Passions Push
By Dana Keylits
A/N: This is a stand-alone in the Passions universe (you need not have read them to enjoy this story), and picks up post-6X01. It fits the canon for the Passions series, but is AU for the show in that it alters the outcome of the events in Valkyrie, and makes some major assumptions about Kate's past that have never been intimated in the show. :-) Warning: If you are a full-throated supporter of the Caskett engagement, let me warn you now, you may not enjoy this fic. It is a Caskett story, it just winds the path a bit. Also, if you are at all turned off by same-gender sexuality, please, don't bother reading it.
I wrote this as a birthday present for my very good friend, Kristy! Happy birthday, my friend. I hope this "fixes" things for ya!
"I can't believe this!" Castle angrily spat, spinning on his heel towards the swing set and then seemingly changing his mind and turning 360 degrees, momentarily losing his balance. He reminded her of a child's spin top. "I can't believe it."
Kate held up both palms, taking a step towards him and noticing with dismay as he took a half-step back. "Castle, I'm not saying no."
"You're not saying yes, either."
She bit her bottom lip, her gaze dropping to his feet. "True." The air was thick and she was finding it impossible to breathe, the lump in her throat eliminating the possibility of any meaningful response. "I just..."
"You just, what?" he croaked.
She looked up at him sharply. "I thought you were breaking up with me," she explained, realizing it wasn't an explanation at all. Not at all.
He snorted, his shoulders slumping, the ring still glistening from its spot between his finger and thumb. He held it up, a sarcastic smirk on his face. "Well, clearly I'm doing a bad job of it."
She clasped her hands together, drumming them against her lips as though she were about to pray, hating the pain in his voice, the agony in his eyes. "Castle," she frowned, her glance darting between the gorgeous, enormous ring and his wounded expression. "Do you really think we're ready for marriage?"
"I wouldn't have asked you to marry me if I didn't think we were ready, Kate."
She nodded, her lip still trapped between her teeth as she felt her mind swirling in chaotic patterns, her thoughts all over the place, in every fucking corner, wondering if this was just the wall, just that god-damned wall, again. Or if, as she suspected, she was being the voice of reason, the one who would make sure they weren't making a mistake, weren't rushing into something for which they weren't prepared. She felt herself collapsing inward. They weren't ready. Not even close. They weren't even ready to live together yet.
Were they?
She inched closer, her stomach somersaulting as she felt him flinch, hating that it was her doing this to him. "Castle. I love you, I'm sure of it." She held one palm to his chest, feeling the beating of his heart, the warmth of his broad chest beneath her trembling fingers. She swallowed, blinking back the tsunami of tears that threatened to shatter her composed demeanor. "And, I can see you in my future, I've always seen you. I'm just not sure I'm ready for this step yet."
He glanced up at the bright blue sky, taking in a lungful of cool air and then exhaling heavily before returning his injured gaze to her. "If you're not ready now, Kate. How can I know that you'll ever be ready?"
A thin vertical line troubled the place between her eyes, and she felt her heart stutter. "Castle," she whispered. "I..You..." she fingered the moisture on her cheeks and kicked herself for her weakness. Picturing her mothers face, she tilted her chin upwards, her gaze falling somewhere in the space between the top of his head and the blue of the sky, and blurted, "Castle, there are no guarantees in life. None. But..."
"I guess that's all I needed to hear, then, isn't it?" He tucked the ring angrily into the front pocket of his jeans and shifted his weight from one foot to the next, roughly raking his fingers through his hair before frowning down at her. "Right?"
"Castle," she started, but he stepped backwards, his eyes dropping to the ground, one staying palm waving at her to keep out of the space between them.
"I've asked three women in my life to marry me," he explained with a course whisper. "Four, if you include Kyra," he clarified. "I've screwed up plenty of relationships, Kate. I've been divorced twice. And, I accept my responsibility for those failed marriages." He jammed his hands in his coat pocket. "So, when I decided to propose to you, I did it with my eyes wide open, I did it knowing that this was it," he wrestled one hand free and pointed at her, "...you were it."
"Castle, you are it for me, too."
"But not enough," he accused. "I'm not enough for you."
"You are enough," she stressed, the lump in her throat snatching the surety from her voice like a petty thief stealing from a five-and-dime. "Castle, I'm not saying I don't want to marry you." She itched to step closer, her body actually itched for it, and it ached to have this foot of space between them. But, he'd created an invisible barrier so she stood respectfully rooted to her spot, as though kept there by some invisible Star Wars like force field. "I'm just saying not yet."
He stuffed his hand back into his coat pocket and flared his elbows out, his eyebrows hiked to his hairline. "Which is the same thing as no. Since it's not a yes."
"Castle, please don't look at it that way, please."
He started to back away, taking slow, short steps from the swing set. "I don't know how else to look at it, Kate. I asked you to marry me, you didn't say yes. And, I'm betting you took the job in D.C., right?"
Fuck. She was hoping to avoid discussing that at this particular moment. "Castle, I don't want to..."
He nodded. "That's my answer."
She didn't know what to say.
"I need to go," he announced, giving her a hangdog expression that sliced through her like a samurai's sword.
"Castle, please don't walk away from me. Please. We can work this out." She took two steps towards him, her eyes brimming with tears, her stomach in knots, her heart thundering in her chest. "Please." He stopped and stared down at his shuffling feet, not protesting when she closed the gap between them, or when she slipped her hands into his. "Please, Castle."
He looked at the ground for what felt like minutes, but in reality were only seconds, and then he pulled her to him, his palm cradling the back of her head as she leaned against his shoulder, closing her eyes, inhaling his familiar masculine comforting scent. She could feel the thunder in his voice more than hear his words when he told her he needed tonight to think. "I need to be away from you right now. I need to figure out what I want, because I can't take a back seat in your life, Kate. I want more than that. I deserve more than that," he gently pushed her away from him, instinctively swiping at the trail of tears that fell down her cheek with the pad of his thumb. "You deserve more than that."
As he turned and walked away from her, his shoulders rounded but his stride long with purpose, she wanted to scream. She wanted to run after him and pound his chest with her fists, to make him see, to make him understand. Instead, she mutely watched as his mountainous silhouette disappeared down the street, and when he was nothing but a dark speck in the distance, she shoved her hands in her jacket pockets and stumbled out of the park.
She had no idea where she was going, as long as it was away from here.
Choosing a table towards the back and near the fireplace, Kate settled into the oversized chair and picked up the extensive wine list that the way-too-friendly server had shoved into her hand when she'd sat down. This was a new wine bar, small and comfortable, with an assortment of seating arrangements, including the pair of overstuffed leather chairs that framed the open fireplace, one of which she was currently occupying. The place still had a faint odor of fresh paint, and a small table between the chairs held a brand new candle and two unused coasters. The polished oak coffee table in front of her had just enough room for the plate of cheese and bread she'd ordered. Not that she'd really felt like eating, but it would go well with the wine.
Little miss sunshine returned to take her order, and Kate requested a half carafe of Ste. Michelle Chardonnay, accepting the glass of water her server had taken the liberty to pour for her, and drinking half of it before setting it down on the pristine coaster that bore the wine bar's kitschy logo. She was about to settle back, close her eyes, and figure out how to fix this mess with Castle when she heard her name.
And, she knew that voice. That unmistakably velvety voice.
She turned to look at the woman backing into the matching leather chair beside her, and felt her breath stall.
"Hello, Kate," Bette Porter purred, a broad smile exposing a row of perfectly white teeth. Kate must have looked completely shocked because Bette cocked her head, hoisted her wine glass in tribute, and offered Kate an amused grin. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
After recovering from seeing her former lover so casually seated in the chair beside her, Kate stood up and accepted Bette's warm embrace, her mind immediately taking off in a race back to those fifteen days they'd been together when Kate was a freshman at Stanford. Bette even smelled the same, a combination of vanilla and lavender that Kate couldn't help but inhale as they stepped apart, returning to her seat with the scent lingering in her nostrils, sending her careening back to the days when she and Bette used to lay naked in each others arms.
"Where is your better half?" Bette asked, crossing her legs at the knee, her short skirt revealing Bette's endlessly long, toned, sun-kissed legs, her whole body tilting towards Kate. The expression on her face must have betrayed Kate's inner turmoil, because Bette raised an eyebrow and gently reached out to touch the back of Kate's hand. "Everything okay?"
Thankfully her wine arrived, and Kate accepted it, taking a generous gulp before answering. Of all the people to run into tonight, of all the times to run into her, the one that could have been, the life she could have had. Kate cleared her throat and side-glanced at Bette who was still gracing her with that wicked, wicked smile. "We, ah, yeah. I think it'll be okay. Just a little bump in the road."
Bette offered her a sympathetic look, the kind that said yeah, I know how it is. "I'm sorry, Kate."
She felt her mouth curve downward as she ducked her head, letting her hair fall like a curtain over her eyes, uncomfortable with the sudden wave of Sapphic sentimentality that was suddenly licking her shores. Even more uncomfortable by the fact that Bette was still patting the back of her hand."Thanks," she mumbled, slipping her hand free and relocating it to the safety of her own lap. She glanced back up, "Just one of those things."
Bette folded her arms over her middle, tilting her head as she asked, "And, what thing are we talking about, Kate?"
Within minutes, they'd fallen into an easy rhythm, almost as though no time, or heartache, had passed between them, and Kate had unloaded all of the gooey details about Castle's proposal and her subsequent icy feet. Bette had been surprisingly quiet through all of it, simply listening as Kate poured out the details as easily as she'd been pouring the wine, which she'd poured quite easily, ordering a second carafe in the middle of her tale of angst. When she finished the sordid story, she licked her lips and folded her hands in her lap, blinking at Bette as she waited for a response.
Bette picked up her glass, drained its contents, filled it half full of the ruby wine in her carafe, took a sip, and then smiled at Kate, her obsidian eyes reflecting a playful glow from the fireplace. "Well," she breathed. "I wish I could say that Castle was being an asshole in all of this," she set her glass down and folded her hands, tucking them beneath her chin, "…but, I can't."
Kate huffed, tucking her ankle beneath her opposite leg and turning in the comfortable chair to face her former lover. "Does that mean you think I'm the asshole?"
Bette smiled, shaking her head back and forth, her jet-black curls bouncing softly around her shoulders. "No. Not at all. I think you're in two different places. He just needs to let you catch up."
Kate chewed the inside of her cheek, frowning. "He's been waiting for a long time, Bette. I might lose him."
Bette shook her head again, leaning sideways. "I think he knows what he has. He's a lucky man, Kate." She frowned, a faraway look glinting her eye. "I sure wish I'd known, you know, back then, when we were together. I wish I'd known, I wish I hadn't been such a coward." Bette glanced down at her hands as they lay relaxed in her lap. She cocked her head and offered an apologetic smile. "I was stupid. I often wonder what we could have been had I not chickened out."
Kate nodded, remembering, absently tugging on her earlobe as her head bobbed up and down, her thoughts stuck in the past. "Yeah," she agreed, half-grinning, "...it could have been great."
They stared at each other, each lost in her own thoughts. The heat rose in Kate's cheeks and Bette noticed, her eyes dropping to the detectives full lips. Kate felt a tickle of sentiment wind its way through her, and she laughed. "We had some good times, Bette. You and me. Didn't we?"
Bette's face lit up, her flawless mocha skin shining under the glow of the soft lights and the amber reflection of the fireplace. "We did. I'm glad you remember them fondly."
Kate cast her eyes downward, noticing the white in her knuckles, as her hands tightly gripped one arm of her chair. "I do. I always have. In spite of," she glanced up and saw the flicker of remorse cross Bette's eyes, and she was oddly glad for it. "...what happened."
Bette exhaled, a genuine look of regret and affection cradled in her eyes, and she giggled, saying, "Do you remember that day at the beach?"
Kate blushed and her hand flew up to her cheek as though some invisible flame had scorched her. "Um, yes," she answered. "I remember it very well."
Bette lowered her voice, leaning forward to keep her words from reaching unwanted ears. "Do you remember what happened on the way home?"
Kate smiled broadly, remembering exactly what had happened on the way home. "As I recall, we could have been arrested." She pointed at Bette, clearly placing the blame for the incident on her.
Bette laughed in that bewitching way that had always lured Kate in, and Kate's mind traveled back to an innocent time, before Castle, before the Twelfth, before Bracken, before she became a motherless daughter.
Before she had a wall.
November, 1998
She'd yanked my hand so hard, I thought my arm was about to pop right out of the socket. "What?" I asked, doing my best cirque de soleil impression to keep up without dropping anything. She had the cooler and umbrella; I was holding the beach bag, blanket and both towels.
"Look!" she pointed at a line of public showers, the outdoor stalls shielded only by blue vinyl curtains. She winked at me with that glint in her eye, that mischievous 'we're gonna do something naughty' glint in her eye. "C'mon, let's get the sand out of our butts."
Before I could be the voice of reason, she'd dragged me into one of the ceramic tiled stalls and, laughing, I'd tripped over the edge and almost fell on my head. Dumping our stuff just outside of the curtain, she slid it closed, then spun around and pinned me against the cold tiled wall. She fingered the edge of the white terry-cloth jumper I'd thrown on over my suit, pressing her pelvis against my thigh. "Let's get naked, Kate."
It started as a tickle at the base of my spine and then immediately cascaded throughout my body. She touched me here and I felt it there. How did she do that? How did she always do that? She stepped back, staring at me with that devlish grin on her face, laughing, reaching behind her to release the clasp on her bikini top. She cupped her breasts with both hands, not taking her gaze away from me, even as mine dropped to her perfect chocolate drop nipples. She reached out and snatched my terry cloth jumper, pulling it down my body and tossing it beneath the blue curtain in one swift grab. I turned the knob on the shower nozzle and she squealed as the cold water hit her square in the chest. Her nipples immediately rose and hardened against the icy water and I dipped my head, taking one of them into my mouth, not caring about, not even feeling, the cold water that drenched the back of my head. I just wanted to taste that sweet auburn nipple of hers. And when I felt her quiver beneath me, heard the telltale whimper ascend her throat, felt her fingernails dig into my back, I knew I'd hit the sweet spot.
It wasn't long before we'd shed our bathing suits, leaving them in a heap on the soapstone floor as our hands and mouths met and explored, delving into our softest, sweetest parts. Her lips were soft, so, so soft, but her kiss was hard and vigorous, her tongue unrelenting and my mind was abuzz with riotous thoughts as her greedy fingers forced their way between my legs.
We kissed and touched and coiled ourselves around each other in a furious act of hedonistic pleasure. In spite of the cold water hammering like a thousand sharp needles against my skin, I felt like I was a girl on fire. I could almost see the steam rising from my flesh in an enthusiastically wanton smoke signal every time she touched me with her cool, slick, curious fingers.
Using her body, she pinned me to the wall, the water from the shower hitting the floor just beyond us, as though we were Sapphic lovers stealing a quick fuck beneath a raging waterfall.
"Bette, God!"
Her knee had wedged its way between my legs, her hand cupping me, spreading apart my wet folds with her first and third finger while her middle finger explored the depths of me. I was wet, and warm, and I could practically hear myself pulsing against her. "Kate," she croaked, her finger working wonders. Doing amazing things to me. I opened my eyes and whispered her name. And then I did it again, and again, like a litany or a prayer, as I gave in to the delicious sensations that had taken custody of my body.
She withdrew her finger and kissed her way down my front as I braced myself against the tile with both hands, my breathing growing ragged and labored, occasional 'fucks' and 'gods' spilling from my lips as I quivered beneath her roaming lips.
Kneeling in front of me, her fingertips mapping a path down the curve of my abdomen, gliding through the downy patch of hair that gathered in a perfect upside down triangle at my center, digging into the sinewy muscles of my thighs, she whispered for me to spread my legs. I moaned, rolling my head from side to side, my damp hair sticking to my cheeks. She smiled, sensing the exhilaration that was building in my insides as I swelled and peaked, anticipating the release that was about to come. "Here, Kate," she croaked, and then guided my left leg over her shoulder as she ducked her head, coasting her tongue over my sensitive, swollen clit.
"Bette!"
I flinched and then immediately tilted towards her, opening myself to her, and she took my clit into her mouth, flicking it with her tongue, rolling it past the dangerous ridge of her teeth, sucking and tasting, coaxing me into nirvana and I felt as though I might shatter into a million jagged pieces, right there, all over the ceramic tiles of the public shower.
Five days. Five days we'd known each other like this, and already she knew exactly what to do. Exactly how to touch me, how to kiss me, how to get my body to hum and tilt, quiver and moan. She touched me and I vibrated, she whispered and I groaned. It was a simple call and response; she called and I responded.
The tile was hard against my back, her tongue sharp against my clit, and I reached for her with greedy fingers that tangled themselves in her thick wet hair. "Bette, fuck. God. Don't stop."
She stopped.
"Noooo!" I roared. "Please, Bette."
"How much do you want it, Kate?" Her hands teased up my thighs, over the soft pouch of my abdomen, tripping over the ladder of my ribcage before palming my breasts, her fingers pinching and twisting my nipples. She stared up at me, her smile wicked, her eyes playful. "How much?"
I used the leg that had been slung over her shoulder to push her towards me. "I want it! Please," I begged, offering her my most tortured expression.
She flashed me a toothy grin and then dove back in, her tongue like a razor against my swollen clit and within seconds I was crying out, a string of incomprehensible words spilling out and occupying the spaces between us.
Like a surfer at high tide, I rode each wave, my body quivering and humming, my knees turning to syrup and Bette held me up as I shook and trembled from the orgasm that rippled through me. It took awhile for me to come down, the soft contractions receding in a gentle self-satisfied retreat.
"Hey! You in there. Get a fucking room!"
We both jumped at the booming voice and noticed a pair of black shoes belonging to a very large-footed man who was standing just outside of the curtain. "Get your shit and get out of there!"
We collapsed into a gale of giggles, reaching for our suits and falling into even more laughter as we tried to get them on, pulling wet polyester on wiggling bodies was not an easy task! When my bikini top didn't quite fit right, I burst into another round of laughter as I realized I'd put on Bette's top and she'd put on mine. Seeing as how the angry man's shoe's hadn't moved, we quickly traded suits, shut off the water, and then, steeling ourselves, opened the curtain.
And came toe to toe with a cop.
Fuck.
He pointed at us accusingly as we failed to hide our amusement. "This isn't some hippie nudist colony, ladies! Keep that shit in West Hollywood."
Quickly gathering our stuff, cursing as I missed one of the straps of the beach bag and our books and lotion and the empty bottle of wine went rolling out, we simply nodded, laughing, not even bothering to address his obviously homophobic remarks.
He picked up the empty bottle of wine and looked from me to Bette and then back to me.
"You can't have alcohol on the beach."
We both froze.
He looked more closely at me and took a step towards me. "How old are you?"
"What?" I stammered, "Ah, I…"
"We found that," Bette confidently lied. "On the beach. I didn't want some little kid coming across it, or for it to break and cut someone, so I grabbed it to put in the recycling." She looked at him with a statement in her eyes. Like she was saying, 'c'mon mother fucker, I dare you to challenge me.'
He coughed, handing me the bottle and then rubbed the side of his nose Barney Fife style. "Get out of here," he growled. "Before I arrest you for lewd and lascivious behavior."
"God, he really said that, didn't he?" Bette giggled as she signed the credit card receipt that Little Miss Sunshine had given her.
"Yeah, lewd and lascivious!" Kate remembered with a chuckle. "What a tool."
"You're a cop now, Kate. What would you do if you came across a pair of frisky lovers doing it in public?" She snapped her wallet closed and tucked it inside of her black leather satchel.
Kate drank the last of her wine and then picked up her credit card slip and signed it. "Oh, I don't know. I suppose it depends on the circumstances." She smiled at Bette fondly. "I wouldn't use the words lewd and lascivious, though."
They fell into an easy laughter, and Kate eyed Bette with a twinkle of gratitude. "Hey. Thanks for tonight."
Bette reached over and patted Kate's knee. "It was really nice seeing you again. I'm sorry you're having," she chewed her bottom lip as though searching for the right word. "…issues with Castle. But, I could tell he was head over heels for you, Kate. You'll work it out."
As if on cue, Kate's phone chimed and she picked it up, her heart sputtering when she saw she'd received a text from Castle. She held the phone up, "Speak of the devil."
Bette raised an eyebrow as she shrugged into her jacket. "Ah, good. Maybe he's cooled off."
Kate called up the text and was heartened to see that he was texting to ask if he could come over. I'll come to your place, she quickly typed before stuffing the phone back into her jacket pocket. "Yeah," Kate breathed, not wanting to pin her hopes too much on a happy outcome.
The pair stood up and wound their way through the throng of wine drinkers and diners until they reached the front door. Standing on the sidewalk, Kate couldn't help but be delivered, if even for a second, back to those blissful fifteen days she'd shared with Bette. She felt a twinge of nostalgia, and then remembered the pain, the rejection when Bette had ended things. She suddenly felt sick to her stomach, wondering if Castle were feeling those same emotions right now.
She stepped into Bette's personal space, her arms wrapping loosely around the woman, and offered a quick warm hug. "It was really nice seeing you again, Bette." And, she meant it. Seeing Bette had been a jarring reminder of how quickly life can change, how unexpected the future truly is. That you can think your life is headed on one path, and suddenly you've been swept up by an emotional tornado and now you're on this path instead, saying goodnight to someone you thought you might say all of your goodnights too, but who has inexplicably become a stranger to you.
"You too," Bette whispered, holding Kate for an extra beat before letting go. "Good luck with," she pointed at Kate's pocket as though Castle were nestled inside of her cell phone, "…whatever you want to have happen with him."
"Yeah," Kate nodded, taking a couple of steps backwards. "Thanks."
Bette nodded, and then, with a bow of her lips, a fleck of their past shooting across her eye and then fizzling out, she turned on her heel and walked down the sidewalk. And, for the second time that day, Kate stood rooted to her spot as she watched the silhouette of someone she'd loved recede into the night.
Only this time, there were no regrets.
The door opened and before she could even get through the threshold they both blurted, "I'm sorry."
They laughed in unison, hers nervous and light, his relieved and booming, and Kate's heart immediately stopped hammering in her chest. She drew in a lungful of blessed air, and then slowly exhaled. "Castle. I'm so, so sorry I didn't tell you about D.C. right away." She let him tow her to the kitchen where he had a pot of homemade hot cocoa warming. "I don't know why I do that. Why I shut you out like that." She sat across from him on one of the kitchen stools, loosely holding his hand, suddenly noticing with immense pleasure that his thumb had been painting lazy circles in her palm. "It's just," she grimaced. "Second nature."
"It's okay, Kate."
She shook her head, her chestnut brown curls bouncing softly around her shoulders. "No, Castle, it's not. I need to…"
"It takes time."
"Yeah. It seems like I'm always asking you to wait."
"Look, Kate." He inched closer, taking her hand in both of his. "I realized I was being selfish."
Both eyebrows shot up and she tucked her chin in disbelief. "You?"
"Yeah, let me explain. I had a talk with mother…"
"Who told him he was being a complete ass…" the disembodied voice of Castle's mother interrupted. Martha descended the stairs wearing a colorful ensemble, her hair perfectly coiffed, her makeup flawless. "I reminded him that the two of you had never even discussed marriage, and why on earth would he expect you to expect a proposal!?" She click-clacked across the floor to them. "You kids haven't even been together a year, well, you've been together but not been together, you know?" She leaned in and air kissed Kate on the cheek, and then pinched the back of Castle's neck. "You need to shack up first! Work out all the kinks." She held one hand to the side of her mouth as though sharing a secret "And the kinkier the better, my darlings," she added with a wink. She pulled a neon orange wrap around her shoulders, picked up her purse and headed to the front door. She held one finger up, "Then you'll be ready for a dance down the aisle. Trust me!" And, as suddenly as she'd appeared, she disappeared, tossing a "don't wait up," over her shoulder as the door slammed shut behind her.
They stared at the door for a beat before casting their eyes on each other. Castle opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again and blurted, "What she said."
He traced haphazard patterns along her spine using only his tongue, swirling a hot trail around the pair of twin dimples that dotted the porcelain plane of her lower back. His hands greedily kneaded the soft flesh of her backside, his fingers teasing their way between her legs as she lay on her stomach, and she moaned, shards of lightening radiating from the spot, a balance to the thundering of her heart.
"I thought we were giving each other massages?" Kate asked. Not that she minded this, not that she minded this at all, but they'd agreed on ten-minute massages. Naked massages, sure, but massages nonetheless.
"I am massaging you," he answered, framing her hips with both hands, and then flipping her over. She swatted at him, laughing, and he dodged her playful hand by ducking between her legs, "I'm massaging you with my mouth," he clarified, and then, with a sinful flick of his tongue, hit the spot, that spot, and her eyes rolled back in her head as the lightening and thunder continued to sparkle and rumble through her entire body, tip to toe, like an August storm.
She spiraled upwards, higher and higher, as he 'massaged' her with his tongue, his hands tripping along her flesh, finding every line and curve, kneading in some spots, pinching in others, and she arched her back as he palmed her breasts, and buried her fingers into his hair just as she soared, leaping off the edge like a cliff diver, the orgasm taking her by surprise; which didn't make sense since she'd expected it.
He kissed his way back up her body, the dip at her belly button, each ladder of her ribcage, the faded scar between her breasts, each nipple in its own turn, taking care to suck and nibble before letting go and finding her pulse point, pressing his lips softly against her skin, feeling the race of her heart against his mouth. He peppered her neck with kisses before finally gazing into her hazy eyes. He smiled, and adorable irresistible crinkles graced the corners of his baby-blues.
She bit her bottom lip, her gaze dropping to his lips while announcing, "You missed a spot."
Before he could voice his confusion, she seized his mouth with hers, groaning at the trippy flavor of her scent mixed with his. She clutched a fistful of his hair as her tongue explored the inside of his mouth and she wrapped one leg around his middle, excited by the hot timber of his erection against her hip.
Without breaking the furious pace of their kiss, she wiggled beneath him, urging him until he finally got the hint and rose up to enter her, filling her completely. Her body stretched to accommodate him; her flexible inner muscles contracting around him and a satisfied sigh escaped her lips like steam from a pressure cooker.
He took his time, enjoying the languid pace of this particular ballet, and she coiled around him, her arms and legs gripping him tightly, her fingernails leaving parallel patterns in the pink flesh of his back.
Their kiss was endless, and she needed nothing more. Not from him, not from the world, not sight or sound or comfort or pain or any other experience that would take her from this, right now, this time, right here, with him.
It was everything.
She was coming again, crying out, his name like a prayer that dripped from her lips in even sacred measures, and he slowed the in and out of his hips as he coaxed her orgasm, his lips traveling her throat, her jaw, her lips, her earlobe, the tip of her nose, her forehead, and then back to her mouth where their tongues met and danced and knew each other.
And then his breathing changed, his heartbeat raged, boom, boom, boom against her chest, and he thrust into her deeply, aggressively, and she could feel him spill into her, emptying himself, pounding over and over, slowing, crying, panting frantically as he gave eager permission for this possession of his mind and body and soul.
And, then he was done, and he collapsed on top of her, their bodies coated in a thin layer of sweat, their breathing labored and heavy, their hearts beating in equal frantic rhythm, but slowing, recovering, healing, with each breath in, and each breath out.
They scampered under the covers, wrapping so tightly around each other that she didn't know where he ended and she began. Not caring, either.
He started talking, as though there hadn't been this impossible intermission in their conversation, and she rose up on one elbow to listen.
"So, you're moving to D.C.," he muttered, his voice low and breathy, still laced with the tone of one who'd just had amazing sex. "And, you're leaving the Twelfth," he continued, staring at the ceiling. "And," he glanced at her. "…you're not marrying me."
She rolled on top of him, tracing his lower lip with the pad of her index finger. "Yet," she clarified. "I'm not marrying you, yet."
He nodded, a gentle smile bowing his lips. "Then, with all of that. Why do I have this inexplicable feeling that we're suddenly closer than we've ever been?"
She felt it too. She shook her head, drawing him closer, "I dunno, Castle. Maybe we're actually growing? Together? You know, like, evolving?"
His eyebrows knit together in the shape of an elongated vee. "In just one night?"
She laughed. "Yeah, funny, huh?"
"All because you said…"
"Not yet."
"Not yet," he aped.
"I guess so," she shrugged, stretching up to kiss him softly.
He returned the kiss, his tongue darting out to skip over her lower lip. "Maybe mother was right. He slid his hand in the warm, wet, still pulsing spot between her legs, "Maybe we just need to work out the kinks."
She groaned against his mouth, a textured stirring happening between her legs. "Mmmhmm, certainly doesn't hurt," she agreed.
She skidded to a stop just outside the bathroom door, her impossibly long legs exposed beneath Castle's wrinkled white oxford shirt, just in time to watch as he picked up his jeans from the pile of clothing on the floor, the diamond engagement ring flying from the pocket and skittering across the hardwood, landing, coincidentally, at her feet.
Her breathing stalled and she stared down at the glistening ring, every one of its four carats sparkling against the soft glow of the recessed lighting, while he stood rooted to the floor. As though in slow motion, she picked up the ring and walked towards him, immediately noticing its weight and brilliance against her delicate hand. When he'd proposed (was that really earlier today?) she hadn't really looked at it. Seeing it now, she could tell how beautiful, and big it really was.
She reached him as he stood in the center of the room, his bottom half covered in striped pajamas that were so long they pooled around his feet. She held the ring up with two fingers and dropped it in the cradle of his palm. Closing his fingers around it, she held his fist up to her lips and kissed his knuckles. "Keep that safe, Castle." She patted his chest as she felt the lump rise in her throat. "We're going to need it someday."
The End
I hope you liked it. This was so much fun to write! Happy Birthday, Kristy! XO