Alone and Together With You [Castle/Beckett]
alone and together with you
"Did you ever think about us here?"
castle/beckett - nc-17
a/n: special thanks to Carrie for knocking this out with me one night on ichat, I think I stole some dialogue but it's okay, I know you don't mind as long as I put porn around it for you xoxo. Post finale secksing. HAPPY MEMORIAL DAY WEEKEND DOODS.
It’s been…days since she’s set foot inside her own apartment. A week? More than a week? It’s easy to lose track of time when days and nights stop being marked by dead bodies and calls from the medical examiner and you don’t get out of bed for more than minutes at a time.
Castle’s palm is light against her back as her door creaks open, and she’s not sure if the sound is foreign because it’s been unopened for so long or because she’s used to the soundless swish of his front door now.
He makes a little hum noise in the back of his throat behind her, and she turns to look at him as she lets the door press shut.
“What?”
He shrugs, walking into her kitchen like he owns the place. He’s not actually been here since they -
“I thought there would be more, cobwebs and things.”
She shoots him a look, rolls her eyes exaggeratedly. Feels good, normal. “Castle it’s been like a week.”
The black cotton of his tshirt stretches across his chest distractingly as he shrugs. “Seems like longer.” His eyes are sparkling despite the glib tone in his voice, he’s playing with her.
“Tired of me already?”
Before she can brush past him and head toward her bedroom for more clothes, he stops her with the width of his body, fingers wrapping lightly around one of her biceps. He leans in then, slowly, watches her stare at his mouth, lets her heart start to stutter a little bit before he speaks. Damn him.
“Never,” he breathes, ghosting his mouth across hers before releasing her completely and backing his way down her hallway like he didn’t just promise her forever. Her eyes watch him go as he rounds the corner into her bedroom, stepping inside like he’s been there a thousand times when in reality he never has.
It’s only been a week but she can’t wrap her head around how much it feels like they’ve always been doing this. She shakes her head and makes her feet move, heart still pounding a little bit arrhythmically, lips tingling with the taste of him. She really, really needs to get herself together.
When she crosses the threshold to her room, he’s there, in her space, rooting around in her underwear drawer. How did he even find that?
“Castle,” she snaps, and instead of flinching away well and truly busted, he just holds up one hand, flicking around the lacy pair of black underwear dangling from the end of his pointer finger.
“Let’s bring these,” he grins. He starts to shove them into his pocket but she grabs them before he has the chance. “You wanna put them on now?” he husks, abandoning her drawer and rounding on her and when did he become the one with the upper hand?
She stutters out his name as the backs of her knees hit her mattress, and then she’s shooting a hand out behind her to steady herself so she doesn’t flop down right on the bed, his for the taking. Her chest rises and falls for a moment, recollecting herself as she watches him watch her, finally letting the lingerie in her hand come up between them to press against her own fist and his chest.
“Do you want to help me?” she whispers, watches as his throat bobs thickly, feels heat pool in her belly as she feels the control here shift back into her favor. That’s better. She expects him to make some kind of innuendo filled comment, face splitting into that leery grin and then back off, falling right into their old dynamic, but he surprises her, doing exactly the opposite.
He gets aggressive.
“Take off your pants,” he orders, letting his chest brush lightly up against hers, the fingers of his right hand coming between them to play at the button of her jeans, dipping under the waistband just a fingertip’s worth. She swallows thickly as the heady command he’s just given her settles around her head, her pulse steady thumping in her neck. He’s never been this forward with her and she kind of never wants him to stop.
She brings one hand to the waistband of her jeans then, letting her fingers brush along his as she expertly pops the button without breaking eye contact with him. The endless blue of his eyes are quickly becoming overrun with black as she gives into him, and she watches them darken as she slowly lowers the zipper tooth by tooth. He tugs them down for her finally, one sharp yank until she’s got dark blue pooled around her feet. Her shoes come off easily and then she’s left in just her regular underwear and button down shirt, cuffed at the elbows.
“What now?” she breathes against his mouth, not kissing him, just watching as the tremor of her voice cuts through him. She can see him soaking it in, see what it’s doing to him that she’s letting him take the lead here. They’ve been dancing around each other for years and she suddenly needs to know about every single time he’s imagined this scenario, her undressing at his command.
His hips crowd into hers, bumping her back against the edge of the bed again, hands coming to slide up her arms until they reach her shoulders. He gives them a nudge as he says “lay down.”
She obeys, sliding her way down and then back, staring at her ceiling and biting her lip as she feels him drag his fingertips up her naked thighs, crawling up over her until all she can see is him. It’s different here, in her bedroom, him in her space instead of she in his. This feels more real, letting him do this to her here, this place that’s been just hers. As if he can read her thoughts on her body, Castle nudges his way across her cheek with his nose, dropping words into her ear as his fingers start to play with the waistband of her underwear again.
“Did you ever think about us here?” he asks, voice smooth, in control. She can’t help the way her hips tilt up at his question, seeking friction because yes of course she has.
“Castle,” she moans softly, threading her hand through his hair, trying to keep her body still as he touches her but doesn’t touch her, not anywhere she needs him to.
“Tell me.” His palm spreads flat against the taut skin of her stomach, making her muscles jump underneath.
“I thought you were helping me with these.” She presses the black lace hard into his chest, stops breathing as his hand comes up to wrap around hers, pull it into his own fist.
“Changed my mind.”
One of his knees presses into her thigh, holding her open but not touching her. God she wants him to touch her.
“Tell me, Kate,” he asks again, this time humming against that spot behind her ear that makes her tongue go thick and heavy in her mouth. She wants to wait, make him work for it a little bit more, she’s not used to spilling her guts like this, but she’s burning for him and the answer is right on the tip of her tongue -
“Yes,” she finally confesses, and he rewards her with a quick squeeze over her bra, making her gasp until he slides his hand away, working at the buttons running down her middle. He’s groaning against her skin and it’s making her crazy that one little word is getting him just as worked up as she is and she’s not even touching him.
Fire erupts across her throat as he opens his mouth against her, tongue stroking out against the sensitive skin along her jugular, tasting her reaction to him, the thick, hot pulse of her blood only making him unbutton her faster.
“How?” he asks into her skin, kissing her over and over again, down down her chest until he’s shoving her shirt over and off of her shoulders. She sits up a little bit to help him, cradling his head as she shakes each arm loose.
“How did I think about us?” She’s panting, dazed, eyes glazed as he finally flings her shirt across the room, face still pressed to her chest.
“How, when, tell me everything.”
She takes in a shuddery breath, feeling him rise and fall with the rhythm of her lungs. She doesn’t know if she can do this.
“Castle I - ”
He slides a palm up her neck and into her hair, pulling her mouth to his for one singular bruising kiss before pressing his forehead to hers.
“Did you ever - ” he starts, voice dangerously low, lips so screamingly close to hers, “think about us - ”
She groans before he even finishes, his lips dropping against her chin once, kissing it like he kisses her mouth, hot and open, tongue pressing.
“ - when reading one of the Nikki Heat books?”
She swears against his cheek, hips trying to move but he’s still got her pinned down and she can’t reach anywhere and oh god she’ll tell him anything if he’ll just touch her. She starts nodding against him, knows he can feel it when his fingers in her hair twist tightly, making her back arch, her naked stomach dragging across the warm cotton shirt he’s still wearing.
For her admission, he lets his knee release some of the pressure on her thigh, and she immediately brings it up and over his hip, pressing her pelvis into his with an obscenely satisfying groan. He lets her roll her hips against him once, twice, three times, and then his hand, huge against her, is pressing her back down into the mattress. She grunts in frustration, not done, and then his mouth is right back at her ear.
“Did you ever touch yourself in here while reading one of our books?”
And oh there it is, what he really wants to know. Her eyes slam closed at the question, at our books, he’s too heavy, too close to her, she’s too on edge, this is too much, he’s going to know how long she’s wanted him if she confesses and yet she can’t seem to make herself stop. She wants to give him this, wants to give him everything she never has.
She cants her head down to his ear this time, wanting him to feel her admission as well as hear it, wants to feel the shudder that rocks him as he thinks about her doing what she’s about to admit to doing. “More than once,” she breathes, giving him more than he’s asked for, feels him roll his hips into her this time, making her bite her lip. His jeans are stiff but she can still feel him between her legs, hard and heavy and it’s because of her.
“How?” he asks urgently, lifting up on an elbow to trail fingers down her stomach. She’s breathing hard, watching her own abdomen rise and fall as he trips his way down, stopping at the edge of her skin. “With your fingers?”
“Yes.”
He nods as if imagining it, lets his entire hand trace down around the front of her underwear, making her strain against him. He’s being too soft though, teasing, not what she wants at all and then -
“Did you do it like this?” he’s staring at his own fingers, two of them lightly circling right over that tight little bundle of nerves. The sound of his voice asking her that is making her crazy, she can’t answer him, can only whimper pathetically and shake her head no. “How?” He stops touching her until she answers him.
“Please, Castle.” She swallows thickly, presses the back of her hand to her forehead, trying to keep it together. She’s so hot for him.
“Tell me how.”
“Harder,” she finally huffs out. “Harder.”
The second the words are out of her mouth his fingers are sliding down hard circling perfectly and fuck she knows she’s being loud, saying god knows what but it’s so good, exactly what she wants and she lets her hips move against him, lets herself breath in that this is Castle touching her, Castle’s fingers, Castle’s mouth at her ear, his voice, oh god his voice again there. She grips at the back of his neck to try to keep her hold on reality as his fingers shove aside the scrap of fabric between them, touching her for real.
“So like that, huh?” he asks, pressing into her now and she’s whimpering again, she can hear the smirk on his face without even looking at him and it makes her even hotter, even wetter as he takes her with his fingers, hard just like she likes it. “Inside?” he double checks with her, curling his fingers, catching her moan with his tongue.
“Yes, oh god yes, Castle.”
Her hips are rolling, jerky and uncoordinated as she grinds against him, clutching the back of his neck with one hand and a fist full of blanket in the other. She’s so, so close and then -
“Did you ever think you’d let me do this to you?” She lets out a silent gasp, head arching back, body bowing as his question goes right through her like wildfire. “Did you, Beckett?”
His use of her last name like this reminds her of where they’ve come from, everything they used to be and everything they are and everything that’s coming and then fuck he stops, he drags his slippery fingers over her and stops.
She knows what he wants, an answer to his question, but she can’t make her tongue work, not when she’s this close and he’s still draped all over her. She sucks in a harsh breath through her nose, tries not to press her legs together (she can’t anyway, he’s still firmly between them), runs a hand through her sweaty hair.
“Yes,” she finally chokes out. “It’s all - ” she swallows, pants, “all I could think about.”
It must be the right answer, what he wants to hear, because then his mouth is covering hers completely, taking her tongue into his mouth and sucking. She keens loudly, her body completely and totally overwhelmed, and then his hand is wrapping around hers, the one still sticky with her, dragging it down her own stomach.
“Finish,” he breathes against her mouth. “I want to watch you.”
She holds tenuous eye contact as she lets her own hand slide inside of the underwear she’s still wearing, bites her own lip and sighs as her fingers easily replace his. They’re thinner than his are, different, but she knows her body, knows how to get exactly what she wants. He lasts for about two seconds staring at her face once she starts touching herself, finally looks downward when she whispers watch me. His fingers skitter over hers, feeling her move, brushing her knuckles gently as a deep groan rumbles out of his chest and into hers. Her lips connect with his forehead as she twists her wrist, moving fast, hard, the way she used to when she got desperate enough to fall into thinking about him doing this to her.
He shifts then, as she gets closer, sloppier, she feels him rise up a little bit, watches as he unzips his own jeans, shoves his hand inside. The blue of his eyes is almost completely black now, swamped with lust, probably a mirror image of hers. She doesn’t even know how she’s physically lasted this long. He’s asking her a question with his gaze that he really doesn’t need to ask, but she nods anyway, watching as he fists himself between her legs and then they’re both watching each other, the reality of what they’re doing washing over them in white hot waves, of what they used to do, doing this together the way they used to do it alone and fuck that’s about all she needs before she’s tensing around her own hand, muscles going rigid as she lets out a half contained ahhh Castle.
As she collapses down on her bed, she hears Castle’s breathing hitch, feels his hand going between her legs, reaches down blindly to help him, and then he’s whispering her name in an open mouthed prayer against her collarbone as she feels the sticky hot evidence of how much he wants her spill across her stomach.
He collapses onto her then, the both of them breathing like they’ve just run down a hundred suspects, hands roaming everywhere. Hers are in his hair, on his shoulders, his sides, his ears as his trip around every piece of bare skin he can find.
“Did that just happen?” he croaks, voice tight with spent arousal.
She laughs, letting her toe trail up and down his calf. “Going to help me into those lacy underwear now, Castle?” she asks, feeling along the bed for them.
He groans into her neck, half laugh half wanting. Neither of them can seem to turn it off.
“I think you need a shower first,” he mumbles, licking at the sweat on her skin, making her shiver.
She waits a beat, and then:
“Castle?”
“Hmm?”
“Have you ever thought of us in there?”
She can feel his smirk lighting her skin.
(yes)
"Did you ever think about us here?"
castle/beckett - nc-17
a/n: special thanks to Carrie for knocking this out with me one night on ichat, I think I stole some dialogue but it's okay, I know you don't mind as long as I put porn around it for you xoxo. Post finale secksing. HAPPY MEMORIAL DAY WEEKEND DOODS.
It’s been…days since she’s set foot inside her own apartment. A week? More than a week? It’s easy to lose track of time when days and nights stop being marked by dead bodies and calls from the medical examiner and you don’t get out of bed for more than minutes at a time.
Castle’s palm is light against her back as her door creaks open, and she’s not sure if the sound is foreign because it’s been unopened for so long or because she’s used to the soundless swish of his front door now.
He makes a little hum noise in the back of his throat behind her, and she turns to look at him as she lets the door press shut.
“What?”
He shrugs, walking into her kitchen like he owns the place. He’s not actually been here since they -
“I thought there would be more, cobwebs and things.”
She shoots him a look, rolls her eyes exaggeratedly. Feels good, normal. “Castle it’s been like a week.”
The black cotton of his tshirt stretches across his chest distractingly as he shrugs. “Seems like longer.” His eyes are sparkling despite the glib tone in his voice, he’s playing with her.
“Tired of me already?”
Before she can brush past him and head toward her bedroom for more clothes, he stops her with the width of his body, fingers wrapping lightly around one of her biceps. He leans in then, slowly, watches her stare at his mouth, lets her heart start to stutter a little bit before he speaks. Damn him.
“Never,” he breathes, ghosting his mouth across hers before releasing her completely and backing his way down her hallway like he didn’t just promise her forever. Her eyes watch him go as he rounds the corner into her bedroom, stepping inside like he’s been there a thousand times when in reality he never has.
It’s only been a week but she can’t wrap her head around how much it feels like they’ve always been doing this. She shakes her head and makes her feet move, heart still pounding a little bit arrhythmically, lips tingling with the taste of him. She really, really needs to get herself together.
When she crosses the threshold to her room, he’s there, in her space, rooting around in her underwear drawer. How did he even find that?
“Castle,” she snaps, and instead of flinching away well and truly busted, he just holds up one hand, flicking around the lacy pair of black underwear dangling from the end of his pointer finger.
“Let’s bring these,” he grins. He starts to shove them into his pocket but she grabs them before he has the chance. “You wanna put them on now?” he husks, abandoning her drawer and rounding on her and when did he become the one with the upper hand?
She stutters out his name as the backs of her knees hit her mattress, and then she’s shooting a hand out behind her to steady herself so she doesn’t flop down right on the bed, his for the taking. Her chest rises and falls for a moment, recollecting herself as she watches him watch her, finally letting the lingerie in her hand come up between them to press against her own fist and his chest.
“Do you want to help me?” she whispers, watches as his throat bobs thickly, feels heat pool in her belly as she feels the control here shift back into her favor. That’s better. She expects him to make some kind of innuendo filled comment, face splitting into that leery grin and then back off, falling right into their old dynamic, but he surprises her, doing exactly the opposite.
He gets aggressive.
“Take off your pants,” he orders, letting his chest brush lightly up against hers, the fingers of his right hand coming between them to play at the button of her jeans, dipping under the waistband just a fingertip’s worth. She swallows thickly as the heady command he’s just given her settles around her head, her pulse steady thumping in her neck. He’s never been this forward with her and she kind of never wants him to stop.
She brings one hand to the waistband of her jeans then, letting her fingers brush along his as she expertly pops the button without breaking eye contact with him. The endless blue of his eyes are quickly becoming overrun with black as she gives into him, and she watches them darken as she slowly lowers the zipper tooth by tooth. He tugs them down for her finally, one sharp yank until she’s got dark blue pooled around her feet. Her shoes come off easily and then she’s left in just her regular underwear and button down shirt, cuffed at the elbows.
“What now?” she breathes against his mouth, not kissing him, just watching as the tremor of her voice cuts through him. She can see him soaking it in, see what it’s doing to him that she’s letting him take the lead here. They’ve been dancing around each other for years and she suddenly needs to know about every single time he’s imagined this scenario, her undressing at his command.
His hips crowd into hers, bumping her back against the edge of the bed again, hands coming to slide up her arms until they reach her shoulders. He gives them a nudge as he says “lay down.”
She obeys, sliding her way down and then back, staring at her ceiling and biting her lip as she feels him drag his fingertips up her naked thighs, crawling up over her until all she can see is him. It’s different here, in her bedroom, him in her space instead of she in his. This feels more real, letting him do this to her here, this place that’s been just hers. As if he can read her thoughts on her body, Castle nudges his way across her cheek with his nose, dropping words into her ear as his fingers start to play with the waistband of her underwear again.
“Did you ever think about us here?” he asks, voice smooth, in control. She can’t help the way her hips tilt up at his question, seeking friction because yes of course she has.
“Castle,” she moans softly, threading her hand through his hair, trying to keep her body still as he touches her but doesn’t touch her, not anywhere she needs him to.
“Tell me.” His palm spreads flat against the taut skin of her stomach, making her muscles jump underneath.
“I thought you were helping me with these.” She presses the black lace hard into his chest, stops breathing as his hand comes up to wrap around hers, pull it into his own fist.
“Changed my mind.”
One of his knees presses into her thigh, holding her open but not touching her. God she wants him to touch her.
“Tell me, Kate,” he asks again, this time humming against that spot behind her ear that makes her tongue go thick and heavy in her mouth. She wants to wait, make him work for it a little bit more, she’s not used to spilling her guts like this, but she’s burning for him and the answer is right on the tip of her tongue -
“Yes,” she finally confesses, and he rewards her with a quick squeeze over her bra, making her gasp until he slides his hand away, working at the buttons running down her middle. He’s groaning against her skin and it’s making her crazy that one little word is getting him just as worked up as she is and she’s not even touching him.
Fire erupts across her throat as he opens his mouth against her, tongue stroking out against the sensitive skin along her jugular, tasting her reaction to him, the thick, hot pulse of her blood only making him unbutton her faster.
“How?” he asks into her skin, kissing her over and over again, down down her chest until he’s shoving her shirt over and off of her shoulders. She sits up a little bit to help him, cradling his head as she shakes each arm loose.
“How did I think about us?” She’s panting, dazed, eyes glazed as he finally flings her shirt across the room, face still pressed to her chest.
“How, when, tell me everything.”
She takes in a shuddery breath, feeling him rise and fall with the rhythm of her lungs. She doesn’t know if she can do this.
“Castle I - ”
He slides a palm up her neck and into her hair, pulling her mouth to his for one singular bruising kiss before pressing his forehead to hers.
“Did you ever - ” he starts, voice dangerously low, lips so screamingly close to hers, “think about us - ”
She groans before he even finishes, his lips dropping against her chin once, kissing it like he kisses her mouth, hot and open, tongue pressing.
“ - when reading one of the Nikki Heat books?”
She swears against his cheek, hips trying to move but he’s still got her pinned down and she can’t reach anywhere and oh god she’ll tell him anything if he’ll just touch her. She starts nodding against him, knows he can feel it when his fingers in her hair twist tightly, making her back arch, her naked stomach dragging across the warm cotton shirt he’s still wearing.
For her admission, he lets his knee release some of the pressure on her thigh, and she immediately brings it up and over his hip, pressing her pelvis into his with an obscenely satisfying groan. He lets her roll her hips against him once, twice, three times, and then his hand, huge against her, is pressing her back down into the mattress. She grunts in frustration, not done, and then his mouth is right back at her ear.
“Did you ever touch yourself in here while reading one of our books?”
And oh there it is, what he really wants to know. Her eyes slam closed at the question, at our books, he’s too heavy, too close to her, she’s too on edge, this is too much, he’s going to know how long she’s wanted him if she confesses and yet she can’t seem to make herself stop. She wants to give him this, wants to give him everything she never has.
She cants her head down to his ear this time, wanting him to feel her admission as well as hear it, wants to feel the shudder that rocks him as he thinks about her doing what she’s about to admit to doing. “More than once,” she breathes, giving him more than he’s asked for, feels him roll his hips into her this time, making her bite her lip. His jeans are stiff but she can still feel him between her legs, hard and heavy and it’s because of her.
“How?” he asks urgently, lifting up on an elbow to trail fingers down her stomach. She’s breathing hard, watching her own abdomen rise and fall as he trips his way down, stopping at the edge of her skin. “With your fingers?”
“Yes.”
He nods as if imagining it, lets his entire hand trace down around the front of her underwear, making her strain against him. He’s being too soft though, teasing, not what she wants at all and then -
“Did you do it like this?” he’s staring at his own fingers, two of them lightly circling right over that tight little bundle of nerves. The sound of his voice asking her that is making her crazy, she can’t answer him, can only whimper pathetically and shake her head no. “How?” He stops touching her until she answers him.
“Please, Castle.” She swallows thickly, presses the back of her hand to her forehead, trying to keep it together. She’s so hot for him.
“Tell me how.”
“Harder,” she finally huffs out. “Harder.”
The second the words are out of her mouth his fingers are sliding down hard circling perfectly and fuck she knows she’s being loud, saying god knows what but it’s so good, exactly what she wants and she lets her hips move against him, lets herself breath in that this is Castle touching her, Castle’s fingers, Castle’s mouth at her ear, his voice, oh god his voice again there. She grips at the back of his neck to try to keep her hold on reality as his fingers shove aside the scrap of fabric between them, touching her for real.
“So like that, huh?” he asks, pressing into her now and she’s whimpering again, she can hear the smirk on his face without even looking at him and it makes her even hotter, even wetter as he takes her with his fingers, hard just like she likes it. “Inside?” he double checks with her, curling his fingers, catching her moan with his tongue.
“Yes, oh god yes, Castle.”
Her hips are rolling, jerky and uncoordinated as she grinds against him, clutching the back of his neck with one hand and a fist full of blanket in the other. She’s so, so close and then -
“Did you ever think you’d let me do this to you?” She lets out a silent gasp, head arching back, body bowing as his question goes right through her like wildfire. “Did you, Beckett?”
His use of her last name like this reminds her of where they’ve come from, everything they used to be and everything they are and everything that’s coming and then fuck he stops, he drags his slippery fingers over her and stops.
She knows what he wants, an answer to his question, but she can’t make her tongue work, not when she’s this close and he’s still draped all over her. She sucks in a harsh breath through her nose, tries not to press her legs together (she can’t anyway, he’s still firmly between them), runs a hand through her sweaty hair.
“Yes,” she finally chokes out. “It’s all - ” she swallows, pants, “all I could think about.”
It must be the right answer, what he wants to hear, because then his mouth is covering hers completely, taking her tongue into his mouth and sucking. She keens loudly, her body completely and totally overwhelmed, and then his hand is wrapping around hers, the one still sticky with her, dragging it down her own stomach.
“Finish,” he breathes against her mouth. “I want to watch you.”
She holds tenuous eye contact as she lets her own hand slide inside of the underwear she’s still wearing, bites her own lip and sighs as her fingers easily replace his. They’re thinner than his are, different, but she knows her body, knows how to get exactly what she wants. He lasts for about two seconds staring at her face once she starts touching herself, finally looks downward when she whispers watch me. His fingers skitter over hers, feeling her move, brushing her knuckles gently as a deep groan rumbles out of his chest and into hers. Her lips connect with his forehead as she twists her wrist, moving fast, hard, the way she used to when she got desperate enough to fall into thinking about him doing this to her.
He shifts then, as she gets closer, sloppier, she feels him rise up a little bit, watches as he unzips his own jeans, shoves his hand inside. The blue of his eyes is almost completely black now, swamped with lust, probably a mirror image of hers. She doesn’t even know how she’s physically lasted this long. He’s asking her a question with his gaze that he really doesn’t need to ask, but she nods anyway, watching as he fists himself between her legs and then they’re both watching each other, the reality of what they’re doing washing over them in white hot waves, of what they used to do, doing this together the way they used to do it alone and fuck that’s about all she needs before she’s tensing around her own hand, muscles going rigid as she lets out a half contained ahhh Castle.
As she collapses down on her bed, she hears Castle’s breathing hitch, feels his hand going between her legs, reaches down blindly to help him, and then he’s whispering her name in an open mouthed prayer against her collarbone as she feels the sticky hot evidence of how much he wants her spill across her stomach.
He collapses onto her then, the both of them breathing like they’ve just run down a hundred suspects, hands roaming everywhere. Hers are in his hair, on his shoulders, his sides, his ears as his trip around every piece of bare skin he can find.
“Did that just happen?” he croaks, voice tight with spent arousal.
She laughs, letting her toe trail up and down his calf. “Going to help me into those lacy underwear now, Castle?” she asks, feeling along the bed for them.
He groans into her neck, half laugh half wanting. Neither of them can seem to turn it off.
“I think you need a shower first,” he mumbles, licking at the sweat on her skin, making her shiver.
She waits a beat, and then:
“Castle?”
“Hmm?”
“Have you ever thought of us in there?”
She can feel his smirk lighting her skin.
(yes)