All the Ways
He loves to watch her sleep.
Savors these rare moments where there is no alarm clock blaring, no phone ringing, startling them awake too early. The sun is barely rising; milky grey light spills in through the windows, skims along the white sheets, coats her skin in silver. He doesn't know what woke him so early but now that he is awake, he can't stop looking at her.
He turns on to his side, props his head up on his elbow as he takes her in.
She is sprawled out on her stomach, her arms flung out on either side of her head, one knee drawn up high. Her hair tumbles across the pillow, tangled and untamed, and her face is relaxed, peaceful in sleep.
He marvels at how different things are. Remembers how she used to curl in on herself when she was falling asleep, on her side with her knees drawn up to her chest, closed up, self-protective. How this is her favorite position when she sleeps now, stretched wide across the mattress, limbs flung out, body open and trusting.
Warmth suffuses him at the thought; he can't help but smile widely knowing that she feels free enough to be herself, realizing how she trusts him even in her most vulnerable moments.
His eyes wander across the expanse of her back, delving into the shadowy dips of her vertebrae and up along the peaks of her shoulder blades. They rise and fall, almost indiscernibly, with the steady deep rhythm of her breathing.
She sleeps naked, too. Just the sheet covering her when she is with him, and her body exuding such heat when she sleeps; he never would have expected such warmth from a person as slim as she is. Then again, everything about her is full of warmth, her smile, her touches, her compassion, her love.
She's got a corner of the sheet scrunched in her fist, as if to hold it securely over her, but instead it is only draped across her butt cheeks and one of her legs. The lines of her back are exposed, long and graceful, shimmery in the silver morning light.
He wants to trail his fingers along her spine, follow along the arch and valley down to the curve of her tailbone. Can practically feel the silky softness of her skin tickling the pads of his fingers, feel the tingle that races through his blood every time he touches her. But he won't wake her up; he does not want to disturb her when she is finally getting some much needed rest.
Instead he watches, drinks her in. His skin infused with warmth, latent pleasure thrumming inside of him, low and steady. Thinks, daydreams, marvels. About all the ways that he can touch her, inside and out.
All the ways that he loves her.
Her face is so lovely. Her lashes drape shadows across her high cheekbones, long and dark curtains even without the daytime coat of mascara. He loves the long smooth line of her nose, the subtle flair of her nostrils, and the minuscule, almost unnoticeable upwards tilt of the tip of her nose. He loves to place a kiss right there, and every time he does it she scrunches up her nose in that adorably girly way.
Her mouth has got to be one of the sexiest, loveliest things he's ever seen. Sometimes he hangs on every word she says, just to watch her mouth move. Her smiles make his heart stumble and his stomach flutter. One tilt of her lips and she goes from sweet to sexy and seductive in a flash, leaving him a quaking puddle at her feet.
But now her mouth is relaxed, slightly open against the pillow, her lips glistening. He grins, knowing she drools when she sleeps like that; she still gets a little embarrassed every time she notices it, but he just thinks it makes her even more adorable. More human, but never losing any of the perfect.
Her scent lifts off her body, sleep-warm and strong, is soaked into the pillows and sheets, permeates the air, warm cherry and cinnamon-sugar, like pie, leaving him warm and just on the brink of lazy arousal. He has long since discovered that her skin tastes like that too, and the memory of her flavor dances along his tongue.
He wants to trail his lips over her cheekbones and down the lines of her jaw. She will hiss air through her teeth when he grazes his teeth over the tender spot underneath her ear and along the tendon of her neck and then she will tilt her head, wordlessly asking for more.
His tongue trailing wet paths over her shoulder blades and down her spine will make her shiver, and when he skims his fingers around her ribcage, dips down to the curve of her waist, she will arch up high, her back a convex bow over the mattress. Or any other flat surface. She likes his mouth slipping against the back of her knees, and grazing over the tender skin that covers her hipbones, and she will squirm, lift her hips in seeking response.
Every day, every moment he is granted with her, he discovers something new, like an explorer across new lands, something unique and exciting, and it leaves him awed, forever rushing to catch up because she is the most precious, most amazing person he has ever met.
She shifts restlessly, mumbles in her sleep. He touches a palm to the expanse between her shoulder blades, letting his presence soak through her skin. Sometimes this calms her back to sleep, even carries her away from the verge of a nightmare.
But tonight she squirms under his touch; her eyelids flutter drowsily.
"Wha's matter, Baby?" She slurs her words against the pillow, still mostly asleep but becoming more aware of him. She relaxes her fist, lets go of the corner of the sheet and instead fumbles for his hand against her shoulder, dropping her palm on top of it.
He still feels a heated flush race through his veins every time she calls him 'baby.' It doesn't happen often but when she is drowsy with sleep, or high on the brink of arousal, the endearment slips out, uncontrolled, uncensored by her brain and it dips, heated and low into his abdomen.
"Nothing," he whispers calmly, scoots closer and presses a soft lingering kiss against the curve of her shoulder. "Just watching you."
"Hmm…" she hums and languidly flops over onto her side, her body front to front with his.
"S creepy, Castle," she murmurs, eyes still closed, a hand pressing against his pecs.
He lets her push him onto his back and then she climbs onto his chest, her ear just under his collarbone as she rests her head on him. He folds an arm around her shoulder blades as she snuggles into him, her arm flung wide across his torso, one leg drawn over his hips. Claiming him.
"Go back to sleep," she orders sleepily, and he smiles at the hint of detective voice that trembled in her words.
He pulls her tightly to him, drops a kiss on top of her head and inhales her sweet scent for a moment. It runs over him, the all-consuming rush of love, drenching him like a waterfall, powerful and knee-weakening, making his heart leap and his blood sing.
"I love you," he urges the words from his heart, up his throat and into her pores, needy and aching, always aching for her.
Her voice is sleepy, warm and sincere when she sighs against his skin.
"Love you too."
The End
I was given the wonderful opportunity to talk a little about fanfiction, my writing, and Castle in a 'Storming the Castle' podcast!
Check it out at stormingthecastle(dot)podomatic(dot)com(slash)entry(slash)2012-04-24T13_42_00-07_00