M rated.
She loved seeing themselves in the mirror above the dresser in his bedroom. It was like catching lightning, entering in an electric shock and adding it to the swaying of their bodies moving in sync, her curls over her breasts side-to-side, bosom up and down, his hands on her hips encompassing their rhythm. The back of her skull on his shoulder but in a pose where she could have her sight directed toward the reflected image on the mirror.
Just hard breathings and faint, sweet moans could be heard over the low rocking of the mattress.
All he could see was the soft drops of sweat making her golden-brown hair stick to her forehead and temple and her hands shifting back and forth on her figure, to her breasts, her hair, moving to caress the side of his face, melting her fingers in the softness of his hair, going down to her stomach, to finally land over his on her hips.
The ardent, intense atmosphere made of this one of the best encounters they have had yet. When they did it like that, on their knees, in the centre of the bed, watching, their reflection staring back at them, moving along with them in the squared-mirror. It was so damn good, they could just spend all day thinking about it, engrossed in the memories of their past rendezvous, when the weight of their jobs made their intimate encounters the only way of escaping those frustrating hours, to completely give themselves one-another, those ephemeral hours of reassuring calm, neglecting the why and the what next of their actions.
At first they let themselves just watch, eyes fixed in each other's bodies until they fell off the cliff together, but as the days and their 'meetings' kept going, they let themselves just enjoy by gazes that coincided in the mirror, powerful, full of not-uttered words; hazel and blue quivering, spreading. Everything said in their glances but, in fact, not saying anything. At all.
Closing his eyes, just listening, straining his ears, feeling without seeing; it's not the same. Opening his eyes again, seeking for hers; they find each other. As if a bed of thin mist covered her eyes. One of them breaks the connection.
Sweat glistening on their bodies and her spine arched, his pelvis slapping to her buttocks, adding to the sounds of hard breathings and moans, her breasts pointing outwards. Head backward, thick lips half-opened, curls shared between shoulders, his hairy arm across her stomach and to her clavicle, in between her breasts, supporting their position, their bodies, movements increasing, his thrusts becoming sloppier. She senses it, feels it, needs it too. Putting her arm over his across her frame, she moves it to interlace their fingers, shifting and settling their hands on the mattress, changing their position. Now on their hands and knees, rhythm escalating rapidly, she finally lays all the way on the mattress, forcing Castle to do the same but his support being her back. Her body rocking upwards into his, delicious friction with the sheets.
He squeezes her hand under his, knowing this is about to end, and finally, finally they arrive together.
They stay like that for some time, and that's enough to forget about everything, only what they have done in their minds, the pleasure. It's a moment of perfection.
He slips out of her, his body immediately regretting the action. Hers too. Moving onto his back and exhaling, he startles when he hears a quiet laugh beside him, turning his face, the image he's presented is not normal: Kate is still in the same posture and is looking at him, peaceful, but muffled laugh is arriving to his hears. With his brow furrowed he asks:
−What are you laughing at? –
Kate just wriggles a little and settles her leg in between both of his, arm across his chest, and head cushioned in his shoulder, she answers:
−It's just funny that the most impressive, mind-blowing orgasms I've had until now are the ones when we are watching our reflection…− she leaves it hanging there.
He feels a little grin plastered into his skin, and the pad of a finger running up and down -surprising him- in his chest;
−You had a very very good idea, Mr Castle…− said Kate with a smirk.
Lost in that beautiful image, he returns out of his trance when her warmth is no longer surrounding him. Quick movements and a slender shape fast fading away and an almost soundless: −see you tomorrow, Castle.
Then, the click of a door being shut and his sadden sigh, hand travelling slowly across his face.
Again.
It happened again.
He doesn't want her to leave anymore.
She ran, and he was unable of stopping her. Thinking he had to be grateful of everything she was already giving to him.
It wasn't what he wanted, though.
But it was something more.
Something really quick. Hope you like it.
Anna.