Accept No Substitutes
a co-authored Nikki Heat AU with jstar1382
(...)
The haze from the club followed them back to her place. Every cell in his body was vitally charged and wound unbearably tight, craving release. But only at the hands of this celestial creature flush against his side.
Her body was soft and pliable in his arms, his lips tripping along the taut span of her neck. His hands were unable to resist finding a new patch of skin to touch, to map and claim as his own.
Falling into the elevator, the tension between them scorched the air as he tried to control himself in front of the other occupants. He didn't know whether to be thankful for the trendy couple who were riding up in the elevator with them, or to curse the addition of the little old woman and her cat who managed to step into the car right before the doors closed. Quite frankly, that old woman was the only reason he hadn't slammed the emergency stop button and had his way with Kate, the two thirty-somethings be damned.
Three years was a long wait.
They stumbled down the hallway, falling through her front door in a frantic tangle of limbs. Now that he knew the taste of her mouth and the touch of her skin on his fingertips, his patience was effectively shattered against the work of her tongue.
"I can't believe…" he panted against her skin, tattooing the words along the same trail his hands had forged.
"I know," she moaned.
He had wanted slow, had always dreamt of taking his time with her, but with Beckett grinding her hips into the cradle of his, he realized there would be plenty of time for slow.
Later.
Hauling her forward, Castle growled a warning and found the flare of lust in her eyes. He hoisted her up and cupped her bottom as she wrapped her legs around his waist. He was using all his strength to focus on not dropping her, but when she ground against him just like she had on the dance floor, he nearly lost it.
"Kate," he growled into her ear.
"Move faster." She nipped at his shoulder.
His mind went blank, momentarily wrapped in the hypnotic feel of Kate in his arms, so open, so vulnerable. It was maddening. Intoxicating.
There were no words for this feeling.
He managed to find his way into her room, fell onto the bed with her. The rest was a blur of zippers sliding, buttons scattering, and shirts ripping. They were past the point of elegance and nearing desperation. Neither one of them seemed able to calm the need to touch or be touched.
As if all the waiting had made him starved for her, as if every day forced to play the long game had created this voracious want.
It took all the restraint he had to pause a moment and appreciate her, as she should be, his eyes trailing down the naked slopes of her body to admire the lithe figure under him. Kate Beckett was magnificent and maddening and breathless.
Extraordinary.
"Castle. Please…"
She was begging him. She was writhing against him, and there was no way he wouldn't give her anything she wanted.
And then everything else he had left to give…
(...)
Kate Beckett woke before her alarm, overheated and clinging to the edge of the mattress. She scraped a hand over her mouth and rolled, but she met flesh.
Hot, naked flesh.
Man flesh.
(Oh, God, why was Lanie narrating in her head?)
But, mm, Castle.
She squirmed closer - he was splayed in the middle of the bed - and she put her mouth against his shoulder. Not quite a kiss. But not not one either.
She ran her fingers slowly down his arm, found his hand and played softly against his palm. He was still out cold, and she liked to think three rounds last night had no small part to play in that, but she'd really like round four before she had to shower for work.
And then round five in the shower?
Mm, wouldn't that be fun?
"Castle," she whispered. The smell of him filled her bed, sweat and sex and day-old aftershave, and to think all last night she'd been surreptitiously nudging her nose into the lapel of his jacket for this scent. "Rick."
He grunted and shifted as if to turn away from her.
Kate grinned and bared her teeth in his shoulder, worked his skin into her bite.
He yelped and stiffened, eyes flashing open.
There was absolutely nothing better than the way all that lust and adoration filled him. And spilled out until it made her a little breathless, and a lot overwhelmed by this massive, earth-shaking step they'd taken last night.
"Kate," he breathed. "Hi."
She brought her other arm between them, touched his lips with her fingers. He smiled against her, kissed the pads of her fingertips.
She dipped her chin back to his shoulder, placed her own kiss on the teeth marks she'd left. "Hi." Words escaped her.
"Good morning," he rumbled. His early-awake voice had a burr to it that made her shift on the bed, hips seeking resistance. He caught the tangle of her hair and pushed it off her neck. "You're entirely too gorgeous for six a.m."
"Oh, yeah? You're entirely too edible," she smiled.
He chuckled, still sleepy-sounding, still unable to mask the naked adoration on his face. She couldn't help leaning in and finally placing her lips on his.
She had thought to keep the kiss light, a pleasant good morning in return. But he groaned and moved over her, immediately pinning her to the mattress, his bulk impressive, arousing.
Determined.
But instead of starting where they'd left off, he stared down at her. Too tender. Too emotional. He had done that last night too, stopping to pay attention, to mark the moment.
She squirmed under him, just enough to get him moving, remind him of where he was and what the point of that particular good morning was, and then it was all she could do to hang on.
Ride him out.
(...)