Prompt: "5x01 Episode insert for their second night together in Kate's apartment. I can't quite decide for my personal head cannon whether it would be a night of comfort and holding or if they'd make love."
"Let me take you someplace, Kate. Someplace you'll be safe."
Beckett sighs out a small humorless laugh and drops her forehead to Castle's chest, closing her eyes against the weight of emotion.
His arms come up and fold around her, warm and strong; the quiet thump of his heartbeat against her ear wants to soothe her. It's not fair, she thinks, suddenly feeling a rush of regret for all the times she denied herself this protective embrace ... all the times she denied this man. All the times she could have let herself sink into his arms and be comforted, reassured. Now it's too late.
"I'll never be safe," she murmurs bleakly, low enough that she thinks he won't have heard. He does, of course. The pained hitch in his breathing tells her as much, but he doesn't respond in words. He just holds her, resting his chin on the top of her head, enveloping her like a fortress that she wishes she could believe in.
After a moment, she lifts her head from his chest and looks up into his eyes, a small frown creasing her forehead.
"You didn't really mean that?" she asks hesitantly. "Take me somewhere - go away together? You'd do that?"
Surprise washes over his face. "Of course," he says like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "If disappearing off the grid is what it would take to throw Bracken off your trail, then yeah."
"Castle..." She blinks at him, open-mouthed.
"It wouldn't be forever," he goes on, calm and determined, like he has already thought this through. "Just long enough for things to cool down, and for us to get our bearings. Come up with a new strategy." He pauses, studying her expression. "We can do this, Kate. We'll figure out a way. We'll bring him down."
"But your family, your-" Almost instinctively, she's pulling back from him, out of the haven of his arms. He loosens his hold, but doesn't let go. "You have a whole life here, Castle. You can't just leave it."
"Kate, I - you -" He's the one frowning now, his eyes worrying at her face. "My mother is a grown woman; she can take care of herself. Alexis is about to start college, and she isn't going to want me hovering. I can - I can hover from afar." He flashes a quick rueful smile. "They'll be fine. And as for the rest of it, I don't care." He shrugs it all away. "None of it means anything without you."
She steps back, again, and this time he lets her go, dropping his arms to his sides. He keeps his eyes steady on her, and she searches his face, aghast. Her spine feels like ice, cold and heavy, dragging her down under the weight of disbelief at what he's suggesting.
"Castle, I couldn't ask you to - We've only been together for a day," she protests, her voice quavering.
"Kate, we've been together for four years," he contradicts, and before she can object, "I know that's not what you meant. But seriously..." The crease between his eyebrows deepens with the force of his emotion, his need for her to hear him. "We're in this. We're partners, we're..." a helpless gesture with his hand, "so much more than partners. Where you go, I go. I'm a mo-" He catches himself, quickly rephrases: "A compass. I'm a compass, and you're my north. I can only point to you."
A moth to the flame, she thinks; that's what he almost said, before he stopped himself. She can't escape the dread that fills her at the thought, because she is the flame, and if he gets too close - when he gets too close - she'll burn him up.
Without even quite realizing it, she has taken another step backward, increasing the distance between them - some part of her already trying to separate. "Maybe I should disappear," she muses aloud, her eyes lowering mournfully toward the floor. "Just me. Go to ground and let the whole thing blow over. Everyone would be safer that way."
"Just you?" he repeats, and she lifts her gaze in time to see horror and despair wash across him. "Kate, no. No." He surges forward, eliminating the space between them faster than she created it; his hands seize her arms, gripping like he can anchor her to him. "Don't give up on us already," he pleads.
"I'm not," she gasps, lifting her own hand to his cheek. It's all new and raw, this freedom to touch him, after being so careful for so long. Her fingertips drift across his face, savoring the rasp of his late-night stubble and the softness of the skin underneath. "I'm not. I want - I want this, Rick. I want us. But I'm putting you in danger." Her hand falls from his face, lands on his chest, as if preparing to push him away. "No one knows about us yet - I could leave and you'd be safe. They wouldn't come after you. It's only me they want."
"No," he says again, and presses her backward, until her shoulders hit the wall behind her and he crowds her against it with his body, caging her in. "You can't. Don't do this to me. Promise me you won't."
His eyes are stormy, and she hates seeing how broken he is by the very thought that she might disappear on him (again, her treacherous mind whispers). Tears spring to her own eyes and she blinks to force them back. It seems like no matter what she does, somehow she always manages to hurt him.
"They'll kill you," she whispers thickly. "They'll kill us both and it'll be all my fault."
"They're not going to kill anyone," he declares vehemently, his jaw set. "We're going to figure this out. Together."
She takes a deep breath and fights to restrain another wave of tears. She wishes she could share his confidence. Soak it up by osmosis, by touch.
With that thought it hits her all over again, the breathtaking fact that touching each other is a thing they do now. She broke through her walls yesterday and now she can touch Castle, kiss Castle. The memory sends a jolt through her and in the next heartbeat she's acting on it: she's up on her toes, her hand around his neck pulling him down to her. She presses her mouth to his and a thrill goes through her whole body, an aching, tingling pulse of need and delight at finally, finally being able to do these things she had dreamt of for so long.
He groans against her lips, his kiss hard and desperate, and she grips the back of his neck more tightly, her fingers digging into his skin. The same way his fingers are clenching around her biceps, but now they slide downward, his broad palms fastening around her hips and pulling her roughly against him. She gasps at the sensation of their hipbones clashing, the hard press of his thighs against hers. His tongue delves into her mouth, his teeth nipping at her upper lip, and they're both panting, harsh breaths filling the air.
"Promise," he demands, his hands moving boldly underneath her shirt, skimming her ribs, palming her breasts roughly through the fabric of her bra. "Promise you won't go into hiding without me."
Her body is on fire, thrumming with need, though she still can't ignore the fear that has been licking at her bones all day. But she forces herself to remember the choices she made, the things she vowed to herself while her feet dangled in midair yesterday. Not to waste any more time. Not to let Castle go on thinking she doesn't want him, because god, she does. She does.
"I promise," she chokes out, the words ending in a near-shriek when his teeth scrape along the tender skin behind her ear. "Partners."
"Partners," he repeats, the word vibrating against her collarbone, deep and gravelly with desire, sending a fierce shudder through her. The passion in his voice is an echo of her own.
"Castle," she moans, arching into his hands, his mouth. The wet slide of his tongue across her neck. The velvet-over-steel strength of his broad shoulders under her hands, the heavy bulge in his pants pressing against her lower belly. She can't get enough of it all. Can't believe that after all this time, she gets to have him.
Needs to have him. Now.
Almost exactly twenty-four hours ago, she took him by the hand and led him to his own bedroom, and they made love for the first time. And the second, and the third. It was at times quiet and reverent, hard and fast and eager, slow and gentle. Every moment of it was perfect, beautiful, infused throughout with a hum of finally, finally, finally that Beckett is certain they both felt. Their joining was joyous.
Now, tonight, she again takes him by the hand, and she leads him to her bedroom for the first time. But tonight there is no overwhelming relief binding them together with tender smiles and soft slow kisses and leisurely caresses. Tonight there is only desperation, hunger, and an anguished need to be melded together, as close as humanly possible.
They cling to each other as they make their way down the short hallway. She cups her hand to his cheek and walks backward, the fingers of her other hand tangled with his between their bodies. His other arm is a steel band around her waist, still tethering her to him, as if she would even dream of trying to separate at this point. Their mouths meet and release and meet again, urgency in the swipes of their tongues. They stumble into the bedroom and fall onto the bed together, tugging at clothing with hands made clumsy by passion.
"Don't ever," Castle mutters against her ribs, licking hot stripes across her stomach while his hands are busy unfastening and disposing of her bra. She arches up off the bed, moaning, pressing herself against his mouth. "Don't ever," he says again, and she shakes her head, breathless, her hair whispering across the pillow.
"I won't," she promises, "I swear I won't, oh god, Castle," as he takes a nipple in his mouth and tugs, hard. A high whine bursts free and she writhes on the bed, reaching for him and finding fabric, pulling the shirt free from his shoulders so she can grip him, muscles rippling under her palms.
He tugs off her pants, and now she's naked except for her underwear. He kneels above her, just looking down at her. She stares back up at him, her eyes greedy as they roam his beloved face, his broad torso, his strong arms. She drinks him in, loving him with her gaze, and he does the same in return.
Their eyes meet and a thousand things are said between them with that look.
She still feels the hopelessness of the situation, expecting another attack at any moment, but Castle, somehow, still has his confidence; he has hope, maybe enough for both of them.
He bends down and smears his mouth across hers, and then his hands are on her body, flipping her over, pulling off her panties. She gasps as her bare stomach and breasts meet the rough weave of the duvet. Castle sweeps her hair off the back of her neck and kisses it, mouth open, teeth and tongue tracing the shapes of her vertebrae. His hands are on her hips, not holding her down but offering the suggestion.
Her whole body undulates on the mattress, moisture flooding between her legs. The submissive position makes her feel incredibly vulnerable, but she knows that she could reject it - could turn herself back over and draw Castle on top of her, or push him down and ride him like she did last night for round two. She chooses instead to stay face-down, to let him continue kissing his way down her spine, her fingers clenched in the bedspread, her body flushed and trembling with pleasure.
He reaches the bottom of her spine and continues lower, nipping at her buttocks, his hands leaving her hips to slide down and press her legs apart, bending her knees slightly to lift her hips off the bed. He swipes his tongue along the tender skin of her inner thighs, tasting the moisture there. She can hear the rumble of his voice, feel it vibrating against her legs, but she can't make out the words he's mumbling into her skin.
He used his mouth on her yesterday, and it was incredible - she still can't believe how well he already knew her body - but that isn't what she wants right now. She reaches back blindly with one hand, finding his shoulder, tugging at it, even as her hips are squirming with desire and gravitating toward his tongue.
"Rick," she manages, hoarse and raspy. "I need you. Please."
He grunts, and she feels him lift away. Faintly she hears the rattle and crackle of a plastic packet, and then his weight settles between her knees, dipping the mattress.
He takes her hands in his, their fingers twining together on the duvet on either side of her head. She's panting with anticipation, her eyes open, watching their joined hands as she feels him nudging between her thighs.
It's only their second night together, and it's the first time they've done this without being able to see each other's face. He slides into her slowly, drawing exquisite pleasure along her nerves as his thick length fills her. His body looms above hers, broad and hot, the muscled wall of his chest pressing on her back, bearing her down.
She welcomes it. Somehow, having Castle covering her so completely with his body creates a feeling of peace, of safety, that she didn't even realize she has been craving. She knows it's a false hope, an illusion. But it feels so good.
Closing her eyes, she takes in the feeling of him sliding out and back in, the sound of his breathing behind her neck, the smell of his aftershave and sweat and sex. She can detect a faint hint of her laundry detergent in the bedspread, and it calls up a sense-memory of all the times she lay here like this, on her belly on the bed, alone, imagining Castle's skin on hers, his body weighing her down, pushing inside her. So many times she imagined it, and buried her heavy sighs in this bedspread, thinking it would never happen. Thinking she would never be ready, never be strong enough, good enough, healed enough to let him in.
A deep shudder runs through her at the memory, and he stills, his mouth open at the juncture of her neck and shoulder.
"Kate?" he murmurs in her ear, concern tinging his voice, even as she can feel the vibrating tension in his muscles. She takes another deep breath and circles her hips, pressing up against him.
"Don't stop. Need you."
He exhales sharply and begins moving again. One of his hands squeezes hers and then lets go, moving down along her side, slipping between her thighs to touch her. She whimpers, moving with him, sparks of electric pleasure dancing along her skin. He groans again, the sound and vibration incredibly erotic against the back of her neck, heard and felt but unseen.
His thrusts speed up, harsh and sloppy now, driving into her, his hand rubbing, her hips matching his movements, and they go hurtling over the edge together, their moans filling the quiet of the bedroom.
Panting, sweaty, they lie together in silence for a few moments. He's too heavy, and yet when he rolls off, leaning aside briefly to dispose of the condom, she misses his weight on her. She immediately seeks the haven of his arms, lifting her head to look at his face again, and finds him watching her, curious. His expression lightens when she snuggles in against him; his arms come up to enfold her.
"Okay?" he says quietly, and she nods, lowering her head to the pillow next to his, looking into his face.
"Yeah." And then, though it feels odd to say it, "Thank you."
He huffs a short laugh, incredulous. "For what?"
"For..." She's not good with words; it can be so frustrating. "The way you make me feel."
His face softens; his arm tightens around her shoulders. He leans over to touch his lips to hers.
"That feeling is mutual."
He moves as if to pull back again, but she brings her hand to his cheek again and stays him, bringing their lips together again, drawing out the kiss.
Yesterday, these same soft post-coital kisses led them very swiftly into round two, but tonight they're both exhausted and wrung out by the events of the day. So they slow the kiss by mutual understanding, and drop their heads back onto the pillow, and they fall asleep, wrapped in each other.
Beckett wakes a little while later, overheated now by the furnace that is Castle, and uncomfortable in her sticky skin. She slides carefully out of his embrace and leaves him sleeping. She showers quickly, and as the water streams down her body, she knows what she has to do.
She won't disappear into the wind, drop off the face of the earth to hide out from her enemy. She promised Castle that she wouldn't, and she'll keep that promise. But something has to give.
If she's quick enough, careful enough, she can be back before Castle wakes. If not ... well, she'll have to deal with that when the time comes. He'll understand, she thinks. She'll make him understand.
Nothing is more important than keeping him safe, now that she finally has him.
She watches him sleep while she gets dressed, her eyes traveling the familiar contours of his face as if they are new unexplored territory. At some point he pulled his t-shirt back on, and the way the fabric stretches across his chest and arms makes her flush with desire all over again. She allows herself a smile. She allows herself to believe that she can act on that lust later. She allows herself the unaccustomed hope of making that plan.
She turns, and her eye catches on the picture of herself with her mom, taken so very long ago. She feels her expression harden with resolve.
She holsters her gun and leaves.
A/N: Thanks for reading! As always, please feel free to let me know what you thought. I love hearing from you.
Huge thanks to Meg for helping me whip this mess into shape. :)