Disclaimer: Mrs. Claus had a stack of legal books fall on her head. Santa's with her in A&E!
Santa Baby
Chapter 12: You're My Inspiration
Monday December 24th – Sometime close to 11pm
Her face is glowing and her hair is seriously mussed; the kind of tousled effect that's only achievable by having quick and dirty sex on top of Richard Castle's shiny, satin comforter.
His chest is heaving, he's naked from the waist up, but he has a pair of Christmas pudding boxer shorts twisted around one ankle and inexplicably seems to be wearing Kate's red lace panties braceleted around his right wrist.
"Did we just…?" she gasps, trying to sit upright before she does any more damage to her hair.
"Break another record?" he pants, nodding at her and grinning. He reaches for her ankle, and tugs gently just to mess with her, making her slide helplessly across the quilt towards him.
Their faces and chests are flushed with the quick bout of exertion; the naked hunger they just gave into, despite the fact that they're now seriously short on time.
"How long have you been holding that back?" he scoffs, running his finger up the inside of her thigh. Because she just came in like forty-five seconds flat, and managed to get him so turned on by her desperation to have him that he broke the sound barrier at forty-seven point three.
"Since you fed me that damn oyster and then started running your fingers up and down my thigh…rather like you're doing right now. Rick, stop!" she squeals, grabbing at his hand. "We have to get up. Now! And…"
She stumbles off the bed and into the bathroom before he can touch her up anymore.
He hears her exclamation without seeing her.
"Oh crap! I seriously need a shower, and…Castle, get in here," she calls out, her insistent tone dragging him off the bed and into the bathroom, tripping over his own underwear as he goes.
"What is this?" she asks, pointing at her left breast and glaring at him in the mirror, trying to aim for stern despite her deliciously sex-rumpled appearance and utter nakedness.
"Ah, could be teeth marks. Best case…I just sucked a little too hard," he explains matter-of-factly.
"You…you sucked too hard? What about my dress for tomorrow? My…my…jeez, Castle. My top for tonight is…" she splutters, touching the rather vicious-looking, red mark tentatively.
"We're going to church, Kate. Not a hooker's convention. How low cut is this top?" he asks, eyes bugging out at the possibilities. Because he's already seen her dressed as a hooker, and shit if it isn't one of the hottest damn things he's ever seen.
"Just…get in the shower with me, and…be helpful," she warns, narrowing her eyes at him.
"That's my punishment?" he queries, puzzling. "To share a shower with you?" he laughs.
"No. Your punishment is having to watch me wash myself and not be able to touch…except for my back, which you will scrub with a loofah. Now hand me my shower cap!"
Kate does what she can with her hair, but it's a bit of a lost cause, despite the large floral shower cap she insisted on wearing, while Castle hummed 'Little Bo Peep has lost her sheep' under his breath just to mock her.
"Ahh!" she rants, tossing down her brush on the vanity and hurrying into the bedroom.
"Hey," says Castle softly, catching her arm. "What's up?"
"We absolutely cannot be late for this, Castle. We're meeting Lanie and Javi and Jenny and Ryan. Your mother and Alexis are joining us, and they've already seen my hair. I cannot show up looking like we just had sex in the back of your car right outside the church," she finishes, looking flushed and flustered and maybe just a little panicked.
"You will look beautiful, Kate, like always," he tells her, massaging knots as hard as shell casings out of her shoulders. "Now, why don't you wear your hair up? So elegant, and it accentuates your beautiful neck. And besides, I have one gift I want you to open before we go."
"Castle," she moans, shaking her head. "What have you done, we said…?"
"It's tradition. One gift…"
"Yes, before bed. Not church," she shakes her head, biting her lip, still holding onto him.
"Pah! That's just…timing," he says, waving his hand dismissively behind her back.
So Kate re-applies her make-up, keeping her touch lighter tonight, less heavy on the liquid liner since they're going to Midnight Mass, and then she dresses as she had planned, hoping her shirt will conceal the red mark that seems in no hurry to disappear from the inner curve of her left breast.
The black pantsuit is brand new, bought many months ago as a possible outfit for Ryan and Jenny's wedding. It's been hanging in her closet at home, waiting for the perfect excuse to give it an audience. Tonight just seemed like that night.
The cut is sharp and masculine; skinny cigarette pants and a tailored tuxedo jacket in a lightweight wool crepe, the jacket adorned by silk satin lapels. The lining is a vibrant purple - her favorite color – and the blouse she bought to wear underneath is a crisp, white, wing-collared tuxedo shirt; cut for a woman's body, closely fitted, with a pleated bib front and tiny black buttons. The whole effect is stunningly sexy, and seems to add to Kate's overall impression of supermodel height; her legs rising endlessly from the floor once she adds black platform heels.
"Holy cannoli!" exclaims Castle, leaning on the bedroom doorframe with eyes of wonder. "You might just be…no scratch the might. You are definitely, the sexiest thing I have ever seen, Katherine Beckett."
Kate smiles shyly, fussing with the neckline of her shirt, three buttons or four left open? She's still not sure.
He's by her side in an instant, helping her to fasten up just one more button, the effect just slightly more demure, though there is absolutely no way to tame this woman's sexuality tonight.
"Helping me put clothes back on, Castle?" she teases, trying to remember to breathe as she watches him fumble the tiny button, so heart-stoppingly close. "How novel," she grins, feeling herself blush, his cologne making her giddy.
"I look at you, standing here tonight, almost towering over me in those heels," he jokes, to a nervous giggle from Kate, "and I feel as if I must be the luckiest, happiest guy alive. You take my breath away, Kate Beckett, and I don't imagine that's ever going to stop."
Kate lowers her lashes, clutching at his hand, and then she presses a gentle kiss to his cheek.
"Feeling's mutual, you know," she says, nudging his nose with her own, words just loud enough for him to hear, as she tugs lightly on the front of his dress shirt, her thumb making soft, tender sweeps beneath his right eye.
And her words are the absolute truth. Castle, standing framed in that doorway, did take her breath away. He looks tall and masculine and unspeakably handsome in the dark navy suit he's wearing, a festive red dress shirt heightening the color his own excitement has given to his cheeks. He looks healthy and happy, well rested. Well cared for, in fact. And she's proud that she can claim some small part in that.
Gone is the haunted look from both their eyes, the grief and the weight that their secrets placed on weary shoulders, since the night she took her courage in both hands and gave herself over to him. That truly was the best decision she ever made: choosing to trust him completely. They've never looked back.
Castle brings his hand out from behind his back, as Kate gathers herself, leaning in to kiss him just one more time before they have to leave.
A dark purple box is nestled in one hand, a silver ribbon tied around the outside, the edges of the ribbon trimmed in purple too.
Kate stares at the box for whole seconds, until Castle reaches for her hand, turns it palm up and plants the box in the center of it, closing her fingers around the gift.
"Open it, Kate," he urges, pressing it towards her. "We don't have much time," he adds, quickly checking his watch.
She sits on the bed, sinks down really, a little overwhelmed, and then she begins the task of unwrapping the first Christmas gift her boyfriend has ever given her.
When the lid of the box comes off, there's a dark purple velvet box nestled inside, and she withdraws it with shaking fingers. Castle is sitting beside her now, silent and watchful.
She strokes her index finger over the velvet lid just once, and then takes a deep breath. When she opens it, with a snap of the hinges, she's glad she did, because the jewels inside take her breath away.
Lying against a velvet pad are two long, drop earrings; an elegant row of interlinked, round brilliant diamonds, seven in each earring, all the exact same size, set in an articulated, platinum setting. They snake when she holds them up, shimming from side-to-side, and they will move just as freely when suspended from Kate's ears.
She's speechless, that much is obvious from the shallowness of her breathing and the rapid pound of her blood, though her shining eyes and reverent touch say it all.
So Castle liberates the first earring from the box, and gently tilts her jaw, inserting the small post into her earlobe and fixing the little butterfly back in place for her. Then he leans back to admire his own handiwork.
Kate manages the second one by herself, so Castle hurries to the bathroom to fetch his small shaving mirror.
Her hand flies to her throat when she sees the two earrings sparkling beneath the curling tendrils of hair that she left floating loose, escaping the chignon she hopes works with her outfit. The diamonds shiver and glint, casting tiny rainbows of light against the pale, flawless skin of her neck.
And Castle was right; wearing her hair up with this outfit and his beautiful gift is definitely the way to go. The monochrome of her stark black suit and sharp white shirt are the perfect backdrop for these elegant, stunning earrings. She can hardly tear her eyes away from their twinkling majesty.
"Oh, Castle," she says, blindly reaching for his hand, but only managing to grip onto his wrist. "These are…beautiful. So very beautiful. Thank you. But you shouldn't have."
"Hey, someone mentioned jewelry a little while back," he winks, "and what my girl wants…"
"She didn't mean these, just for the record," she says, continuing to admire her reflection regardless, twisting her head this way and that to catch the light and watch the earrings sway with the movement of her head.
"Kate, I'm only going to remind you of this once. But the truth is that Nicki Heat only exists because of you. And nothing I could ever give you would make up for the thrill you've given me as a writer and as your partner over the last four years. So, please," he says, standing and offering her his arm, "shall we go to church?"
A/N: Some of you may have seen KB's bathroom set, complete with frou-frou shower cap. If not, the photo is on ABC's website, disguised among photos of her kitchen. Church with the gang is next, I promise. Liv
