WARNING: Rated M.
Fantasy Fridays
Chapter Seventeen: Raindrops and Doorsteps
Castle pokes his head out the window. In seconds, he's drenched.
The Mediterranean is furious and loud, and the smooth marble floor of their hotel patio is slick and black with rain.
Guess it comes with the territory of being by the sea - one minute it's sunny and clear and the next it looks like an apocalypse has hit.
And Kate's out there somewhere, stuck in the middle of the storm.
He peers nervously towards town. It's taking too long. She should have been back by now.
An hour ago, after discovering she had no cell reception in their hotel room, she'd rushed down into the village, hoping to find a cafe where she could sit and wait for a call from her recruitment agent.
They'd been having such an amazing vacation that he'd almost forgotten about the whole unemployed-girlfriend thing. Two weeks and she hadn't mentioned it, not even a peep, then suddenly the dam broke. He'd found her in the middle of the night sprucing her resume up and crawling the internet for security jobs. She hasn't asked him to book tickets back to New York yet, but he knows his time here in this blissful isolation with her is short.
Which is why he'd taken the opportunity to throughly romance their room in her absence. He'd paid for an extra housecleaning service and there's a full meal waiting under domed silver dishes on the dining table by the window. Kate's addicted to the eggplant parmesan, and he ordered extra cannelloni for himself. May as well get into the hedonistic mood of the evening he has planned.
Candles burn against the swirling black outside the windows. He crosses his fingers that the power doesn't go out. He's got plans for her that require electricity.
The door snicks open behind him.
Kate fills the room with the scent of clean rain and moonlight, and even though the noise of the sea is deafening, her heartbeat and her breathing sound louder to him than thunder.
She laughs like a child who's been out splashing in puddles as she peels off her top and flings it to the floor with a wet squelch. Water drips from absolutely everywhere, and the thin white cotton of the tank top she has on in lieu of a bra leaves very little to the imagination.
He wants to go to her, to help her out of her clothes, to wrap her up in his warmth, but his feet are bolted to the floor.
Because he's seen a waterlogged Kate Beckett before.
"It's insane out there, babe," she says as she works the zipper of her jeans down, oblivious to his slack-jawed shock. "Finished the phone call, though. I like the woman who's handling my case, and it sounds like there are some good opportunities out there. Have to get some more paperwork together to send to her, but I she thinks she can get me a job within the month. Nothing was open in the village, but I found a bench and - Castle?"
She comes up from where she'd doubled over to peel off her socks - even they land on the floor with a damp smack - and cocks her head at him, probably puzzled by his uncharacteristic silence.
"You okay?" she asks.
He nods, and it seems to break the spell that's immobilized his legs. He steps towards her and she straightens. Tenses, but in a good way.
Her hair is longer now, and her aura is so different than it was on that night. Their first night. But all he can see is the Kate that came to him in a storm.
"Seriously, what's up with you?" she asks wearily.
"Nothing's wrong. You just remind me of - well, of you."
He brings a hand up, cups it around her jaw and strokes his thumb over her cheek. She leans into his touch like a kitten, and when she opens her eyes, there's a light of understanding in them.
"Someone's feeling sappy," she says, but her voice is lower, sliding down from the high of racing through the storm.
He chuckles. "I know, it's not usually me who's the sultry, seductive one."
He leans in for a kiss, pressing lightly into her, and what little oxygen she'd had after her sprint just vanishes.
He's like some storybook lover sometimes, the exact opposite of the funny kid who follows her around and brightens her life.
There's an edge of darkness to him that she rarely sees. It doesn't even come out when he loses control under her body, or over it, but it was there in abundance on their first night and it's there now.
A hunger. A desire that's too dark to fit with the idea she used to have about Richard Castle.
She loses herself in a make-out session that would put teenagers to shame, and one that might have to go into their personal record book for being the hottest. Somehow he always knows exactly when to push, exactly when to soothe, exactly when to pull back and just stare into her eyes before diving back in for more and driving her up against the nearest vertical surface.
When they finally tear apart, panting, she bites her lip.
"Warmer?" he asks.
"A little." She peeks at him up through her lashes. "Although I could use a nice, hot bath."
Kate tucks her grin into her chest as Castle takes her hand and leads her to through the bedroom and into the gigantic ensuite bathroom.
He leaves the lights off. A few candles line the edges of the sunken bathtub. Well, more like a hot tub. It's enormous, complete with jets and contoured seats built in for two people to sit facing one another. How they haven't got around to using it yet she doesn't know.
The reflection of the flames flicker in the window, hiding the black storm beyond. The only sound is the tap tap of raindrops.
She's still trying to adjust - to the lack of light, and to the abrupt change of mood. She'd been in business mode, mind reeling, her logic taking over, and now he's forcing her to slide into pleasure, to let go of her head and just feel. He taught her how to do it in the first place, but this shift is still a bit much for her. She's on her way to becoming bright and joyful and carefree again, but she hasn't quite shed the decade of loneliness and self-punishment.
He comes up behind her and seems to know just what she needs.
"I want to hear all about your interview, but not until we get you warmed up."
"And by warmed up, do you mean naked, sated, and boneless in bed?"
"Pretty much."
He peels her tank top up a few inches, then rakes his fingertips over her clammy stomach. Her skin tingles and shivers, coming alive under his touch.
He takes her jeans off first, sliding down her body with them until he's crouched behind her. She hooks an arm around his shoulders and he steadies her as he tugs the jeans over her arched feet.
He glides back up, palms skimming the outside of her legs, thighs, waist. Continues until her tank top is inside-out over her head, and he stops there for a moment.
He's not fooling anyone - she can see through the wet fabric and he's staring at her reflection in the black glass, with her arms trapped above her head and only a pair of underwear to hide her body from his stare.
And the beach.
"Hope no one's out there watching us," she says.
"Mmm. I'd be okay with it."
Actually, yeah, she would be too.
He tosses her tank top onto the counter. When he reaches for her underwear, he finds them already halfway down her thighs.
"Hey, I wanted to take those off," he says.
She wants to tell him that she's cold, that she wants him to get the water running stat. But she'll let him have this moment, even if it means the goosebumps are spreading from her arms to her abdomen.
He looks at her like she's new before drawing away to turn on the water. It takes a while to get hot, and he swirls it around with one rippling arm before he plugs the bath. The water pressure here isn't quite as impressive as it is at the loft.
She moves into him and starts to unbutton his shirt, pressing her thighs against his just to stay warm.
"Holy crap, your ass is freezing!" he says.
Kate laughs and runs a palm over herself. Her ass is indeed freezing.
Castle scoops her up and helps her over the edge of the bath, then he fiddles with some knobs and draws an extendable shower head out, holding it over Kate's shoulder.
The warm water feels like heaven.
"Get naked and get in here," she says.
"So demanding."
"Please." She blinks up at him, turns on the charm that she knows he likes.
He hands her the shower head and stands to undress. He makes quicker work of it than she'd like. It's her favorite time of day, watching him undress beside their bed at home. Even if her eyes are drifting closed with exhaustion, she'll fight to keep them open just to rake them over his body.
It's exquisite even when he's not aroused, when he's sleepy and unsuspecting and not putting on a show. It always makes her want to lick him from head to toe, to cup him in her palm and devour him whole.
And now - his body taut and … responsive from their kisses at the door, he's magnificent.
He climbs over into the bath and slides down behind her. She tries to turn in his arms, wants to straddle him in the shallow water, ride him before the water level gets too high and washes away the wetness between her thighs, but he clamps an arm around her middle and pries the shower head from her hand.
He holds it close to her skin, starting at her shoulder and moving it slowly down her body like a scanning wand. When he gets to just above her patch of curls, he changes direction and heads back up again.
Her eyes drift closed. The water sluices over her, and he repeats the pattern from shoulder to pelvis, over and over until the steam mists the windows and her body is limp and warm.
She hears a gurgling noise and realizes he's letting some of the water out. She can't bring herself to care why, mesmerized by the path of the waterfall over her body.
Shoulders, breasts, stomach. Up and down.
Until on one pass, he goes lower.
The heat spilling directly over her core is gentle, slow.
He slides the shower head back up again, and she aches for the next pass. She'd be ashamed of how he's reduced her to this. Pure want, basic need. Just come back down, Castle.
And he does, but this time he holds it a little further away from her body, and stream of water feels just a little stronger.
Stomach, breasts, shoulders.
And down again, and she hopes that he'll stay there this time.
He does, moving the spray out away from her body, then back in until she's writhing and panting and making plaintive little noises when the contact wanes.
He reaches for the controls and turns the water pressure up, keeping it trained directly on her clit.
She jerks under the stronger flow, but his arm tightens around her waist, holding her in place under the exquisite torture of the stream of water.
The orgasm that builds in her is slower than any she's ever had before. She starts babbling, I'm close, so close, over and over, the hum building between her thighs like a ball of fire.
Castle loosens his grip on her waist but uses his legs to lock her in place, then uses his free hand to part her, to spread her open until her clit is defenseless and exposed.
He tugs upwards, and she thanks her lucky stars that she found a man who pays such close attention to her body, to know that she can't come with a feather touch. He's watched her own hands take up the same position and he's mastered her.
Her body locks up, her breath stops in her lungs, her eyes wide with disbelief as the orgasm hovers on it's crest.
And when she plunges over the edge, it's the longest, slowest orgasm of her life.
She comes back to herself whole minutes later, slumped against him as the water starts to fill the tub, covering her legs, her tingling core. She's sore already, the kind of ache that she knows he can fix by giving her another orgasm.
"I was going to use the underwater jets, but that seemed to work okay," he says.
She perks at the idea, has a sudden vision of being bent over the side of the bath with the jacuzzi spray hitting her even harder, and him behind her, inside her.
He hums a little, gloating. "Hey, I totally just made you come without touching you."
She rolls her eyes and turns in his arms.
"Well, since I can't really return the favor, how bout I make you come while I am touching you?"
She pushes down onto him before she's even finished the sentence, wrapping him up in heat.
A/N: When I started this, I certainly didn't think it'd still be going strong four months later. The fact that I somehow manage to get a chapter of smut out every week is completely thanks to the encouragement of knowing you guys are out there reading. Sending lots of gratitude out, and hope you all have awesome weekends.