In the Light of Day
Kate's body ached, stiff from the hours spent curled there on her side, her weary eyes fixated on the red glow of the clock beside her bed. On that night more than any recent other, the hope of sleep was painfully beyond her reach, because as the numbers ticked towards morning without urgency, cruelly, as though time derived some sort of demented pleasure from her torment, all she could seem to do was think about him.
Rick was out there, standing guard on the couch just steps from her bedroom door, his able body leaving its imprint on the fabric of her sanctuary. She couldn't see him or hear him, but she could feel his energy around her still. She fought in vain against the interlopers, the visions that swept through her mind despite her every objection - visions of him, of them, visions that had no place injecting themselves into her current circumstance.
Her eyelids were heavy with fatigue but her mind wouldn't relent. There were bodies on her conscience, bodies of innocents fallen victim to a madman, and all in her name. The constraint of her self-imposed shackle of responsibility was inescapably oppressive, and she thought of Rick, her fictional counterpart's creator, her partner, no doubt burdened with like emotion, though, like she, rational enough to understand the inherent fallacy in the acceptance of such blame. She felt certain that he too could be mired deep in a common internal battle.
It was then that she heard it, as a new hour began before her eyes, the unmistakable creak of old wood under foot, and though he moved with care, she'd long since cataloged every sound her apartment made - a cop's curse, to be sure - and she knew Rick was near.
Her bedroom door pushed open and she remained deliberately still, watching clandestinely as he moved across the room, using only the scant light yielded by her clock as his guide. He found path to the chair in the corner and he sat, near enough for her to distinguish only the silhouette of his form, her pulse quickening as his presence filled the room. Minutes went by. It wasn't as she'd imagined at all; it was much more, the feeling of sharing such intimate and personal space with him.
"Why did you come here tonight?" Kate asked into the darkness, the words escaping her lips absent forethought or sanction.
Rick held silent, startled by her voice and uncertain of his own.
"Rick?" she prodded gently as she altered her position on the bed, shifting upright to face him.
"Because I knew you'd never ask me," he answered, "and because it was all I could give you." His frustration was palpable and his tone a reflection of it. "I'm not a cop. I don't have any resources to bring to bear here, and the thought of something happening to you is-" He swallowed the words he knew he shouldn't yet say. "I'm sorry. Are you…do you want me to go?"
Every part of her screamed in opposition, yet she said nothing, the resulting hush between them deafening. Rick pushed from the chair, finally, with no encouragement from her to remain, his eyes adjusted enough to the room's light to allow him to recognize her outline at the edge of the bed, but as he crossed in front of her to go, she reached out and grabbed for his arm, stopped him in his tracks.
"Kate," he said, meekly and audibly addled.
She pulled him in close, tucking her legs up beneath her and kneeling before him on the bed, her height a near match for his. She brushed her thumb over his lip and he shivered at her touch. "No, Castle," she whispered, "I don't want you to go." Without hesitation or indecision, she leaned into him with her whole body and he accepted her, the beginning frantic, their suppressed hunger for each other wild and longing for release.
She broke from him reluctantly but with purpose, pulling at his sweater until she'd freed him, his skin heated and exposed. She dropped the fabric to the floor and drew her fingertips up the length of his torso, over his chest, and into his already mussed hair, clutching it in wait for what was surely to come.
Her hastened breaths roused his desire by the second, and his need of her grew to a level he couldn't recall ever experiencing. "Tell me," he insisted with a mild air of conceit, her fingers still holding firm.
"Tell you what?" Kate responded playfully, inching backwards on the bed and pulling him along with her.
"Tell me what you want," he said, moving willingly with her insistence. "I want to hear you say it."
She rolled him onto his back without warning, her body straddling his belly, her palms flat against his shoulders, pinning him in place. "Say what exactly, Castle?" She leaned in and traced the tip of her tongue along the flat of his neck. "Say that I've thought about this?" Her teeth nipped at his earlobe. "Say that I've wanted to know what this would feel like since the day we met?" Her warm breath tickled at his lips as she pushed back and met his arousal. "Say that I want this as much as I can feel you do? Is that what you want me to say?"
Rick's body surged upward from the bed, drawing strength from the pure adrenaline coursing through him. He pulled her in against him, the muscles of her thighs quivering as they clung to his hips, her center aligned exquisitely with the titillating manifestation of his desire. His lips marked a path from her clavicle to her mouth, which he seized avidly, sending a bolt of electricity through her entire body, as he rocked gently beneath her.
Kate pulled back firmly on his hair, desperate for a moment of relief from his vigor which already had her on the verge of climax. She pressed her open mouth against his, forced him flat against the mattress once again. She relished the position of power, the advantages it afforded, but he did as well, and he wanted his turn. He spun them wildly, rolling dangerously close to the bed's edge and eliciting a shared burst of laughter. "Smooth," she teased, her body now pinned beneath the weight of his half-clothed frame. "Very smooth."
"Oh, I'd like to find out," he quipped, sliding lower in search of his answer. He maneuvered her legs apart, using his own as his tool, his fingers dipping below the band of the cotton leggings at her hips. He tugged at them slowly, teasingly, her body lifting from the bed without urging, eager to facilitate. He hooked a hand beneath her right knee, guided it into her body just enough to free her leg from the restraint of the garment, and as her limb dropped back down to the bed, it fell open, granting him the access he so longed for.
He accepted her unspoken invitation without pause, and his tongue was on her in seconds. Her body arched and shuddered in response but his mouth never broke contact. Without discernible pattern, he circled and explored her, delicate moans encouraging him, arousing him further. His name spilled from her mouth on an exhale as he struck the heart of her craving, her leg now perched atop his back.
And he knew. Despite the unfamiliar paths of his new journey, he knew her body as he'd come to know her mind, and he increased the pressure and the speed of his movements accordingly, until the release of pleasure washed over her like a wave. She writhed beneath him as her warmth coated his lips, glistening though neither could see. His head came to rest at her hip, her scent in the air around him, a bewitching combination of floral soap and musk. She grabbed again at his hair, the only thing within her reach, and then she remained there still, save for the uncontrollable twitch that lingered as a delicious token.
"Very smooth," he spoke into the silence with an audible grin. "Just as I imagined it."
"I certainly hope you weren't imagining such things during work hours, Mr. Castle," she teased, "though, now that I think about it, that might actually explain a few things."
Her soft giggle prompted his crawl back up her body. "Do I work next to you all day long, Detective?" he inquired, somewhat rhetorically.
"Well, work is questionable, but in the interest of time, I'll just say yes, yes you do," Kate said, pinching the skin of his arm playfully.
"Then I've imagined such things during work hours," he continued, his mouth finding her ear in the darkness. "You gonna fire me now?"
"Not exactly the f-word I had in mind, actually," Kate replied without reserve, her hand angling for the buckle of his belt.
"Naughty," he said in pure form. "I approve."
A knowing hum was all he heard as she managed to loosen the leather and free him from the restriction of his denim barrier. He was exquisitely firm in her hand, and she ached to feel him inside her, another minute too long to wait. She pulled his remaining clothes from his body and climbed over his hips once more, guiding him as she lowered herself over him gradually, wanting to memorize every second of the sensation. Each surrendered a faint sound of ecstasy at the contact, the pressure, the incomparable fit of the other. And then she began to move.
It was slow at first, the roll of her hips, the slight shift up and down. His fingers dug at her hips as his eyes fought the darkness for a glimpse of her face as she gave and took, and he felt it building inside of him, though he never wanted the euphoria to end.
He increased his motion as he felt her do the same, and with one final whisper of her name, he allowed himself release, her fingers woven with his at her side. She dropped gently to his chest, their bodies still connected, warm, rumpled sheets below.
"That was…" he sputtered, losing his words mid-sentence.
"It was," Kate purred, matching him thought for thought before the room fell silent with sleep.
xxxx
The morning's alarm rang out too short a time later, and Kate smacked at the clock defiantly. She rolled onto her back and rubbed at her eyes with the hint of a smile she could feel. She was alone, but she could smell the caffeine wafting in from the hallway and she knew. She knew Rick was still there, as he promised he would be.
Brushing the sheets aside, she found herself fully dressed, and though she hadn't remembered when or how, that didn't matter. All she wanted was that first new moment with him, after a most wonderfully unexpected night.
"Hey, good morning," he said, spotting her watching him from across the room. "Did you sleep at all? You look terrible."
"I...um..." she stammered in near silent tone, all that would come out.
"Well, your couch is surprisingly comfortable, so I slept like a log. Can I pour you some coffee? It's still hot."
She managed to make it the few steps to the nearest piece of furniture, which she clutched with the small amount of strength that hadn't in an instant drained from her body.
It had all been a dream.