A/N: Just a quick insert exploring the idea of what could have happened had Martha not shown up and committed the murder of Castle's mood.
"You know, once you clean that up, maybe we could go for a, um, round three."
Castle pauses with the cool flesh of the fresh melon against his fingertips, his head rising slowly at the enticing sound of his wife's voice, how wonderfully erotic the number three has become for them.
He glances up to the sight of the silk, the kimono-style robe sliding from her shoulders, catching at her wrists and swirling along the bare skin of her legs. His gaze stumbles over the glimpse of subtle pink lace flirting with the tops of her thighs, climbs up to witness the white fabric of the negligée rippling against her body with each movement.
"Wow," he murmurs, rising from the floor, ignoring the protest of his knees in favor of the exuberant smile shining through the tousled curls of her hair. "You do not have to tell me twice. Or should I say thrice?"
The dishrag and slices of melon fly from his fingers for a second time, Kate's hum of laughter buried in the side of his throat and her arms around his neck, holding fast as he sways with the impact of her embrace. He can't remember the last time she was so giddy, the past week injecting her with the joy of being back in their home, the relief of no more secrets between them or kept from those they care about, stealing all of the weight from her shoulders.
Her body lifts into him as she arches on her toes, the thin barrier of his t-shirt, her lingerie, all that stands between the crush of her breasts to his chest, the naked brush of her stomach to his that never fails to set his skin aflame. The silk caresses his fingertips as his hands glide down her spine, palms splaying at the curve of her ass and squeezing gently, eliciting a hum of approval as she cants into him.
She's so alight with it, glowing with happiness, that Castle bends his knees, hoists her into his arms and relishes in the pop of her laughter bursting through the empty loft.
"You love drunk, Beckett?" he teases, still amazed by this side to her, the once too strict, by the book detective whose smile he can feel against his skin, her body thrumming with a childlike glee she reserves for him alone and the leftover arousal from how he'd woken her this morning.
Kate's knees clamp at his hips, her upturned lips coasting upwards to smear along the apple of his cheek, dusting at the corner of his eye.
"Mm, maybe." She drapes the kimono at his shoulder, the soft fabric spilling down his side, not willing to let it hit the floor. "Maybe I just want to finish what you started earlier."
"If I recall correctly, you did finish," he muses, adjusting his grip so her legs can twine at his waist, her bare heels digging into his backside while her hips begin a lazy rhythm against his.
Castle had been the first to wake in the streaks of morning light peeking through the blinds, padding out of the bedroom to start her day off right with a fresh cup of coffee, taking his time to perfect the blend and create the subtle heart in the foam that always evoked that lovely little grin of hers.
Captain Beckett had to work today, but her first meeting wasn't until noon and that meant they had all morning to lounge around, share a late breakfast. And he'd had every intention of making her pancakes, complete with a fruit filled face, but well, she had shifted awake, rolling to her back at the scent of fresh coffee wafting from the nightstand. And when he'd crawled into bed beside her with his own cup in hand, Kate had reached for him, dragged him down for a kiss of appreciation before he could manage a sip from his mug, before her lashes could even flutter open to tangle with his.
He had been unable to resist abandoning the caffeine and easing away the sheet, trailing his lips down the length of her naked body until his head was between her thighs.
The coffees had gone cold.
"Please, babe, that was just a prelude to round three," she scoffs, the strap of her negligée stretching tight across her bicep as it slips from her shoulder, exposing the sculpted bone, the smooth expanse of uninterrupted skin in the golden spill of light into the loft.
He isn't sure what prompted the decision to dress in the simple piece of lingerie that caused her eyes to shimmer green and gold, illuminated the radiance of her smile and the rosy flush of her cheeks, made her look so soft and warm, but he's far from complaining.
Kate's fingers comb through his hair when he dips his lips to her shoulder, brushes a kiss to the rounded edge before he follows the path of her collarbone to touch his tongue to the hollow of her throat. Her skin trembles with the hum traveling up the column of her throat, her spine bowing as she instinctively curls towards him.
One of her arms maneuvers out from the strap of the lingerie, but he has no intentions of ridding the garment from her skin. Castle tilts his head upwards to seek her mouth, kissing her slow, teasing her lips open with the languid stroke of his tongue, feeling the playfulness begin to give way to the want that thrums beneath the surface of her skin.
Walking towards the kitchen, he does a poor job of paying attention, her back bumping into the nearest wall, the two of them wobbling a bit when her spine arches hard and Castle's balance wavers for a second. But Kate's legs cinch tight at his waist, using the leverage of the hard surface at her back – oh, shit, he'd backed her into the cool, stainless steel of the fridge – to steady them, only long enough to roll her hips with increasing insistence. She grinds against the length of him at her abdomen, twisting her hips and managing to hook her toes in the thin fabric of his pajama bottoms at the same time, tugging.
"Castle," she breathes, her head falling back against the refrigerator, the swells of her breasts rising with the heave of her chest, threatening to spill over the barrier of lace.
Her legs unfold from his hips after he's lowered one hand to the waistband of his pants, shoving the material down his legs and has spans his palms to the outsides of her thighs to hold her up. He squeezes the sinewy muscles, feels them flex beneath his fingers as her inner thighs bruise his hips.
Her hands toss the kimono still draped at his shoulder towards the closest countertop, nails clawing at his shirt, drawing the worn t-shirt up his torso and over his head. She laces her arms at his shoulders once his skin is bare, branding the fire of her mouth to the sensitive flesh beneath his jaw.
"Fuck," he grunts, locking his knees and rocking into the cradle of her hips when she chuckles into the roping tendons of his neck.
There's nothing between them when he inches the hem of the negligée up to the bones of her hips, his fingers coming into contact with the raw heat of her as soon as he grazes his hand between her legs.
Kate gasps at his jaw, her nails piercing the flesh between his shoulder blades and the hammer of her heart crashing against her ribs to rattle them both. "Already had your fingers. Want you."
The sound he buries against her mouth is a tie between a laugh and a moan, choked as it leaves his lips and stains hers. Castle sweeps his thumb to the swollen core of her, holds her through the jerk of her vertebrae, the jolt of her hips into his hand. She bites his bottom lip in retaliation, laves her tongue over the stinging flesh as he withdraws his fingers to guide himself to her entrance.
Her lips part against his, a contented exhale slipping into the air between them once the warmth of her body has embraced him, her inner muscles clenching, forcing him to take a deep breath, calm the storm of need that rushes through his system. It doesn't matter how many times they've done this, how many ways, she always makes it so easy to lose control, the urge to thrust into the welcoming heat of her never far. But Kate allows him a moment, her body relaxed against his, the movement of her hips languorous, unhurried.
"This is one of the things I missed most," she murmurs, her palm draping at his nape, her forehead resting at his cheek. "No sneaking in, no rush, just you and me. Like this."
He withdraws slowly, painfully slow for both of them, and glides back in, smears a breathless kiss to her temple at the soft cry she buries in his shoulder.
"You have no idea," he husks, following the dance of her hips, cradling her body tighter against his with each thrust, each noise of encouragement she lets free. "How glad I am to have you home."
The arc of her ribs expands against him and Castle coasts his hand from her thigh to feel the cresting rise of bones beneath his palm, the flimsy silk of the negligée no match for the scorch of her skin. She bites her lip to try and catch the whimper that escapes as he cups her breast, skates his lips along the slope of her flesh until his nose is nudging the lace from his path, mouth parting to coat the taut bud of her nipple with his breath.
"Rick," she mewls, her body writhing with impatience, patient enough for a rhythm of leisure, but apparently, unwilling to endure the torture of teasing.
He covers the tip of her breast with his mouth, swipes his tongue over her nipple, scrapes ever so lightly with his teeth. Kate's arms wrap around his head, her cheek sealed to his and her breath in his ear, gasping as he matches the cadence of his thrusts to the stroke of his tongue until she's on the verge of sensory overload, fisting her fingers in his hair to draw him away.
The burn of pleasure coils at the base of his spine, his legs beginning to tremble with exertion, and Castle sinks his teeth into the pliant skin between her neck and shoulder, tastes the flavor of sweat and arousal, savors the quiet sob of his name. The familiar bursts of starlight are sparking through his vision, the addicting crackle of electricity sizzling between them, spreading from the connection of their bodies, the tight seal of their chests, and fissuring from the surface of his scalp to the tips of his toes.
Kate squeezes her thighs, the channel of her body narrowing around him, tight and relentless. She shatters with the collision of their hips, the final caress of his hand to her exposed breast, and all of the stars explode.
He's distinctly aware of a shift happening despite the blur of his vision, the scenery around them changing, but even once his body is on the floor, all he can do is drop his head to Kate's shoulder and attempt to catch his breath.
It takes awhile and it isn't until Kate shivers, her body coiling in closer to his chest that he notices their new position, that she's still propped against the fridge with his weight blanketing her. Castle maneuvers them backwards, resting against the island and bending his knees to cradle his wife against him.
"Make your knees weak, Castle?"
The rasp of her voice, still dripping with sex, and the heat of her breath flowing from her lips to drench his scapula is too much for him, and he releases a huff that ruffles the layers of her hair.
"Told you I missed you."
Kate props her chin to his collarbone, opens her mouth at his neck. "A lot. So much lost free time to make up for."
She's in no rush, but with her knees on the floor and her body still fit so perfectly above him, she's allowed a dangerous advantage. The flint of an ember in the coal of her pupils, the devious smirk claiming her lips, confirms his assumption. He has no doubt in his mind that his wife is about to initiate round four on the kitchen floor.
"I am in total agreement, but first…" Castle lifts his arm, stretching behind him to feel along the granite surface of the island until his fingers encounter the cool slices of melon that had not met their demise earlier. "Brief intermission with some hydrating fruit."
He holds a slice of melon up to her, watches with a sigh as her lips close around the snack, juices dripping down her chin, wholly too erotic.
"You'll kill me," he mumbles, but doesn't deny the wet press of her lips, the succulent taste of fruit she stains to the roof of his mouth with her tongue.
"But I'll make it so good," she purrs, easing back to steady his wrist, taking another bite of the melon from his hand, and he's about to take his chances, his free hand already climbing the ladder of her vertebrae to curl in her hair, reclaim her mouth-
The buzz of her phone from the countertop cuts through his haze of need and Kate sighs in disappointment, growls a little when she returns her head to his shoulder for a second of respite before the precinct can drag her out the door.
"Could be the boys with a new case, want to join them?" she asks, sitting up in his lap, the sway of her body so not helping.
"Might as well. I may not be dead, but the hopes for round four are."
"Oh, I don't know about that, Castle," she grins, smearing a kiss to his lips before she moves to stand. "We still have tonight."