"All THAT HEAVEN WILL ALLOW"
by Debbie Nockels
RATING: NC-17
DISCLAIMER: None of the characters are mine (I wish!). They belong to Ron Koslow, who created them, and I'm not sure who else at this point in time.
SUMMARY: Sequel to my novelette Though They Sink Through The Sea. Vincent & Catherine wake up the morning after.
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Now the world is filled with wonder
You've turned my life around
������ in just one day
I love the spell you've put me under
With just one kiss, you take my breath
������ away....
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������ Vincent awakened to a gradual, drowsy awareness of warmth and light. Light? His eyelids flew open. Sunlight! Even as his immediate panic flooded his system with adrenalin - the panic instilled by Father and honed over the years to almost Pavlovian reflex - Vincent's eyes fell upon the most beautiful vision they had ever beheld: Catherine, lying asleep beside him, as innocent of clothing as a newborn.
������ At the sight of her, memory burst over him, rich and wondrous, banishing his fear. Last night he and Catherine had made love, had become truly one in a joining both tender and passionate, a union of their bodies and souls so inexpressibly beautiful that, remembering, tears rose to Vincent's eyes and his breath caught in his throat.
������ Lifting his head slightly off the pillow, Vincent placed a soft kiss on Catherine's temple; his lips lingered, nuzzling her silky hair. How precious she was, how completely and utterly miraculous.
������ His thoughts flew back to the dark time, still so painfully recent, when he had believed her to be dead, forever lost to him in this life. Barely one month had passed since he had learned that Catherine had not died but was in a coma,under police protection in a nursing home. Just four weeks - but how completely his life had changed in that short time, numb endurance transformed into blazing new life.
������ Truly, I have been reborn.
������ Only Jacob, his son - their son - had enabled him to survive those agonizing months following the loss of Catherine, when the long years
yet to be lived stretched before him in an endless vista of unbearable emptiness.
������ At first it was the search for their son which occupied his thoughts and kept him from seeking the comfort of death, a goal Vincent knew was within his power to attain merely through the willing of it. But he would not leave this world until he knew his son was beyond the reach of the cold, unfeeling person called Gabriel...the man responsible for the kidnapping of Catherine - the man who had ordered her death.
������ And then, once Vincent had found his child and brought him safely Below, his ever-strengthening bond with Jacob had become his lifeline to this world. Vincent extended his awareness now to touch that bond, was reassured to find that his son was still asleep. A miracle of love, their child.
������ A miracle I never thought to see, not even in my dreams. But the true miracle of my life lies here beside me. Without Catherine, I would have gone through my days only half alive, believing myself content with the love of family and friends, denying my right to dream of any other love. Catherine, from the day I found you in the Park, you have been my light, my life, my love. I love you.
������ Vincent pressed another kiss against Catherine's hair, feeling sweet emotion swell his heart to bursting. He lay back against his pillow and gazed at her. So beautiful.
������ They had fallen asleep clasped closely in each other's arms, but during their short hours of rest their involuntary motions had moved them slightly apart. Catherine now lay on her back with one arm flung over her head, the other draped over Vincent's thigh. The early morning light brought out subtle highlights of gold and silver-blonde in the chestnut strands of her sleep-tousled hair; a delicate tint flushed her cheeks. With surprise, Vincent now discovered a barely visible scattering of freckles across her nose, something the dim light Below had never revealed.
������ He sighed, wanting nothing more than to spend the rest of the day looking at her. But right now a more pressing need was making itself felt - urgently.
������ Vincent slid his arm out from under Catherine's neck, careful not to disturb her. Rising gently from the bed, he slipped into the bathroom, closing the door noiselessly behind him. He took a second to let his eyes adjust to the dimness of the room, then flipped up the toilet seat and attended to matters. While the toilet was flushing, Vincent washed his hands. As he reached for the handtowel his eye was caught by the reflected motion in the large mirror over the sink, which he had been assiduously avoiding. He froze, then deliberately turned his head to look into the glass. From the shadows, his reflection stared back at him.
������ For the first time in his life, Vincent viewed his image with more than just grim acceptance. All was changed now, for this was the face Catherine had kissed, caressing those strange, leonine features with her hands and lips. A shiver swept over Vincent as he remembered the feel of her mouth sweeping soft kisses along his cheekbones, down onto his lips. Her fingers had delighted in exploring the thickness of that wild mane. She had touched and stroked and revelled in that enormous, furred body - all of it. Finally Vincent accepted that more than simply ignoring or overlooking his differences, Catherine truly rejoiced in them.
������ But I will never understand
why.
������ He moved quietly back to the bed and lifted the covers just enough to slide in between the smooth sheets. Turning toward Catherine's sleeping form, Vincent rested his weight on one arm, gazing down at his love.
������ Catherine's chest rose and fell with the slow, relaxed breaths of deep slumber. Snuggled against his greater body heat as they slept, she had not needed the extra warmth of the bedclothes over her, and her upper body was uncovered to the waist. Long, dark lashes softly brushed her cheeks. Her creamy skin was luminous, flushed with sleep. Her breasts....
������ Vincent allowed his eyes the incomparable pleasure of exploring the delicate beauty revealed in the clear dawn light. Slowly, shyly, he trailed a finger along the undercurve of one breast, up over the relaxed tip.
������ So soft, so tender. Vincent watched, fascinated, as the dark-rose nipple began to tighten in visible response to his gentle caress. Deep inside his body, something hot began coiling, sending glittering tendrils of heat licking through his tissues.
������ Catherine stirred, sighing deeply. Not wishing to waken her, Vincent ceased his stroking, surprised at the force of will this required. His senses were fully awake now, tingling and eager, urging him on. Sternly he told himself that Catherine needed to rest - she had, after all, been released from the hospital only the day before. And their sleep, even after they had drifted, barely awake, into the bedroom, had been...sporadic...during what was left of the night. Unbidden, memory rose:
������ Waking on the sheepskin rug, feeling Catherine's body spooned against him, the dying embers in the fireplace giving out little warmth and even less light. He nuzzled her hair, tangled now from sleep and their loving, and kissed the nape of her neck, his lips and tongue lingering on the soft skin.
������ The satin feel of her skin as his hands smoothed over her breasts, along the curve of her waist, down across her flat stomach. Her breathless moan as his fingers glided through silky curls and found her moist heat. He moved his hand in a gentle circular motion, one finger slipping between soft folds of hot, wet skin, and she pressed back against him, shivering wildly, trapping his growing erection between their bodies.
������ They moved in a slow, sensuous cadence of alternating pressure and friction, flesh sliding over flesh, lubricated by the damp sheen of their desire, muscles taut and quivering with need. The hoarse gasps of their ragged breathing...the strangled groans as together they spasmed in convulsive release.
������ His heart racing, Vincent lay back down, but he could not resist drawing nearer to Catherine and pulling her closer. Rousing slightly, she sighed again and turned onto her side, facing him. One arm crept over his waist, and she nestled her face into his chest before sinking back into sleep. With great effort, Vincent forced his mind off the closeness of her warm body, off his own state of excitement. Somehow, slowly, he drifted back to sleep.
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������ Without opening her eyes, Catherine snuggled closer to Vincent, savoring his warmth, the velvety texture of his fur
against her skin, the elusive scent, lighter than musk and slightly spicy, that was his alone. Their connection told her that he was still asleep. She drew one hand along the powerful muscles of his chest and without her conscious
volition, her eyes popped open, needing to see him as well.
������ God, he was beautiful. For so long she had dreamed of this, of waking up with Vincent beside her. It had been one of the several great ironies of their relationship that when she had finally gotten him into her bed those many months ago, it had happened only because Vincent had been too ill to object. She smiled wryly, thinking of how his first action upon awakening had been to leave her alone in that bed. The
smile faded when she remembered waking up to see him standing in front of the terrace doors, watching the sunset.
������ His shame and despair had been obvious to her, even without the bond to relay it. Despite her hopeful words to him, that maybe the worst had passed, she had known that Vincent was still in the grip of his illness - and that his first coherent words in three days should be those of apology almost broke her heart.
������ Vincent, for most of your life, in one way or another,you have been apologizing for who you are, for what you are.
Never again, do you hear me? Never. You are beautiful, and there is nothing shameful about you - and if it is the last thing I do I will make you understand that.
������ Catherine looked at him and knew that for the rest of her life this sight would be with her, a living, burning image etched forever in her memory: Vincent lying naked beside her with the clear morning light illuminating his beloved face . . . one arm flung over her, powerfully muscled yet lying so lightly, so tenderly upon her body, perfectly defining both his incredible strength and the innate gentleness of his character...the glossy fur delineating and emphasizing the contours of his massive body into a vision of unbelievable sensuality.
������ Her tongue crept out over lips gone suddenly dry. Somewhere in the back of her consciousness, Catherine continued to be amazed at the effect he had on her. Almost from the very beginning, she had been aware of Vincent's natural sensuality, a quality even more powerful because it was unrecognized by him. This awareness had only intensified during the second year of their relationship.
������ As their unique empathic connection continued to strengthen and grow apace with their love, so had her desire for him, until the pain of being apart from him had become almost unbearable. She had thought, after they made love in the dark cavern below the catacombs, that a new phase of their relationship had been entered - but that hope had been shattered almost immediately by Vincent's amnesia. Then she had discovered she was pregnant.
������ That knowledge had thrown her into a turmoil of confusion and indecision. Vincent was far from healed, was still extremely vulnerable. Knowing his distrust and fear of his Other nature, Catherine could not be sure how he would react to such news, and had feared to upset the fragile balance he had once more attained, at such horrific cost. How bitterly ironic that on the very day when she had finally resolved to tell him of her pregnancy, she had been kidnapped.
������ For more than six months they had been separated - six interminable, agonizing months - and when at last they were reunited, it had been only moments before she died - or appeared to die. How long had she inhabited that nebulous world between life and death, while in the coma? Two months? Three? No, an eternity. Finally Vincent had entered that realm of shadows to find her and bring her back to him, and now they would never be apart again.
������ These past weeks in the nursing home while she regained her strength - so frustratingly slowly - had been a test of a different sort. Vincent had not only acknowledged his desire for her, but had finally admitted his right to that need. To see him every night, have him so close, had been a pleasure so acute that it bordered on agony. And now that they had actually, finally, made love, it was as if the long years of denial clamored continually for satisfaction.
������ Never had she experienced arousal so immediate and so intense - or so frequent. Merely looking at Vincent now sent a hot flush shimmering through her veins and started her heart pounding. Breathing quickened, Catherine moved closer and sent her hands questing down his body.
������ When Vincent awoke this time, he was at once aware of Catherine's softness in his arms. Following instantly upon that knowledge came the awareness of her soft hands tenderly, insistently stroking and kneading his receptive flesh. Her lips were on his neck, bestowing slow, lingering kisses along the sensitive skin, down into the long fur covering his chest.
������ Vincent gasped at the heat spreading through his body, rapidly turning his blood to molten silver and his limbs to water. Within seconds he was at full, taut arousal, achingly so. Bending his head, he found Catherine's mouth and crushed her to him, running his palms hungrily over her satin skin and gentle curves. Their kiss deepened in a desperate attempt to assuage the demands three years of denial had created, but the prolonged caress served only to intensify the ravenous hunger.
������ Breaking away, Vincent rolled over on his back, bringing Catherine with him, shaking, fighting for control. Slowly the voracious need abated somewhat. He lay breathing in ragged gulps as she sat up and straddled his waist. Lifting unsteady hands, Vincent exerted gentle pressure on her back, causing her to lean toward him. His eyes were fixed on her breasts; the coolness of the air and the intensity of her passion had begun to crinkle their soft tips.
������ Catherine placed her hands above Vincent's head and leaned down, until her breasts reached almost to his mouth. By raising his chin, Vincent could just touch her with his lips, but no more. Wondering at this, he hesitated, searching their bond for an indication of her intent, was both reassured and confused by the mixture of playful mischief and eager anticipation which he found there.
������ Playfulness in lovemaking? It was a startling thought, but as Vincent's eyes lingered on the small, graceful curves so temptingly close and he allowed his own sensual emotions to rise within him, the idea no longer seemed so alien. Vincent delicately licked across one nipple with his broad tongue, tasting the tenderness of the thin skin. The erect peak hardened even more under his soft caress. He moved his attentions to her other breast, licking, tasting there, too.
������ Catherine sighed as Vincent's tongue stroked across her taut skin, but when he raised his head, mouth opened to take in a greater expanse of her breast, she pulled back, allowing him access only to the very tip. Again and again Vincent attempted more, and each time Catherine moved just beyond his reach, playfully teasing, tantalizing him. Frustrated passion began to rise within him, building with each passing second. Finally Vincent could endure it no more.
������ Enough was enough. A low growl rumbled in his throat and with urgent hands he pulled Catherine closer. His lips closed around one breast, suckling gently, drawing her into the wet, hot suction of his mouth.
������ Catherine chuckled softly, then closed her eyes with a shiver as his warm, soft tongue began its magic, moving in wet circles over her tingling nipples, while his mouth pulled and the tips of his fangs pressed softly, excitingly into the tender skin. Scorching pleasure moved deep within her, and she moaned. She felt her body rocking in unthinking reflex to the involuntary undulation of Vincent's hips, and could wait no longer.
������ Gently pulling away from his intoxicating mouth, Catherine reached behind her, delighted when she encountered his thick, swollen readiness. She rose up onto her knees and positioned her body, then with agonizing slowness lowered herself over him. As his rock-hard length slid effortlessly into her, Catherine groaned again, aflame with erotic sensation, and leaned down to find his mouth waiting for hers. His lips were hot and demanding, his roving hands passionate on her back, buttocks, thighs. Her body rose upward and lowered again.
������ They began to move in rhythm then, with long, slow, deliberate strokes, Vincent lending Catherine the assistance of his strong arms when her legs began to tire. This was a new aspect of lovemaking for Vincent. To be able to watch Catherine as she lost herself in her passion, to see ripples of pleasure move beneath her love-flushed skin, to stroke and caress and know that each touch added another layer of fire to their mutual passion - these things were a delight he had never thought to know.
������ All this Vincent had long dreamed of, with secret, guilty pleasure - but even in his dreams their loving had always taken place during the familiar, comfortable shadows of night. Daylight, he now discovered, added a new and, to him, disturbing element to the reality of physical love.
������ Gone was the concealing cloak of darkness broken only by flickering candlelight, the soft, romantic glow of the fire.
Sunlight streamed in through the bedroom windows, reaching across the bed, illuminating with bright, merciless fingers.
������ For most of his life, certainly since the onset of puberty had made his physical differences even more obvious, his body had been something to be covered, hidden even from his own eyes. Now, for the first time, Vincent could clearly see his body joined with another in the act of love, and he was mesmerized by the sight of his erection moving in and out of Catherine's body in long, glistening thrusts. A sudden burst of hot, intensely sexual excitement flared through him, and Vincent was dismayed by it.
������ This cannot be right, this kind of enjoyment. This must be unnatural!
������ Vincent fought the fierce arousal clawing its way through his body, sure that it must be some animalistic aspect of his dark, Other nature surfacing. He felt Catherine's movements grow slower and then stop, but did not realize he had closed his eyes until he opened them to look at her. She was gazing at him, her green eyes troubled, searching his as though reading his very soul. Then a faint, enigmatic smile crossed her lips and she resumed her motions.
������ Not yet as experienced as Vincent at reading the emotions shared through their bond - and also being somewhat distracted at the time - it had taken Catherine several moments to realize that their mutual passion was becoming prey to other, darker feelings. Guilt/distress/fear grew increasingly
stronger - battling with Vincent's unmistakable arousal.
������ Worried, Catherine stared into his eyes, opening herself fully to their empathic connection. Suddenly she was assaulted, lost in a tempest of tossing, writhing emotions.
������ Softflesh/wet,clinging...no!(*gasp*hotdesire)... No! mustnot ... notright... hard,hot/in,out(*shudder* intensepleasure)... hotflesh/wet.... notright...to...look/mustnot...watch...No...(groan)... WRONG!(*despair*shame)....
������ Catherine wrenched herself free of the swirling morass of Vincent's emotions. A feeling of great tenderness swept over
her. Oh, Vincent. There is nothing unnatural about you. Let me show you, love.
������ Closing her eyes, she deliberately reached
inside her deepest emotions, past the civilized veneer, down to that part of her which would never be tamed. Letting go of all restraints, Catherine called forth her most wanton feelings. Slowly her eyes opened again.
������ Lost in a misery of shame and desire, Vincent did not at first notice the change in Catherine, then suddenly he became
aware of a difference in her movements. Her motions slowed, and Vincent recognized the new voluptuousness with which her body moved on his. His eyes widened as a flood of sensual emotions poured through the bond.
������ Rising up onto her knees, Catherine reached for his hand and guided it to the juncture of their bodies. Helplessly, he watched as she slid his fingers along his turgid length until
they were coated with the slick moisture of her body.
������ Vincent shuddered from the multiple sensations he was receiving, and felt renewed despair at the increase in his
excitement. Could Catherine feel his lust? No; she must not know! He attempted to remove his hand, only to have Catherine grip it tightly in place. Distressed, he looked at her and was taken aback by the smoldering hunger in her half-closed eyes.
������ ::What you are feeling is not wrong, Vincent. Nothing you feel with me is wrong - nothing. Let me show you my feelings, my desires.::
������ Her gaze never leaving his eyes, Catherine moved his hand to touch her flesh where they were joined, then slid his
fingers up along her softness. Once again Vincent felt beneath his fingertips the tiny, sensitive node he knew was the focus of much pleasure for her. Catherine's eyes were smoky green torches burning straight into his soul.
������ "Touch me, Vincent; please. Your hands were made to give love; I want to feel your fingers on me, touching me, loving
me. Know what your touch does to me, Vincent; feel how your touch excites me. Feel me."
������ Her low voice pulled at him with its deep, sultry huskiness. Her words, hot and shocking, slid deep into his being, and his entire body throbbed in giant, instinctive reaction. For a mindless moment, Vincent was lost in an overpowering wave of liquid desire. His pupils dilated and he drew a deep, shuddering breath.
������ She loosened her hold on his hand, which remained hovering for an instant before sinking nervelessly to rest on her thigh. Vincent's eyes followed as, with delicate fingertips she touched her breasts, stroking across nipples pulled tight with passion, trailing a slow, lazy path down to where her thatch of long, silky curls started. His gaze intensified, eyes becoming hotly luminous as her hands took up position on either side of the full, soft folds of skin lying between her legs. Slowly she parted the thick hair and lips, revealing the gleaming rose-satin of her hidden, inner flesh, now somewhat obscured by his penetration, flushed dark with love and passion.
������ "Touch me, my love."
������ Vincent watched helplessly as his hand rose, seemingly of its own volition, and touched the moist, rosy skin before him. He hesitated, hearing the beat of his heart like thunder in his ears, then gently placed his thumb over the tender bud at the top of her cleft, pressing delicately, and began a slow, barely perceptible motion - instinctively applying pressure not friction.
������ Catherine groaned. ::Yes! God, yes, Vincent! More! See how your touch excites me.:: Her fingers moved in closer to his then outward again, opening her even more. He stared in fascination. The most secret core of her womanhood lay fully exposed to his gaze, tiny, erect, tautly glistening. Slowly, Vincent moved his thumb in a small, infinitely delicate circle over the pearly tip.
������ Immediately Catherine shuddered, crying out incoherently. Lightning raced through their bond and Vincent gasped at the scalding pleasure which splintered him with hot, electric needles. He watched as her tissues became engorged with passion, felt a faint throbbing beneath his fingers. His heart was racing out of control, threatening to suffocate him; a strangled growl was torn from deep in his throat and his breath came in harsh, ragged gasps as currents of flame washed over him.
������ Instinctively, he drove upward with his hips, surging deep into the velvety, damp hotness that sheathed him so perfectly. Again and again Vincent thrust into her warmth. His hands followed the rise and fall of her body above him. Without thought, the motion of his fingers increased, harder and faster, as Vincent hungrily feasted on her unleashed passion - and his.
������ Catherine flinched and stilled his hand with her own. ::Gently, love; gently.::
������ With a silent apology, Vincent resumed the gentler, more delicate pressure, watching with eyes that were molten sapphires as Catherine's lashes fluttered shut and a heavy flush swept upward from her heaving chest. Her lips parted in silent supplication; her head fell back - and Vincent groaned helplessly. The raging swell of her passion broke over him, crashing wildly, deeply into his own seething desire. Together they crested the torrential, blinding wave of orgasm while the world exploded around them.
������ An immeasurable time later, Catherine lay atop Vincent, quivering in every nerve, feeling the trembling of the strong arms holding her. She pressed her face more deeply into the curve of his neck, smiled as she felt the racing of his pulse. The sound of their ecstasy still echoed throughout the room, broken only by their quick breathing.
������ At length, Catherine stirred. Lifting her head, she pressed a kiss onto Vincent's chin. "Good morning." There was no answer; Vincent's eyes remained closed. She sat up.
������ "Vincent?" Still no response. Feeling a twinge of concern, Catherine slid off and knelt by Vincent's side.
������ "Vincent." She stared down at his unresponsive face, and her anxiety grew. Had she been too blatant? Maybe... maybe she should not have been so aggressive with him? After last night, it was hard to remember that in many ways he was still quite innocent about the various forms which passion could take. Had she shocked him? Or - or worse? Oh, God, what was he feeling?
������ "Vincent, talk to me!" she pleaded. Desperately Catherine tried to plumb his feelings, only to come up against
a blank wall where the bond should be. He's blocked me off!
������ "What would you have me say, Catherine?" His voice was a low monotone, revealing nothing of his emotions.
������ "Tell me what you're feeling!" She bit her lip hard as she searched his face, desperate for a clue to his behavior.
His sudden movement took her completely unawares.
������ With a swift, dexterous twist of his body, Vincent had her flat on her back, covering her with his powerful weight.
With one hand he captured both her own, pinning them above her head and stared down at her with dark, smoldering eyes whose expression she could not read. Too surprised to protest, Catherine stared back.
������ "You wish me to tell you my feelings, Catherine?" His voice was low and deep, almost guttural. "Shall I tell you,
then, that never, not even in my most secret, shame-filled dreams, did I suspect I was capable of such feelings, of such overpowering...lust? Shall I tell you that I feel like an animal?"
On To Part Two