A/N: This a direct continuation of chapter 10 of Another Life. The people want, the people get.

Special thanks to Bee and Jennifer for looking this over.

Last Call

"Take me home, Castle."

Her voice is low and rough, desire making the edges ragged. She catches a flash of his eyes spilling over with lust as his mouth descends again. She's expecting it to be desperate, a fast and hot press of his lips to hers, a promise for later. She gasps when his touch is gentle, his lips softly capturing hers with a warm insistence, the tip of his tongue tracing her lower lip before he pulls back.

He tugs her towards the stairs, frees one of his hands from hers to pull his phone out, taps a contact and raises the device to his ear. "Hey, it's Rick Castle. Can the time on my earlier request be moved up? Uh, now? You're kidding? That's perfect. Yep, same location. Thank you." He ends the call as they arrive at the landing, the short ladder up to the bar before them.

"What was that?" she asks.

"Car service," he answers, pocketing the phone. "There's a car around the corner that'll pick us up."

"I have my car," she counters.

"Yeah, but if you're driving," he starts as he winds an arm around her waist, "how can I do this?" He lowers his head to press his lips to the dip of her clavicle, lightly scraping his teeth over the curve of bone before kissing his way up the long line of her neck. She doesn't even realize that he's moving her as well until her calves bump the ladder, his chest pressing into hers to lean her back against it. He is surrounding her, body and scent invading her senses. She hooks a leg around the back of his thigh to anchor him to her, seeking out his mouth with her own, gripping a hand in his hair as she sweeps her tongue past his lips, finds his just as eager. The ladder is sharp and cool behind her, he is soft in warm in front and she has no room for rational thought, allows herself to be caught up in the bombardment of feelings and sensations.

She doesn't even realize what she's doing until she feels his fingers closing around her wrists. "Kate, wait," he says against her lips, pulling her hands from his waistband where she was tugging out the tails of his dress shirt. "Not here." He sounds regretful, feels regretful as he takes a small step back from her. "I want to do this right."

She licks her lips, sucks a breath in through her nose and nods at him as her vision clears. "Yeah, me too." She pushes off the ladder to stand on unsteady legs, reaches out to grip his forearm for a moment to make sure they'll hold her up. She glances up at him and her breath catches at the mix of wonder and want on his face, his eyes shining with affection. She can't help but crash her mouth to his again for a moment, forcing herself to keep it brief before turning to climb up the ladder, Castle close behind.

She gathers their coats from where they left them at the table as he closes the office up tight. He takes the coat from her with a smile, folds it over his arm and offers her his hand. It's such a sweet gesture, so normal in the sea of abnormal that their path has been immersed in but it feels like the most natural thing in the world to slide her fingers through his and allow him to lead her out of the bar. The car is double parked in the street, the driver paying no mind to the taxi drivers shouting curses at him as he waits.

She slides across the bench seat to the far side and quickly realizes that Castle's dreams are about to be dashed. Because she was picturing a larger car with a privacy screen and this town car, while spacious, isn't quite what she had in mind. The driver is literally right there in front of them and there is no way that she's making out with Castle when another person is close enough that she could hear him breathe. Her seatmate clearly does not have the same reservations she does though, closing the distance between them and laying a hand on her jaw to orient her face towards his, kissing her soundly before she can voice protest.

She places her hands on his chest, the warm bulk of him distracting for a moment before she pushes him away gently. "Castle, no," she breathes, kicking herself as his face falls and he shifts away from her. "No, I don't mean not at all," she rushes to explain, reaching for one his hands and cradling it in both of hers against her sternum. "I don't want to be on display." She nods her head toward the driver as the man eases the car into traffic.

"Gary's very discreet," he assures her, relaxing and shifting back towards her, sliding an arm over her shoulders.

"I'm sure he is but when I'm with you, I only want to be with you."

He tightens his arm and pulls her against his side; she pillows her head on his shoulder and swings a leg over his knee. "I only want to be with you, too," he murmurs into her crown.

She drops the loose tangle of their hands into her lap, gently tracing circles on his wrist, his palm. When she trails her fingers up his forearm, he flips his hand to lay on her thigh, his fingers brushing the inseam of her pants. The feeling travels up the fabric, her already sensitive nerves picking up every vibration in the thread and her breath hitches.

His hand stills for a moment and then he does it again, dragging his palm up her thigh and his fingers on her inseam and oh god why isn't this car going faster? She rides the small crest of pleasure, body shuddering, the hand that was gently caressing his arm now gripping tight and somehow manages to not make a sound. Except for the part where she's panting through it. That can't have gone unnoticed.

"You okay?" His mouth is so close to her ear that his breath washes down her neck and that combined with the low and carnal tone to his voice sends another shudder through her.

She presses her lips together, hums "Mmm-hmmm" in reply. He chuckles softly and that earns him an elbow to the ribs though mainly because she needs a little bit of space. To collect herself, to breathe.

To not straddle his lap and have him right here in this car, Gary be damned.

She slides her leg off his, leaning forward to place her elbows on her knees, her face in her palms. His arm is still on her back, resting just under her shoulder blades. She wants to shake him off, get a little more space, but at the same time, she really does not want that. At all.

She lifts her face and drops her chin in one hand, glancing over her shoulder at him, a smile curling the corners of his mouth, crinkling his eyes and she feels a similar smile take over her face as well. Because she understands how happy he is to be here, to finally know where they stand. To know that it's together.

He leans forward to rest his chin on her shoulder, his arm slipping down so his hand settles on her hip. "I like you like this."

She huffs out a laugh. "Frustrated?"

He shakes his head, his chin digging into her shoulder. "Worked-up. I like worked-up Beckett."

She chuckles softly and glances over at him again. His mouth is right there and it would take nothing to turn her head and kiss him. So she does. She just meant it to be brief press of lips at an awkward angle but the touch sparks another wave of want and before she knows it, Castle's hand is cradled along her jaw and he's turning her toward him. She comes willingly, her hands splayed hard at his ribs, trying to use that touch to keep her from floating away.

Because he's kissing her softly, gentle and reverent. Adoration and admiration in every brush of his lips, thankfulness in every sweep of his fingers against her side. He is slow and careful in his perusal, tongue darting out to run along her upper lip, taste at the corner of her mouth. She sighs into the kiss, a faint whimper lacing the exhalation. She shifts closer, swings her legs over his lap, opening to him, deepening the kiss. But he's determined to keep it gentle, uses his fingers on his face to keep her at a distance, the touches of his lips lighter than what she's pushing for.

How does he do that? How can he keep it contained? He's wanted her longer than she's wanted him (technically, anyway) so how is it that he's the one slowing them down when she didn't even want to make out with him in the back of this car in the first place?

But she gives in to his way of doing it. She lazily runs a hand up his chest, trips her fingers along his neck, slides them into his hair, idly circles a fingertip through the shorter hairs at his nape. He lowers his hand from her face, brushing the backs of his fingers over a breast as he goes, undoing the buttons of her vest and sliding a hand along her side, the heat of his palm burning her skin through the cotton of her shirt.

His lips over hers, his chest pressed into her side, the silk of his hair through her fingers, the feel of his hands on her, they're all new sensations and she lets herself drown in them, lets him have control because she trusts him.

And because he's really fucking good at this. She thought he might be but she really had no idea.

Somewhere though the jumble of sensations, she registers someone clearing their throat. "Mr. Castle?" Gary's voice cuts in, all businesslike politeness with no trace of embarrassment. "We're here."

They pull apart, barely, his forehead coming to rest at her temple, her eyes still closed as she tries to slow her breathing.

"Thank you," Castle replies, a little breathless, and the driver's door opens and closes, the back door of the car opening far too quick for her to have collected herself.

Castle nudges her legs off his lap and takes one of her hand in his, squeezing encouragingly. She opens her eyes to their joined hands, still surprised at how normal that feels as he slides out the car, pulling her arm as he goes. She follows and by some miracle, when she stands on the street, her legs actually hold her up. Castle shakes the driver's hand and she feels like she should say something, "thank you" or "I'm sorry" or "I'm sure you've seen worse" but before she can decide on anything, he's pulling her with him onto the sidewalk and into the building.

She's in a haze, still drowning in memories of his touch, anticipation of more. She barely registers the doormen greeting them "good evening" and the unfamiliar elevator. He pulls her against his chest when the door slide closed, puts a finger under her chin to raise her face.

"You still with me?" he asks teasingly.

"I think part of me's still in that car, actually," she answers, her honesty drawing a short chuckle from him.

The elevator chimes merrily and he takes her hand again to step out into the hallway and that's when she realizes that this is all wrong. When she told him to take her home, she didn't mean his home. His home with his daughter and his mother and this is all wrong.

"Kate?" he asks, his voice thick with worry.

"Castle, this isn't what I meant."

"What isn't?"

"They're gonna stare at us and then when I'm still here tomorrow they're gonna know and this isn't what I meant." She can hear herself babbling, hear the thread of panic that grows larger as she talks.

He looks at her confused for another moment and then it clicks and he steps in close to her, hands cradling her face, eyes filled with apology. "They're not here. Alexis is at a friend's house for a sleepover that was planned last week so I didn't even have to fabricate a reason to kick her out and my mother texted me while we were all still at The Old Haunt to let me know that she was going out with some friends after a play and to 'not wait up' which for her always means that she'll be home in the morning sometime." He searches her face for understanding, meeting his mouth to hers softly. "Kate, I wouldn't do that to you."

She takes a deep breath, lets the adrenaline dissipate. "You didn't seem mind when it was Gary," she jokes.

"Yeah, well, like I said, Gary's discrete. My mother," he pauses to grimace, "not so much."

She laughs at that, her face relaxing into a smile, an answering smile breaking open on his face as well. He drops another kiss to her lips and turns to make the rest of the trip down the hallway, opening the door and motioning for her to enter. She's not a stranger to his home but as she walks over the threshold, she can't help but recognize that this time is different. She turns to him as he closes and locks the door behind them and she can see it in him too, in the set of his shoulders, his movements carefully measured. She's not sure what to do with her hands, didn't she have something in her hands earlier?

"Crap! I left my coat in the car!" she exclaims.

He laughs softly, shaking his head. "So did I, I'll call them in the morning."

"Gee, I wonder how we managed that?" she teases, tip of her tongue caught between her teeth.

"Well, I think that I forgot right about-" he starts as he closes the distance between them, doesn't hesitate to put his hands on her, one tangling in her hair, the other sliding under the vest to settle at her waist. "Here," he finishes, laying his lips over hers. The tenderness he showed in the town car is gone, this kiss more insistent and laced with passion.

This was what she was looking for from him earlier but he was right to reign in her because now that she's had a taste of it, there's no way that she can contain herself. She kisses him back deeply, winds her arms around his back, splays her hands wide to hold him tight to her and slots her hips into his. She groans as she feels the insistent bulge of him pressed against her but it's not enough. She finishes her earlier task of pulling his shirttails out of his waistband, sliding her hands under the fabric to trail her fingers over his heated skin. He moans as she maps out his back with the whorl of her fingertips, breaks away from her mouth to blaze a trail across her jaw, down her neck.

He's been slowly leading them across the living room, she realizes as they cross the doorway into his office. His epicenter of creativity, the place where he created fiction that healed her, fiction about her. And now some of that fiction is becoming reality in the very place it was first written.

"Did you ever think about me?" she asks, her voice thready.

"I always think about you," he murmurs against her skin, his honestly making her heart stutter.

"I mean in here, when you wrote about Nikki and Rook." She pauses as a gasp escapes her when he scrapes his teeth over her skin. "Was it me drinking the tequila with you?"

He lifts his head to look at her, the dark desire in his eyes stilling her breath. "Did you think of me when you read it?"

She nods, the closest thing she's come to admitting that she did a lot more than think about him the first time she read page 105, the memory of her fingers between her legs adding more heat to her already stoked flame of want.

He kisses her, hard but brief, "Yes," he admits. "I did nothing but think of you for days to get it right."

She surges into him, pouring all of her desire into the press of her lips, fumbles with the buttons of his shirt, suddenly needing his skin on hers. Just needing him, all of him. His hands are at the front of her shirt as well, clearly of the same mind as her. They stumble into the bed room as they simultaneously push the shirts off each other's shoulders.

They also simultaneously pause as they silently acknowledge this line that they've already crossed, already in this too deep to go back. He hesitates, a hand hovering by her waist. But she doesn't want to go back, doesn't want him to question her, question this, so she steps into his hand, nudging her skin into his palm, sliding a hand up his bare chest, around the back of his neck, and pulling him to her for a thorough kiss. His hesitation is gone, both hands on her hips as he pulls her with him towards the bed. Her hands fall to his belt buckle, quickly undoing it and the button and zipper of his pants, the garment sliding past his hips to pool at his feet. He's not expecting his steps to be impaired and stumbles, his hands tightening on her, hers flying up to grip at him but it's no use and they tumble on the bed in a tangle of clothing and limbs and laughter.

She dips her fingers into the parentheses of his mouth, sweeps them up the bridge of his nose, swipes the pads of her fingers across his scrunched forehead like she's trying to feel his joy. He rolls half on top of her, nudges a leg in between her knees. It's a little awkward because his pants are still around his ankles like shackles but he manages. Their laughter subsides to soft chuckles as he settles against her, her heart picking up speed at the feel of his skin flush with hers, the obvious hardness of his arousal pressing into her hip. He's running a hand over her with no obvious destination, just running his palm over her shoulder, his fingertips down her sternum, the backs of his fingers across her stomach. His touch ignites a spark, fire blooming on her skin in the wake of his touch.

God, she needs him.

"You gonna do something about those?" she asks, waving an arm towards their feet.

"In a minute," he replies absently, his eyes trained on the skin that his hand is roaming, his answer implying that he could stay like this forever.

She cannot, will surely explode from want if he doesn't do something about the throbbing that has taken up permanent residence between her legs. She shifts enough to get a hand in between them, palming the length of his erection through his boxers. His breath hitches and then stutters on an exhale, his eyes snapping up to hers, dark and hungry. The exact reaction she was looking for.

"If you want a slow exploration, that can be arranged, I'll even give you a guided tour if you want. But can we save that for the next time or maybe even the one after that? Right now, I want you, I need you." She slides her hand up over his hip, pressing her hand into him to bring him back where he was but he's frozen.

He's looking at her oddly now, lust still behind his eyes but something else too. "Next time?" he asks hopefully.

She doesn't understand why he would question it though. "Yeah. I just thought, unless you didn't…" She trails off, dropping her eyes, not wanting to see him if he says he doesn't want the same.

But then he's kissing her, hard and a little desperate, his forehead coming to rest against hers when he breaks away. "I do want a next time. But I want more than that, too. I want to be with you."

She's flooded with relief, tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. "That's what I meant. I really think we could be something and I want that chance to find out for real."

A smile breaks his face open wide, awe shining bright in his eyes and he lowers his mouth to hers to softly capture her lips, the tenderness from earlier taking her by surprise for a moment but then she's giving it right back, promise and affection in her touches. Unlike earlier, it quickly builds to more, heat and want and desire battling for attention and winning. He eases himself off of her after a long moment, sliding down her legs as he stands, stopping at her feet to ease down the zippers of her boots and remove them and her socks.

It's funny to her that they've been shirtless and intimate yet somehow forgot that they still had shoes on. He leans down to disentangle the mess around his ankles, hopping as he pulls off his socks, the sight causing a giggle to bubble out of her throat, the uncharacteristic sound drawing his attention. He opens his mouth to say something but stops when her hand falls to the button of her pants, her fingers quickly popping it free and lowering the zipper. She hooks her thumbs in the waistband of her panties and leans back to lift her hips off the bed, sliding both garments down her thighs, standing to step out of the clothes. Holding his eyes, she reaches behind her back to flick open the hooks of her bra, allowing the straps to fall down her arms, catching one of them on her index finger and holding it up for a moment, arching an eyebrow at him as she drops it to the floor.

He still hasn't moved, his mouth still half open on a quip that never escaped. She steps over to him, her proximity bringing him out of the trance, his hands on her immediately, skimming the sides of her breasts, sliding down to cup her ass and pull her against him roughly, his kiss brutal and claiming. Her head swims, her fingers clawing at his shoulders in some inane attempt to remain upright but her knees buckle at the onslaught of passion.

He's right there though, arms banding around her back to keep her from falling, shuffles them back to the bed. She drops to the edge of the mattress, her face level with the last barrier of clothing that separates them. She looks up at Castle, unsurprised to find his eyes already trained on her and reaches out to curl her fingers into the elastic band and draw the boxers down his legs. She slides off the bed to crouch at his feet, her fingers light touches at his ankles to encourage him to step out of them. She raises her eyes back up to him, pausing to admire the hard, ready length of him before meeting his heated gaze. She turns her head to press a kiss to the inside of his knee, paints a line of kisses up his inner thigh, smiling as she hears his breathing change, shallow hitches of air moving in his chest.

She's kneeling in front him as she presses her lips to the crease of his thigh, flicks her eyes back up to him as she roams her way to the base of his erection. He face is completely still, wide eyes and shock-slackened mouth. She lays the flat of her tongue to him and drags it up his length, a deep groan in his throat, her tongue swirling over his tip as his hand insinuates itself in her hair, tugging gently to get her attention.

"Kate," he forces out through clenched teeth, "I can't, I won't last if you don't stop." And, oh, does she want that, to take him deep between her lips until he spills into her throat, the taste of him still on her tongue as she kisses him after.

But not this time. She stands, barely on her feet when he's kissing again. She opens to him, swirling her tongue in his mouth the way she wanted to over his penis and he seems to understand what she's doing, another deep groan emanating from him. He spins them and brings her down with him onto the bed, scooting back towards the middle of the huge mattress, not bothering to pull down the comforter or sheets but she's glad for it because she's already warm enough.

She pauses, hovering over him, her knees bracketing his hips, and takes a moment to commit the scene to memory. He runs a hand down her arm, threading their fingers together and she adds that to the memory bank, how he can go from kissing her with abandon to the gentle touch of his hand in hers. She raises her eyes to his face, finds him smiling softly at her.

"Me too, Kate." It comes out as little more than a wisp of sound but somehow manages to echo around the room.

She raises their joined hands above his head as she leans over him, kissing him tenderly and full of affection, so much softer than the fire raging her demands but it's what she wants at this moment. His hand runs up her side, his touch stoking the fire again and she gives in, deepening the kiss, the spark in him answering, his hand traveling higher, stroking the underside of a breast, his thumb tripping over a peaked nipple. The kiss falls apart as she moans, stopping to catch her breath.

His nose nudges at hers, his breath hot against her lips. "Kate, I need you. Please, I need you." It's possibly the most beautiful thing she's ever heard him say.

She shifts back, taking his hand with her, unwilling sever that connection just yet, grasping him in her other hand and easing herself onto him. She forces herself to take it slow, to savor this because they only get one first time. He fills her, wholly and completely, the stretch of her inner muscles against him a delicious burn. She rocks against him experimentally and revels the sound of their moans mingling in the space between them.

They move together after that, rocking and pitching their hips in a glorious point and counterpoint. He disentangles his hand from hers but she can't lament the loss when both his hands begin roaming her skin, starting at her knees, moving up to press his fingers into her hips, sailing up her stomach to cup her breasts, drag his thumbs over her nipples.

She cries out, overwhelmed at the range of sensations but through it she can't help but think that this is exactly what she was wanting yesterday and now it's happening.

"Yesterday?" he questions, completely halting the movement of his hips, the sudden lack of friction drawing a growl of frustration from her.

Shit, did she say that out loud?

She's threated death in jest before but right now, if he doesn't get moving again, she might actually kill him. She attempts to roll her hips but his hands are holding her still, the look on his face making it obvious that she has to explain herself before they get back to business.

She pushes a breath out through her nose and shakes her head. It's mostly at herself because little more than a day ago she didn't think she'd ever tell him, let alone do so while she was naked and straddling him. "Yesterday, when you called me to come meet you at The Old Haunt, I was…in the middle of something."

"Oh really?" He practically crows it, his eyes sparkling with delight. He reaches up to hook a hand behind her neck, bringing her down for a kiss and she uses the fact that his hands aren't holding her captive any longer to lift up and bring her hips back down, a moan rumbling in her chest. He pulls back just enough to break the kiss and asks, "Do you always touch yourself when you think about me?" against her lips.

She scoffs. "Don't flatter yourself," she says as she raises and lowers her hips again, his twitching up to meet her as she slides back down, the quick and sudden impact drawing a gasp from her.

"Did you think of me when you read Heat Wave?" he asks, slowly rolling his hips against hers.

She nods, just a slight bob of her head, her lips brushing his with the movement.

"And did you touch yourself?"

She nods and he stills again.

"Tell me." It's not a request or a demand, it sounds like a plea. A plea to know the story.

"Yes," she breathes, "I touched myself and I wanted it to be you." He kisses her for that, hard, punctuates it with a rough thrust. She sits back, settling herself fully on him again for a moment before she starts rocking.

And then she continues her story. "I wanted to feel you kissing me." His eyes widen as she places an open mouthed kiss to her own wrist. "I wanted to feel you touching me." She splays her hands on her stomach and runs them up her skin, cupping and squeezing her breasts, grasping her nipples tightly and gently pulling, groaning loudly at the frission of pleasure that bursts low in her belly. She opens her eyes to find his pinned on her, lust swirling in his irises. She lowers her hands to place them on his chest, her fingers tensing against his skin for balance as she leans forward. The change in position gives him just enough leverage to pick up a rhythm, the positioning hitting her just right, bright bursts of release starting to build but she has to tell him this last part.

"And when I slid my fingers inside myself, I wished it was your cock fucking me."

He raises his face to hers, catching her bottom lip between his teeth with a growl, his thrusts a little harder, a little more insistent.

"Did you say my name?" he asks.

She nods at him, teetering on the very edge, her world unraveling.

He withdraws almost completely out of her. "Say it now," he demands, slamming himself back into her, hard.

She comes apart, his name leaving her lips on a scream, the roiling chaos of the orgasm crashing wave after wave of delicious pleasure over her. Her back bows, her body curling in on itself as if it's trying to trap the feeling there forever. Her fingernails dig into his flesh, looking for an anchor hold in this storm she's weathering. She feels his chest rumble under her hands, distantly hears him groaning something that might be her name, his body shuddering beneath her. Unless that's her shuddering. She's not really sure where he ends and she begins right now.

The pleasure is relentless, its grip unyielding, she keeps waiting for the last wave to come but it never does. It's making her skin too tight, her vision swim. She slams her eyelids shut and tries to breathe through it, whimpers and cries escaping her lips with each exhalation. No man has ever made her feel this much for this long. Castle's hands are on her face now, brushing back her hair, swiping moisture over her cheek with his thumb. Oh shit, is she crying?

"Hey, you okay?" he asks, concern evident in his voice.

"Mmm-hmm," is all that she manages to reply with, a shockwave wracking her when he threads a hand in her hair, his fingers brushing the back of her neck.

"Are you still…?" Now he sounds awed, amazed.

"Mmm-hmm," she confirms with a nod.

He pushes himself up into a sitting position, his arms winding around her back as his mouth attaches to her neck, each hot, wet press of his lips drawing a sharp cry from her. He turns them, laying her down as his mouth traverses lower, finally, mercifully drawing one of her nipples between his teeth, a curse spilling from her. The flash of bliss shoots right between her legs and she knows what she needs. She grabs one of his hands and drags it across her stomach, dipping their fingers in the tip of her moisture, rubbing her fingers and his over her clit, the familiar feel of her own touch combined with the new sensation of his arching her back, pressing her hips into their hands, a stream of curses flowing now.

She moves to withdraw her hand and his fingers tighten around hers. "Don't," he gasps roughly, his tone causing her eyes to open and seek out his. "I want to see you touch yourself when you think about me." The gravel of his voice gets under her skin, plucks at her already taught nerves. She draws a shallow breath, the exhale a jagged staccato. This man is going to end her, she is sure of it.

But she shakes her head at him. "No, I want the real thing." He opens his mouth to say something else but she just, just needs him. "Please, Castle," she begs on a whine, her supplication spurring him to action.

He lifts himself up to steal a fast, hot kiss from her, his fingers circling around the throbbing bundle of nerves at her request, so close to where she wants him to touch her but not quite there. He lowers his head to her breasts again, sucking her other nipple into his mouth as he massages his fingertips over her clit, pressing down with increasing pressure.

That slow press shoves her over, the final, violent wave overtaking her, her body arching off the bed, one hand fisted in his comforter that they never bothered to pull down, the other gripping his bicep hard enough to bruise, a stream of sobs and "Fuck" and "Oh god" and "Castle" babbling from her.

He lies down next to her, holding her as she comes down, gulping in air to catch her breath. He drops barely there kisses to her cheeks, her jaw, her shoulders. She turns her head to steal one of them from his mouth and his face breaks open on a grin.

"You're beautiful," he tells her, shaking his head at himself as soon as the words are out of his mouth. "Which I realize is one of the most clichéd things that I could say right now but it's true, you are."

She smiles, his blundering compliment ringing true. "You're amazing. Also clichéd. Also true. So we're even."

She drapes an arm over his waist, snuggles against his chest, sighing as his hand comes up to settle heavily at her jaw. Sated, exhausted and happy, she falls asleep in his arms.

I'd love to know what you think.