Set post Watershed and Pre Valkyrie. I don't consider this M I'm marking it as a hard T for minor sexual content!
His hands are tight at her waist, wrapping around her from behind. His fingers tug at the zip of her black leather jacket, even as he uses the other to push the key into the lock and they stumble through the door.
His mouth at her neck makes her shiver into him and push herself away, but his grip never loosens, her name rushing to meet her earlobe as he sucks it into his mouth. He crowds her, surrounds her, can't let her go and when her fingers push back into the spaces between his own and hold him close he growls, kissing over her cheek as she turns into him seeking his mouth. She's not letting go either.
They orbit in seeming slow motion, arms knotted, fingers tangled and bodies navigating each other with familiarity and confidence.
They spin, and though wrapped in each other, lost, unaware, sounds come at them in a cacophonous roar. His keys miss the table and clatter, hard metal to wooden floor boards and the door explodes on its hinges when it slams shut, the loud boom filling his home when they finally come face to face.
She's breathing hard, the ride here torturous as she fought in vain to keep her eyes on the road and not on her own hand cradling the wheel, sparkling in the afternoon sun with the diamond he put there.
She pants against his lips, traces his shoulders through his shirt pulling him closer, each breath brushing their mouths together in sweet swipes that make her eyes flutter, lashes dancing on his cheeks.
Her eyes flit to the stairs, dart back to his, her question unsaid in the thunderous crash of their heaving chests and matching heartbeats.
"We're alone." He breathes, his eyes on his fingers as they move to her jacket once more, the snick of the zippers teeth making her catch her breath before he's pushing the supple leather down her arms.
"Good." It bubbles up within her again, the relief and the happiness, the utter loss of terror that he wanted them to split up, it's all there, old and new and breaking her apart. Fledgling confidence in them suddenly singing through her veins and it propels her forwards, straight into his waiting arms and he lifts her as she climbs him.
Their mouths lock, connect and the sweetness of the park is gone replaced by a fierceness they haven't felt in a while, a passion for more that ripples through them both. Familiar yet different, the start of something, sparking white flame over skin that has felt frozen these last few days as they fought.
Lips and teeth and tongues collide, her arms snake around his neck, hands holding tight to his head as she groans and his fingers slide up and under her shirt, popping the clasp of her bra.
"Castle." Her mouth is full of him, of the smell, of the taste and feel that she loves, and she bites down on his lower lip, licks out across his jaw and, when his thumbs trace the underside of her breasts, she sinks her teeth into the hot, sweet curve of his throat.
They spin, like planets in alignment, moon and sun and stars that shift with each changing tide, a surge of progression towards his bedroom as her endless legs wrap around him, clench, contort and hold him tight.
He backs her into the wall, reaches down and yanks off her heels, pulls them awkwardly from behind him and each one lands with a boom as it hits the floor. With her pinned he has leverage, and he traps one hand above her head, feasts on her neck and licks a path fuelled by retaliation that ends at the swell of her lips.
Teeth nip and taste and kiss, endlessly kiss, an eternity in locking lips that they both deserve.
His thumb sweeps the front of her shirt, finds the puckering nipple underneath and with short, sharp caresses he brings it to life, feels it rise up to meet his touch, tweaks purposefully for her stuttered reaction.
She moans into the kiss, her heels digging into the backs of his thighs and he feels her start to slide, hoists her up higher and moves off from the wall, his stride strong and steps wide, desperate to get them into the his room, to get at her properly.
They spin again, circle, wrapped in each other and swirling towards the door, past the desk and into the darkened cavern of the bedroom.
She slides down the front of his body, her feet to the floor, and he reaches for her buttons as she claims his. Somehow she's quicker, more deft with those tiny fingers than he is and her hands are spanning his chest and mapping the contours of his abdomen before he's even reached the last hole.
He gives up, tugs her in close with a hand to the back of her neck, their eyes meeting for the briefest flash of awareness - like that first kiss in a pitch black alley so many years ago - and he kisses her so she knows he means it.
He wants more.
More than they are, more than they have been, more than either one of them has ever known, and starting right now they are going to strive for what they deserve.
Each other. Together. More. The words dance in his head and her hands roam his back, nails skim his shoulders and he lets her taste every little bit of it in his kiss, in the way he takes no prisoners, leaves her in no doubt and will accept no more excuses, all in or nothing at all. He loves her, can't imagine a second of his life without her.
Somehow she has his shirt off and that last damn button of hers won't pop. He rips it instead. He wants more. He deserves more and he wants to show her how much she deserves it too, this love they have it is spectacular, but they are still earning each other. She needs to see it, to believe like he does. And he will shred her clothes to get at her skin, to show her, to prove it to her, because it all starts tonight.
Her mouth pops apart from his when her buttons scatter, "Castle, what -?" But he swoops, removes the shirt slides the bra down her arms and reclaims her kiss, swallowing down her shocked breath and reprimands, reclaims that place in her life that should have never been in doubt.
To think he was breaking up with her, that he was too serious when all he wanted to do was show her, show her that he knew what they could be. Yes, he was serious, it burns in his kiss, because the thought of a life without her was terrifying. Nothing on earth could be more serious than that, that choice to make a stand, drop to bended knee and ask her to be his wife.
His partner for life.
She lifts a knee, curls her sock clad foot and threads it around his leg, tugging him in as she rolls her hips, lifts, and they clash together perfectly. A collision of "I told you so" and he wants to cry it at her, see, this, this is why we should be more.
The words don't leave his mouth, no need when touch can speak for him in the moment and the bare skin of her legs ripples under his fingers as he works her free of all material between them, sheds his own and pulls her to the bed.
She slides back, not on her side, not on his but right at the center, the very heart of the bed they share becoming her place of tormented rest. He follows, another silent plea beckoning him closer, her hand lifting and reaching for him as he crawls between her legs, lifts her knee to wrap it around his waist and claims the hand that bears his ring.
Her eyes burn and shine in equal measure, meeting his as he raises their joined fingers, turns her hand over and presses a hot, promise filled kiss into her palm. His tongue moves around the meaty flesh and tastes the salt that has already settled at the edge of the band. She jerks when the tip slides between her fingers and he kisses her hand again, right over the diamond of the ring she will never not be wearing.
He teases his fingers between her own, brings her hand down between them and uses their threaded together digits to touch and test and pry her apart, watching her eyes widen, her lips open on a sigh and her expression soften, her cheeks flush.
The band of the ring bites into her skin and the diamond presses into his palm and the pads of their fingers move together, slide wet and slippery against her before he pushes her hand away and lets his thumbs drift, coasting over her thighs.
"Castle, more." She murmurs, her palms hot as they caress his biceps, curve over his shoulders and frame his face. She pulls him down into a brutal kiss, arousal painted on her skin, in the air between them, thick like syrup and honey where they touch.
She opens to him, for him and yes, more, more is the only option left. More, because they are never letting go.
His hands land on her thighs driving them apart, spreading her, pulling her in when he arches his back, driving forwards as she does the same. Her ankles at the base of his spine lock and he slides inside her as his name breaks from her lips. One word echoing around the room before their bodies begin to move as one.
"More!"
Naked and wrapped up in his sheets, smelling like them is probably one of her favorite things, one of the others is nestled snugly on her finger as she stares at it, and yet another is stretched out next to her in the bed. "It's big."
She rolls over him, lands on top and lets her clasped hands fall over his chest, her wrists supporting the weight of her chin. She stares up at him, her fingers aching to reach out and trace his jaw.
"I keep telling you, it's your remarkably tiny fingers." He grins, puffs out a sated breath and strokes a hand down the side of her head, "They make everything look bigger!"
She wiggles, one hand drifting until her fingers curl between them and he groans. Kate smiles sweetly, almost innocently when she leans down, pressing the weight of her body into him. "I don't think you need help looking bigger."
She stays that way for a few seconds, idle hands caressing lazily until she winks and clicks her teeth, a tease and a laugh pressed flush to his open lips as a burst of male pride simmers hotly under his skin.
Their eyes hold for a long moment that stretches out, seems endless and rages on like the blaze of fire that burns between them. It crackles and sparks, shoots flares between locking pupils and an amber glow across skin so closely wound it belongs not to either of them, but to both.
"I want more."
"Me too." She moves to kiss him again, her hands at his shoulders to hold herself up but he catches her, tilts her head in the palm of his hand and holds her away, makes her focus on him and freezes her in the moment.
"Kate, I love you."
His tone is serious again, back to bended knee and her heart in a thundering gallop of panic and fear and wonder and relief.
"I love you, Kate."
His fingers drift at her ears, trace the lobe and her cheek and her hands move, her knees landing either side of his hips when her hands frame his face. The ring right there on his cheek and she sighs, sighs like she did when she said yes, "I love you too."
He breathes fiercely "I want to say it more, I want to hear the words as they leave my lips, Kate. I want to be able to tell you -"
She nods, silencing him, feels her eyes burning hotly, and she wonders how she could have ever doubted him. Now, now when things are clearer, good and whole between them, that time of confusion and worry feels like an existence lived looking through someone elses eyes.
How could she not have seen this wonderful man, how could she have questioned him? This serious, kindhearted, fragile man who loves her with his whole heart like it's the easier and hardest thing he has ever done.
"I want that." She presses into his lips, her voice a stuttered choke of emotion, and when their eyes meet he looks deeply and sees the truth, all that she hides away, "God, I do, I love you and I want that too. I want to hear it and say it, Castle." She swallows thickly, a sob caught at the back of her throat, they can do this. "More."
"Everything." His eyes still burn into hers, pressing, pushing, still scratching, still clawing for inches that are already his.
"Yes, yes everything." Her eyelashes feel wet, and she blinks, wants to see him clearly, not the blurry shimmer.
"No more tentative."
"No." It's a quiet whisper.
"No more half hearted."
"No."
His tone drops, eyes widen, and he holds her tighter, "No more lies." Aimed at her, "No more avoidance." Aimed at himself.
She shakes her head unable to get at the words to express how much this is exactly what she needed to hear from him. How stupid she feels to realize that he needed to hear it from her just as much, that she needed to meet him halfway.
"No, no more." Her voice breaks again, and she thought taking that first leap with him was diving in, until she found herself where she always ended up, one foot out the door and her own protective hands clasped too tightly around her heart. But no, more, he deserves the person she knows she can be if she just lets herself, so she'll dive again, this time all in. He'll get the best of her, everything she has to give, "I love you, so much."
His eyes close, open slowly, and the blue within no longer wavers like waves drifting over troubled shores, no storm tossed seas just peace, and love. "And we need to talk more."
She laughs, a ridiculous, tiny sound as she traces his lip with her thumb. "Yes." She wants the words too, the back and forth, the give and take. Them.
"We're going to be apart, a lot."
She searches his eyes but there is no judgement, no accusation, just truth.
"We need to talk, on the phone, Skype, whatever we have to." He blinks and his own eyes roam her face, "We talk."
She nods again, the burn in her eyes suddenly feels like acid. This is going to be harder than she ever imagined.
"Yes, everyday." She catches the flicker of shock so she says it again, "Everyday Castle, even if it's for ten seconds as I'm running out the door, or you're walking into a meeting. Everyday to say good morning, or good night." She blinks, feels tears land hot and wet on cheeks before he thumbs them aside. "I want to hear your voice. Everyday."
He surges up and kisses her, engulfs her, rolls her so she's under him on the bed, panting and peering up through tear stained lashes.
"Everyday." He agrees, smiling and kissing her lips around each word, "We deserve more Kate, we deserve the best of each other."
"We do." She chases another kiss, bites at the air between them.
"We talk everyday." He says it again, smiling at her suggestion and she smiles back, pulling him down, stealing her kiss. "About everything."
"And anything." He kisses her eyelids, her cheek, the tip of her nose, "And I'll respect your job.
She laughs against his lips, strokes his face again and again, "Be a first."
He catches her wrists, this serious man that she is so in awe of, so gut-wrenchingly in love with, and he pulls her close once more, "I'll keep my distance when you tell me you're busy and the minute you're not, I'll fly out."
She nods, swallows past the lump in her throat and lets his belief wash over her, only to find it meeting her own as it mounts and grows, swells up through her chest, propelled by her heart, "I'll fly back."
"We'll meet in the middle."
"We'll make plans."
"You'll cancel." He states, speaking again before she can contradict him, "And so will I." He smiles, softly. "And it will be okay."
She breathes through it, lets it fill her up, the knowledge that they can do this, the ability at their fingertips, "We'll make up for it when we do see each other."
"We can do this." His grip tightens and she knows he understands, that she gets it, that they need to be better with each other, more open, more honest, just more.
"We'll be what we deserve." She fights to keep her voice steady as she speaks the words, lets them rush hotly against his lips, their noses brushing, sheet cast aside and foreheads touching.
"We'll be more than that." His hands at her neck gather her hair, hold her like no other and he kisses her with shared knowledge and belief, "We'll be great."