A/N: As this story takes place in "present day" for Catherine and Vincent, I have tried to keep the background steeped in the history of the late 1980's. Any views or concerns reflected by any of the characters are made with that time period in mind.

Their past kisses had given him more confidence, and this time Vincent showed no hesitation in deepening their contact. The gentle pressure of his hand behind her head guided her closer, and soon Catherine found herself pressed comfortably against his form - and not too soon. Her knees suddenly felt weak, as if they might not support her through such an exquisite experience. But Vincent kept her from crumpling, taking her entire weight with his other arm as their kiss continued.

When they finally broke apart, panting for breath, Catherine expected him to move away from her. But he stayed close, unwilling to release her so soon. She smiled languidly, enjoying the closeness, her heart still soaring from his kiss.

"Catherine…" he began before trailing off.

Opening her eyes, she said simply, "Thank you."

Before she could begin to say more, he kissed her again.

If his last kiss had been passionate, this one betrayed a primal hunger only she could fulfill. The arm wrapped around her lower back pulling her even harder against him until she could no longer tell where one of them ended and the other began.

Within her, Catherine felt her own burgeoning desire ignite as her body remembered the feel and scent of him. But before her own imagination and expectations could take her further, she clamped down on them sharply, forcefully keeping herself in the moment. Rather than hope for more, she allowed herself to simply enjoy every aspect of Vincent's kiss.

She focused on the safety of being so thoroughly enveloped in his arms. She delighted at the warmth of his hand at her neck, the pleasant tingles against her skin where his nails barely grazed against her. The feeling of his mouth, unusually shaped and exquisitely crafted, as he explored hers with both reverence and curiosity. And his body… he fit against her as though they had each been molded with the other in mind.

Once Catherine focused on the present, she seemed to lose all sense of time. Gradually, his kiss moved from her mouth to the skin at her neck, her shoulders, her upper arms. At some point, he dealt with her weakened knees by scooping her up, carrying her into the apartment, and laying her on her bed. Stretching out beside her, Vincent continued to kiss and explore her body.

He moved with such confidence, and Catherine enjoyed being swept up in the sensations he elicited from her. She barely felt a twinge of surprise as he peeled the straps of her nightgown down before feasting his eyes on her breasts. Unsurprisingly, his mouth was almost immediately on one nipple, but what did surprise her was the feel of his bare hand on her breast - warm and unabashedly kneading. She groaned despite herself, arching into him and his exquisite touches.

Catherine did not open her eyes until she felt his intentions to move lower down her body. Helping him, she lifted her lower half so he could peel away the night gown and her panties. Belatedly, she wished Vincent would undress as well, but quickly she shoved that thought away.

Still, as if listening intently to her thoughts, he shrugged off his cloak before moving to pull her closer to him as he knelt on the floor at the edge of the bed. While his intention was clear, he hesitated a moment, their eyes locked.

"May I…?" he asked softly, his tone gruff with emotion.

"Please," Catherine begged, not sure if she could survive the disappointment if he pulled away from her now.

This time, Vincent showed no reluctance as he grasped her legs and pulled her entire body towards him. With an air of clear confidence, he set to work to bring her to climax. While the last time, nervousness had made him hesitant, this time he allowed no such concerns. Instead, he touched her with like a master, trying new things and quickly adjusting his technique to account for her reactions. He even alternated using his bare hand against her, both the flat of his palm and the pad of his thumb, although careful to avoid even a graze of his nails.

Her body hummed, as if he were a musician and she his instrument, and Catherine lost track of everything but his ministrations.

When she finally did crest that last climb, an intense orgasm overtook her, causing her muscles to lock and her eyes to shut so tightly she saw stars in the darkness behind her eyelids. The emotions of love and devotion amplified the physical feeling, taking her higher and farther than she could ever having remembered going before. Eventually, as the wall of pleasurable sensation began to recede, she felt Vincent give a self-satisfied growl deep from his throat just before releasing her sex.

Even in the afterglow, Catherine felt the moment of separation keenly and she wondered if he would leave her now. Last time, they had run into trouble at very nearly this point, when she had tried to reciprocate the loving touches he had shown her. Vowing to do better, she put a tight rein on her emotions and waited to see what he intended next.

But rather than leave her, Vincent stretched out on the bed next to her, pulling an extra afghan up over her naked form. Once he had shielded her adequately, he moved to lay behind her, spooning directly up against her body as he pulled her close with an arm stretched out across her belly.

Catherine sighed in contentment, ignoring the way he kept his lower body just far enough from her to avoid contact with what she assumed would be a strained erection.

"Thank you," he whispered quietly.

"I should thank you," she said. "That was wonderful."

"Your body is so beautiful. Everything about you, Catherine…"

He spoke with such reverence that it hurt not to return the compliment, not to assure him of how attractive she found him. But in her fear of pushing him too far, she simply allowed her heart to swell with love, and for a moment, Catherine allowed her imagination to replay their movements together. She gloried in his self-assured kiss, the confident manner in which he had undressed and tasted her body. And most of all, she thought about how masterfully he had brought her to such a satisfying climax.

Absently, his hand rubbed the sheet over her belly, and after a few moments, he moved to cup her breast over the fabric.

"I love you," she told him, the call of sleep pulling to her.

But before Vincent could answer, an unusual sound resounded through the room.

His stomach growled. Loudly.

For a moment, Catherine lay in stunned silence before turning over to look at him. "Was that you?" she asked in amusement.

With a chuckle, he nodded. "I confess, I have been skipping meals of late."

Not wanting to press the reason for his lack of appetite, instead Catherine's mind turned to the pitiful contents of her fridge. Knowing she would find little there to fulfill his appetite, she thought about which delivery places might still be open before she remembered something else.

"The escargot!" she said. "I was about to eat it before you arrived. It isn't a lot of food, I wanted you to try it anyway."

"Catherine, no. You should eat-"

Shaking her head, she drew the afghan up around herself and strode into the kitchen. Gone only a moment, she picked up the small plate and the special, two-pronged fork needed to dig into the tiny snail shells.

"I'm afraid some of the butter sauce may have boiled off earlier, but…"

Sitting on the bed next to him, Catherine grinned as she dug out morsels, holding them out for him to take from the tiny utensil. He did so delicately, initially hesitant to let her see his teeth. But as she slowly fed him piece after piece, her obvious enjoyment of the activity growing, he seemed more comfortable.

Once all the shells were empty, Catherine took the empty plate back to her kitchen. On her return, she turned off the lights in the living room, leaving only a few lit candles behind to drive away the darkness. Outside, the lights of the city provided enough ambience to make her way through the shadows. She stopped for just a moment at the edge of the bed, enjoying the image of Vincent lying so gracefully on his side, his head propped up as he watched her approach. The sight of him seemed so natural, not as if he had only been in this room a handful of times during their relationship. Instead, he looked completely at ease.

Not wanting the night to end, Catherine lay down next to him again, taking no great pains to keep the afghan around her. And while she made no move to touch him, she scooted close enough to be at a close distance in case he had any desire to reach for her.

"Thank you for the food, Catherine. It was delicious." A beat later, he asked with concern, "But shouldn't you eat something?"

"I don't think mere food could offer much fulfillment after what you gave me earlier," she said softly, trying not to blush.

Love swelled through her, and Catherine tried not to focus on what might happen next. More than anything, she wanted to see Vincent in the throws of passion, to help him find a release as wonderful as the one he had given to her. But she also knew that tonight had been a huge step for him. He had approached her, had made all the first moves. While she would always accept his love with enthusiasm and gratitude, on this night, he had offered it freely rather than being prompted.

"Would you stay with me?" she asked, her eyes suddenly growing heavy with fatigue. "For a little while?"

"I should want nothing more," he answered, his voice a deep rumble in the near darkness.

At his ascent, she snuggled more firmly against him, and he put his arm around her again. Wisps of his hair fell across her face, but Catherine paid them no mind as she breathed in his scent. Sinking into the warm, sated feeling, she fell asleep within the warm safety of his embrace.

Catherine awoke at dawn, the early morning light painting the sky with pastel pinks and pale yellows. Looking to her side, she noticed immediately that Vincent was already gone. In his place, he had left a short, handwritten note. On top of it sat one of the snail shells, carefully washed and dried after their meal from the night before.

My love,

I did not wish to wake you. Your beauty is undeniable even in sleep. If you have no plans, please come below tonight.

- V

Smiling, she picked up the shell, cradling it in her hand as she re-read Vincent's missive.

He had asked her to come to him. And rather than couch the invitation in the form of a concert or recital or some other enticement, he had simply requested her presence. Sighing, she lay back on her pillow and smiled in contentment.

After lazing in bed for a while letting her memories roam over the perfect evening they shared the night before, Catherine finally got up to shower and dress for the day. She had plenty of chores and errands to attend to, having largely ignored her personal life by working late every day. Her first order of business was to re-stock her fridge. As she entered her kitchen to take stock, she found that Vincent had carefully washed and dried each of the snail shells from the night before. They sat in a line on a clean dish cloth on her counter.

Smiling, Catherine went about her day.

By the afternoon, she returned to her apartment with an armful of groceries and other bags from her outing. She had specifically purchased a new outfit for her evening below as well as some silk underthings for the occasion. As much as she tried to balance dressing for the cooler temperatures below, Catherine also liked to "look the part" as Vincent's lady love. Thus, she often compromised with long-sleeved and velvet dresses, beaded shawls, and such. Today, she had found a dress made of rich fabric and elegant beadwork, the draped sleeves reminiscent of a medieval gown. The rich, wine-colored material also felt extra soft to the touch, something she knew would appeal to Vincent. Pulling out a pair of soft leather boots from her closet, Catherine smiled as she held the dress up in front of her in the mirror and deemed the outfit complete.

But as she sat on the edge of her bed, Catherine paused for a moment as memory overcame her. However, rather than letting her mind revisit the night before, she suddenly flashed back to the night several weeks earlier when everything had gone so horribly wrong.

She had straddled his lap, she remembered with a pang of guilt, and asked him to remove his vest and sweater. Oh, but he had been so beautiful to her eyes. Whether in spite of his difference or because of them, Vincent had a powerful and muscular frame. His broad shoulders reminded her of a football player, and she chuckled to herself as she suddenly imagined him in the typical shoulder pads and helmet required for the sport.

His fur had been thick but very soft under her fingers, and stroking it had felt as natural as breathing. Sighing, Catherine remembered then the feel of his lower body against hers, the part of himself he kept bound beneath jeans and a wide leather belt. For only a moment, she fantasized about how wonderful he would feel, filling her completely. Her own sex pulsed impatiently at the thought, and Catherine realized with a flash of alarm that he would feel this reaction through the bond.

Forcefully, she reminded herself of how that evening had ended - with her standing watch until daybreak to ensure Vincent did not end his own life in an effort to keep her safe from his passion. The guilt she carried with her from that night weighed heavily, but Catherine bore it willingly. If he could wire himself for self destruction at the faintest hint that he might harm her, she could do the same for herself. She could strip her dreams and expectations of anything more than he might be able to give.

Standing up from the bed, she went about the rest of her chores - sorting laundry for the wash, dusting and paying bills. While she ignored the hum of her body at the thought of spending time with Vincent, her inner yearnings still reached out. By the time the sun had set and Catherine had put on her new outfit and styled her hair, she felt alive with anticipation.

It will be wonderful just to hold him again, she told herself.

Until recently, their innocent embraces had been enough for her, and Catherine reminded herself that they would continue to fill her heart and soul with joy. Pushing aside her expectations for the evening, she focused on finishing her preparations.

He met her at the threshold.

As always, the first sight of her took his breath away as she stepped through the shaft of light which cut through the darkness of her subbasement. Tonight, she wore a dress he had never seen before, and her long hair had been styled into an array of delicate, graceful curls. Above, she likely would have fit in with the throngs of well-dressed New York debutants and upper crust party-goers. But to his eyes, she looked like a princess.

"You look lovely, Catherine," he said as she reached him, her eyes alive with excitement.

"Thank you." Blushing, she looked away for the span of a heartbeat before she smiled back at him. "I'm so happy you asked me to come."

Her elation threaded through the bond, and this time Vincent ducked his head with embarrassment at the fierce strength of her happiness.

"I thought we might simply spend some time together," he suggested. "Perhaps take a walk. William has cooked beef stew for dinner."

"Sounds wonderful," Catherine answered with a smile, as delighted as if he had offered a night at the theater and dinner at the most posh restaurant in the city.

Taking his arm, she allowed her to lead her down to the inhabited tunnels, like a stroll through the park at night. They spoke of light topics, inconsequential things like the progress of the students in his classes and the cases she had been investigating at work.

One moment became tense as Vincent very quietly asked after her friend Justin, but Catherine kept her tone easy and forthcoming as she mentioned his heavy trial schedule. She even told him of Joe's concern that her old law school buddy might be coming on too strong.

"So your boss... he doesn't know the truth?" Vincent asked.

Shaking her head, Catherine affirmed, "No, and it isn't my secret to tell. While I can't see Joe ever doing anything that would harm Justin's career, I can't say how much it would bother him…"

She tapered off, clearly not wanting to delve too deeply into the topic. Vincent sensed from her an utter disregard for society's rules on such matters. But she also seemed hesitant about his own feelings, and Vincent had to admit he had never given the topic much thought. None of his friends below had ever shared having romantic feelings for the same sex, at least not to him, but he also knew that many below could be counted on to have the same conservative reservations as those in Catherine's world.

As he considered it, Vincent could find no such reservations within himself. Far be it for one such as him to care about the differences of others.

"One of our helpers is a nurse," he mentioned quietly. "She works at Saint Vincent's, actually. Many of her patients are gay men."

"AIDS?" Catherine asked, her face a picture of concern.

With a brief nod, he said, "The illness harms so many, and she sees death so often."

"I worry about Justin," she confessed. "Not only must he keep that part of himself secret for the sake of his career, even when he does meet someone… the start of any relationship must be tempered with that threat…"

Thoughtfully, Vincent remarked, "Our helper says that the patients she treats are not all homosexual men, although they have been hit especially hard. Women, men, even children… the disease can reach out and place its deadly fingers on anyone unlucky enough to be touched by it."

Catherine nodded slowly, and the conversation reminded him of their own recent sexual encounters. She paused in their walk and turned to look at him.

"After that night at the park," she said, "my doctor did a full array of blood tests. They did them before and after the surgery on my face. But the tests came back clean. And since then, there hasn't been anyone. Not even Tom, back then..."

Her face burned as she made the admission, but Vincent sensed from her a determination to be completely truthful and open with their relationship. He also paused at the heavy nature of her statement - both her assurance of her own health and also the outward admission that she had been with no one else since the night he had saved her life - not even her boyfriend at the time.

"You know I trust you, Catherine," he said softly. "But thank you for telling me. As I'm sure you have already realized, for me, there has been no one… except you."

Catherine nodded, the truth expressed as a mere formality between them. And without further conversation, they continued down the tunnel, her arm tucked snuggling into his.

Saturday night supper proved to be more than a simple dinner, Catherine realized as they found two seats together at one of the long tables in the dining hall. Rather than serving themselves buffet-style as was typical in the tunnels, this particular meal proved different. Platters of food were distributed to the tables to be passed from person to person. The children acted as servers, the older ones carrying out each course while the youngest lugged about pitchers of water and tea, refilling glasses and mugs.

The courses themselves were not extravagant, beginning with platters of bread and cheese and canned olives. And then, great bowls of stew were passed around for the tunnel goers, filled with more barley and vegetables than meat, but deliciously spiced. But the dessert course proved to be William's masterpiece: moist and delicious chocolate cake.

Catherine ate everything with gusto, enjoying the lively atmosphere as she snuck glances at Vincent seated beside her. He seemed more at ease than usual, just one among many in a crowded room filled with all his family and friends. While the night had a decidedly festive air, unlike Winterfest, no one wore their finest clothes. Some of the younger men trudged in from century duty still in dust-covered garb. The children's hands and faces were clean, but Catherine suspected that they would be marched off to the baths after the meal was over.

Lively conversation filled the room, almost to the point of raucousness, but Father made it a point to raise his voice enough to be heard over the general din.

"Catherine, we're so glad you could join us tonight," he said with a smile.

Both a little surprised and also honored by the comment, Catherine said, "I'm glad to be here."

"Oh, are you staying the weekend?" Jamie interjected, overhearing the exchange. "Mouse is demonstrating his new machine tomorrow, and I'm sure he'd love for you to see it!"

This suggestion was followed by a chorus of agreements from the children. Mary, who was seated beside her, leaned in close to whisper, "When I heard Vincent had invited you below, I made sure the guest chamber was made up. Just in case."

Catherine blushed and murmured a thanks. Beside her, Vincent said nothing, and she kept her eyes on her plate as she tried not to smile too widely at the enthusiasm expressed at the possibility of her spending the night below.

After dinner, Catherine helped Vincent with gathering up plates and she would have taken a turn at dishwashing duty had young Jeffrey not moved to take her place.

"I've got this," he told her, sounding much older and more mature than his barely eleven years. "You and Vincent should go… take a walk or something."

He even winked at her.

"I fear Kipper has been a bad influence," Vincent said in amusement as they left the dining chamber.

In the interests of proper digestion, he had suggested a walk to the Mirror Pool so they could stargaze without necessitating a trip above. The late hour also ensured that they had the prime location to themselves as most of the other tunnel dwellers either retired to bed or to Father's chamber for games or conversation. In no hurry to relinquish Vincent's attention to anyone else, Catherine made herself comfortable on the sandy floor next to the water's edge. As she expected, Vincent found a spot near enough to her to almost be touching but not quite.

"I just love your world," she observed quietly, watching the almost magical reflection of sky even so far below the surface. "Everyone down here is so accepting. So giving."

"Like you," Vincent observed.

Catherine sighed at the compliment. Being with him was just so easy. With all the men she had dated in her life, never had she felt so comfortable just being with a man before. His presence held no expectation of her, no need for fawning or laughter or seduction. Rather, Vincent enjoyed her presence as much as she did his. They existed side by side so effortlessly.

For a time, she simply let the feeling of peace surround her as she gazed down into the mirror pool. Stars twinkled back at her, a reflection of the night sky so far under ground seeming both magical and fantastical. Glancing over at the man beside her, she smiled at the comparison. Even Kristopher had remarked on his fairytale-like appearance. Sometimes, Catherine wondered if it wasn't all some incredible dream from which she hoped she would never wake.

"You seem… content," Vincent observed.

Smiling in response, Catherine answered. "I think what you're feeling from me is happiness."

Her answer earned a rare smile from Vincent, one in which she could almost glimpse his teeth through the curve of his cleft lip. Focusing on his mouth, she shifted from her seat on the ground just beside him. Moving slowly, Catherine scooted closer to him.

Accepting of her approach, Vincent also shifted so as to accommodate her within his space, and within moments he pulled her close, spooning behind her with one arm securely pulled around her middle and her head leaned easily against his broad shoulder.

For a time, they were quiet together. But gradually, she sensed in him a growing tension.

"What is it?" she asked, turning slightly so she could see his expression out of the corner of her eye.

He hesitated for only a moment before speaking.

"Last night, I… I touched you."

Nodding, Catherine said coyly, "I remember."

"Without gloves," he clarified. "Did you find that… distasteful?"

Her eyes shot up in surprise, but just as quickly, she tempered her response.

"No," she answered, shaking her head. "Not at all. The opposite, in fact."

Catherine moved, shifting just enough so that he could see her face completely as she spoke.

"Vincent, when you touch me - with your hands, with any part of you - you always do so carefully. With reverence. Perhaps it is because you fear harming me by accident, but…"

She sensed that her response - as full of love and acceptance as she could summon - did not satisfy him. Before her, he grew agitated as he sought the proper words, his muscles tensing as his eyes shifted about, looking everywhere but at her.

Finally, Vincent tried again. Haltingly, he asked, "I meant - did you find it… Did you find me… Does it disgust you, when I touch you?"

TBC