One time I wrote a series of tags. Then I decided to expand on them a little and wrote another 1500 words because I haven't written anything in over 2 months.
Hi.
He didn't mean to slam her up against the wall.
There are moments, especially when he's with her, that he doesn't remember how strong he is. After she sheds her armor for the day, once he finally gets to wrap his arms around her and hold her close, heels kicked somewhere near the bedroom door, he remembers just how tiny she is. She feels so small underneath his hands; Small, not weak. And while she can surely take him down with finesse and training, he's got his good old friend Size on his side and sometimes he forgets that.
Like when she tackles a grown man with heels on at the bottom of the steps, cuffing the suspect with a knee between his shoulder blades before Castle even gets to the platform, or when she slides her hands over the front of his pants when she passes him in front of the murder board after a successful interrogation. Or when she stands directly in front of him in the elevator and tilts her hips just like that so he brushes against her.
She's still high on it – the challenge of her job. She's still running on the adrenaline of the chase and the confession and she wants to ride it out for all its worth. He doesn't mind. So when she stood behind him as he was opening the front door, her arms wrapped around his middle, her teeth playing with his earlobe between chuckles and a smirk and a you know where to put it, right? when he can't get the key in the door as if he could ever fucking forget when it comes to Kate Beckett in his bed.
That's when he forgets.
Her head thuds loudly against the wood of the door and he'd stop and worry about her if she didn't use that momentum to surge back towards him, her hands clutching at his neck, angling his face to hers so she could do her worst. She presses herself upwards, hitches a bare leg up around his hip and how the hell did he not realize that she's already gotten her jeans off but he gets the message, quickly pulling her up against him so she can wrap herself around his waist, centers pressing deliciously against each other while she squirms in his arms, lace pressed against the wool.
He wants her – desperately, but he tries to move them. He hugs her closer to him, pulls his lips away from her because he's going to drop her if she keeps kissing him like that, biting back a smirk at the moan that she tries to cover once she feels how much he wants her through her underwear. He leaves her pants in front of the door, prays that he'll have enough time to get them before anyone else comes home because there is no way he's putting her down to grab more clothes. She's whispering dirty, filthy things into his ear and he nearly drops her on the couch to just get some form of release but he keeps himself moving even as she uses her words to literally blow his mind.
He makes it to the doorway of the bedroom when she roughly shoves her hand between where their hips are bumping against each other, gripping him through his slacks and he has to brace her against the doorframe to try and get a hold of himself.
"Shit, Kate."
She leans in and captures his lips again, her hands quickly working through the buttons of his shirt before he realizes that he should probably work on that, too. She's already not wearing pants and he's fully clothed and while that may be fun in the future he just wants to feel her skin against his right now so clothes have got to go. He rakes his nails down her legs, a silent order and her muscles clench, holding herself up against the doorframe as his hands let go and move to the buttons of her shirt. They take turns shrugging out of their shirts and then his hands are back on her, tweaking and cupping and teasing until she starts begging for more.
He trails a hand down her abs, watching the muscles shiver underneath her skin before he moves further down, his hand pushing her underwear aside to make sure she's ready to -
Oh fuck.
Her head falls back against the wall and he groans at the feel of her on his fingers, keeping one hand there as he works on his belt and lets his pants drop to the ground, whispering that she's going to kill him with how much he wants her.
He finally sinks inside of her, has hands flying to catch her as she arches completely off the wall towards his chest, her lips not leaving his even as he settles her spine back against the wood. He's already embarrassingly close and he hopes that she is, too, the entire moment built up for only release and he breaks his lips from hers as he continues, let's himself suck on the edge of her jaw for a moment before moving to look directly in her dark eyes, telling her to get there with him, the air barely getting into his lungs, the smell and sound of them making him lightheaded. She fights to keep her eyes open, lips parted as she looks back at him, face screwed up in ecstasy that only he could give her now.
He feels her hand move to touch herself and he reaches out on instinct, grabs her wrist between his fingers to hold her hand above her head, hoping she doesn't shoot him but still not letting go.
Her eyes darken, brows furrow, but then he thrusts even harder and she can't help the groan that bursts past her lips, the change making her back arch more fully against him.
So he grabs her other hand and holds it with the first one.
She bucks, tries to get her hands free and get some sort of leverage but her take a step closer to her, forcing her curves to slide even more deliciously against him every time he pushes into her and her legs .
She's strong, but he's got size on her, and he can hold her two wrists easily in one hand.
Once he's close enough, she breaks forward, covering the necessary inches so quickly he didn't even see it coming, her teeth biting down hard on his collarbone before she sucks on the ridge of it.
He grunts, can't help it, is glad that her legs are wrapped so tightly around his hips because his hand leaves the curve to touch her, wanting to make sure that she gets there first because he's so done.
He feels her cry out between her teeth, after only seconds of pressing his thumb against her, her orgasm shattering through her so fully that her legs lost purchase around his waist, and she would have fallen if he hadn't let go of her wrists, catching her so quickly he would have been impressed with himself if he wasn't tumbling over the edge right behind her.
After a moment, he feels her teeth leave his skin, her lips replacing them as she kisses him softly before forcing her head back up to kiss him properly, her legs re-tightening around his waist, letting her arms wrap around his neck as her lips find his again.
She kisses him sweetly, a secret thank you wrapped up inside that she never needs to give him, his mannish pride and complete adoration of her making it impossible to do anything but make sure every time is the best time for her, but he returns the kiss, his hands sliding along her skin.
The kiss slows and her fingers trail down to his collarbone and the angry red mark on it. She looks down, surveys the damage before she looks up at him, her eyes dancing with something that appeared to be apology but there's a little pride there too that she marked him and damn him if that dioesn't get him started all over again.
"I'm sorry," she murmurs.
He chuckles.
"No you're not."
She does't say anything but he watches her try to smother a smirk. He can't blame her because he's quite proud of it, too. There are worse things in life than a hickey from Kate Beckett.
He tightens his arms around her, though, and pushes them off the doorframe, his legs a little bit shakier than before but he gets them to their bed just fine, puts her down on the bedspread and eases her legs from around his waist as he starts to place kisses down her neck. She arches into him, her movements slow and languid as he paints a trail down her skin.
He moves along her shoulder and back down, letting his lips settle on her collarbone before he flashes his eyes up to hers.
"Don't worry," he says, lips never leaving her skin. He shifts slightly so he can keep looking at her, waits until she makes eye contact to let his teeth nip at the taut skin. She gasps and he smiles as he moves further down the bed, taking off the bra and underwear that she never made it out of.
"I like it."
For everyone who bitched (some rather rudely I may add)(few kindly so thank you)(almost all anon which I have A LOT of things to say about), I fixed the tense. That's what happens when you are your own editor.