(This story is written strictly for the free enjoyment of fans of the "Beauty and the Beast" television series. No copyright infringement is intended.)

Heart of Hearts

Angie

"That not impossible she
Shall command my heart and me"
- Richard Crashaw

Catherine and Vincent were reading in the brownstone’s den. It was a cool evening, so the fireplace was lit. The children were upstairs, fast asleep.

Catherine was trying to concentrate on a book about Elizabethan life, but kept getting distracted by the sight of Vincent’s hair gleaming and shimmering in the firelight. She loved his hair, loved to play with it, brush it, wash it, feel it against her. And not just his head hair. His hirsute body was soft with fur-like hair. He was better than a teddy bear to snuggle up to. And that special part of him – well, there was simply nothing else to compare it to.

Reluctantly, Catherine returned to her book. She was trying to find some inspiration for the upcoming "Secret Valentine" party Below - and Shakespeare’s time seemed a likely place to find it.

Vincent caught Catherine’s distraction and knew himself the cause. It embarrassed him, even as it made him warm. He was grateful she didn’t say anything. Compliments made him uncomfortable and he had always let silence respond for him. What could he say? He forced himself to concentrate on the book of Goya paintings he was enjoying, since he sensed that Catherine was trying not to be distracted. He was sure they’d make up the time later – and that thought made him a shade warmer yet.

Catherine’s eyes caught a word beneath a line drawing and she almost blushed. It was a full frontal picture of an actor in Shakespeare’s time. They wore gaiters and short jackets, clearly revealing what most men thought of as their best asset. But it did more than reveal – it emphasized. Why on earth, she wondered? Did men back then actually like to draw attention to that part? She read a little further and discovered that the so-called "codpiece" had come into being because men’s clothing, whether pants or gaiters, did not join in the middle, at least in the front – presumably to allow fast access and egress. The codpiece filled that requirement. That got her thinking.

She knew the tunnel men wore drawstring pants and seldom wore underwear, preferring a gauze panel that Annabelle, the tunnel seamstress, had devised. It kept their nether regions cool while they did the heavy work the community always had in abundance. However, a codpiece might be of interest for the more romantic men in the community. Tied on with strings, it would be comfortable and practical - and sexy too. It might be good for swimming, even – although everyone seemed to bathe nude.

She had bought Vincent a g-string once, but he had not yet modeled it. He seemed embarrassed by such sexual devices. Maybe this would be a way to ease him into them. Of course, he would need a rather larger-than-normal one, but she was sure she and Annabelle could create something. She wanted to make a number of them for the men as gifts to hand out at the light-hearted supper celebration in the Great Hall. Everyone had a holiday to enjoy treats of various kinds. Even the children took part, decorating a cake that they would eat at lunch time. Later, one of the older children would watch over them in the dormitory for that one night, so their parents could have their chambers to themselves.

Catherine smiled and glanced at Vincent. He shifted, so she knew he had caught some of her excitement. But he couldn’t read her mind, so he would have to remain in ignorance for a while longer. She would go and see Annabelle in the morning.

The next day, while Vincent was in the work party cleaning up the Great Hall. Catherine went into Annabelle's sewing sanctum to discuss codpieces. The dwarf got a huge smile on her face when the topic was broached and Catherine grinned.

"Do you have any suitable fabric?" she asked.

"Well, almost all the fabric in that box over there is much-washed and all cotton. It would be perfect," Annabelle stated, pointing at a large bin. "All we need is a template - and I guess we’d better make them all the same size or there’ll be comments."

Catherine realized she hadn’t considered that aspect and frowned.

"Oh, don’t worry," Annabelle told her, reading her mind. "There are always ways to allow stretch. Your Vincent will not be short-changed. Anyway, you can make him a special one as your personal gift."

The tiny woman let out her maniacal hoot and Catherine had to sit down before her legs gave out as she joined in. When they both had themselves back under control, they got to work designing the new underwear, then cut out about three dozen of them, enough for every adult male in the community. Catherine found a piece of scrap red silk, which she purloined for herself, not without a friendly smirk from Annabelle. They cut the fabric pieces across the bias, to allow plenty of stretch. Annabelle made up yards of ties and attached them to the hemmed pieces at a speed that amazed Catherine, particularly as the sewing machine was a manual one with a foot treadle. As a final touch, they cut out little shapes of contrasting fabric to decorate the front – hearts, lightning bolts, sunbursts, swirls, stars, arrows and crescents. Catherine had gained enough experience by the end to do a special one for Vincent in a few minutes.

The neat little pile of finished codpieces was very satisfying. Since it was unlikely anyone would guess what they were, they did not need to be wrapped. The fabric triangles were rolled carefully and tied with the ties. Catherine carried her "gifts" back to the brownstone in a covered basket and stored them away out of sight, keeping her own on top. Then she went down to the dining room for lunch. She was a little late by that time and Vincent was already seated. Their children were being watched over by the day’s dorm mother and were noisily consuming sandwiches at the other end of the hall. Vincent had saved a place for her, and she sat down gratefully after she had captured a sandwich and a bowl of fruit salad. Vincent had a pot of tea and a cup already waiting for her.

She leaned over to plant a kiss on his cheek before she sat down. He had washed his face, but his clothes and hair looked as if he had been caught in a dust devil. She wondered whether he was finished with the work and if a joint bath might be in their future. She felt a bit grubby too.

Vincent grinned at her and then gave his full attention to his food. Not much could distract him from that, she reflected. Come to think of it, she was a bit obsessive about William’s fare herself. She never missed a meal anymore. No more plastic sandwiches at a desk piled with file folders. She didn’t miss that aspect of her old job at all – or anything else, come to think of it. Her work for the Foundation she had set up was very satisfying – and she was able to help many people, without the danger and long hours.

As they sat sipping their tea, Catherine sighed.

"Are you finished cleaning the Hall?" she asked, hopefully.

Vincent caught the implication behind the question.

"Yes, Catherine. I didn’t want to miss lunch, so I didn’t wash properly, but a bath is my next priority. You?"

"As if you didn’t know," she challenged him, and was rewarded with a grin and a look that made her crotch throb.

"I sensed you were enjoying yourself this morning – and wasn’t sure I could compete with that."

"Vincent, the day that you can’t compete with anything I could dream up, will be the day we are both in our coffins."

He snorted and coughed, and several people close by chuckled. Catherine enjoyed the banter that livened the atmosphere in the dining hall – and Vincent contributed his share of it. He and William had a ongoing quip contest.

Their children were safely in classes for the rest of the day, so there was nothing more demanded of their parents for a few hours. They strolled leisurely to Vincent’s chamber, undressed, grabbed their robes and a pile of towels and went down the stairs to the bathing chamber behind the stained glass window. It’s glow through the steam always made Catherine feel as if she was in a mystical place, perhaps a bath in old Atlantis.

They let themselves relax a while, floating above the stone ramp, then Catherine slid down a little to stroke what was floating above the water at attention. Vincent groaned and reached over to probe for her secret place with a long-nailed finger. She gasped as he found it. Without further ado, she rolled herself on top of him, forcing him to hold onto the sides of the ramp to prevent them sliding into deeper water. It was a position she loved to see him in – head back and arms wide apart – almost wanton, she thought. She maneuvered herself onto his hardened organ and he raised his hips to meet her with a massive sigh.

They lay like that for some minutes, each enjoying the warmth of the other and merged heart and soul. Finally, Vincent slid himself higher so that he could let go of the stone and hug Catherine to him. He cupped her bottom and felt her quiver in delight. She moved to suck a nipple and fire ran along his veins. He wound his legs around hers and lifted her closer to him. They were soon creating sensuous waves in the pool until their joint orgasm rolled over them and they let it carry them into a serene place that was theirs alone.

Catherine didn’t want to move. Vincent’s juices were warm inside her and now he was purring. He hugged her to him and planted a soft kiss on her lips. No words were necessary.

…

Valentine’s Day was in full swing and the lunch party for the children had produced a cake decorated to distraction. Catherine took one look at it and decided only a child could eat something so horribly-coloured. They certainly felt no such qualms and left nothing but crumbs – even after a bowl of special alphabet soup that had spawned a spelling contest and the miniature cheese scones William had made for the occasion.

Afterwards, the children had drawn names and every one had received a hand-made paper valentine. Jamie had kept the teens busy for the past week making them. They were all pinned to a big cork board for everyone to admire. This was followed by an afternoon of games and singing. By early evening, the children had fallen into an exhausted sleep, exactly as planned.

When the adults began their celebration in the Great Hall, it soon became raucous. Everyone had to open one of the two gifts they had been given. One was "secret", the name chosen by lot from one of two baskets on the table. The other gift was from a lover or friend. Father and Catherine teamed up to officially sort and hand out the gifts. Her cod pieces had been distributed as "secret" gifts and several men had opened them and cheekily tied them on outside their pants. The others soon followed and the hall was loud with laughter.

Vincent hadn’t been given one of the codpiece packages, to his great relief, but a rather heavy "secret" gift. There were gales of laughter when he opened it and he looked around ruefully. It was an oversized ceramic representation of a cream puff – so real-looking, it made his mouth water. He wondered who had made it but when he raised his eyebrows and looked around, no one would admit to it. His love of William’s special dessert was renowned. He suspected the gift had been the result of a conspiracy – with William at the head. The big cook was watching him and his smile nearly reached his ears.

"I’m glad this has eyes on it, or I might try to eat it – with dire results," he remarked loudly. "I’d be forced to eat nothing more challenging." There were hoots of laughter, William’s booming voice loudest of all.

"Vincent, you don’t need any excuses," William then yelled from across the room.

The eyes on the thing were the plastic type that Catherine called "googly". It would make an excellent paperweight, he thought. He was considering how to rebut this joke, when William’s secret gift made the hall ring with guffaws. It was an oversized purple codpiece decorated with an irregular green patch which had "OOPS" embroidered on it in big letters. Vincent didn’t have to think too hard to know who had made that. He looked at Annabelle and heard her hoots of laughter ring around the hall.

The other gift he decided to open in his chamber. It would be personal from Catherine and he preferred privacy for such things. Anything she dreamed up always aroused him.

…

Later, he looked at the little package as he sat in his chair. Catherine was helping William gather and rinse the dishes and pots for the official detail in the morning – they had decided that no work would be done that evening. She would be back soon. He had to open it before she returned.

He slit the brown paper tie with a fingernail and opened the package. It was a small folded piece of fabric and he grabbed one corner of it and held it up. A handkerchief! That gave him a moment’s puzzlement. He never used a handkerchief, although many in the community did, including Catherine. He didn’t get colds or sniffles – although, he had to admit, his nose ran when he got emotional and cried. That hadn’t happened often, though. Had she noticed?

It was a very pale blue, the edge carefully overstitched. In a semi-circle near the middle, between a tiny red rose and a white, she had carefully embroidered ‘Here is no time for tears’.

Vincent looked up. Milton – from Samson, he guessed. Well that answered his question. He put the handkerchief to his nose and nuzzled it. It was lovely and soft and had her scent. What to do with it? It was such fine fabric it folded up to almost nothing. There was only one place he could put it and have it available if he needed it, and that seemed singularly appropriate now. He took off the pouch containing his rose and extracted it, gave it a kiss, then wrapped it carefully in the handkerchief. It was a tight fit in the pouch now, but he felt better knowing the rose was protected against bumps. He never took it off and if anything should happen to it, he would never forgive himself.

Catherine came in then and he got up to embrace her. She had opened his gift at the party and put them on - a pair of quartz crystal earrings to match her necklace. Her secret gift had not yet been opened. It lay on his table, and she pick it up after they exchanged a deep kiss.

She unwrapped the tiny paper package and giggled. It was a sewing kit in a small leather case, complete with miniature scissors, several colours of thread on a wooden spool and a tiny wooden holder with two needles inside. A needle threader was pushed into a special loop. On the outside had been burned ‘a stitch in time, saves nine’.

"It’s lovely – and appropriate," she murmured. "I should carry it around with me. I’m always finding loose buttons and tiny holes in things. Maybe I should make a pouch for it. I know how."

She touched his rose pouch and then did it again, pushing on it a little, then looking at him questioningly. Vincent nodded.

"I thought it the best place to keep the handkerchief, Catherine. Then it will be with me always. Thank you. It’s beautiful."

"Well, you never seem to use a handkerchief, Vincent, but you should have one. Oh, I have one more gift for you."

She gave him a tie-wrapped package. He knew what it was, of course. He had seen a lot of them just recently. He opened it and found a codpiece of generous proportions, in bright red silk with little white hearts all over it. He was immediately grateful she hadn’t given it to him in public. He felt his face flush.

"Catherine, I think you have over-estimated the size of my ... um … equipment."

"Oh, I don’t think so, Vincent. I’ve seen it often enough, after all. You don’t see it from my perspective. But there’s only one way to be sure."

Catherine ran to the chamber door and let down the privacy rug, then began stripping off her clothes. The sight made Vincent warm and he put the codpiece on the table and obligingly began removing his own clothing. Catherine picked up the triangle, and giving him a significant look, deftly tied it onto him, stroking his inner thighs as she ran the centre tie underneath. He groaned. The codpiece filled and she looked at him triumphantly.

"See, Vincent? I knew you wouldn’t be able to keep calm while I put it on. I’d say it’s just about perfect."

Vincent ground himself against her and groaned again.

"Catherine, you are a genius, but I cannot thank you properly while wearing this."

The codpiece was quickly untied and Vincent scooped her up and carried her to his big bed.

Later, Catherine reflected that the codpiece would have limited use, but Vincent would no doubt be willing to model it as often as she liked, if this was to be the outcome. She hadn’t missed his blush at the gift either. Although she would never deliberately try to embarrass him about matters of love – and she knew he was uncomfortable with compliments - his reaction aroused her like nothing else could, except perhaps his own arousal at such times.

She smiled. Vincent caught her sense of mischief and covered her lips with his own. In a very short time, they were beyond embarrassment and fully committed to enjoying each other in as many positions as possible – and that was a great many.

"Oh, my heart," Vincent whispered as she trapped his penis between her breasts and he struggled to hold onto his juices a moment longer.

"My love," Catherine whispered back, shuddering as a long finger found her secret place and she felt suddenly unable to hold back her response.

They soared into bliss and then lay pressed together under the bedclothes, their breath soft and their dreams as entwined as their limbs. Two hearts beat as one.

END