Thank you to mobazan27 for the prompt found at the end and for continuing to think of me with prompts.
It hurts.
God, does it hurt. In the bad way and the oh so good. She gasps, louder than she means to, when lightning splinters through her. White, bright pain that she can't hide. Where they touch, where the bullets tore through her flesh, where breath seeks a desperate escape from restricted lungs. It hurts.
His weight is a little too much to bear, the position putting her body in all the wrong places. Undue pressure, too lax and too stretched everywhere that should be the opposite.
His fingers dig in, how she likes, and she flinches. Desperate to hold him close, desperate to push him away.
"Kate?"
He stops, freezes, a shallow sweat of exhaustion breaking out on his skin too. His forehead dips and touches her own, pained blue eyes search the agony she knows she cannot hide.
"Want me to -?"
"No." Her hands cover his ears, making him deaf to her pained plea. She pulls Castle down, lips brushing as tired, angry, frustrated breath races out.
One kiss in and he pulls back, covers her hand and guides it to his hair. He stops her, waiting her out as she takes in those ragged, desperate drags of oxygen.
Kate watches his chest heave as she does. Against her breasts, where he lays so tentatively against her, she feels the tightness spreading over his ribs, through the near panicking muscle. So twisted up in this together, the grief of almost loss, the frustration of healing and recovery, the craving for closeness. It helps that feels too.
They breathe together for a few, long, drawn out seconds, counting through the wisps of fiery pain that lick around their wounds. It simmers as numbers amass silently in their heads, eyes locked, until one of them has the ability to speak through it.
"It's agony -" she croaks, finally, fingers clenching tight in his hair when he makes to pull away, "- being without you -" her breath catches, hot tears burning bright enough to make her eyes shine in the dark. "When we can't - it's agony."
A tear falls and slithers over the harsh line of her cheekbone. It takes a moment, as the world falls back into place, pain ebbing away, to realize it's not her own.
"Rick -" she croaks, all that's needed for the last weeks to take yet another toll.
Pressed together, his forehead drops to her own once more, his arms shake as the force of holding himself above her - trying desperately not to hurt her - cause his muscles to tighten and burn. He fights against it, bones rattling until it's unbearable. He gives up, slowly, as reluctantly as she does, body falling to align with hers on the mattress.
Silent tears fall, tracing patterns of sorrow into the creases of her collarbones. The hollows of her shoulder fast becoming a pool of lamented worries. His breath is hot in the crevice of her neck, fingers drifting in shallow patterns across the map of scars that mark her battled journey to survive.
It's the first time they've tried. It feels like forever since they touched in any way beyond clinging in relief that they both lived. Months they've gone without. Without comfort, without the physical connection and release.
Healing.
Together, but distanced by the trauma of all they endured, this moment has built into something neither of them has given voice to. Now, coming together feels like the answer to a prayer, something sacred that lingers just beyond their grasp.
She needs this.
They need this.
The burn of near death still sings at the edges of their existence, and the only way to drown out that cacophonous roar of impending demise is to lose themselves in each other.
They need it.
It starts slow.
They drift away from each other enough that Castle can pull her back into the wall of his chest. Tears have fallen silent now, no longer needed. Somehow, in agreement, they've decided tonight may not be their night, and they seek comfort in each other in other ways.
Her head tips back, and Kate swipes at the dampness of his cheeks, kissing the places her fingers dust as soon as they move away. Laying together quietly soft strokes and the feel of heartbeat at her back lull them both into peace.
His fingers meander up and down her arm, nails rasping at the veins of her wrist, eliciting a shiver. She hums and his lips press at her shoulder, tongue darting out at the touch of salt that stains her skin.
She huffs and heats flares, love too, for the man behind her, so content now in his arms.
The nudge of his thighs at the backs of her own when he wriggles to get comfortable has her pulling her lips between her teeth. Battling internally she wonders if she should push the feelings coming at her now, the slow sizzle of expectation coming to life in her body when it responds to his.
Her eyes lift to his, wide in the darkness, neck arched and spine rigid with anticipation. He reads her expression and smiles, the sudden increased heat between them making her heart flutter.
She hears the moan slip between her lips, surprised at her own vocal reaction to something as simple as Castles hand sliding around her waist. Trailing slowly, the pads of his fingers circle and caress, rasps again when scratches, indentations eased and soothed. Relaxed, but on edge, she simmers slowly. Wonderfully, in a way she hasn't for such a long time.
His hand on her hip burns differently than before. Intense heat where he lays over her, when he moves sparks fly.
In this position, on their sides and facing the same direction, there's less pressure on muscles and scar tissue. Less pressure all around somehow.
The trail of his thumb just below her navel makes her breath catch and heated flickers of want fizzle through her abdomen. Her thighs press together in surprise at the strength of it, the urge to throw herself back and open to him so vivid her nails dig into her palms as she holds herself still.
But he knows, reacts instantly, fighting his own losing battle.
Spooned together, Castle pulls her closer. Gentle insistence at her back, angling her hips to fall into his own. She pushes back, squirming and sighing as their thighs fit around each other, slide into place.
He stirs and her eyes flash wide, delight and remembrance at the feel of him, so close to being inside her. Her fingers itch to reach back and claim, feel the bobbing weight, the hardness and barely contained strength.
His fingers slide between her own a split second before she moves, anticipating, stealing away her ability with a squeeze. Another when she groans.
I want to touch you.
She thinks it. Internally screams it. Begs it when her fingers curl around his own and grip hard.
He shudders, the memory of her dexterous fingers, teasing hands in other places almost too much for them both.
"Kate." He warns and she breathes out, nods eventually, knows they have to play fair so they can play at all.
He breathes out heavily, relieved. This is already so much more than either of them expected. Lovely tension, possibility they cannot leave unchased.
Her fingers pinch, nails digging into his bicep in a silent communication, telling him she feels it too. Chest tight with burning need, Kate knows how hard it is for him to take his time. To go slow for her, with her.
At full capacity, any other time, they would have fought it together, torn apart what was separating them in a savage and forceful battle. It would have lasted all night, left them aching and a little bruised. Taking turns with each other until they both lay spent and exhausted.
Now everything is slower.
Finite.
Simmered down to the simplest movements, the barest touch, everything means so much more.
Where they lay now, one hand cups her breast, teases, explores. With soft flexes and flares of his digits, Castle relearns the feel of her, the reactions, which movements now feel like too much and what has her lips popping apart in surprise.
It's all a little unknown. All smeared with a little danger. All new, and yet still so undeniably them.
His fingers leave her nipple on a long, slow tug, a dragon's breath of fire spreading from his pinch straight between her legs, burning at every aching muscle in between. It pushes aside sorrow and suddenly everything between them is reawakened.
Her body erupts in stains of colour, gooseflesh that seems to catch and alight over his arms, down the backs of her thighs where they press against his own. She feels him quiver into it.
Coming back to life. Together.
They shiver.
The intensity, the contrast of what they felt only moments before, so stark, so momentous that it steals thought and memory. Nothing exists to them now, beyond each touch.
His hand drifts over her chest and strokes her jaw. The pad of his thumb is suddenly so large and seductively suggestive at her bottom lip that she opens to him, biting down.
No thought to it, just action.
The sound he makes (surprised, hungry for more) makes her bold, and when he pauses in his pursuit of tilting her chin for his kiss, her tongue darts out, stunning him into silence.
At her back Castle's head drops, a groan, a sigh, something ghosts her skin and she knows he's taken by it too. This moment, everything between them, taking on a life of its own.
Kate pushes back when he lifts to watch her again, finds his mouth and takes it without restraint. God, she's missed him, missed this undeniable ability they have to connect. To speak to each other in silence. The taste of him floods her senses and they groan into each other, lost.
It's slow, sweeping, all consuming. The kind of kiss that leads to thousands of others, to losing time and forgetting to breathe. They cling to each other, feeding on the frenzy of desire that builds, builds, builds between them. Every clash of tongue and bitten plea mounting.
They gasp, coming apart, burning for each other.
His hands drop to her hips and he squeezes, the evidence of his need for her pressed so firmly into her back, it takes no effort at all to lift and open for him. Invitation obvious, both so close to the edge, the feel so right there, grazing him, is almost too much.
His fingers sweep, hot, wet seduction burning over the tips and she feels the way he reaches to touch it to his own skin before he pulls closer to push inside.
It's tight.
Slow.
Tender.
It burns so beautifully that her mouth falls open and no sound escapes. She's stunned by it, the feel of him finally inside, the weight, the slow push. The way her own body reacts and seeks more, more, more of him.
A long, slow hiss of awe tickles through her hair, a kiss lands sloppily at the nape of her neck and Castle tries to fight through the intensity of feeling her surround him. Heat and softness, wet willing flesh so closely tied up with his own that they lose where each other end, only knowing this is the start of everything.
Made whole in each other, they can begin again.
Her fingers tighten in his hair as she pushes back, pulls him deeper, her leg coiling over his own. A position she's never really given much thought to suddenly becomes her very favourite for everything it's allowing them to share.
Her eyes burn, at the sweetness of it, tears held back that she doesn't berate herself for needing to relinquish. Happiness - joy, even - warrant the shedding of a few tears.
Worth it, this is so worth every little bit of it.
They pause on a hot heavy breath and every minute movement is a spark, a road flare on a path for ecstasy.
Splayed across her stomach, Castle's hand slips lower and Kate knows that once his fingers are moving against her it won't take long. So tightly wound by the weeks they spent healing just out of each others touch, the months they spent apart before that, they come together so easily now, that passion threatens to overwhelm them both.
But she wants him there with her, needs to feel the lightning fast rush of his pleasure ripple through her, as intimately entwined as two people ever could be.
Kate drops her foot over the curve of his knee and Castle pulls back, just enough that they both cry out. Back and forth, he forgets for a moment the merry path his fingers had been taking, the slow slide inside Kate whiting out his vision. It's slow, slower than it's ever been before, but the intensity builds quickly, mounting with each stroke.
A soft whimper leaves her lips on his thrust, pulls his attention back from the sweetness of her ass nestled at his groin, the tightness of her lips in their most seductive kiss.
His thumb parts her, finds a ready wetness there that paints his fingers and the flat press of pressure he applies there makes her break the silence again. Crying out, she nods as he slides against her, over and over, a long line up and down, a regular rhythm as slow as the one he keeps up from behind.
"I love - you." He pants, one arm banding loosely about her chest to tickle and tease at her breasts. The sweet, warmth over his fingers increasing with every touch, every stroke.
She nods, lips parted and eyes a hazy glow of lust that he's missed, just as much as the feel of her engulfing him. He shudders and pushes in deeper, somehow holding her up and holding on for dear life when she pushes back and squeezes hard.
The tight band of her inner muscles steals his breath, releases sounds he was never sure he'd make again. No pain for him, for her, only bliss. Bliss and the feel of his wife coming apart in his arms.
He's close, knows she is too by the little gasps and surprised sobs that now escape her mouth on every quickening thrust. She lifts her face, finds his eyes, begs in silence to be kissed and he can deny her nothing.
Their tongues dance together, hotly tangling. His fingers spread her wide and the slow strum driving her to distraction is suddenly so perfectly timed, so perfectly in tune with everything her broken body needs that she comes, hard, pulsating against him.
Her body shudders and shakes, floods with a warm sensual heat, a euphoria that feels ridiculously addictive. She quivers, shimmies through the last splinters of pleasure and - mmm - she could do this all day.
The feel of her tightening, throbbing around him tugs Castle sharply over the edge. One hard squeeze, her deep groan into his mouth - still so damn sexy - pulling his release from him in a frantic rush. His hips snap a little harder, driving into her all the more. She gasps and retaliates, bodies answering each others call. Over and over, back and forth. Together they drag it out until their bodies can take no more.
Sated, panted breath becomes the only sound.
A sheet falls over them, neither entirely sure who pulled it there, some blissed-out team work in effect, sensational sex making them both a little delirious. They know they'll hurt in the morning - with their luck long before then - but it will be worth it. Much like everything about them, the hardest things are always worth it.
They don't move, other than to slowly pull apart, neither of them wanting to lose the closeness that's been so hard fought for.
"I love you, too." She hums, finally able to respond.
She sounds dreamy, hazy and lazy with it, and he hums, suddenly unable to find the words himself. It's silly, wonderful, and for the first time in a long time their bedroom echoes with the sounds of laughter and happiness.
Prompt : I've been reading wonderful stories about their pregnancy after their shootings but, I've often wondered how their first time making love was for them and I could only think of one word: tender, in all of its meaning.
Tender...