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

Mirror Image

Angie

 

"Hold … the mirror up to nature; to show her own feature, scorn her own image, and the very age and body of the time his form and pressure."

William Shakespeare

Vincent was passing by the full-length mirror in the bedroom when he stopped mid-step. He turned his head to look at himself and then walked closer for a better look.

Yes, there was no doubt about it, he had developed a slight pot belly.

He sighed. There was very little about his body that he could be proud about, but his physical fitness had been a dependable exception.

Too many cream buns, he thought. He loved them and William made them regularly now. Well, maybe he should let Catherine or little Jacob eat more of them when the inevitable platter found its way into their refrigerator. Either that or he should re-institute his early morning runs along the tunnels.

He looked at himself dispassionately. Certainly, he was not the stuff of female dreams – he was no Heathcliff or Darcy, or even a Micawber. Not even Dickens’ fertile imagination had been able to conjure up anyone remotely like himself. Catherine could say what she would, but the evidence was before him, unvarnished.

He ran his eyes up and down the reflection. Too much hair – that was the worst, he decided. His body was otherwise not unlike other men’s – if he ignored his clawed hands and feet and his leonine face. Well, there was one area which Catherine assured him was extraordinary. He looked at that now. It did not seem over-sized for his body, which after all was large too. Catherine was too generous with her compliments.

He closed his eyes to the reflection and tried to imagine what he would look like without all the hair and with normal appendages. Then he mentally modified his face to give it a little less hair around his cheeks and a more ‘human’ nose. Then he erased the cleft in his upper lip. Yes, now he might approach some acceptable male ‘norm’.

His reverie was suddenly interrupted and he gave an involuntary shudder of delight as he felt Catherine mould her naked self to his back and put her arms around his waist. He loved the feel of her breasts against him – anywhere at all. He opened his eyes and caught her mischievous half-grin in the mirror as she peered around him. Her hands began to stroke upwards and cupped his nipples. He groaned.

"Catherine."

"Vincent, you are beautiful! Stop castigating yourself. Oh … and look, my love."

Vincent looked and stiffened in surprise. Seeing his arousal build from his usual perspective – looking down from above - was quite different from seeing it in a mirror. His penis was emerging from its sheath and coming to attention at an alarming speed. His arousal, which he knew was at least partly Catherine’s, sent fire along his veins. He had never thought that the sight of himself that way would heighten that fire – but it did.

He groaned again as Catherine pressed her pelvis to his buttocks. Despite the hair, or maybe because of it, he was sensitive to the slightest touch. She knew that and loved to see his reaction. His purr began to vibrate his bones and he found himself short of air.

He could almost see his body shake with his rough, pre-coital purr. He’d never noticed that before either. His manhood was engorged to bursting point. He began to panic. His breathing rasped in his ears. He was close to climax.

Then Catherine suddenly moved her hands southwards and captured his column.

"No ….," he managed to gasp before he realized it was too late. He watched in horror as he exploded and his juices went airborne. Catherine moved quickly to face him and now ran her sticky hands all over his rounded belly, then moved to cup his testicles, making him growl and then groan. Then she flicked some of his semen onto the mirror – deliberately.

She looked up at him and smiled. It was an expression he could only describe as wanton – but the bond was transmitting her unreserved love – and desire - for him. He sighed. The relief was wonderful but his legs seemed suddenly made of rubber. He pulled Catherine to him for support, felt the strength in her small frame.

She spoke into his chest, her voice deep with passion. He knew she was highly aroused now, but couldn’t make himself move from her embrace.

"Vincent, you are a sensual man with a prowess – and stamina - that any other man would envy. And I’ll prove it. Come back to bed. Forget the mirror. It has received the only payment it deserves."

She extracted herself from him and took his hand. He let himself be drawn back to the bed. As if he would have resisted anyway. Then, just as Catherine had said, he proved he was far from spent.

Afterwards, Catherine again ran her hand over his slightly rounded belly. She seemed to find it fascinating – and the sensations he could feel from her were making him purr even louder than usual.

He had never thought of a mirror as an erotic device. Beauty – or sexual attraction – was obviously in the eye of both beholders, he thought wryly.

Maybe he wouldn’t have to give up the cream buns after all.

END