For TMC, my loves. Because you demanded, and I caved.

I love writing smut but at the same time it is quite possibly some of the most awkward thing to ever write. But whatever. Enjoy. A slightly different version of Always.

The title is Welsh for "I just want you", mainly because I love Welsh as a language and also because I was stuck for ideas on what to call this.

You are the most remarkable maddening, challenging, frustrating person I have ever met. And I love you Kate, and if that means anything to you, if you care about me at all, please don't do this.

She hadn't realised just how much it had weighed him down. How much keeping it all bottled up had cost him. The weight gain, the bags under his eyes. He was tired, and it showed. Tired of trying to contain his feelings, to give her the time and the space to get through everything. How much had she cost him? What had he sacrificed?

"Castle…"

He's already shaking his head, his eyes full of regret and sorrow and sadness, taking a step away from her and towards the door. It's all becoming clear now. The distance, the enigmatic comments, Jacinda the air hostess. He knew. He knew that she knew, and he thinks she doesn't feel anything at all similar to the way he feels about her. He twists his body around, his mind set on a quick and hasty exit, and she knows if he steps through it then it's over. They are over.

"Castle, don't-"

"Don't what, Kate?" he interrupts, though he doesn't even sound angry any more. He just sounds resigned to his fate.

"Don't… go. Please."

"Please? Why shouldn't I? I have tried everything, Kate. I have been by your side, day after day, giving you all the space and the time that you need. I have watched you with Will, and with Demming and with Josh, people who you pretended made you happy, and I have stayed quiet. But I can't do that anymore. I can't stay and convince myself that one day you're going to feel the same."

He moves swiftly, quicker than she imagines, and she has to push past him, using her agility to beat him to the door, slamming the bolt across and using herself as a barricade between him and the door.

"Kate, let me out."

"No."

"Kate-"

"No. If you think – if you believe that I don't…"

"Don't what?"

"You think I lied to you because I don't love you. You think I lied to you just to make you feel better about admitting it. You're wrong, Castle. You're so wrong-"

He's on her before she even as a chance to breathe again, his body, so much larger than her own, dwarfs her as he crowds her against the door. His mouth is on hers, hot and fierce and dangerous, stealing her breath and taking it for his own.

"You said you loved me." His voice is gravelly, and he stops in his plunder of her mouth, to talk, though he doesn't move far away, his lips scraping against hers as he murmurs.

"No, no, I definitely didn't-"

His hands worm their way under her shirt, seeking the warmth of her stomach. His whole palm spans her abdomen, making her arch up into him with a heated gasp, her mouth fusing to his again. It's completely unintentional, she didn't mean to – but it seems once they'd started it's damn near impossible to stop. The hand that isn't stroking over her stomach is in her hair, tugging - pulling at her hair so he can direct her head where she wants it. She lets him. Lets him take whatever he wants from her.

"Kate-"

"Bedroom. Not doing this against a door."

"Not this time." He growls, and oh god this is a thing that they're doing and she sucks in a harsh breath. Castle stills, his hand leaving her hair to skim at her jaw bone, careful and soothing. "Kate, you okay?"

"Yeah – yeah, I'm good."

He slides his hand out from under her shirt, and Kate bites back a whimper at the loss of him, but he's taking her hand and pulling her away from the door. She doesn't know how and when he found out where her bedroom was but he leads her there without a wrong move. She stops Castle at the door though, tugs at the lapels of his jacket until it lands on the floor in a black puddle. He guides her over to the edge of the bed, pulls her into the cove of his legs, hands sliding up her back to pull her closer. But Kate's had enough of playing passive, of letting him lead, and she pushes hard on his shoulders, making him fall back. Her mattress has always been surprisingly bouncy, and it takes Castle by surprise. She climbs up after him, hands skimming up his thighs, missing anywhere of any vital importance, much to Castle's chagrin. The moment she reaches his waistband, she starts to work on his shirt, taking each button one at a time, slow and methodical, letting her nails scrape across his abdomen each time. He lets her work, watching her with hooded eyes.

"Are you gonna let me return the favour?" he asks breathlessly, as Kate pulls the two sides apart with slightly more vigour than necessary.

He doesn't let her answer he decides suddenly, sitting up so quickly that it knocks Kate off balance and he wraps an arm around her waist to keep her against him. His mouth lands against her collarbone, hot and wet, his breath sending goose bumps up and over her shoulders and upper back. Somehow he manages to get his spare hand in between them, and expertly pry the buttons of her shirt apart until it hangs loose about her rib cage. He's momentarily distracted by the circle of tissue in the valley of her breasts, his breath caught in his throat. Kate cradles his head in her hands, tilts it up so she can lower her mouth onto his. It seems to be the catalyst for him, and even while he works her mouth he's tugging at her shirt, trying to get it off of her shoulders. It doesn't take long for her to reciprocate and it's five seconds later that they're skin to skin. But it's not enough, never enough and Castle soon has her bra sliding down arms and joining the pile of discarded clothes.

He wastes no time in covering her breasts with his hands, his palms surprisingly rough on her skin, already testing her already hard nipples until she whines against his mouth.

"Too many clothes." She gasps, hands gripping his hair as she grinds her hips into his. "Too many clothes."

Castle, in a form of gymnastics she never believed him capable, twists them around so Kate's lying on the bed, chest heaving, with Castle kneeling between her legs. He runs one finger between the material of her trousers and her hips, making Kate's back arch up from the bed with a growl.

"Too many clothes?"

"Castle."

"Yes, Kate?"

"No teasing. Please –"

It takes him a second to pull down the zipper, flick the button open, and two seconds later he's sliding her trousers down her long, long legs, leaving her in nothing but a scrap of lace. He's breathless as he runs his hand up her leg. Kate shivers when he reaches her panties, whines when he slips his fingers underneath the lace. He's so close to where she wants him, so close to where he needs to be, but it seems Castle is in no hurry.

"I always wondered what you wore under there." He muses, flicking his tongue out to flick at the rough material at her hip. "Is it always lace?"

"Why don't you look through my underwear drawer and find out?"

"Just so you're aware, I'm going to make you say that again and record it so I have actual proof."

"I don't care if you look through my fucking sock drawer just do something."

He grins, and he knows she wants to hit him right now. But he likes that. In the precinct, out on the streets, she has the power and they both know it. But while he's sure Kate is not exactly bad in the bedroom department, he's well aware of his own prowess. It seems Kate is perfectly happy to let him take the lead, and he bites at the elastic and pulls the lace down with his teeth, letting it snap back against her hip. She swears, bites down on her lip so hard that he has to take said lip between his own teeth and tug on it, making her gasp and release it.

"You always this impatient when you're horny?"

"Yes." She hisses, wriggling her body down the bed until she connects with Castle's thigh. It's not the pressure she wants, but it's something more than what he's currently willing to give her. Her hips move in jerky circles, and she moans, her head hitting the mattress, and her neck arches in a beautiful curve. He lets her gyrate against him for a couple of seconds, lets her siphon off some of the arousal that's coursing through her veins. But he's not going to let her get off that easy, and he pins her to the bed with one arm, and moves his thigh away.

She growls, pushes against his arm, but he's strong and it's a futile attempt. But then he thinks it's time he at least takes pity on her and runs one finger down the front of her panties. The sound that comes out of her mouth makes him almost lose it there and then. If he wants to dedicate his life to anything, he's decided to dedicated it to make Kate Beckett produce that noise for every single time he gets to do this with her.

He pulls the lace down her legs and she kicks them away, no longer cared about as her legs fall apart, completely open to him, completely trusting. He kisses her hip, makes a line down past the crease where thigh meets abdomen. Her muscles are quivering, tense with anticipation, waiting for him to make the first move.

He latches onto her without warning, his lips tight around her clit, giving it the occasional scrape with his teeth. Kate whimpers, tugs at his hair with one hand, the other squeezing and massaging her own breast, pulling and pinching at her nipple. It doesn't take long at all after that, especially when Castle takes one finger, long and thick, slides it through her arousal, and pushes it deep into her, eliciting a breathy gasp from Kate. She doesn't know how, she doesn't know why, but he seems to know her so intimately already, it takes one clever press of his finger and she's arching up off the bed, her hips jerking in unbridled pleasure. He draws it out, every time she thinks she's coming down he has her soaring her again, until she can't breathe and he carefully works her down until she's a breathless, and sweaty heap of liquid bones and jellied muscles.

He towers up over her, doesn't overwhelm her with kisses until she gets her breath back, just presses his lips against the corner of her mouth, her cheek, the birthmark on her cheek. He's distracted by the pulse point at her neck, and she takes advantage of it, wraps her legs around his waist (and gives her hips a quick circle on the front of his trousers, causing Castle to swear into her neck) and flips them easily.

She makes quick work of his trousers, works them, and his boxers, down his legs and throws them, with relish, behind her where they clatter against the wardrobe door. She scrapes her nails up the inside of his thighs, the hair rough against her palms. She could easily put them both out of their misery, sink down on him and work him until she can't walk in the morning, or she could draw out his pleasure, moves her body away from contact with his, kneels beside him, and slowly, without touching him with her hands, takes the tip of his length, then more and more of his hot, hard length into her mouth, rhythmically working it further and further, teasingly, inch-by-inch down her throat. She withdraws far then, and his hands reach for her cheeks and chin and lips, urging her to take him back deeper into her mouth. She does, bit by bit, wrapping her tongue around him from one side, then the other, and Kate gives him something else then, touches him with her hands, too, one cupping and rolling his balls the other sweeping over his belly and chest, tweaking a nipple and swiftly moving on flat-palmed, inserting a finger, then two, then three into his mouth. He flicks at the pads of her fingertips with his tongue, moans around them when she sucks one of his balls into her mouth.

As more part parts of her body became engaged with his Kate would feels herself swelling and moistening again, no matter how completely she thought she had already come. Kate could hear Castle's breath coming faster, and drunk with the craving to have him, to feel him in her, with one strong, last, base-to-tip-long suck, she would release his penis and swing herself over and down onto him. He slid firmly, solidly, completely into her, and, as their arms gathered their bodies into one another Castle – crying out in half-groans, half-grunts – would come, followed swiftly by Kate, who's squeezing and clenching muscles milk him for everything he has.

Kate lets her edges get a little rougher when she's asleep. She sags out on the bed, mouth slightly open where she's pressed against the pillow. He's only been awake himself for a few minutes, woke up slightly disorientated at the fact he's not in his room, but realisation soon hit him when he looks to his left and sees Kate flat out next to him. It's nearing eight pm now, and his stomach is gurgling in knowledge. He reaches out to push a flyaway tendril of hair out of Kate's eyes, but when he pushes it behind her ear she jerks back away from him, eyes slamming open in surprise.

"Sorry – I didn't – mean to surprise you."

"No – no, I'm just … not used to someone else sharing my bed."

"Oh…"

Kate struggles up into a sitting position, pushes her bed hair back from her face. "What time s'it?"

"Eight, I think."

"Are… you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm … great."

"You sure? You look kinda freaked out."

"I-"

"You think I regret it?"

"I don't… know."

"I'm not running away from this, Castle. Whatever this is, where ever it takes us, I'm in this with both feet."

He rolls over immediately, one hand curling at her ear, thumb stroking at the prominence of her cheekbone, presses his mouth to hers with fervour. He's not sure where it would have gone, but his stomach complains again, loudly, and Kate pulls away from him with a delighted laugh and a sparkle in his eyes. "Hungry?"

"I think we worked up an appetite. I can cook something-"

"Eurgh, no. I'm gonna order out." She stretches backwards, her back arching in such a delicious curve that he doesn't care if he goes hungry for days if he just gets to see it, touch it and taste it, every minute of every day. But Kate's already slipping into his shirt, easy as anything, like she's been doing it for months, and going on a hunt for some form of telephonic device that she can use. He's well aware of the fact that she's not wearing anything resembling underwear, and when she bends over to rummage through his jeans he gets an unsolicited view of pretty much everything, and can't help the guttural groan that rumbles through his chest.

"Food first, big man." Kate replies with a laugh, thumbing through the passcode on his phone (when had she worked that out?) and finding the number of their favourite Chinese. "You can eat me later."

Tumblr: knotbecks

Twitter: ktkatics.