They're slow padding towards the bedroom, Beckett patient over his labored walk and unstable gait. At first he rushes, forcing long strides to hurry along their pace, but she rests her hands on his chest to halt him in his path.
"Hey–look at me, I'm not going anywhere. Okay? I've got nowhere else to be." She leans in, the tip of her nose grazing over his cheek. Just here. Just with you.
His face is unchanged. His fervor...unhinged.
He swoops to hoist her up, simultaneous with a flash of lightning outside, the small of her back locked in his arms as they trudge forward. The maneuver startles but excites her as her legs instinctively wrap around him, a pleased sigh choking out her throat against a roll of thunder, abdomen shaking at the friction between their bodies.
"Four years, Kate," he says as he sets her onto the bed. "Not a second more."
She manages an airy laugh, his play on her words more teasing than mocking as he removes his shirt. She watches, her legs sliding past each other, terribly warm all the way to the reaches of her stomach where the longing for him to be with her continues to build.
Careful with his leg, he kneels down and spreads her thighs as she rests hands on both sides of his face. She guides him back to her lips, melting under the warmth of him, the welcome of his skin along hers. To breathe him in is sweet, a taste so familiar as though she's come home after being gone for so long.
Home. She's come home.
He takes his time, attentive to her as his mouth learns and studies her slopes and curves, delicate edges forgotten for at least a year. Lingering in some places, more than others, she teaches him through her...responses.
She's well past ready for him by the time his lips make it under her navel, he unbuttoning her pants in a swift twist as she unclasps her bra, all clothing then stripped to expose her from head to toe. Unashamed for any of it, reeling over the vulnerability of the moment with him, her breath still hitches at his focused eyes running all over her, a precursor of what he's about to do. Her body's a half-painted canvas with stains of his kisses, a thousand phantom lips resting over her, and his intent to finish the work burning bright in the deepest blue of both irises.
His first kiss with her core flows tenderly, but the longer he stays, the harder he works his strokes. He includes his fingers after a couple minutes lapse, eliciting deeper moans from her, congruent with his deeper glides. She can't help the rock of her hips, the eagerness to get as close as she can. Gripping his hair, her fingers curl tight around the locks, the fact that it's Castle pleasing her edging her on even more.
"Castle..." she breathes once. Every other utterance of his name goes inaudible, her peak growing dangerously near. Her legs dangle off the bed helplessly with one between the pinch of his forearm and bicep, and the other cast aside, twitching for lack of relief. Wrought in a torturous nirvana, she lifts her hips up higher, tirelessly twisting, heaving into him until the combined effort of his mouth and hands shove her off into climax, a bombardment of rippling waves of release. Back arching she vocalizes uneven breaths, quivering until the aftershocks stop, leaving the violent pulse of her blood to boom beneath the surface.
He lays himself on her to calm her body, reuniting with her neck, humming there until he returns to her lips. Oh, she needs him completely.
She's never needed anything more.
–
Already gorgeously flush, he knows he's got unfinished work. Adding a smudge here and there, he's so giving in attending to her.
But she's quick to return the favor.
Pushing him up, her hands press his chest to lie down and sprawl at the full length of the bed to support his leg. Removing his clothes, she's mindful of his wound, caring for it in every movement as she lifts the calf out of the pants and boxers. Sitting between his thighs, her fingers run over his bandages, slower than she'd done before. The sight of these areas of pain furrows her brows and flattens her lips, but it's motivation in the end it seems.
She presses her mouth to every hurt site, generous in her touch, in the caress of her breath. It soothes and builds him up, the pleasure stronger as he loses his mind over the idea that Beckett is kissing him like this.
Kate Beckett wants to please him.
He reaches for her, cupping her face as she lowers onto his torso, branding the signature of her tongue down...down...
Oh.
Shit.
She wastes no time, and he's already impressed, but her concentration to taste every part of him, whole, it's a fire he'll stroll through gladly.
All of him begs, restless under her control with every pump. The graze of her hair along his groin teases enough on its own, but in the company of her swallows and rubs, it's unbearable.
Unbearably perfect.
He has to force his lids to open, because he has to watch, wants to, but the pleasure insists to seal them shut, pushing his head backwards and putting strain over his neck. Her lips part in a wicked smile around him, and the motion nearly sets him off, but she pulls away before his body can give.
"Fuck–" he seethes between his teeth. He gropes for her to hold onto, onto anything so she can rein him back down to her, and when he opens his eyes, she does.
Because she's there. She's here, with him.
"God, I love you," he stresses through labored breath. Crawling up to his face, lying against his dampened chest, she slips her hand behind his head to support the back of his neck.
The part of her lips invites him, but the calm of her face is...daring.
"Prove it."
–
Considering how spent he had appeared, she couldn't have foreseen this. Really, to be honest.
But in the future, she'll know not to question.
Her taunt ignites some spark in him, flipping her right onto her back, taking the challenge head on. Grabbing the pillow, he pulls it underneath her neck to support her as he rocks, rolling over with a gravity she yearns for with every depart of his skin from hers.
Preoccupying her lips with his, he spreads himself over her, casting the bad leg to drape near the side of the bed. Her arms wrap around his shoulders, but they fall and slide along his bicep, weakening in their every movement together.
Forehead to forehead, she grinds herself upwards desperate to be with him, patient but eager for him to act already; these motions only make her sick, homesick for him.
Layers of sweat grow in volume, the only distance between them, if any, closer and closer with every advance. His skin shields her against the cool air of the loft, but the proximity exhausts her patience. They're not where they need to be. Not yet.
She aches for him terribly, she does. She's greedy.
She wants all of him, just him.
Just for herself.
Damn it. She can't take it. Her nails puncture his arms, piercing as her desire to swallow him whole takes over.
"I need you," she rasps into his gaping mouth.
–
He doesn't need another plea.
Finally, she takes him in.
For a second, there's cessation of breath.
From both.
Her hands previously resting on his neck slam into the bed, clutching the sheets in a blissful agony as he weighs further in. He fills her up, and empties again, a cycle so gorgeously frustrating, they no longer regard their curses shooting through the air.
The fit of them together in this way, he can't help but express his happiness, even in a struggling grin. She needs him, but he needs her more. He'll confess it. He'll write it for the world if he hasn't already.
He loves this woman. He loves her.
This is the love of his life, writhing beneath him.
So he's gonna fucking love her.
Managing to pry her hands from the sheets, he laces their fingers, kissing her bandaged palm before pinning their hands down. She's not gonna rely on the blanket for support.
He's gonna give it all to her.
Everything.
She offers herself completely, stripped in every meaning of the word as he takes her, this gift, one he can cherish for the rest of the night.
Longer, if he may.
–
His hands are so comforting. His embrace, love.
But it's the buck of his hips tearing her to shreds.
"Oh–fuck–Rick–" her voice shatters on his name. He's a wave washing over her, sweet tides of tension and release dragging out nonsensical moans and groans from her throat.
She's a flame, and he's the gasoline pouring on, stoking her to degrees she once believed impossible.
Yet here she is, burning away into oblivion, with the love of her life.
The man she loves.
The man she can love forever.
Her hands let go to grip his neck again, bringing him down to seal her mouth, even with just the air flowing out of him as they approach the end.
Her legs cling around him, every crevice linked up in a kiss to keep them close.
She starts to cave in, crumbling under him in stunning surrender.
She's safe. She's loved. She's home.
He brings her home.
–
United. In unison.
He's finally one with her.
So he refuses to let go.
Tipping over the peak, he musters some strength to say it again. Strained in a harsh, jagged whisper hovering her mouth.
I love you.
The power stuns them both, a sharp purchase for air an indication for their fall together, but he grips the top of the mattress in line with the headboard to lower himself and absorb the force of their convulsions, shielding her beneath.
They sing their psalms of pleasure over each other's lips, followed by pants in recovery from the strenuous dance, but neither move after facing the white light. His head sinks face first into the pillow, chin dug into her shoulder as they both lie spent. Her hands still fixed to his neck calm him, cradling him close while her fingers nestle in his hair. Oh, how wonderful.
How wonderful it is to love her.
Picking himself back up to see his masterpiece, he holds a gaze with her and smiles stupidly catching it, but it doesn't matter. They're together. They're home.
"Always," she mouths, leaving another kiss to taste.
He nods, cradling her head as he rests his forehead on hers. "Always."
And the promise lives on their breath, soldering both hearts; their unified souls a sun, untouchable, even by the darkest matter.