since feeling is first
who pays any attention
to the syntax of things
will never wholly kiss you
- ee cummings
"You awake?"
She hums a honey-soaked sigh into his chest in affirmation and he grins, kisses the crown of her head, so utterly delighted with her.
"I was thinking that we should get out of town for the weekend." He traces a line down her face, over the swell of her cheekbone and to her jaw, ever fascinated by the architecture of her bones. Especially here, especially now when she surges up towards him in moments of blissful clarity and then she slips away into a drowsy serenity again, waxing and waning. He is the tide, the full moon of her face his captor. "Have a little time to ourselves."
She mumbles something, turning to press against him. Her eyes are screwed shut, her mouth a lovely line that he'd kiss if she didn't look so very comfortable with her head pillowed on his chest.
He brushes her hair back, his thumb tracing around the shell of her ear. "What?"
"Sleeping," she groans, flicking the sensitive skin just underneath his ribcage. "Shh."
He chuckles, his arm coming up to press her closer. He loves the way she fits against him, the curve of her body so very soft. "Sorry. We can talk about it in the morning. Sleep."
He's mid-swallow when she speaks, a mouthful of pancake getting lodged in his oesophagus on the way down. He hacks a cough, grips the edge of the counter and screws his eyes shut, concentrates on breathing.
She's smiling at him when he can stand up straight again; the mischief painting her face just makes him want her more. "You can't just come out with that."
"It's true though." She shrugs, sips her coffee and smirks at him over the rim of the cup. "You do just want to take me away someplace where we can have sex without worrying about being interrupted."
He comes around the counter and pushes her up against it, his hands bracketing her hips. "Yes. That's entirely true. But it's not the only reason."
She raises an eyebrow at him, the line of her mouth so appealing that he can't help but slide his tongue along it and then inside, all of him still struck dumb by how easily she opens for him. When he breaks away her mouth stays open, her eyes tracing a path over his face.
"I want to go somewhere where we can walk down the street hand in hand without hiding. I'm so proud to be yours and I want to be able to show it, just for a little while." He tests the fullness of her lower lip with his thumb, hovers there as she kisses the pad of it.
He loves when she smiles against him, how it shocks him still. And oh, how his heart exalts when the peal of her laughter rings out. "Okay. Where?"
"My house in the Hamptons." He slides his hands up and inside, skating along and around the cage of her bones, thumbs playing at the chord of her ribs.
She stills, her hands coming up to gentle him. "You want to try again?"
He knows what happened. With Demming, with that summer. He knows.
"Yes. Again."
She nods, the leaves of night falling around her feet. "Again."
"I love you."
He drives.
She's dozing in the passenger seat, her day at work leeching out of her bones. She wants to leave it here, paint new lines on the highway with it so that she can be his this weekend. Just his.
"You still with me?" His gaze flicks to her and back to the road and she closes her eyes, imagines the ticker tape of his vision, how she must look to him.
She brings a knee up onto the seat, curls her body to face him. "Mm. Sleepy."
He smiles at that, all of him so very soft. "Yeah. Today was draining."
"You just watched me do paperwork all day. How's that draining?" She's slurring, her eyelids dragging. She thinks he's smiling at her but it's hard to tell with the black of her lashes brushing over her vision again and again.
His fingertips are feather-light at her clavicles, drinking from the shadowy pools. Sometimes she thinks about all the times he must have wanted to touch her, all the ways he makes up for it now. "It takes a supreme amount of effort to sit still and not think about you in the shower or my bed or oh, the elevator, Kate-"
"Not the elevator. No." She sighs, sits up a little straighter as if it will reawaken her. "How far off are we?"
He takes a turning onto a road with no streetlights, the darkness suddenly liquid and flooding like the Hudson River. She tilts her head back, keeping her mouth above water. "About an hour. You can sleep."
"No sleeping. Got to keep my energy levels up for when we get there. A whole house to christen, Castle."
He doesn't bother to turn the lights on when they arrive, his body electric at her back, nudging her to the master suite. She barely has time to gasp and then he's tugging her shirt up and over her head, his mouth hot and insistent, his tongue lapping at the pool of her navel as her muscles contract and shudder under him and oh God oh Castle oh-
yes-
That.
She wakes him up in the middle of the night for more, his sheets cool and sinful over the burn of her need. Her hips kissing his and her hands travelling all over, all over and yes, she can have him. He'll be hers.
The early morning sunlight limns her, the dawn-soaked clouds at her back when he finds her on the balcony. Her mug, when he takes it from her, is cold, so he laces his fingers through hers to warm her.
"You okay?"
She hums, turns to him, her profile so very lovely. "The house is beautiful."
"Yeah." He shifts, moves behind her, his hands sliding around to her stomach. She leans into him, the arch of her body against his making him gasp. "There's so much I want for us."
He means this weekend. He means the beach and dinner out and the pool and anything else, everything else. She looks at him over her shoulder, the swatch of her face he can see not enough. "I know. Me too. This first."
She's wearing jeans, a denim shirt with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows and some sort of pattern down the sides. It shouldn't be hot but it so absolutely is, this sun-drenched version of Beckett that won't stop smiling at him.
"You want to go into the town with me?" He steps to the side, his arms crossed and leaning on the railing, his hip nudging into hers. "We could go for a boat ride."
She slips her hand into his back pocket, her fingers cool and fresh and fluid. "Boat ride, huh? I'm surprised you're prepared to let me out of the house."
"Can't have you all to myself. That's not fair."
She laughs at that, her eyebrow rising. "You want to share?"
He growls all in his throat, pushes her against the railing, his hips rolling against hers. "No. No sharing. All mine."
She lets him kiss her, her hands clenching uselessly at his sides, clinging to a shirt that isn't there. Her tongue is sinful against his, her toes tracing over his bare feet. She pulls back gasping, her eyes molten and dangerous. "I want a boat ride."
The wind whips along her cheekbones, catching her hair up in a tempest around her head. She keeps tucking it behind her ear again and again and he clenches his fingers in his pocket, wishes he'd thought to bring a hair tie. She doesn't seem to mind though, all her focus on their captain. She's soaking in all the information he gives her about the marine life and the tidal patterns and how the boat works.
All the things she asks, all the things she wants to know. He forgets, sometimes, how smart she is, how she loves to learn. His hand smooths over the curve of her spine, curling around her hip and tugging her tight against him. He's so proud to know her, so happy that he can share her delight.
She told him once in the middle of the night that it's him that gives it back to her, that she didn't think she'd ever be so vivacious again after she lost her mom. It had slayed him, left him gasping and boneless under her before she'd even touched him.
She turns to him, her eyes so wide. "Castle, did you hear that? We might see dolphins today."
"Uh huh. I heard. Don't get your hopes up though. Alexis was heartbroken when we didn't see any for two consecutive summer when she was in middle school." He smiles, kisses her cheek because she's so wind-bitten that he can't help but want to soothe her.
She shrugs, lacing her fingers and resting her forearms on the railing. "Yeah. I know. But the possibility is exciting, don't you think?"
"Yeah. You're right, it is." He tips her face towards him, brushes his lips over hers as tenderly as he can. She grins against his mouth, hovers there for a moment and then she's swatting at him, nudging him until there's a couple of inches between them.
"Stop distracting me. I'm looking for dolphins."
Her heart's still pounding when she comes out of the bathroom ready for dinner, and the way he looks at her doesn't exactly help. "You still buzzed about the dolphins?"
She grins, shaking her head so her hair falls around her shoulders. "Did you not think they were beautiful?"
He shrugs, his eyes raking over her. She knew, of course she did. She knew what this dress would do to him when she packed it. It's not even tight, not even short, but he's leering, stalking towards her and fisting his hands in the fabric at her hips.
She beams, nuzzles her nose against his. "You ready to go?"
"Changed my mind." He kisses her, his teeth sharp at her bottom lip. "We're not going out."
She smirks, runs her hands up his chest and laces them behind his neck. "You gonna cook?"
"Nah. We can order in."
She steps back, narrows her eyes at him. "Nuh uh. No way. We're in the Hamptons. We are not ordering in."
"Kaaate," he whines, pouting. "Look at you. I can't sit opposite you and eat dinner and keep my hands off you. I can't."
She raises an eyebrow, folds her arms in the way she knows accentuates her chest. "It's not like you haven't seen me in more revealing things. You've seen me naked."
"Stop it." She closes her mouth, then, the sharp snap at the end of his words unmaking her. She gasps and he catches her on the exhale, his arm banding around her waist and tugging her in to him. "I really need you to not say things like that. That's exactly the problem. I know exactly what I'm picturing." He reaches out, gets a hand somehow inside the triangle of fabric over her breast and she's not wearing a bra and really, her knees should not be going weak already.
She feels lithe against him, he makes her so fluid. She wants to cover all of him, this beautiful man. He knows, the bastard, tugs her tighter against him, his free hand palming her ass. She groans, her head dropping forward to his clavicle, her breath coming fast.
Maybe dinner can wait.
When they get back she's full, glad for the forgiving fabric of her dress. Castle keeps stretching, making this noise of utter contentment that's just absolutely more than she can deal with. She curls next to him on the couch, accepts the wine he offers.
She closes her eyes when she sips, opens them to find him beaming at her, his eyes soft around the edges. "I'm so glad you're here."
She twines her fingers with his, returns his smile. "I'm so glad to be here."
"There's no one I'd rather do this with. No one who could make it as wonderful as you."
"What? The Hamptons?" She leans back into the cushions, wriggles a little to get comfortable.
"Life."
She opens her mouth to respond, to tell him yes, me too, but there's a crash outside, a splash, and they're both jumping to their feet and rushing out the French doors, the light from the lounge spilling onto the patio.
A body in the pool.
Of course.