She stares down when he breathes her name, her fingers caught up in the hem of her shirt, but she doesn't pause, doesn't drag it out any longer. The sharp jerk and role of her pelvis and the way she licks her lip as if preparing to devour him, telling him she needs to move, needs to feel him. And instead of teasing him anymore - like they both know she could - she continues drawing the shirt up and over her head before throwing it behind her, not caring where it falls.

Naked from the waist up she rocks into him, a firmer, slower friction that breathes new life into her need and his want and their joint, rolling efforts to get the other breaking on a desperate cry. He can feel the hot, wet press of her against his thighs, the moist heat seeping from between her legs and his fingers dig into her hip bones.

He wants to touch her.

She presses her weight down into his lap and shimmies, her head tipping back so the ends of her hair sweep across his thighs and even though he is still wearing far too many clothes for his liking he can feel the movement of the strands through the thin material, feel it lick like flame that spreads out slowly, up and down the length of his legs.

Between her thighs he feels the smolder of her body, the heat that billows from her and his fingers are so close to the edge of her shorts, to surging up and underneath, to slipping in between her lips and scorching his fingertips.

"Give me your hands." She pleads, with her eyes closed and her back arched, searching like she knows what he's thinking - and she probably does - because even as her body dances above him, sweet desire plastering her her bare skin to his, she pulls his hands up, gripping his wrists tight when she finds them and bringing them up with her own.

She holds on, laces their fingers together and squeezes, like they're already joined, like he's already inside her and she's riding him for the pleasure they'll both soon drown in.

But he's not. And he should be.

The slow gyration, the way he rubs her, the blood that pounds and throbs between them and rushes in his ears making the room feel like it's spinning. Around and around and around with the lowdown dirty, twist of her artful body.

Her eyes fly open when his stomach muscles clench and the blood pulsing through him - hardening him almost painfully - presses his solid length firmly against her and she slides back and forth along him, no skin contact where it should be

There is no escaping it, the way they react to each other has always been obvious, instant and fiery. First with their words and their banter, now with their touch and the way they move, with the way their blood surges as if reaching through their skin for the other.

He can feel the pulse of it to the very tip of his erection, like this great pounding thud that sears his skin and he can feel her squeeze her thighs, clenching to roll herself against him, hip to stomach using the angle of his bones through his skin to touch herself, work herself up, the thin shorts she usually sleeps in riding high and dampening almost obscenely with each movement.

He's going to have to burn them after this. There is no way he will ever be able to sleep knowing she's wearing them, those tiny little shorts will always remind him of this night, yes, he's going to have to burn them. If he doesn't rip them from her body first.

"Kate." He breathes and she looks down at him, her eyes wide still and so dark that all color is being sucked into the swirling vortex of her pupils, a black hole of desire alight there in the all consuming darkness. She draws everything in, absorbs and devours it all, stealing whatever words he was about to speak.

"Castle." She echoes his call, his name on the tip of her tongue, an elongated meander through two simple syllables. But she plays the word like a savant, catching the letters, rolling and twisting and tweaking them until just the sound of her voice has him jerking his hips in response. She makes his name into a beautiful, sex fueled melody that flitters around them.

A song he will never tire of hearing.

She gives it up, the tale end of his name slipping through her lips on a hiss and she holds his eyes, telling him what she wants, what she needs.

She wants him to move, to touch her. "Here."

She hums it, the quaver of her voice rich and exotic and immediately the pads of his fingers spread out like tentacles across her chest, stroking at each rib almost individually. The soft wave like motion of his fingertips making her stutter and rock in place rather than circle. Little up and down movements that almost end him.

His thumbs sweep the underside of her bobbing breasts in retaliation, chasing goosebumps across the silken skin, his grip spanning her entire waist and she rises up above him, her knees squeezing at his thighs, her body contracting around him. Bruising and forceful and so good.

He can almost feel her gasping and reaching for him, the invitation written boldly in her eyes, the heavy lidded desire that flares like a firework on the darkest night, sending color through her jet black pupils.

She smiles and it's almost shy in contrast to the dark demands of her body, a shiver racing through her that he feels all over his own skin. But it's knowing and wanting and everything they have ever done to each other is written on her lips so plainly that her angelic grin becomes devilish.

They're slick with sweat already, something racey and hot and unnerving in its intensity coiling around them. She wants him closer, he can read it in her body and the steady undulations of her hips. It's visible in the way she brushes her own chest, teases her skin and clenches her fingers in the sheets at his side.

Her eyes are stark and pleading, her fingers curling in invitation, the ring catching her eyes as she breathes out, "Come here."

He complies to her request, his heart thudding wildly, and pushes up from the bed. With his arm behind him for leverage and his chest rising to meet hers, he brings their bodies into each other until he's sitting up with her in his lap, pressed into him tighter than before. They wrap each other up in their arms, hips still rolling in unbidden surges that make their fingers cling, their toes curl and with her sitting in his lap all he really has to do is thumb aside the leg of her shorts to be inside her.

Hot, with their bare chests mashed together, nipples dragging in frantic aching peaks over him, and so tight he can feel the beat of her heart thud along with his, feel the twitch and pulsation between her legs, the damp strain against his thighs that makes him want to flip them over, rip off her clothes and attempt to break the bed.

He thinks they should leave it a smoking pile of rubble in the middle of the room with the remnants of they tattered clothing strewn around it like victory markers.

He drags her closer with a hand at the small of her back even as she rises higher. Her fingers thread through his hair, scratching at his scalp and glancing his forehead with the softest of touches that make his eyes close and his mouth open hotly against her skin.

The salty, sweet taste of her sweat meets his tongue when it darts from his mouth to trace over her chest, skimming her scar and deviating sideways.

Full of warmth and anticipation, she guides his hand around her body, fingers tight at his wrist, bringing him up higher until he's cupping her breast, settling his grip where she wants it before her arm bands around his neck and she looks down.

She's on her knees in his lap, watching from above and the gentle rise and fall motion of her body, the way she holds him in place and offers herself to him leaving little to the imagination.

Her hair trickles in a slow tumble either side of their faces, brushing his cheeks and shoulders and casting her in shadows that he chases with the tip of his tongue. He watches her eyes slam shut when he kisses the hardening peak of her nipple, lips wet and gentle as his fingers copy the movement on her other breast, pulling, twisting, thumbing and tweaking.

He circles slowly, twists the bud and rasps with his nails, the sharp contrast to the slow gentle kiss making her jerk in surprise.

He envelopes her then, sucking the sweet flesh deeply into his mouth and grazing over the nub his teeth. He rolls his tongue, and feels the bruise of her knees as she digs into him.

The hand in his hair wrenches free, slithers over his shoulder and slams into the wall above his head as she shudders, trying to find balance and control, but he wants none of it.

Sucking harder on her skin, wanting to feel her as she slowly comes undone - the delicious way she tastes as she unravels - he lets her nipple pop free of his mouth, reaches for the other to give it the same attention and devotion, sucking harder, slower, softer, teeth and tongue in battle for dominance and he knows if he marks her skin she'll come after him with threats and promises and more heated demands, using her body to punish him - payback.

And that's exactly what he wants.

He licks, tastes, teases and sucks, her breasts molded to the palms of his hands until her body is nothing more than frantic shiver of feeling that ripples seductively against his own.

Sucking harder on her nipple, his tongue twisting around and around as his fingers roll, the weight of her resting heavy when she presses more of herself down into his waiting hands, she gives herself over to his touch.

He licks and kisses everything, the pulsating peak, the trickle of sweat that slides down from her neck, the curve of her breast and the heated underside that still holds a trace of the scent of her soap.

He licks and kisses and touches until she's rolling against him like a turbulent wave, and he can do nothing but jerk up against her in response. Their bodies so eager to meet in that long, thick, slick slide that makes their hips kiss, as they cling to each other and get too lost in the this - the quick motion of almost - to move apart and come together.

"God, Castle." She thrusts against him, moans his name and slides down to take his mouth in desperation, having to get him away from her skin, from the feelings he is sending racing through her chest. From the sharp electric tingle of her nipples and the heavy weight of her breasts as they throb and ache and demand more of his attention.

He can tell by the sound of her voice she was seconds away from exploding in his lap with just the feel of his tongue on her and sets about restoring the balance by reaching between them to trace his length through thin pajama pants.

He was already hard but the second she put her hand on him, her fingers somehow tracing over his tip, everything narrowed to focus on the two of three inch gap between them that he wants gone!

He grins into the kiss as she tries to swallow his tongue, the rhythmic surge of muscle against muscle surrounded by warm, wet heat making it the most erotic kiss they have ever shared, taking them back to their first night together yet again. And her fingers are slipping under the waist of his pants as if she too had visions of this ending with her in his lap and hot messy thrusts driving them both crazy while still partially clothed.

But that's not what he wants.

She bobs in his lap, desperate for the friction of him pressing against her, every brush making him jerk up and he waits until she's spread out above him, flat to his chest, her lips hovering over his own as she tries to catch her breath, before he moves. Threading his leg between hers and rolling her across the bed, pinning her beneath him.

He catches the tail end of her moan in his mouth, drawing her hot breath in over his tongue and giving it back to her with the dizzying rush of his own. He wets her bottom lip when he sucks it into his mouth, drags his tongue over it, lets her skin throb and pulsate against him before surging into her suggestively, the thick force of his tongue touching at the softness within.

He can't stop kissing her.

Small nips along her lips and cheeks, neck and collarbone, he pauses there for a few seconds and lets himself get lost in the thud of her pulse against his tongue, the sounds she makes when he presses at it rhythmically with the tip, an undulating motion that makes her groan and hiss.

Her hips mimic the rolling wave of his tongue against her throat, soft swells and the gentle rise and fall of her body, bringing her into him, seeking more than the thoroughly devastating kiss but far too reluctant to let it go.

She swallows, thick and heavy, an arousing sound that pulls his mouth from its suction grip on the bone, and he chases the rumble from her chest, up the long line of her throat, kissing and nipping his way to her ear, her cheeks, the corner of her eye.

Slick with sweat his fingers slip and slide over her skin and when he feels her body rise up beneath him in response - her heels to bed lifting her closer - her hands wrapping around him and dragging across his back with a sharpness that makes him gasp, he slides a little lower down her body, tangles his fingers in the hem of her shorts and tugs them.

He feels her fingers do the same with his pants, digging in against the flesh of his ass before she uses her feet to kick the material down his legs. They end up tangled around his toes, her shorts and his pants and their feet tied up together.

She throws back her head and laughs when he growls, thudding into the pillows and pulling him down with her. She wants fast and now now now and celebratory explosions, he wants slow, timber cracking, white heat build up that leaves you thrumming with nothing more than ecstasy and the inability to remember your own name.

They want each other and he loves her laugh, loves her smile and he slides a hand between them, pressing apart her legs and smoothing over the skin on her upper thigh, feeling it dance against his fingertips. Her muscle quivers and how much she wants him is evident in the his fingers slide against her, wet and open and so ready.

He strokes slowly, with confidence, watching the light in her eyes change, a familiarity of touch chasing away the giggles and replacing them with heaving breath, the movement of her chest, nipples brushing his, making his fingers move faster, firmer, lower.

Touching at and tracing her lips slowly, toying with the desire that seeps from her with the pad of his thumb, fingers parting her so that she jumps in pleasure and shock, the burn of hot, wet trembling flesh enveloping him when he pushes inside. She surrounds his fingers, fluttering muscles pulling him in deeper.

The laughter gone.

She writhes against him, opens her eyes wide and inviting, obsidian, animalistic lust driving the whimper from her lips, forcing her up from the bed and her hips spreading apart, his name on the tip of her tongue. "Castle, now."

He reaches between them again, baring his weight away from her with the palm of his hand by her head and presses her thighs further apart. He laves himself in the wetness weeping from her, a soft stroke, hard touch that makes all the muscles in his stomach clench tight, amping up the craving to be inside her.

His fingers coil at her knee, laying her open, spreading her wide, wider still because when he brings them together he wants to feel every little bit of her, just as much as she's telling him she wants the same thing.

And there is nothing like those first few seconds when they meet, their bodies fitting together.

She contracts around him as he slides inside slowly, pushing deeper, deeper as she draws him in and he watches her eyes roll back, feels her nails dig into his hips. She reaches around to palm his ass, pull him closer but when that isn't enough she lifts her feet and uses her heels to do the same thing, wild and demanding. Kate wraps her long legs around him and traps him inside her as she shatters, coming hard as he begins to move, prolonging her pleasure and reaching for his own as his name becomes one long, drawn out, elongated sigh of contentment, delight and inevitability that he has been waiting to hear all night.