Chapter 37: And yet with you
He pushes her back upright, balancing her, never letting go, and stands in one smooth movement, pulling her hard in against him. One hand slips down over the curve of her ass, holding her pressed into his hips, the heat and weight he knows she wants to be close to; one moves to the nape of her neck and fixes her in place so he can slant his mouth across her and let her feel everything she does to him, everything he wants to do with her. Mine. All mine. He's never so much as wanted to be, never mind been, possessive about a woman before, even the two he married, has always been happy to quit without tears at any stage. Even with Kyra, he never had this visceral response, this primitive reflex to have and to hold. But he knows that this undiscovered possessive streak will need to be lost right now, because the chances of Kate Beckett allowing him to exercise it outside some very defined circumstances (such as they're enjoying currently) are zero. No protection.
She's moving backwards, to the bedroom, given the direction of travel, which is a decision that she's perfectly content to have made for her. Controlled, delicate teasing has its place, but she's ready for something a little more definitive now. Very much so. Especially as she hasn't missed the pressure he's exerting to hold her as close against him as he can. She shimmies a little at just the right angle and is rewarded with a sharp jerk and muted groan. When she wriggles again, sliding over the hard weight, he stops walking her back and swings her up into his arms.
"No, Beckett. You don't get to set the pace tonight. I do. Now you'll have to wait. Be patient." He kisses her some more, light and delicate, teasing and tasting and tantalising, until he drops her gently on his bed and sits next to her. "Do you remember what I said on the phone?" Her eyes are wide, pupils dilated. She does. He runs a hand over her body, feels the shiver. "I think you look best here, in my bedroom. I think I'll just keep you here." He remembers that her shirt and pants are mostly in the middle of his living room, which is possibly a little more information than he wants to give to Alexis or his mother. "I'm just going to get your clothes. Don't move. When I come back, we'll play."
When he comes back, she's where Castle wants to see her, any time, all the time, lying across his bed in take-me-I'm-yours silk with a come-and get-me-if-you-dare expression. He leans on the shut door, watching her watching him, making it clear that even just running his eyes over her is another step down the path of slow, controlled arousal.
"Going to stand there all night, Castle?" The sultry voice trickles down his spine, pooling some way south of his navel. Come hither doesn't even begin to cover the effect her ripped-silk bedroom voice produces. But he's got this game, he's in control. For now. He's in no doubt that if she wanted to she could reduce him to incoherence in seconds. And however much he's pretending he's in charge, however much they're playing this game, the minute she wants to stop, they'll stop.
"Just looking. I'll get there when you're ready." She raises an eyebrow. "I thought you remembered what I said on the phone. You might be naked…" He trails off on the last word, expecting her to take the hint.
"But on the phone," she lets the sultry voice drip over him, "you'd undressed me. You haven't finished." She rests back on the pillows. She's happy to let him take charge, tonight.
"No, I haven't. So I'll deal with that now." He comes across the room, big and dangerously focused, and sits back down next to her. He doesn't touch her bra or panties, nor the heels she's still wearing. Instead, he leans in and strokes the side of her face, runs his finger over her wet lips. "Open, Beckett." He slips his finger into her mouth, and after she's twined her tongue over it slides it slowly out and down between her breasts. She catches her breath. When he brings it back to her lips he doesn't have to ask a second time. This time his finger traces under the lace of her bra. By the third time she's panting, as he touches ever closer to the sensitive peaks of her nipples. And then he stops, and bends over her to kiss her hard and fierce. When he rises he runs his hands over her breasts, palming hard enough that she arches and pushes against him, letting him undo the clasp at her back. His fingers feather forwards again, bringing the silk out from under her, and slip under the loosened fabric to stroke and slide and roll across her till she's beginning to move and make the sexy little noises that he loves to cause. "Like that? Shall I do it some more?" She writhes a little. "Use your words, Beckett."
"Yes. Please. More." By the time he glides the straps down her arms and drops the bra over the side of the bed more has become a constant refrain. When he moves down to run his fingers along the top edge of her panties, flicker them over the thin silk, never where she wants him to be, she's gasping for breath, whimpering occasionally. He can see the dampness darkening the silk to the same shade as her eyes: desire obvious in both. He slips his fingers lower under the fabric, and she arches against him, trying to align herself to his touch.
"Stay still, Beckett. It's not time yet." She moans in frustration. "I won't hurry, however much you want me to." He starts to remove her panties, sliding them down, only touching the outer line of her legs, following with light kisses, further and further away from where he ought to be. By the time he eases them over her heels she's desperate. "Just stay like that." He just wants to look at her, naked except for high heels, wet, and thoroughly excited. "Yes," he rasps. "Just how, and where, you look best." He picks up one foot, takes off the shoe, lifts it to him and kisses the jut of her ankle, places it back down so that she's slightly opened. She squirms under his hot gaze, knowing he can see what he's doing to her. It excites her even more. He divests her of the other shoe, and puts her foot back down so she's wider apart. "Stay like that. Wait for me." She watches him undress, not letting her touch him. Every so often he traces a finger over her stomach, gradually finishing lower and lower. When he comes to rest beside her, skin to skin, he draws one final delicate line from navel down to finish between her legs and flicker over her, and the sensation is enough for her hips to jerk against his hand.
"Castle. More."
"Not yet. I'm going to kiss you for a while." She bites her lip and sure enough she's shivering with need. He can see her laid out for him to play with. He knows he's pleasing her. He swoops on her mouth, plunges in, dominates as she brings hands around his neck, and then his back, to try to pull him in, have his body on hers. She wants his size and weight and mass, to be pressed down under his bulk, to have him hot and heavy between her legs. He isn't giving her any of that. She's panting and frantic and not being given what she wants, and it's driving her wild. He's swallowing her moans as she makes them, starts to move round to nip her ear, lick on her neck where it makes her writhe, tiny nips and wet kisses till he reaches the spot where her neck meets her shoulder and bites, sucking, marking her. "Just for tonight, you're mine. Say it, Beckett. Say that you're mine."
"Tonight." He bites again, and she moans louder, nails biting into him.
"You like this, don't you? But you want me to do more, don't you, Beckett? You want me to stroke your breasts and taste you like I did when you were standing in front of me. You're ready for it, aren't you? Ask nicely, Beckett."
"Please. Please."
"Just like on the phone, Beckett. Put your hands on the headboard and don't move them. If you move them, I'll stop." She does as she's told. It's shockingly arousing, to do what she's told. Once in a way. She can feel Castle's reaction to her with every move. He's so good at seduction, the games she wants to play tonight. Everything he's saying and doing is bringing her closer to the edge. She's not sure that she'll last much longer. When he starts to glide large hands over her breasts her hips roll and it's all she can do to keep her hands above her head on the headboard. When he puts his mouth on her she starts to moan again, unable to stay still until he holds her in place. She flexes and arches against him, trying to bring one leg up over his to get the friction he wants, but the way he's holding her leaves her completely unable to. She's mewling, squirming, pleading, so close to undone but not quite there. And then he bites gently over one nipple and she screams.
"Like that?" He repeats it on the other side and she screams again. "Keep your hands where they are." He's got plans. By the time he's finished, she'll not just have forgotten her own name, she won't be able to make her body move from his bed till tomorrow. Although if she says she wants to go home, after, he'll ring the car service himself rather than risk losing her again.
"I'm not just talking on the phone now." She can't answer. The predatory purr is just too much. He's still stroking, little rolls and pinches, watching her reduced to complete incoherence before he's even gone below her waist. This Beckett is also very seriously sexy. Keeping himself from simply spreading her wide and thrusting as deep into her as he can go is becoming more and more difficult. But he's got plans.
"Do I need to help you keep your hands in place?" She shakes her head. Speaking is too complicated. "Are you sure?" She shakes again. "Good. Obedience is another virtue, Beckett, along with patience." She's now unbelievably aroused. She'd never have imagined that the pronunciation of obedience in that velvet voice could have perched her on the edge of oblivion. Her hands on the headboard are the only thing keeping her in reality. She needs him to touch her properly.
He puts two fingers on her mouth. "Open for me, Beckett." When he withdraws them, he trails them down her stomach and stops just before he gets to anywhere important, sensing the anticipation in her and building it further.
"Castle. Lower. Touch me." He's pressing against the outer line of her hip. She wants him over her. He starts to slip deft hands over her stomach and hipbones and round the outside of her legs, punctuated by ghost kisses that don't quite result in his lips touching her. She's curving and arching and opening wider and in among the noises she's making it sounds like she's begging him. He's panting himself. He'd planned to follow the path of the phone call but she's just so hot like this and control is over-rated anyway and adaptability is key to any plan. He brings his hand across and as he gets closer to where she wants him she's beginning to cry out and please don't stop he dances over her inner thigh and Castle please oh god please in towards her centre and please please now don't stop please he only has to run a finger through her folds from end to end for her to shatter under it.
"You've let go of the headboard, Beckett. Put your hands back." Who's Beckett? But she does. "Good. You don't want me to stop, do you?" No. Oh hell, no.
"I want to touch you. Why won't you let me?"
"Because I won the prize. And I get to do whatever I want with my prize. And right now, what I want is to play with her. 'Sides, she's enjoying being played with." That's true. Oh so true. "And I'm in charge, tonight. I want you all stretched out and just like we talked about on the phone. Contemplate the twin virtues of patience and obedience, Beckett. Virtues are their own reward." She doesn't think that tone has anything to do with virtue at all. She's sure the reward won't. But the aftershocks are fading and she's excited again by her position and she knows exactly how excited Castle is because he's hard and hot against her leg. And then he purrs into her ear "You've been waiting for this, haven't you? You were having naughty thoughts in your bath about this, weren't you? You've been touching yourself when you think about it and imagine it and now you're going to have it." and he slides down the bed and she's writhing before he even lays his hands on her hips and presses her down and motionless but he's still talking in that predatory purr. "Don't move your hands." She starts to whimper as he breathes across her. "Oh, so excited, Beckett. Does me being here like this do it for you? Do you like being pliant and open for me to do this?" There's a noise that might be yes. He blows a little harder over her and watches her try to move. "Do you want me to taste you, Beckett? Is that your vice?" The noise that might be yes comes again. He tongues very lightly over her hipbone and when she bucks into his grip does it again. "I'm going to make you scream for it, Beckett." She's already almost there. When he puts his mouth on her she doesn't last long enough to do anything other than call out his name.
She's let go of the bedstead again but this time Castle isn't putting her hands back there. She's done with being obedient, with this game. She pulls him upward and he slides up over her body, obedient himself to her command, till he's perfectly placed in the nest of her hips and almost exactly where she wants him finally to be. She pushes against him, rewarded by a slow slide that fills her completely. He pauses, seated wholly within her, and waits till she moves once more. And that's enough for him to lose all control and at last be able to pull both of them over the edge together with their arms around each other.
Thank you to all reviewers, that I can't thank individually.