love-crumbs

Happy birthday, darling cartographical! You are the light of my life, the wind beneath my wings, the constant force reminding me that A. Castle and Beckett need to be sexy, B. I should generally not misplace modifiers because it is bad to do that, and C. boob-grabbing is always a viable plot option.

In honor of your wondrousness, I give you this tiny little crumb of a fic.

"I carry your heart with me."

Kate hums but doesn't wake up. He's always floored by the softness of her in the morning, the way her briskness and clipped voice melt, leaving her limp and warm and gentle and vulnerable. She lets him see her this way. He feels like the luckiest man who's ever lived.

"I am never without it," he whispers into her ear, brushing her hair back carefully. Her eyelids flutter. "Anywhere I go you go, my dear."

"Mmmmm. Castle?" Her voice is soft, thick with sleep, and she nuzzles into his chest instinctively.

"I fear no fate," he murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss to her hand as she reaches for his face, "for you are my fate, my sweet."

"Mmm. Morning." She kisses his chest softly, lips ghosting over his skin.

"Morning." He brushes his lips against hers lightly.

"Why are you quoting ee cummings at me?" Her eyes are brighter in the morning light, the green overtaking the delicate flecks of golden hazel. She blinks up at him, sleepy but smiling.

"Because he says things so well."

"You say things well, too." She runs her fingers over his shoulder, traces feather-light circles on his skin. He catches his breath. She's playful in the morning. "You use pretty words."

"Whenever they're for you, they have to be pretty."

Kate blinks and traces the lines of his neck, trailing her fingers to his ear, the line of his jaw. "You're sappy in the morning."

"And you're gorgeous when you're sleepy."

"Only then?" Her eyebrow arches, but she's smiling, because she knows he thinks she's stunning. She doesn't always believe him. He takes great pleasure in persuading her. Repeatedly.

"You're beautiful on your worst day," he whispers, kissing her eyelids as they flutter shut beneath him. He can feel the pulse flickering under her skin. "You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

"Pretty words," she mumbles, but there's a pink flush spreading over her cheeks.

He lets his hand trail lightly over her hip, feeling the sudden tension of muscle, the strong lean body always there, just beneath the softness. Her breath gets quick. She bites her lip and he can't help himself, leaning down to rescue it, his tongue soothing the marks her teeth have left. She curls into him, her body curving into his, her fingers clutching at his arm.

"I never want to let you out of bed," he says.

She laughs, rich and full and lighthearted, the way she doesn't often get to laugh outside this private world. "I like being here."

"It took us a long time to get here."

Darkness flits over her face for a brief moment, a soft, sad shadow. It dulls her eyes and makes his heart hurt. "Yeah."

He runs his hand over her hair, feeling the silky curls slip through his fingers. "You know, for the longest time I thought I didn't have a snowball's chance in hell with you?"

"Really." He can hear the smile in her voice.

"You were always way too good for me."

"Well then. It's a good thing Dante made hell a lake of ice."

"Oh, you unbelievable woman." He kisses her soundly, hands tickling her sides until she's shrieking with laughter beneath him. "You have the world's sexiest tattoo. You drive a motorcycle. And you reference classic literature in bed. You really are the perfect woman."

She pants, her eyes full of light and teasing as she traces the line of his jaw. "More than just a pretty face, Castle. I like to think I have a brain too."

"-kisses are a better fate than wisdom –" he whispers, kissing the smile that curls her lips under his.

"Are you going to keep quoting poetry while you have your wicked way with me again? Or should I go get a notebook, start taking dictation?"

"Don't pretend you don't like it. I've seen how worn your ee cummings books are."

"You're the one who keeps reciting things." She splays her hand over his chest, lets her fingernails scrape his skin, drawing a sharp gasp as he clutches reflexively at her wrist. "You know which one I want to hear?" Kate grins, tugs his mouth down again, lets her foot drag slowly over the back of his calf as he raises himself over her, and oh, yeah, so that's what she wants to do right now – "I like my body when it is with your body – "

He growls his approval into her mouth, dark and hot and tantalizing. Her body tenses under him, muscles taut as he traces them. He touches her lightly, slowly, patiently, until finally she gasps, her hips rocking blindly into his. "Castle – "

(muscles better and nerves more. i like your body)

It's slow and deliberate and hot and too much and her eyes lock with his as he moves over her –

(and the trembling – firm-smooth ness and which i will again and again and again kiss)

She finally comes apart beneath him, her cry muffled into his sweaty shoulder as her fingernails dig into his back.

(and possibly i like the thrill of under me you so quite new)

He collapses onto her, exhausted, breath mingling with hers as he pants. Her tight grip on his back has relaxed, and her fingers are tracing idle patterns on his skin.

"Kate?"

"Mmm?"

He brushes her hair back from her face, leans to kiss the soft red mouth he loves so much. "You make all the poems work."

She smiles. Loving. Beloved. "I love you too."

(the best gesture of my brain is less than
your eyelids' flutter which says

we are for each other)