Please note that this is rated M. If you don't like anything beyond a bit of kissing turn back now!
The Magnitude of These Small Hours
The first blue hints of dawn are starting to cast an ethereal glow over the loft. When Castle speaks, she lets the vibrations roll through her, and her cheek molds to the movement of his Adam's Apple.
"You must be exhausted, Kate."
"I'm okay, actually, but I wouldn't mind if you took me back to bed now," she says with a mischievous little grin.
He scoops her up off the couch and carries her towards the bedroom, wiping the smirk off her face with his own eager mouth.
They're passing through his office when the magnitude of it all hits him again. She's trailing her fingers over the smooth surface of his desk. She looks so shy and curious that Castle takes a moment to just stand in the doorway and watch. Seeing her there, wearing his clothes, stroking the desk where he writes about her -
It's too much.
He's on her in a second, gathering her body roughly up against his. She comes willingly, fitting into his arms with an ease beyond anything he ever imagined. He cradles her face in one hand and lets his thumb drift over her lower lip. She's so unexpectedly soft. Her lips. The curve on the underside of each breast. The warm, smooth junctures of her thighs, and the unthinkably soft, tight heat hidden between them. He's loved Detective Beckett the cop for years - he wasn't prepared for how fast and hard he'd fall for Kate Beckett the woman.
"God, I've wanted you for so long," he says, his voice hoarse with arousal.
And then he takes her mouth with his. His lips close around her bottom one, sucking and caressing. He's delighted by the noise she makes - it's identical to the one she made during their very first kiss.
Kate's hands slide up under the fabric of his shirt, over all that smooth muscle, and suddenly the undertow of lust she sees in his eyes is taking her down too. She's always liked sex, but the prospect of getting to have sex with him again is staggering. The borrowed boxers she's wearing are damp. She's pretty sure they've been that way since she put them on, wet with the remnants of their second round. When Castle backs her up against his desk, the hard edge digging into the backs of her thighs, a fresh slickness gathers.
His hardness is still muted, wrapped in jersey, and she's so eager to feel him again that she hikes herself up onto his desk and uses her toes to push his boxers off, hands flying to his shoulders to keep her balance.
He grabs the back of her head as he deepens his kiss. She's never really felt that a kiss could devour her but this one is. He's so strong and wide above her, but she still thinks she could get the upper hand back pretty easily. Strangely, she doesn't want to. That's new. She doesn't fight him as he tears her shirt off and lays her down.
She gasps at the cold wood on her bare skin, and at the jumble of items pressing into her back - the corner of his laptop, a pen or two, a remote, a pad of sticky notes maybe.
"Castle, your laptop - I don't want to - don't wanna break it - " she pants as she hears the plastic cover groan in protest under her weight.
"Don't care," he huffs between kisses. "Have backup. Besides, I'd chose the real you over typed Nikki smut any day." He tugs his boxers off of her then, and then runs his palms roughly over the inside of her thighs.
She lets out a whimper. She's naked on his desk. She wonders if she looks anything like the silhouette on the cover of Naked Heat. It strikes her suddenly that this is where Castle sat when he wrote the scene with Nikki and Rook and the tequila. This is possibly where he first thought about what she'd look like naked - okay, the fictional version of her, but still. Has he sat here alone in the dark of night, turning himself on with his own imagination? She's thought about him before, and he's a guy, so she's always been realistic about the possibility of Castle using her as … inspiration.
Maybe, if the loft was empty, he'd have felt brave enough to let his palm wrap around himself through his underwear. Maybe he's even pulled himself out into the cool air, tilted his head back and closed his eyes, and thought about how much better it would feel if it was her mouth on his cock instead of the tight, dry fist of his own hand.
She can definitely picture it, and fuck, it's hot.
Castle straightens so he can pull off his own shirt, and the absence of his touch, even though it's only for a few seconds, pulls her back down to earth.
And even though her world is soaked through with the glory of all this touching, she remembers with a jolt just who she's slept with. Is sleeping with.
Her partner, her co-worker. The nine-year old on a sugar rush. The person whose bedpost she once swore she'd never be a notch on. And when she opens her eyes to the man above her, she's completely thrown off by the dark desire she sees gleaming in his eyes. This is not the Castle she's used to.
The teasing was safe. Easy. Fun. This intoxicating, deep pleasure is on another level entirely.
Suddenly she feels alone and open on the desk, and when he reaches for the elastic at her waist, she stops him with one hand and covers her eyes with the other.
"Kate," he whispers, dropping kisses to each of her knuckles. The warmth of his body returns, covering her chest, and it makes her feel a little better.
"Every time I close my eyes, I seem to stop believing that it's you I'm touching, kissing."
"It is me. Just me. Sorry." What does he mean by that?
"Sorry? Castle, no. That's not what I mean at all." How could he think that? After the last few hours, after the last few years?
"It's never been like this for me," she whispers. "Maybe it's why I was so afraid of us, because it's so overwhelming. This is all so different; I can't believe you're the same Castle who's been pulling my pigtails all these years."
"Hmm." He props his chin up on her sternum and pretends to think. "What can I say to help remind you that it's me?"
"I don't know. Just kiss me, I'll get past it." But instead of obeying, he smoothes his hands from where they're curved around her ribcage over her hips and down to her knees. He's never pushed her emotions aside, has always encouraged her to feel them. She loves that about him.
"I'm a little in shock too, if that makes you feel any better," he says carefully. "It's an enormous shift."
"Yeah. You feel it too?"
"Yeah, of course. Loving someone from the sidelines and then getting to love them for real? Touch them for the first time in any significant way? It's huge, Kate."
She combs her fingers through his hair, a little embarrassed by how much she loves this man.
"Yesterday, I'd get hard every time I helped you get into your coat. Because touching your hair, feeling the heat rise from your neck, smelling that infuriatingly delicious shampoo - I just couldn't help myself. Did you know that?"
"No," she whispers.
"That's because we weren't this yet. I had to hide it from you. And now, feel," he says, guiding her hand to the front of his boxers. "I don't have too. That's kind of cool, right?"
She laughs, then squeezes him. It is very cool. Almost as cool as knowing what's inside the pants she's been fantasizing about for a while now.
"And regarding touching - yesterday, I was lucky if my fingers got to brush your neck. Today, I can touch you in so many other places. Like here," he says, tracing an arc from one hipbone to the other, over the soft, jumping flesh that holds all the parts that make her a woman, "and here," he says, dragging her underwear off and coming back to run the rough print of his index finger through her folds, up one crease and down another. Delicately. Carefully. She fights for air.
"Yesterday, I knew what your mouth tasted like, from one extraordinary kiss, and now," he kneels before her and spreads her open, "I've tasted you here."
His tongue replaces his fingers, exploring the flesh he'd just awakened. He spreads her wetness from her opening upwards and finishes with a French kiss to her clit that makes her whole body twitch.
"Yesterday, I was your partner," he says, sliding one of his stocky fingers into her. "Your plucky sidekick." He adds another. "And today I'm more. A lot more, I hope." He finishes by landing his thumb on her clit.
"Everything," she pants. "You're everything." He's moving now, the push and pull of his fingers, the circling of his thumb, all of it working in tandem to tease a waterfall of tingles from her nerves.
And then he's doing something that makes her clamp her legs together on his face, and she's squirming under him.
"Oh, fuck - Castle - " she's trying to pry his fingers away but he carefully interlocks them with his own and drags her hand away from herself. With the fingers he has buried inside her, he zeroes in on the spot that had her writhing.
She looks drugged out of her mind and her voice is colored with wondrous disbelief when she asks him what he's doing, in between what look like completely uncontrollable tosses of her head. He hears the thunk of bone on wood and hopes that she's not going to knock herself out.
"What? You didn't know this was here?" He presses up harder, directly under her clit, and rubs.
"Uh - I - holy FUCK!" she screams. "Stop - stop, I think I'm gonna - "
He does stop, just for a second. She whines in protest. They will definitely need to arrange more clear safe word. She obviously didn't really want him to stop.
"Am I hurting you?" he asks.
"No - it just feels like I'm going to, um, pee or something when you do that."
"Trust me?" he says, rubbing her clit slowly, sending sparks climbing back up the ladder of her spine.
"O- okay," she stutters.
He starts to move again, sharp and determined, seeking to replicate the exact combination of movements he had going before that made her scream.
She's breathing hard, and in the early dawn light he can see a mottled pink flush start to take over her body, her blood rushing under the strain of a thousand muscles tensing and coiling.
And then she stops breathing altogether. Her eyes fly open and wildly seek out his own. She clamps down hard around his fingers. He presses two more tight circles, one inside, one out, and she croaks out his name as she comes all over his hand.
Like actually all over his hand. He's soaking, and she's still gushing, and he can actually hear the sound of drops hitting the hardwood floor beneath them. Most of her wetness is on his hand. Seeing as she's hanging halfway off the desk, even her thighs have missed getting very wet.
She's gone completely limp on the table, and her skin is shining and dappled pink. He'd suspected that he'd found her g-spot, but he hadn't been expecting that. He's damn proud.
He's seen her come three times now, and he wonders how each one of them can be the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.
He presses kisses onto her trembling thighs, lets his tongue dart out to lick up the sheen of sweat. He's getting harder by the second, turned on by the complete mess she's made of his floor. Not to mention a silly, buoyant sense of pride. He's worked really hard to be good in bed, but achieving that? On their first night together? Damn. But then again, he's always know that they'd be great together.
He finds the grey puddle that is his Luke Skywalker shirt on the table next to her arm and wipes some of the wetness from his hand, but honestly, he doesn't mind being covered in Kate, so he only does a half-ass job of drying himself before he gently slides his hands under her back, curving her up against him and lifting her.
She winds around him like a sleepy koala, and her eyes stay closed, her breathing still ragged and body still spent.
He lays her down on the bed. It's a sea of wrinkles. His eye is drawn for a second to where the fitted sheet is coming off of one corner.
Once she's laid out flat, Kate blinks, finally coming down from her high. He crawls over her to kiss her. It's slow then, how she finds him with her hand as they're kissing, stroking him from base to tip. She lazily works him up, and he runs his hands over her breasts and stomach, trying to stir her nerve endings back to life.
"Why are your hands wet?" she whispers.
"Uh - it's you."
"Me? What do you mean?"
"When you came - "
"Oh my god." She rolls out from under him, mortified.
"Come back here," he grates, pulling her back and pinning her down with his weight. "It was gorgeous. And it looked like it felt amazing."
She turns her head to the side, squeezing her eyes shut. "Kate? Have you ever done that before?"
She shakes her head no and brings a hand up to press over her eyelids.
"Hey. I'm honored," he says, and then he gently pries her fingers from her face. He waits for her to open her eyes, and when she does, he fixes her with his most devoted, genuine stare.
She surges up to kiss him, but then she squirms out from under him. He gets his bearings back to find her standing by the bed tugging on his hand.
"Let's just go clean you up, okay," she says, ducking her head.
They're halfway to the bathroom when he realizes he doesn't want to get cleaned up.
He crowds her up against the wall next to the bathroom door and closes her mouth with his own. He doesn't have time for words, so he pulls back from the kiss to ask her with his eyes if this is okay. Her own hazel ones are alight when she gives him her encouragement, wrapping one leg high around his waist and tilting her pelvis up. They're aligned already, their heights a perfect match.
He presses up into her in one swift, sharp thrust. As hot as wall sex is, his body is quickly running out of energy, so he spins them both and tosses her back onto the bed. He's about to start in on her again - shit, when did he start having sex like a damn animal? - when she turns away from him and scrambles up onto her hands and knees.
His mouth goes dry.
And then he really is out of control, snagging her hips and pulling her to the very edge of the bed, guiding himself inside and memorizing the angle and position of her so he can draw back and just pound.
The round on the bed was tender, slow, and perfect. The shower had been slow too, all about teasing out their orgasms. But this - this is carnal. This is raw.
And it's definitely not going to last long.
She's cussing again when he feels himself tighten, and he blindly reaches around to help her fall with him, but finds her fingers already hard at work, and that fact alone pushes him over the edge.
They come together, names clashing with groans. The pleasure devastates them for whole seconds before they collapse.
Their bodies give up then. The day has been simultaneously one of the worst and quite possibly the best, in both of their lives. Castle barely has the strength to pull the sheets up over them. They don't have time to think or talk at all before they both pass out.
When Castle wakes up again, it's nearly ten.
He sits up, pulse pounding hard. He scans the room, his heart falling with a sickening thud somewhere south of his ribcage when he sees that the other side of the bed is empty and the bathroom door is open and in shadow.
Then he hears her footsteps.
Kate comes through the open doorway with two cups of coffee in hand. She's radiant. She's the most beautiful woman he's ever seen, but this morning she's just luminous.
She stayed. Last night was real. Every minute of it - every kiss, every apology, every long moment of ecstasy.
And then she speaks, and she brings them into the daylight with her words, and he knows this is really, truly, finally happening between them.
"Made you a coffee."
A/N: How's that for a "Even the part where I - ?" :) That was a little more hardcore than my usual writing; hope it was okay.
This last chapter would never have made it out without my dear friend Meg's help and inappropriate messages - you are amazing and so much fun.
Thank you all so much for going on this little journey with me into the world of the night after 'Always.' I know there are lots of stories about this episode out there already, so thank you for all the follows, faves, and reviews! I truly appreciate it and I love writing for you guys. Your thoughts - and just the fact that there's anyone out there reading my words - make me smile a dozen times a day.
Until next fic,