A/N: It's pornado time again, yay! Check out tumblr for more delicious smutty goodness this weekend.
This little PWP takes place in 6x03, when Beckett and McCord unexpectedly show up at the 12th. It occurred to me that that's probably the first time Castle and Beckett have seen each other in person since he almost died in DC in 6x02, and although we don't know exactly how long it's supposed to have been, surely it's long enough that they must be pretty darn horny... yet there doesn't seem to be much (or any?) fic that addresses this. A woeful oversight if you ask me. So here's one version of how that reunion could have gone... :)
Captain Gates and the boys aren't happy about Beckett and McCord taking over their investigation, but they capitulate, of course; they don't have much choice. Ryan takes McCord off to the room where he's got the victim's laptop and phone, while Esposito and Sully put their heads together over the victim's financials, pulling together what they've got to give the feds.
That leaves Castle and Beckett alone together in the middle of the bullpen, looking at each other.
"Hey," she says with a soft smile, shifting closer to him. He knows he's probably grinning like a fool, but he can't help it - he's just so happy to see his fiancée.
"Hey yourself," he answers as his arm slides around her waist and pulls her in for a kiss.
Before Beckett left the Twelfth to work for the feds, she had a strict 'no PDA at the precinct' rule. But now, she's kissing him back, and he can feel the coiled tension in her body, the banked heat behind her kiss. He knows how hard she's working to restrain herself when her hand comes up, lightly squeezing the back of his neck as if in warning.
They haven't seen each other in nearly two weeks, and that's just much too long.
"Surprise?" she hums against his lips, breaking the kiss too soon, pulling back.
Castle's grin widens even more. "Best surprise. I can't believe you didn't tell me you were coming." He loops his arm through hers and moves toward the rear hallway.
"I didn't know yet, when we FaceTimed this morning," she explains, falling into step with him, as natural as always. He nods, gives a little smirk.
"Figures. No way you'd have been that cool and collected if you were already planning this."
"Hey," she scolds with a mild glare. "Are you maligning my acting abilities?"
"Never," he chuckles. "Wouldn't dream of it."
While they talk, he has been steering her down the quieter, less well-lit section of the back corridor, and now, just as he expected, she notices. "What are you-" she begins, and Castle, still smirking, quickly yanks open the door he was aiming for and whisks them both inside the supply closet.
"Castle!" Beckett exclaims, but he doesn't waste another minute. He twists the lock and pulls her tightly against him, covering her mouth with his again. He kisses her the way he never would in the bullpen: deep and hot, a little messy with the urgency of it. She moans, her rigid stance softening immediately against him, her hands coming up to thread into his hair, and she's kissing him back, her tongue meeting his, the wet slide so delicious that his whole body buzzes with it.
Their mouths still locked together, he steers her deeper into the storage space, toward the rear wall behind a tall shelving unit. Her back hits the wall and they finally part for breath, both panting. Her fingers tighten in his hair as he drags his lips along her cheek, reveling in the familiar taste of her skin.
Castle tries to push his hand up inside Beckett's shirt, but the tight form-fitting button-down defeats him. He grunts in frustration, nips at her earlobe as he gets his hands up between their bodies and fumbles at the buttons on the shirt. "Get this out of my way," he grumbles. He tears his mouth away from that sweet spot on her jaw to look down, admiring the curves of her cleavage as it's revealed. Beckett's breasts are heaving against the fabric, her breathing loud in his ears as she rolls her hips against him, making him groan.
It's a measure of how long they've been apart that she isn't protesting, doesn't try to stop him, doesn't say anything like We shouldn't or We can't or Not here. He knows she'd be saying those things if she weren't so desperate for him, wanting him as badly as he wants her. All she says, as her hand drifts down to toy with the button of his pants, is "The case-"
"We'll get right back to it," he promises, gasping as her hand slips lower and cups him through his pants. "Oh god, Kate. I missed you so much." He surges back up to capture her lips again, but only for a moment, because her shirt finally falls open and he doesn't even bother trying to work the bra - just digs in through the top of the cup and gets his fingers around her nipple.
She lets out another moan and bites his lip. "Missed you too," she rasps. The flesh of her breast is hot in his hand, the nipple a hard little point between his fingertips. He rolls it back and forth, savoring the silky soft feel of her skin, the pinch of her fingernails on his bicep. She curls one of her legs around his, bringing their hips into alignment, making them both moan again.
"Rick," she gets out, and he shivers anew. He can never get tired of hearing her say his name, especially in that throaty, half-undone tone.
He lowers his head and presses his open mouth to the curve of her breast, kissing and licking, using his hand to push the bra cup farther down so he can get his tongue around the tightened little bud of her nipple. Kate moans and arches her back, making him wince when he hears her skull hit the wall, but she doesn't seem to mind or even notice. She's still clutching his bicep with one hand, anchoring herself and allowing her to slide her calf slowly up and down against his, driving him crazy.
Her other hand is still at his groin, and he realizes belatedly that she has gotten his pants button open and is working the zipper down. The pants are already painfully tight, and the light brush of her fingers against him isn't helping any.
The zipper reaches the bottom of its track, easing the pressure somewhat, and he releases her nipple from his mouth with a pop as he reaches down to pull her hand away. "Don't," he grunts, and she huffs in protest when he presses her wrist to the wall.
"Want to feel you," she complains, tightening her leg around his, pulling their groins together again. Sparks of pleasure go flying across his skin and his eyes briefly slam shut, but he forces them back open, lifting his head from her breasts.
"My turn first," he asserts, and before Beckett can muster an objection, he flicks her own pants open and shoves his hand inside.
A harsh gasp bursts out of her throat as her back arches, her eyes meeting his, glassy with arousal. Her lips move, but no words come out. Castle's fingers dip lower, and he holds her gaze, lets her see his amazement and delight at what he finds.
"God, Kate, you're so wet," he groans. His fingertips slip and slide against her flesh, parting her folds and teasing at the little bud between them.
She drops her head forward and presses her cheek to his, her whole body tense and practically vibrating against him as he strokes her. "Thinking about you," she pants into his ear. "On - on the plane."
"On the plane?" He grins, delighted. "That's so hot, Kate." His hand slides lower until he can get one finger inside her, the silky heat of her body gripping him, making him shiver. He pulls it slowly out and thrusts back in again, loving the mental image of Beckett strapped into her economy-class seat, McCord by her side, silently turning herself on by thinking about him.
And whatever it was that went through her mind during that flight, it certainly got her worked up. He can't believe how close she is already, trembling between the wall and his body, her hand gripping his bicep. He pulls back a little so he can enjoy the sight - one of his favorites - Kate Beckett with her head thrown back, lips parted, eyes half closed in pleasure as he slips another finger inside her.
She moans again and he feels her inner muscles tighten around his fingers, his whole hand drenched with her desire. He knows how much she loves it when he adds a second finger, his digits broad and thick, filling her up.
He also knows that all she needs is a little more stimulation and she'll be tumbling over the edge. He twists his wrist so that he can get his thumb into position, pressing down on the slippery little bundle of nerves while his fingers thrust again, and sure enough, just like that, she's gone. She buries her face in his shoulder as she comes, muffling the noises that burst up her throat while her whole body shudders and writhes against his.
Castle realizes that he's grinning like an idiot again. He'll never, never get tired of making Kate Beckett come. It's definitely his all-time favorite activity.
He keeps his hand moving, slower and gentler now, his fingers sliding in and out, his thumb rubbing lightly, working her through the aftershocks as her body goes loose and limp against the wall. In another minute she stirs, groans, drops her hand to his forearm, stilling him.
"Enough, enough," she breathes, and he slides his hand out of her pants, a little regretfully. He would happily have stayed in there, worked her up again, but he knows they're going to run out of time.
He takes a half-step back, giving her some room, and brings his hand up to his mouth, tasting her on his fingers. But Kate surges forward, pulling him against her again, bringing their lips together again. She spins them so that he's the one with his back to the wall, her body once again plastered against his, and her hand lands on his groin, squeezing him through his boxers.
He groans urgently, his hips thrusting into her hand of their own volition. "Kate," he rasps, suddenly at a loss for words. He feels her smiling into the kiss. He tries to force his eyes open, but they drift shut again in agonizing pleasure when her fingers tease along the length of him, the roughness of the fabric only heightening the sensation.
"My turn," she whispers. He tries to reach for her but she slips easily out of his grasp, and when he finally does manage to get his eyes open, she's on her knees.
He moans again, his chest heaving with each deep breath. He's already almost undone and she has barely even touched him yet. It's going to be embarrassingly quick, he thinks fleetingly, but that's all the coherent thought he has left, and it flies out of his mind immediately when he feels her hand on him again.
She pulls him free from his boxers and takes him into her mouth without hesitation. The wet heat of her feels so perfect, so good - the words burst out of his mouth, "so good, Kate, oh god," and he sees her smirking around him. The familiar sparkle in her eye that tells him how much she loves doing this to him, turning him into a babbling mess with the hot slide of her lips and tongue. Just like he knows her, she also knows him: knows exactly how he likes it, the best way to swirl her tongue and hollow her cheeks and drive him out of his mind.
Castle lets the wall take his weight, his knees more than a little wobbly as Beckett moves her mouth up and down on his shaft, her hands stroking in rhythm. He presses his palms flat to the wall and focuses all his self-control on keeping himself upright and holding back the noises that bubble up his throat. When she finally brings him up and over the edge, spilling out into her mouth, he has to clamp his teeth down around his lower lip to keep himself quiet. His eyes slam shut again and everything goes blank for a long, long moment.
He rouses when he feels Kate tucking him back into his pants, zipping him up, and rising to her feet. When he pries his eyes open, he finds her closing up her own pants, and then she's adjusting her bra, settling her breasts back into the cups. The sight of her hands on her breasts makes him groan again with desire, the need for her nowhere near satisfied.
"Not enough," he sighs. "I need a horizontal surface and a few hours alone with you. And a lot less clothing."
Kate glances over at him from under her eyelashes, her fingers now busily buttoning up her shirt. "I know," she says softly, and he sees the banked fire in her eyes, matching his own. "But we have a case to solve, and they're going to be wondering where we went."
"Yeah." Castle sighs again and straightens up, away from the wall, composing himself. "Right. First things first."
She grins a little. Moving closer to him, she presses her lips to his cheek in a tacit promise. "This was first things, babe. Thanks for taking the edge off."
He huffs a short laugh, wrapping his hands around her hips and brushing his mouth lightly across hers. "Ditto." Then he releases her, because it's dangerous, just putting his hands on her right now. "Later?" he says hopefully. "At the loft?"
"Count on it," she nods. Her hand is on the doorknob. Just as she pulls the door open, she glances back over her shoulder at him, quirks an eyebrow, and adds, "Maybe I'll have a few more surprises for you."
And she's gone, striding down the corridor to rejoin McCord in the conference room while Castle is still trying to collect himself.
Best surprise ever.