For the Dead Travel Fast
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When Castle woke from phase, the world was muffled and at a remove, and he laid there stupid for a long time, trying to orient.
Maybe he laid there stupid for so long, his thoughts suggested, because it felt so good. Under her hand. His eyes closed again to test the hypothesis, to really feel what was so so good, and the light caress of fingertips around his cheekbone was bliss indeed.
He must have sighed, or whimpered, because a voice hummed what must be his name, claiming him, and asked if he was awake.
No.
"Okay then, Rick." Indulgent chuckle. "But, this time, do make an effort to remember how much I love you."
He popped open an eye, twisted onto one shoulder to look up—
"Kate," he said, relish making her name break on his tongue. He managed to zombie-like unfold an arm out from under him and wrap it around her waist, bury his face in her thighs. "My Kate."
"That's a little too cave man for me, but perhaps I should say yes, all yours, when you're in this state." Her fingers combed his hair back along his ear, her kiss was dry and soft at his temple. "You awake and with me this time?"
"I think so," he spoke into her lap. You with me too? he wanted to ask. Which seemed stupid, because of course she was.
She scratched lightly at his back. "You wanna sit up? Promise I won't go anywhere, promise we're good, you and me, Rick, no divorces or separations or fights—"
"Oh yeah," he said, rolling off her and flopping to his back. "Sorry. I don't know why my first thought on waking is that you're mad at me or we're broken up."
She pressed her thumb into his forehead, smoothing what were likely worry creases (not wrinkles, no). "Not my favorite, but you can't help what your body and mind, going through trauma, hold onto."
"I don't want to hold onto it," he sighed, nuzzling into her hand.
"Okay, kitten," she said tenderly. So much tenderness it almost ached. "Sit up for me. The nurse on call said to let her know when you're through transition. You okay with her drawing our blood?"
"Me? Are you okay with that?"
"Yeah, they're different here. And I—I called my father. He'd heard of this place. From group."
Castle scrambled to sit up, scrubbing both hands down his face to clear the sleep from his eyes. "He did? You did?" His voice squeaked alarmingly. "I mean, you did. Of course you called him. Is he—"
"The boys had been by to talk to him, ask him about where he thinks I might have gone. He got the feeling they were concerned we had been shot multiple times—"
"We had."
"—but not that we were being investigated for murder. At least, not to his face they didn't insinuate as such. But he's been in constant touch with Martha, and your mother doesn't think so either. They think we're being hunted, and the boys are worried we don't have back-up."
"Oh, whew. You think it can be that easy?"
"No. But answering questions about why a man was drained entirely of blood rather than why a man shot at us in our own home—I think Ryan and Espo know better. It might be weird, but if we can give them some kind of explanation." She shrugged.
"We can't," he said. "Well. We can, but I thought there was some code of silence or something."
"No," she said softly. She laid her hand on his knee. "And I wonder if… maybe we should explain to them about the vampirism?"
"Ryan would be more than willing. I don't think Espo's heart could take it."
She scrubbed her hand back through her hair, sighed as she tilted her head to the wall. The bed was standard king, the headboard was a short rectangle of tufted fabric, and she had propped herself up in the center, apparently pressed right against him while he'd been in phase, a book to one side on top of the covers. It looked like a YA novel. Rebecca Roanhorse. Huh.
"How long was I out this time?"
"About three hours," she murmured. "They say you go through phase much faster than they've seen before, that maybe we're an ancient blood family that hasn't been seen in a long time."
"Royce?"
"Maybe."
"Bastard."
She barely twitched.
He was worked up just thinking about it. "Looking to sire his ancient blood family into the generations, and I'm sorry, Kate, but I'm going to say it: you're too good for him. And he messed it up, didn't he, and got it all wrong, because he's that much of a screw-up. He's lucky you're so you—you survived it anyway, in spite of his repeatedly draining you, and if he were alive, I'd tear out his throat with my teeth."
A lifted eyebrow. "You're not usually so bloodthirsty."
"I wouldn't drink a drop of that man's blood, noble ancient family or not. Yours and yours only."
She was hiding a smile maybe, when she tucked her arm through his and laid her cheek on top of his shoulder. "I didn't think I'd enjoy possessive vampire so much. But it's thrillingly aggressive toxic-masculinity of you, when I'm used to passive-aggressive metrosexual."
He squawked. But also her hand was going under his shirt, so his indignation was bare minimum.
"Not that I don't love my man's grooming," she said, petting up his bared chest and then down his chest, fingers going quite low—and dangerous—and right against the places he groomed so extensively. "Though I hate the little hairs all in the sink."
"I've heard," he croaked. Her hand was wicked.
They hadn't talked about the vampire sex stuff, not in so many safe words that was, but he knew—somehow he sensed exactly—that this would be vampire sex and not just a side of the road blow job or a daring foray while under doctor's care.
His heart pounded as she curved her fingers over his already-stiffening cock. "You from me, is that it?"
"Mmhm," she murmured. "They said to try. They said I'll need to keep up with you."
"You're telling me that Glenda-the-Good Witch Harris told you to vampire-sex me up so that you wouldn't fall behind, and you agreed?" He found the hem of her shirt and toyed with it, knowing it drove her crazy, the tease of his fingers against her sides. "I'm shocked."
"I think it was technically the human nurse, Tessa, who suggested the drinking, though not the sex, but yes. I'm telling you—" She licked his ear. "On the advice of medical professionals." She was bearing him back down to the mattress. "We ought to fuck a little."
"A little," he hissed. Threaded his hand under her shirt and cupped her breast. "I'm insulted. It's quite large. Now anyway. You keep playing with it."
"Playing isn't all we should do," she murmured at his ear. Her breaths made him shiver—or maybe it was the exciting things she did to the head of his cock with those cool fingers. "Some foreplay first. And then when you're very excited, I'll bite you." She drew a circle around the head of his cock. "Right here."
He jolted, grabbed her hand as if she might right now bite him. "On my—"
"No!" She laughed, collapsing against his side. "No, God, Castle, I don't even want to know what happens when…." She blinked, something devilish—
"Woman," he warned.
"Sometime later, after you're… stable."
"If you think I'll ever be stable enough for you to suck my—and my blood too—"
"You will. You have impressive stamina, Castle."
"Flattery will get you nowhere," he grumbled, but he was imagining it already, caught up in the thrall of the vampirism, the bloodthirsty need, how it clutched, the intense desire to be claimed by his mate, and claim in return, and under all that, the heady sexual urge for completion—
"I meant here," she said with a pleased laugh. Her chin dug into his chest, he jolted a little with the pointiness of that chin bone against his pec muscle. "Over your heart. The place where this all started. So I can get it straight to your heart, fastest."
"Hm." He pretended he had to think about it. "I get to be inside you for this?"
"God yes," she husked. Her mouth opened against his shirt, wetting the fabric so he felt the heat of her intent.
"And then I drink from you after?"
She slumped, pulled back a little. "No. Not this time. They think it induces you going into phase, and they already think you're too fast."
"Are you saying they think I need to rest?"
She wrinkled her nose—cute as hell, and it always made him want to kiss the end of it, even as she hated that because it was patronizing, and it was, yes, he did understand that.
The urge remained.
"I think, yes, they're concerned—we are all concerned—that you get enough rest and nutrients in between. But that's why I'll drink from you right at your heart. I've been chewing on this ginger gum that's maybe going to help."
He blinked, grabbed her by the wrist to stop that—he had to think, damn it—and tried to muddle through what she'd said. "Ginger gum to my heart?"
"Actually ginger and ginseng chewing gum. It does more than the garlic can to arrest the fungal growth, in me, allowing the algae to bloom, but it also aids in regulation of hormones—which cuts down on the, you know, sexy smell part of things."
"And yet you're still all over me."
"Because you still stink. But. You're able to hold me off," she said, eyebrows raising triumphantly.
"Huh." He was holding her off. And okay, yes, she was always sexy to him, but he was actually using his brain rather than immediately abandoning ship. "Tell me more."
"Okay, so it's kinda cool—it's very cool and smart is so sexy, right? At least, when you start all that 'professor' stuff I get hot—"
"Beckett," he complained. It really wasn't fair that he had to be the rational one right now, all because she chewed some gum?
She grinned. "The ginger is anti-inflammatory and an antioxidant, which boosts the algae in our lichen and also works immediately and dissipates quickly, so it doesn't build up in my system, and there's no chance of growing toxic, unlike heme iron. The ginseng is more for you, as it will regulate the adrenal gland and stabilize your hormones."
He grinned as she fairly glowed with enthusiasm for the medical science of the thing. "Yeah, you can teach me any day," he murmured, leaning in to drag his lips against hers for a kiss.
He jerked back at the heat in her mouth, gasping.
"Ginger," she laughed.
His lips still burned. "And when you bite, and drink from me—"
"It'll mix in with your blood, and hopefully, the ginseng helps regulate your phases while the ginger brings down the pheromones. I think Dr Harris wants the phases to slow down, or have more of a refractory period between—"
"Is that code for 'we're going to have sex' after every phase?" he said eagerly.
She touched his jaw, fingers curving softly to his ear, something in her eyes that made his heart catch. "If it means reassuring you, every time you wake thrashing or calling for me, certain I won't be there—yes. Yes, Castle, let it mean sex after every phase."
He really shouldn't be crying over that.
But when she cupped his cheek and the tear spilled over into the cradle of her hand, she leaned in and kissed him in consolation.
Her kiss burned like fire, and he kind of wished she was going to bite him where he leapt up to meet her.
Oh, but her hands down his pants were also very hot.
—-xxx—-