Walls

By Midnight Caller

Disclaimer: The usual. Don't own 'em. I'd only mess 'em up anyway.

A/N: Written for the kinkofthecastle meme.

The prompt: "Castle/Beckett in Love & Die in LA - the walls of the suite are thin and they can hear each other masturbating."

Let's pretend for this piece that the suite's bedrooms are next to one another, since it just makes more sense. This is my first fic in close to a decade, so…posting this is nerve-wracking. FYI.

The door closed with a quiet click, and his fingers slipped off the cold handle as they fell back to his side. Taking a deep breath, Castle crossed the room, flopped down on the bed, and stared up at the ceiling briefly before closing his eyes. Almost absent-mindedly, his hand wandered down to adjust himself in his ever-tightening jeans, but this did nothing to stop the arousal now thrumming through his system.

He hated that he was this enraptured by Kate Beckett, that he wanted her so badly, that he could get a semi-hard-on just from a warm look, the smell of her hair, the sway of her hips, even if was as she walked away from him. He could blame Josh. He could. It certainly made it easier to cope.

He flopped an arm out to the side and happened upon the TV remote. Sighing to himself, he clicked on the power, hoping he would stumble upon a late-night Skin-e-max movie, anything to distract him and relieve the pressure in his groin.

After passing over several infomercials, he stopped channel surfing on what looked like a cheesy made-for-TV movie from the early 90s. All Castle cared about was that a barely-clothed woman was mounting what appeared to be a fully-naked man, and hopefully their future activities would be enough to get him off. With a deft finger, he undid the button on his pants, slid down his zipper and shoved down his boxers. Pulling his dick out into the open, he slowly began to stroke himself.

The man was now disrobing the woman, the scene nearly obscured by soft-focus filters and darkened lighting. The woman's dark hair fell onto the man's chest, and he moaned, calling out her name. She replied in kind, moaning the man's name even louder. The screen became a montage of dissolves between various body parts: supple thighs, sweaty arms, heads thrown backward in ecstasy.

The woman's dark locks swished this way and that, and Castle knew she reminded him of Kate; he didn't care. His hand continued on its up-and-down path, growing his erection hot and hard. Caressing the moist tip, he finally let himself enjoy this a little, closing his eyes and letting out a moan of his own.

The woman onscreen must've echoed his sentiment, because he heard her moan again. When he slid his eyes open, though, their cinematic lovemaking was over, and they were now in a post-coital cuddle. But he could have sworn he had just heard…a moan.

And there was it was again.

Switching off the TV, his erection temporarily forgotten, he sat up to listen for the source of the sound. Perhaps a couple next door were enjoying themselves. Pressing his ear to the wall next to the bed, he heard it again: a woman's moan. Smiling to himself, he continued to listen, and that's when it suddenly occurred to him: this wall was the one he shared with Kate's room.

Castle froze. Eyes wide, ears pricked, pants around his thighs, he kneeled on the bed, not knowing what to do. He heard a throaty gasp from the other room and his cock twitched, aching to be touched. Knowing that Kate was in her room touching herself made him want to burst through the door and make her moan for all sorts of different reasons. But she'd walked away from him. She was with someone else. So if this was he could have, he'd take it. And right now, all he could process was the image of her on the bed, her fingers working expertly across her clit, her breasts tight against her shirt as they heaved with each breath. He gripped himself tightly and stroked, biting at his lip at the pleasure.

His imagination wasn't that far off. On the other side of drywall, pipes and wires, Kate was sprawled on her stomach in her underwear, her pants long ago discarded. Gripping a pillow in one hand, she moaned into it as her other hand lay trapped beneath her, steadily working a rhythm with her grinding hips.

She hadn't planned on this. After leaving Castle and his wistful eyes behind, she'd fallen back on her bed, the day's events replaying in her mind. Her heart heavy with the loss of Royce, she was surprised to feel aroused at all, but she knew it was because of the man in the other room.

He wanted her; that was obvious, but the way he wanted her, the way he'd looked at her just now, she knew he loved her. And as scary as that was, it terrified her even more than she knew she loved him back. She was with the wrong man, Royce was dead, and she'd just turned down what would have probably been stunningly good sex.

The pain in her heart was suffocating, and she longed for one of Castle's stupid jokes or Royce's over-indulged fictions to distract her.

Wiping a tear from her cheek, she sat up and wriggled off her leggings, ready to slide into bed and some much-needed sleep. She was about to turn on the TV when she heard a moan from the other room. Castle's room.

Hearing music interspersed with the moaning, she concluded he was watching a dirty movie, but instead of rolling her eyes, her blood warmed and she felt a strong pulse urging her on from between her thighs. As her hips moved of their own volition, a dirty thought crossed her mind.

Slowly trailing her hand around her lower stomach, she paused at the top of her underwear, poised to dip her fingers below the elastic. And that's when she heard a sound that was undeniably not from the TV. She recognized Castle's voice in the groan that bled through the wall, and as wide-eyed and shocked as she was, it turned her on to no end. She slipped below the last bit of material at her waist and couldn't stop the moan that escaped her lips.

Castle had gotten off thinking about Kate before, but this…this was different. He'd never heard her, never been so close to her doing this, and he steadied himself on the headboard with his free hand. The other was fisted around his cock, now coated in a sheen of precum.

Pulling hard toward the tip, he then varied his touch as he travelled down his smooth shaft, imagining her muscles tensing around him.

"Fuck. Kate." He breathed, a finger running along the ridge and across his tip. God, did he want her. Wanted her above him, below him, surrounding him. Wanted her mouth on him. Wanted to make her scream his name.

His hand moved faster as he imagined her breasts bobbing as she rode him, faster still as she let him run his tongue through her warm, wet pussy, tasting and smelling what he'd only imagined for three long years. Yes. YES.

When Kate heard her name from him, her middle finger slipped inside her wetness, circling upward to press on the swollen nub. Castle was thinking about her, and all she wanted was to be the one getting him off. Wanted to make his eyes roll back as she sucked on his dick, let him rub it across her tits, feel him push it into her, full, thick, and hot.

She moaned into the pillow, never turned on so much in her life. Pressing on her clit with her thumb, she continued to curl her other finger from the inside, the dual sensation milking the arousal from her, and it dripped across her thighs, through her panties, and down onto the sheets.

Oh, he was so close. Leaning back on his heels, his head lolled back and his eyes closed as his hand skillfully brought him to the precipice, muscles tightening in anticipation as he neared his orgasm.

Her hips ground into her hand with abandon, wanting so badly for it to be Castle's, his thick fingers stroking her, his tongue gliding across her clit. She felt a warmth grow deep in her belly, spreading electricity through her veins as her mouth fell open, her eyes squeezed shut in concentration.

A few deft flicks of her fingers was all it took to push her over the edge, and with a final moan, her inner walls squeezed around her finger, warm and wet, and she rode out the remaining spasms on her thumb and the palm of her hand. Collapsing onto the bed, she just tried to catch her breath.

And then she heard him climax and almost came again.

Jesus.

Her orgasm was the most beautiful thing he'd ever heard, and with two more strokes he was there himself, pumping into his hand with a groan, coating his fingers with his own warm fluid.

Holy shit.

He sat back on his haunches, completely spent in all ways, his breath coming out in short puffs.

For a brief moment, he allowed himself to imagine that he would open her eyes and see her there, a smile on her satisfied face, her naked, sweaty form spread out on the tangled sheets. He would lie down next to her and would be free to run his hands through her curls, kiss her lips, trace his tongue across the curve of her ass.

Reluctantly, he opened his eyes to his empty bed. But for that one, brief moment, he had been truly happy.

fin.