A/N: Let's pretend it is still winter in NYC. Beckett finds herself in an awkward and potentially dangerous situation and reaches out to Castle. He helps her without hesitating but the fact that she lied to him burns hot in his chest. Post "47 Seconds". Spoilers for Seasons 3 & 4. Rated M.
This is my first attempt to write a fanfiction story. Feedback is most welcomed! :)
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Castle. Sadly…
Sin by Silence: The Burning Truths
She hated winter. The cold unfriendly weather reminded her of how she almost froze to death last year. It was seven o'clock in the evening when she left the precinct. She was the last one to leave as so many times before. Laine and Javi were on a non-date at the movies. Ryan was the ever loving husband that rushed home to his wife as soon as work was over. While she was still fighting that cursed wall. Dr. Burke helped her see through all the confusion in her mind and heart, but it was up to her to change her life. No psychiatrist could save her, no friend could point out to her the obvious truth, and no writer could rewrite the ending after all has been said and done.
She stepped up the road. It was the coldest winter in NYC since 1934. The thermometers showed fifteen degrees under zero. People walked around wrapped in their coats and hats, unrecognizable at first sight. If it wasn't for the street and traffic lights they could as well be statists in a film noir. It felt visceral to Beckett.
She stopped at the crossing line. The cars moved slowly in front of her. She was going to freeze if she didn't get home fast.
It was then that she heard a man behind her arguing with a young woman. Beckett turned to observe him. He looked upset. If he got too aggressive, she would have to intervene.
The man turned to her and cried out, "Watch it!"
She was confused for a second but then she felt something hit her hard. She tried to catch her balance but it knocked her off. Her purse fell to the ground, its content spilling out.
"Are you okay?" the man that argued with the young woman knelt down to her and offered his hand.
She nodded, "What happened?"
"A mad cycler collided with you," he replied and hinted at the shop-window. "Are you sure you are alright?"
"I'm fine. Thank you," she replied and took his hand to stand up. She could see now the poor cyclist lying on his side, his bike crooked against the broken shop-window. He was moaning in pain.
"I guess the brakes stopped working," commented a man beside him.
"Did anyone call an ambulance?" Beckett asked and a woman nodded silently.
She looked down at her feet. Her mobile lay shattered on the ground near her pocket book and a black stylus. She exhaled deeply and picked up her things.
"I can't find my keys and wallet," she looked all around her.
"They probably fell in the shaft," said the man that helped her get up.
She sighed exasperatedly. What was she going to do without the keys of her apartment and no money? A disturbing thought passed her mind. Castle, where are you? She pondered all her other options but it was pretty clear that he was the only one she could turn to. She didn't want to disturb Laine and Espo. Ryan was unreachable after seven o'clock since he got married. And her father was out of town.
The little crowd around her got dispersed and she realized that she would have to walk to Castle's apartment. There was only one problem. It was forty minutes away by feet and the night was getting colder by the minute. She pressed her lips together stubbornly and sped up her step. Maybe if she walked faster she wouldn't feel the chill set in.
She was walking for about ten minutes when her fingers started to ache from the cold and her rib throb under her skin. She could have taken a cab but there was none nearby. She cursed and breathed hard. She didn't imagine her day would end like this. She started feeling tired but she knew she shouldn't stop, not in this weather.
She reminded herself that bars were still open. Maybe she could call a cab from there since she couldn't call Castle because she was too lazy to remember his cell number.
"Sorry, miss, the lines have been down for at least an hour now," the bartender in the closest bar apologized when she asked him to call her a cab.
He shrugged, "Must be the weather. But I can take you home after I'm done here."
She smiled and politely declined.
She stepped out on the street and walked resignedly on. Burke's words came to her mind.
"What are you afraid of, Kate? That he won't wait for you or that he will?"
She didn't answer him then. She was terrified of both possibilities. Her heart would crush if she found out he gave up on her. She still tried to forget the disappointment she felt when she watched him walk out of the precinct with his ex-wife. But she was also terrified of letting go because it would be the first time in her life that she would step into a relationship with her heart at stake.
She looked ahead of her. There were still fifteen minutes that separated her from Castle's apartment. Her limbs felt numb and her skin tingled severely. And as if that wasn't enough, her rib started to ache painfully. She tried to stay focused. Castle's apartment was just another ten minutes away and she'd been in much worse situations. But even so the tiredness mixed with the unpleasantly cold weather crept in and she wondered if she wasn't risking frostbite. Her head started to ache.
Finally, she reached the building. The super greeted her politely.
She smiled back weakly.
"Are you alright?" he asked in concern when he saw her pale face.
She nodded and rushed to the elevator. The building was heated but she was too cold to feel anything. She thought she was going to faint. She reached Castle's door and rang the bell.
He opened the door. "Beckett?"
His eyes widened when he realized how pale she was. Her hair was wet and slightly disheveled, her nose red, and her eyes wide and upset.
"Come on in," he said and stepped aside. She walked pass him but her legs gave in. He caught her and lifted her in his arms.
"Beckett?" he asked alarmed. "Beckett, talk to me!"
"I'm so cold ..." her voice trailed off.
It didn't take Castle long to figure what was going. Dry and pale skin, slow and shallow breathing, weakening pulse, apathy... He studied those symptoms very carefully after their near-death experience in the freezer. He was about to use them in his next book.
He had no time to waste. He rushed to the bathroom.
"Beckett, stay with me," he said and sat her on a chair near his bathtub. He let the water run.
"I'm here," her voice was still weak.
"I need to get you out of these clothes."
He didn't have time to wait for her answer. He unbuttoned and removed her coat while she shivered with cold. He stripped off her sweater, undershirt and socks.
"Grab my shoulders," he ordered and she did.
He lifted her up and unbuttoned her pants. She was too weak to care that his fingers undid the fly on her pants and brushed over her sensitive skin there. He sat her down on the chair again, wearing only her bra and panties. He turned the tap off and felt the water, making sure it wasn't too hot.
"Good," he said to himself. He turned to her and helped her get up. She looked as if no life was left inside of her. White as a sheet and exhausted.
"Are you able to lift your leg?"
He positioned her in front of the bathtub so that she could lean against his chest for support and held his hands. She stepped in the warm water with one leg and then the other. She could barely feel the warmth spreading to her knees and thighs.
"Alright. Be careful, I don't want you to slip."
"Castle?" she looked at him with a glint of shyness in her eyes.
"Take off my bra."
He wasn't sure he heard her correctly. Surely, she didn't want to be that exposed in front of him. She saw his confusion and placed his hand on her back.
"Please. It feels cold." Her voice trembled.
He snapped out of his reverie and unclasped the small piece of garment. He removed it gently and placed it on the chair. He was still holding her right hand in his. It felt so cold. He helped her lower down slowly and seat in the bathtub. She exhaled heavily when she hit the bottom. Her breath rolled out and danced on the surface of the water. Her eyes closed.
His breath got caught in his throat when he looked at her. Her skin might have been pale and her eyes weary but she looked beautiful to him. He instantly chided himself. He made a promise that he would not get involved with her again.
She looked at him weakly and with such trust only a blind man would miss. But his heart closed off to her. She lied to him about her shooting, made him feel foolish to the extreme. It was cowardly of her.
He stood up to leave. She was safe now. The water would warm her up, he would make her a cup of hot tea, and soon she'd be out of his life again.
But she grabbed his hand tightly. "Castle."
He turned to her. Her eyes seemed darker than usual.
"Stay with me."
He hesitated for a moment, pressed his jaw together. He was tired to read between the lines.
His blue eyes bored into her.
She was unsure why but she saw anger in his eyes. She wanted to say something meaningful but found no suitable words. Instead, she curled her fingers with his.
His skin was smooth and comforting, and for a moment she let herself imagine how it would feel to have his body pressed against hers. She sighed and brushed the back of his hand against her cheek. Her eyes closed.
She heard him call her name.
"Open your eyes," he was concerned that she would fall asleep.
"I need you to stay awake."
She let go of his hand. "I know."
She ran her digits over his face and stopped on his lower lip. She knew how it felt to have it her mouth. The taste of it. She kept pretending their kiss was just an undercover act, an efficient game cops played to put criminals behind bars. And it would be true if she hadn't gone in for a second time. She moaned when their lips rejoined, for God's sake.
He stared at her. He would not succumb to the feel of her touch. He would not.
"Castle?" she had that intense look in her eyes again.
"Yes?" his voice was a growl. He cursed himself for having no control when it came to her.
"Get me warm."
He swallowed hard. That was going in the wrong direction, for sure.
He dipped his hand in the water.
"It's still warm," he stated. "Do you want it hotter?"
"No," he shook her head, "get me warm with your hands."
He froze. She shouldn't be asking him that, not after all the pretending and lying.
She laid her head against the edge of the tub. She was waiting for him but he wouldn't move.
"Castle, please. The water's not enough."
Of course. He felt like an idiot. She just wanted to get her blood flowing again.
"Alright," he reached for her hand in the water. She shuddered when he started to stroke her left arm. Her skin was smooth but not yet warm. He applied soft pressure on her muscles to stimulate the blood flow. She sighed when he molded the tired muscles of her neck. His fingers skillfully targeted the right places. He took her left arm and repeated the same treatment. Slowly, she started to feel warm again. The pleasant feeling of being alive and well.
He moved to her legs then. Long, strong, beautiful. He could get lost in all that femininity.
He dipped her fingers into the soft flesh of her foot. How could she lie to him so blatantly? He shook his head. He needed to get her warm, and then he would step aside as usual. He told her mother she might as well be dead, but he knew how untrue it sounded. There really wasn't a switch to turn love off.
He gently kneaded her sole and toes, and her eyes partially closed. She wanted to ask him what was wrong but she didn't trust her voice at that moment. Her breath was coming out in hot puffs.
Seeing the change in her, he slid up her legs and bent her knee. He kneaded her calf and went up slowly to stroke the outside of her thigh. She leaned her head back again and covered her mouth with her hand to make the moan less evident.
He went back down and smoothed his hand over the soft skin under her knee.
She sighed and bit on her hand. The blood in her veins started to prickle.
He proceeded up to the lower side of her thigh, stroking the flesh languidly. There was something irresistible about her vulnerability. Without warning he slid on the inside of her leg joint.
Her eyes shot open and her breath clashed against her hand. He circled his thumb gently over the heated skin, the water making it even more intense. She had to stop him. It was sheer madness, unbearable to the point of rejection. She pressed her thighs together, locking his hand in between.
He looked at her and gasped. Her eyes were dark as the night outside. It seemed as if blood gathered behind them. And then a knock came on the door.
"Richard, is everything okay in there?"
"Yes, mother," there was an edge in his voice he couldn't disguise. "I'll explain tomorrow."
He withdrew his hand at the last word, and she wanted to cry from disappointment.
But she was naïve if she thought he wanted just to turn her on. Because the truth was he wanted to punish her, show her the agony he felt each time she went on a hunt for a lunatic criminal.
He was about to move to her chest when he felt a swelling on one of her ribs. He immediately saw the bruise and stopped. He looked at her questioningly.
She hissed when he applied soft pressure on the offended part.
"Does it hurt?" he asked.
Truth was it hurt a lot. A hot bolt of pain shot through her when the cyclist collided against her, smashing part of the bike's wheel into her ribs.
"Want me to call the doc?"
"No, it's fine."
He studied her face for a moment. He would have been surprised if she had agreed to it.
"What happened out there, Kate?" he finally asked.
She looked at him, "A cyclist run into me."
"Jesus, Beckett. You sure you don't need a doctor?" he asked again.
She shook her head.
He shifted towards her then and reached past her left hip.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "Shift a little, if you can."
"Castle, what are you doing?" she sounded a bit scared.
"Trying to uncap the tub," he replied.
Finally, he got a hold of the cap under her and pulled at it. The level of the water started to drop quickly. He could see the disappointment in her eyes.
"Beckett?" he asked.
Back to Beckett, she thought. "What?"
"You do realize the water got almost cold?" he looked at her seriously.
"Yes … of course," she lied.
She noticed nothing. She felt warm and safe, and when he molded her flesh so caringly, she started to feel dangerously hot. The signs of hypothermia never existed, as far as she was concerned.
"Come on, get up."
She stood up slowly, holding on his hands. The amount of trust she was placing in him made him feel unworthy. She was after all the woman who would take none of his nonsense. But she was also someone who deceived him. And he was never good at accepting deceit.
She held his hands in an effort to step out of the bathtub.
"There you go," he said when she made it.
He grabbed a huge white towel and wrapped her in it. He was adjusting the soft material around her neck when she placed her hands on top of his. He stopped and looked at her. His face was riddled with emotions. Which one would prevail, she couldn't say.
She placed his arms around her waist and stepped closer to him.
He thought he went blind for a second but then he actually saw her head leaning into his chest and felt her arms go around his shoulders. She squeezed him gently and he exhaled silently. She was thanking him, apologizing and shocking him all at once.
He pressed her tightly to him, placing his left hand below her shoulders and the other on her lower back. Maybe the punishing could wait.
Slight tremors went through when his hand brushed her tailbone. She squeezed her eyes shut and grabbed the collar of his shirt. How could one fall so hard for another? She brushed her cheek against his chest and gazed at the small table in front of her eyes. It reminded her of her meetings with Burke.
"How am I supposed to let go?" she asked Burke.
"I can help you. But the question is, are you ready?"
Letting go was never easy, she knew that. But she wanted to be more than who she was so badly.
She nodded slowly at Burke and said, "Yeah, I think I am."
She really did, but sheer will was not always enough to get you out of your own emotional limbo.
He stroked her back lightly and it brought her back to him.
"Where are you, Kate?" he whispered against her hair.
She was always surprised at how well he could read her. In a dark cloud, she wanted to reply.
"Right here, Castle."
She could never just let go with him.
"Yeah, sure," he retorted and she chuckled against his neck. He looked at her and ran his thumb against her cheek. He wanted to tell her he loved her but that would be too easy.
Instead, he lifted her up in his arms in one swift motion and carried her to her bedroom.
"Castle!" she gasped.
He entered his bedroom, kicked aside the books on the floor, uncovered the bed and lay her down on the soft sheet.
"What are you doing?"
He detected fear in her voice.
"You were exposed to low temperatures. I won't take any chances."
He was lying to himself. All he wanted to do at that moment was to be with her – no matter how right or wrong it felt.
He sat beside her and unfolded the towel. "Shift a little."
He tugged the wet towel away and tossed it on the floor. He tried to look composed when he turned to her, but he was shattering to pieces inside. She was stunning. Her hair was completely tousled. Her eyes were dark and deep, and her skin had a shy golden glow. He exhaled slowly and travelled to her chest with his eyes. He felt the need to touch her but refrained.
This wasn't about keeping her alive, anymore.
They gazed at each other. So much was conveyed beyond words.
It was then that something broke inside of her and she whimpered. She couldn't hide any longer. Towels, relationships with men she didn't love, the mask on her face, and the wall in heart – they all had to go.
His heart tightened when he saw the pain she held inside for so long. He drew closer to her and took her hand in his.
"I'm here," he whispered and squeezed her hand. "Let it out."
She looked at him. Tears spilled from her eyes and her body trembled. She couldn't help but think of all the ways he helped her while she just kept her glorified distance. She sobbed and tried to wipe away the salty liquid.
"I promised myself I wouldn't cry," her voice trembled lightly.
He smiled at her. "Always the brave one. But you know, sometimes it's brave to show your weakness and fear."
She looked at him. He was right. It wasn't easy for her to admit weakness.
She rubbed her eyes. "I have so much to tell you."
He lifted his brows.
"Not right now," she added when she saw his expectant reaction.
He nodded. "What do you want right now?"
She hesitated for a moment. He was looking intently at her.
"I want to be in your arms," her eyes held hope.
His heart swelled. She wanted to be in his arms. How stupid he was to think he could just omit his love for her? Without much thought he took off his shirt and kicked off his sneakers.
He was about to lie beside her.
"Pants, too," there was an urgency in her voice.
He looked down at his pants and removed them calmly. She would not rob him of all control, he told himself.
She gasped when she saw his strong body. If it weren't for his black boxers he'd be standing stark naked in front of her.
"Saw something you like?" he provoked her.
"Shut up and come here."
She slightly extended her arms and he accepted them, lying on his side next to her.
"Oh, my God," she gasped when their bodies made full contact.
It was heat and firmness and gentleness.
"Yeah," he groaned.
She placed her hand on his right cheek and stared at him in wonder. His truthful eyes glowed at her. They were drowning her uncertainties so quickly and efficiently that she asked herself what she was waiting for so long in the first place.
"I owe you so much," she whispered and closed her eyes. She wouldn't cry again.
He ran his hands over her shoulder blades, feeling the warmth and smoothness of her skin. His heart thumped in his chest. He fondled her back and stopped on the small of her back. He let his hand stay there, the heat emanating from it sending delicious signals up her spine and deep to her core.
She was melting away.
"Castle," she inhaled deeply and pressed her forehead against his lips.
He kissed her and tilted up her chin. "Look at me."
He started to circle his fingers at the end of her backbone. The feeling was intensely captivating. A loud, deeply evoked moan escaped her lips and she squeezed the bicep on his right arm.
He wanted to make a joke then but decided not to. Too much was at stake.
"You...," she started, "where did you learn that?"
"Took a classic massage class," he tried to hide that he had trouble breathing, too.
Of course, she thought. "Is there something you didn't take a class in?"
Oh, well, she was provoking him now.
"Many things," he replied quickly. "Like 'How to make detective Beckett scream in bed'?"
Her eyes widened and she slapped his arm.
"Hey, that hurt!" he complained like a child.
"Are you implying that I might be inhibited?" she asked directly.
"Okay," she replied with skepticism. "I almost thought I'd have to show you the opposite."
"Show me the opposite?"
"Yeah, you know…," she traced her fingers from his elbow to his collarbone, "… prove how sexually open I really am."
"Open ...?" he had that dumb look on his face that she secretly adored.
"I think you get the point," she touched his lips. "I'd hate you to live under the wrong impression."
He gaped at her. His boxers were barely hiding his straining erection that now brushed against her belly. He felt vulnerable and tried to cover it.
"Don't," she grabbed his hand and placed it on her chest, just above her breasts.
He swallowed hard. He never felt for any woman what he felt for her. But she had to give him a clear sign.
She smiled broadly at him then. Despite all the uncertainties and unspoken feelings between them she could feel their love turning fear into dust. And it was good enough for her.
"Kiss me," she whispered against his lips.
He looked at her chocolate brown eyes and slowly closed the distance between them. She could feel his hot breath against her lips. Tension started to gather in her chest. This wasn't an undercover assignment or a research for his book.
His lips touched hers softly, undemanding, grazing the edges of her mouth. He was giving her time to retreat. But she was done with her retreat and hide techniques for good. Tension was giving way to heat, and she brushed her nose against his. He snaked his hand around her waist, locking her to him.
The feeling of intimacy was overpowering, and soon they asked more of each other. Their bodies collided and he slipped his tongue against her mouth. He was asking her to open herself to him. She moaned and their tongues touched. She could swear that for a moment she saw a spark lighten between them. He groaned and pressed her even harder against his body. She deepened the kiss in response and slid her hands around his neck. It was hot, wet, intoxicating. She didn't know where her mouth ended and his began. He squeezed her bottom and she grinded against his groin. Both gasped, neither stopped. His tongue explored her mouth with such reverence and his hands roamed her back with such skillfulness that she thought she would come from the persistent contact.
She broke the kiss.
"What is it?" he asked with heavy-lidded eyes, adjusting his leg between hers.
"It's too intense," she whispered.
A gleam appeared in his eyes. "Are you telling me that you can't handle it? That it's too hot?"
"Yes," she replied slowly and looked down at their chests.
He felt like a jerk when he saw her reaction. The last thing he wanted was to make her feel uncomfortable, but with his big mouth he succeeded in doing just that.
She lay on her back and ran her hands over her face. Was this really happening to her? She was always the one to take the lead.
"I'm sorry," he reached for her left hand and moved it towards him. "I shouldn't have said that."
She turned her face to him. There were tears gathering in those dark brown eyes, again. "It's okay, Rick."
He kissed her fingers. "You being okay frightens me."
She knew how perceptible he was. She could not lie to him.
"It's just that..." she hesitated for a moment.
He stopped breathing. He feared the worst.
"Go on," he needed her to speak her mind now.
"It's the first time for me to have such strong feelings for someone," her voice sounded unsteady. There wasn't an easy way to say these things.
He stared at her. She wouldn't look at him.
"And you're speechless for maybe the second time in your life," she wanted him to say something.
He shook his head and looked at her. "I thought you were goin' to tell me that this isn't working for you."
"What? No... It's working perfectly for me," she looked at him with rosy cheeks. "I almost came." She whispered the last few words.
His heart stopped this time. "Are you trying to kill me?"
She chuckled and grabbed his right hand. "No!"
"I'm not sure," he said and eyed her.
She smiled at him and intertwined his fingers with hers.
She wondered at their relationship so many times. The way he got to know him, the role he played in finding her mother's killer, his everyday banter she got accustomed to, the wittiness and quirkiness, his kind heart... At the end of the day she would always wonder while her feelings for him grew deeper.
"The wall is crumbling, Rick," sincerity and vulnerability colored her eyes.
He looked gently at her and placed his fingers between her breasts where the scar resided as a reminder of how precious and ephemeral life is. He grazed the sensitive skin and kissed the spot that frightened him more than anything else.
"I thought I was going to lose you," he spoke against her skin.
She ran her fingers over his hair and shoulders.
"I saw something glimmer in the distance. I tried to tackle you but I wasn't fast enough," his voice drifted away.
She caressed his left shoulder tenderly. "I know."
He was silent at first, their breathing the only sound in the room. The fact that she admitted it without his ransacking gave him some consolation. He closed her eyes and looked away from her.
"Talk to me," she pleaded.
He turned back to her, "What do you want me to say?"
"You don't look surprised," she avoided the question.
"Because I heard what you said to that pickpocket boy in the Interrogation room," his voice was tight. He was still fighting the feeling of shock from that day.
Her eyes widened. She didn't expect that. She pressed her lips together in guilt. Looking back at the period when she was shot it seemed to her that the only sane option she had was to deny it. She realized only months later that the wall she built around her heart did not protect her from emotional pain but rather divided her from whom she really wanted to be.
"I thought I was doing the right thing," her voice trembled a little.
He figured that on his own but it still hurt. "I felt foolish when I found out. I thought you kept it to yourself because you didn't feel the same way I did."
But she did feel the same way. And it scared the hell out of her.
"I'm so sorry, Rick. You awakened feelings in me I wasn't prepared to face. It's simple as that," she covered her eyes with her hand. She knew she could trust him, but bearing your soul naked to someone was never easy.
Her lies faded in the light of her love for him. He slowly removed her hand from her face.
"You have every right to be angry," she looked away from him.
But did he? He was keeping important things from her as well and he wasn't sure how she would take it if she discovered it. But he didn't want to think about that at that moment. Besides, he was doing it to protect her.
He placed his hand on her shoulder and squeezed it lightly. She looked at him with timorous eyes.
"When I met you I was so full of myself and all I could think of was how to get you in bed," he spoke calmly but she couldn't hide the tremor that went through her flesh. She remembered well how he acted. It irritated her but it also excited her to no end. The innocence in his eyes was disarming, his boyish nature inflaming.
"But as I followed you I learned of your integrity, courage and compassion. I started to look at things differently … not as lightly as I used to," he inched closer to her and touched her ear with his warm lips.
"They say that if you get to know the people that inspire you, you are bound to be disillusioned sooner or later. And it's true but with you, Kate," he hugged her closely, "with you it couldn't be more wrong. You made the illusion pale to you. And suddenly I didn't care about my books, anymore. All I wanted was to be next to you, protect you... and annoy the hell out of you."
He hugged her tightly at the last few words.
She chuckled against his chest and kissed his heated skin. Tears gathered in her eyes.
"You're a remarkable man, Rick. I have little to do with it."
"I beg to differ," he said under his breath and she chuckled.
"Thank you," she interrupted the silence that lay between them. "I know I can be a handful."
He placed his hand on her hip. "Always."
She smiled against his chest. They've made a private ritual out of a simple word.
"Besides, you've trained me well enough to put up with any pestiferous human being on this planet," he added quickly.
She looked at him open-mouthed. "Are you for real?"
"Do I look like I'm not?" he arched his brows.
She closed her mouth and shook her head. "You're incredible."
"Well, let's see, Detective Beckett. I saved your life numerous times and you barely said 'thank you'. I gave you my support and helped you in your investigations while you just grumbled over my presence at the 12th. You lied about your shooting. You didn't call me for three months after it… shall I go on?"
"Please, do," she said sarcastically.
"I'm not afraid of you, Kate."
That struck her. Her brows furrowed and lips trembled. She stared at him wordlessly.
The maddening clarity of his blue eyes stared back and she had to look away.
"Look at me," he demanded.
She turned back to him. She wanted to say something but words wouldn't form in her throat.
"I do know you, Kate," he placed his right hand above her scar. "Your pain, your fear, your scars… they don't' frighten me. I love them."
She down her lap. It shocked her how she would find a rift in her heart and filled it with a new certainty. She felt like a little girl, vulnerable and small. Stripped naked to raw emotion. She smiled meekly to herself and turned to look back at him. His expression was soft but confident, and his eyes were saying that no matter how long she would fight him or deny the obvious he would only linger even more.
"I don't care how it's gonna work between us. I just know it will."
She leaned her head against the pillow, never breaking eye contact. One could only hope for such companionship.
"The end is always a mystery, right?" she asked softly.
His lips curled, "Yes."
She sighed and brushed his cheek.
"Tell me what you want, Kate," he said tentatively.
She couldn't tell why but she felt shy and giddy all of a sudden. And she was never the bashful one in a relationship.
She looked at him. The wall was falling to pieces.
"Make love to me."
Her breath tightened in her lungs when she said it. It hadn't been the easiest journey so far, and admitting it felt like losing a battle that wasn't really worth fighting for.
He didn't wait for another moment but grasped her hand and pulled her closer to him. She collided with his body, belly to belly, and they both moaned loudly at the sudden contact. Her hands grabbed his jaw. No more games and half-truths. She inched closer to him, feeling his breath mingling with her own. The intensity was overwhelming. He circled his arms around her shoulders and tugged her closer. She closed her eyes and divided in. Their lips locked with urgency. Hands explored and roamed. Nothing was left to chance.
He shifted then and broke the kiss.
"What?" she asked out of breath. Eyes hooded.
He pushed her on her back and found his way between her legs. She gasped. It felt delicious.
He smashed his lips against hers again and thrust his hips against hers. Once, twice.
"Jesus," she hissed.
He thrust again.
"What?" she wasn't following him. Her head was spinning.
"Not Jesus, Rick," he managed to say between kisses and soft morsels.
It took her a moment to realize what he was telling her. Lust could do that to her. She laughed but her laughter died quickly when he took her left breast in his mouth and sucked hard on it.
Her senses went into overdrive. It felt like her own breath was raping her. He was doing things with his tongue she thought not possible. He let go with a loud pop.
She was seriously short-winded. When he inched to the other breast she almost pushed him away.
"Slower?" he asked.
She hated to admit it. "Yes."
He smiled roguishly and softly kissed her nipple. She swallowed. He could make it slower, he thought. The peak glistened in the soft light of his bedroom. He waited a second and blew cold air on it. Her mouth opened and her neck bent. His tongue darted out and licked the offended flesh, making it ridiculously harder. He paid such attention to the aureole that she started to feel something build deep inside her.
He moved down with his mouth and planted long moist kisses right below her breasts, alternating between licks, bites and smooches. Honey, her blood turned to honey. And he just wouldn't stop. He went up to kiss her neck, careful not to crush her hurt rib. His chest pressed against hers. Heated skin on molting flesh.
"Oh, God," she moaned.
"Never fancied you as a believer, Beckett," he spoke into her ear.
Damn this man, she thought. And the way he said her name…
She wanted to reply something but he covered her mouth with his hand. She was about to bit his finger in protest when he squeezed one of her nipples almost to the point of pain. She would have groaned absurdly loudly if he hadn't been pressing his hand against her mouth.
"You don't want to wake my mother, believe me," he said.
She looked at him. Her mental processes were severely compromised. He squeezed the other nipple, mercilessly. Her eyes widened and she whimpered into his fingers helplessly. He removed his wet fingers from her lips and eased them over her right breast. Her insides were melting down.
He adjusted her hips lightly and stretched to kiss her cheeks and mouth.
She thought she was going to disappear in between those hot, moist smacks.
He trailed down her neck and found the little spot that made her squirm. He smiled and pushed his hips into her.
She moaned with abandon and dipped her nails into his shoulders. Her insides were now inflamed to a point she feared.
He squeezed her right breast in response and her hips connected with his groin.
It was then that she felt it. The flames licking her insides and spreading deep into her womb. Her body stiffened. A wave of heat enveloped her brain and convulsed throughout her body.
He brushed her forehead and looked at her in utter amazement. Something deep inside him wept with the innocence of a child.
She tried to recover her senses but felt too overwhelmed.
"It's okay. Take your time," he whispered.
She breathed in and exhaled slowly. He watched her with glossy eyes.
"My Alexander," she whispered then.
"What?" he asked confused.
"Remember Patty?" she asked.
"She told me that I will meet an Alexander and he will be extremely important to me," she gazed at him.
"Now you tell me!" his tone was exaggerated.
"Oh, shut up!" He slapped his back.
"Why, Detective, are you afraid I might say something inappropriate?"
"You got me used to inappropriate," she countered.
"Really?" he asked incredulously.
She bit her lip and nodded.
"I don't know, Kate… I heard you were a scofflaw in your wild days."
He placed a wet kiss between her breasts and slid his tongue down her belly.
"That's untrue," she gasped when he dipped his tongue into her navel.
He nuzzled the skin below her navel and kissed the soft flesh. "You are so soft."
She felt her bones turn into heavy liquid. She wanted to say something back but she was unable to form a coherent thought. Her hand covered half her face in disbelief. The things he could do to her…
He rose up slightly and hooked his thumbs under her panties. He pulled slowly at the thin material.
They both stopped breathing. Seconds expanded into eternity. She sought for something to hold and found the discarded pillow.
He peeled down the fabric and tossed it away. It was only an instant but for the first time in her life she felt insecure being naked in front of a man.
He stared at her bareness and swallowed hard. He looked at her. She stared back at him. Words failed them.
He started to stroke her buttocks with his thumbs. He wanted more of her. His hands slid on the inside of her thighs and pushed her legs apart. Heat radiated from her core. He neared his face to her crotch.
Her eyes widened. "What are you doing?"
His lips curled secretly. She was scared. "Reading a book." He blew hot air at her folds.
At any other moment she would have probably laughed. But she just had a mind blowing orgasm, and this was Castle between her legs. She drew her legs together instinctively.
He stopped her.
"Castle, please, I'm still sensitized," her knees bent slightly but that only exposed her more.
"Nothing that can't be resolved," his eyes sparked at her.
He stroked the inside of her left thigh and planted a soft kiss on the top of her mound. She whimpered under her breath.
"You're not resolving it," her breath got caught in her throat when he found the sweet spot of utter oblivion.
"I could always tell you one of my stories," he said while kissing his way through her folds.
Her eyes rolled back in her head. Nothing could have prepared her for this man.
"But you seem already entertained," he looked up at her while applying soft pressure on her clit.
Her nails dipped into the cotton of his pillow, and her head trashed from side to side. Her chest heaved with the effort to breathe. She'd have hurt him if he hadn't been giving her such pleasure.
He rose up to her face and kissed her hard and deep. He wanted her in a wicked way, he did.
She groaned when she tasted herself on his lips, and he responded in kind. Her hands sneaked around his neck and pressed him tightly to her. She wanted to feel him inside her so badly.
"I need you," she whispered into his ear.
He broke the kiss and looked at her far gone eyes. She rubbed herself into him and cupped his face.
His eyes darkened. The crystal blue she knew disappeared.
"I need to feel you inside me, Rick," she was losing herself in his stare. She ran her thumbs over his eyebrows.
He shifted and tugged at his boxers, his senses strained to the utmost. He cursed.
"Easy, Rick. We have time," she smiled at him, her cheeks making place for her gorgeous lips.
He lowered his face in the crook of her neck and breathed out. His erection connected with her slickened groin. They both gasped.
He adjusted himself at her opening and looked up into her eyes. His fingers interlaced with her hair.
Before she could say anything back he slid inside her.
She moaned loudly.
He was hard, thick, pulsing. He burned inside her, but it was a nice burning, an unending ache getting soothed only to ache again deeper within. He grunted something into her ear but she couldn't tell what. She sought his face to make sure he was real.
"Rick," she panted, but he didn't react. He was kissing her chest, and enjoying his own moment of pure bliss.
"Rick," she repeated in earnest. He stopped moving and looked at her.
"Yes?" he had trouble focusing.
She brushed his shoulders. She wanted to tell him all the things she felt that moment. Her lower lip trembled. A tear slid down.
"What is it, Kate?" his voice was soft and concerned.
She wasn't sure it was the right moment. She wasn't sure any moment would be right, but the feel of him inside her, the blue of his glittering truthful eyes and the unbearable need to tell him the truth she'd been withholding so long made her feel no moment would ever be more right. She looked into those pools of blue and let her heart out.
"I love you."
It took him a few moments to take it in. She loved him. His lips curled into a silly smile and he kissed her lovingly.
She smiled broadly at him and bit his earlobe. "Finish what you started."
"What would that be?" he teased her.
She bit into his neck. "Don't make me beg."
"Don't give me ideas you don't want me to have," he said and moved inside her without warning.
She gasped and put her legs around his back. He slid further inside her and groaned.
"I love you, Kate," he whispered against her slickened lips.
She closed her eyes, and relished the feeling of love deep within her.
Their bodies moved by their own accord, dancing to a song only lovers could hear. His body rubbed against hers. It felt electrifying. Her legs encouraged him to move faster, and he sped up. A fiery sensation started to build deep inside of her, spreading in all directions.
He looked at her in utter abandon. His eyes were partly closed, beads of perspiration forming on his forehead. She thought he was the most beautiful human being.
He was moving leisurely inside of her when he slid out without warning and pushed back in, pressing hard on her pubic bone.
She cried out his name. A hot light blinded her eyes while a warm tide of pleasure squeezed her flesh and bones. Her body spasmed below his, dragging him with her into a powerful whirlwind of heat and bliss.
It was wonderful, absurd, glorious.
He panted heavily, wanted to see her eyes. His hand steadied her face and she clutched at him. Marks would be visible on his skin the next day but that was beyond caring because he was certain the sky had just opened and the earth shattered.
It took them some minutes to come back from the world of blind pulsing unity. Their bodies lay slick, hot and spent atop of each other.
"My, God," she whispered into his ear. "That was …"
"… amazing, breathtaking, absolutely indescribable?" he suggested and bit her shoulder.
She ran her fingers through his hair. "I wanted to say great."
He chuckled and gazed at her. "Cops," he muttered under his breath.
"Writers," she retorted with a broad smile on her face.
"Well, detective Beckett, I don't know about you but I'm pretty tired," he yawned and spooned next to her.
She enjoyed the feel of his body but she was dying for some water, "Just let me go grab a bottle of water in the kitchen, Castle."
She left the bed and wrapped the towel lying on the floor around her.
He groaned in disappointment.
"Be sensible, Rick. I could walk into your mother," she walked out of the bedroom.
She found a bottle of water and on her way back she tripped over something.
"Dammit!" she hissed and grabbed the small remote controller.
She accidentally hit a button. The display of the electric board lit up and she saw her picture in the center of it. She stepped closer and realized what the notes where about.
"What the hell?" she couldn't process the meaning of it. Was he doing research on his own about her mother's murder? Behind her back?
"Rick?" she called out.
After some moments he appeared in the study room to ask what was going on. When he saw her picture on the board he froze. No good deed went unpunished; no sin of silence remained undiscovered.
"I can explain."
A/N: Hope you enjoyed it!