A/N: Happy Thanksgiving to my fellow Canadians! :D May ye be soon stuffed with turkey, pie, good cheer, and other such things to be thankful for (Like that tomorrow is Castle Monday again ;) )
"You know," Castle says as he opens the fridge, "Lunch might just be my favourite meal."
"And why's that?" Kate asks, pouring herself a glass of water from the tap.
"Well, theoretically you're supposed to have something like a sandwich, or leftovers, or fast food."
"Ok…?"
"But really you could have pancakes or omelets or whatever you want, and just call it brunch!"
"If you have to call it brunch to eat whatever you want wouldn't brunch be your favourite meal?"
He raises and eyebrow and whispers "Logic," like it was a dirty word.
Kate laughs before sipping from her water. "The brilliant insights of Richard Castle, bestselling author."
"Not insights," he protests. "Just… musings."
"Ah, I see. In that case, may the muse take a moment to muse?"
"That's one of the hottest things you've ever said."
She ignores him and moves to open a cupboard. "One of my favourite things is foods you can eat at any time of the day."
"Like chocolate?" he says.
"Like chocolate," she grins and nods. "But also like…" She grabs something from the cupboard and turns to face him, revealing her prize. "Nutella."
His eyes grow wide.
"You like nutella?" he asks in a small voice.
"I love nutella," she corrects. She slowly starts to open the jar. "I love it on toast. I love it with fruit. I even love it…" she now reaches into a drawer and pulls out a spoon. "All by itself."
And then she dips the spoon into the jar, scoops up a healthy portion, and brings it to her mouth. Castle swears that time suddenly fades into glorious, Hollywood style slow-motion as her tongue peeks out between her rosy lips to lick at the spoon. Any rational thought flees his mind as her eyes close and a dirty little moan escapes her mouth.
"Beckett…" he chokes.
"So good," she whispers as she takes another lick.
"Evil!" he squeaks as she slowly licks her lips and opens her eyes. She laughs wickedly at him.
"Poor baby," she mocks. Her mouth completely envelopes the head of the spoon, working her mouth up the sweet offering in exaggerated pleasure. Her eyes dance as she watches him, knowing exactly what she's doing to him.
"Oh you're asking for it," he growls before lunging towards her. She laughs, joyous and free, and puts the jar of nutella down on the counter, bracing herself for what she knows he's going to do. Sure enough, as soon as he's in front of her he picks her up spins her around and drops her onto the granite countertop of the kitchen island. Then his tongue is in her mouth with wide, sweeping arcs, clearing every trace of chocolatey hazelnut from her tongue, teeth, lips.
"You taste so good," he moans into her.
"You've said that before," she counters.
"Even better now."
She pulls back. "What, I'm not good enough all by myself?"
Worry flitters across his face and she takes pity on him.
"I'm kidding," she swears. "God, Castle, you need to learn to take a joke. Keep calm and carry on, and all that."
"Keep calm?" he sputters. "Calm down when you're… with that damn spoon… and…"
Teasing is what they do but she knows she's been messing with him a bit more lately, maybe a little too much. This is all still too new and she's doing what he does, using humour to avoid addressing real emotions, real feelings. She relents again and kisses him, tries to tell him with her actions that she's not actually upset with him.
"You taste good with nutella too," she tells him in between kisses.
"Oh yeah?" he smiles.
"Yeah."
He reaches behind him to where her arms are wrapped; plucking the spoon she's still holding from her fingers. He brings it between them and puts the spoon between his lips, sucking the rest of the chocolate spread into his mouth.
"Now I'll taste real good," he proclaims, grinning widely at her. She bursts into laughter at the sight of his brown teeth and boyish expression. Only this man could be so childish and still turn her on. She eagerly wraps her arms around his neck and plunders his mouth with her tongue. It's sticky and messy and one of the best kisses she's ever had. When she's positive all traces of nutella have been cleaned she leans back and smacks her lips loudly.
"Yup. Tastiest author I've ever had."
He narrows his eyes in suspicion. "Have you had other authors?"
"You've had other muses."
"One! And that wasn't… I told you, that was different!"
"I know..." She ducks her head as she confesses. "But I still sometimes want to make sure I'm the only muse on your mind, now."
"Oh, Kate," he exhales. "You are the only muse I will ever need. Ever again."
Her stomach flips a bit and she has to just sit, unmoving for a moment. He reaches for something across the island but she stays still, reveling in the feel of him standing between her legs, his musky scent so close.
And then something sticky touches her neck.
"Ew, what the he…" she starts to complain before his lips fasten onto her tender skin. "Oh…" she breathes. He licks at the nutella he spooned onto her for a moment, clearing away most of it before scraping his teeth against her, gathering it up. Finally he latches on and sucks, tongue swirling around just to make sure it's all gone. She holds onto him with weak arms, unconsciously leaning back, barely able to hold herself up against his onslaught.
"So delicious," he murmurs as he places another dollop of sweet goodness in the middle of her chest, right above the neckline of her v-neck top. She threads her fingers through his hair and holds him against her as he lavishes her skin. Her legs wrap around him and tighten, pulling him closer to her. He places his hands solidly on the granite at her sides and then somehow he's pushing her back along the length of the island, rising up onto it more gracefully than a man his size should be able to. Ok fine, a few things clatter to the floor and he bangs his knee so it's not a perfect movie moment but really, who needs movies and TV shows and fakery when she has the real-life Richard Castle, in the flesh, on top of her?
It seems he managed to keep the jar of nutella on the counter because the moment he has her shirt off (When did that happen?) there's a spot of dark, creamy chocolate in her belly button and a very hungry Castle moving towards it. She hums loudly as his tongue dips in and out of her, slightly ticklish, but even more arousing. They'd done barely anything on this trip besides the occasional meal and the seemingly endless rounds of … what? Sex? No, that word didn't seem right. They definitely weren't just fucking, though in some contexts she rather enjoyed using the word. Making Love… He hadn't yet found her entry in The Book so she didn't dare use that term out loud. Yet. Well whatever they were doing, they could barely stop for even a few hours. She is not about to complain. From the way he's ravishing her skin, neither is he.
He's playing over her skin like it's the first time, but she can feel the confidence in his movements, he knows exactly what to do to her to make her crazy. His mouth at her stomach, his hands running up her thighs... She'd thought that once they'd actually slept together the outrageous amount of chemistry they had would dwindle. She couldn't have been farther from the truth. If anything she just wanted him more now, anytime, all the time, anywhere, anyhow. A rapid montage of some of their more spectacular nights flashed through her mind, and the fire that had been growing in her core explodes, stoked by the movement of his tongue on her skin. Suddenly the idea of some good, hard fucking was very, very appealing. Everything this weekend had been so sweet and tender, which was great, but she was feeling frisky and she wanted him right now.
"Castle," she breathes in warning.
"What?" he raises his head to look at her, his eyes cloudy and a spot of nutella lingering at the corner of his mouth.
"Off the island. Now."
He frowns, not understanding. Her mind set, she doesn't give him time to catch up, raising her legs to plant her feet on his chest before shoving. He slides backwards, his eyes going wide as his legs are suddenly flailing through air, the rest of him quickly following suit. He catches himself just in time to prevent any damage, standing on the floor at the end of the counter.
"Ow," he glares at her. "What was that for?"
"No more nutella," she states as she swings herself off the island.
"Why not?" he asks, askance.
"Because stuff like that takes time and I don't want to wait," she states bluntly.
"I was having fun," he protests weakly as she stalks towards him.
"Oh we'll still have fun, don't worry," she promises, a feral look in her face.
Suddenly the air shifts, growing even hotter, as if the air conditioning had suddenly broken. It's like she's unknowingly flicked a switch inside of him. In an instant his eyes go so dark they're almost black, his back straightens, and suddenly he's looming over her, all barely contained passion and coiled strength. For a second she's almost afraid. Before she knows it he's swung her around and shoved her against the fridge door, a shock of cold running through her as her bare skin hits its surface, making her gasp.
"Why do we always have to do what you want?" he asks in a low voice.
"We don't…" she begins but he cuts her off with a rough kiss.
"We do," he says when he pulls back, leaving her breathless. "You tease me and taunt me and then if something's not going to plan, you flip your hair or use that sexy voice of yours and expect me to cater to your every whim."
Her eyes are wide as her mouth falls open.
"I don't…"
"Now I'm not saying I don't love when you take charge," he assures her. "And God as my witness I love your teasing… but we're not out in the field right now. You're not the detective and I'm not your plucky side kick."
"I know that."
"Do you?" He asks, then rolls his hips into hers. She bites her lip and frowns, trying to ignore the shudder of pleasure and focus on his words.
"I do," she insists.
"You teased me for four years, Beckett."
She shivers at the underlying danger in his voice. She's never seen this side of him.
"And I know you're used to being in charge but when you're with me like this, in the Hamptons, at my loft… we are partners. Equals."
She nods weakly as he grinds into her again.
"So if I want to play with you and a jar of nutella, I would really appreciate it if you could compromise and just let me play."
She's feeling faint now, the heady mixture of his dark tone and the idea of letting him play with her conjuring up all kinds of kinky images and yeah, she did always have a thing for bad boys. And while Castle had always had his wild, playboy image, the man himself was usually sweet and childish and funny. This brooding, muscular man towering above her and asserting his right to do whatever he wanted to her was something she didn't know she'd been craving. Is that why she'd been teasing him so much this weekend? Messing around with him when she knows he still barely believes they're together, barely believes any of this is real? So that he would finally snap and just claim her, pound into her until he could finally know she was with him, all the way?
Kate can't express any of these things to him though, because he's tearing off her shorts, pushing his own to the ground and then he's slamming into her against the fridge. She cries out at his abrupt intrusion, a fissure of pain mixing with an explosion of pleasure. She can't do anything but grab onto him and hold on for dear life as he thrusts into her with abandon. She realizes he's been holding back since they got together. There's a whole lot of unbridled, powerful man in him, and though he's sweet and metro and sometimes kind of dopey, he knows how to turn on the pure masculinity.
Another cry is torn from her mouth as he reaches up and grabs her bra, pulling half of it down to reveal a breast which he grabs and roughly kneads. His other hand is at her hip, cupping her ass, gripping so hard she knows there will at least be bruises, if not the imprints of his fingernails too.
"God…" she whimpers, his pounding relentless.
Gravity helps to slam her back down onto him, allowing him to slip deeper into her than he ever had, forcing moans and gasps and cries on every thrust. He's still got his shirt on and at first the fabric feels good sliding against her skin, the friction titillating. Then he's going even faster and the shirt is rubbing too hard and it hurts but she doesn't want him to stop. His lips and teeth and tongue are everywhere, biting, marking, between mutterings of her name and choked growls, his hot breath scalding her skin. Her blood zips through her veins like she's on speed, barely able to catch a breath, unable to comprehend anything but the feel and smell and taste of him, completely at his mercy. Her legs are clamped so hard around his waist she's surprised he can still breathe. His hands are starting to slip from her sweat and his movements grow sloppy, their movements making obscene noises that echo through the kitchen. For the first time ever, in the heat of his fervor, whatever rage he'd suddenly found himself in, he doesn't make sure she comes before he does. His pace just increases, impossibly harder, faster, for a few mind-blowing moments of pain twisting with pleasure before he's crying out and biting into her neck. Her head bangs back against the fridge as she screams, following him even without his help. Then they're collapsing to the floor in a mess of sweaty skin and tangled limbs.
"Holy shit…" she breathes, wiping sweaty bangs from her forehead. She'd wanted a good, hard fuck, but he'd taken the idea and completely run away with it. She looks over at him and her heart stutters. He's looking at her with a look so lost, so forlorn, she doesn't what to do.
"Castle, what's wrong?" she asks, reaching out and cupping his face.
"I'm sorry," he says on a rushed breath, shying back from her touch. "God, Kate I am so sorry!" He scrambles to sit up, reaching out and grasping her arms. "Did I hurt you?"
"Hurt me…? What are you talking about?"
"I'm sorry," he says again. "I don't know what happened. Something just… and then I was all caveman and I swear if I hurt you, I…"
"Castle," she states in a firm voice, "You didn't hurt me."
His gaze is raking over her, landing on the vivid mark he's just left on her neck, spotted red.
"Kate," he whispers, his voice broken and his hand rises as if to touch her, but it stops just before he does.
"Rick," she says, grasping his head between both her hands and forcing him to look at her. "You didn't hurt me," she repeats slowly, emphasizing each word.
"But…"
"You didn't."
"Are you sure?" he asks, one last time.
"Rick," she whispers, "I'm fine. That was…"
"Brutal," he spits, disgusted at himself.
"Amazing," she corrects. Her body is still buzzing.
He stares at her in disbelief.
"I don't know what just happened," she admits, "But it was pretty damn incredible."
"I just…" he starts. "I just sometimes still can't believe that we're finally here. Not just in the Hamptons, but… together, you know?"
"I do," she nods, stroking her fingers across his cheeks.
"And I know you don't tease to be cruel, or flippant, but sometimes this little voice in my head wonders what if this is all a game? What if it's a passing thing? So I just needed to…"
Her heart breaks and she has to look away, her hands dropping to her sides. She had hurt him so much in the past, left him to wonder, wallow, despair… She knew she had things to make up for, they both did, but she hadn't realized how much. They'd played with power in the bedroom before but that was for fun. This was real. They were both still afraid the other would lose interest, wasn't as hopelessly in love as they knew themselves to be. These first few months together had been like a dream… Was it already time to wake up?
"It's not a passing thing," she says quietly. Maybe she's admitting something, committing to more than she's ready for but deep inside she knows she is. She hadn't been ready to say it out loud yet, but it seems that Richard Castle, as he often did, had thrown a wrench in her well-laid plans.
He doesn't say anything more, merely looks at her solemnly for a few seconds. Then she sees resolve build before her very eyes. He leans towards her but hesitates. She breaches the final gap between them and kisses him, softly, sweetly. His lips tremble under hers and she brings her hands back to his face.
They stay sitting against the fridge, ignoring the cold, for a long time, occasionally kissing, stroking the other's skin. When the floor gets uncomfortably cold they find their shorts and pull them on over legs shaky with exertion. Finally, one of their stomach's rumble. They're not sure whose.
"So, lunch?" Kate asks.
"Yeah," Castle nods.
He stands up and offers her a hand. She takes it.
To be continued…
A/N: Well THAT certainly went way off the path I'd intended it to take… WHEW! Hello Mr. Castle… The last two chapters have been rather mushy goo, so I wanted one with some more "reowr" behind it but I did not expect THIS to appear. Apparently my subconscious saw things I hadn't realized. Well, regardless, I think I'm happy with how it came out? Some things needed to be said and done and now that they've broken through this power-barrier and Castle doesn't have to hold back anymore… imagine the possibilities! This couple will always be intense. Oh my. I can only hope you guys liked this chapter too… :S Maybe it wasn't for everyone? What are your opinions on both their views of this whole situation? Was it all in character? Should I have elaborated more/does it make sense? PLEASE let me know!
The nutella was inspired by my love of foodporn (See my other fandoms… oy…) and, of course, Stana's tweet. That girl got taste. The "Keep calm and carry on" remark was for all the many splendid variations the Castle fandom has come up with on tumblr; you guys are awesome. I have the next chapter planned out, but once that's done I'm open for suggestions of other "favourite" things to explore! It's funny; so far most of my requests have been foody things ;) Heh. I like you people. Hit that lil review button and let me know please