WARNING: Rated M.
Fantasy Fridays
Chapter Twenty-Three: Nebula 69
Castle snaps the cover closed over his fresh signature and hands Nikki Heat back across the table. The fan - a guy with a greying crew cut and a hard edge of muscle that suggests military experience - thanks him gruffly. Castle chuckles to himself as the man strides away, his long, measured steps unbroken until he opens the book cover and runs his fingers over the autograph. Fans come in all shapes and sizes, and it's both amusing and humbling to think that he's coaxed a seasoned soldier to a comic convention. That Nikki has captured the man's attention and adoration as completely as Kate Beckett captured her fiancé's.
Castle turns back. He's on autopilot, about to reach for another copy to sign, even though he knew the soldier had been the last in line. The massive hall at the convention center is quieting at last. The mood is different now - groups of newfound friends are wandering around comfortably and casually as if they're in their own neighborhood, instead of being wide-eyed and hyper with the prospect of meeting their idols. They know the layout now, have chased and enjoyed their highs, and are heading for the exits with souvenirs and memories and glossy photos of themselves with the people and characters that inspire them.
It's a good feeling. Castle's always been fond of book signings, and he's an agent's dream - will sit for a hour past posted signing time to make sure he gets to see everyone - but conventions are really special. His booth is small and modest, and his lines are healthy, but he envies the longer, winding ones of the TV shows and movie stars.
He smells her - the coffee and cop under a fresh spritz of black cherry and waterlily - before he feels her hands slide over his shoulders and loop gently around his neck.
His mouth splits open in a smile, even though his overworked smile muscles scream in protest. "Hey, you," he says.
"Hey. Thought I'd swing by on my way home and see if you were finished," she says, dusting a kiss to his temple - a new favorite place of hers, he's noticed.
"Do you have any bags or anything?" she asks.
Castle shakes his head and kisses her arm before gently dislodging her so he can stand up and stretch. Her eyes flick down as he twists at the waist to wake up the muscles in his back, and he glows with pride at her approving glance.
He bends to pick up the pile of snack wrappers and paper cups that he's accumulated, pats his wallet in the pocket of his jeans, checks that he hasn't left anything, then sets off down one of the many red-carpeted lanes of the convention hall with his muse and love at his side.
As much as she still constantly catches him off-guard, he can sometimes predict her behavior. So when she tugs on his hand after he's dumped his litter into a trash can, he knows exactly where she's leading him.
"Can't resist another look, can you?"
She shrugs. "This way to the exit's almost as quick."
"Mmmhmmm, sure. Chloe."
She bumps him with her shoulder, and he swerves in the aisle before knocking her back. "That's Lieutenant Chloe to you, mister."
The Nebula 9 exhibit glows blue, standing out from the other flashy booths like a strobe light on top of a Christmas tree.
"Will Audrey and Ben still be here?"
"Dunno," Kate says. "They aren't breaking down the exhibit this time, I think they've hired some people to set it up and ship it between venues. Be nice to see them again, but I think we caught up on mostly everything yesterday. They're doing so well, really. Not everybody would have come back. To the same convention where they'd lost their friend."
Castle squeezes her hand. Sometimes his cop is so fierce, so intelligent, that he forgets the great big heart she has in her for the victims she fights for, and for the friends left behind.
Velvet ropes are strung across the entrance to the replica Nebula 9 spaceship, and there's a sign in a tacky futuristic font: Nebula 9 Exhibit Closed for 2012 - come visit us at one of our upcoming events. There's a list of other cities and dates below it.
"You got lucky," Kate smiles.
"Whatever do you mean? I love Nebula 9."
Kate laughs. He can deny it all he wants, layer on the sarcasm, but she knows he's secretly been converted. Sometimes he even forgets to complain or mock her when re-runs are on. Although they never did get around to 'enjoying' her Lieutenant Chloe costume.
The convention hall is nearly empty of fans, and most of the talent left at the advertised closing time. Only the volunteers in their bright green shirts, and the convention hall staff in red remain, but this aisle is more deserted than the others.
Kate chews on her lip as Castle leads her away, babbling on about how he's feeling magnanimous and might let her watch an episode after dinner - as long as he doesn't miss Teen Wolf.
After an internal debate that lasts about six steps, she stops. Holds his hand tight so he doesn't slip away. He looks back, question and concern in his eyes, sweet man.
"I just - um, humor me, okay?" she says.
"Always."
She turns around and leads him back to the exhibit, around to the back where she knows there's a manual door that doesn't open on showy 'pneumatics' like the sliding portal of the main doors to the Experience.
He steps up into the pod with her. He expects it to be brightly lit, mosaics of flashing lights on all the consoles, but everything is off except for the green glow of the requisite safety exit lights.
Kate's on it, even though she hasn't been in before, and when she doesn't find any switches inside that appear to be functioning buttons (there are a lot of clear plastic squares masquerading as various space-travel toggles), she dips back out to the power supply for the booth.
She crouches and looks back at him as she flips the switches, flooding the pod with white brightness that makes Castle wince. Then she settles for having just the computer consoles and the floor's up-lights on.
Castle's poking around when she comes back in.
His back straightens and his attention immediately snaps to her when he hears the door close.
Normally he'd say something clever, like 'Got plans for me, Lieutenant?' but he doesn't think he wants to risk it right now. So he fiddles with some of the knobs and levers. He almost jumps out of his skin when she comes up behind him, steps in close enough that he can feel the contour of her breasts at his back, the warm glow of her belly and thighs.
Her arms come around him for a sweet hug, and he turns into it, envelops her in one of his trademark Castle bear hugs. He knows she loves them.
When she tips her face up to his, her eyes are liquid and wide, the smallest, almost embarrassed smile painting her lips.
Oh. He knows that look. The one she gets when she's feeling sentimental, the one she wears almost every time she says I love you, aside from the casual hello-goodbye I love you's.
"You okay?" he asks, stroking his thumbs in wide arcs over her back.
"Yeah. Just kind of like seeing you at signings. I watched you for a bit."
"Staking me out, huh?"
"Well, I had to make sure you weren't signing boobs again."
"Good think you weren't here earlier when Pamela Anderson dropped by."
She smiles, but then she's quiet for a moment. "We were pretty new, weren't we? When we were here last year?"
"Yeah. I mean, I guess. New, but already four years along, in a way."
He curls his finger under her chin in an unspoken request for her to meet his eyes.
When she does, he sees the stunning shift through emotions, bright and fierce in her eyes. The soft reminiscence flashes into something harder, something almost desperate - you're mine - and it knocks the breath out of him. They're used to each other now. They reach for one another in the dark and come together easily, their bodies and hearts no longer a mystery really, but every now and then she just fucking levels him. Looks at him like it's their first night and she's exploding with gratitude for the chance to touch him.
She softens again, just as abruptly, and leaves him reeling. She tilts up to him, kisses him, but it's kind and lovely and he hasn't caught up yet and he's still in the fierce, and he can't help it when one of his hands slide up her back and curl around under her ear, fingers digging in at the hollow at the back of her neck, and his thumb splayed to the center of her chin.
In the beginning, she'd cringe - not visibly, but he could feel it - when he held her like that. Used his massive hand to manipulate her, put her where he wanted her. She wasn't used to being submissive, even in little interactions like having her face angled at his whim, but it wasn't long before that bristling reaction melted, revealing one of the many mysteries of Kate Beckett. That she likes to be overpowered sometimes.
So the kiss that starts off as sweet and familiar quickly becomes intoxicating.
He walks her across the room. Walks her - even though he could have spun her to the wall he'd been standing near - and she moans as he moves her, as she blindly trusts him to guide her backwards. With each step he nips at her lips, and she catches each kiss desperately.
When her back hits the cool curve of the wall, she gasps.
"Wait, wait - oh, mmm, no no wait wait." Her words are a messy mumble under his lips, under the press of his hips.
He draws back, the rascally flop of hair over his forehead dislodged and bouncing.
"You want me to stop?"
In answer she grabs his lapels and slams his mouth back onto hers. He pries her open, that thumb on her chin again, and she can feel him growing against her lower belly, stiffening with each kiss until she's pressing shamelessly into him just to feel how hard he his. How hard she makes him.
He bends his knees, just enough that his body slides down and that hard ridge is resting - no, rubbing now - over the tiny part of her body that feels swollen and straining.
Damn him, damn him, damn him. How he does this, she'll never know. She's a cop, has steel, has restraint, but something about this man can push her beyond the edge of reason, have her rucking up her prom dress, so to speak.
She pushes at the wall of his chest, but she's the one who cries out at the sudden loss of contact. Just a tiny whimper, but it's amplified in her own ears. She's so fucking desperate. It'd almost piss her off, probably would have had they gotten together any sooner, but now she just can't find the will to care.
She pushes her hair off her face, knows she's flushed and pink. She points a fierce finger at him. "Stay," she warns. "Better yet, sit."
He doesn't say anything. Just backs into the swiveling captain's chair. Pats his thighs.
Not yet, buddy, she thinks.
She heads towards the main entrance to the deck, where there's a side chamber with a wardrobe rail full of Nebula 9 uniforms. It's where the paying fans get dressed for their 30 minute experience, before taking their places on the scripted space journey. She blows out a breath, attempts to level the thudding pulse that seems to have taken over her whole body.
"Eyes closed," she calls out, knowing that he'll be trying to peep.
She goes through the motions of changing her clothes with trembling hands, her mind completely not on the task. She steps into a black and purple dress, zips it all the way up herself. He does admire her flexibility, and it comes in handy sometimes. No point putting her underwear back on, so she uses her foot to kick her jeans - underwear still in them - into a pile with her shirt in the corner of the dressing room.
She'd rather have her dress, would like to have spent some time putting on smoky, exaggerated eye makeup she wears when she dresses up as Lieutenant Chloe, but it'll have to do. After all, it's not everyday you have access to the actual spaceship.
She whips her hair into a quick fishtail braid, then smooths her hands down the front of the dress and steps out of the pod.
Castle's sitting obediently in the Captain's chair, facing her, but with his eyes closed. One hand has strayed into his lap, and her eyes are drawn like magnets to where he's stroking, stroking, stroking through his pants, a gentle, slow glide to either keep him hard for her, or to take the edge off.
She licks her lips. Advances.
Castles eyes open when she moves his hand and replaces it with her own.
"Lieutenant," he murmurs. "You should be in your room. You'll be needed on deck in less than two hours, you should get some sleep."
Man doesn't miss a beat.
"I'm not tired, Captain. Besides, it looked like you needed some…company. I'll just put the ship on autopilot…" Kate reaches out and flicks the switch nearest to her.
The pod hums - probably just the portable a/c unit in the corner, but it sounds like they might actually be rushing through space. The LED screen that curves around one end is lit up, black with pinpoints of stars, and the dim greens and blues of the consoles lend even more to the mood. Kate Beckett has just dropped out of the streets of New York and into her oldest and dearest fantasy.
She climbs up onto the chair, straddling her Captain. Luckily, it's spacious, and there's plenty of room for her knees by his hips. When she settles, rubbing herself over his fly (if he doesn't know she's going commando yet, he will know soon) Castle growls.
He blinks hazily at her, their lips meeting in a completely un-choreographed but perfect dance. How does she know when to pull away, when to bite, when to suck, when to run her tongue and where? She's a mindreader. A really, really, sexy mind reader. The braid is hot, he thinks. He reaches up, tugs on it, but gets distracted by the suspiciously warm pressure on his lap. He slides his palms up her thighs until the dress reveals her to his greedy eyes.
He rubs the lightest of circles over her clit, standing at attention between the two lush mounds that curve and dip under her, perfect paths to the hot, deep middle of her.
He grabs her hips and hauls her up, and she catches on fast. He trails his fingertips over the backs of her knees when she's standing, feet planted on the chair where her knees were.
And with the heat radiating from her body directly into his face, the scent of her organic and just female and right there in front of him, he loses it and buries his tongue between her folds in a desperate, sloppy attempt to lick up the delicious gleam of her arousal.
She'd been breathlessly quiet when she approached him, but now she's loud, taken by surprise by the sudden onslaught of his mouth by the sudden twist from foreplay into gratification, and her hands clap onto the high back of the chair, gripping white as her fiancé shoves his face between her legs.
It's better than any Lt. Chloe Captain Max fantasy she ever dreamt up in her filthy teenage mind.
Castle's hands are wrapped firmly around her knees, and he's so distracted by the heady taste, the succulent, perfect shape of her lips in his mouth, that hard, tiny bud that sparks pleasure through her when he tugs at it with his teeth, that he doesn't notice his elbow hitting a button on the arm of the chair.
Suddenly, he's rocketed back, and he's laying down and the dripping, delicious feast he'd been enjoying is way too far away from his mouth for his liking.
Kate laughs, looks down at the man who barely seems to notice he's fully reclined the seat. She's standing up, naked from the waist down, and it would be comical if she didn't really need to just come like right fucking now.
She starts to bend down, to position herself back over his talented mouth, but there's nowhere to put her knees at the head-end of the chair, and she pauses, too aroused to think clearly, until Castle's hands guide her, twist her.
And she gets it.
Very happily does she get it.
She sits on his stomach, facing his feet, gently so as not to put all her weight on him, crouches over him until she can unzip his pants and draw his cock out. It's warm, almost red with desperation, and she knows he'll taste thick and salty when she slides him into her mouth. She wants it. God, does she want to taste him, to fill her mouth to bursting with the firm smoothness of him.
She's insanely focused on it, preoccupied with scooting into the right position that will get her tongue close enough to that delicious length. She prepares to dart it out and have her first lick, let that bead of pre-cum burst on her tongue. At the exact moment that she makes contact, the warm, wet, holy fuck firm pressure of Castle's tongue slides in a line from her clit all the way along her entrance.
She forgot that he'd wanted to continue - temporarily forgot the mechanics of mutual oral sex. It surprises her - pleasures her - so much that she moans and accidentally opens her mouth wide for a much bigger first suck of Castle's cock than she imagined. She groans around him and he tears his tongue from her to let out a long string of fucks and Kates.
He'll feel a bit sheepish after, a little awkward when they untangle their various damp body parts, but he thinks mostly he'll just feel smug. Nebula 9. Hah. His dreams do come true.
It's distracting, having a hot whirlpool of pleasure wrapped around his cock, but he manages to work up a rhythm with the hard point of his tongue, flicking back and forth, stopping every now and then to lick her wide and thoroughly, or to press into her. But the direct, hard pressure on her clit is what she likes best.
As she gets closer, she goes wild. Starts taking him deep and fast without realizing it. Almost uses the impossibly deep swallows as a substitute for the noises and words she wants to be screaming. He fucking loves it. And when she gets close, he can feel it on his tongue, and on his dick. Because she's almost choking herself with him, smashed down with her lips at the very base of him - which is no small feat - and he knows she's coming because she's jerking and writhing and just drenching his nose and chin. His balls tighten, and for a second he has an out of body experience - sees them 69'ing on a reclined chair in a fake spaceship - and fuck if that doesn't send him right over the edge in a rushing, roaring, orgasm. He licks up Kate's ecstasy even as he pumps his into her mouth.
He is definitely a convert - he loves Nebula 9.
Nice long chapter this week :) Did you enjoy?