Disclaimer:Castle belongs to a genius greater than mine. No profit is being made from this and no copyright infringement is intended.

For PenguinOfTroy. Debt paid in full.

Peppermint And Cherries

Kate turns him around, uses his bulk as a shield against the spray. She presses her body close to his and the air is thick and warm with steam. Peppermint and cherries. The splash of water echoes, drowns out the noise of the rest of the apartment, of the city beyond and yeah, he could almost believe they were the only two people in the world.

No conspiracy. No assassins. Just the two of them. Just the moment they're in.

And he likes that.

He really, really likes that.

The stream pricks at his shoulders, at his neck. It's hot against the back of his head as he dips, as he leans forward to map the column of her throat with his lips. He follows the slick of the water, chases the beaded path with his tongue down, down between the valley of her breasts.

Her hands slide into his hair, fingers massaging his scalp, hypnotic and alluring. Enticing. As if he needs any. As if she isn't enough to keep him there. As if there is anything that can tear him away from the warm, slippery planes of her and the way she's moulded against him.

Kate moans when his teeth catch against the swell of her breast and he grins. Lets her feel it against her skin.

Rick's palms glide along her sides, slip around to her back, a trail of liquid heat rippling against her skin and she leans into his hands, arches against his mouth, hisses a commanding, "Don't stop."

And he can't.

He won't.

Doesn't want to.

He nuzzles the underside of her breast, feels her muscles tense as he feathers a path of kisses downwards. He's forced to close his eyes as the warm water cascades down her body, slicking over the top of his head as he skirts his lips around her belly button. Sightless, breathless, the taste of her stains his lips. His senses fill with her. Everything else is washed away, lost somewhere in the beyond, trapped on the other side of the small world they've created.

Everything else ceases to matter.

All that matters is the two of them. Just the two of them. Just this moment.

His lips against the curve of her hip, he asks her, "Tell me what you want."

"I want you," she says, whispered like it's a secret, and her words nearly lost to the sound of his shower, the sound of their mingled breath, but he hears her. Knows her. Knows it's true and he flicks his tongue out to meet her skin, smiles unashamed into the top of her thigh.

Kate pulls him up to meet her. "Just you," she confides, a smile twisting her lips before she's kissing him, soft and sweet at first and then demanding. Hot. Branding him with teeth and tongue.

Her leg slides along the outside of his calf, hooks around his thigh, but Rick shakes his head, stills her body with the heat of his palm.

"Turn around," he growls and there's fire smouldering in her gaze. Heat and want and a desperate kind of need, it's all there when their eyes lock.

Lip between her teeth, she does and then she's pressing back against him as he steps into her warmth.

Rick braces a palm against the cold tile of the shower and revels in the way the water makes their bodies slick together. She lifts her leg, opening herself to him, and he uses his free hand to support her, to hold her there, ready.

Kate's head rolls back onto his shoulder, baring the line of her neck to his lips and she groans his name as he presses into her, buries himself on her stuttering inhale.

He holds himself still inside her for a moment, fighting the urge to move, waiting for her to adjust, waiting for her crave the delicious friction, letting her ache for it. And then she's rocking back against him, desperate and hot and demanding. "Fuck me, Castle," she pleads.

His hips buck reflexively, pressing his length deeper, and she moans into the space below his jaw.

Rick's hand squeezes her thigh as he withdraws – pauses – and then thrusts back into her with a twist of his hips. She pushes back against him and they find their rhythm somewhere in the middle, somewhere between fast and hard and loving and desperate and it's not long before she's close, not long until he can tell from the squeeze of her around him, from the quiver in her thigh.

"Touch yourself," he demands when her head lolls forward, her chin finding her chest.

And she does.

He watches over her shoulder as one hand slips down the front of her body to disappear between her legs, the other coming up to squeeze and knead her breast, her slim fingers twisting at her nipple.

"God," she breathes. Moans. And then, "Rick,"as his hips speed up, the sight of her driving him wild, driving him closer.

Rick's lips find her skin, his teeth biting over her pulse, against the place where her shoulder joins her neck. He laves his tongue against her, wraps his lips around and sucks as she moans, as she fumbles in her rhythm. He marks her as she screams, bucks back against him, slick and grinding and so. damn. good.

She comes undone around him, quivering and wanting and shaking in his arms, and then he's falling with her, tumbling over the edge behind her and, for just a moment, it's just the two of them, just the way they're swept away in each others arms.

And he likes that.

He really, really likes that.