Arpeggios

by Kate Andrews

Mud sucked at his boots and made every step treacherous,threatening to topple him and the bundle of two by fours carried onhis shoulder. Vincent heard a mumbled curse from behind and theunmistakable thud of a body smacking into the rock wall. Repairingwater leaks was dirty, cold work. It took hours--hiking to the leak,ferrying all the materials needed, standing in mud or water whilethey reinforced the support structure and repaired the pipe joints.Only after the job was complete, the threat of discovery by the Citywork crews held at bay for yet another week, and the stink of the mudwashed away in the mineral pools did the pride of workmanship descendon them for a few minutes before sleep claimed each one.

The current project had consumed most of the last week withintermittent respites when they thought the job finished only toreturn a few hours later to a new leak. Water was a very determinedsubstance, Vincent decided. Never content to stay within the boundsset for it, always searching, probing for a new route and wearingaway at stone and earth, squeezing through tiny cracks to adestination known only to the water molecules.

The whole business had played havoc with any thought Vincent mighthave had about spending time with his family. Jacob was too young tounderstand about duty and responsibility. Catherine, on the otherhand, understood only too well--her patient tolerance was tinged withwistfulness. He knew she wondered when they'd ever have time aloneagain.

Standing in four inches of water with a two by four braced forCullen to nail into place, he had time to think about the concert atMet next Friday. It had been the focus of an article he'd read in thenewspaper in a quiet moment before the newest leak had beendiscovered.

Perhaps... just perhaps, if the water gods cooperate...

* * * * *

The clamor in the office dwindled as desk drawers were locked,files tucked into briefcases and fervent prayers were sent Heavenwardas they glanced fearfully in the direction of Moreno's office: justlet me get out the door before something else hits the fan!

Pencil scribbling furiously, Catherine Chandler filled page afterpage of the evidence pad with the essential facts from a pile ofdepositions. Her left index finger helped to guide her eye down thepages in her search for the important facts that would be thebuilding blocks of their case.

She was so immersed into her task that some moments passed beforethe lack of sound penetrated her consciousness and caused her toglance up. The whirr of the copier at the end of the room indicatedshe was not the only one left. She spared a second to stare at theclock.

It can't be six, not yet! She thumbed through the rest of thedepositions, another three inches worth of testimonies to beoutlined. Two nights this week she'd stayed late, it wasn't fair toVincent... Come on, Cath, be honest, she urged silently, you want tobe home as much as he wants you there.

Home, it had such a nice ring. She leaned her chin on her handwith a sigh. Living Below and commuting made for some very long days,especially when pre-trial preparation went into high gear. If shedidn't stay late, then it was usually because she took work home; andwhile it was nicer working in their own sitting room with Vincentreading in the big chair nearby and Jacob sleeping in his crib, itwas certainly taking a toll on their time together lately. This week,though, Vincent had been repairing water leaks and had arrived intheir chamber exhausted. He tried to stay awake long enough to askabout her day, but was usually asleep before she could answer.

Well, the choice was clear, stay or take it home. Catherine sighedweighing the pros and cons.

"Radcliffe, if they gave an award for looking pitifullyoverworked, you'd be a shoe-in." Joe Maxwell leaned against the wallof her cubicle, tie loosened, the top shirt button unfastened, hissuit coat swinging from one finger and a briefcase in the other hand.He gestured at the piles on her desk, "Bodlinger?"

"One and the same," Catherine replied. "Depositions by the pound.I think they're trying to clog the system with paper."

"Moreno thinks they're going to go for another continuance."

"Not again, Joe! The family has been through so much and we're noteven to trial yet. Can we block it?" Catherine shuddered at thethought of trying to explain to Frances Evans that the man who killedher elderly mother was to be given still more time to prepare hisdefense.

"Moreno says we'll plan strategy on Tuesday. So go home, Cathy,there's not much more you can do here tonight and it's a three-dayweekend. Give it a rest for a day or two."

"Not a day or three?" she teased. He was right, she needed abreak, needed to back up and get a different perspective on the wholething. Catherine needed no further urging and scooped the depositionsinto her briefcase with the scribbled notes. Once the decision wasmade it took only half a minute to clear her desk and be ready toleave.

Once out on the sidewalk, she decided to walk rather than fightfor a cab in the mad scramble to exit the city for the weekend. Herthoughts turned homeward where her son and husband awaited herarrival; well, at least Jacob would be waiting. Vincent, Cullen,Mouse and others of the work crew had worked nearly non-stop for thelast ten days on one leak after another.

I'll go with him to help, tomorrow, she vowed. Better to be wetand miserable, together! She grinned at the thought of washing awaythe mud from each other in the bathing chamber. A frisson of desirerippled through her and brought a soft glow to her face before sheclamped down on the thought. No point in sending those kinds offeelings skittering through the bond to distract him while he wasworking. But, later....

* * * * *

Father's eyebrows rose at the sight of a muddy Vincent in theportal to his study. He leaned against the stone as if too weary tostand up straight.

"Dare I ask?" Father inquired, thinking Vincent might have fallenif he hadn't been leaning against the rock wall.

"For the moment. I've asked the sentries to watch carefully andnotify me at the first sign of another problem."

"You need to rest, Vincent. I'll listen for the sentries. Perhapsa short nap?" He said the word with trepidation and waited for aprotest. He saw the weary nod and barely heard the muttered Thankyou, Father.

Vincent had intended to bathe first, but after dragging off hiswet, muddy clothes, his bed was just too inviting and he decided torest for just a minute. He woke an hour later and would have justturned over and drifted back to sleep had the bond not told him thatCatherine had left her office. He swung his legs over the edge andlurched to his feet, still half-asleep. Habit guided his hands to thearmoire for clean clothes before ducking out toward the bathingchambers. If he hurried, he could meet Catherine at the Parkthreshold.

* * * * *

The brisk walk through the Park to the threshold brushed away thestress of the day. Even the screech of the gate seemed welcoming asshe reached up and tripped the lever to open the door. She heardJacob's babble of delight as the door rolled back and found himbouncing joyfully in Vincent's arms.

"Ma-Ma, Ma-Ma," he declared and lunged forward as though he'dgrown wings. Only fast action by his father saved him from atumble.

"Did I hear right?" Catherine said in wonder.

"Your son welcomes you home with his first words," Vincent said,depositing the squirming child in her arms. "Your husband is glad tosee you, also," he added and leaned down to kiss her.

The kiss, although brief, seemed to ignite a spark that threatenedto firestorm. A slightly breathless Vincent reached down to takeCatherine's briefcase after flipping the lever to close the thresholddoor. Catherine leaned against him with Jacob riding on her oppositehip.

"I could get very spoiled by this kind of welcome." She offeredher mouth to him while her eyes promised him delights beyondimagining when their child was tucked in for the night.

Not one to let opportunity pass him by, now that all the barriershe had placed between himself and Catherine so many times in the pastwere but fleeting memories, Vincent drew her close before claimingher lips with his own. Tunnel walls faded away with the full openingof the bond--their feelings meshed so completely that they seemed ofone body, one mind. A squeal from Jacob drew them apart with laughterwhen they saw his little mouth pursed up as if to say, who's going tokiss me? They both leaned down to kiss a downy cheek and he rewardedthem with little pats to each face.

On the walk to the Hub, Vincent told Catherine he'd arranged forBrooke to sit with Jacob after he was asleep, and water godsnotwithstanding, they were going to listen to a concert.

"I remember how we enjoyed Mischa Dichter last summer when heplayed in the Park. He's scheduled into the Met for a recital thisevening. We haven't visited our special place for a while..." Heallowed his desire to bloom on his face in answer to her heightenedcolor from what were obviously warm thoughts of their last sojourn tothe chamber beneath the Met.

She reached up to kiss him again, catching the corner of hismouth. "I feel so sorry for other women," she said and at hisquizzical look, continued. "They have to be content with second bestwhen it comes to husbands because I got number one!" She watched himduck his head as though to hide his emotions and grabbed a strand ofthe redgold mane to halt the maneuver. He looked at her, startled bythe tug.

"I mean it, Vincent, no one could ever make me as happy. I loveyou so!"

He was surprised to see the shimmer of tears in her eyes. In thebond there was a hint of sorrow underlying her joy, as if she worriedthat this love might somehow be snatched away. Gently he brushed theone tear away then bent to kiss the spot.

"Catherine."

* * * * *

He lifted her effortlessly and she wove her arms around his neckas he allowed her to slide down his body inch by inch until her legsreached out to clasp him around the hips. Clinging to him like alimpet she breathed a flurry of kisses from brow to jaw before hismouth claimed hers. The broad muscles of his shoulders and back werecovered with a layer of crisp golden hair that whorled deliciouslyunder her fingers. So unusual to be at this height and lean down intohis embrace.

The slightest touch of his tongue urged her lips apart and hebreathed her name into her mouth. The gentle rasping swirled acrossher lips.

Deep in her throat she moaned with her burgeoning need and heanswered her with a tightening of his one arm around her waist. Withthe lightest of touches he reached beneath her dress already hiked uparound her waist, up the rib cage until he could follow the rib tothe curve of her breast and cup its warmth in his hand. She shiveredand against his hand he felt her arousal harden into a peak.

Gasping she tore her mouth away from his, "love me... love menow," she urged and followed the words whispered in his ear with hermoist tongue to urge him on.

With his thumb he teased the hardness that pressed against hispalm and felt the beginning circling of her hips in matching rhythmto his stroking. He reached out then to touch their bond and felt thebuilding tension and knew she was close. Never when he thought oftheir connection had he ever envisioned that this would be part ofit--the swelling of his own ardor and the sweet sensual touch of herarousal within him.

But he was not willing to settle for such a quick end and shiftedher weight in his arms. He heard and felt her groan of frustrationwhen he pulled his hand away from her. He reached up and stripped thedress from her, and pulled her close--skin to skin. Claws traileddown her back with the most feathery of sensations.

"Please... please... "

She begged him, kissing him deeply and sucking gently on his fulllower lip. Her need beat at him and he shifted her again until shesat against his chest, each buttock supported by one of his hands.His ring fingers and little fingers touched the slippery wetnessjolting a gasp from her. The pads of his fingers caressed her flesh,rippling in unconscious rhythm with the crescendoing arpeggiosoverhead. Catherine's body mirrored the strokes in the movement ofher hips.

It was exquisite torture and she dropped her head back, turning itfrom side to side and exposing her neck to his mouth. He bit andsucked at the smooth skin she offered to him. And still he continuedto massage her with the pads of his fingers until she began to pressagainst his hands in that age-old counterpoint.

Tension built and tightened her muscles until her legs jumped andtwitched. Vincent braced himself with legs wide apart on the stonefloor and played her with the skill of a concert pianist. He felt herhovering and with a final stroke sent her tumbling over the edge. Itwas if the world stood still and them deep inside he felt the spasmsthat shook her and made her clutch at him as if she weredrowning.

They lay side by side on the pallet, his last pieces of clothingcast aside. The feel of her body so sweet against his as herbreathing gradually slowed. She reached out to him and kissedhim.

"Let me... touch you, Vincent."

The slender fingers trailed across the heavily muscled shoulder tothe spine, barely brushing the skin. Below the lean waist,feather-light touches teased the nether cheeks then slipped betweenthe thighs. With the tiniest pressure the fingers urged the thighsapart and delicately explored the treasures revealed. The bodybeneath the hand shifted to make room for the need that pulsedagainst the cool sheet.

One small candle lit the chamber with enough light for each to seethe other and enhance their enjoyment. Catherine watched the gooseflesh rise on Vincent's back as she continued to touch and explore.The first urgent edge was gone and she found the slow pleasuring ofhis body extremely arousing.

With the most delicate of touches, she drew her fingers down hisback from neck to tailbone, skimming the soft hair that covered him,again. He arched his back to her touch begging silently for hercaresses against that most sensitive spot at the end of his spine.She obliged him briefly then drew her fingers away and turning theopposite direction.

His feet were surprisingly slender partially due to the fact healways wore boots which made them look larger. Catherine ran herthumbs along each side of the arch then massaged the ball of hisfoot. She wiggled his toes in This Little Piggy rhythm and wasrewarded with a fluttering of the pampered digits. Again she drew herfingers across the skin and up the back of both legs, graduallyurging his thighs further apart. Gently she slipped her hand beneathhim to touch the delicate globes she found there.

His world had shrunk to the size of two small hands, warm andsoft, they touched him and every place they touched smoldered likeembers--ready to burst into flame. It mattered not that those handstouched him in places too private to name. The open throbbing oftheir bond told him how she loved to touch him and her love sweptaway the inhibitions of a lifetime. Only in her presence with theirlove surging in the bond, did he shed his clothes gladly and revel inthe intimacy she offered.

The hands touched his hips with gentle lifting motions and he roseupon his knees to allow her more freedom. Her warm breath on his hippreceded a trail of kisses as she slithered beneath him with thegrace of an otter; he lifted himself on arms that quivered with thepower of his need, to allow her more room.

Slowly she trailed kisses from his hip to the middle of hisstomach then followed the hairline toward his waist. She squirmedbackward pulling herself by her elbows and shoulders until she couldreach his chest. She laved a nipple with her tongue, teasing it to atiny peak that mirrored her own. From above her she heard him groanthat was so nearly a growl--sign of his growing arousal. Her teethgrazed the tiny peak and then she blew gently, eliciting anothergroan.

Balanced on hands and knees, Vincent began to curl his hipsforward in time with the loving strokes of Catherine's tongue. Hewhispered her name and when she lifted her face to him, kissed herdeeply. Their tongues swirled together in a timeless dance known tolovers across the ages.

Catherine slid her hands down over his ribs then lower to thepulsing evidence of his desire for her. She touched with exquisitedelicacy the warmth that jumped and quivered under her ministeringfingers. He tore his mouth away from her to breathe into her ear.

"Catherine, I need... I need you. Let me... love you!

It was only when they were deeply aroused that the bond opened toCatherine. His desire poured over her bringing her instantly to thesame fever pitch. She braced her feet and rose to meet him. Gentlyshe guided him to her slickness and could not stop the moan from deepin her throat as he sank slowly into her, filling her with hiswarmth.

High above them the crescendoing arpeggios rose drove toward theconclusion guided by the controlling hands of the maestro. The soundechoed through the bedrock into the chamber far below where twolovers strained together in quest for the ultimate joining. Twice hepulled away from her nearly separating them before ramming his lovehome to her welcome.

Catherine clung to his shoulders and urged him on with littlecries of Yes, and please. She hovered below the pinnacle and then hispassion drove her into the white-hot heat and from a distance sheheard him roar her name as he peaked with her.

She became aware of the great heart thundering in her ear whereshe lay across his chest. He had rolled partially onto his back whilethey were still joined to avoid crushing her.

"Thank you... for the... lovely... evening..." she gasped followedby a wheezy little chuckle.

"We must... do this... again... sometime" he responded. And in themanner of lovers, they snuggled together and laughed gentle laughter,positive no one had ever loved as they.