Crazy For You
AN: Episode tag-on for 5x12, 'Death Gone Crazy.'
She relaxes against the doorjamb, her mouth pursed in amusement as she watches him.
Wearing nothing but boxers, he's flexing his biceps, sucking in his stomach, turning from right to left in front of the bathroom mirror, his eyebrows knitted critically.
Is he… posing?
She bites her lip, slowly lets her eyes drift down over the taut curve of his butt cheeks, down his long legs, the thighs and calves thick with muscles, then back up, past the bulge under the blue and purple striped silk fabric. Her skin flushes, the heated rush of sensation familiar, never far when he's close, all naked skin and musky scent.
He faces the mirror, lets out a deep breath that sounds suspiciously like a sigh as he relaxes his stomach muscles, his posture loosening, and then he presses his hands over his midsection, pinching the skin with his fingertips.
"What are you doing?"
He whirls around and his eyes widen comically at the sight of her, as if he didn't know she had come home with him a couple of hours ago. "Uhm… nothing. I…" His cheeks rosy as he blushes - actually blushes at getting caught by her. He fumbles a hand over the counter, grabs a hairbrush without looking. "Brushing my teeth."
She laughs, steps into the room while he drops the hairbrush back on the countertop, exhaling in defeat as he faces the mirror once more. Kate wraps her arms around his torso, her hands a light contrast to his darker skin as they rest over his stomach.
"What's going on, hmm?" She asks quietly, letting her lips hum against his spine. Their eyes meet in the mirror, the moment extending into the silence of the room as he watches her, the blue of his eyes clouded with something that looks too much like concern and her heart thuds almost painfully against her ribs. But then he laces his fingers through hers, lifts her right hand to his lips to press a tender, lingering kiss to the inside of her wrist.
"It's nothing." He drops his eyes, turning around within the embrace of her arms but she didn't miss the swing of his gaze down to his stomach, the disappointed flicker in his eyes.
She narrows her eyes. "Is this because you caught me looking at that guy?"
"No?"
"Castle," she sighs, tilting her head to look at him. "I see guys like that all the time at the precinct gym."
"Guys like that?"
"What's the problem, you look at other women's chests."
"Not since I get to look at your chest," he claims, glancing down her shirt for a long second. She bites at the grin that tries to steal over her lips, incredulously raises her eyebrows as she stares him down.
"Okay fine, sometimes I look," he admits, "but only at the dressed ones."
"It's not my fault that not all chests are treated equally with regards to their required state of cover-up."
"Unfair double standard," he pouts, his bottom lip sticking out adorably and she rises to her toes, nips at his lip, soothing it with her tongue. The breath hitches in his chest and she slides a palm around his waist, up to his sternum, her fingers teasing circles around his nipple.
She kisses him again, his lips soft and warm beneath hers before she pulls away. "So what's really the issue?"
"I don't look like that," he blurts, running a hand over the slight curve of his stomach. "I'm not built like the type of guy you like."
"The type of guy I like?" She questions.
"Yeah, you know… washboard stomach, square jawed…" He trails off, his eyelids dropping and her insides clench with the dejected look painted on his face. She knows he is meticulous about his appearance, quite vain about his looks sometimes but she'd never once thought that he'd be as worried about her having an issue with his looks. In fact, she's pretty sure that she's been showing him quite vividly how much and in how many ways she truly appreciates his body.
"How shallow do you think I am?" She challenges, knowing that's not what he thinks, that he'd never believe her to be this superficial but it seems the most point-blank way to show him how ludicrous this sounds.
His mouth drops open in denial, scrambling for an explanation but she stops him with the rush of her words.
"My type is a guy who knows me, who knows all my issues and fears and walls but who wants me anyway. Who is interested in what I say, fascinated in everything I share. Who brightens my days when all I can see is the dreary and the sad, someone who brings me joy."
The smile on his lips is tender, almost overwhelmed at her words and she trails her fingertips up the length of his arms, digging into his biceps. "Of course it doesn't hurt that his strong arms make me feel safe…" She lets her fingers continue their journey, traveling leisurely over his shoulders and down to his pecs where she lets her palms rest. "…And that I've never felt more at home than when I'm lying on his broad chest."
His heart hammers underneath her palms and he lets his forehead kiss hers on a relieved sigh.
She wraps her arms around his neck, pulls herself tighter against him, wedging her legs between his thighs. "I like you, Castle," she emphasizes, running soothing circles over the back of his neck. "You."
He kisses her then, his lips scorching as they slant over hers, his tongue teasing along the seam of her mouth and she opens for him, at once needy, almost desperate for his touch. She arches into him, her spine curved around the strong hold of his palm over her back, hears herself whimper with the rush of his tongue around hers, hot and deep and her insides unfurl with desire. Her fingers are gripped in his hair and she guides his head, fitting him to her lips and then she's whirled around, his fingers digging into the back of her knees as she's lifted on to the counter. The marble is cold against her naked thighs, the clatter loud as the bottles and cosmetics topple and fall off.
She wasn't wearing much to begin with but it flies off quickly, the oversized sleep shirt flung behind him while she trails her fingers down his stomach, over the growing bulge barely hidden beneath his boxers.
"And this." She boldly palms him through the fabric, her grip sliding the silk along his tender skin, her thumb playing over his tip with a teasing grin. "I like this, too."
She's flushed, her body yearning for his touch and he groans frantically, stilling her eager hand on him. He pushes her backwards; her torso leaned back against the mirror as he presses her hands onto the counter, his eyes darkened, burning with passion and wicked challenge.
He slides his index finger over her bottom lip; she tries to chase it with her mouth but he eludes her, trailing down her chin instead, journeying along her neck and sternum. She follows his trail with her eyes, watches as he travels down the long line of her abdomen, rimming her navel before he dances lower, lower.
The thin fabric of her panties provide hardly any barrier when he pushes the pad of his finger over her clit and she gasps, her voice roughened with the concentrated pressure that shoots into her core, flushing her with wet, aching need.
"So, tell me." He circles his finger around her bundle of nerves and she can barely follow his train of thought, her mind foggy with the swirl of radiating sensations. "Have you ever had dirty bathroom sex, Detective Beckett?"
She runs a foot up the side of his leg, teasing his skin with the scratch of her toenails. "Mmm… I might've had my fair share of experiences…"
"You're so hot," he practically growls, crowding over her, his mouth hot and wet over hers as he drives her wild with the clever swirl and tease of his tongue. Her insides clench in anticipation, the hot fire roaring in her core, consuming her from the inside out. She wedges a hand between their bodies, gripping the waistband of her underwear, desperately pushes them down her legs.
"Let's just say that these days…" She nips his lips, plays her fingers around his navel in teasing swirls, her intent unmistakable. "I prefer my dirty bathroom sex on clean surfaces."
He growls in abandon, his voice so loud that it seems to echo off the tiles of the bathroom walls and then he drops to his knees in front of her, gripping his fingers around her ankles as he lifts her legs, places her feet on the counter. Her skin flushes, the coil of desire almost harsh as it consumes her insides, a delirious haze at the vision of him down on his knees before her, his head between her thighs. And then his mouth is on her and she stops thinking altogether.
Her head falls back on a rough groan, her eyes, her fingers, her thighs clenched at the flares of sensation that spread through her limbs, her blood rushing through her veins, roaring in her ears as he suckles, swirls his tongue, teases with his teeth, hums over the bundle of nerves and the vibrations shimmy a tight pattern into her nerve endings. His fingers dig into her thighs as he pleasures her with practiced skill, knowing just what she needs, coaxing her higher, closer, teasing her off the brink before he brings her closer once more and she whimpers with need, her hips twitching restlessly under his persistent ministrations.
He takes his time; she knows he's enjoying her and the bliss he can give her and she mewls, pushes herself into his mouth, her hips undulating, desperate for the pressure, the sweet sweet relief but he doesn't let up, whirls his tongue faster, more, bringing her higher still. Her body feels borderless, weightless, eternal, and then he slicks over her once more, hard relentless pressure and she breaks apart, contracting from the inside out, bursts of brightness and light as her limbs jerk, her body shattering endlessly.
Her legs slip off the counter and he brackets her waist with his palms, rests his head on her stomach. She's still gasping for breath, her heart rate slow to calm down, her body draped boneless and heavy on the counter.
"You like this too?" He mumbles into her skin and she giggles, still high from the rush of sensation. He kisses around her navel, his lips a tender, comforting brush along her skin.
"Yeah. I like this too." She curls her fingertips through his hair, untangling the unruly strands. "Definitely the dirtiest clean bathroom sex I've ever had."
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