Nocturne Chapter Six
"So memorize each turn and twist, just be careful as you go
For if love is a labyrinth, then my heart is Jericho."
-Mary Chapin Carpenter, Ashes and Roses, 2012 Rounder Records
No copyright infringement intended.
Mmm. Warm arms. Warm chest. Soft sheets. Snuggly pillow. Snuggly man.
His scent is surrounding her, familiar, subtle, comforting.
She opens her eyes slowly, takes in the pearly gray pre-dawn wash of light. With a blinking clock on the bedside table and no watch in easy reach, she can only guess it's around four thirty or five.
Her internal clock is set to wake her in time for a run before work.
Work that she no longer does.
She has a momentary pang of regret, but then she feels Castle's breath tickling her neck, his body spooned solidly behind hers, and she cannot regret a thing.
She'll tell him in the morning. She's sure he won't be upset, as long as she isn't. And right now, 'upset' is as far from her mind as it's ever been.
She could get used to this—waking up in his arms, nudging through the last vestiges of sleep cuddled with the man she loves. A softer way to greet the morning, letting the day open up in this little world
they've created before they have to face the one outside each other's embrace.
She's surprising herself at every turn—never before one to wake up pleased to find someone pressed close or to linger in the comfort of that closeness. Close always seemed claustrophobic, and a bed was a place to spend as little time as possible outside of sex and sleep.
Lazing leaves her mind time to wander, brings to it unbidden thoughts of things she can't change, images from bad dreams that spill into her consciousness.
But this? This happy moment of awakening bears repeating. And so they will repeat it, she thinks, as often as their lives will allow. The future is cast in a rosy glow, and for once she has no desire to shine
the stark light of reality on to every detail. They'll figure it out. They already are.
She shifts a bit in his arms. After everything else that happened in the past twenty four hours, she's amazed that all her body seems to remember at this moment are their acrobatics in his bath tub. His touch seems to have erased every mark, undone every punishment wrought by other hands.
Despite her snarky response at the time, he was so right when he said they were good at this. It is as though he has a map of her body, highlighting every spot that makes her sigh. But more than just a map, he knows exactly how to touch her, when to back off, when to advance. Observation is his forte; he's been watching her for years, taking in little details no one has ever bothered to notice.
But they've only been at this for a few hours, and already he knows more than anyone she's been with about what she likes, what drives her to distraction, what makes her desperate and then what fulfills all that need.
She had thought the first time may have been so spectacular because of the thrill of newness, the head rush of finally being together after so much anticipation, so much delaying and denying.
But then in the bath… she thinks she may never have had a climax so intense in her life. Everything was surreal, weightless in the water, and his hands were everywhere, mouth soft and seeking. They fit
together so effortlessly—didn't even have to try to please each other.
Never one to demure in the bedroom, she wouldn't say she's ever had a problem with being shy. But with Castle, it's as if every inhibition has flown out the window. The feeling is positively wild, reckless,
free.
Though her instinct is always to lead, there is no question in her mind that she will willingly go wherever this man wants to take her. And she fully intends to take him to heights he's never imagined.
As ridiculous as it seems, lying here tucked against him, she suddenly wants to see him.
Careful not to jostle too much, she turns in his arms, and there he is. Just a bit in awe at his closeness, she readjusts so her head rests beside his on the pillow.
It's her turn to study him.
Face slack with sleep, cheek pressed into the downy cloud of their shared pillow, he looks younger. She's imagining it, but she swears he looks more like the man she met four years ago. His eyes have lost a few lines; his brow is no longer a worried furrow.
And he's smiling in his sleep. Well, maybe not exactly smiling, but the pert bow of his lips is turned up at the corners rather than down.
She wants to badly to be the reason for his lightness, for his lack of sorrow rather than its cause.
His spirit is joyful; he is far more capable of seeing the good in every situation than she has ever been. It's one of the things she loves about him, though it sometimes makes her crazy. Maybe it's rubbed off just a bit, though. She's spent a decade mired in all the darkness that her past and her profession could provide. Here beside him, on this first morning of whatever they will be together, she thinks that maybe, just maybe, she is capable of happiness, too.
Not that it will be easy, not that they won't require work, or have sadness or anger in their lives again, but now those things might be shared, and in sharing, their loads will be lighter.
He's spent four years making her life a little more fun; now she can make his brighter, too.
There have been too many tears between them; she wants to make him laugh. Just thinking of the sound, like bells ringing in her mind, brings a smile to her face.
Without thinking, she kisses him lightly on the lips and his eyes blink open, taking in her silly, sappy grin.
It must be a very different awakening from the last time, when he had to carry her, heavy and dark, through the nightmare and the tears and the pain.
He seems to take it in stride, though, her smiling kiss in the purple light of early morning. Without hesitating, he deepens it quickly, pushes for more. He always wants more. And now she will give it to him.
Amazingly, she wants more, too, in every way. And right now, she wants him—again.
But she wants him slowly, embers glowing after the flashing fire has burnt itself out.
She reaches for him, wants to discover all his body's secrets just as he's discovered hers. Wants him to sigh and gasp and be caught unawares.
He's beautiful, still half-shrouded in the shrinking shadows of the barely brightening bedroom. It's a quality she needs no light to see.
And so she loves him the best she can, telling him with her lips on his skin what her voice still cannot say.
She thinks he understands.
# * # * # * #
One more chapter to go. I've been out of town, so I'm a bit late with this one. Please forgive me! I'll have the last one out before the premiere.
Joy, thank you for being "on call" for technical edits and Deb, thanks for checking in.
I appreciate every word of feedback, and I hope you will stick with this to the end.
Youtube playlist has been updated again.
youtube dot com slash playlist ?list=PLnXP8GXCbzfUFfhqEpWCAz4-3xPWCzhKC
Kate
