Twenty Four.
Her keys barely make it into the lock the other side of the door before her mouth is sliding over his. The darkness of her apartment thrown off rapidly as she slams on the lights, eager to see him, have him see her. And her hands are hot and forceful either side of his face as she all but drags him into her home.
No, screw that, she does drag him, pulling, tugging, yanking him with her as she walks backwards. Keeping them connected with a near death grip to his ears. Mouths locking, fusing...tasting.
He tastes like certainty and yes please now...
Like heat and fire and Kate begs at her mind to just shut up and enjoy it.
The stuttering trace of his tongue across her lower lip is all it takes to ensnare her. She gives in with a sweeping roll of her hips and shoulders, that lift her into him like a wave. Surging together, every inch of her body undulates against him, closing in on him before she's in retreat...she's hardly withdrawn to suck in a breath when she's diving back for more.
The feelings racing through her override everything else, the world at large suppressing itself when she caves into his chest, drawn in by his touch and taste...his smell when she inhales deeply against his skin, never breaking the connection...the bond of their lips.
Too good, too warm and perfect.
He presses between her thighs as they walk backwards, step after palpitating step, their bodies tangling, falling into perfect alignment. Legs and arms and tongues wrapping and weaving, until they are one quivering mish-mash of joining flesh.
Perfect motion as they move together.
Kate's hands slide through his hair, silk against her skin, her nails catching the muscle of his neck before her moan is reverberating against his lips and around his open mouth. She takes and tastes, deviant need so strong, like nothing before, like nothing tonight, maybe like nothing again.
Because if this is how they come together every time, and her mouth swallowing down his groan tells her it will be, how will they ever survive it?
How will they ever do anything but this?
If this is before and pleasure, true honest open pleasure comes later, how will she ever do anything but spend the rest of eternity in his bed? His arms?
She smiles around his lips, who the fuck cares? They are so good at it already, if this is her eternity...it might as well start now!
Every brush of his tongue steals the breath she hasn't taken yet, her heart exploding, frantic, hammering and harsh, intense and exquisite. A thesaurus of words running through her head, pounding loudly when he clutches at her tight, letting her know he feels exactly the same.
Then words and sounds and everything falls away, steadily replaced by the movement of his fingers.
Castle's thumbs both glance across her cheekbones, his nose pressing into the smooth skin of her face as he inhales...inhales again, not letting any of the breath escape as he absorbs her, and his eyes squeeze shut tighter. The scent of Kate floods his system with an ecstatic sense of freedom, indulgence, privilege ...
He still can't believe he's here doing this with her. That he gets to be the one to see her this exposed and wanton, delicious...Except, his eyes are still clamping tight together enjoying the feel of her body, so he isn't really seeing her, and he wants to so badly.
Forcing his eyes open, he breaks them apart, his lips wet and aching at the loss of her kiss, panting as his forehead falls against hers, holding her to him. "Kate, do you have a first aid kit?
She pulls back and stares at him quizzically, eyes wide with shock, lips quirking, "How rough do you think this is going to get Castle?"
She's close enough to feel the rumble of laughter bubble up through his chest, but it never makes it past his lips because the spark of mirth, the way she baits him, awakens something dark and needy and he crashes back down over her.
Unforgiving in his quest to devour her.
Because she's funny and wonderful and just...all the things he ever imagined she would be...but so much more, and teasing him in the midst of a kiss that is leading them nowhere but her bed.
Or her couch, shower, kitchen counter, the floor, somewhere, anywhere now.
Beautiful, scarily hot, intelligent Beckett. Loving, kind, compassionate Kate and she's pulling at him, tugging him even as he steers her towards a destination he has no idea of, a room he's never been in before and that's wrong because she's hurt.
She skipped treatment at the ambulance somehow convincing or ignoring or maybe she just gave someone that look and they let it go, her tenacity too much a force to be reckoned with so they didn't even try.
But he will try, and he will succeed, even if it means taking charge and dominating their kiss just a little bit.
Castle licks at her bottom lip, remembering her reactions to it, knows she likes it already, and he moves his hot heavy tongue in thick swirling motion over the wet dry line of her mouth.
She clings to him tighter, desirable but not the desired effect...well yes...no no...he mumbles against her lip, calling her a tease, a magician, a wonder...something, he has no idea.
Oh.
He really, truly has no idea.
She told him he wouldn't...god she was not wrong!
No idea. Not one single teenie tiny clue. Her hands move and she palms the front of his jeans as her fingers start to toy with his belt and, damn her, she's winning again.
He changes tactic and bombards her with sensation, hands roaming, lips moving, tongue and skin and breath all claiming her in infinitesimal amounts. And before she even realises, he holds absolutely everything.
And he doesn't stop, walking her backwards, his bandaged hand soft against her face, thumb and fingers tracing the heat of her flushing cheek, whilst the other ripples down her side, cupping her waist before lifting her top.
Kate's skin is still damp under his hand as it splays wide, thumb over her hip until he is caressing the small of her back, fingers tripping over the vertebrae of her spine. In and out of the bony protrusions and plump, tight muscle, surging against her, rolling in rhythm and hearing her groan with each press of his fingers.
Massage...later there will definitely be a massage...if she makes noises like this just from the firm and devoted rotation of his fingers, yes...massage. Kate's body naked and spread out beneath him, his hands opening wide to cover the length of her back, her ass and the backs of her legs.
Trailing high, sweeping low, sliding under...dipping in.
But now...
"First. Aid. Kit.?" He asks pointedly, stopping their movement in the middle of her living room, pulling his lips away from hers, nudging against her face with the tip of his nose, her mouth still moving over his jaw.
More kisses.
More kisses, she wants them, craves them, and when he doesn't immediately and willingly give them up, she takes them from him. Lips moving over his pulse, his jaw, kneading the skin just shy of his bottom lip and the edge of his mouth.
She has to have him, has to...and there is nothing holding her back anymore, nothing...nope...not one thing...
His hands squeeze, forceful and hard and perfect, but not what she wants because he's keeping her at arms length, cold air slipping between the burning heat of their joining bodies.
Kate pauses, sucks in a breath and looks up. He holds her gaze with unfaltering self assurance, rebellious, persistent and Kate knows that look...he's not backing down.
"Mmm? Bathroom." Kate grumbles, he's not getting away with this for much longer. But she gives in again, not caring if it means his mouth will stop wasting time with words and collide with hers.
It's almost startling, how she has never wanted anything quite so much as she wants his mouth...on her.
Anywhere...everywhere.
Kate parts her lips, moving to take him in again, feeling like steam is rising and hissing from the achingly empty hollow. She's on fire with it, but just as her lips hover over his, so close to getting what she wants, Castle stills her movement.
Her eyes slam shut, her mouth open, soft pink skin reflecting the light, against his waiting lips and she feels them move when he speaks.
"Where?" The word leaves his mouth dark and oppressive, adhering like syrup to her tongue when he breaths, sticky and cloying against her skin.
Kate lets her hands drape around his neck, her head falling into the curve of his throat, trying to catch her breath against his chest.
He's stubborn, she knew that, she can see evidence of it everyday in his ability to stand by her side, but she has never truly appreciated how controlled he is. He can put her first and hold himself back, and that just...does something to her insides.
Melts her, scalds her, leaves her focusing on just how and where he's going to hold himself back from her next. Kate lifts away from his chest aching, always aching at the loss of contact, but she finds his eyes and lets him see, in whatever way she can, she knows exactly how good it's going to be.
That she can't wait for it any longer.
But she will, for him.
He has rules?
She loves that he has rules, has focus when she doesn't, one or other of them will keep the path clear, their destination never wavering as they take turns giving in or taking charge.
Partners in pulsation, in practise, in touch and delirium.
Tingling in anticipation, Kate moulds herself around his body, her weight falling into his waiting hands as she cups his face. Just a second of quiet in the rip roaring heat before she presses her forehead to his cheek, kisses the edge of his mouth and growls reaching for his hand. Tugging him after her as they cross the apartment heading for her bathroom.
She will do it his way now if it means she gets it her way soon.
Kate doesn't register what he does to the cuts on her legs as she sits on the cold counter, shorts pulling tight, the denim riding high against her hips. But the icy cloth over her knee stings for a second before she's lost in him, the brush of leather when he moves.
Pain be damned.
The feel of his fingers over her calf as he steadily unzips her boot and draws it from her foot has her pressing her lips together to keep from moaning. He guides her heel to rest across his thigh, stepping in closer and forcing Kate to bend her knee, angle her leg just a little more.
Kate arches her back, humming when her bare shoulders find the cool glass. His large bandage covered hand sliding against her thigh, touches her sensitive skin, curving around the back of her knee to hold her still. The other, just the tiniest bit less dextrous, drops the cloth back into the sink, squeezes out the water and washes away the blood and dirt.
Kate watches the wrinkles of concern given life and expand across his brow, seeping into his skin, and realises she must have winced or hissed, something because he suddenly starts to be even more gentle, more tender than he is already being.
If it's possible to come apart, heart and soul cracking wide, whilst balanced on the sink in your bathroom, she does. White hot waves in evidence of the force of his love catch her unawares, leave her swaying, tipping back towards the mirror.
He switched hands, trading one with the other to stop the dressing getting wet. But it keeps brushing against her skin, awakening her flesh to his healing touch...fuck she's seriously getting aroused by his bandaged hand and she would huff and roll her eyes...the old Kate would probably shove him away.
But no more.
All Kate can think about is unwrapping it, setting his fingers free and pulling his knuckles to her lips, pressing the balm of her grateful kisses to his skin...before she unwraps the rest of him.
She focuses on his face as her body vibrates. The heavenly curl of his tongue over his lip when he concentrates. The muscles of his jaw working hard and tighter than she likes, telling her he's holding back, restraining himself this time for fear of hurting her.
Kate wants to kiss away the worry and the trepidation, her hand steady as she imagines undoing the binding and letting her mouth rest hot and open on the juicy meat of his palm.
Kissing the pulse at his wrist...soft skin at the crease of his elbow, his bicep...her eyes drift to the expanse of his waiting neck, visible now his shirt has loosened... her tongue doused with anguish, she yearns to taste it. She rolls the throbbing muscle inside her own mouth, hot saliva rushing around it, heating her lips.
Her fingers find the jacket again, soft and supple, almost too much but so good and she holds onto it. Kate lets her fingers drift over the stitching, running the seams, up and down his arms unable to stay still.
Her head drops down, almost touching his chest as she holds herself back from the overwhelming urge to just...jump him.
Something soft presses hard against her knee, sore but oh...it feels good too, "There." He says quietly, pride in his voice and his open palms running along the back of her calf before he looks up. "All better, sorry if I..."
Kate's head snaps up, both hands grabbing at fistfuls of his jacket, his shirt, his skin. Anything they can reach to pull him closer.
She doesn't hide behind a kiss this time, her legs winding around his waist as she hoists herself up against him, wrapping around him, making him catch her. Instead, she holds him firm, her hands either side of his face so she can look into his eyes and breathe her intent across his lips.
"Now!"
He quakes, her arms surrounding him, his lifting her "Bed..."
She shakes her head, and he freezes, his eyes dropping low to find hers, confusion and desperation mixing through with a myriad of expressions that scream the same thing... please don't run away.
She can't...she won't. No more running, no more hiding, but she needs to be Kate when they do this. When they are intimate for the first time without prying eyes, without cops and criminals, bikes and barmen, fully and wholly herself when she lets him break through the last barrier that separates them. She has to be herself and not the leftover traces of whoever she was pretending to be tonight, this week, too long.
The truth of everything will spill free in the one place she allows herself to give in, break down and rebuild.
Be whole again.
The place where she luxuriates in the feel of her own skin, warm and smooth under her hands, the sensation of water, lapping and licking, burning.
Everything hot.
She needs Castle like no other to help her wash it all away. Remove the dirt and the grime, the smell of smoke that stains her skin, the burn of Logan's eyes as they touched...she wants it all gone. So they can come together, finally, properly...just them.
"Shower." She answers simply, and in stunned disbelief he blinks, before his mouth descends again.