Disclaimer: Castle belongs to Andrew Marlowe and ABC.
It was his eyes, she decided. Those twinkling blue eyes that lit up like the sun bursting through storm clouds, that communicated every emotion and thought so clearly- even the ones she didn't want to know about.
Or maybe it was his throat. The lightest of stubble hinting at the delicious roughness that made her fingers thrill at the thought of touching, made her tongue tingle to taste. Maybe it was the way his adams apple bobbed as he swallowed. She had, on occasion, secretly clamped her fingers hard into the edge of her desk to stop herself from leaning over and sucking the skin there, feeling the movement through the wetness of her mouth, scraping her teeth along his throat.
No, it had to be his shoulders. Broad and strong, carrying the weight of single parenthood and two divorces and a dependent parent and an optional job that had put his life at risk one too many times as if none of it weighed at all. He still managed to be care free, still managed to make her smile. She itched to hold on to his shoulders, bury her face into the corner of his neck, breathe him in.
Perhaps it was his arms. She knew he was stronger than he appeared. She longed to feel the tight, possessive squeeze of his arms around her, making her feel small and safe.
Then again, maybe it was his hands. Funny, square hands that were nevertheless strong and capable of such gentleness. His hands were his tools as he expressed in written form the brilliance unfolding in his mind, but it was with his hands that he cared for others, whether holding his daughter close or feeding the birds with the boys. Even the barest whisper of thought of his hands being on her made her whole body begin to hum with arousal, the slightest of pink blushes creeping slowly up her neck.
But she would be lying if she said it wasn't his chest. Broad and solid, yet fleshy and comfortable, containing the heart of this big hearted oaf who abounded in joy and generosity. Oh, to be free now to explore every plane and valley with her hands, her mouth. To have the expanse of skin revealed to her, the light dusting of hair enough to emphasize his manliness, but not so much that it was unattractive.
It could be his sculpted rear end. She had been known to give his retreating figure a second glance as he walked away from her to get coffee, her eyes tracing the breadth of his back and lingering on his buttocks. The way the muscles played beneath his jeans made her bite her lip to prevent herself from smilingly dreamily and giving away to the entire precinct exactly where her thoughts were drifting. He would have a field day if he caught her looking. His smugness would be insufferable.
Or could it be his charm? The way he could make anyone from his daughter to the girl behind the counter at the coffee shop feel like they were the center of the world when those eyes lit up. The way he could smile and joke with a thousand fans, talk his way into or out of numerous awkward situations, flirt with grandmothers and win over small children. The way he made her laugh, lightening even the darkest days with his often irreverent humor. The way he bought her flowers and set up funds in her mother's name, the way he treated each and every new detail he learned about her as if it were a precious gift to be cherished and gloated over and kept safe, away from the prying eyes of the world.
Which brought her thoughts to his character. It surely must be his character. He came across as confident, to the point of being overbearingly full of himself- but she knew there was a humility underneath it all- that he donned his persona as a cloak to mask his true longing to be accepted for being Rick Castle, the man, and not just Rick Castle, the best seller. His true character, under the jackass he acted like on occasion, was warm, boyish, tender. Gentle yet immovably strong, willing to do anything for those he loved. Yes, he was brilliant, a true craftsman and actually quite intellectual in his own way, but it was his heart that was the wellspring of his character.
His heart.
Yes, it had to be his heart. His heart that longed to be the best father he could be, his heart that had proved his loyalty again and again, his heart that had responded to every need, again and again, with generosity and endearing lack of agenda. It was his heart that loved with all that he was was, that bounded with enthusiasm and remained steadfast when all hope of a happy ending seemed lost. It was his heart that had waited against all reason, against all hope. It was his heart that had won her own in the end, despite every road block they had encountered along the way. It was his heart she missed the most.
She shook her head a little to wake herself up from the reverie she had sunk into, only to discover that she had been staring at his empty chair for the past ten minutes, her pen hovering awkwardly above her daily reports all that time.
It had only been six days. This was pathetic.
She missed him, though. Missed waking up with his arms around her, missed the way his fingers flirted with hers as he brought her coffee in the morning, missed the tenderness of his gaze upon her as if she were all he could ever wish for, and all his dreams had come true simply by being in the same room as her, standing by her side. She missed him with a bone crushing ache, her need for him causing something life giving and joyous within her to wither slowly with every passing day. They were better together, she knew that- she had known it long before these six days of agony, of snatched texts and late night phone calls.
It wasn't that she couldn't survive without him. She could. Obviously she could. Her mother's murder had taught her that she could survive anything. But this forced separation was driving home to her just how much she wanted him around her, craved his presence. He had seeped into every crevice of her life, and now that he had been removed- however temporarily- the gaping chasm left in his wake echoed with an unexpected emptiness.
Her old self would have been scared, would have seen how much power he had over her and fled without hesitation. New walls would have been built, extra thick and extra high, battlements and fortresses designed to protect the keep of her heart. She smiled a little at the thought. Her wall was little more than a dusty memory, dancing and dispersing on the wind of his devotion.
A wadded up ball of paper bounced lightly off her cheek. Esposito was smirking at her from his desk across the room.
"Good to see your concentration is up this morning, Boss," he taunted, his words masking the shadow of concern in his eyes. She tossed the ball of paper back. He caught it effortless before it could bounce off his nose.
"I haven't had my coffee yet, that's all." It didn't taste the same when he didn't make it.
"Looks like you're in luck then," Ryan piped up, nodding at something over her shoulder. Her head whipped around to find a familiar figure looming behind her, blue eyes drinking her in over the coffee extended towards her.
She reached out with both hands, wrapping her fingers around the mug and trapping his hand under hers, eyes never leaving his.
"How?" she breathed, her face alight, as everything that was scattered within her suddenly pulled back together.
"Severe weather warning in Florida. Last leg of the tour was canceled," his voice was rough and deep and wrapped around her, releasing her heart from restraints and setting it free to fly once more. She allowed her eyes to rove over him, taking in the details of his appearance- his wrinkled shirt, the rough shadow of his stubble, the circles under his eyes.
"You haven't slept," she chided quietly, smoothing her hand across his tenderly and finally slipping the coffee fully from his grasp so she could take a sip, the taste filling her with his devotion, his love.
"I couldn't wait to see you," he replied, staring down at the pink of her tongue that swiped away the remnants of her sip, his eyes darkening. The coil in her abdomen tightened at the sight, her body canting towards his of its own accord.
A throat cleared behind them.
They turned in unison to find Ryan and Espo grinning at them from their desks, a couple of uniforms hovering nearby, gawking. Ryan glared at them for a moment, before speaking up.
"Hey, boss, weren't you planning a trip to the morgue, to see if Lanie had those results yet?" he asked a little too pointedly. Her frown deepened- they had no open cases today- before she caught the out he was handing to her. She suddenly beamed, her affection for her boys and their loyalty overcoming the momentary irritation at the interruption. Turning, she swept up her coat and bag, and headed for the elevator. She paused after only a few steps, the look she cast over her shoulder reminiscent of bedrooms and ecstasy.
"You coming, Castle?"
She was on him the moment the elevator doors closed, seeking his warmth, his taste, his touch. He welcomed her with deep, hungry kisses that spoke of how much he had missed her, too. All too soon, a ding notified their arrival in the basement car park. They broke apart automatically but unwillingly, both disheveled and gasping.
"Gates is out all morning. The boys should be able to realistically be able to cover for us until lunch, but we should probably shout for them." She would be forever impressed that she was able to communicate so coherently in this moment. Her chest was still heaving, her eyes dark and wild.
"Your place is closer," he replied, fists clenched at his sides to keep from reaching for her again. She nodded, turning on her heel to lead the way to her car. He trailed behind her, so caught up in the hypnotic sway of her hips and the way her dress pants fitted her so snugly that he gave out a yelp when she suddenly rounded on him, spinning him so that she could press him against her car.
"You need to not go away again. Missing you is too distracting," she said, before leaning in and devouring him with kisses.
Thoughts?