with a bang
Title: with a bang
Characters/Pairings: Castle/Beckett
Summary: Beckett and Castle ring in the New Year.
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: All aired episodes in US.
Note from Logan: Not going to apologize for the shameless double innuendo with that title. Nor will I apologize for New Year's Eve sex. Happy New Year, darlings!
The party has cleared out. It’s been half an hour since the ball dropped, since New Years kisses flavored by the sparkle of champagne were exchanged. The music is still playing from the stereo system, quieter now that it isn’t fighting to be heard over the conversation.
She’s sitting on the couch, her feet stretched out in front of her so that she can see the wink of her gold toenails. A half-empty glass of champagne is loosely held in her right hand as she listens to Castle clean up the dishes from the kitchen counter and dining room table. He’s chattering about the party, about how Lanie and Esposito kept pretending like they weren’t glancing at one another when everyone could see that their looks lingered.
“When’re they going to stop being so thick-headed?” he grumbles.
She can’t hold back the snort of laughter. “I think most people thought the same thing about us,” she admits, taking another sip of the champagne. “They’ll come around.”
He drops the last bowl into the sink before coming over to the living room. The back cushions dip under his forearms as he leans next to her. “Just like we did?”
“Mhm. But 2012 was a good year for us. Maybe 2013 will be theirs.” She sighs, her eyes closing as she drops her head back against the seat. “We alone for the night?”
His palm smoothes over the cap sleeve of her dress, his nose nuzzled behind her ear. “Yeah. Alexis is going to some party with friends from school and Mother is… well, she said not to wait up.” His fingers drift down over the curve of her breast. “Which is good because I have January First plans for you.”
“Yeah?” she asks just a little breathlessly. She wants to hate that he can do that to her after eight months, that he can steal her air with a touch of his hand. Instead, she arches up into his palm, feeling the warmth of his skin through the fabric of her dress. “Want to share?”
“Don’t you like the surprise? The not knowing?” He tugs on her knee, lifting it up so that her foot rests on the edge of the cushion. His fingers trail up, tickling the inside of her thigh. “The antici-” he nips lightly at her jaw as his forefinger dips between her legs. “-pation?”
She draws her other foot up, wiggling forward so that her dress rides up. “I guess it’s nice,” she gasps as his fingers slide over her clit. Her hips push up, looking for more friction than he’s giving. “Castle, please,” she groans.
He removes his fingers, using both of his hands to yank the dress over her head, careful of the glass of champagne still in her hand. Her hair falls in tangled, messy waves, slipping free from her bobby pins. His head rests on her shoulder as his fingers walk down over the top of her breast until he can circle over her nipple. She tips her head against his, her teeth digging into her lower lip to stop the moan from escaping. Just before she can protest, he moves, his forearm snaking down over her torso. The fine hairs of his arm tickle at her breast.
Her breath catches in her throat when he presses two fingers into her. She whimpers as he twists so that the heel of his hand is barely touching her clit, brushing over the sensitive nerves with every quick thrust of his fingers. His name is two broken syllables on her tongue.
“Look,” he says, his lips at her ear.
It takes a few seconds for her to open her eyes, to glance down. His cheek is against hers so when she turns, her lips skitter across his jaw. “God, Castle,” she groans. She tries to put the champagne glass on the coffee table but her fingers are trembling and it tips onto the ground. “Castle, I -”
“Leave it.”
So she braces her right hand on the cushions, her left hand going to cover his, keeping it against her even as her hips move up, forcing him a little deeper. His free hand cups the back of her neck, turning to face her. “Come for me,” he whispers into the corner of her mouth.
His arm keeps her down even as her body tenses while the orgasm rolls through her.
Her fingers are weak and shaky when she reaches back, finds his tie. “Get down here.”
He tumbles over the back of the couch, his legs nearly clipping her head. She’s crawling over him, working at the button and zipper of his pants as he pulls his shirt off. She wiggles them down, taking his boxers and socks at the same time. Her fingers tickle at his navel, circling and dipping into the shallow pool while her other hand lightly gripping his erection.
“Beckett,” he groans as her breath washes over him and his hips unconsciously buck up just as her lips cover the tip of his cock.
The hand wrapped around the base strokes up until it meets her mouth, giving a sharp twist before pulling down some of the wetness to coat the rest of his shaft. His hands thread through her hair and she can feel his deep, vibrating moan along with the sharp pricks of pain on her scalp as she takes him into her mouth. He’s hot, heavy on her tongue as she works him slowly, drawing the ragged groans from his chest.
She keeps him on edge, his hands tightening in her hair as she smiles around him, her left hand still rotating at his base until her fingers dance down over the sensitive skin of his balls, tickling him with teasing touches that never quite become something.
“I need you,” he manages, voice shaking as he yanks on the fistfuls of hair still clenched in his hands. “Beckett, please. Now.”
Instead, she braces on her elbows, right hand tracing patterns over his stomach. His hips are jerking up as her left thumb slides through the sheen of moisture on his cock, circling over his tip. “What do you want?”
“I need to be inside you,” he babbles, the words blending together. “Fuck, Beckett... Please!”
he inches up his body, her lips leaving a trail of wet kisses mixed with little nips along the journey up. Her knees are on either side of his hips, her palms on his shoulders as she dips down to catch his mouth. Still, her fingers guide him so that his tip is just barely inside of her despite his thrusts upward. “Gonna send 2012 off with a bang, Castle?”
His hands abandon her hair, gripping her hips almost hard enough to bruise as he pulls her down onto him. She tries to muffle her moan in the crook of his shoulder but one hand catches her chin, dragging her to his mouth. The other hand presses to the small of her back. She’s rolling her hips down with each longer thrust that he gives. His are uneven and she knows he’s close, especially after she left him just teetering on the razor edge of release.
“Happy New Year,” she murmurs, pressing down so that he’s deep inside of her, rocking forward so that her breasts slide along his chest.
His orgasm pushes her over a few seconds later. She continues to clench her muscles around him, drawing it out as the TV shows the strike of midnight in the Central time zone until she collapses bonelessly atop him. He smoothes a hand down over her back, sticking to the sheen of sweat.
“With a bang indeed.” He turns his head, his lips skating over her jaw until they reach the corner of her mouth. “Happy New Year.”