Title: To Have and To Hold
Rating: If you're under sixteen, get your butt out of here.
Summary: Ah, weddings. A time of love, a time of hope and joy, a time for remembering just how annoying your family is, a time for… um… where are Castle and Beckett?
Disclaimer: Honestly, I don't think Andrew Marlowe would be such a prude as to sue me if I forgot a disclaimer, but for the sake of the law I'll just put this here anyway.
Author's Note: Weddings are fun, but I always get bored and, even if I get married, I am certainly never having a wedding. Hence, this was my subtle revenge against the bothersome ceremony.
When you occupy a certain position, there are certain things expected of you. If you are a bestselling novelist, for example, you are expected to be witty and well-read. If you are an NYPD Detective, you are expected to uphold the law.
And if you are the Maid of Honor and a groomsman, you are expected to be supportive of the newlywed couple, pose for photos, and generally fulfill the positions of best friend and semi-host at the same time. They were not positions to be taken lightly.
Beckett walks slowly down the aisle, her light lilac dress swishing slightly as she moves. Thank goodness Lanie's picked bridesmaids dresses that had some taste. Beckett's trying to keep a straight face but she keeps sneaking sly glances at the men up at the podium… or rather, one man in particular.
Castle isn't best man – that honor had gone to Ryan – but he doesn't mind. He's groomsman, along with a few of Esposito's many cousins. Esposito himself is standing near him, his poker face firmly fixed but his feet shuffling nervously. The thought strikes Castle that it was a good thing Ryan and Jenny aren't having a double wedding with Lanie and Esposito, because between Ryan and Jenny's massive Irish Catholic families, Lanie's large Southern family, and Esposito's prolific Spanish Catholic family, not even Westminster Abbey would have been able to hold all of them.
He stifles a laugh at the thought, but he catches Beckett's sly smile and knows that she's caught him. She winks, and his smile widens, making the corners of his eyes crinkle. She looks so majestic, floating instead of walking as she makes her way toward the altar. Her gorgeous mane of hair is curled into large, gentle ringlets and half of it is pulled back, framing her face but allowing it to still cascade around her shoulders and back like water. Her hair is brown, he knows it's brown, but as the light from the stained glass windows hits it her hair almost looks like golden caramel, swirling through the chocolate, tinting it and making it look so beautiful he just wants to run his fingers through it.
She senses his thoughts. Beckett isn't sure what they are, but she knows they're not the kind you're supposed to think in church so she arches one perfectly manicured eyebrow at him. Castle gives her an innocent puppy look that she doesn't buy for one millisecond, and then she's at the altar and she turns her attention to Esposito.
They may have started out as coworkers, but they've become a real team, all of them, and she winks at him conspiratorially, wishing him luck and playfully warning him to take good care of her friend in the same move. She takes her place at the altar, on the highest step closest to where the bride will stand, with the other bridesmaids – family members of Lanie's, along with Esposito's cousin, you know, the one he made his plus-one for Ryan's wedding – and turns slightly in preparation of what's going to happen next.
Castle's breath catches in his throat as Lanie steps through the double doors and onto the aisle. She's Lanie, his friend, Beckett's best friend, but right now he can barely see that, because he's so caught up in the image that everyone else is caught up in; the image of love. Lanie's fierce, Lanie's proud, Lanie's stubborn, but now all her features are softened as she gazes straight at Esposito like he's the only one in the room. Castle spares the groom a glance and sees that Esposito has the same expression on his face; one of absolute and utter devotion. Castle files away these images and thoughts for later, in case he needs to use them for a book.
Hell, who is he kidding; he's going to use them for a book, all right – the book where Nikki Heat becomes Nikki Heat-Rook. He knows Paula will surely have his hide if he gets rid of the 'Heat' part of the name because it makes for such great book titles, and Beckett will murder Paula if his publicist hurts him, and really, he just doesn't want to be responsible for landing several people in jail.
Beckett knows she just saw Lanie barely ten minutes ago. The normally cool and collected M.E. was fanning herself in front of the mirror, nearly hyperventilating with nerves. Beckett had calmed her down, because she's a good friend that way, and made a mental note never to freak out like this when she has her wedding. No, when she gets married she's going to be the picture of serenity and spare everyone else the trouble of dealing with her. Because Beckett loves Lanie, loves her like a sister, but for heaven's sake, that woman became a Bridezilla for a good few minutes back there.
Now, though… now… it's like Beckett's never seen Lanie before in her life. That can't be Lanie, the stunningly beautiful woman in the unbelievably gorgeous (and unbelievably expensive, in Beckett's opinion), blindingly white dress walking towards them now. This woman is so perfectly lovely, a vision of pure beauty and for the life of her Beckett can't think why. But then the moment of wonder fades and it's Lanie, just Lanie, and Beckett understands why she looks this way. It's the love emanating from her, gently shining out of her face and her being and flowing directly towards the man waiting for her.
Said man, the groom, has his mouth gaping open like a fish. Beckett wishes she was close enough to reach over and close it for him, but Ryan's been through this before (he sweat right through his tuxedo) and notices, too. He reaches up and gently smacks Esposito on the back of the head, bringing him back to his senses. Ryan catches Beckett's eye and grins. Her eyes slide from Ryan to Castle, who's watching Lanie intensely. She can almost read the thoughts flicking across his retinas and she knows, oh she just knows he's writing a story in his head about all of this.
If a warped version of this ends up in a Nikki Heat book she will end him.
Of course, this has her thinking that the only reason he'd put this in a Nikki Heat book would be to marry Nikki and Jameson, and she swallows hard as a tingly feeling starts at her feet and flows up her body at the thought. They're just fictional characters, they're not her and Castle, but damn if it doesn't make her feel just a little bit giddy.
Lanie stands next to Esposito, who appears to remember where he is and what's going on and smiles at her.
"You look beautiful, chica." He whispers to her.
Lanie smiles, her entire face lighting up.
Beckett can't help but smile, too. She feels a familiar gaze, the heat of his eyes upon her, and she turns and locks eyes with Castle. Nothing could wipe that grin off his face, and she shakes her head a little at the ridiculousness of it.
And then the priest starts talking and they turn their attention to him.
Well, Beckett does, anyway. Castle still sneaks glances at her throughout the ceremony because, hey, Lanie is a perfect blushing bride but his Kate still outshines all of the other girls by a mile.
She catches him looking (of course she does) and gives him her best warning glare, but he just winks. And because they're happily watching their friends be happy, she just can't keep it up and cracks, smiling at him helplessly and a little guiltily before switching her attention back to their friends.
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
One hour later and the service is just drawing to a close. Beckett could scream with frustration. It's only half the length of Ryan and Jenny's oh-so-traditional Catholic ceremony, but at least then she was sitting down instead of standing in four-inch heels forever. She also happened to be sitting next to Castle, and their whispered conversation was the best part of the entire experience.
She glances over at Castle, who's staring raptly at Lanie and Esposito as they finish exchanging their vows. He has a good poker face, but it's not as good as hers and she can tell by the way he's clasping his hands and tapping his knuckle that he's impatient. She zeroes in on his firm mouth and has to fight the sudden desire to cross the few feet that separate them and kiss him.
Castle can feel Beckett's impatience. It's radiating off of her, and he's pretty sure that if Lanie and Esposito weren't so wrapped up in each other that they'd feel it, too. Ryan can probably sense something but none of the others up there with them at the altar know Beckett that well, so they have no idea how ready she is to flee the scene. He knows how much she hates doing nothing. He's impatient, too. He's impatient in general, actually; the only thing he has ever been patient about is Beckett.
Speaking of Beckett… she's looking sexier by the minute, between how naturally stunning she is, the dress that shows off her curves and her toned legs and arms, and the extremely sexy impatient air she's got going on, he wouldn't mind ravishing her right there in front of God and everyone. Too bad that would get him shot. He's not entirely convinced that Beckett doesn't have her gun strapped to her somewhere.
Finally, the ceremony's over. Lanie and Esposito kiss while they all cheer, and Castle chuckles when the kiss (which has loads more tongue than he needed to see) goes on a little longer than is proper. Beckett rolls her eyes but she's laughing too. She's just smart enough to bite her lip and keep it under wraps.
Castle sees her bite her lip and his throat dries up. He swallows, but it doesn't help. She knows that always gets to him. Damn it – he wants her, and he wants her now.
The beaming newlyweds make their way back down the aisle while everyone cheers and throws rice and confetti, and suddenly Castle is at her side, seemingly by accident but they both know it's totally on purpose, as is the "accidental" glide of his hand against her butt as it wraps around her lower back to rest on her hip.
Beckett keeps grinning and clapping as their friends finally make it out of the church, and then as the crowd begins to move she presses herself against Castle, her hand brushing against that spot in the front of his trousers. He reaches out to grab her wrist but she's too quick for him, slipping away from him and out the door of the church to grab Lanie and hug her fiercely.
Castle grins. She's such a minx.
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
It is exactly an hour and forty minutes into the reception and no less than half of the guests are plastered. (It's Lanie and Esposito. Of course there's an open bar.) Lanie's friends from her hospital intern and medical school days are taking full advantage of the rare day off, and her family's clearly not the best at holding their liquor. The entire 12th Precinct is in inebriated on some level because two-thirds of them lost the betting pool and the remaining third that won are celebrating. Seems Beckett and Castle weren't the only couple everyone was betting on. And, of course, there's Esposito's family. The fully Hispanic clan is putting the Irish stereotype to shame.
Beckett takes a sip from her flute of champagne. She's not at all drunk – far from it – but she's halfway through her glass and is enjoying watching everyone else depart from sobriety. Castle's sitting next to her, his glass surprisingly full because he's too busy observing everyone else to drink. His witty remarks are making her laugh and nearly snort her drink up her nose at times, but she's getting antsy.
Castle leans in, his mouth hovering next to her ear. "Something on your mind, Detective?" He whispers. He always calls her that when he's teasing her, trying to get a reaction out of her, and damn if it doesn't work every time.
"I was just thinking that I don't want a huge wedding." She admits. Beckett nods towards the various guests, the elaborate table settings, the band and all the rest. "It's nice but seriously, Castle, how long are we going to have to be here?"
"You remember Ryan and Jenny's wedding?" He whispers. His mouth is so close to her ear, the hot breath curling around it and making her shudder.
"Yes." She says, her voice shakier than she wants it to be.
"Remember how the reception was at that winery vineyard?" His mouth is fully against her ear now, his lips moving against it. Beckett's gripping her glass so tightly she worries it might shatter in her hand, so she sets it down and holds onto the table in a death grip instead.
Castle doesn't stop talking, his voice as low and seductive as he can possibly make it. And oh, is he ever the expert at the bedroom voice. "Remember how we loaded our plates with food and snuck out into the vineyard and ate out there, under the stars?"
She does remember. She remembers very well. It was so tempting, out there with just him, and there were so many almost-touches and looks and temptations that she's still surprised they made it through the night without jumping each other.
"You were so beautiful, Kate." He won't stop whispering in her ear, he knows exactly what he's doing to her and he loves it. He loves that he can say these things now; that he can admit what he's thinking without fear of what she'll do. "You were such a tease, too, wearing that slinky gray dress that covered you up but showed every one of your curves. God, I had so many fantasies about peeling that dress off of you."
Beckett's breathing is shallower now, and more rapid. She glances around to see if anyone's noticed, but nobody has. Everyone, from Ryan waltzing with a two-months pregnant Jenny to Krapowski with her ludicrously skimpy periwinkle dress is wrapped up in their own thing. No one's noticing her and what Castle's doing to her with just his low, sexy voice.
He trips his fingers lightly up her leg, curling his other arm around the back of her chair – not touching her, no, that'd be too easy – but close enough so that she can feel the heat, feel his presence surrounding her. Her breath hitches.
"We talked." His voice had dropped another octave. "We talked about everything. I think I told you my entire life story that night. I do believe we even discussed sex positions at one point."
Beckett swallows, but knows she has to say something. She can't let him have all the power. "I still like girl-on-top better than missionary." She whispers huskily.
He can't hide his shudder, and she presses her lips together to hide her smile. He is just so easy.
Castle recovers quickly, though. "I wanted you so badly that night." His voice is a genuine growl now.
"Just that night?" Beckett teases. She knows what the answer is, but she loves hearing him say it.
"I want you every night." His fingers have trailed all the way up her thigh and are now creating goose bumps on her arm. "But that night it was almost unbearable."
She sucks in a breath. "Well, what's stopping you now?" She asks, her voice breathy and low and far too close to panting.
Castle's tongue darts out and flicks her ear, and it's Beckett's turn to shudder. "Absolutely nothing." His growl is raw and primal and makes her so wet she squeezes her thighs together reflexively.
Beckett stands up abruptly, and Castle only has time to grin impishly at her before she's yanked his hand and is pulling him out of the large reception hall and out a side door, into a long, dark hallway that has no lighting except for the moonlight streaming in through the massive windows. One, two, three doorways down and Beckett opens the one marked 'stairwell', pulling him in and slamming the door shut.
Then it's her turn to be slammed because Castle's got her pinned against the wall, attacking her lips with his own, forcing his tongue down her throat and gripping her so tightly she would yelp with pain under normal circumstances. But now is different – now she's just as desperate as he is and she wants that roughness, craves it; she wants to be battered and bruised and marked as his.
A lesser man might divulge the fact that Beckett likes this, that she enjoys it when he's possessive with her, aggressive and demanding, taking what he wants and accepting no quarter. She's so controlling in general and it can be mighty tempting to talk, but Castle never does. He never shares this, because this is their little secret, their sex life and he will treasure it and hold it close because it's the least he can do for the woman who has given him so much. She's given his life meaning and made him better, made him a true man, and now she willingly gives him her body despite all the scars and she trusts him with it, and he will never, ever betray that trust.
Beckett frantically pulls his shirt out of his pants, grateful beyond words that he already took off his jacket about fifteen minutes prior to all this because she just wants him naked, wants to run her hands and her eyes and not least of all her tongue over every inch of his body. She'd be able to get this all done a lot faster if he would just stop distracting her with his kisses, but Castle's nipping at her clavicle now and his hands are running up and down her sides and she can barely even think when he smells this damn good…
Finally, yes, finally she gets his pants off. They catch on his shoes and pool around his ankles but he has all the maneuverability he needs. One long, dexterous finger slides into her heat, and she whimpers into his mouth.
He nearly comes undone when he feels how slick and wet she is. Her underwear is done for and her wetness is even starting to run down her legs, and the very idea that he's the one who's got her so desperate and turned on makes his erection painfully hard. He's glad she already got his pants off because shit, it would have hurt to be like this with them still on.
She doesn't want to waste a second. She never does, she's never patient. Beckett is a doer, and right now she wants to do him. The hand around the back of his neck tightens as she jumps up a little, just enough to wrap her legs around him – God in heaven, those long, sensuous legs – and lift her dress out of the way.
Castle repositions himself a little, making sure that he's got her securely between the wall and his body because last time, well, they were both a little tipsy and all he can say is that he's never going to look at his office in the Old Haunt the same way again.
Then he enters her, practically ramming himself into her, and she gives a kind of whimper-scream as her head falls back, her inner walls clutching him like a vice. She always does that when he first enters her, almost like a possessive grab of the hand, as if to claim him. Then her walls relax, and he's able to move. She helps him how she can, moving in time with him as they find a weird but workable rhythm.
Her hands spear into his hair, running through it and reveling in both the softness and the wetness of it as sweat gathers, her face tipped back against the wall and gloriously flushed from exertion and ecstasy. Sweat is running down her body, sliding into her cleavage and he presses his face to it, captures it with his lips, drinking her body's salty juices and making her moan.
It can't be more than two minutes before she starts to unravel. Like a ball of yarn that someone pushed down a hill, she's gaining speed and losing control, racing swiftly down a slope and unable to reign herself in, to pull back or even soften the blow of the fall.
He presses his face fully into her breasts as he comes, all of his energy shooting out of him along with his seed as his body seizes up. It's almost like his spirit and body separate, one remaining still and unmoving while the other soars, launched into the sky like he was shot out of a cannon, crazy and euphoric and electric in a strange, indefinable way and over far, far too quickly for his liking.
For a single, crystal moment they can only stand there, endorphins humming their own little song as they zing through their bodies, but then their spirits return to them and they both slide, slowly, down the wall to slump onto the floor. Their limbs are all tangled up, hands and legs and pieces of clothing that belong to neither of them and both of them, and they're laughing breathlessly, Castle chuckling and Beckett giggling in the way that only he gets to hear.
She moves so that she's half on top of him, smiling, her lipstick kissed off and her mascara running from the sweat, her hair coming undone and plastered to her face. He reaches up and strokes her face with the back of his hand, his smile hovering at the corners of his mouth and his eyes shining with love.
"Hey." She says softly, giddily.
"Hey yourself." He allows his grin to take over.
She leans down and they kiss, their tongues touching and swirling together, his bottom lip pulled into her mouth just a little so that she can suck on it. He hasn't had a sip of alcohol all night but he suddenly feels very, very drunk.
When they pull apart, it's only so that they can smile at each other again. They're both a little high still, the buzz within them now just a hum but still present, and they don't speak for fear of breaking this little golden bubble they're encased in.
Then Beckett leans in, her mouth hovering next to his ear the same way that his was hovering near hers just twenty minutes ago, and he knows he's in for it.
"I'm still hungry."
It takes a moment for this to sink in. When it does, he turns to her, his blue eyes flashing concern. "Did you not–"
Beckett immediately kisses him again, cutting him off, and when she disengages her mouth from his it's only so that she can nuzzle his nose with hers. They're breathing the same air, in and out and in and out, mimicking the rhythm their bodies just shared.
"That, just now, was incredible." She assures him, and she's relieved to see the concern leave his eyes. "But I'm… still… hungry."
He gets it now, and his grin is nothing less than devilish as he sits up, standing and pulling her up with him. He sits down on the stairs (which she'd forgotten had even existed) and pulls her into his lap. She swings her leg so that she straddling him, pressed against him as close as she can possibly be, like she wants his body to absorb hers and make them one.
The thought crosses Castle's mind that they're both still pretty much dressed, and normally, this would be enough to make him pause, make him slow things down so they can get properly naked, but he sees the lust in her eyes and he can't help it, he wants her and he wants her now and damn if he's going to wait another second.
She sinks down on top of him, the deep angle hitting her right in that spot and she can't hold back the little gasp that slips past her lips. He clutches at her, keeping her pressed against him, unable to bear even a fraction of an inch to separate their bodies. Beckett has control now, she's the one setting the pace, and she moves quickly, her hips rolling a little and making Castle's teeth clench as he tries – and fails – to stop his groans.
Up and down, again and again and again until it's almost too much, and she is so sensitive, and so soft in his arms but slippery, and he holds her so tightly she's going to be bruised, but she welcomes the idea, her long, lithe legs squeezing him, pinning him beneath her. She's in his arms and he's in her, in every sense of the word.
Building and building and building and–
"Is someone in there? Is everything all right?"
Castle's started thrusting his hips upwards but now he freezes, his jaw dropping and not from pleasure. Beckett buries her face into his shoulder, burrowing into him while her fingers clutch at him, piercing his skin.
There's the sound of someone banging on the door, and the thought flashes across Castle's mind that this person must have downed a few because anyone with any common sense would have just ignored whatever they heard (or thought they heard) coming from behind the door.
"I'm fine." He calls, holding Beckett to him protectively.
"Are you sure?" The voice is high, feminine, and strangely familiar.
Beckett is trembling in his arms, her face still buried in the crook of his neck, and he rubs circles with his hands along her back to soothe her.
"Yes, I'm sure." Castle responds. Why can't this person just go away?
"Okay; if you're sure." The voice is teasing now, and Castle realizes who it is. It's Krapowski, and she is definitely drunk. "But y'know, big boy, if you're all aloney on your ownie in there…"
"Just making a few phone calls." Castle says quickly. He doesn't think that Krapowski knows who she's talking to; even if she was totally wasted she'd know better than to make a move on Beckett's man.
Beckett is literally shaking in his arms now and he's worried that she's crying, but that wouldn't be like Beckett at all. Angry, maybe, but she's far too tough to let something like someone interrupting them cause her to lose all control.
There's the sound of a man talking, and then Krapowski says something return, followed by some giggles and naughty laughter. Beckett can't help it, she snorts, and Castle realizes that she's laughing, she is laughing at this, and why the hell is she laughing because this really isn't funny, not at all.
Krapowski has evidently found someone who won't leave her "aloney on her ownie", and he can hear her and her knew friend stumble down the hallway, away from the stairwell and the woman in his arms who is clearly laughing now. There's no hiding it; Beckett can barely breathe from laughter, it's making her entire body shake uncontrollably, and tears are streaming down her face as she bites her lip to muffle the sound.
"Not funny, Kate." Castle says, pulling back a little to look at her.
She is just so adorable, her eyes shining and her cheeks tinged pink, her glossy bottom lip tugged between her teeth and her hair all tousled. Her whole face is a picture of joy; she's the very definition of a sex kitten right now.
Oh, she knows that expression. He thinks she looks like a Bond girl or something. Beckett feels very playful all of a sudden.
"C'mere and kiss me, Rick." She teases, her voice pitch-perfect for Marilyn Monroe but with a sexy timbre that is all her own.
He does so, and she begins to move on him again, their movements even faster this time. Maybe it's the fact that they were nearly caught, but they both come insanely quickly, the wrongness of it doing wonders for their sex drive.
In an act of rebelliousness, she doesn't stifle her orgasm this time. She flings her head back and cries out like a wild animal. That's all the encouragement Castle needs, and he doesn't bother keeping quiet either, his voice so raw it's almost unrecognizable.
It takes them ten minutes. Ten minutes to even be able to move off of each other. She feels tingly all over and her body has shut down, all the strength gone from her. Castle knows that if he even tries to stand up, he's going to fall flat on his face.
When they finally get something other than endorphins flowing through them, they quickly fix themselves up. The restrooms are off of the same hallway, thank goodness, so they both go and clean up, using toilet paper and towels to wipe off their sweaty bodies and remove the slickness running down the inside of their legs. Beckett doesn't bother adding any more makeup, knowing that any lipstick she reapplies will just be removed in a few minutes by Castle, but she does make a few touchups so that she looks presentable. Castle fixes his hair – or tries – before giving up and letting it do whatever it wants, because there is no way in Hell it is going to behave now.
They meet again in the hallway, outside of the restrooms. They stand there for a moment, just looking at each other. Beckett feels strangely shy and embarrassed, like meeting your date for your first school dance, but then Castle gives her his happy puppy-dog grin and she is firmly in the present once more.
She steps over to him, takes the arm he offers her, and they reenter the reception hall. The party is still in full swing, no one's noticed their disappearance, and when Castle looks around the room he sees that several other people are missing, Krapowski among those AWOL.
The band is still playing, and Castle turns to Beckett, relieved and exhilarated that they got away with it.
"May I have this dance?" He asks, comically formal about it.
Beckett grins, her eyes twinkling. "It would be an honor." She says, playfully matching his joking manner.
As Castle leads her out onto the dance floor, Beckett catches Lanie's eye. The bride is relaxing next to her new husband, but she's not so wrapped up in him that she doesn't give Beckett the evil eye.
She gulps. Maybe their vanishing act wasn't entirely overlooked after all.
But then they're on the dance floor and Castle sweeps her into his arms and nothing, nothing at all exists for either of them anymore. Everything fades away until it's just them and the music, carrying them up and into some higher realm that only lovers know.
Show of hands – who thinks Esplanie will get back together before Caskett even gets to second base? Uh-huh. That's what I thought.
Oh, and uh, weird personal moment: my aunt and uncle live in Northern California and had their reception at a winery when they got married, so that's where I got the idea from. No, I did not sneak out to the vineyard; I was far too busy taking pictures and videos. Blackmail, people… blackmail.
To view Lanie's wedding dress: google Mori Lee 3053
For the bridesmaid dresses: google Mori Lee 732 and just change the color to lilac