The glass door snicks behind them and he presses her into the cubicle, laughing when she flares her eyes up at him and yelps, the tile cold at her back.
"Chilly?" He grins, his fingers chasing up her spine and drawing her back in.
"I'm standing in the shower, naked with no water and you are determ- omnff." There is a sudden surge of delicious warmth at her back and his mouth just taking from hers, stealing her words and ability to breath and her indignation, until she's rising up onto her toes, wet fingers sliding through his hair.
She fights for barely a second and then she just gives in, gives up the paper-thin resistance she was holding on to because this is so much more than she expected it to be, and she already knew it would mean everything!
The way his fingers move, the warm brush of skin, the entirety of the way they touch each other is more intense, more vivid, more vibrant and more alive than she ever could have hoped, and with his arms wrapping around her this feels like something she could be good at.
Being with him.
She could be good at so many of the things she's waited for, just so she can share them with him. Like this, this slippery slide of wet skin and fevered kisses.
God, he can kiss.
The water pounds against her and it sets fire to her heartbeat, amping up a fast and frantic beat that he mimics with his tongue and god, more. More kissing.
She's not half bad herself, but really he just knows exactly what to do with his hands, one at her jaw with his thumb spread wide on her cheek to hold her in place - claiming and undeniable and unbelievably hot - blistering heat from his palm laying over her face making her eyes slam shut at the assault of sensation.
Her fingers cling to his neck, naked, and open under his touch and the hot blasts of water that hit them both somewhere around their shoulders, Kate tries to lift up her feet slipping on the tile - from the wet floor and not at all because he's making her weak at the knees - and her fingers smooth out over the slippery wet skin of his bicep.
He's slow and thorough and his nose sweeps her cheekbone as their mouths align and he nudges her lips apart. The tangle of hot breath making her shudder and give up noises from the back of her throat she hadn't even realized were trapped there.
His other hand smooths down her back, curls around her hip and trips lightly over her stomach. Each fingertip a spark, igniting white hot flame over her skin and his thumb - his damn thick and seductive thumbs - traces her navel, dips inside and slides out again so that her hips jerk forward and the entire naked expanse of their thighs, stomachs and chest slide together wetly.
Her muscles clench, low and hungry and his hand drifts lazily to her back again, skimming out over the upper curve of her ass, drumming across the skin as if he has all the time in the world and she's not about to melt from the inside out.
He pulls back, his lips dropping straight to her neck and she gasps, "Wow," Her head dropping back as a ripples of heat rolls through her stomach. His head lifts, soft wet hair tickling over her neck as he moves and his mouth stretched into an O of surprise at her words, his blue eyes dance with mischief and delight, "Shut up." She warns, before he can even speak, but she's smiling back and coiling her leg around his his ankle, her toes brushing his calf.
"Close your eyes." There is no plea, no begging for her agreement, just a command and her breath comes faster even as she complies. He has a power over her she hadn't expected and the way his voice just plummets low and gravelly, hits her hard leaving no option but to do as he says.
His voice rasps over her like stubble against the most sensitive parts of her skin and Kate shudders, her fingertips digging into his arms as she fights to hold on, her head dropping back to rest against the wall and her heart attacking her ribs in a bid to escape her chest.
He keeps one hand pressed low against her stomach, the hot heavy weight making the muscles beneath him dance for attention and everything below this point of contact quivers.
He leaves her bereft and she hates the whiny, almost whimper that leaves her lips when she feels him move back, only to have the surge of hot water race across her chest replacing him and making her gasp - it pounds across her skin hot and forceful - the spray angled just so it catches her nipples.
She's already sensitive, still too aware of the pressure building in the buds - the lingering feel of his mouth taking her in, sucking and all consuming - and the surrounding tissues shiver which each blast of water that tingles over them.
Her knees quake and her eyes desperately want to open, to see him, to make him touch her. "Castle I-"
"Keep them closed, Kate." His mouth brushes past her ear and she turns into him, the pink cavern of her mouth opening and desperately seeking his, only for her lips to close on an empty bite of nothing. And still his hand on her stomach holds her captive against the tile.
The smell of soap surges up between them, citrus and slightly smoky, male and completely him - as if she's burrowed her nose into his neck and inhaled deeply - and her heart pounds heavily with knowledge, a sudden surge of hot wet desire making her roll her hips and press herself against his thigh where it's still tangled between her legs.
He has her trapped against the tiled wall of his shower, his body surrounding hers and the rough scrape of his teeth catch her shoulder and she sinks into him. It feels good and she lets her body slide along the length of his muscle, groaning out at the relief of sensation right where she needs it.
Something soft and rough at the same time traces over her shoulder and she jerks to a stop, freezing under the movement, her entire body strains to feel more, to know more of what he has planned for her. To open her eyes.
His mouth finds her ear again, his fingers rough against her skin as she realizes he's moving something over her, tracing her skin with bubbles and the roughness of cloth that makes her gasp when it brushes her nipple. "So." He breaths and she startles at the word, at the way his hand moves and his fingers tweak her nipple and it rises to attention, "Sexy."
He is, he can say she is as much as he wants, but god just his voice, the mellow tones of seduction rolling through every word, have her on the edge faster than anything else ever has before.
His fingers trail her stomach and she gasps, sucks in a breath and a smattering of water. His fingers brush her lips and she opens her mouth again, desperate to plead for his kiss, "So." He;'s going to kill her because instead of his lips on hers she feels his fingers, hard and thick and tasting like bubbles, "Beautiful."
The rough press of whatever he holds in his hands skirts her hip bone, traces her thigh and slips between them so that his name becomes a long drawn out cry.
"Mmm, I love your voice." He whispers, still talking as his fingers slip between her legs and he rolls the pads across her until she's shuddering and the rough scrape of material against her soft weeping flesh nearly takes her legs out from under her, but he's already there, catching her and holding her up for his exploration.
Unrelenting, he works her body, up and up and higher, with the strong smell and now bitter- sweet bite of soap over her lips - above and below - over loading her senses. His fingers moving, moving, never stopping and she throws her head back against the tile expecting pain.
She lands instead in the palm of his other hand and unbidden her eyes flash open, meeting his gaze directly as his fingers withdraw from her, holding her pelvis and leaving a sticky trail as her body continues quake under the onslaught.
He holds her eyes, moves slowly and deliberately, bringing their bodies into tight and delicious alignment.
He spreads her legs wider, has to bend and flex his knees because even on her tip toes she's shorter and standing up in the shower and oh, oh, he's right there, nudging slowly and parting her, then it's one great upward surge that has her toes curling, her stomach clenching and her fingernails leaving vivid red trails over his skin.
The weight of him, the pressure as he pushes inside, solid and thick, sliding deep and deeper still until her head is spinning and her lungs are burning for breath and his hands are at her hips tight and constricting and perfect, perfect.
Their hips kiss and her leg lifts giving him that last extra inch that nearly knocks her on her backside, a ripple of gold lightning dancing out from where he touches her inside.
She squeezes around him, gets the full feel of him and his pelvis snaps back and forth in response.
"I can't-" He warns, darkly
"So don't." She cries out.
No holding back, no dragging it out, her arms slide under his, up his back so that her fingertips curve over his shoulders and she's holding him to her in a vice like grip.
She slides back and forth on the length of him, tiny millimeters of sensation because she can't keep still and he's there like an iron rod of desperation between her legs and every cell in her body is pounding with a rhythm that sounds suspiciously like his damn name.
"Castle." She threatens, groans, moans, grumbles, lovingly strokes the word past her tongue again and again and again with each little twitch of movement. "Castle" like a prayer or a curse or a whispered kiss. "Castle" until his eyes open, dark and deadly and so full of love that she moans it again, "Castle."
With him inside and the water pounding over his back it takes a seconds confirmation and then it's hard and fast and unrelenting.
The bruising force of her fingers is matched by the pounding beat he sets, his hips snapping into hers with thrust after thrust so that she cries out loud - shocked at first and then delighted, delirious even.
Ecstatic.
It hurts where her shoulders graze against the tile, but it hurts more when he withdraws and leaves her feeling empty, only for him take the pain away and to surge back inside, over and over again.
She thought she was in love with the feel of his head between her legs, or his fingers stretching her apart. She thought there was nothing better than the long slow drawn out exploration in his bed, the way he feels in her hands, but this, this is...
"More." He demands, and yes yes it is more, her leg is tight in his fingers, up around his waist the muscles in her thigh protesting as he pushes in and stretches her apart, and this time when he slams into her she rises up onto her toes, clenches tight and wrings an agonized growl from his lips.
"God, Kate." His head drops to her neck and he does it again, his teeth closing over her shoulder and she squeezes, relentless, again and again and again and again, with each surge she does it again, bringing herself to breaking point with the contraction of her own muscles.
It sizzles between them.
Short, sharp thrusts and deep yielding pressure, her stomach clenches and his muscles dance, coming alive under her hands, the rigidity of his spine so sudden and telling that yes, yes she wants to feel him and she clenches again, bringing herself closer, closer still as he pulls out and pushes back in, sliding, scraping over every nerve cell and tingly - god she feels alive and electrified and melting and so so, damn, so close.
It sizzles between them, hot and fast and like lightning it strikes hard, straight between their bodies so that he bursts like white hot fire straight into the heart of her and she breaks, the tumbles of running water no where near loud enough to silence their cries.
The heat explodes, ricochets from the wall and tumbles from her as she's near to sobbing with every snap of his hips, it's surges out billows around them and everything in her squeezes him tight, her arms around his neck, lifting his head, pulling him up to meet her kiss.
But he can't, he's breathing too hard, still pumping into her as his own release shudders through him, prolonging hers and drowning in every whimper of enjoyment that is wrung from them both.
Their lips brush, and he arches into her again, twice, three more times and her legs quiver, her back aches and her fingers are digging into him so hard that she knows she's left bruises up and down his back.
His last hoarse grunting breath catches her lips and she nips at him, her body an eclectic stutter of feelings, so vast in color and contrast that she can't even begin to name them.
He slides out, steps back when she shivers, and pulls her under the spray with him, drenching them both in deliciously hot water.
His hand thuds onto the tile behind her head and she rests her forehead against his wrist watching him. He moves slowly, coming for her with such focus that she shudders, tries to blink and can't bring herself to break eye contact.
Under the forceful fall of the shower spray he falls into her, surrounds her, but doesn't steal a kiss - this one she gives up with complete willingness, her hands roaming over him. The pounding water matching the beat of her heart.