Chapter Two

She woke to find her pants being removed by her single-minded lover. Her body was preparing itself for him already. He raised her to her knees facing the back of the couch.

"No!" Catherine quickly stood up and tumbled over the back of the couch, turning to face him. This was no dream. "We need to talk."

He stared at her a moment, surprised by her action. "Vincent is for talking," he said quietly as he rose and leapt over the couch to stand facing her. He looked at her intently. "You have better uses for me."

Catherine’s vaginal muscles clenched, traitorously agreeing with him. She gasped. He grasped her arms, growling deep in his throat, and pressed his open mouth to her neck. She cried out with desire. He cupped her bottom with his hands and pressed her into his erection. She cried out again and began to pant. He released her and bent her forward over the couch. Yes! her body screamed. "No!" she shouted aloud, pulling out of his grip, and tumbled back over the couch, still panting.

"Why do you refuse me when this is what we both want?" he snapped.

"Please, Vincent—"

"I am not Vincent!" he said impatiently.

"Then who are you?" she asked, trying to regain her composure and pleased that she had him talking.

He sighed. "You may call me Beast." His eyes roamed over her body unashamedly.

"I will not!" she said indignantly, cutting short the new wave of desire caused by his ogling.

"It’s what he calls me, the weak fool. Why should it disturb you?" He circled the couch, trying to reach her.

Catherine circled as well, to keep her distance. "You are not a beast! And Vincent is neither weak nor a fool!" she declared with certainty.

"Have I not yet adequately demonstrated that I am a beast?"

"You have demonstrated passion." She stopped, letting him reach her. "Would you harm me, Beast?" The last word dripped with sarcasm.

He gazed down at her with fire in his eyes. She swallowed, her desire rising again. "I will have you this night, woman! You want it, as I do. I have no need to harm you."

She trembled with barely controlled passion. "Do not call me ‘woman’! My name is Catherine."

As he said her name, she knew she’d be unable to avoid giving in to him. He pulled her into his arms and brought them both to the floor in one swift movement, then maneuvered her into his favored position.

She crawled away from him, rising to her feet again. "No, not yet!"

He roared in frustration.

"Take your clothes off."

"You are wasting time!" he bellowed.

"Take them off!" she commanded.

He glared at her, but stood and began to comply, throwing his cloak to the floor, and beginning to undo his shirt. Catherine knelt at his feet to unlace his boots. He growled with desire, leering at her lustfully.

"Take them off," she repeated firmly, leaving no room for argument.

He growled again, narrowing his eyes, but continued disrobing. Catherine finished the boots and sat down on his cloak to watch him, idly unbuttoning her shirt. He was magnificent! His muscles were well defined, even covered as they were by tawny fur. His every movement was graceful, and he clearly had no modesty about his body. He was everything she’d imagined. She licked her lips as he removed his pants, tossing away her blouse. She lay back, spreading her legs, awaiting him eagerly.

He turned to look at her and snarled hungrily, dropping to his knees at her feet. She held out her arms to him, raising her knees and separating her legs further. He hesitated, his eyes devouring her body. "Turn over," he said finally.

Catherine wanted to face him this time, but deciding that he’d made enough progress for one night, she complied, slowly, watching his eyes as long as she could, before presenting her bottom to him. He quickly covered her body with his own, wrapping his arms around her middle, groaning with relief. Catherine groaned along with him, relishing the feel of his furry body against her skin, raising a hand to stroke the firm, furry muscles of his arm. The embrace lasted only a moment.

He rose, sliding his hands down her inner thighs to separate them, and pulling her bottom back over his upper legs to his hips, sliding his shaft inside her with a mutual, and loud, groan of relief. He paused for the briefest moment before pulling Catherine upright, one hand on her pelvis to keep their bodies tightly together, the other gliding over her belly and breasts. She leaned her head back and turned toward him, seeking a kiss. He pressed his temple to hers, moaning softly, then pressed his canines to her shoulder, applying light pressure. She gasped on inhale and groaned on exhaled. He began to move within her. He squeezed her breast firmly, then released it and gently pushed her forward again. Catherine coupled with him as enthusiastically as before, stroking the area of his knees, which was all she could reach, and squeezing his legs with her own. Rational thought was barely possible, but she thought his thrusts were gentler this time, slower, his hold on her hips lighter. It didn’t last. He bent over her, gripping her shoulders to get better leverage, thrusting deeply, all the way in. She grunted involuntarily, arching her back in ecstasy, her hands pushing against the floor, his cloak balled in her fists. His hands returned to her hips, gripping them firmly. He ground into her over and over until their ecstasy exploded into a million pieces.

As the tingles began to fade, she reminded herself not to fall asleep this time. She wrapped her arms around his, which again encircled her. The sound of his breathing lulled her, and together with the extreme relaxation and fatigue of her body, it was a struggle to remain awake. After a few minutes, he stirred, lifting his head from its resting place on her shoulder. He sat upright and again pulled her back to rest against his chest, his arms crossed over her belly, cupping her breasts, his fingers gently exploring her nipples.

Catherine moaned softly, relaxing against him. "Oh, Vincent...."

His hands returned to her hips. "I am not— Vincent," he said, thrusting twice for emphasis. "Call me Beast," he said, lifting her from his flaccid length and rising. "I must go. The weak fool will return again soon to hide me away." He began to dress quickly.

A bit stunned by the sudden loss of skin contact and the equally sudden change in his mood, she sat watching him for a moment before shaking herself and speaking to him. "Vincent— I mean, Beast. Why are you here?"

He chuckled. "I should think that would be obvious," he said wryly, pulling on his boot. "I must confess, Catherine, I thought you were a better match for him. Your undiluted, unconcealed passion has surprised me. Pleasantly." He winked at her.

She sighed in frustration, somewhat embarrassed, and reached for her blouse. "But why are you here now? Just this past week? Didn’t you want me from the beginning?" She began buttoning.

He eyed her lustily again. "Yes, I wanted you from the beginning. He is too weak to take you for himself, to even tell you that he wants you, the fool, and yet he wants you with every fiber of his being. It’s driving him mad." He chuckled again. "Literally. His desire grows stronger. Yours grows stronger, mine does. If he will not have you, I will. Eagerly. He has lost the power to keep me locked away at will." He looked at Catherine pointedly and held out his arms to her.

She took his hands, confused. He pulled her to her feet, moved her aside, and plucked his cloak from the floor, draping it about his shoulders. "I must go, my Beauty. You wear me out."

"Wait," Catherine pleaded. "There are more things I need to understand."

"Next time." And he disappeared through the terrace doors.

***

Catherine’s appointment with Peter was the following afternoon. She sat glumly in his office waiting for him. She had no reason to doubt what Beast/Vincent had told her was true. (Ooh, and she hated calling him that!) She was more worried than ever.

Peter entered and greeted her with a smile. "Cathy, it’s always a pleasure to see you. Let me just wash my hands and I’ll be right with you."

She sighed, wondering where to begin.

"Well, that’s not a happy sound," Peter remarked. "I haven’t heard such a big sigh from you since —" He turned, seeing how obviously upset she was. "Hey... what’s wrong?" He sat down and listened.

"Well," she said shakily. "I was just here for one reason, but now there’s two."

"Ok."

"First, I need you to give me a prescription for birth control pills and not ask a lot of questions," she said staring at the floor.

He raised his eyebrows and paused a moment in surprise. "All right," he acquiesced finally, "but you understand there are a few questions I’ll need to ask."

"I’m expecting my period any day now," she said tersely, not meeting his eyes, reaffirming that she didn’t want to discuss it.

He smiled. "All right. And what’s the other reason that brings you here?"

She looked into his eyes, so caring and comforting. "Oh, Peter, I’m so worried!" She stopped short of blurting about Vincent. "A friend of mine is—" She stopped, began again. "If you had a... an important conversation with someone and the next day they didn’t remember it at all, what would you think?"

"Hmm. How old is this person?"

"Not that old. I’m sure it’s not Alzheimer’s or senility or anything like that."

"Did this just happen the one time?"

She shook her head. "No. Three times now."

"And this person wouldn’t ordinarily forget such things?"

She shook her head.

"Is this person under unusual stress lately?"

"It sure seems like it!"

"Your friend isn’t suicidal, are they?"

"I don’t think so. I hope not."

"Any violent tendencies?"

"Ah... I don’t think so," she lied.

"Good. Well, I would say for sure this person could use your love and support right now. If they’re able to talk to a therapist, that might be a good idea. I think I recommended Dr. Grafton to you once. He still has good word of mouth. Help your friend as best you can, and try not to draw attention to their lapses."

Catherine left a short time later in a quandary. She thought Dr Grafton might be able to help, but how much could she tell him? She certainly hadn’t been able to tell him much the last time. Unless things got worse, she was inclined to think it was too great a risk. Anyway, she knew what she had to do. Somehow she had to get Vincent to believe he wasn’t two separate people. That’s all. She sighed.

***

Catherine decided to try and visit Vincent again that evening. She found him waiting at the threshold.

"Catherine."

"Oh, Vincent!" She melted into his arms, holding him tighter and for considerably longer than she usually did. He responded, after a pause, by wrapping his arms more closely around her and pressing his mouth to the top of her head. "Mmm, this is nice," she crooned. Finally, they separated.

"You’re worried," Vincent said. "What’s happened?"

She gazed at him intently. "I’m worried about you, Vincent."

"About me?" he asked, surprised.

She nodded. "You work so hard, and I know your family means well, but I think they unintentionally take advantage of your generosity."

He shook his head. "I give my time and energy freely, Catherine," he said, puzzled.

"I know you do. But I worry that you don’t take time just for you."

"But I do." They held one another’s gaze for a long moment, before Vincent continued. "You’re right, Catherine. I should try to make more time to be with you."

"Well, I need to do that myself." There was another brief silence. "Vincent, you know you can tell me anything, don’t you? Anything at all."

He nodded hesitantly.

She took his hands in hers. "You’re the most important part of my life, you know."

"Catherine, are you certain it’s me you’re worried about? Has something happened?"

"Well... honestly, Vincent, yes. Something has happened."

"Tell me."

"I can’t. I think this is something you have to tell yourself." He gazed at her in silence, obviously baffled. She brought his hands to her lips and kissed them.

"Do you have time to go for a walk?" she asked in a lighter tone. He nodded. She smiled. "Good. You can tell me all about your pipe emergency the other day." They had a nice, normal time together, holding hands on their walk, and stopping to chat with a number of the tunnel folk. Catherine deliberately tried to kiss him when they said goodnight, but he turned his head and hugged her instead. She wished she knew if that was deliberate, or just habit.

***

Beast removed his clothing before joining Catherine in bed. It had obviously pleased her the last time and he’d found he enjoyed it himself. He molded his body to hers, squeezing her hip with his left hand, and her breast with his right, his arm tucking underneath her. She moaned softly, waking. "Vincent?"

"Beast."

"Mmm." She tried to turn to face him, but he held her tighter. "It was hard not to interrupt your time with him tonight," he said softly as he begin to rock his hips against her bottom, still caressing her breast.

Her mind was clouded by sleep and growing arousal, and she blinked a few times, trying to clear it. "Can you do that? Just... take over any time?"

"Not any time, but increasingly, yes. If he had brought you to his chamber...." He growled lustfully, sliding his hand up her thigh and back, removing her nightgown from his path and resumed undulating his hips to her buttocks.

Catherine gulped, her heart racing wildly as she imagined him taking her in Vincent’s bed. She struggled against being held so tightly.

"Be still."

"I want my nightgown off!"

He chuckled, pleased, and helped her remove it. She pressed back against him, loving the feel of his furry chest against her back. His erection throbbed hotly against her bottom. "Oh god, I shouldn’t do this!"

"Why not?" he asked, beginning to rub the head of his penis against her wet nether lips.

She moaned, struggling to still think. "How would Vincent feel if..." He slipped just the head of his penis inside her. "If..." He removed it again, and reinserted it. "If..." And again. "Oh, god!"

"What were you saying?" he teased, continuing to exit and shallowly penetrate her. She groaned deeply, pressing back against him in an attempt to have him deeper. "You were saying you want me...." He tormented her, holding back. "Say it." She groaned in frustration. "Say it."

"Yes!" she screamed. "Oh god, yes!" Her affirmations were quickly rewarded by full penetration. Wanting better leverage, he turned onto his back with Catherine atop him, raised his knees and sat her upright. He held her hips above him and thrust upward—long, deep, eminently satisfying thrusts. They climaxed quickly.

As they settled back to earth, he pulled her down to lie atop him. "You’re incredible," she murmured.

"As are you, my Beauty." He squeezed her breasts several times, then slid his hands firmly down her belly and sides, his fingers stopping to explore her vulva, warm and wet, her vagina still enclosing his penis. He continued to rub her nether lips with one hand while placing the other firmly over the joining of their bodies. She spread her knees further apart, enjoying his explorations. Catherine tensed her feminine muscles in an affectionate embrace, and he groaned with pleasure. Warm fluid leak from her body and he dipped his fingers in it, rubbing it on her inner thighs.

Catherine moaned loudly, hardly believing she could want him again so soon. She sat up, moving his hands to her hips, and settled down on her knees, his shaft slipping a bit from her body, and reached down to touch his testicles. He groaned and spread his legs apart. Catherine kneaded firmly, her other hand stroking the base of his penis. She needed him hard again.

She didn’t have long to wait. She felt him quickly firm and grow larger within her. He moaned, squeezing her buttocks, and begin to thrust upward. She pulled away from him, nearly separating their bodies. Turnabout was fair play, after all. He tried to thrust again, and she wrapped a hand around his shaft, preventing full penetration. He grunted in frustration and tried to thrust again.

"Be still," she told him.

He sighed loudly, squeezing her hips more firmly, urging her to proceed. She released him and sank fully down his member. He groaned and tried to be still, as she’d requested. He managed to avoid thrusting his hips upward, but his energy was only redirected to a side to side movement. Which completely enthralled her. She slid up and down his length, not letting him too far out lest his movements cause him to slip out entirely. Their complementary motions continued for some time, until Vincent positively writhed beneath her. She reveled in the taut muscles of her thighs and calves—it had been far too long since she’d thus employed them—but they were beginning to tire. She increased the tempo, a cue to him to join in, which he did. His thrusts, now unleashed, were so large and vigorous, she had only to kneel upright and let him come to her, which he did, over and over. He pulled her hips down tightly to his as another deafening orgasm overtook them. As his vision cleared, he sat halfway to raise Catherine’s knees and pull her close, then he rolled them over on their sides, rocking his hips to hers as the last strains of orgasm faded.