A/N: This story was written a few months ago, mid-season 5, with a different project in mind. But since it almost dovetails with the pregnancy trilogy that popped up out of no where recently, here it is...
WARNING: This fic is M rated for language and sexual content, and it won't appeal to everyone.
"How do I know when I've found my one and only and these days of searching are through?
How do I know when you love me as much as I love you?
How do you know when your life, your life is complete?
When the butterflies in your stomach sweep you of your feet."
"Cause the stars in my eyes, well they twinkle when I see your face.
And the butterflies keep flying, flying all over the place.
And the dark and grey, well it fits with the black and white.
And all I see is life, life in a beautiful light."
- Amy MacDonald, 'Life In A Beautiful Light'
Brighter Than Everything That Came Before
She's standing by the window when he walks into the loft, sunlight gilding her body. The loose, white, summer dress falls in soft waves around her knees, her arms are crossed, a steaming cup of something hot in one hand, her wedding band gleaming; bright, brand new and hopeful.
Brighter than everything that came before.
It's been eighteen months since they started dating, six since Gates finally owned up to knowing about them almost from the start, almost five since she agreed to move in with him, and four before 'b-day', as he's named it.
She took the news hard at first, in denial for a couple of weeks after she stood in her bathroom alone watching the little line turn blue, wracked with confusion and doubt. But her caffeine nausea nearly gave her away, her breasts got bigger almost overnight - Castle couldn't stop staring or touching - and when she threw up at a crime scene…well, she simply had to come clean.
He looked grave and shocked at first, and she of course took that for horror at this unplanned surprise she was forcing on both of them. But his apparent reluctance was all directed at her, at how she felt about this development as usual, and after tears and a shouting match that ended the way most of theirs did, with 'I love you' and 'I want this too' and 'why didn't you tell me sooner', they both owned up to being scared as hell, but delighted and excited all the same.
So, she moved in, and his side of closet halved in size, while her body seemed to change more with every passing day.
In the beginning, she was horrified by the lack of control; all the tiny and big ways in which their baby was making space for itself within her body. She worried that Castle would find her unattractive, less of a sexual being, look at her as merely something maternal. But as with a lot of things Castle-related, she couldn't have been more wrong. He loved that her body was changing to accommodate this life growing inside of her - a living embodiment of their love for one another; their future – and in addition to that, he couldn't keep his hands off her.
And maybe it didn't hurt that, as a slightly older dad, he liked what her pregnancy said about his virility. Yeah, she killed that one dead pretty quickly; knocked the swagger right out of his stride the day he brought that up at the precinct.
Tucked in amongst the crazy stack of pregnancy books Castle had ordered online, was one little gem containing expert advice on how to enhance your love life month-by-month. They skipped this position first time around as they worked their way through the erotic little manual. Castle somehow managed to stick the pages of the book together (with what she doesn't even want to imagine) and it took her an age today, working slowly over the flow of steam from the boiling kettle with a Q-tip, to prize them apart without tearing it.
"Hey. How was your meeting?" she asks, turning to smile at him as he walks towards her, his lips parted in greeting, briefcase dumped unceremoniously by the front door.
"Dull. Torturous. How's my baby mama?" he asks, grinning at her because he knows how much she hates that term, but he just can't help it. She's an easy target these days and so is he – like putty in her hands.
"Ignoring your last remark. But glad to see you, daddy. Long day?" she asks, as he takes the warm mug out of her hand and sips from it.
"Mmm, peppermint," he hums, kissing her neck, letting his hand stroke gently over the firm curve of her belly, dislodging one of the thin straps of her dress so that it coasts down her arm.
The dress is almost transparent with the light shining behind her, and he can see the outline of her curvaceous form framed perfectly against the window, and it stirs a deep need in him on sight.
"Mmm, indeed," she hums in reply, turning into his body, skin lighting on fire at his touch.
Kate's sexual appetite has been insatiable since she entered her second trimester; hence her efforts on the book today to unlock a new pregnancy-suitable position for them to try.
"Bath?" he asks, his lips working slowly over her bare shoulder, teasing her flesh, fingertips trailing the other strap down her arm, spreading goosebumps over her skin and awakening the low hum of desire that's been building steadily inside of her all day at the thought of him coming home.
"No," she sighs, sliding her fingers through his hair and stretching up to kiss his soft mouth. "Take me straight to bed, Castle."
He walks her ahead of him, his hands on her still slim hips, looking for all the world from behind as if she weren't pregnant at all, baby carried completely in front of her at this point.
"I unstuck those pages," she tells him, picking up the book from the nightstand. "Index says this position is particularly empowering for pregnant women."
"Oh, well, if the index says," teases Castle, loving how eager she still is to do this: to work so hard on their sex life even when she's five months pregnant. How the heck did he ever get this lucky? "Better do as the index tells us," he adds, kissing her neck, as she leans back against him, her head dropping to rest against his shoulder, her bump rising up in front of her; high, proud and calling to him.
He smooths his hands down over the solid mound of her stomach; so feminine, so ripe. Words pop into his head these days when he watches her sleeping naked beside him, in the shower, soaking in the tub, her hair fanned out around her like a halo. Fecund was one. He looked it up. It means fruitful, capable of producing an abundance of offspring. He'd never thought of it before, never used it, but likes the way it sounds on his tongue; likes the way she feels on his tongue when he whispers these words as he loves her.
"I like this dress," he murmurs, watching over her shoulder when her eyes flutter open.
"What?" she asks, slightly confused, her mind already adrift to sensation alone as she relaxes against his body and melts under his touch.
"This dress. I said I like it. But it's still coming off," he warns, pulling gently on the elasticated top half so that it slips easily over her bare breasts, and then he shimmies the whole thing over the rest of her body until it pools in a frothy white puddle at her feet, bright like spilt milk, leaving her in just her white underwear. "Easy access," he whispers, and she smiles, his quiet words sending a shiver down her spine.
Her breasts look amazing. They're full and heavy, so sensitive to the touch. Her nipples having darkened and enlarged already, like chocolate drops. And she loves having him touch them, suck on them until she begs him to stop, shuddering against the wet heat of his mouth and the cool air outside, her nails clawing at his back.
"Tell me what to do," she asks him, indicating the book, before bowing her head over her chest, looking down at her own body while she sweeps her fingertips lightly over her belly, stopping suddenly, as if listening for a second to some inner conversation.
"Baby moving?" asks Castle, even more attuned to her than usual throughout the whole of her pregnancy so far; anticipating her needs with frightening accuracy, her desires with the love and care only he can understand and provide for her.
"Mmm," she smiles warmly, taking his hand and laying it over the spot on her belly where the fluttering is emanating from. "Feel?" she asks, raising her eyes to find his, both of them filled with wonder.
He grins back at her, his eyes lighting up when he feels the pulse of his child's movement under his fingertips, imagines their son or daughter reaching out to touch them; so eager to meet them already.
She drops his hand, reaching behind her to cup the back of his neck, turning, her mouth on his so needful and urgent, demanding his attention and stirring him to action with her fervent desire for him.
"You okay to do this?" he asks, always careful to give her space, rest, a break if she wants it, though since her morning sickness stopped, he can't recall a time she didn't want him as much as he wants her.
"You backing out, old man?" she teases, turning fully to face him.
"No way," he tells her, kissing her deeply. "Let's take these off," he says, running his thumbs around the back of her underwear, dipping them deeper when he reaches her hips and lowering them down over her thighs until she can step out of them herself, one hand braced on his shoulder for balance.
He cups her immediately between her legs, watching her face and chest flush with pleasure when he slides one thick finger between her folds, finding her slick, aroused, and ready as ever.
"That's my girl," he purrs, sliding his finger in and out, not entering her yet, just working her up a little; watching her eyes close, hands gripping his biceps as she lets herself go with the sensation, a delicious warmth spreading throughout her body as she coasts her hips back and forth over his skillful, outstretched fingers, the graceful arc of her belly meeting the inner curve of his arm over and over.
"Too many clothes," she eventually manages to mumble, plucking at the sleeve of his dress shirt with a shaky hand, tugging on his belt, needing to feel the naked warmth of his skin against hers, to forget the day and just 'be' together.
"Let's get you lying down," he suggests, helping her back onto the bed. "Lie on your side, Kate," he tells her, glancing at the book for guidance. "Be right with you."
Once he sheds his clothes to the chair in the corner, he climbs onto the bed to lie beside her.
This particular position calls for him to spoon her from behind, and so he settles her down on the comforter, a pillow tucked under her bump for support, and then he crawls in behind her.
"Draw your knees up a little," he instructs, waiting patiently until she curls her body in around her swollen belly, and then he drifts his fingers down her arm from shoulder to elbow, delighting in the tremor of desire that ripples through her.
He rocks his hips against her rear, feeling his arousal grow strong with the cut-glass reality of his masculine body wrapped around her soft, feminine one. His cock gets hard, stretching down between the cleft of Kate's buttocks since they are so closely pressed together that there is no where else for it to go. He strokes soothing circles on her belly while Kate flexes her hips back against him, moaning when she feels his erection moving against the cheeks of her ass, teasing her.
"It's time," she whispers, breaking the cocooning silence of their bedroom, need fizzing through her veins like sherbet, sparking brightly behind her eyelids.
"Remember to stop me the second…"
"Castle," she warns, his name a needy whine on her lips, "I want you inside me. Now," she urges again, reaching behind her to capture him in her hand and run her thumb over the soft, glistening swell of his damp, sensitive tip.
Castle lets out a long, controlled breath through his nose, her touch an exquisite torture, and then he trails his fingers lightly down her belly to the crease between her hip and thigh, before sending his hand lower to stroke through the slick folds of her sex.
"You are ready," he agrees, removing his hand and then lifting her uppermost thigh slightly to open her up for him. She arches her back further, exposing all of her, and he takes his cock in hand and slowly pushes past her entrance.
It take a couple of tries at this angle, and they work together to perfect things, but then his erection slips past the protection of her pelvic bones and he's in, sliding all the way home, as she sheaths him with her ever-fascinating, mesmerizing, extraordinary body, letting out a long, shuddering sigh.
"Okay?" he checks, kissing her neck and shoulder, lavishing his love on her pale, tender skin, curling around her frame as they begin to move slowly together.
"Mmm. Heaven," Kate murmurs, with a low, purring sound of approval. "Need more."
As Castle rocks his hips upwards into her, Kate pushes back against him, driving him deeper. He lifts his hand up to stroke her breasts, cupping them, feeling their increased weight in his palms, working each nipple lightly until she shudders and curses with a hiss of incoherent expletives. She body shivers and shimmers under his touch.
"Does this feel good?" he asks, holding her hips and arching up a little more, careful not to cause her any discomfort, thrusting more gently now than before, shallower, but no less turned on by what she does to him and what he can do to her.
"Oh, so good," she grins, breathily, turning her head back to beg a kiss, her tongue sweeping hotly into his mouth, stroking feverishly against his, claiming him. "You?"
"Kate, like you even need to ask," he scolds lightly, running his fingertips in a wide sweep over her belly again that has her crying out and grinding against his sex with a tight, desperate grip and a high-pitched needy whine.
"Touch me," she pants, a bead of sweat running down between her breasts, her face flushed with this controlled exertion and her deep-seated need for him.
Castle strokes her from behind, right where they are joined, as Kate curls her knees up as high as her bump will allow. He reaches through his own legs to touch her; light, sure strokes that spread her juice over her lips and increase the sensitivity of every sensuous, creative caress.
He can feel her need building, the tension and concentration it's taking to hold herself back from the edge; to make the experience last.
"You're nearly there. So horny, Kate," he whispers, with delight that forms a smile as he brushes his lips against the nape of her neck, feathering her damp skin with his warm breath. "I want you to let go for me. Okay? I'll be right behind you," he promises sincerely.
She huffs out a laugh at that, since he literally is behind her. But she does what he tells her to do anyway, cutting her mind adrift to dwell in an ocean of pure sensation, to feeling her partner's body coupled with hers, his hard length stroking deep inside her, his fingers trailing so lightly over her swollen clit that she thinks she might shatter into smithereens at any second; her body so weightless, so tinted with color and sheer wonder that it will just break apart without her bidding; everything so much brighter than before.
He feels it, the second she lets go - the broken rhythm, the jerk back against him, the clenching and then the stilling while she lets her orgasm break over her like a wave, listening to her own body as she falls: the aching need, a divine itch, the flare and flutter, that amazing, exquisite tickle she can never get enough of no matter how hard or how often she chases it with him. He feels her wetness increase all around him, that warm, sopping wet heat of her arousal, and then, when she reaches behind to pull him closer, her fingers digging into his side, he's instantly cut loose too; holding firmly to her hips as he spills his load inside of her – throbbing, thrusting, stopping, stilling, shivering, aching, and oh fuck, Kate.
"I love you," she whispers seconds later, dropping her head back against his damp, heaving chest, letting out a long, slow, satisfied sigh of a breath. "I'm the size of a whale and you still made me come," she murmurs nonsensically, the smile in her voice beguiling him.
"You look like an angel," he tells her, and it's the absolute truth, powerful arms wrapping her up in him again, dwarfing her body with the scale of his. "An angel with a bun in the oven," he corrects, with his nose buried in her hair, making her laugh; shuddering and shaking with uncontrollable mirth against him.
"I'm sure that's against the rules."
"For angels?"
"Yeah. Bun in the oven? You get thrown out for that."
"You still look like an angel to me." Brighter than everything.
"I like this position," she tells him quietly, running her fingers up the curve of his arm, nails scratching lightly through the fine layer of hair that coats his skin.
"Good. Because we still have several months to go, and I plan on making you come a whole lot more, Moby Dick."
"Eh, that's Private Dick to you," she sniggers, nudging his ribcage.
"I see what you did there, Detective. Very clever."
They drift some more amid the quiet of late afternoon, crisp sheets and boundless love, touching one another ceaselessly; caresses that soothe and satisfy and maybe start something sensual all over again.
"Have a told you that I love you?" she repeats, sleepily, almost delirious, and they both giggle this time, enjoying each other and the freedom to do so while they still have it; while this special time is still theirs alone.
Brighter than everything that came before.
Brightness, noun: is an attribute of our perception of a color which is mainly influenced by a color's lightness. This is probably why brightness and lightness are often mixed up. Brightness is not a color property, if used "correctly". For one color of specific hue the perception of brightness is also more intense, if we increase saturation. A higher level of saturation makes a color look brighter. In relation to other colors the brightness intensity of a color is also influenced by its hue. Color terminology is complex and includes such varied factors as - hue, tint, shade, tone, saturation and intensity - all properties we can ascribe to any color, making the results almost infinite.
Brightness is an attribute of visual perception in which a source appears to be radiating or reflecting light. But it is also a term that can be applied equally to describe sound.
Thoughts?