Disclaimer: I don't own Castle or any of the characters. Andrew Marlowe & Co. are doing a fantastic job...I'm just having some fun.
He wasn't sure how long he had felt this way. The words had tumbled from his lips months ago, but the truth had claimed his heart even before he could give it a voice of its own. It had wrecked him so thoroughly that he'd never be the same. He'd never be the man who didn't love her.
And while his need coursed through his body as sure as the blood in his vessels, he had waited, stood by through robbery detectives and cardiac surgeons and dirty bombs and mentors' deaths and sniper shots. She was all he wanted now. He had become a man who would pathetically take any gifted smile, rejoice at whatever hope there was for a future by her side.
It wasn't healthy, that unrequited love.
But now…she was standing in front of him, her silhouette framed by the magnificent windows of his loft. Her dark eyes screamed cries of longing, the vibrations echoing somewhere deep inside his chest, and he answered her the only way he knew how; he lowered his head and captured her mouth with a careful kiss, soft and warm. Her lips parted, a silent request for more, but he pulled away. There was a flash of fear in her eyes, washed away when he lifted her into his arms and walked them into his bedroom. The longest seconds of his life led to a pile of clothes on the floor, naked bodies craving consummation.
Lying diagonally across his bed, her legs were draped over his shoulders; he bowed to his Mecca, her goosebumped skin his horizon. He whispered promises against her inner thighs as they trembled with anticipation. She shone for him, a beacon calling him home, but he simply nuzzled her center, barely making contact with his hungry lips and unshaven face. Her scent was intoxicating, a fragrance unique to her body, and one of which he'd never tire.
When he finally tasted her, it was with nothing more than the tip of his tongue. A tease for both of them; a shallow dip into her pool. But a starving man presented with a feast has little self-control, and so he began to devour the banquet spread before him. She writhed, he ate. Her hips rose eagerly, but he held her in place, one strong hand splayed across her belly. As her moans got louder and her tangy flavor got stronger, he knew the coiled tension was building. Without hesitation, he slid two thick fingers from his free hand inside her.
The intrusion, welcome though it was, caused her to buck into him again. He managed to maintain contact throughout the undulation, continuing to ease her to her climax. The sensation of having her wrapped around his fingers was incredible; she'd tighten around him, pulsing, pulling him in, but then she'd open up again, as if she needed to be filled more completely. He hadn't paid as much attention to any other woman's response to him…this was amazing. While rolling her clit between his lips, and flicking it with his tongue, he curled his fingers upward and stroked against the rough spot he found there. She came with the shout of his name and the invocation of a higher power, and he kept his mouth pressed to her as he brought her back down.
She shook, the effects of her orgasm still working their way through her body while he watched. He'd observed her for so long, he couldn't possibly stop now. He withdrew his hand, mesmerized by the slickness coating her swollen folds, the dark pink of her aroused flesh. She took a deep breath, an attempt to calm her racing heart as she bathed in his adoration.
It would be easy to resent her, his captor. She'd unknowingly shattered the playboy, leaving a helpless romantic among the ashes, and now she had the power to destroy him with a single breath. But when that breath was escaping from sated lips, parted in the hint of a smile, he had no desire to be freed. She'd done this to him, and he was tragically grateful.
He kissed his way up her smooth body; he wasn't the first to make that journey, but damn if he'd be anything but the last. Finding the soft juncture of her shoulder and neck, he sucked gently, until she rolled her head toward him and let her tongue lazily tangle with his. He knew she could taste herself in his mouth and was willing to share that with her forever, but his erection was hard against her hip, a reminder of his unsatisfied need.
Leaving her with a deep kiss, he moved to the bottom corner of the bed and knelt between her legs. He lightly trailed his fingertips along the inside of her thighs, causing her to shiver, before he slipped his hands around her ass and tugged her toward him. She was open for him, still glistening, still pink. His eyes met hers as he leaned forward and entered her with one careful stroke.
Without warning, and while holding her hips in place with both hands, he sped up, thrusting into her possessively. His emotions had waged war, a full assault on logic, the knowledge that she was here and giving herself to him. He didn't want anything given to him in that moment. He wanted to take it. She'd tortured him for years, bit lips and haunted eyes, and his need was ruining him. It was everything and nothing and she was so perfectly clenched around him and it felt like punishment for him and a reward for her.
He watched as she fisted the sheets, seeking hold of anything that could keep her grounded before he sent her flying. Her chest was flushed and she was gasping for more. Gazing down at his position, he knew he had her hips tilted upward at an angle that was driving her headlong into ecstasy. He found himself wondering if she could come like that, without any contact on her clit. But now wasn't the time to play. Her expression was drowning him in desire and he couldn't look at her any more. She was too much.
Pulling out, covered with the evidence of her pleasure, he backed up to roll her onto her front. She went willingly, blessing him with control he'd never before been given. He ran a rough hand down her spine, until he got to her waist. Then, reaching around to palm her taut stomach, he lifted her enough to slide a pillow underneath her pelvis. Keeping her legs as close together as possible, while still leaving himself room to maneuver, he covered her body with his and moved slowly, almost achingly so, until he was buried deep within her heat.
Unable to see her face, he was calm again, no longer burdened by his love. Instead, he lost himself in the feeling of their connection, rocking back and forth. He could hear the wet meeting of his skin against hers, mixed melodically with the whimpers pouring unrestrained from her mouth. Poetically erotic. Occasionally he'd interrupt his established rhythm, dropping kisses on her shoulder blades, tangling his fingers in her hair. But then he'd start moving again, as sure as ever that he was where he belonged.
To her credit, she stayed passive for longer than he would have imagined possible, until she finally started squirming, quite blatantly rubbing herself against the pillow. He wasn't ready for this to end, not for him, but he knew she could keep going. She would keep going. Never having made love to her didn't preclude him from understanding her insatiable appetite for everything in her life, healthy or not. So he let his hand drift down between her legs, circling her clit unerringly. Her scream was muffled by the comforter, but the way her body pulled him further inside, attempting to milk him dry, let him know that she had fallen.
He carefully slipped out of her, questioning his next move. But ultimately, she had all the power, always had. And when she pushed him backward, he had no choice but to surrender to destiny. He waited, watched, studied, prayed as she crawled over him, his perspective affording him a view of her wet center, warm and ready for more. Prolonging their mutual need, reminiscent of their entire relationship, she hovered there, and he was sure the delicious agony was shining from somewhere behind his blown pupils.
Gracefully, she curled forward, kissing him softly and almost humming into his mouth as she sank onto him. He had already been without her for too long, there was no way he could let her go now, and he gripped her hips to help guide her pace. Her nipples brushed against his chest, the smallest of sensations nearly ending him. He looked up to her face, so gorgeously framed by a curtain of hair, and found her lip tucked familiarly between her teeth.
It was in that moment, seeing her so completely open to him, letting him love her, that he realized that she didn't have to stay on his pedestal. That she probably never wanted to be there in the first place. He'd called himself her partner, but spent too much time bowing at her feet, far away from the closeness they now shared. It wasn't fair to either of them, and he was ready to move past it.
Her body was still resting against his as she rode him languidly, so he cupped her ass with his hands and held her tightly to him, increasing the pressure on her clit. Each forward stroke along his shaft was driving them both to the edge; he felt a tightening that warned him that his release was imminent, and she was getting sloppier in her movements, falling into him and panting in his ear. He could do nothing but encourage her, his words of devotion sounding dangerously like they could be followed by a matrimonial oath. And then she shuddered, clinging to him desperately while begging him to join her. So he did.
It took a long time for either of them to move, fused together by sweat and affection, the strength of their heartbeats the biggest reminder that they weren't dreaming. He felt her breathing even out, the exhalations tickling his neck. His hand found her cheek, caressing it tenderly even as she tried to hide her face against his skin. When he managed to tug her away, ready to see everything he had so carefully avoided minutes ago, her tear-filled eyes took him by surprise. A shy smile reassured him before the worry could surface, and he knew it wasn't time to ask questions. Instead, he offered answers of his own.
He eased out from underneath the blanket of her body, guiding her onto her back. He smoothed his hands over her sensitive flesh, still pink and responsive to his touch. This wasn't about working her up any more; it was an attempt to bring her back down, so he covered her with chaste kisses and enjoyed the salty taste left on his lips. When he was sure that her tears wouldn't fall, he made his way back up to her mouth, whispering the words he had held back since his original confession.
Then she said them back.
And every second he had waited was worth it.
A/N: While I was inspired by "Light as the Breeze," this is not meant to be a strict analysis of the song. I just went with my general feelings while listening to it; the conflict and beauty of the lyrics. As always, I appreciate your thoughts.