over him at the waist, so that the broad, thick head of his penis could penetrate her nether lips once more, and settled down on him as he thrust up, accepting him back into her body as she faced him. He closed his eyes with the ecstasy of it, of her sleek muscles drawing him, cradling him within her. How he had marveled last night the first time she had brought him inside her body, sure that his massive erection would crush or savage her tender flesh and astonished, instead, to find that lush heat so welcoming. He had wept at that glorious moment, relief and euphoria warring within him. Now, mere hours later, how easy it was to approach her, knowing her body would eagerly accept that part of him he had always feared was too large for any woman. And not only accept, but lavish with a rapacious slickness which drew him into her depths as if his body had been crafted only to fit hers. His Catherine....
Her arms snaked around him, pulling him closer so that she could squander a profusion of kisses upon his eyelids, his cheeks, his forehead. She dipped her face so that their noses touched - hers pert and perfect, his flat and dusted with fur. She ran the tip of her nose up and down against his, then lapped her tongue out to trace the pink cleft just below his flat nostrils. He stilled, avid for her to continue.
Last night she had found this to be a particularly sensitive spot, something he had not known himself...until her searching tongue had discovered its secrets. She had brought him almost to the point of orgasm by stroking that responsive flesh, using her teeth to delicately part it and burrowing the tip of her tongue to flick against it. Now she began an earnest assault, and he felt his erection burgeon within her in direct response. God, how he loved her every touch! He could drown in the sensations she was arousing in him, so intensely sweet, so piercingly provocative.
She lapped at the pinkness until she could feel his shuddering response, thrilled that she could give him this pleasure. But his mouth beckoned her - that unique, padded muzzle and that deliciously ripe lower lip, the combination of which made kissing him an experience unlike any other - and one which made all others kisses fly from her memory as unworthy of being kept. His were the only kisses she ever desired now: his.
She slanted her mouth against his, laving his lower lip with the flat of her tongue, then running it insistently between his lips. They parted eagerly for her, and she delved within that sweet recess, centering on his tongue, which she stroked feverishly with her own. Needing more, she urged him to twine his tongue with hers, and began sucking lightly on it, pulling it gently into her mouth, where she continued her diligent assault, wanting his tongue to fill her mouth as his erection had last night, when she had first tasted his most private flesh. Her mouth watered now in recollection, and she wished for him here, in her mouth, unwilling as she was to relinquish him from her body.
As if sensing her frustration, he gradually withdrew his manhood from within her, rising and turning so that he was above her. Very slowly he straddled her, until he knelt over her chest, almost but not quite resting upon her. Her eyes widened with delight as he guided his thick shaft towards her mouth. She stared in wonder at its breadth and length, marveling that her own slim body could adjust to such an impressive specimen of manhood. But she allowed the thought to distract her only for a moment, for she almost immediately lifted her face to taste him.
His flesh was hot, slick and wet with the mixture of her moisture and his seed. He tasted musky and marvelous, and she lapped the distillation of their lovemaking hungrily from him. One of her small hands came up to grasp the stalk of his massive erection, holding him still for her loving ravishment. She licked him in a growing frenzy, then sucked him into her mouth with a sudden force that left his knees weak.
He leaned over, hands on either side of her head, and let her have her way with him, fighting the urge to thrust so that she could take the lead in loving him this way. He wanted to come inside her body and not in her mouth, not this time, but would give her this boon if she wished it. However, just as he had sensed her desire to taste him, she seemed to sense his desire to return to the warm embrace of her body, and after a long, delirious torment, she set him free and he lay beside her once more, fitting his body to hers and joining with her again. He groaned as he entered her once more, surprised anew at the ease with which her body accepted his thick invasion. But after the delicious torture of her mouth and tongue, he couldn’t hold back any longer, and he began to thrust hard and deep into her, his hands splayed across her backside to hold her steady and close.
He plunged into her almost wildly, frantic with desire, bucking and driving himself with an abandon he wouldn’t have believed possible before the ample proofs of the night before to allay his concerns. For last night she had urged him, tormented him, compelled him, until his natural caution was finally overcome by the reckless, impassioned need to merge with her. He had, at last, given in, allowing the darker urges of his deepest desires to well up and inundate him...and she had come to no harm. Rather, she had gloried in it, crooning to him of her encouragement, her love, her own profound desire to be taken, ravaged, consumed by him. He had been appalled at his lack of control...after...but she had made him understand that he could let himself go and she would be safe, for his love was stronger than the passionate nature she had unleashed in him. So now, when the fury of his desire blazed and flamed with a white-hot intensity, he knew she welcomed it, that she would come to no harm, that her body’s needs and her heart’s desire were a match for his. And so now he allowed himself to be carried away with the triumphant joy of this mating with the woman he adored, and when his rapture exploded upon him with the volcanic spasms of the most intense orgasm of his life, he flung himself headlong into it, reveling in it, drowning in it, until the last quivering shudder drew the last ounce of semen from his pulsing shaft.
She had clung to him, tenacious and fervent, and now he collapsed against her as he drew great gulping breaths of air into his overtaxed lungs. She pulled him to her breast and rocked him tenderly, until his breathing approached normal once more. He nuzzled into the firm, ripe flesh of her breasts, then let himself slip, still partially aroused, from within her, and he rolled atop her to suckle deeply upon first one, then the other, taut rosy nipple. He felt her tremble and knew her need, but he delayed her gratification while he drew her further into the well of sensuality, now caressing, now sucking, always deliciously tormenting her breasts.
The trembling grew in intensity, and she wrapped her lean legs around one of his heavily muscled ones, rubbing herself impatiently against him. He eased his leg from between hers, then left her breasts and lowered himself slowly upon her, his open mouth trailing hot, wet, gently sucking kisses across her stomach, down her side, to her hip, to the crease of her thigh, and eventually to the curls above her sweet cleft. She was moaning now, lifting her hips to meet his searching mouth, and he laid his cheek against her to allow her excitement to mute a little. She got more control of herself at last, resting back upon the bed, and he lifted his head to look up at her. Her eyes were shut and her head lolled to the side, her tongue slipping out to wet her kiss-swollen lips in a gesture so erotic, so seductive, he nearly rose to capture her mouth once more. Her back was arched sharply so that her breasts were thrust upwards, her whole body begging for his touch. She presented a wanton, open invitation which he could not suppress the urge to accept, and he bent to her nether lips. He brushed his lips against her lightly, tenderly, as if he intended no more than this chaste kiss, and she moaned again with frustration. He smiled, then pursed his lips and blew warm gusts of air upon the pulsing bud before him. Her moans turned into soft, crooning cries which ignited his blood, and suddenly he couldn’t hold back any longer. He pressed his tongue flat upon her there - hard. Her entire body jumped in response, but he held her fast with his fingers on her thighs, and then he moved his mouth over her in earnest, laving her as he had learned to do just the night before, as if with the ease of long practice, although he had never before last night practiced the art on anyone. He closed his eyes and focused entirely on her pleasure, suckling the sensitive bud, nipping it with his teeth - so gently, drowning in the glorious taste of her as her body gave of its moist essence. He almost wished he could delay the completion he knew to be only seconds away now, as he felt her body tense and ready itself, if only to draw out the pleasure of his lovemaking, so intimate, so sensuous. That she would allow him to mold himself to her body like this, to taste her so wantonly, so completely, that she would reveal all her secrets to him so gladly - he could scarcely believe it, had never imagined it to be possible before last night. He would never have asked, but she had read the hopeless hunger within him and offered herself to him this way, so that he knew she welcomed it, and his initial concern that this secret desire might be objectionable evaporated like dew.
The shattering climax which he’d sought to withhold just a moment longer now burst upon Catherine like a white hot nova. Shuddering aftershocks shook her, rendering her already overtaxed muscles as limp as overcooked spaghetti. She was utterly spent, utterly boneless...utterly in love and amazed by the man lying next to her, who had...finally...thrown himself upon his back in an attitude of surrender.
How many times had they made love since last night? She’d lost herself in him so completely, she couldn’t say. Judging by the tenderness of flesh unaccustomed to such exertions and the twinges in muscles she’d forgotten she had, the number was likely in the double digits. Making up for lost time, she thought, in a kind of delirious fog of happiness and satiation.
The jarring ring of the phone on her bedside made them both jump. Glancing at the clock, Catherine wondered who would call her at such an ungodly hour...and on a Saturday morning. It was barely past dawn, after all. She thought for a moment about letting the answering machine pick up, but that might cause even more problems if the person at the other end was concerned enough to call this early. Regretfully, she leaned over the enticing chest now heaving slightly as Vincent lay beside her and scrambled the phone off the hook. Grumpily she answered, "Hello?"
"Cathy? It’s Father. I’m at Peter’s. Vincent was supposed to have visited with you last night, but he hasn’t returned to the Tunnels and it’s past sunrise, so...." The older man’s voice betrayed the worry that any father would have when a child was out past curfew...although the "child" in question was a man in his thirties who was well capable of taking care of himself. Still, recent events might have made Father even more sensitive about safety where Vincent was concerned, so she couldn’t blame him for his anxiety.
Vincent’s eyes had widened as he’d recognized the voice emanating from the earpiece of Catherine’s phone. They shared a half-rueful, half-amused look before Catherine interrupted Father’s explanation by saying, "He’s fine, Father. He’s safe. We...got involved with...some things and...he spent the night. I promise he’ll be fine here with me today, and he’ll be home tonight."
Catherine put Vincent on the phone. After reassuring Father several times that all was well, that Catherine’s apartment was a safe haven during the day, that he’d stay away from prying eyes, and that he’d be home as soon as darkness fell, Father allowed himself to be hung up on. As Vincent returned the earpiece to its cradle, he murmured an apology for "everything" which Catherine pounced upon immediately.
"Don’t you dare try to apologize for anything! After what we’ve shared..." she kissed him soundly, "...and how beautiful it all was..." she slid her fingers slowly down the center of his chest to rest enticingly in the reddish brown curls just above his very prominently jutting penis, "...and how much I don’t want this to end..." she grasped that member very possessively, with deliberate intent, "...I’d better not hear one word of apology from you, or there’ll be..." she squeezed, causing his whole body to twitch in an agony of ardor, "...hell to...."
Vincent had removed her hand from his sensitive flesh, rolled her over, and stopped her mouth with kisses so quickly that she never had a chance to finish her threat...nor did they find a need to speak with words again for some time after.
Catherine received a handmade pair of suede slippers from Vincent that Christmas.
She never wore them.