Sparks of Gold
AN: Promotional pictures for season 6 released. Tux. Gold dress. That is all. (If you haven't seen the referenced image, visit my tumblr: nic6879 dot tumblr dot com)
(Extending both my love and my apologies to my lovely wife, to whom I've barely spoken for the last three hours in order to write this.)
NO spoilers for season 6 whatsoever, unless you consider the promotional pictures a spoiler.
"You ready for this?" Castle curves his hands around her shoulders, tugging her close for just a moment. His touch is tender but firm, the concern evident in his grip.
"Too late to back out now," she hums while she draws her palms up his chest, slowly lifts her eyes to his. Her engagement ring sparkles on her finger, contrasting starkly with the deep black of his tux, the fabric so smooth beneath her hands. He really looks delicious in that tux, broad shoulders and wide chest encased by the perfectly tailored material, looking strong and handsome and safe.
"Never too late for that." He's absolutely serious and she loves him even more for it, for his willingness to put her comfort first, even at his own book party.
"Thank you," she smiles at him, adjusting his bow tie until it sits straight. "But I want to do this. It's the perfect time and place."
They'd decided that they'd make their engagement public at the launch of 'Deadly Heat', and while she's nervous about the media exposure, she doesn't regret the decision one bit.
She wants the world to know.
Kate leans in, presses a lingering kiss to his lips. He holds her chin between his fingers, sliding his thumb across her bottom lip.
"You look... phenomenal." His eyes are dark as he looks her up and down, takes her in once more. It's not the first time he's told her tonight, seems stunned, speechless every time he looks at her and his reaction makes her heart flutter.
She's inordinately pleased about the gown she's found for this occasion, despite its heart-stopping price tag. Its shimmery gold fabric clings to her torso like a second skin, falling to the floor in long, sleek lines that caress her ankles with every move she makes. She takes a step away, turns around in a slow circle, just for him, enjoying the aroused spark in his eyes and the way he digs his teeth into his bottom lip. She feels flushed already, can't wait to get back home with him.
"Let's do this, Castle," she nods, at once decisive, enfolding her fingers with his. Her engagement ring digs into her skin, the now almost-familiar feeling giving her strength, an unexpected confidence.
He grins at her, with pride and that all-consuming love shining in his eyes as they open the door, and for the first time, she steps onto the red carpet with him, into the flashing storm of cameras and lights.
As his fiancée.
Kate sinks back against the cushy leather seat as the limo pulls away from the curb. The champagne buzzes in her blood and her arms feel limp, her mind pleasantly blank. Content, she rests her head on his shoulder and watches the city lights glide past the window, that carnival blur of New York City at night as the cushioned silence of the luxurious car enfolds them like a womb.
His hand settles on her thigh, brushing her dress against her skin. She can almost hear the rustle of the sparkling fabric as his fingers caress her knee. "That wasn't too bad, was it?"
All in all, it had turned out to be a pretty great night. She'd felt shy, initially, overwhelmed by the explosions of flashlights and barrage of questions that had rained on them the moment the assembled media had spotted the prominent sparkle of the ring on her finger.
Castle had tugged her against him, his arm slung protectively around her as he'd sailed through the media storm with practiced ease. He'd handed her a glass of champagne, never left her side all evening through introductions and small talk, full of flattery and sweet, awed words about her that left her blushing more than once. She is glad it's over, but she had enjoyed herself more than she'd expected. He made it easy. Fun. He makes a lot of things fun.
"Hm hmm...," she hums, an easy smile spreading over her face. "Wasn't the worst night I ever had." She sneaks a hand onto his leg, squeezing his muscles. "Would've been easier if you hadn't been teasing me all night long!"
Any chance he got, he'd been touching her, sneaking caresses when he thought nobody was looking, and sometimes in bold sight. His fingers dancing at her waist, playing along her spine, brushing the side of her breast, the fabric of her dress rasping against her skin, setting her aflame. The curl of his thumb across her hand and the stroke of his fingertips down her arm, soft, barely there touches until she was tingling from the top of her spine down to the bottom of her toes, the coil of desire unraveling within her, a heady, delicious sensation.
"I was teasing you?" He laughs, feigning to sound indignant but the growl of his voice gives him away. It's rough and aroused, making her insides flutter. "You were the one who couldn't keep her hands off me." His fingers climb up the inside of her leg, slow but insistent as her skirt is pushed up higher. "If I'd known how much the tux turns you on," he whispers in her ear, his voice raw, his breath hot against her skin. "I would've worn it for you a long time ago."
So she might have done a bit of touching herself, only too happy to possessively wrap her arm around his waist beneath the tux jacket, or curl her fingers into the short, soft hair at his nape; it was only fair. And yes she may admit that she'd felt proprietary, showing for all the blondes to see that she had caught the 'White Whale'.
He's hers now. As she is his.
The buzz of the alcohol mingles with the sparks zapping through her, her skin feverish as his fingers brush her inner thigh, and her heart leaps excitedly. She doesn't think, lets instinct take over as she turns around. The fabric of her skirt bunched between her fingers, she tugs it higher and straddles his lap in one fluid motion. His eyes darken when she settles down over him, his hands clasped around her waist, the tight grip of his fingers testament to the matching, delirious desire coursing through him.
The elastic material of her dress molds around them, shimmering in the dim lights inside the limousine as her knees bracket his hips. She presses her hands to his chest, feels the strong leap of his heartbeat beneath her palm as the diamonds of her ring shine against the black fabric of his tux.
"You can wear it for me any time," she murmurs, the roughness of her voice almost foreign to her.
He tugs her closer, eyes dark and raw with honesty. "I'd do anything for you," he growls and she feels him between her legs, strong and hard and ready. Waiting for her, needing her so much and her throat is clogged; she feels so many things, all at once, can't untangle the raw mix of emotions that sweep through her like a brushfire.
Her muscles flex of their own volition, her body flushed with slick, hot arousal. His breath hitches and his hands sweep up her sides, his thumbs brushing her nipples; fast, strong swipes that scrape her dress against her sensitive flesh. She whimpers as sensations arrow straight down her middle, arches in his grasp, rocking in his lap and then it's hard and fast, the evening's slow and teasing build-up erupting in a raging, consuming firestorm.
His mouth finds hers, swallowing her moan as his tongue strokes inside, deep and curling, demanding and giving both. She digs her fingers into his shoulders, barely able to hold on as he kisses her, devours her. She can practically taste the strength of his desire against her tongue, and it's like gasoline poured onto the fire, igniting her from the inside out. She gives back all that she has, lips and teeth and tongue, her knees clamped around his hips like a vice.
His fingers tease her breasts through the material that encases her like a second skin, swirl and tweak and brush, over and over, the rasp of the fabric heightening each sensation to her nipples and the pleasure is sharp, hits her deep, so deep. She feels raw and empty, almost crazed with yearning, so strong it's overwhelming. Her fingers glide down his chest, skim his abdomen until she finds his fly, slides down the zipper and quickly slips inside. He groans into her mouth, his hips jerking as she curls her hand around his length that strains against the boxer briefs and he feels so good; thick and hot.
The limousine hums through the nighttime traffic, the purr of the motor only a soft, smooth backdrop and she feels emboldened, powerful, slightly illicit. It only spirals her higher. She frees his length from his underwear, caresses him within the limited space between his pelvis and the apex of her thighs.
"Oh god, Kate," he moans against her lips, slides his hands underneath her dress and up her thighs, an urgent caress until his thumbs find her, giving hard pressure where she is swollen and wet.
"Now, now, now" she gasps, pleads, her hips seemingly out of her control as she undulates against his thighs. It's a fumble of fingers as they try to slip her panties out of the way, to come together within the tight confines of her dress but then he nudges her entrance and she lifts, slides down, welcomes him as he presses up into her, a practiced, smooth dance.
She wants to sob as he fills her, her body a tight coil wrapped around him, set to unravel at any moment. The blood roars in her ears, her throat clogged and then he thrusts up into her and she moans, a sound breaking free from deep within her. She moves, glides, circles, her hips following the siren call of her body, her movements fast, sloppier with every stroke as she keeps climbing, eyes clenched closed and arms wrapped tight around his shoulders, fingers gripped in his hair.
"Harder," she whimpers and he groans, his hands clamping tight around her thighs. Holding her, guiding her moves, urging her on and she can feel the thrum of his body beneath his tux, just underneath his skin, his muscles taut, held under rigid control. She sinks her forehead to his, clinging to every piece and part of him as he thrusts, thrusts, thrusts, at one with her body, smooth and knowing until her muscles contract, her body bowed and taut, held in breathless suspension for one long, agonizing moment.
And then she breaks, breaths choppy and vision white as she clenches and shudders around him, over and over, taking him with her through the unfurling, spinning spiral of sensation. His groans are loud in her ear as he unravels beneath her, around her, inside of her while she holds him close, slumped breathlessly against him.
It takes long moments until she feels like she can breathe again, until she can move her limbs, lift her head. She can feel his heart leaping against her palm that lies pressed to his chest, her ring sparkling with every lift of his ribcage.
"I love you." She whispers it in his ear, the soft confession belying the raging storm of passion that had just swept them away.
"I love you too." His fingers trip up her spine, then down again, and her eyes flutter closed. "And not just because you just had hot, illicit sex with me on the backseat of a limo."
She snorts, pinches his chest, and he curves his palm around her butt cheek, squeezes her through the fabric. "And just for the record, you can wear that gold dress anytime for me, too."
"Hmm..." Kate brushes her mouth to his neck, nips along the length of his jaw line until she can whisper in his ear. "If you're really lucky, next time it might be a gold bikini..."
FIN