A/N. I swear I set out to write straight-up stairway smut, but apparently I can't write sex without some level of angst and tenderness creeping in there, too. ;)
Also, this is the first fic I've ever posted. Not for lack of trying, but because I'm neurotic and incapable of finishing anything. This is my first time posting something for the public eye, so please review! Fictional writing is really outside my comfort zone, so I need to know if I'm on the right track…or just flat out suck and would be better off sticking to my Photoshop skills. lol
Disclaimer. Definitely not mine. I think we can all agree the show is flawless in the hands of Marlowe and Co.
"Let's go."
"Please."
Her fingers are wrapped around his in a vice grip as she hauls him out of the kitchen and towards the grand foyer, every bit as desperate as he is to finally, finally move forward with their weekend. Tomorrow is their last day, and they are not above trying to make up for lost time.
Castle stops to take a quick peek out the front window and exhales when he sees tail lights pulling out of the driveway, confirming that Chief Brady is indeed gone. Just as a secondary precaution, he rotates the deadbolt on his front door with a solid click and turns back to Kate with a triumphant glint in his eye.
She's still holding his hand, her expression mirroring his own, eyes dancing with the relief and finality of putting the last piece of the case behind them.
Although untimely and unexpected, the interruptions did wonders in terms of testing the staying power of their relationship. The thrill they still get from solving murders and serving justice is a reminder of just how equally matched they are…even when the call of crime temporarily outweighs needs of their own.
But now the physical withdraws are urgent and demanding, their theory building and banter serving as a kind of foreplay, stroking and kindling their desires the way it did the first four years together. Their restraints have been pushed to the limit, and now that arousal is teetering on the edge, threatening spill over with every passing graze of his thumb over the inside of her wrist.
There's a still moment where they would swear they could hear electricity crackling in the air between them, but then it's a clash of limbs and tangle of mouths, and their bodies move in complete sync with one another as Castle brings both hands around to her ass and lifts her as she jumps and lands effortlessly in his arms, her long legs coming up and locking around his hips.
Still determined to romance her properly, Castle moves to lead them upstairs but gets only a few steps closer to the foot of the stairs before Kate's urgency takes hold and she slides out of his grasp, hands roaming up the front of his chest, stopping him with impressive strength as she shoves him into the wall and rises up on the first step to mold and curl the contours of her body in perfect alignment with his.
She doesn't wait for his shocked reaction but instead pushes forward and fuses her lips to his, her tongue impatiently seeking out purchase in the heavenly refuge of his mouth. In a hurried effort for him to comply, her nails stroke a burning trail down to his thighs, thumbs dipping dangerously close to where he is aching for her most. Suddenly the air in his lungs is not enough, and her demands are rewarded when he gasps openly into her mouth, instantly granting her the access she was seeking. He strokes back, moaning and meeting her thrusts with his own, the smooth burn of whiskey still lingering on their tongues.
He needs no prompting to forget the stairs and continue right where they are. Her dominance only fuels the fire that has been mounting in his veins, the tension in his belly tight and coiled, clawing at his insides to be let free. But concern alerts him at the back of his mind. Her urgency is too great, her kisses edging on desperation, and he can feel her working them both into a dizzying pace.
His left hand comes up gently to cup at her throat, softly guiding the direction of their kiss, while the other wraps around her waist and he tries to ease her into a rhythm that will allow them to last. "Kate, love. Slow down, it's ok," he murmurs around her kiss.
But her lips are moving fast and feverous, nipping and pulling at his with unsatisfiable longing, her need suddenly demanding and intense. She breaks away, but only long enough to draw in a ragged breath and travel back down the powerful lines of his jugular where her lips fasten again to the base of his throat, licking and suckling at his throbbing pulse.
With a growl, he feels his control slip along with hers and roughly yanks their hips together for the contact they're both craving, releasing a shudder that rips through them simultaneously.
With the new pressure, her leg instantly rises as she tries to find purchase over the curve of his hip. She's clutching at his shoulders, climbing into him, anything she can do to press him closer to the ache between her thighs. Even through her jeans he can feel the damp heat radiating from her body, and he props his solid thigh against her core and rocks forward. She cries out at the sudden contact, her head curling into into his chest as her hips thrust back in response, and she stills, suddenly afraid to move again because, God, she is so turned on right now she knows and fears that even with the presence of their clothes, she could ride off on him and be there in seconds.
Castle holds them still, locking them in their embraced position. They are both panting heavily, his erection so painful he's starting to see stars. But he knows she needs a moment to breathe. She's over stimulated and she hasn't even come yet. There's a primal part of him that wants to push her to the edge…watch her break apart at his doing, but that will come soon enough, and with a shaky touch to his shoulder, he knows she's silently asking him to give her a moment to regain control.
There have been more than a few times in the past months during their discovery of one another where she's let go completely and allowed him see her come emotionally undone, trusting him entirely to catch her as she falls apart around him in the most primal way, raw and screaming as she shatters into a hundred tiny pieces beneath him. But he knows that kind of vulnerability still doesn't come easily for her, and so he doesn't push. He just thanks God for the woman he's holding in his arms and rubs gentle strokes up and down her back as he listens to her breathing, her forehead resting on his chest that's moving up and down in time with hers.
When her breathing has slowed, she looks up at him again with a new kind of wonderment, adoration pouring out from her eyes in waves and flooding every line on her face with unbridled emotion for somehow knowing what she needed.
"Ok?" She can hear the soft concern in his voice.
He's patient and waiting, and she nods silently as she feels tears start to push at the back of her eyes.
The connection is suddenly too much, too overwhelming and she feels panic creeping in, because she knows what she's feeling and wants desperately to tell him in that moment.
He watches as her throat constricts, struggling and fighting to push out the words, but his finger is on her lips, silencing her, reassuring her. He knows, she's not ready, and there's time. He's in no hurry, because the way she's looking at him right now is all the assurance he needs to know. The words will come in time.
His thumbs are silently stroking at the damp corners of her eyes as he waits. How did she get this lucky? She pushes up on to her toes to brush a kiss over his lips, this time more slowly and with as much love and promise as she can pour into the motion, trying instead to show him with her touches what she's still unable to put into words.
When they finally pull back, he stares at her with a quiet reverence, letting the moment settle around them. If there's anything the past four years have taught him, it's immense patience and the importance of not rushing through the small moments, to take joy in them as they come and never frown on the journey, because all the trials and tribulations they've faced together have brought them here, and in this moment, he wouldn't change a single thing.
Her eyes fill with a new wave of determination, dark and brimming again with want, and he can no longer hold back the urge to touch her. The pads of his fingers slip under her shirt, seeking out the softness of her abdomen. Her hands are working over his buttons with confident fingers, and she smiles when she finally is able to ease the material over his broad shoulders, his body, large and powerful hovering over hers.
He's not quite as graceful; the last few buttons of her shirt are popped, scattering across the hardwood floor, and he waggles his eyebrows to compensate for lack of style. A smile pulls at her mouth, lighting up her face with unbridled joy when she laughs, and he's back kissing her again, his fingers sliding in between the cup of her bra to palm and squeeze at her mounds. His lips follow soon after, shoving the material aside enough to wrap his lips around the peak, swirling and flicking at her tight, puckered flesh with the tip of his tongue.
She can feel the heat spreading across her chest like flames licking at her skin with each passing caress of his tongue, and her hands reach downwards, blindly fumbling with his button and zipper until she can reach in and pull him free, her fingers instantly curling around him, squeezing and stroking, trying to balance and give back to him the intense sensations he's stirring in her.
"Oh god, Kate…" His eyes slip shut, shaking from the way she's fisting him up and down, and he knows he will never last if she keeps it up.
Desperate to keep his wits, he focuses on getting his fingers between the hem of her pants and working them side to side until he's shoved them down around her legs. Her knees spread as far as the confines of the material will allow, and she's leaning forward, begging.
"Castle, please."
The ache in her voice is almost too much. His fingers float down over her ribs, soft, fluttering brushes with her skin that draws out a shiver of anticipation.
Her hands have all but stopped movement on his shaft, but it's probably for the best because her mouth has fallen open and she's panting in shallow breaths, a low whine escaping her throat as she cants forward, softly whimpering for him, and he doesn't think he's ever seen anything more beautiful than Kate Beckett open and wanting, begging for his touch.
Unable to keep her waiting anymore, he slides a thick finger through her folds, spreading her arousal up and over her nerves before circling his fingers back down and pushing into her.
"Jesus, Kate." She's so wet, and the heat of her burns at his skin.
His fingers move in tight circles, alternating in pressure and speed with a mastery of precision that she knows is unique to her and her alone. From the first night and every night since, he has watched her, looked to her for what she needed, studied the tiny changes in her breathing, the pull and bite of her lip as he stoked the fire within her, the furrow in her brow as he brought her to the edge, and the hitch in her breathing right before she shattered around him. And every time, his blue eyes watching her with such awe and reverence as if he were discovering her for the first time again.
He adds a second finger, not pausing to interrupt rhythm of gliding in and out of her, her arousal dripping hot and thick down over the back of his hand. He can feel her muscles fluttering and tightening, and he increases the pressure as he curls his fingers into her walls, whispering and encouraging, "You're so close, Kate. Come for me, please."
The deep vibrations of his longing breathed hotly over her ear unravels her from the inside out, and with one gentle roll of his thumb across her mound, she's shaking and falling, held up only by the circle of his embrace, his body protectively holding her to the wall as she comes undone in his arms.
Before she can finish riding out the waves of her first orgasm, his fingers are gone causing her to let out a whimper as she shifts forward, chasing after the loss, but they are quickly replaced as he slides into her, groaning at the heat and tightness of her walls that are still pulsing and clenching around him.
The way he fills and stretches her is indescribable and he's murmuring her name over and over again as he thrusts against the exquisite grip of her muscles.
Without warning, the sensations begin to build again and she cries out to him, a plea, "Oh God, Castle…I'm…again…" This time he's right there with her, his palms coming up to frame her face, eyes penetrating hers with every whisper and promise for her. Just her. He thrusts into her as deeply as he can, their hips rocking in unison against the wall, the sounds of their lovemaking filling the hall as they bring each other to the edge.
His strokes become shorter, quicker, until she's crying out, her arms wrapping around his chest as she clings to him, and he follows, choking out on the intensity of his orgasm, pulling her body up and into his arms as he spills into her, hips thrusting over and over again, her name the only word on his lips.
When his legs can no longer hold them up, he eases them down onto the steps, careful not to jostle her or drop her too hard. They're a tangled mess of limbs, still breathing erratically, but she's laughing, and he's smiling down at her with this incredible look of exhilaration at the feat they just accomplished. Still more than half-dressed and on the stairs, no less.
"Wow," she sighs, still grinning.
"Yeah…wow," he agrees.
He slowly pulls out of her and cradles her back to him so she can rest her head against his chest. They're silent for a spell while they allow their racing hearts to return to a normal pace.
"I can promise you one thing," he says at last, brushing a sweaty strand of hair away from her face and bringing his lips down to graze over hers.
"Hm?" The satisfaction is still singing through her veins.
"I've never done anything close to that on these stairs before." He chuckles and brings her fingers up to his lips, staring at her with such love and innocence that she knows his statement is not meant as a contest…just the sincere and reassuring truth.
"Good," she sighs, smiling and brushing her cheek alongside his.
Because it may not be a contest, and she may not be the first, but Kate Beckett has every intention of being the last woman to lay claim to Richard Castle's heart in this beautiful Hampton house.
So…Y/N? I might continue this to fill in other little blanks toward the end of the episode if people seem to like it. Like I said, first fic I've ever posted, so I really need your help here on constructive criticism and reviews because I don't really know what to expect! Thanks!
Also, I realized my mistake after the fact, but based on the shrubbery out the window, it appears the Hamptons master bedroom is actually on the ground floor. Oops? What IS it with Castle writers confusing fic writers with upstairs bedrooms? Lol Oh well. Hope you like it anyway.