Beckett is waiting for him on the bed when he comes in, sitting up against a stack of ridiculously plush satin covered pillows. She's wearing a pair of lacy black panties and his white button down. The one she knows he loves, has somewhat of a fixation with in fact.
Things have been unnaturally tense between them for the last several hours. Since the incident in the kitchen. She'd told him time and again that she was fine, but even if she was, Castle was not. He was quiet, subdued… and not in the happy relaxed way one should be during a romantic getaway at the beach. She'd caught him staring at her out of the corner of his eye several times. He looked afraid; like he still worried she was going to run away. The exact opposite of what she'd hoped would happen once he finally snapped and claimed her. Kate had done all she could to reassure him, ground him. She took every opportunity to touch him; a soft brush of her fingers to his shoulder as she walked past, resting her head on his shoulder when they sat on the bench overlooking the ocean, holding his hand and lifting his fingers to her lips.
He allowed it all, thank god; he didn't shy back or anything. She didn't know what she would have done if he had. At the same time, though, he took no move to touch her back. Her strokes were unanswered, her kisses not reciprocated. It took everything she had to stay calm, patient for him. He'd once waited over three months for her to work through her issues, she could allow him half a day. But it was hard, so hard to be with him but not have him present. She had so many years of practice at holding back from him but she seems to have suddenly lost that ability completely.
Dinner was a quiet affair that had her nearly crawling out of her skin. Kate needed Rick back. When he'd started silently doing the dishes afterwards she'd let out a soft sigh and proclaimed she was tired and going to bed early. His eyes flittered only briefly to hers, and she hoped the "Join me" message was clear.
It was now an hour later and she was about to give up. She was on the verge of actually attempting sleep, the emotional turmoil of the day having worn her out, when he finally opens the door.
Now he's there, in the room, staring at her with something deep and undefinable in his eyes. Kate stays silent, finished with her touches, hints, words. She's here for him if he'll have her but it's up to his own stubborn self. She prays the bubble of their first few, glorious months hasn't burst.
She watches silently as he reaches to the bottom edge of his shirt, smoothly pulling it off. Hope blossoms in her chest. He shucks his shorts off, leaving him in only his dark blue silk boxers. They'd been green earlier, but after the kitchen they'd both showered off the sweat, sex, and nutella… separately.
Castle bends to pick up his clothes and turns to fold and put them away.
Kate gasps.
"Oh my god, Castle…"
His back is covered in shallow, red welts. She doesn't' remember inflicting them, so caught up in the red haze of their passion. She didn't realize she was clawing at him, egging him on, trying to be closer, closer, crawl inside of him. She hadn't succeeded but it seems her nails had.
"It's fine," he responds quietly, mirroring her own words.
"Did you…"
"I cleaned them and put some polysporin on, yes."
"I'm sorry," she whispers.
He shrugs, nonchalant. "I deserved it."
The detective swallows heavily. "They weren't meant to punish you. I was encouraging you."
He turns back to her slowly, his eyes downcast.
"How could you have wanted me to…"
"Because I…" her throat suddenly seizes, clogging, her heart clenching. "Because I'm with you, Castle, all the way. I want to know every side of you, all of you. I want to give you what makes you happy. Frankly I'm insulted that you thought I would let you get away with anything I didn't want. If you want to fuck me against a fridge then do it. I'm yours."
His eyes flicker and oh god is that moisture shining in the blue depths?
"Kate, I…"
"C'mere, Castle," she says softly, holding out her hand to him.
He looks at it for a moment before starting forward. Kate's body tenses, her skin sensing his proximity, smelling his unique scent, totally tuned to him. He takes her hand gently and perches on the edge of the bed. She threads her slim fingers through the thickness of his.
"I know," he begins after a deep breath, "How hard it is for you to give up control." His eyes flick to hers, waiting for a rebuke. He plows forward through her silence. "It's one of the things I most admire about you. Your independence, your fierce will. There is so, so much I want to do to you… with you."
A shudder runs through her, pooling around her center, tickling at the edges.
"But I never, ever want to take anything from you that you don't want to give."
"Castle, if I hadn't wanted it, you'd have known. I do have the ability to kick your ass, remember."
He lets loose a rough chuckle.
"Normally yes, but in the position we were in… Could you have? You were completely vulnerable, Kate."
Involuntary hackles rise in her. Vulnerable was not a word she liked associated with her.
Normally.
But her relationship with Castle had never been normal, had it? For him, only him, she could be vulnerable. She had to work at it every day but he was wearing her down at an alarming rate. She had never even considered letting a man "claim" her before, but Castle…? It was terrifying how much she wanted to give him. How often had she smiled, laughed, in the last few months? He made her happy.
"I trust you," she says. Simple, to the point, honest.
His eyes close. She can see his pulse jumping at his throat and wonders what he's thinking, feeling. Suddenly her body is lurching towards him, her fingers spreading out as she lays her palm against his chest, over his heart. He sucks in a breath. She can feel the erratic pounding of him, his heart, his being, for her.
There's barely a second between the time he opens his eyes and when his lips meet hers. So soft, so gentle, and holding more passion, love, than she's ever experienced or imagined possible.
"Kate," he whispers reverently, kissing her again.
"Kate," he moans, his hands coming up to cradle her face, thumbs brushing over her cheekbones as softly as one would a porcelain doll.
Beckett doesn't push, initiate, anything except let him do what he needs to do as she tries to pour all her acceptance and love right back, her lips the conduit. His warm tongue slides across the seam of her lips and she moans in appreciation, parting instantly. Castle groans as the taste of her floods his senses for the first time in so many hours. Too many hours, and it was his own damn fault. Her tongue meets his in a slippery dance. Unable to resist any longer she lifts her other hand to his chest, reveling in the way he ripples and shudders at her touch. He shifts, turning his body toward her and climbing fully onto the bed. He pushes her back against the pillows, his mouth never leaving hers.
She relaxes and lets her body melt under him, pliant. A blank canvass waiting to be painted on by the colours of his love, the strokes of his body.
But he just keeps kissing her, sucking rational thought away and leaving her breathless, yet more full than she's ever been. The act of kissing could sometimes be the most intimate caress of all, fused at the place where you draw breath, the air that keeps you alive. Sharing the sacred substance, breathing as one, and if you open your eyes…
Kate does, and once again a gasp is drawn from her. Castle's eyes are barely an inch away from hers, swimming in and out of focus from the proximity but nearly blinding with the light that shines from them. The pure, unadulterated adoration, love, awe, joy, gratitude. Their kiss slowly comes to a halt. Their lips merely touch, sharing ragged breaths as they stare at one another.
After minutes, hours, he breaks the spell with another exalted "Kate."
Her hands at his chest push him gently away. He falls back, knees bent, resting on his legs.
Kate pushes herself off the cushions and rises up on her knees in front of him. Her hands move to the open fluttering edges of the white shirt she wears for him. Never breaking eye contact, she slips it off her shoulders, the rich material falling soundlessly behind her. She tosses it aside, kneeling tall, proud but open, exposed for him. His gaze roams her body, the blue orbs darkening by the second. With every breath she takes her breasts lift just so, her nipples tightening under his look alone, crying out to him for attention as her breath quickens in anticipation.
A large hand wraps around her waist, pulling her forward. Just before her chest meets his, heat emanating between them, his other hand moves to her shoulder and he's bending her backwards. She lets herself be pushed, falling onto the bed. Her tan skin stands out across the light bedding. His hands move to her legs, helping her to stretch the out across the sheets. He could stare at their endless length forever, but doesn't. He moves one of his strong legs between her thighs, the other resting beside her left leg. He takes her hands in his and raises her arms above her head. She relaxes them as he skims his fingers down the sensitive skin of her forearms, the crook of her elbows, her shoulders and collarbones. Suddenly he skips down to her waist, clasping her curves and looming over her, his broad form blocking out most of the dim light of the room.
Castle leans across her and answers the call of her breasts, enveloping her right nipple in the hot, wet heat of his mouth. A deep moan falls from her lips as he slowly devours her, tongue rolling the tight bud between his lips, teeth nibbling. She wants more, harder, sharper, but knows it's not the time. She can only hope her breathy sighs let him know how much she wants him. His hands coast up and down her sides as he lavishes attention on her chest, eventually pulling away from her with a wet pop before moving to her other breast. Kate grips a pillow in her hands, trying to resist the urge to bury her fingers in his hair, hold him to her and never let him go.
Castle leaves her nipples hard and aching for more when he moves down, lips and tongue meandering, drawing random patterns across her skin but leaving no spot untouched. It's like he's discovering her for the first time again.
Kate jumps when his lips suddenly plant on her neck. When had her eyes closed? His breath washes over her as he sucks on her pulse, tongue lapping, feeling every beat. He nips at the spot behind her ear, at her jaw, peppers her face with glancing touches.
Her lips purse and seek his out but he refrains. She keens as he moves back to her neck, his hands coming into play at her breasts, still slick from his saliva. His mouth drifts back to her ear, biting down on the lobe, sucking it into his mouth before releasing it.
"Kate," he whispers, lips brushing against her. "I love you."
She almost comes from his words alone, the emotion pouring from him, coupled with the squeeze of his warm hands.
"Castle…" she pleads, for what she doesn't know. He knows, though. They've been in sync with each other for so long. Not always, often misinterpreting things at the most important of moments, but most of the time. Like now. He glides down her body until his face is level with the only barrier she still wears, a black lace gate. His fingers are the keys but he doesn't use them. His fingertips ghost along the surface, the slightest of pressures, her need ratcheting up at every pass. What is he waiting for?
"Beckett," he pipes up suddenly. He sounds worried.
"Hmm?"
"Earlier… in the kitchen… are you absolutely sure you're ok?"
Oh. He still worried for her. Not emotionally, anymore, but physically. He always put her needs before his own. She wants to say yes, I'm fine, take me now, but stops herself.
"I am a bit sore," she admits. "I don't know if I could…"
"That's fine. I don't' need anything tonight. This is for you."
Flames lick at her core.
"I just didn't even check to make sure you were ready before, and…"
"Castle," she interrupts. "Trust me. After that nutella stuff? I was more than ready…"
She opens her eyes to see him gulp.
"I was so wet, Castle," she breathes, her voice low. "So wet. For you."
He groans, face screwing up as he bows his head, mouth and nose pressing against the damp fabric between her thighs. He inhales slowly, deeply, his mind clouding with the overwhelming scent of her arousal. She's a drug, and he's an addict.
"God, Kate," he breathes into her. Her hips squirm as his hot breath washes over her, sinks into her skin, sending a fresh wave of need downwards. He pulls his head back as his right hand smoothes over her leg, knee, inner thigh. The pads of his thick fingers finally hit lace and rub against her. Her eyes slam shut again, sounds spilling from her mouth as the fabric brushes against nerves still sensitive from the afternoon.
Castle's fingers grow sticky, damp with the moisture that's penetrated through her underwear. Without realizing it Kate starts moving against him, hips rocking forward to press herself against him, the pressure he offers, seeking more, always more. Her hands grip the sheet surrounding her but her body stays flush against the bed, languid, in no hurry at all. She knows it will be worth it in the end. Castle's fingers still as he watches her lithe body, stretched out, eyes closed, slowly achieving her own pleasure against the grounded force of his hand.
She'd lit a single, tall candle on the headboard above them and the flame cast soft shadows, highlighting the sharp prominence of her cheekbones, the curve of her eyebrows, the lushness of her well-kissed lips. The lips that sigh his name though he's barely touching her. He pulls his hand away, Kate's eyebrows dipping down before her eyes blink open slowly, hazily.
"Castle?" she questions. Her voice is so soft, so low that it invokes a shiver that travels the writer's entire form, settling heavily between his legs.
He doesn't answer her. Instead he runs his hands over her legs again, never used to the soft velvet of her skin, the hint at powerful muscles held beneath. He stops at her hips, his broad palms covering her hipbones as his fingers slip beneath her. He gently coaxes her hips off the bed, leans down, and catches black lace in his teeth, pulling it away from her. She groans and he lets it snap back. She huffs loudly and he smiles, hooking his fingers under the lace and sliding it down her legs. He's about to toss it aside when she speaks.
"You can keep those, if you want." Her voice is still so quiet, but rich and full with humour and affection.
Castle's mouth curls up at both ends.
"How could I refuse an offer like that?"
"You never refuse anything I offer," she says wryly. It's meant to be an offhand comment, teasing, but it hits him in the chest.
"No, I don't," he says. "And I don't ever plan to. I want all of you, Kate. All you can offer, whatever that may be. I'll take whatever I can get. If that sounds pathetic and needy, well… " He shrugs. "It's true. I need you."
The often stoic detective looks at him with suspiciously watery eyes. She opens her mouth and he tenses but she doesn't say what he expects.
"Touch me, Castle," she breathes.
He lets out his own breathy groan, rumbling up from his chest. He grips her upper thighs and nudges her legs wider, every scintillating inch of her exposed to his hungry gaze. His body clenches at the sight, one of his favorites in the world, the act he's about to perform one of his favourite undertakings. Funny how many times lately he'd found himself associating the word "favourite" to things involving Kate. He could lose himself in her and never come out. Kate expects him to give in to his hunger, wants him to, but when his lips touch her it's the most tender, gentle, intimate caress… After just the one kiss he migrates to the skin of her thigh, right where leg meets torso, thin skin pulled taught. He bites down and she keens, tensing.
"You feel so good," he whispers, running his tongue up to her hipbone and down into the dip above it. He feels her fingers tangle in his hair and he grins against her. He continues to tease, kissing, licking, nibbling, on everything but her aching center. The author could tell her patience is waning when curses start filling the air. One did not continue to mess with Katherine Beckett once she started swearing in bed. He's relieved, really. He'd been about to cave anyway.
Without further ado his hands resume their position on her hips, after having wrapped his arms underneath her legs and hoisting them over his shoulders. Her heels dig sharply into his back, pulling him forward.
Castle is more than happy to oblige.
His thumbs skate down to part her tender folds as his tongue glances across her entrance, lying flat and licking up her entire length, drinking in the sweetness of her overwhelming arousal. The needy sound Kate makes is music to his ears. He can't believe how vocal she can get, how completely free, uninhibited she lets herself be with him. He wants to work the rest of his life to tear those sounds from her throat. He repeats the move and there's that sound again, even louder. He can't resist moving up to the tiny bundle of nerves at her center, gathering it in his tongue and sucking it between his lips. Her hips buck under him and a strangled "Castle…" hits his ears. Her heels dig forcefully into his back but he barely feels it, consumed by her, the look of her, the taste, the smell, the feel.
His lips release her, retreat to her silky wet folds, tugging, licking, sucking every little bit of her that he can. Her strong hand pushes at his head, grips his hair so tight but Castle doesn't give in. He'd let go earlier, and look what had happened. His daily allowance of "Letting go" was more than spent. He'll take his time now, try to make amends for earlier, thought he knows he'll never be able to.
The way Kate is moaning above him tells him she is decidedly not dwelling on the past. She is as entrenched in the moment as she possibly could be. Her glistening thighs prove that. A fresh wave pours out of her as he brushes his lips over her clit again. Her death grip on his hair loosens, lets go, and he knows she's realized she can't persuade him to go faster.
He pulls back from her, watches as her arm trails lazily up and over her head, feathering over her breast along the way, tugging at her rosy nipple. A devious smile spreads across her face as she stretches her arms above her and his mouth goes dry as her body undulates, muscles rippling beneath tanned skin. He uses his hands to push himself up onto his knees, her legs still over his shoulders but easily stretching to accommodate. Castle is continually amazed, and awed, at how flexible she was. Much to the benefit of them both.
He has to bite the inside of his cheek as he looks down at her, spread across his bed like a Goddess on display.
For him.
If he didn't bite his cheek he'd start speaking, he knows, and he wouldn't be able to stop. He'd just keep trying, futilely, to express how much he loves her. No matter what prowess he sometimes has with words, there were no words, no phrases, to describe how desperately he needs her. How she, as cheesy as it is, completes him.
Words aren't enough so he uses his mouth for other things. To try his damndest to physically show her what she means to him, to thank her for everything she's given him. He is always overwhelmed by how actively she responds to his attempts at expression in this form. She always "expressed" right back, giving as good as she got.
Like right now.
His lack of movement spurs her to open her eyes. The look she gives him, her luminous hazel eyes, forces the very breath from his lungs.
"Goddamnit Kate," he swears.
She frowns.
"You are so freaking gorgeous!"
She smiles shyly and it makes it even worse.
"Just the hottest, sexiest, most… I mean… You're seriously going to give me a heart attack one of these days."
"Well then," she purrs, stretching once more, purposely teasing him with her perfect body and husky voice. "We better make every moment we have together count them, hmm?"
How true that is.
And she rolls her hips, using her strong legs and core muscles to pull him to her until he can feel her, slick against his chest. She takes her lip between her teeth, squeezing her eyes shut as she arches her back, pushing herself even further up, until her thighs brackets his face and her sex is pressed against his lips. He hears her moan as she rubs against him and that's it.
He's done.
His hands slide over her thighs and he pulls her down, lets himself fall to the bed. His tongue slips into her as she hits the mattress and bounces.
"Oh god," she cries throatily, her hands flying back to his hair.
He devours her then, drinks her in and swallows her whole. All his love and passion pour into her, a blinding torrent, focused solely on her pleasure. The house could fall down around them and he wouldn't know, lost in the sweet, musky, beautiful, delicious world of Kate.
She keens and cries and writhes and it only drives him on, relentless in the pursuit of breaking her down. One lick, one suck, one twist of his tongue at a time.
Castle doesn't use his fingers. He could; he knows she likes it. Hasn't really discovered anything she doesn't like from him, but he doesn't want to use them now. She'd confessed, one last night after several glorious hours, that his hands entrance her. The hands that have written her favourite books, brought her coffee, tried to push her out of the way of a bullet, and shot bullets themselves. But right now, in this moment, he needs her to feel his words from his mouth, speaking his love soundlessly into her, transmuting his love directly into her skin.
Her skin that is flushed, pink with passion as her legs begin to tremble. Her fingers slip in his hair, lose purchase as her control begins to slip, her motor functions gone, everything lost but the ability to feel.
"Yes, Castle…" she hisses. "God please, more!"
His tongue thrusts in, long and thick and hot, caressing her, finding all her secrets and making them his, theirs.
"Fuuu…" She's cut off, choking on the curse as his mouth stretches, spreads wide, takes her completely in, enveloping her clit and sending stars shooting across the darkness behind her closed lids.
She opens them briefly, looking down at him. The sight of him cradled between her legs, so fiercely focused on her, devoted to her, forces another cry from her throat. The cry is hoarse, and her head thrashes on the pillow, her eyes slamming shut again.
His name becomes a mantra, sprinkled with more "Yes'es" more "God's" and a few, throaty, uninterrupted "Fucks".
Castle's head is swimming, seeped in her essence, reveling in the effect he has on her. His hands grip her hips tightly, holding her down as he pushes further, deeper, and oh god his teeth, scraping and biting.
"Castle," she moans, "Rick please!" and he's moving towards her clit, humming against her skin, the low timbre vibrating straight through her and he knows she's waiting for it… waiting…
But it doesn't come.
He's stopped. Completely.
Her eyes pop open, connect with his in utter disbelief as he stares up at her, breathing hard.
"No," she whispers, trying to be firm. But her voice is raw and wanton. He still doesn't move.
"Please," she pants, canting her body towards him but he will not be swayed. He can see coherency return slowly to her eyes as the impending climax retreats, fades.
"Damnit!" Her head flops back to the pillow and she flings an arm across her face, covering her eyes as her chest heaves, drops of sweat pooling between her breasts. "You are cruel," she moans, her voice muffled by her arm. "Vindictive, vicious, vacillating villain."
He stutters a disbelieving, highly turned on groan. "If you can still use alliteration like that I've obviously been doing a terrible job."
"Not terrible," she shakes her head. "Good job. Very, very, very good job."
His ego swells for a moment before his brain catches up to him. "Did you seriously just say the word vacillating?"
"Castle, focus."
"Four syllables… at a time like this…"
"I'm not going to apologize for my brain's capacity to recover so quickly."
"So hot…" he begins to say, but then pauses and looks at her. "Kate. Do you just realize you issued me a challenge?"
She raises an eyebrow.
It's his brain racing now, calculating, scheming. "So before… talking about how you trust me…"
"I do," she says slowly. "If you want to do things your way, you can. You don't have to always follow what I say."
"So if one time we happen to be in, say, my living room, and the sudden urge for you takes over me, I can just bend you over the back of the couch and fuck you till all those four syllable words just melt away?"
Her eyes widen and she swallows thickly. "Umm…"
His hands tighten around her and that deep growl she discovered she likes so very much, returns. "Fuck you so hard you can't walk the next day?"
"Something like that… yeah," she breathes. "Yes," she repeats, nodding rather vigorously.
He opens his mouth to speak but she cuts him off.
"But that's for another day," she says. "For the moment, I believe you're already busy." Her eyes sharply move down her own body, indicating in no uncertain terms what she wants.
"You just said I don't have to do what you say," he smirks, his voice pitched low.
Her glare could level buildings. He wants so hard to resist her but feels his resolve quickly crumble. Damn! He doesn't have to give in to her, but he wants to. And there's nothing wrong with that, his inner alpha male tries to convince itself. He looks down her body. She's still gleaming in the candlelight, her sheen calling to him. Ah, to hell with it.
He repositions himself into a comfortable spot and lowers his head to her, lapping at the sweat between her breasts, latching onto a nipple and biting, hard, before moving down and losing himself once more in her searing heat. It takes no time at all to work her back up again. Her cries, curses and Castle's fill the air again, his new favourite song. He builds her up then lets her down once more. Before she can complain again he's back at it, tireless, wanting only to help her, this wild, untamed being, achieve her greatest heights.
Then he's biting down on her clit and for the second time that day he makes her scream. Her voice fills the room as her thighs clamp down on his head, nearly suffocating him, almost breaking his neck as he lets go of her hips and lets her fly.
When her inner muscles stop trying to squeeze the life from his tongue he gently pulls out. He listens attentively to every gasp, every nuance of her ragged breathing as he softly licks, soothing, helping her down. When her breathing finds a faint rhythm of normalcy he dives back in, furiously swiping at her and she squeals, her whole body jerking at the sudden assault on her over-stimulated nerves.
"No," she cries. "Shit, Castle, I can't…"
But he keeps going, doesn't let up, latches onto her clit until white light explodes in her mind, wiping away all thought, all knowledge, all reason. Kate doesn't scream this time, can't, no air in her lungs, her blood boiling and racing, a live-wire short circuiting. The pleasure is so searing it hurts, hurts so fucking good, slicing through her, burning her alive. Castle keeps going until he feels her body shut down, incapable of feeling anything more and slumping to the bed in a sweaty heap, utterly and completely spent. He thinks she might have actually passed out and can't help the smug grin from gracing his features. He lifts his head from her, face shiny with her essence, flushed with excitement. He's on the verge himself just from being able to bring her such ecstasy. He slowly drags himself off of her, his limbs heavy, feeling like he'd just run a marathon. He lowers himself at her side, facing her. Her eyes are closed.
"Kate?" he whispers, reaching out to brush sweat soaked hair from her forehead, curling it around her ear. Her body shifts, head canting towards his hand but she doesn't speak and he's still not sure if she's conscious or not.
"Kate?" he tries again. She shifts again, nuzzling his hand and her eyes finally open.
The love, pure, true, that shines from her eyes is the single most amazing thing she's ever done for him, ever given him. Then her red lips mush together and curl into the most adorable, satisfied smile he's ever seen. She makes a noise, wordless, some kind of contented sigh as she shuffles her body towards him. The light shudder that wracks her body tells him how much effort it takes, how she's still feeling the after effects of his attentions. He lies down on his back, allowing her easier passage onto his chest. The detective manages to sprawl halfway onto him before giving up. He feels her smile against his chest, feels her try to kiss his skin but her body still before it happens.
He knows she's asleep now.
Castle wraps his arms around her, tucks her into him as closely as possible, breathing her deeply in. His eyes grow heavy as his hands skim over the soft skin of her back, tripping over the ridges of her spine. This is his favourite place to be. He could stay like this, wrapped up with her, forever.
He's sure as hell going to try.
To Be Continued…
Author's notes: So I'm not actually very happy with this chapter. It was supposed to be short and beautiful and sweet and then they started talking in the middle of it, and I don't like some of the phrasing/flow of some things and… well, I don't know. I can only hope you guys enjoyed it after the long wait; please let me know!
Sorry for the delay, btw. Life reared its big 'ole head and smacked me in the face with busyness! I have the next chapter already in the works, hoping to get posted by the weekend J If I survive "The Final Frontier" tomorrow, that is. I am seriously SUCH a scifi geek… Castle and rampant Geekdom TOGETHER might just finish me!