Paris, France 2023
"Alright," Anna said with conviction, "Let's go get Lucy!"
She held Valentin's face in her hands, and he could see the thrill of the hunt sparkle in her eyes. He watched as that energy traveled from her eyes all the way down to her feet. Then he felt her ready to stand. No doubt to throw on her jacket and pull him bodily out the door if she had to. Her hair shone, soft and silky, and complimented the wildness in her countenance. Mon Dieu, he thought, she was so beautiful. She was a woman of action, and she demanded it from others.
"Now, hold on," he placed his hands on her knees to still her momentarily. Then he couldn't resist letting his hands continue their journey to her thighs, letting his fingers feel the millimeters of denim that kept him from feeling the softness of her skin until he knew he had her full and complete attention. "Lucy's not going anywhere, and we don't even know how to get to her yet."
"Then let's go find out," she urged, "We could go to the Cafe Odette. It's still neutral ground for the WSB and DVX. We might have luck there or at least make a new contact. Someone that could lead us underground to where Lucy is."
"I have a contact."
"You do?"
"I do, and I've already put a message out to them."
"Wait. What kind of contact? Above the law or underneath it?" She asked warily
"Does that matter? Aren't we currently above the law? Although I don't mind being underneath-" He leaned forward, hoping she would stop asking questions for the moment and finally let him have his way with her.
"We aren't above it. We are on the run from it." she all-but-huffed, allowing herself to fall back heavily on the couch in frustration. And purposely just out of his reach.
"The tunnel system is complex, and though some tunnels have plaques indicating the name of the street above, it is easy to get lost. Some passages are low or narrow, and others are partially flooded. There are aging telephone wires, pipes, and other impediments that can hinder progress, and cave-ins, though rare, do occasionally occur. A good guide is indispensable. Some people are experts in the catacombs, and I reached out to one. I expect them to make contact with us some time today."
"Oh?" She asked, "and the name of this expert?"
"Renee."
"And how do you know him?" she asked.
Valentin looked sheepish for a moment. "Her," he said with a slight cough to clear his throat.
"Oh. Ok, How do you know her then?" she corrected herself. Her forehead sank onto the top of her clasped hands. She had a sudden headache forming.
"Oh…well, recommended to me by a colleague. She was good at her job. She can get into parts of the Paris underground that others can't. You need to be able to scurry and scramble and, um…get into tight places. In the catacombs, I mean." The words tumbled out of his mouth, and he saw a glint in her eye that noted his jitteriness.
"I can see how flexibility could be important. For getting into tight spaces," she said slowly.
Her tone was too neutral…Valentin knew instantly that it was only a veneer over something more potently felt, but he acknowledged it with as little fuss or show as possible. Just in case it mattered too much. After all, his past was still a sticky subject between them. So he changed tactics and opted for distraction.
"Flexibility is key," he acknowledged, then let his eyes roam her body. "Good thing you're flexible;" he allowed the inflection of his voice to communicate his approval of her limberness.
She lifted her head from her hands, and he was happy to see her face reemerge with a sly smile on it. "You think so?"
"I know so." He looked at her with that infuriating smirk of his. The one that said he knew her better than she knew herself. She decided to pay him back for it.
"You might not know as much as you think," she said haughtily, "You can be a bit…mmmm…tenetive." He stared at her. The slack jaw of Valentin's at her words quirked a little in consideration.
"No tentative at all. I just don't want to hurt you with my enthusiasm," he countered boldly, but he felt the sting of uncertainty that she meant him to feel.
"That's very sweet, but you couldn't. There is a whole range of motion you haven't explored." She smiled at Valentin's mildly scandalized and unabashedly lustful expression.
"Then let's explore it now."
"We are waiting for your contact."
"Oh, contact will be involved, darling…."
"Valentin."
"Anna."
"Be serious."
"I've never been more serious."
He was far too assured, she noted. Anna's lips pursed instantly in disapproval, and he watched with great pleasure as her expression wrestled with the measure of his sincerity and her own desires. It was apparent she was already considering doing the exactly what he wanted. He captured her lips with his and was rapturous when her cravings won the day, and she kissed him back. She smiled, laughed softly, and leaned back onto the couch, pulling him with her. He settled himself over her. Ready to prove himself a quick study of whatever lesson into the intricacies of her body she was about to give him.
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
The noise at the door stilled Anna's lips instantly, her ears pricking at the sound and deducing the source in quick succession.
"That must be your contact," she said.
Later that same day...
Anna looked at Renee cooly as she considered all that could go wrong if she trusted the fate of so many lives in the hands of Valentin Cassadine's past.
"Remember Anna. We have to move quickly," Valentin insisted. "Before Victor learns about our plan and moves Lucy to another location, it's now or never."
The weight of her silence hung heavy over the room. Then, a subtle inclination of her head said it all. She agreed.
"Then it's now," Anna said, not taking her eyes off Renee while Valentin squeezed her hand gratefully.
"Très bien," Renee smiled, "Here is the address. We will enter through the crypt of Saint-Ambroise at vingt-un heures. Be on time and dress warmly, Anna. As for you, Valentin? Well, we always found ways to keep warm in the catacombs. Didn't we, Cheri? Au revoir."
Renee looked directly at Anna as she ran her hand over Valentin's cheek. She gave a coy smile, a nod of her head, and a wink, then leaned in and pressed a lingering kiss at the corner of his mouth. Valentin had the decency to flush a deep red with what looked to be genuine embarrassment. Anna could feel him watching her, making an assessment of her mood. Noting the neutrality of her smile, the steadiness with which she held herself in Renee's presence. Anna was satisfied to see that he knew he was skating on very thin.
Valentin walked Renee to the door, opened it for her courteously, and closed it firmly behind her as quickly as he could without seeming rude. He took a moment and looked both ways out of habit, half expecting to see someone following her, but there was no one. Closing the door, he turned and watched Anna in the dim light of the setting sun that illuminated the room.
An annoyed sigh left Anna's lips before she could compose herself. Valentin picked up her wine glass and hurried to refill it. Her eyes snapped a scowl at him but were met with his own irascible resolve- a dare for her to make a mountain out of what was obviously a molehill.
She accepted the challenge.
Her jaw set, and her eyes glinted like flint, and Valentin instantly regretted his cavalier expression.
She took the glass from his hands and immediately set it down again. She was antsy, incapable of being still- her hands moved in and out of her pockets- itching for something to do, her lips were pressed together in a thin line, and she looked like she needed to get something off her chest. Valentin braced himself. He didn't know what he was about to face, icy cold wrath or volcanic ire. She picked up her tablet and then threw it back down on the couch in frustration.
He raised his hands to de-escalate the situation and remind her he was unarmed, just for good measure.
"Darling…" he began carefully.
"Don't."
She held her hand up to silence him. But Valentin caught her hand in his and brought it to his lips, where he lavished his attention upon it. Anna's eyes narrowed. She would not give him the satisfaction of being distracted by his mouth, no matter how talented.
"Renee is simply a means to an end, darling," he said, placing kisses on her fingertips. "And if we had another option, then we'd go that route."
Raising an eyebrow, Anna refrained from pitching in with a petty 'well, at least that's something we can both agree on.' Anna took a deep breath and steadied herself. Feeling her heartbeat slow along with her breathing until she was calm and centered
It was a mask, of course. But Valentin was enamored watching her. The control she had over herself was majestic. She exhaled measuredly, reasoning herself back into a sense of calm and allowing that unnerving serenity she possessed to flow back into her skin.
"Renee is right," she assented with a certain coolness, which he acknowledged with a surprised upward jolt of an eyebrow and a twist of his head in her direction. "I won't risk Lucy getting moved again. It's too dangerous, and we can't go any further without a guide."
He raised an eyebrow at that small admission in favor of his argument, albeit tainted a bit by the implication that his underworld contact was the last choice she would entertain if any other option were available to them. But he understood. Their chances of being hurt or captured in this reckless, last-ditch attempt to halt their enemy and rescue Lucy was greater than either of them liked, a thought which was undoubtedly at the forefront of Anna's considerations.
"But we can't be naive, Valentin. This could be a trap. In fact, it likely is, and we should at least plan accordingly."
She was right, of course. It was the most logical solution, though it did nothing to curb the kick of concern in his gut. His warm eyes hardened at the thought of betrayal on Renee's part. He was glad Anna would be with him. God knows, for all his talents, he wouldn't want to rest the mission's fate on his shoulders alone.
"Alright, Anna. We agreed on the matter… perhaps we should focus on how we will proceed?"
"We will start by using Renee's interest in you to our advantage."
"There was no interest. I promise you. Just reminiscing about old times. Times I'm sure neither of us wants to revisit." He shrugged nonchalantly, slowing down as though he was about to provide her with some kind of alternative interpretation of the events she had witnessed but then thought better of it.
Anna automatically rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on, Valentin. She would have taken you straight to the bedroom if she hadn't wanted me to witness your…reminiscing, as you call it."
"What do you mean by that?"
"That kiss hello, that display of familiarity with you. Sorry to your amour-propre, but that was for my benefit, not yours. Renee's competitive. And she wanted to size up my reaction. You can learn much about a woman by how she reacts to a rival being overtly flirtatious with a man she is attached to."
Valentin smirked at the word attached and moved in closer to her. His hands rested on her hips, and his eyes held hers.
"And what did Renee learn about you?"
"Exactly what I wanted her to," she said matter-of-factly, then slipped from his hands and walked away.
"I'm scared to ask," he said with a sigh. She was playing hard to get, and he knew he deserved it.
"She learned that we have, as you say, a connection but that perhaps I'm a little overconfident in your allegiance to me. Again, she's competitive. She will set out to prove me wrong. Which is exactly what we want her to do."
"I'm not following."
"We will use her interest in getting…uh… reacquainted with you to our advantage. All you have to do is keep her distracted while I handle our contingency plan. You really are very charming and handsome. I'm sure you will have her eating out of your hand in no time. Just make sure she doesn't take a bite."
"Would that bother you?" he smirked.
"I'm not going to dignify that question with a response."
"So you don't trust her."
"God, no! As far as I can throw her. Do you?"
"She never double-crossed me before. Who knows, maybe Renee is above board?"
"Maybe," she said in a placating way. Not wanting to bruise his ego completely. "How about this? We'll make a bet. If she is trustworthy, you win. If not, then I do."
"What will I win?"
"I'll admit you were right."
"And if she betrays us?" he asked.
"Then you will have to throw yourself on my mercy."
"I could do that right now."
"Not now. We have some shopping to do before we meet Renee." Anna let out a soft chuckle, pushing his hands from her, but his arm wound around her waist, and he pulled her close.
"Anna, we never know what fate will befall us. All we can be certain of is this moment. 'Happiness, not in another place but this place… not for another hour, but this hour.'"
"Quoting Walt Whitman won't get you anywhere."She was eying him with unvoiced irritation, though he couldn't quite figure out the subtext. Anna merely shook her head and let out a longsuffering sigh.
"Alright, how about this then?" He leaned close and kissed her deeply.
Instinctively she reached out and laid her hand on the side of his face. At that moment, something arced between them. And suddenly, she was holding her breath. For what reason, she couldn't say. She held still for one moment longer, then removed her hand. But rather than drawing back, Anna's eyes burned into his. With deliberateness, she placed her hand on the side of his neck, her thumb following the line of his jugular vein, noticing his quickened pulse and feeling him swallow thickly at her touch. She smiled at the effect she had on him. Then she flicked her leg up, flexing it and swinging it around to wrap it softly around the outside of his, and she pressed her body against his with supple grace. She heard him inhale sharply and felt his hands move to the small of her back to steady her before she drew her knee higher. She raised her leg up further, a smooth, gradual unfolding until it rested on his shoulder.
"This is called développe a second," she said simply, " A test of flexibility. Do you think I passed?"
It couldn't be helped. The poetry of her body required poetry in answer.
"Re-examine all you have been told in school or church or in any book, dismiss whatever insults your own soul; and your very flesh shall be a great poem and have the richest fluency not only in its words but in the silent lines of its lips and face and between the lashes of your eyes and in every motion and joint of your body…," he whispered in soft reverent tones.
With a feather-light touch, his fingertips swept her hair aside so that he could press his lips to the side of her neck. Her muscles went slack as he let his mouth languish there. Finally, His hand slipped from the small of her back. His knuckles brushed against her right shoulder to ghost down the side of her torso. Her breath wavered in the half-second that his hand grazed the soft slope of her breast, but he continued on down her side. When his hand reached her hip, his fingers squeezed her flesh before continuing their sojourn upward to her thigh and came to rest on her calf that rested comfortably on his shoulder, marveling at her pliability. Marveling that she was his and in his arms.
"I stand corrected," she said with a coquettish smile. "Maybe Walt Whitman will get you somewhere."
She took control before he could hazard a response. Her lips moved to his without any hesitation or timidness. She kissed him. Slow and deep, a free hand tangled in his hair. His hands cupped her face, holding her to him even though he half-expected her to pull away and brush the moment off before pulling him out into the Paris streets. But she didn't, and his brain kicked in, like a flick of a switch, with a swift jolt of adrenaline that immediately cleared the wine-warm fog from his head. Her body communicated what she wanted; all he could do was answer.
She kissed him hungrier than before. As his tongue swept over hers, his fingers found the clasp of her bra and pulled it from her. His hands felt her bare back and then wrapped around her to pull her closer till her breasts were flush against him. The brush of her body against his was too delicious to ignore, and his mouth had to sample what his hands longed to feel. Her soft moans communicated everything she needed him to know. And he was grateful- for the silkiness of her hair, how she curved against him, how her hand pressed against his back, welcoming lips, and how she leeched desire from him and absorbed it. Strangely she calmed him even as her touch burned through his nerves. Every move was deliberate, and all he could think about was pulling the rest of her clothes off and finally burying himself in her.
Anna squealed with laughter as he picked her up and tossed her down onto the couch. She moaned as his kisses trailed down her neck, nuzzling his nose against her cleavage as his hands roamed her body, squeezing her breasts and caressing her thighs, much to her delight. She pulled him closer, wrapping her legs around his waist and roughly tugging on his hair to get him to kiss her again; he was more than happy to oblige, moving his hand up her leg towards the place where she wanted him most, taking the opportunity to slide his tongue into her mouth as she gasped in pleasure.
Anna helped him peel off her remaining clothes by raising her hips up, her hands gripping his shoulders as his fingers brushed her core which she suspected was by design. Tossing the flimsy lace on the floor with the rest of her clothing, he moved his hand between her legs again, caressing her much more deliberately this time. She arched against him, moaning loudly as he pushed her closer to the edge. He wants more; he wants to give her the most exquisite pleasure possible. He lifted himself up on his forearms so he could just look at her. He could never look at her enough. She smiled at him seductively before using their momentary interlude to catch him off guard and flip him over so that he found himself lying on his back on the sofa, looking up at her. She leaned in and nibbled on the exposed flesh of his collarbone, slipping her fingers across his skin to caress every part of his chest.
He soon grew impatient and gently pushed her back so that he could sit up and pull his cashmere sweatshirt over his head. Letting him settle back against the cushions again, she kissed a trail down his chest and stomach. He was so handsome: he was well-built with well-defined shoulders and strong arms, and his hands had just the right amount of roughness as they caressed her bare skin. She felt the play of muscles beneath her fingers as she caressed down his torso until she reached the waistband of his jeans and stopped to press a hand very deliberately against his erection, making him groan in pleasure and impatience as she moved to undo the button. He so desperately wanted to do it for her, but he couldn't seem to focus on anything but the feel of her hands, and the look on her face was so damn erotic that it quite literally paralyzed him. He only regained his ability to move when He couldn't resist the temptation to take one of her breasts into his mouth as she leaned over him to unzip his fly, and he swore she was deliberately taking her time to let them both enjoy this even though time was not on their side.
She slid backward, tugging his jeans and briefs down with her and leaving him naked before her. Her stomach fluttered at the thought of having him inside of her, hitting all the right spots and making her scream. First, she felt like teasing him some more, and so she scratched her fingernails up his thighs, meeting his eyes and giving him a wicked grin before finally teasing him with a feather-light touch; he hissed as she stroked him from base to tip and moves her mouth towards him, licking her scarlet painted lips in anticipation of what is to come. She swirled her tongue around the head of his cock, and he moaned something that sounded vaguely like her name mixed with a curse as he roughly ran a hand through her hair, twisting her dark curls around his fingers, which caused her movements to quicken as she took him deeper into her mouth.
But before he could find release, she sat up and looked him in the eye again as she moved astride, took him in hand, and slowly sank down onto him; her eyes fluttered closed, and there was a look of pure bliss on her face as she surrendered herself to the feeling of having him fill her so completely. She tossed her hair back and caressed the plains of his chest again as they settled into a steady rhythm that had them both moaning and begging for more as they lost themselves entirely in each other. His hands grasped her hips as he encouraged her movements, noticing for the first time that there was a small scar on her shoulder, a relic of the past; he ran a finger across it, and it sent a shiver down her spine, such a tiny and intimate action just enough to send her over the edge and bringing her to an all-consuming orgasm. His own followed seconds later, and she collapsed on top of him, breathing heavily and kissing his chest right above his pounding heart.
"God, I love Paris," he panted. When he could move again, Valentin kissed her everywhere that his lips could reach. "What have I ever done to deserve to be here, like this, with you?" he murmured against her skin. She didn't know how to begin to answer his questions; instead, she replied softly, quoting Whitman as an intimation of the sojourn into the catacombs that lay before them.
"Keep your face always toward the sunshine – and shadows will fall behind you."
