A/N: Here's the deal: I don't ship this couple AT ALL. For the record, I find this pairing a bit squicky. But my dear friend AnnieXMuller does, and she needed cheering up after seeing the immature reactions in certain corners of the fandom to various recent events. So I'm writing this for her, even though I should be working on one of my WIPs. If you don't like the pairing, consider the back button on your browser to be a flashing exit sign. The rest of you can already see what this fic is going to be, so I shall warn you no more ;-)
Many, many thanks to Jo for the quick beta!
Bex, I hate you for this.
Disclaimer: Castle is a TV show owned by ABC and written by Marlowe & Co. I completely respect their work, but am not affiliated in any way.
The lights were low, the bar was smoky, and the rest of the team had trickled out the door one by one, slinking out into the shadows en route to their various homes and families.
Only the two rookies were left.
Instead of gathering her coat as she downed the last of her drink, she signaled for another.
"Got no one to get home to, Beckett?" he asked, feigning disinterest as he traced the condensation on his glass with a finger.
She didn't respond. He correctly interpreted that as a no. He'd been on the same team as Beckett for a number of weeks now, and she had yet to open up about her private life.
He was good with that. He had her back anyway.
But he also had an empty apartment to get back to, and after a day like today...
There had been a hole in their circle in the bar that evening. One of their own wasn't going home to his family tonight. And that just made his own apartment less appealing.
He wanted to not be alone tonight.
He had a feeling she wanted the same thing.
She lifted her eyes to his. Eyes full of loss, swirls of darkness rising and choking the very life out of her. "Espo-" she began, but her voice cracked.
Kate Beckett's voice never cracked. She never let it.
Yet, it did.
He felt himself being pulled in by the nakedness of her emotion. He'd never been good with damsels in distress.
Awkwardly, he reached over to pat her hand.
She flipped hers beneath his before he could pull away, clinging on as though lost.
Electricity zapped up his arm.
How long had it been since he'd held hands with a woman? Too damn long.
He gaped at her, but she didn't see his expression because she was too busy staring at their joined hands, bottom lip caught between her teeth.
When she raised her eyes to his, they shimmered with unshed tears.
"He was right next to me, Javi," she whispered. "If that bullet had strayed just a little to the left..."
"I know," he soothed, squeezing her hand. "I keep thinking of his family last month at the picnic. His boy is set to graduate this year. His wife was talking about the trip they wanted to take when he retires."
She swallowed, looked away. He couldn't help but follow the elegant line of her neck with his eyes, greedily mapping out her skin.
It wasn't until he felt her squeezing his hand that he realized she'd caught him staring.
He opened his mouth to apologize, but all of a sudden she was leaning in, brushing her lips against his softly.
His eyebrows shot up, and it took him a moment to process what had just happened and the fact that she was now waiting for his reaction.
"Beckett..." he began, but she shook her head.
"I know. But tonight... I just need someone," she looked into his eyes beseechingly.
One hand reached up of its own volition, stroking her cheek, tucking the loose tendril of her bob behind her ear.
"Just tonight then," he whispered, and guided her mouth back to his.
He could taste sorrow on her lips. Passion and need, too. Her lips parted for him, drew him inside, and some deep within him sprang to life.
She was soft and pliant and aggressive and needy and it had been so damn long since he'd been with anyone.
It wasn't long before he was pressing her back into the corner of the booth, lips and tongue and teeth and oh, God, hands reaching for everything in proximity, tasting and touching and sucking and biting. Her hand slid inside the back of his pants causing him to buck into her, just as his thumb swiped across her very erect nipple through her clothes.
They pulled back and stared at each other, chests heaving, lips swollen.
The group gathered under the TV near the bar let off a cheer, reminding them that they weren't alone.
"You want to take this back to my place?" he whispered, but she shook her head. Leaning in, she swept her tongue over his stubble.
"Getting there will give me too much time to think," she breathed, working her way down his throat.
He thought for a moment- an incredible feat, considering what she was doing with her tongue- and drew back, capturing one small, wandering hand in his own, tugging her out of the booth.
"I have an idea. Come on," he whispered, leading her through a nearby doorway.
The little hallway was dim, with a single, dull light bulb the only illumination, and he led her past the bathrooms to a door at the end of the corridor.
"With any luck..." he said, and tried the handle. It opened easily, and inside was the store room- several dusty shelves, and a clear path to the big fridge. It was illuminated by an even dimmer, dustier bulb, but the far end of shelving was cast into almost complete shadow.
He spun her so her back was against the wall the moment he was near enough, and then they were upon one another, tugging at shirts and maneuvering buttons. He kissed his way down the neck he had so admired earlier, sucking on her collar bone and leaving a mark. His thigh slid between her legs, and she began gyrating against it on instinct. She gave up on trying to rid him of his shirt and settled for pushing it back off his shoulders, running her hands up his torso and down his back, sliding them under his waistband to squeeze his taut ass, pulling him closer to align their centers.
He pulled the cups of her bra down, sweeping his tongue over her nipple, causing her to cry out in pleasure. He used his fingers on the other, teasing it into a peak, then switched sides, lavishing them with equal attention.
"Please... Espo-" she gasped, moving her hands around to his belt buckle. He watched her undo his belt and pants with hand shaking from sheer need, before doing the same.
Once her pants were free of her hips, they fell to the ground with a quiet whoosh. His came down with a solid tug, her thumbs looped into his silk boxers, leaving him exposed.
She sought him with her hands, running her cool fingers along the length of him teasingly, before enclosing around him and giving him a few rhythmic pumps. He nearly blanked out, jerking into her hand and gasping against her neck.
"Shit. Beckett- I can't-" he mumbled incoherently as she added a wicked twist to the end of each stroke. He blindly ran one hand down the length of her torso, pushing her panties aside and running his fingers through her moist heat. "Shit!" he swore again as she made a keening noise in the back of her throat and began rubbing herself against his digits, her hands leaving his cock to claw at his shoulders and arms, her weight giving out from under her. He steadied her with his spare hand, but didn't cease from his ministrations, sliding two fingers up into her and pumping at a fast, firm rate.
"Espo- now!" she cried out, her walls clenching around his fingers in warning.
He slid his fingers out slowly, regretfully, and she arched into him, chasing the sensation. Dragging her soaked panties as far down as her could reach, he stepped into her, allowing his erection to coast through her wet folds teasingly. She let out a low growl, glaring at him to get on with it, and he aligned himself at her entrance with a smirk.
"You sure you want this, Beckett?"
Her response was an almost ninja-like move, lifting a leg high around his waist and using it to draw him into her. She clenched tightly around him as his length stretched her, entering her in one long, steady stroke. He ran his hands down her thighs, signaling her to bring the other up. The movement drew him into her more deeply, and he grunted at the sensation.
Using the wall for leverage, he drew almost all the way out of her before sliding back in. He watched her face as he repeated the motion, her eyes fluttering shut, head thrown back, biting hard on her lip to keep from calling out. It didn't take long before he began to speed his thrusts, the way her muscles were clenching around him telling him more clearly than words could just how close she was. He put all his concentration into outlasting her, knowing he wouldn't last much longer.
He felt her clench around him as she shattered, wave after wave making her shudder and keen around him, tipping him over the edge as he spilled into her, hips pumping, burying his face in her neck as he came, trying his hardest not to shout, before collapsing into her, using the wall behind her to keep them both upright as they caught their breath.
Another cheer broke out from the bar, muffled by the walls of the store room, reminding them they weren't really alone.
Beckett unwound her legs from around him, taking a moment with each to test their weight before stepping away. He watched her pull her pants up her endless legs and resettle her shirt before slowly moving to do the same.
"I should go clean up," she said, gesturing vaguely at the door.
He nodded. "I'll be out in a moment," he replied. She ducked her head a little in response, and slipped out of the store room.
When he emerged a few minutes later, there was no sign she'd ever even been at the bar.
He came into the precinct early the next morning to find her at her desk, already immersed in paper work. She glanced up at him as he walked by her desk, held his eyes for one long moment, before dropping them back to her reports.
She wore turtlenecks for the rest of the week.
They never spoke of it again.
Thoughts?