Hey everybody. So, even though this is technically a one-shot, I guess I forgot to mark it complete, because I've had a request or two to keep it going as well as a few subscriptions to it. So, if you would like me to continue it, leave me a review asking me too. If I get enough, I'll continue it.
I don't own Castle. If I did, they would've been sleeping together for at least a year now xD
Enjoy!
Their hands lace together, and their fingers fit perfectly.
They both know where she's leading them when they pull away from the door. She bites her lip just a little, a nervous sort of way. But it's okay. Everything is okay.
The first time is fast, desperate—needy and rushing and they both climax in no time at all, sobbing in relief, everything building between them for four years finally out in the open, finally emptied as they carry each other through, down, down.
The second time is slower, sweeter, more about the journey than anything else. The world is not going to be yanked out from under them. They have time—time to savor, time to love. Time for him to suck gently on the skin at the base of her throat. Time for her to nibble the inside of his wrist, the pads of his fingers while his other hand is busy, maybe biting down a little harder than is necessary when he moves it a certain way.
Time.
Time for an after.
And both of them are thinking that the after is nearly as good as the thing itself.
He's behind her, holding her, one hand resting on her abdomen, his head in the cradle of her neck and shoulder. She's reaching back, stroking his hair.
They're quiet, listening to each other breathe as they rest, sated for the moment.
"Are you going to tell me what happened?" Castle asks, his voice raw, a little hoarse. He moves his mouth to the round knob of the vertebra at the top of her spine, starts to trace it slowly with his tongue, making her shiver.
"I already did," she murmurs, her own hand moving to cover his at her stomach, moving her thumb slowly back and forth, back and forth.
"I'm a writer," he grunts, moving up to that tender place where her ear hits the top of her jaw. "I like details."
She shivers as his tongue flicks into the delicate shell of her ear, warm, slow, sensual.
"Could you be more specific?"
"Fine." He curls his hand in a lock of her hair, still damp, soaking his soft pillowcase. "How did you get so wet?"
She rolls over, facing him. He has one hand on the small of her back now, one tangled in her hair. Holding her close, but there's still space between them, enough to look her in the eye. There's a reverence in his face that sends little waves of electricity through her body, makes her glow with the warm worship of his gaze.
"I went to the swings," she says finally. He nods. There's another question in his eye, a curious crease in his brow, but he doesn't voice it, expecting more, which she gives. "I…saw where you had been sitting next to me. It was filling up with rain. And I hated that it was empty. You…should've been there with me."
They fill him, her words. Make him warm, make him even more sated.
"Sleep," he tells her, softly.
"What?" she frowns.
"Sleep. You're tired. You—you almost—"
He can't bring himself to finish the statement. You almost died.
"I don't want to sleep," she whispers, but he can see it there, in those sweet, warm eyes. She's tired.
"Sleep, Beckett." His voice is gentle, quiet, coaxing. "I want you asleep in my bed. And I promise I'll be here when you wake up."
….
She does wake up.
The middle of the night, and she's falling.
Castle!
Beckett! Just hang on!
Castle!
Castle!
But this time there was no hand with a silver wedding band, no Ryan or Castle or anyone else pulling her up.
She lets out a shaky sob before she can stop herself, heart pounding. Kate struggles to catch her breath. Beside her, Castle stirs, turning to look at her with sweet, sleepy blue eyes. He sees the look on her face and they snap awake, worried.
"Kate?" he says, his voice hoarse. "What's wrong?"
She comes in to him, buries her face in the crook of his throat, her lips brushing the hollow between the two halves of his clavicle. He folds her into his arms, rubbing her back, full of wonder. She smells sweetly of rain and sweat and something feminine in a raw, sensual way that makes the hairs on the back of his neck prickle.
"You're scaring me, Kate," he persists, a little, nervous chuckle escaping him as she seals her lips against his skin, kissing her way along his neck slowly. She feels…relieved. Open.
Scared.
"Beckett." He cups her face, pulls her away from him, makes her look him in the eye. "What's going on?"
"I need you," she says simply. Her eyes flicker to his mouth. She wonders what he tastes like at three in the morning. Any different from the way he did before? She wants to know what he tastes like all the time.
She can tell he's about to speak again, make her talk, make her confess. And once she starts, she knows she won't be able to stop. So she pushes back on his shoulders, rolls him flat on his back, crouches over him on all fours.
"I've waited four years, Castle," she whispers huskily, her eyes roaming over him, noting that his own are growing steadily darker, drinking in her bareness as she hovers above him, lowering her hips slowly.
"Four years and you're in my bed," he growls, reaching up to grasp her hipbone, pull it flush against him.
"I'm in your bed," she agrees. And she sets out to investigate just how he tastes at this time of night.
...
Morning comes with light between the curtains, a sliver of sun slicing across his bed.
He's alone.
For a second he panics—panics at the absence of her warmth beside him, panics at the thought that maybe the whole thing was just a dream, or that she's left him. Again.
He sits bolt upright. "Kate," he calls out. "Kate!"
Then he notices the light beneath the bathroom door, hears the toilet flush, the water in the shower begin to run as she pokes her head out through the door.
"Geez, Castle, calm down," she says, crossing the room to perch on the bed next to him, give him a gentle, soothing kiss. "Good morning to you, too."
"You're naked," he blurts. She arches a perfect eyebrow.
"Most people shower naked, Castle," she tells him dryly, pulling away.
"Well, isn't that convenient," he answers, tossing off the covers, under which he is in a matching state of undress. "I seem to be ready for a shower, too!"
Beckett rolls her eyes and for a second he fears he's gone too far as she stands and walks toward the bathroom door, but she turns just as she reaches it.
"You coming, Castle?" she asks, smiling just a little.
He can't get out of bed fast enough.
A little while later, the hot water pouring down on them, her legs wrapped around his waist, his mouth worshipping her skin, her head tipped back against the tile, mouth open, little sounds coming from her throat that make him want her even more.
It's their after.
Every day will be their after.
Because last night—that was their beginning.
She hasn't said she loves him yet, but that's okay. She'll show him—every day—until she learns just how to tell him.
And every day after that, too.