AN: Set post 4x21 "Headhunters." Contains one small (intentionally very vague) spoiler for 4x22 "Undead Again" – I think even the spoiler-free folks among you should be fine reading this.
All the angst floating around made me do this. Oh, and Sexy Sheep and Ann over on Twitter. That is all.
Set the World on Fire
She didn't expect it to be like this.
Maybe she should have. Three years. So much time. So much waiting, wanting, aching.
Too long for it not to come to this.
He pushes into her on one long, deep stroke, his hands wrapped around her thighs, spreading her legs wide for him and she groans, arches off the desk, her shoulder blades connecting harshly with the hard wooden surface underneath her.
He stills.
She can't move, can't breathe, only clench around him, keeping him tightly within her.
Oh God.
Earlier…
She's had it. This was the third comment he's made to other people today where he alluded that he will remember something fondly. As if he won't be back. As if he's leaving.
Leaving her.
She's had enough of this. Smiling at him doesn't work, trying to talk to him doesn't work because he just won't listen to her!
She marches toward where he is joking with Ryan, reminiscing about old times and that is the last straw, he won't get to bail on her like that, not without her having her say.
She grabs his wrist, wraps her fingers tightly around and tugs.
"We need to talk," she presses the words through her teeth and he looks at her, eyes darkening defiantly. His mouth opens on a response and she cuts him off, her voice allowing no further argument.
"Now!" And she marches toward an interrogation room, one without windows, and pulls him with her. Surprisingly, he falls into step behind her and so she pulls him into the room, then turns to lock the door behind them. Locking them in.
She turns around, faces him. He looks defiant, almost mocking, an eyebrow raised in question. "What do you want to talk about, Beckett?"
It stings, the way he says her name now, none of the reverence left that he used to have for her and she still doesn't know what happened, when did she lose him? Why?
She's had it; she's come to hate that self-righteous attitude.
Kate crowds against him, pushes her hands against his shoulder blades and he stumbles backwards until his back is against the wall and he can go no further.
"You don't get to do this," she glares at him, hisses the words through her teeth. She pokes her finger into his shoulder, hard, and he winces.
"You don't get to leave like that!" Leave me, she wants to add but the thought clogs her throat, leaves her sad and vulnerable and so she swallows it down, fights against it but it's too late; the sadness is cloying, overpowers her anger, makes her eyes well up. She gulps, her hands drop off his shoulders, down to her side.
"Why are you leaving?" She tries to school her features, she can handle this, she tries to tell herself, she can handle it.
She channels her strength but her voice still sounds wobbly, and she clenches her fists, hates that too.
"What happened to 'always'?"
His eyes darken, glimmer at her and suddenly he whips her around, now it's her back against the wall and he crowds against her front, and his body is so close that she can feel the heat radiating off his skin.
"What does it matter when you don't want me?" He growls and there's such pain in his voice that it's like a fist punched against her chest, taking her breath.
Why- She just… She can barely breathe. She doesn't get it. Yes they've been waiting, but she's smiled at him, and touched him, and teased him, and he's been there and- doesn't he know? Why doesn't he know?
He breathes heavily, his eyes hooded, pained and she claws for words, can't figure out what to say so he will believe her; words are his thing, not hers, she's a doer and she has to- Do.
She pushes her hips off the wall, against his so he moves a step back, creating some space between their bodies. His eyes connect with hers, the sense of rejection dimming their spark but she holds his eyes with hers.
Her blood rushes in her ears as she reaches for the waistband of her jeans, flips open the button, then undoes the zipper. The mechanical rasp of its teeth reverberates loudly between them and he gulps, stares at her.
She's so nervous she can barely stop her hands from shaking but she's ready, ready to do something, ready for him. She grabs his hand, pulls it toward her. Breathing heavily, she cradles his palm against her stomach, biting into her bottom lip at the heated contact of his skin against hers. Then she slowly moves his hand lower, presses it underneath the waistband of her pants, beneath her panties.
With her palm resting on the back of his hand, she pushes his hand further south, until his fingers slip between her folds; she hisses at the contact and he groans, dark and needy when his fingers slither along the heated wetness of her body.
"Does this feel like I don't want you?" She whispers close to his ear, pushing against his touch so he can feel her, feel how wet she is, for him, because of him.
He drops his forehead into the cradle of her neck and his breaths are leaping from his chest, his heart beating loudly against hers as he adjusts his hand, adds pressure against her pelvis where she needs it most and she shivers against him.
"I've wanted you forever," she groans, shifts her hips so that the tip of his finger slips inside of her. He shudders against her, grinds out her name.
"Kate," his voice raw, desperate, and then he thrusts his finger deeper into her body and she flutters around him.
Lifting his head, Castle stares at her, his gaze dark, questioning as his breath bursts heatedly against her mouth.
She reaches a hand up to his face, wraps her fingers around his chin, her grip digging into his jaw.
"Take me home," she orders, shimmying her hips against his hand, groans on an escaping breath. "Take me home now."
They sit apart during the entire cab ride, crowded against the opposite doors of the car, the silence between them heavy, expectant and she stares out the window, her thoughts racing as fast as the world flying by outside the window. She nibbles her nail, doesn't know what to say, what to do.
Oh god what has she done?
In the elevator she leans into a corner, glances over to him from the side. His face is closed off and she can almost hear him thinking within the enclosed space. Her stomach contracts.
She's missed him, so much. Misses him.
Reaching out, she glances her knuckles against the back of his hand. He turns toward her, stares for an infinite moment, silent, intense, and her heart thumps against her ribcage almost painfully. But then he curls his index finger around hers, a low warm smile spreading over his face as he tugs her closer, and she tumbles against his side, leans into his shoulder as he walks her to his door.
As soon as the door to his loft slams closed behind them, he's got her pushed against it, crowding into her body, a knee wedged between her thighs and she curls her arms tightly around his neck, pulls herself even closer, breathing him in. Her heart is leaping, her skin on fire and she can't stop staring at his mouth.
His eyes are hooded as he looks at her, his chest heaving rapidly and after all this he still hasn't kissed her, and- why hasn't he kissed her? Her stomach contracts, spreading a shivering ache through her limbs and she instinctively clenches her thighs around his leg and if he doesn't kiss her, right now, she swears to god...
She licks her bottom lip, her eyelids flutter, his name slipping off her lips. "Rick…"
And he leaps forward, cradles her head with his hands, one large palm on each of her cheeks, tilts her face up and then his mouth is on hers, hot, frantic, demanding, drawing her into him. His tongue delves inside, seeking, exploring and she meets his every foray, can't do anything but fall into his kiss; heat rushes south and she whimpers into his mouth, snakes a leg up around his hips, frenziedly rocking her pelvis against his thigh.
He groans, grabs his hands around her butt cheeks and pulls her up in a swift motion; she clamps her legs around his waist, her middle connecting with his, where he is rising hard against her and she whimpers in anticipation, sucks his tongue deeper into her mouth.
He stumbles blindly through his loft with her clinging to him, his lips on her, and they bump into the couch, a vase falls off an end table as he trips over its leg and almost loses his balance. They barely make it to his study where he deposits her on his desk, sweeps everything off the surface in one fell swoop; she giggles and he swallows her laughter into his mouth once more.
Her clothes fly off in quick succession; she tears open the buttons on his shirt while he fumbles with the clasp of her bra; he throws it somewhere and then leaps forward, wraps his mouth around her breast and sucks her nipple into his mouth, squeezes the other between his fingertips and she moans, arches into his touch, the sensations deep, shooting heat low into her abdomen.
And then finally, finally they are gloriously naked, and his hands are frenzied as they climb up along her inner thighs, teasing her legs open.
He pushes into her on one long, deep stroke, his hands wrapped around her thighs, spreading her legs wide for him and she groans, arches off the desk, her shoulder blades connecting harshly with the hard wooden surface underneath her.
He stills.
He's deep, so deep within her and she whimpers, desperately searches for purchase, claws her fingers into his shoulders. He stays still within her body, holds her hips tightly to him as he fills her and her muscles flutter, clench around him. He groans, a sound so dark and desperate that it shimmies through her body like a shockwave.
She pries open her eyes, looks at him and his eyes are hooded, dark glimmering sapphires staring back at her, into her, seeing her, seeing everything.
She gasps, wiggles, aching for him to move, but he stays still, immovable as he holds their bodies connected, and it washes over her like a tidal wave, all that he's been holding in for weeks now, an overpowering rush of emotions so strong that her breath catches in her chest. Hurt, disappointment, anger, sadness, pain, want, need, desperation, desire. Love. Oh- love.
She can't move, can't breathe, only clench around him, keeping him tightly within her.
Oh God.
"Marry me," he growls and then he finally moves, pulling almost entirely out of her before he rushes back in.
"Wha- what?" She arches, whimpers.
"Marry me," he repeats on a dark groan, pushes two fingers onto her nerves, pressing slow circles against her.
She shivers, can barely think; circles her hips into him, seeking more.
"That's… insane," she moans.
He moves again, one long stroke out, then slams back inside of her.
"Always, Kate," he moans, leaning further into her as her muscles clench around him.
"This is it," his fingertips slip in circles over her nerves.
"One and done, right?" He urges darkly, insistent as he presses his fingers against her, his body into her.
He keeps her in place, only circles his hips, almost imperceptible, and the small movements shimmy tightly through her body.
"Marry me."
Oh god, she keens out sounds as she moves against him, can't think, shivers, her body no longer under her control as he joins them, makes her his, as they become one.
Digging her hels into his back, her fingers clenched around his forearms, she urges him to move, more, more, God please more.
And so he moves, in and out, establishes a fast rhythm that grazes her sensitized nerves on every stroke and sensations slam through her; she digs her nails into the skin of his arm, tries to hold on, and oh yes, she wants this, oh how she wants this, yes. Has never wanted anything as much.
"Yes," she pushes out the words on a deep groan, clinging tightly to him, "I'll marry you." Moans, giggles happily, excitedly hiccups the words. "Yes."
And then she falls apart, fast and explosive, her body a quivering mass in his arms as she screams, sees bright light, her yes still on her lips.
"Do you love me?" He asks later, as he lies sprawled out on his stomach across the bed, and she is collapsed on top of him, her breasts pressed flat against his back and her cheek lying between his shoulder blades.
His voice is whispered into the pillow, more insecure than she's ever heard him before. It squeezes her insides, clogs her throat. She lifts her head.
"Yes," she promises decisively, and softly kisses the top of his spine. Her heart beats forcefully against her ribcage; she wonders if he can feel it through his skin.
She runs her fingers up and down his arm and he shivers under her touch.
"Did you mean it?" She wonders quietly.
"Yes." He shifts underneath her; she scoots to lie next to him and he turns toward her, runs his fingers through her hair, cradles her head.
"Did you?"
She smiles at him, can't stop her eyes from welling up. "Yes," she whispers.
He pulls her close, kisses her, soft and longingly; murmurs against her lips.
"Always."
The End