This is my first smut fic. I'm a little nervous.
They're staring at each other from across his bedroom. He's standing in the corner by the door, she's standing at the far end of the bed. Only one lamp is on, casting his bedroom in a peaceful glow, warming her more than her pumping blood is doing.
Neither one can take their eyes off the other. They both know what's about to happen, what's about to transpire between them for the first time ever. And it's that thought alone that has her heart racing, skin flushed, and breathing ragged.
The tension between them is thick, hot, murky, and intense. She has no idea who'll break first but she has a feeling it'll be her. All she wants is this delicious man on top of her, inside of her, touching her like no other man has.
She doesn't even remember how they ended up here, just glad they did. She's still in her work clothes, with her hair up in a messy bun. She does not feel sexy in the slightest. Her bra doesn't even match her underwear.
How did they end up here?
She doesn't even care anymore.
She bites her lip, waiting for a nod, an okay gesture, anything really! Because she just wants this man with her every fibre of her being. Not one part of her is saying "no" only "yes, yes, yes, fuck yes." 'Cause she's been waiting oh so long and now it's here. She won't let any inhibitions stop her.
Right when she's about to pounce, he speaks.
"Step out of your shoes."
She goes to speak but he stops her, repeats himself.
"Step out of your shoes Kate," he reiterates, his bedroom voice present, strong, and prominent. It starts a fluttering in her stomach, sends chills down her spine. She can't help but obey.
She steps out her heels, feels the loss of height instantly, and is suddenly worried about what he's planning to do to her.
"Your jacket. Take it off."
"He's not gonna touch her. Not until she's naked. He's planning to drive her crazy with want until she's just a puddle of desire. A mess for him to clean.
She can handle the anticipation as long as he doesn't make her wait too long. She doesn't know how long she'll be able to keep herself from begging.
Kate slowly slides off her jacket, lets it take it's time hitting the floor with a soft plush. She doesn't take her eyes off of his, finds she can't. He's like glue. The South Pole to her North. Magnetic.
"Unbutton your shirt, slowly."
If it wasn't for the trembling of his hands or the rapid rise and fall of his chest she would think he was unaffected. His voice gives nothing away.
She begins to unbutton the green shirt, looks down to see what's she's doing when he tells her to look back up at him.
"Look at me. Only at me."
And she does while he watches her. It shoots arousal straight to her core, pooling low, hot, and wet.
"Undo your pants," he says next.
She's hyperventilating now, unable to control her breathing, herself. She hopes he doesn't notice.
"Take off your pants now, Kate," he whispers trying to keep the urgency out of his voice. He balls his fists to keep himself from walking towards her and touching before she's ready. But God damn, she's so beautiful, so irresistible. He doesn't know how long he'll be able to resist her magnetic pull.
Her jeans are tight so she has to shimmy out of them and shit it's the sexiest thing he's ever seen.
She's in nothing but her bra and underwear now and he lets himself look. Her bra is white with black lining that forms a bow in the center. Her underwear is orange, like a peach. He's about to break.
He wants her.
God, he wants her so bad. He's having trouble hiding his arousal. He knows she can see it. Him. Alert and standing at attention, ready for her to trap him in her silky wet territory.
"Shake your hair out."
She takes the band out of her hair, pulls it around her wrist and lets her curls fall down around her shoulders. He wants more than anything to run his fingers through the tresses. Has for so long now.
"Lay on the bed."
She goes to get under the covers but he stops her, tells her to lay on top of the blanket, in the middle of the bed.
He walks to the other side of the room to cut the other lamp on, brighten the room. He wants to be able to see her, every inch, every magnificent inch.
She's sitting on the bed, holding herself up with her hands behind her. She tilts her head at him then, waiting. He stands in front of her, wraps a hand around an ankle and pushes.
"Spread your legs."
When she does he makes it a point not to touch her when he climbs between them. He levels his face with hers, pulls away when she tries to kiss him, and comes back to whisper sweetly in her ear.
"Lay down for me Katie."
She complies and he traces the lines of her arms with the tips of his fingers silently telling her to keep her hand stretched outward.
"Close your eyes," he breathes quietly to her.
He starts at the top of her head, pressing his lips lightly to her forehead. He smiled when she signs. He works his way down, taking his time, feeding off her ragged breathing. He kisses her temples, her cheeks, behind her ears, her nose, her chin, before finally aligning his mouth with hers. As soon as his lips touches hers she's a frenzied mess. Her hands at his neck, her legs wrapped around his waist. She's taking from him what she craves, what she desires, and he almost lets her.
"Kate," he yells breathing out of control, when he's finally able to break his mouth from hers. She's just as a wreck as he is.
He gently places his fingers over her eyelids to get her to close them again. He tells her to keep her arms stretched outward and legs open while he retreats from the bed.
He's making her listen while he undresses himself. But she isn't allowed to move, isn't allowed to see, isn't allowed to touch, to help.
It's killing her. This slow torture, the slow burn of the candle that he lit inside her. She can't take it. She's starting to squirm, clenching around air. Too tender. Too loving.
She hears the slow "click" of every tooth on his zipper. Hears the belt hit the floor, when he steps out his boxers. Then it goes quiet.
"Castle?" She says hardly hiding her state of arousal.
Then just like that he's back on top of her, inbetween her legs, but instead of clothes all she feels is skin. His skin. His glorious, silky skin. The weight of his body doing crazy things to hers.
"You can open your eyes, Kate."
He kisses her then, lets her run her fingers through his hair, down his back, over the curve of his ass. He runs a hand over her right boob, she has to bite her lip to keep from whimpering, and trails it down her side until she's arching up. Granting him access to the clasp of her bra. He drags it up her arms and tosses it onto the floor with the rest of their clothes.
Then he starts again. Kissing her lightly on the lips and working his way down to ravish her neck, but at his own leisurely pace.
He keeps on path down her collarbone to her chest. Peppering her with kisses, his lips like feathers blowing in the wind, causing her nipples to visibly harden, her skin to erupt in goosebumps, which makes her hyper aware of his every movement. Every flick of his wrist, undulation of his jaw driving her to the brink with need. He kisses each peak softly when all she wants is pressure before continuing his descent to the bottom of her naked body.
When she goes past her chest, down her ribs to her stomach her breathing gets erratic. Her inhales-gasps, exhales-just a huff. He's afraid she'll pass out if she doesn't breathe right. The rise and fall of her chest too quick for his liking.
He takes one of the hands fisted in the sheets and laces his fingers through hers for a moment.
"Shh Kate," he whispers caressing her cheek. "Shh. Breathe."
When she's breathing normal again he continues his descent. When he gets to her hips he hooks a finger in two places on her underwear and pulls. She lifts her hips to help him pull them down her endless legs. When she spreads her legs again all he can see is her glistening beauty. He can't stop himself from taking her right then.
Control is a thing of the past anyway.
But he has to stay strong. He wants to make it good for her. So good that she'll come back or if he's lucky never leave.
"Kate," he breathes when he's back between her legs, his voice flooded with desire. "Kate, Kate,Kate," he chants into her skin.
Oh God, she thinks, this is it.
He settles his hips against hers and she gets to feel him. Feel him. He's hot and thick, and throbbing. All for her.
"Oh Castle, please," she's begging now. She wants him inside her. She wraps her legs around his waist tightly this time while placing both hands on his ass. "Please."
She doesn't care that she's begging now. Let him see, let him see what he does to her. Let him see the mess he's turned her into.
He sticks a finger into her wetness, testing her, and she closes her eyes at the intrusion.
"Kate," he commands. "Kate, look at me."
When she opens her eyes all she sees is the blue of his. And then he's pushing his penis inside her and she can't stop herself from crying out. Her eyes slam shut, her face contorts from the immense pleasure at having him penetrate into her fully.
He gives her a minute to come back down but she doesn't want it. She starts grinding from beneath him, trying to make as much friction as she can.
"Castle, move." He starts pulling out of her slowly, achingly slow, drawing out the intensity of their bliss, causing more arousal to come raining down on him. He pushes back in, just as deliberate, driving her to the brink of oblivion.
She doesn't even realize she's the one mewling until he pushes his mouth to hers, cutting off her sounds.
He runs his mouth over hers just just as idle as he's pumping her. Kate feels as if her skin is melting. Everywhere he touches leaves a trail of fire, burning her deliciously, until she's just a puddle. It's almost sinful.
He's moving so languidly inside her that she can feel the outline of his head, every throb, every vein.
"Ahh! Oh god," she sobs when he picks up his pace.
"What's wrong?" He asked, worried. "Did I hurt you?"
"No! No. Just...do it again." She can hardly speak.
When he starts moving his hips again so his pelvic bone grazes her clit with every thrust, shooting bolts of electricity up her skin.
Oh yes. Fuck yes, Castle.
She can hardly contain her frustrated moans. Begging him, urging him to go faster, to let her come.
"Please-oh! Uhh god Rick," she exclaims through clenched teeth.
"Kate," he grunts out. He places his hand on her cheek, buries his face in her neck as he speeds up his thrusts. Pumping faster, harder.
She wraps her arms around him, digs her fingers into his back, her heels against his thighs. She bites down on his shoulder to suppress the waves of ecstasy ripping through her, crying out into his skin.
She can feel her release coming. It's tricking low in her abdomen, building up from her spine. It's gushing and boiling and teetering on the edge of her sanity.
She's on the brink or release, can feel it in the frantic clenching of her muscles, the spasms of her belly.
Oh god.
She's ready.
He pulls out just as she's about to come. But not to punish her. He wants to make it as good for her as possible. So he's prolonging her orgasm to intensify it when it does happen.
The sounds of protest she makes, makes him want to just push back into her and fuck her senseless. But he holds out, gives her a few moments to come back down.
It doesn't last long because before he can stop her she's flipping them and sinking back down into his shaft. He doesn't know his much longer he'll be able to hold out before coming.
He watches her as she bounces, hair a mess, chest going up and down up and down rapidly.
And then her mouth opens on a silent scream and her inner muscles are clenching him as tight as her hands and she's curling in on herself as her orgasm washes over her.
He's flipping them and pumping again before she finishes riding her orgasmic wave. Determined to make her come again. He thrusts faster and harder while his thumb runs her clit and she arching again in three minutes, this orgasm taking him with her. He clenches his butt and calls out her name as he spills his warmth into her.
She can't breathe.
She's breathing but no matter how much she inhales, no matter how much air she gets it's not enough. All she sees is stars and she's so weak she can't move. She's just a puddle of limbs in his bed.
"That was." She can't even speak. Too mindblown, incoherent to form thoughts nevermind sentences.
Oh, she just wants to close her eyes...
She's asleep before he knows it so he puts her under the blanket, turns out the lights and holds her while he drifts off into oblivion.
When he wakes up the next morning (afternoon) she's resting her head on her fist and smiling at him.
"Hey," he greets, voice heavy with sleep, husky.
"I called out of work," she says coyly. "Said I had the flu."
He smiles. "Why would you do that?"
"I think you know why," she laughs kissing him before straddling his hips. "Castle, last night-"
"I know." Smug bastard.
"I wanna do it again."
*hides in closet*