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

Less is More


Make less thy body hence, and more thy grace

- William Shakespeare

Vincent stood in the bathroom of the brownstone, dripping after his shower. A light breeze from the window was marvelously cooling on his wet pelt. It was a hot day and the thought of putting on clothes again was unpleasant. However, he had to cook supper – in an even hotter kitchen – so something was required.

Then his smiled. Of course! He patted himself just dry enough so as not to leave wet footprints on the hardwood floors, and padded into the bedroom.

Now where had he put that? Catherine had bought it for him soon after Jacob’s birth, a gift for that precious part of him, she’d said, chuckling as she related how she had had to search high and low to find the largest and stretchiest model.

Vincent rooted through his dresser drawers, one by one, coming up empty-handed. Frustrated, he looked around, knowing that he had seen the confounded thing somewhere, but unable to remember exactly where. His eyes fell on the full length mirror and … there it was, hanging from the brass knob on the top. One of Catherine’s jokes, no doubt, but he had accepted its presence and thought no more about it.

Now he took it down and stretched the pouch experimentally between his hands. Yes, that should be adequate. He carefully positioned it and tied it on, then glanced in the mirror. It was bright red and heightened rather than hid anything, he thought. But that was obviously the point, like the old Elizabethan codpieces. He smiled and went down to the kitchen.

He put on a big, bib apron and began making a curry from the left-over leg of lamb they had eaten the day before. He had turned on the burner under the pot, and was cleaning up the utensils and counter, when he heard the ‘snick’ of the basement door. Catherine had returned from her visit Below with baby Jacob. He heard her come up the stairs and then through the door and along the corridor to the kitchen. He was still holding a dripping wash cloth, so turned to give her a smile and a blast of love down their bond. She looked at him lovingly.

"I’ll take the baby upstairs. He’s tired," she smiled, turning away to do just that. He heard her padding up the stairs.

Catherine managed to keep her astonishment in check as she looked at the furry behind of her husband, peeking out from behind the white apron. Was he wearing what she thought he was? At last? It was a hot day, so that must be the explanation. He wasn’t particularly modest, but he seemed reluctant to experiment with obviously sexual accoutrements.

She fairly bounced up the stairs with Jacob and put him in his cradle. He would not need feeding for a little while, so there was plenty of time for some fun.

She searched for something he had bought for her in return for what he was wearing. Catherine had not told him that Jenny had been with her when she bought his gift and knew that Vincent had asked her friend to buy his own. Jenny had ribbed her, but had finally given up asking if they had modeled the outfits.

There it was. Catherine held it up in front of the mirror and speculated that she was a little better endowed these days, now that she was feeding the baby. But it should still work. It was quite stretchy. And the same bright red as Vincent’s.

She put it on and tied the strings. She was just about to turn away when she saw Vincent behind her in the mirror’s reflection. She hadn’t even heard him come up the stairs. She took a moment to admire what she saw there, then turned to him.

She knew his eyes were burning at her, but she gave him a slow look up and down his delightfully hirsute, well-muscled body, before meeting them.

"Catherine," he mumbled, holding out his arms. She moved into them and hugged him. He smelled slightly of curry – good enough to eat. She ran her hands around his backside, felt his codpiece press into her belly. Their joint arousal was now singing along their bond. But she wanted to enjoy the moment a little longer. She stepped away from him and he let her go, reluctantly.

She moved to stand next to him and they gazed at their full reflections in the mirror. Neither could speak for a while.

Catherine found her voice first.

"Vincent, you look absolutely divine."

His eyes caught hers in the mirror. He looked abashed. "Catherine, I had never realized how erotic such minimal clothing could be. I’m humbled."

"Oh, I don’t think you’re that," she whispered, shifting so she could put a hand on his well-filled pouch and stroking what was now obviously eager for release.

Vincent growled lightly, closed his eyes and groaned. He felt Catherine press against him and cupped his hands around her bottom.

"Now what?" he gasped, wondering if he would explode. "Will the magic be lost if we remove these delightful things?"

"Not a chance, Vincent."

Over the next few minutes, they proved it.