WARNING: Rated M.
Fantasy Fridays
Chapter Twenty-One: Under Wraps Part I
Tap tap. Tap tap. Tap -
"Castle, wouldja cut it out?" Beckett hisses.
Castle's pen freezes in midair, hovering over the sharp edge of her desk.
"Sorry," he says, and lays the pen down without a sound.
Beckett huffs and returns to her paperwork. Her forehead is resting on one palm, and her hair is gathered in a messy bun at the nape of her neck.
He stares at the tender skin beneath her ear, glowing in the light of her desk lamp, and he wonders if she tastes just a little salty after the push-ups she did ten minutes ago. She's as restless as he is. Before she can be reinstated she has to spend two weeks on desk-duty, take a few tests the HR people have shoved on her to re-qualify, and do a couple of online training courses she missed while she was away.
She hasn't done anything physical on-duty since her reinstatement, hasn't even seen the outside of the precinct since solving the case involving Castle's number one fan, and even then she wasn't actually on the job. She hasn't chased anyone, hasn't knocked down a door, hasn't even walked up a flight of stairs to get to a witness' apartment. As a result, her trips to the in-house gym have doubled, and every hour or so she just suddenly stands up, heads for the pull-up bar in the copy room doorway or drops and does a set of crunches.
Since Castle's not the type to exercise in dress clothes, or without a guarantee that his hair will stay in place, he's been resorting to fidgety little tics to get through the day. And going out for food, and drinks, and whatever else he thinks might help her out.
He tears his eyes away from his fiancé's very tempting earlobe and stares down at the pen.
It takes a tremendous effort not to pick it back up again. His legs twitch, so he crosses them. Uncrosses them. Crosses them again.
The elevator doors open and he hears the familiar sound of their boys bickering, coming back in from the case they're working - without Beckett.
Esposito drops his jacket on his chair and stops mid-laugh when he sees the exasperated frown on Beckett's face and the completely bored one on Castle's.
"What's with the faces?" he asks.
Castle shakes his head in warning.
Ryan leans over his computer. "Aw, come on you two, you'll be back on the streets in a couple of days. Besides, it wasn't very fun out there today."
"Bro, how can you say that? We got to interview a real, live - "
"Shhh!" Ryan shushes.
"A real live what? What?" Castle asks, suddenly straight in his chair.
"Nothing, man, nothing."
"Tell me, please tell me," Castle wheedles. "I haven't done anything all day -"
"You can say that again," Beckett mutters.
"- except for being a supportive, kind, and lovely fiancé, who refused to leave his partner to do the paperwork by herself," he finishes, giving Kate a glare.
"Castle, I told you a dozen times you could go home," she snaps.
"Oooooh, shit," Esposito says, backing off. "Mom and Dad are in a mood. Luckily, we are off the clock, so I think we're just going to let you two work this out."
He and Ryan gather their stuff and slink off towards the elevators.
"Don't go to bed angry, okay?" Ryan calls.
When they've gone, Beckett tosses her pen down and flings herself back in her chair.
He gives her a moment, hoping that she'll say she's had enough and wants to go home.
"Come on, Castle. I can't handle any more of this today," she says, weary and raw.
Castle leaps up and grabs her jacket, holding it eagerly for her to slip into. She does, moving slowly, and it breaks his heart a little to see her so frustrated, so tired. She can work cases that keep them up at all hours, can get to a crime scene at four a.m. and that gorgeous, fearsome mind of hers will be revved, her body primed for anything, but a week of paperwork she's fading.
In the elevator, she scrubs her face with both hands, then leans her head on his shoulder. It's the first time today she's shown him any affection, really, and he lets out a breath. The worst of the storm is over.
"Sorry, Castle. The paperwork got to me."
"Sorry I was tapping the pen, and … all the other stuff," he says sheepishly.
"This isn't us," she says, and his chest constricts. "What's wrong with us?"
"Nothing, Kate. Just too much paperwork. I'll stay home tomorrow, get out of your hair like you asked."
"No, I didn't mean - no, don't. Come in. Please. You make it better." He tosses her a skeptical look. "You do," she assures him. "Just don't forget your charger, and download a couple of new games or something. But if you lay a finger on that pen, you're out, okay mister?"
"Okay," he beams.
But on the ride home, her mouth is a thin line of concentration, and she isn't hearing half the stuff he's saying.
He was going to remind her that tomorrow's Friday - that it's her turn to share a fantasy - but he bites his tongue and waits for her to work through whatever she's working through.
Kate lies in bed, staring up at the ceiling in the dark.
Somewhere in the last two weeks, she's let the stress of riding the desk wear the shine off of coming back. Wear the shine off of being in New York, of being with Castle. And that just isn't acceptable to her.
She searches her mind, replaying events and conversations, and she thinks she finally has a diagnosis.
They're acting like an old married couple. They sort of always have seemed like one, bickering from day one, but that had the gloss of flirtation laid over it, and every time she picked a fight with him, her pulse would thump to attention, her stomach would tighten. She liked it. For five years, she would almost go so far as to say it turned her on.
But now they're really acting like an old married couple, who get on each other's nerves and snap out things they wouldn't have said in the early days of their relationship.
It doesn't scare her, really, because what they have is too intense to be broken by a little bout of annoyance.
Their trip abroad had been a dream, but they had been together every waking moment, and she knows that can take a toll on even the most solid couple. She could set a clock by the amount of days out at the cabin she could spend before her parents got in each other's pockets and had a row.
She thought work would be exactly the same as it had been before DC, but because the week has been full of paperwork, it's been a shock to both of their systems.
Maybe she should let him stay home tomorrow. Protect him from her grumpiness. The last thing she wants is to say something that will hurt him. He's tough - he puts up with her eye rolls and her glares, but she knows deep down he's always questioning himself.
Her phone lights up on the bedside table, and she spares it a quick glance to make sure it's not work. The ringer is on for phone calls, but notification sounds are turned off.
It's midnight, and a reminder for 'FF' is on the screen.
Crap.
She owes him something good. She mentally runs through the list of fantasies she still has yet to enact.
Oh.
She might have the perfect thing.
Maybe what they need is a little trip back in time.
She turns over, scoots in so her chest, stomach and thighs curve around Castle's bare back.
He mutters something nonsensical and wiggles his booty back against her.
She smiles in the dark.
Yeah, she's got the perfect fantasy for getting them back on track at work.
She starts the day off exactly like she did a year ago. Her first day back at work after the suspension. Her first day back at work in a real relationship with Castle. After sleeping with him every night, banging his brains out all summer long.
Since the day they met, he's always made her feel more alive, more aware of her body, more appreciative of every hour of every day, but that summer - and the early days back at the precinct when they were still a secret - she'd never felt more healthy. Her blood seemed to rush through her body more smoothly, and every breath she took was more pure.
And to have him there, working beside her, not a soul aware of their relationship…it had been intoxicating. Sure, she felt a little guilty, didn't like to admit it, but it was fun having a secret, torrid affair with her co-worker. It wasn't really an affair, she guesses, because even the word affair implies a sort of shortness, an end, and she knew after their first kiss she never wanted them to end.
So she wakes him up by sliding down under the sheets, finding him firm and ready with the heat of her mouth. She'd done it then to calm her nerves, or maybe to get one last carefree round in before the long stretch of a day at work with no touching.
He wakes immediately, groaning his appreciation, and he tosses the duvet back so he can watch. She smiles around him, reveling in the sleepy scent of him, the warm, sticky taste of him. He's got the most impressive morning wood, really, and she makes a note to take advantage of it more often. She pulls back to nuzzle in the crease of his leg, to give his balls that little caress that makes him jolt, and then she engulfs him with her mouth again. He actually tastes smooth and shiny, even though she knows those aren't really tastes.
She quickens her pace, hollows her cheeks and then works at him with her tongue, and he starts to shake under her. She presses her palms down on his lower belly, just above his cock, relentless in her efforts as she feels him getting closer and closer.
When he comes in her mouth, she swallows him down, eyes locked on his.
"Fuck," he breathes, limp and flushed and sprawled out like a chiseled god beneath her.
Kate licks her lips.
"Right, sleepyhead. Time to get ready for work."
Something flickers in his eyes. He's got a good memory for words, and she's pretty sure that's what she said last year. He'll catch on soon enough.
They shower together, and his busy hands keep finding their way to their favorite places on her body.
He hums as he washes his hair, and the ease between them just radiates. It's such a monumental shift from yesterday, and she can sense his confusion, and his quiet pleasure, his reluctance to ask her what changed. She'd been on autopilot, and luckily all it took was a quick mental slap to get her back on track. She feels a little bit proud of herself, because she imagines marriage is going to be filled with moments like these, and she reckons she might be really good at it. Being married to him.
Castle runs the cool bar of soap over her stomach, the warmth of his wide palm soothing and slick on her skin. He works up a lather, running over her thighs, around her hips, up the expanse of her back. He gathers enough in his hands and sets the bar aside, then slides his palms up to cover her breasts. Her head drops back on his shoulder, and she basks blissfully in the soft, tingling pleasure of his care.
And when his fingertips slide down between her legs, she shivers. His right hand meanders down her front, drawing slow circles over her slippery clit, then his left hand joins from behind her to push inside her. As usual, having him in her mouth made her wet, but the water has rinsed some of it away, and the rawness of having less lube makes his fingers feel massive. Thick. It doesn't take her long at all to tip over the lazy edge of the morning.
Her knees give out and he catches her around the waist.
"I love Fridays," Castle murmurs as he peels her wet hair away from her cheek.
"You're going to love this Friday even more, because that wasn't even my fantasy."
"Oh?" he asks, and she laughs at the innocent excitement in his voice.
Later, she stands in front of the mirror in their closet - everything is organized, his and hers now - and puts on the patterned floral shirt she wore a year ago. She studies herself in the mirror, and when she takes it off to put on a white button down, she can almost see the light bulb turn on.
"Mmm. Sexy," he purrs, coming in behind her.
She lays her arms over his, swaying with him.
"I'm starting to get an idea of what this fantasy of yours might be," he says.
"Oh?" She smiles at their reflection.
"You want to go to work and pretend like no one knows we're sleeping together."
To be continued…
A/N: This was a very unexpected two-parter! Just have a lot more to cover. :) Sorry for the split, I would try to finish it tonight but I've had a lot of real-life work lately (ugh, how inconvenient) and I'm too knackered to keep up my nocturnal writing habits.
Happy Friday!