your kisses they burn
Sweat slicks down Kate Beckett's forehead as she stretches, palms flat on the ground, arms bent at the elbows as she focuses on the muscles in her core, contracting them as she counts down the seconds. She grits her teeth as she holds herself in a planking position, her shoulders screaming in protest, pushing through her labored breathing.
Three.
Two.
One.
She collapses in a heap, arms giving way beneath her, flattening her cheek against the floor while the rest of her body lies on the yoga mat. Her heated skin welcomes the cool smoothness of the hardwood flooring and she concentrates on her breathing, deep breaths in and out, easing her heartbeat into a more regular rhythm.
Roger won't be happy with her when he finds out she's pushed herself a little too hard again. Her physical therapist had given her a thorough scolding when he found out she'd been running every day and as a result, they'd come to a compromise; yoga twice a week in an attempt to ease her back into the fitness level she was on before her shooting.
Well. He thinks she's only doing it twice a week. What Roger doesn't know won't hurt him.
Her legs feel like jelly and her arms lie limp beside her, trembling from the physical exertion she'd just subjected them to. She's tired and for a few long minutes, she's content lying prone on her mat, clad only in a sports bra and workout shorts. Soon enough though, she realises there's way too much sweat slicked skin coming in contact with the yoga mat and she groans in disgust, peeling herself off the floor.
Her chest twinges as she stretches one last time, arms rising above her head, back arching as she works through the last of the kinks in her body. Tension slides off her in waves, and although she'll feel the burn of her overextended muscles later, she sighs in satisfaction. She loves yoga; loves any physical activity really, but since her shooting she's been finding it a lot harder to embrace it the way she used to. She makes her way into her kitchen, slinging a towel around her neck as she snags a bottle of water off her counter top. The water travels down her throat, cold and refreshing as she plucks at her sports bra, pulls the material away from her skin and it allows it to snap back against her chest.
Ugh, yes, she needs a good soak in her tub. It's the middle of the day, but the idea of sinking into the warmth, surrounding herself with the cherry scented bubbles until her skin wrinkles is too tempting for her to ignore. She finishes the last of the water in the bottle and starts towards her bathroom when the howling begins.
No. Freakin'. Way.
It's the goddamn fire alarm. Again.
She winces at the noise, loud and repetitive, echoing through her apartment. It's the fourth time in just as many weeks and she's been at home every single time the alarm's gone off. The obnoxious ringing continues and she backtracks, making her way to the window that overlooks the rest of the city. Looking down, she spots people walking out the entrance, gathering across the road as they've been instructed to the last few times this has happened.
Kate eyes the group wearily, notices their disgruntled faces and sighs. Disgruntled, but not afraid. That's good, it means no one has been seriously hurt. There's no real cause for concern. She's annoyed too - the last time this happened, it was because some college kids burnt their toast and they'd been stuck outside for forty minutes before being allowed back in.
Ugh, no.
Okay, not this time. She's not even wearing a shirt - she is most definitely not evacuating. Screw this. She steps back from her window and closes the shutters, blanketing her room in a soft, gentle glow. No one will know she's still inside. The fire department is just around the corner anyway. They'll will arrive soon - she can already hear the sirens - and give her building the all clear and everyone will be let back in, no harm, no foul. She grins in triumph, glad at being able to sidestep this particular inconvenience and makes her way back to her bathroom.
She plugs her ipod into her speakers to drown out blaring loop of the 'whoop whoop'-ing alarm and is about to run the bath when she hears a startling thud from outside her bedroom. Curious, she turns the tap off and her fingers reach for her robe. She's been a cop for too long and lived through too much to let noises like that slide, and although she's just a little annoyed at the slight delay she makes her way out of the bathroom to investigate.
Just as she breaches the threshold of her living room, her front door bursts open, crashing and splintering inwards as she yelps in surprise. It's loud and startling and before she can do anything about it, she watches as a huge chunk of wood falls off the hinges and lands with an echoing 'thump' on her floor in a cloud of dust and debris.
She's wide eyed and speechless, fingers outstretched uselessly as if she's trying to stop the door from breaking apart, mouth hanging open in absolute horror.
What the actual fuck?
She takes a step towards the gaping hole in front of her but stops immediately when a huge fireman barrels through, screaming unintelligible words as he skids into her living room. Her eyes narrow, irritation pouring out from every fibre of her being and bellows at him with every ounce of authority she can muster.
"Excuse me?! What exactly is happening right now?"
The fireman stops in his tracks, falls silent mid-yell and he tilts his helmet clad head at her, blinking in confusion and licks his lips nervously as it seems to dawn upon him that there's no cause for concern at the moment.
"Oh, hi, Miss-"
"Detective."
"Oh, okay, Detective. Uh," he pauses and removes his helmet as his head swivels around to look at the rest of her apartment. "A guy said he saw someone in your window and was worried about you being trapped up here and ... huh, well you're not trapped, are you?"
Kate growls under her breath, annoyed and angry at this - this 'Lt. Castle', according to the embroidery on his uniform. She shakes her head as an answer to his question as she surveys the mess he's made with his dramatic entrance.
"No. Clearly."
Lieutenant Castle looks apologetic enough, brow creased, eyes shining blue with regret. His helmet dangles off his fingers, useless by his side as he momentarily turns from her to mumble into his walkie-talkie. Beckett tears her eyes away from the destruction at her doorway and instead casts her gaze at the fireman as he says something about pulling back reinforcements. His jawline is sharp and angular, tongue darting between his lips as he barks orders into the walkie.
Okay, whoa, he's kinda ... kinda hot.
The yellow and red uniform does nothing to hide his bulk, actually even looks a little too small for him, straining against his biceps and torso, igniting sparks of desire within her. His hair, matted flat from the helmet hangs over his forehead adorably and the arch of his neck as he cranes towards the walkie attached to his shoulder is so enticing, the stripe of skin and sinewy muscle calling out to her and-
Oh.
She wants to lick her way up that neck and feel the faint hint of his stubble against her skin. What would he taste like? Adrenaline and wholly male, she assumes. Entirely male, strong and commanding.
"Detective? Detective?"
She shakes herself from her reverie, feels the heat crawling up her cheeks as she blushes, so completely caught up in her daydream that she'd missed the fact that he'd been speaking to her.
His voice is lovely.
No, okay. She banishes the stray thought from her mind and blinks at him, summons up the annoyance and irritation from mere moments ago so she can give him a proper scolding. He's cute, but he did just break down her door.
"Um," he starts again, flustered and confused, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. "I'm really sorry about the door, but there actually is a fire next door and you um, you need to evacuate the building."
Kate purses her lips as she listens, frustration back in full force as she takes in his words. "If it's next door, why do I have to go?"
She's being petty and acting like a petulant child, she's aware of it, but honestly - all she wants to do is soak in her bath, wash the sweat off her skin and maybe pull out her good friend from her naughty drawer to work through the arousal currently unfurling through her body.
"I'm sorry, but you really have to um ... have to leave."
He stumbles over his words, all the bravado from breaking down her door before disappearing into thin air as he looks at her, eyes hooded and cautious. "But maybe, uh, maybe put some clothes on first?"
Eyebrows furrowing at his comment, she looks down at herself and groans in embarrassment. Oh, great. Just great.
Her robe is wide open, dangling parted by her sides. She's forgotten about that and of course she's still in her sweat soaked sports bra. There's a draft flowing through her apartment from the fact that she now doesn't have a goddamn door, and the chill in the air has caused parts of her to ... harden and pebble against the too thin material of her top.
God. Damn.
She looks back up at him, blushing furiously now, an apology ready on her lips but stops herself when she sees the darkness clouding his eyes. He may have been a little shy and sheepish before, but the way he's staring at her now, open and hungry, dark and fierce - oh boy.
She sees him clenching his fist, as if he's physically stopping himself from doing something he's going to regret and the timid arousal from before flares up into a full blown fiery want. Excuse the pun.
The hand he's fisted by his side comes up to his shoulder to flick a button on his walkie talkie. Their eyes meet, stormy and dangerous and they both turn to her bedroom simultaneously.
She clears her throat and throws caution to the wind.
She shrugs the robe off her shoulders and it falls to the ground, lies in a useless heap by her feet. She stares at him intently, lets her tongue slick out to lick her lips, teasing him.
"I think I'm gonna need your help with this clothing thing, mister fireman."
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