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

Hot Stuff

Angie

"Thoughts, that breathe, and words, that burn"

-Thomas Gray

 

Catherine opened her eyes and knew immediately that Vincent had already left the brownstone. She glanced at the clock. It was only 7:15! He seemed to be getting up early these days, and leaving quickly as well – if she didn’t distract him before he could do so. That particular distraction allowed her another hour of luxurious sleep. She didn’t work to a schedule, but she liked to be in the Foundation office next door by 10:00.

It was chilly in the attic, even with the extra insulation she had had installed during the renovation. The winter seemed extremely cold this year and she shivered as she thought about getting out of the nice warm bed.

Vincent, now she thought about it, didn’t feel the cold as other mere mortals did. The relatively chilly tunnels were still where he felt most comfortable. He was lovely to snuggle up to and he warmed her better than any heater – and right through to her soul.

Why did he leave so early? She seemed to remember hearing him take a shower before she dozed off after their early morning lovemaking.

Now she was curious, an emotion she was sure she had learned from Vincent, whose curiosity was renowned. What on earth was he doing in the tunnels so early anyhow? Some secret project? A major pipe repair?

Catherine put aside the mystery and spent the morning catching up on her work, then decided she might as well go down to the dining hall for lunch. She put on a thick padded jacket and headed below. The upper tunnels were definitely cold and she rushed along, taking the fastest downward route to where the temperature was more moderate. The dining hall, when she reached it, was a lot warmer and full of friends. She spotted Vincent talking to Father and approached him. He turned with an expression on his face she could only call "guilty". Why that? she wondered.

She said nothing and let him hug her and burrowed into his chest. He certainly was wearing fewer layers and yet was still nice and warm. Perhaps he’d been helping William in the kitchen. He held her close until she stopped shivering and then dropped a kiss on her nose when she looked up at him at last.

"Your nose is cold, Catherine."

"I’ll bet yours isn’t, if I could reach it. You’re warm everywhere."

"Catherine, the tip of my nose is probably the coolest part of me ..."

He stopped, flushed a little, and looked uncomfortable.

"What is it, Vincent?" she asked, now very curious. He wasn’t particularly sensitive about his appearance anymore. What was bothering him?

"I just remembered I left my gloves in the pipe chamber. I seared my hands on those steam pipes we were fixing before I remembered the gloves."

"Let me see."

She pulled his hands to her and turned them over. They did look a little red.

"I think they’re okay," she said, planting a kiss on the palm of one and then the other. They were warm too. She wrapped the hands around hers and let his warmth soak into them. She never tired of the feel of his hands – anywhere. She felt Vincent’s reaction to that emotion and smiled to herself.

"Catherine, you are chilly. Let me get you some hot lunch."

He extracted his hands, turned and marched to the buffet, returning with two bowls, and a plate with grainy rolls and brownies. She sat down beside him and tucked in. The soup was a wonderful thick pea with sausages and she wolfed it down, feeling it warm her to her bones. The rolls were spread with a spicy pate – and delicious too. No wonder she couldn’t be bothered to cook much! William did it so much better.

"What are you doing this afternoon," she asked him at last, between bites of brownie. She could think of another warming-up activity.

"We are almost finished the repairs. I should be back home by mid-afternoon, after I clean up."

"Nonsense, Vincent. Have a bath – or shower – at home. You don’t want to walk the tunnels with wet hair. Maybe I’ll join you. We haven’t had a bath or shower together in ages. I have to help sort some boxes of donated clothing, and it’s a grubby job."

"Yes, some of that stuff has probably been in storage for years. It makes me sneeze. Give my regards to Annabelle."

Annabelle was their seamstress and quartermaster.

"Why don’t you tell her yourself?"

"Catherine, you know I hate being fawned over by a lot of women. They look at me as if they’re sizing me up for … something ... or just checking my size."

Catherine laughed.

"Vincent, if anything, you look slimmer than ever. Winter must agree with you. You sure don’t seem to be bundling up like the rest of us."

"I do not feel the cold. You know that, Catherine."

"All right, well, I’ll see you back home later. I’ll bring dinner back with me. We can sit by the fireplace and read to each other."

"That would be wonderful."

Vincent finished off his tea and made a fast retreat and worked hard with the other men until the repairs in the pipe chamber were done. Pascal immediately started catching up on messages.

Catherine sensed that Vincent was heading home and decided to follow him. She said her good-byes to the sewing group and winked at Annabelle, who nodded. They were old conspirators where Vincent was concerned. She picked up the hamper William had prepared for her and thanked him with a kiss that made him blush.

She carefully kept her emotions controlled as she walked home, thinking about sewing, humming quietly to herself. She entered the brownstone equally quietly, dropped the hamper on the kitchen table, and padded upstairs. Vincent had lit the fireplace and she could hear the shower. Perfect.

Since he always left home quickly after his morning shower, was there something about that which was bothering him? What was he hiding? Had he developed a rash? Would she have noticed? Perhaps not. Well, she had to know. It was going to be warm in there, so she quickly shed all her dusty clothes and put on a robe against the chilly room. She could discard it quickly. She was still maintaining a distant calm. She could still surprise him, if she was careful and he was distracted.

She slid quietly along the floor to the bathroom door and waited until she heard Vincent turn off the shower, step out of the tub and begin to dry himself. Then she heard him grunting as he rubbed.

Was he in pain? She had to know. She shrugged out of her robe, whisked open the door and dashed in.

"You didn’t wait for me," she chided as she closed the door behind her.

Vincent spun around to look at her and what she saw made her jaw drop.

He seemed to be surrounded by a halo. It took her a moment to realize what it was.

He looked at the ceiling and rolled his eyes, his mouth turned down in embarrassment, his face now beet red.

"Catherine!"

He was something to see - and not just in the usual place, although that was as impressive as always. Every hair on his head seemed to be twice its volume. His nose hair was fluffed up and his chin and cheek hair looked almost misty. He looked larger than normal because his body hair stood out like an aura around him.

Catherine realized, belatedly, that there WAS more of his hair than she was used to. Then she understood.

She was dying to get her hands on him and he must have caught her intent, because he stood still. She moved to lean against him, running her hands up his thighs, then around his waist and up his back. He dropped the towel and drew her close with a huge sigh.

"Oh Vincent, you’re so beautifully soft – even more than usual! Why didn’t you tell me?"

"That I grow more fur in the winter, like every other beast in this hemisphere? Catherine!"

She looked up at him, sharp anger inside her.

"Don’t you ever use that word in that way again, Vincent! You are not a beast, and you’re certainly like no one else on this planet! How many times do I have to tell you? I love you, all of you, in all ways. Is this why you were leaving so early?"

Vincent hung his head.

"You do not understand. I must take a long walk in the cool tunnels, just to get my facial hair to return to normal. I look like a guinea pig."

Something nagged at Catherine – and suddenly she realized what it was.

"You mean this is something new for you?"

"Yes. I’ve spent all my life underground. There are cold places, ice caves even, but the living tunnels are much the same temperature all year. It’s cool, but I’m used to it.

"However, since moving into this brownstone, I’ve been outside in the garden and our attic is cold. My …um … fur has thickened. I have to wear less clothing."

"And exactly what is wrong with being warm in the winter, Vincent? I’m certainly glad you are."

She proved it by snuggling up even closer to him and felt his arousal against her stomach in response to her own.

Vincent sighed again. In retrospect, he could not have kept this from Catherine for long. She was a trained observer.

She looked up at him, still sensing his unease.

"I can understand how you might not want to go below with your face all fluffed up, but there’s an easier way than long walks in cold places."

"And what would that be?" Vincent asked, sure he already knew the answer.

"Just open the bathroom door and the window, and put on the fan. Without the steam, you won’t fluff up – or if you do, it’ll go back to normal quickly."

"But that will create a cold draft that will make the attic even colder," Vincent reasoned.

"And you have to get up and get ready for work. That’s hardly fair."

"Vincent, we can light the fire, but I don’t mind that our bedroom is chilly. Wakes me up. But I know what else will work."

She reached down between them and he groaned. He knew what she was thinking.

"Catherine, if we make love every time I have a shower, we’ll both be late."

"You don’t have to come back to bed, just do some morning floor exercises. You know, like ... whatever. I’ll watch you and let you know when it’s worked. Nicer than cold walks in the tunnels."

"Yes. But you know what will happen if you watch me."

Catherine snorted. He was right of course. She sighed.

"Okay then, just do your exercises in the spare room. But don’t leave so early! We can have breakfast together at least."

"Very well."

"And speaking of food, we have dinner waiting down in the kitchen. But first I want a shower. I’d love a helping hand."

Vincent lifted her into the shower, turned on the water and jumped in after her.

Catherine felt his delight as he washed her and realized she had missed their joint showers as much as he. Drying afterwards was even better. It led to the inevitable – but that was fine too.

"Hot stuff," Catherine remarked later, over the hot and wonderful stew William had provided them.

"William is a treasure," Vincent agreed, after he had swallowed a mouthful of buttered rye bread.

"I meant you, my love," Catherine corrected him.

Vincent looked at her, his wonderment plain on his face. He shook his head in amazement.

Catherine smiled at him. There was no need for words. Their love flowed along their bond, warming them both.

END