Charlie [Castle/Beckett]
charlie
“Wait,” he says, gathering back his usual level of self possession. “How do you know about that thing with the ice cubes?” He stops, turns to Beckett. “How does she know?”
“Who do you think she learned it from?”
castle/beckett - hard r? (and a little bit of bisexual beckett lol)
a/n: Inspired by this post on tumblr for the guest starring meme that was going around. I loved it so much that this just kind of popped out. Thank you Valerie for letting me play in your sandbox!! Castle and Beckett and a little visit from Beckett's college days.
The sharp click of heels is pronounced against the hard concrete of the Twelfth Precinct homicide floor. It echoes as it travels from the elevator, down the narrow corridors, past desks and murder boards, stacks of unruly papers, half empty coffee cups, ringing telephones, taps a steady staccato beat amongst the hustle and bustle until finally reaching its destination.
“Excuse me,” a voice calls, the tap tap tap of a shoe only slightly impatient until Detective Esposito turns at his desk, regarding the smartly dressed woman clutching a neat notebook and press credentials. “My name is Charlotte Brooks, I’m with the New York Times. I’m looking for - ”
“Richard Castle?” Castle comes swinging out of the break room, all swagger and charm, holding a coffee cup much too small and dainty for his hand. He glances at the woman standing at the edge of Esposito’s desk, back down to his coffee cup, blanches a little bit and then sets it down in the middle of Beckett’s desk as if he had retrieved it for her. “That would be me - ” he starts to say, going for a charming handshake but she cuts him off, eyes giving him an appraising once over but then flicking to something behind his head.
“How nice for you, but I’m actually looking for - ”
“Charlie?” Beckett’s voice calls, surprised from behind him. Surprised but full of…something.
“Hey you!”
“What’re you doing here?” Beckett asks, half on a laugh as she embraces the other woman, sharing a kiss on the cheek that barely misses the corner of her mouth.
Castle just stares, watches as his usually reserved, all business detective shares in a very familiar welcoming. Charlotte, or Charlie as Beckett has revealed, seems none too weary about breaching any personal space boundaries, instead hugging Beckett tightly with her hands full around the other woman’s back, cheeks pressed together snugly. Castle can hardly stand not knowing who she is, so he side steps them, ending up freakishly close as they separate, him lurking awkwardly in the middle of them.
“Castle,” Beckett shoots at him with a quick shake of her head, looking at him like he’s forgotten how to be a human being. He straightens up at her look, sizing up this Charlie. Her New York Times badge is the first thing his eyes land on, and then he can’t help but take in the confident way she carries herself, her stylish clothes, neat hair, radiant skin. She’s gorgeous and obviously knows Beckett, and if he doesn’t find out how, he may just explode from the agony of not knowing. It’s his job to know Kate Beckett, but he doesn’t know this and that just will not do at all.
Beckett steps back out of the other woman’s embrace after their protracted hello, and it’s only then that Castle realizes Charlie’s hand has been lingering on Beckett’s waist, a little lower than is socially acceptable. Interesting.
“I’m here for you actually!” Charlie says, holding up her notebook in between them.
“Is Beckett your muse too?” Castle blurts out before he can censor himself, pressing his lips shut tightly when he realizes what he’s said. He meant it though, the way Charlie’s looking at Beckett is not altogether unlike the way he imagines he looks at her.
Charlie seems to glance between the two of them for the first time then, noticing Castle in that careful way another writer would, tripping over his details. Awareness flickers over her features as her eyes move back and forth and then it’s a smirk settling over her face. “Ohhh, so this is the writer,” she says, moving closer to Beckett again, talking about Castle as if he’s not even present, even though her eyes don’t leave his. Her voice dips to this low, sultry tone that has Castle hanging on her every word.
“Yes,” he half coughs out, the opposite of smooth.
The three of them are huddled together then as Charlie tips forward in Castle’s direction, commanding his ear. “You know,” she starts, licking her lips and pitching forward on her heel. “If you’re going to pretend like you’re not sleeping with Kate over here, you should probably leave out the really specific details in your ‘fictional’ sex scenes.”
Castle chokes out a what at the same time Beckett swears out a Charlie, but the other woman doesn’t flinch, only holds Castle’s wide eyed stare.
“Oh come on, the thing with the ice cubes in Frozen Heat?”
“That - ” Castle stutters, “that book hasn’t even been released yet, how do you - ”
“I know people.”
“Alright, let’s - ” Beckett tries to interrupt, but Castle only has eyes for Charlie. Wide, wide curious eyes.
“Wait,” he says, gathering back his usual level of self possession. “How do you know about that thing with the ice cubes?” He stops, turns to Beckett. “How does she know?”
“Who do you think she learned it from?”
Castle’s fist is in his own mouth before Beckett can even roll her eyes, and then the two woman are walking off together in the direction of Beckett’s desk while Castle almost trips trying to keep up.
Castle leans sullenly on the doorframe of the break room as he tries valiantly to call on the super hearing power he knows he could command if he just tried hard enough. He squints his eyes, trying to activate the muscles on the sides of his head, or maybe by happy accident reveal that he actually has zoom vision and can also read lips from across the room. Sadly, his efforts are only met with the onset of a slight tension headache at the base of his skull from all the concentrating. He sighs, resigning himself to the peeks of Beckett and Charlie at her desk that he can steal through the blinds, having been banished from the bullpen the second he had opened his mouth.
“Hey bro, what’s up with that?” Esposito asks, motioning to the two women, catching up animatedly at Beckett’s desk. Charlie is sitting in his chair.
“She’s doing a series of articles on women in pivotal points in their careers.” Castle speaks without taking his eyes off Beckett, the way Charlie leans into her, puts a hand on her knee, bursts out laughing. He takes a sip of his coffee, staring.
“Yeah I heard, but what is up with that.” Castle knows he’s motioning to the way the two of them are carrying on, but he doesn’t have any answers. Yet.
“Let you know when I find out.”
Castle finally makes his move when Charlie gets up some time later, heading in the direction of the women’s restroom. He’s out of the break room and into the chair next to Beckett’s desk before she can even take a sip of her now-cold coffee.
“Hey Castle,” she says like nothing is out of the ordinary, switching on her computer and scooting herself closer to the keyboard without looking at him.
“Tell me everything,” he blurts, putting his elbows on her desk, chin in hand, waiting for her.
She does look at him then, the roll of her eyes more affectionate than anything else, and so he hooks his foot out, dragging her chair closer to him.
“Who is she?”
“Charlotte Brooks.”
“Yes I know that, thank you. Who is she to you.” He watches her debate for half a second, weighing her words, but they have had a strict no secrets policy since that night with Maddox, since their summer together, since they came back to the precinct, so she divulges.
Finally.
“We were suitemates in college, Castle.”
He chews on that for a second, asks the question he really wants to ask. “Suitemates or suitemates?”
“What does that even mean?” The look he shoots her from under his lashes must convey that he knows she’s aware of exactly what he means because then she’s fishing for just the right words. “We were…really good friends.”
“Yes, but how good?”
“The best,” Charlie whispers into his ear from behind him, making him almost jump out of his skin. Beckett’s cackling out a laugh before he can even rearrange himself on the cushion, trying to look like he hadn’t just completely let her sneak up on him. Charlie trails the fingers of her left hand along his shoulder as she walks around the back of the desk, perching on the arm of Beckett’s chair. “Amazing friends even, I would say. Wouldn’t you, Kate?”
“I was always really satisfied,” Beckett nods innocently, but he can see the mischief creeping into the corners of her eyes.
Charlie turns to her then, giving what Castle can only describe as a salacious once over. It has his heart pounding and he’s not even the one she’s looking at.
“I’m ready for you in the conference room whenever you’re good,” Charlie says, switching back to her easy professional tone, and then the two women are standing, heading away from him yet again.
“Castle, you wanna go grab us some coffee while I do this?”
He nods resignedly, lists into her just for a second, hoping she’ll have pity on him, but her strict no mouths on mouths in the precinct rule still stands, and so he settles for a brush of her hand with his, and a nice, solid gaze as he watches her saunter through the maze of desks and into the conference room.
He’ll go get her coffee, but he’s not about to be slow about it. He wants in that room.
His thirst for knowledge about her is insatiable.
Castle’s never retrieved coffee so quickly in his life, strolling back into the precinct in less than twenty minutes with three to-go cups in hand. Beckett’s still away from her desk, in the middle of her interview, he hopes, so he strides across the bullpen to the conference room door. He stops just before going in, grinning to himself about what he might find. Are Beckett and Charlie sitting too closely again? Are they talking about their days as “suitemates”? Is Beckett talking about him? About them? He switches the coffee holder into one hand, raising the other to cover his eyes as he breezes into the room, stopping three steps inside the doorway.
“Are you guys making out or can I open my eyes?”
He yelps as he feels a pen hit him in the stomach, dropping his hand to find Beckett and Charlie at the end of the conference room table, looking disappointingly professional. Beckett’s even glaring, so business as usual basically.
“Wait, is making out still on the table here? I thought you guys were screwing.”
“Charlie.”
“Are you not screwing? Because he definitely looks at you like he’s seen you naked.”
“Know from personal experience?” Castle chimes in, sliding his way nonchalantly into a seat two down from Beckett, trying not to look eager.
“Okay!” Beckett interrupts loudly, standing and reaching for her coffee, all but snatching it out of his hand. “I think we’re done here, so.”
Charlie stands too, gathering up her notebook, a digital recorder and her purse. “It’s been a pleasure, as always.” She kisses Beckett on the cheek again, and then levels Castle with a smirky grin. “I’m sure you know that, though,” she winks.
“Yes, but what I want to know is how you know that.”
She laughs at him as she passes by, stopping in the doorway. “Dinner before I leave the city?”
“Absolutely.”
“Promise no making out unless she says it’s okay,” Charlie mock whispers to Castle with a wink.
“I mean - if you guys want to - I wouldn’t - I mean, right now you could - ”
Beckett socks him in the shoulder and he shuts up, pressing his lips together tightly.
“Men,” she says, shaking her head, curls bouncing enticingly around her cheeks.
Charlie breezes out of the precinct with one last wave in Beckett’s direction, leaving she and Castle alone in the conference room.
“I hope you know that you’re going to be telling me everything, later,” he whispers directly into her ear, watching as a shiver runs through her.
She doesn’t acknowledge him though, just takes a long pull of her coffee and starts making her way back to her desk, writer in tow.
The second they’re out of the precinct, he can’t keep his hands off of her. All the way back to her apartment he’s vibrating with it, question upon question clogged in his throat, burning in his guts because he has to know, wants to know everything about her, this maddening, frustrating, interesting woman he is so lucky to call his own.
“Castle, will you - ” she huffs, trying to swallow down a moan, he can tell, as she attempts to unlock her front door with him pressed completely against her back, mouth sucking at her neck.
“Hurry up,” he groans against the soft skin there, sweeping her hair all the way over her left shoulder.
She finally gets the key in the right way, pushing her heavy door until it swings inside, and then they’re both stumbling into her entryway as he refuses to disengage.
“At least let me take my shoes off,” she gasps as his hands start sliding their way under her jacket already from behind, reaching up to cup her through her shirt. “Jesus, Castle.”
“Did you take your shoes off with her?” he husks into her ear, rolling his hips into her ass.
“What?” She reaches up behind her to cup his head, pulling his mouth back down to her neck.
“With Charlie, or did she like it when you kept them on?”
Beckett bites her lip hard at the question, and Castle can tell her mind is flooding with memories, he can feel her body thrumming with them, with arousal from him or her past, he’s not quite sure. Either way, he’s totally into it.
“Sometimes I kept them on,” she finally whispers, and Castle bites down on her neck in response, the white hot heat of want threading through him because she’s playing along.
“When? When did you keep them on, tell me.” He pushes the question into her ear as he pushes her body into the wall, pressing her cheek first against the cool brick as one of his hands slides its way down her stomach. She pushes backward against him, making him groan, but she’s making room for his hand because she wants to be touched.
“When - ” she starts, then stops abruptly as his full hand cups her through her pants. Her fingers rise up against the wall, the tips of them digging into the brick uselessly as she grinds herself against his palm. “When we would come back late from parties, dressed up, drunk. I wouldn’t even get undressed.”
He rewards her answer with a fierce press of his hips, knocking her tighter onto the hand between her legs.
“Was it always like that, always when you were drunk?”
“No.”
This sets him off even more, and he knew it too, knew she wasn’t the type to use intoxication as an excuse to do something she wanted to do, try something she wanted to try. She and Charlie are much too close to have had anything less than some kind of comfortable relationship, whether it be friendship or otherwise.
“Did you like it?”
Beckett’s keening now, digging her forehead into the raised bits of the wall as she tries to get the friction she needs from him, and he can tell she’s already close, that talking about this is making her crazy.
“Yes, yes I liked it,” she moans, gasping tightly when Castle viciously rubs three of his fingers against her zipper and then turns her around, pressing her back against the wall so he can get at her mouth. He captures a kiss from her, hot and sloppy, open mouths and tongues sliding wetly until she starts trying to climb him, one leg draping up and over his hip. He grabs the back of her thigh, helping her tuck him between her legs again, and then she starts moving, grinding again because she can’t stop.
“That ice cube thing, did she tell you or show you?” he asks into her mouth, popping the button on her pants and dropping her leg so she can get them off.
She stumbles trying to rid herself of them, finally toeing off her shoes, losing precious inches as her pants finally pool on the ground at her feet. “She showed me,” she gasps as Castle grabs her under both thighs this time, lifting her up and against the wall. Her hands drop to the front of his pants, unzipping and rubbing and pulling until he’s free of the barrier, hot and hard in her hand. “With her mouth,” she finishes, sliding her tongue into his mouth to demonstrate or torture him, he can’t tell which, as he presses forward and into her, and then it’s so hot and fast that neither of them can speak until she grunts out his name and arcs against him, squeezing the back of his neck as her legs close like a vice around his middle and then he’s gone too, face pressed into her hair as he pants hotly into her ear.
“God, I love you,” he breathes into her skin, making her laugh.
“Me or my sordid sexual history?” She says the word sordid with a lift of her eyebrow, slowly sliding down his body until her feet are on the floor again.
“Everything,” he presses a kiss to her throat and then steps back, pulling her with him by the hand. “But please continue on with your sordid tales, Detective. I think I need a bedtime story.”
She smiles and knocks into him with her shoulder, letting her fingers lace through his as he leads her back toward her bedroom, the both of them half undressed.
“Good because I have this great one about the night Charlie and I got navel rings…”
“Wait,” he says, gathering back his usual level of self possession. “How do you know about that thing with the ice cubes?” He stops, turns to Beckett. “How does she know?”
“Who do you think she learned it from?”
castle/beckett - hard r? (and a little bit of bisexual beckett lol)
a/n: Inspired by this post on tumblr for the guest starring meme that was going around. I loved it so much that this just kind of popped out. Thank you Valerie for letting me play in your sandbox!! Castle and Beckett and a little visit from Beckett's college days.
The sharp click of heels is pronounced against the hard concrete of the Twelfth Precinct homicide floor. It echoes as it travels from the elevator, down the narrow corridors, past desks and murder boards, stacks of unruly papers, half empty coffee cups, ringing telephones, taps a steady staccato beat amongst the hustle and bustle until finally reaching its destination.
“Excuse me,” a voice calls, the tap tap tap of a shoe only slightly impatient until Detective Esposito turns at his desk, regarding the smartly dressed woman clutching a neat notebook and press credentials. “My name is Charlotte Brooks, I’m with the New York Times. I’m looking for - ”
“Richard Castle?” Castle comes swinging out of the break room, all swagger and charm, holding a coffee cup much too small and dainty for his hand. He glances at the woman standing at the edge of Esposito’s desk, back down to his coffee cup, blanches a little bit and then sets it down in the middle of Beckett’s desk as if he had retrieved it for her. “That would be me - ” he starts to say, going for a charming handshake but she cuts him off, eyes giving him an appraising once over but then flicking to something behind his head.
“How nice for you, but I’m actually looking for - ”
“Charlie?” Beckett’s voice calls, surprised from behind him. Surprised but full of…something.
“Hey you!”
“What’re you doing here?” Beckett asks, half on a laugh as she embraces the other woman, sharing a kiss on the cheek that barely misses the corner of her mouth.
Castle just stares, watches as his usually reserved, all business detective shares in a very familiar welcoming. Charlotte, or Charlie as Beckett has revealed, seems none too weary about breaching any personal space boundaries, instead hugging Beckett tightly with her hands full around the other woman’s back, cheeks pressed together snugly. Castle can hardly stand not knowing who she is, so he side steps them, ending up freakishly close as they separate, him lurking awkwardly in the middle of them.
“Castle,” Beckett shoots at him with a quick shake of her head, looking at him like he’s forgotten how to be a human being. He straightens up at her look, sizing up this Charlie. Her New York Times badge is the first thing his eyes land on, and then he can’t help but take in the confident way she carries herself, her stylish clothes, neat hair, radiant skin. She’s gorgeous and obviously knows Beckett, and if he doesn’t find out how, he may just explode from the agony of not knowing. It’s his job to know Kate Beckett, but he doesn’t know this and that just will not do at all.
Beckett steps back out of the other woman’s embrace after their protracted hello, and it’s only then that Castle realizes Charlie’s hand has been lingering on Beckett’s waist, a little lower than is socially acceptable. Interesting.
“I’m here for you actually!” Charlie says, holding up her notebook in between them.
“Is Beckett your muse too?” Castle blurts out before he can censor himself, pressing his lips shut tightly when he realizes what he’s said. He meant it though, the way Charlie’s looking at Beckett is not altogether unlike the way he imagines he looks at her.
Charlie seems to glance between the two of them for the first time then, noticing Castle in that careful way another writer would, tripping over his details. Awareness flickers over her features as her eyes move back and forth and then it’s a smirk settling over her face. “Ohhh, so this is the writer,” she says, moving closer to Beckett again, talking about Castle as if he’s not even present, even though her eyes don’t leave his. Her voice dips to this low, sultry tone that has Castle hanging on her every word.
“Yes,” he half coughs out, the opposite of smooth.
The three of them are huddled together then as Charlie tips forward in Castle’s direction, commanding his ear. “You know,” she starts, licking her lips and pitching forward on her heel. “If you’re going to pretend like you’re not sleeping with Kate over here, you should probably leave out the really specific details in your ‘fictional’ sex scenes.”
Castle chokes out a what at the same time Beckett swears out a Charlie, but the other woman doesn’t flinch, only holds Castle’s wide eyed stare.
“Oh come on, the thing with the ice cubes in Frozen Heat?”
“That - ” Castle stutters, “that book hasn’t even been released yet, how do you - ”
“I know people.”
“Alright, let’s - ” Beckett tries to interrupt, but Castle only has eyes for Charlie. Wide, wide curious eyes.
“Wait,” he says, gathering back his usual level of self possession. “How do you know about that thing with the ice cubes?” He stops, turns to Beckett. “How does she know?”
“Who do you think she learned it from?”
Castle’s fist is in his own mouth before Beckett can even roll her eyes, and then the two woman are walking off together in the direction of Beckett’s desk while Castle almost trips trying to keep up.
Castle leans sullenly on the doorframe of the break room as he tries valiantly to call on the super hearing power he knows he could command if he just tried hard enough. He squints his eyes, trying to activate the muscles on the sides of his head, or maybe by happy accident reveal that he actually has zoom vision and can also read lips from across the room. Sadly, his efforts are only met with the onset of a slight tension headache at the base of his skull from all the concentrating. He sighs, resigning himself to the peeks of Beckett and Charlie at her desk that he can steal through the blinds, having been banished from the bullpen the second he had opened his mouth.
“Hey bro, what’s up with that?” Esposito asks, motioning to the two women, catching up animatedly at Beckett’s desk. Charlie is sitting in his chair.
“She’s doing a series of articles on women in pivotal points in their careers.” Castle speaks without taking his eyes off Beckett, the way Charlie leans into her, puts a hand on her knee, bursts out laughing. He takes a sip of his coffee, staring.
“Yeah I heard, but what is up with that.” Castle knows he’s motioning to the way the two of them are carrying on, but he doesn’t have any answers. Yet.
“Let you know when I find out.”
Castle finally makes his move when Charlie gets up some time later, heading in the direction of the women’s restroom. He’s out of the break room and into the chair next to Beckett’s desk before she can even take a sip of her now-cold coffee.
“Hey Castle,” she says like nothing is out of the ordinary, switching on her computer and scooting herself closer to the keyboard without looking at him.
“Tell me everything,” he blurts, putting his elbows on her desk, chin in hand, waiting for her.
She does look at him then, the roll of her eyes more affectionate than anything else, and so he hooks his foot out, dragging her chair closer to him.
“Who is she?”
“Charlotte Brooks.”
“Yes I know that, thank you. Who is she to you.” He watches her debate for half a second, weighing her words, but they have had a strict no secrets policy since that night with Maddox, since their summer together, since they came back to the precinct, so she divulges.
Finally.
“We were suitemates in college, Castle.”
He chews on that for a second, asks the question he really wants to ask. “Suitemates or suitemates?”
“What does that even mean?” The look he shoots her from under his lashes must convey that he knows she’s aware of exactly what he means because then she’s fishing for just the right words. “We were…really good friends.”
“Yes, but how good?”
“The best,” Charlie whispers into his ear from behind him, making him almost jump out of his skin. Beckett’s cackling out a laugh before he can even rearrange himself on the cushion, trying to look like he hadn’t just completely let her sneak up on him. Charlie trails the fingers of her left hand along his shoulder as she walks around the back of the desk, perching on the arm of Beckett’s chair. “Amazing friends even, I would say. Wouldn’t you, Kate?”
“I was always really satisfied,” Beckett nods innocently, but he can see the mischief creeping into the corners of her eyes.
Charlie turns to her then, giving what Castle can only describe as a salacious once over. It has his heart pounding and he’s not even the one she’s looking at.
“I’m ready for you in the conference room whenever you’re good,” Charlie says, switching back to her easy professional tone, and then the two women are standing, heading away from him yet again.
“Castle, you wanna go grab us some coffee while I do this?”
He nods resignedly, lists into her just for a second, hoping she’ll have pity on him, but her strict no mouths on mouths in the precinct rule still stands, and so he settles for a brush of her hand with his, and a nice, solid gaze as he watches her saunter through the maze of desks and into the conference room.
He’ll go get her coffee, but he’s not about to be slow about it. He wants in that room.
His thirst for knowledge about her is insatiable.
Castle’s never retrieved coffee so quickly in his life, strolling back into the precinct in less than twenty minutes with three to-go cups in hand. Beckett’s still away from her desk, in the middle of her interview, he hopes, so he strides across the bullpen to the conference room door. He stops just before going in, grinning to himself about what he might find. Are Beckett and Charlie sitting too closely again? Are they talking about their days as “suitemates”? Is Beckett talking about him? About them? He switches the coffee holder into one hand, raising the other to cover his eyes as he breezes into the room, stopping three steps inside the doorway.
“Are you guys making out or can I open my eyes?”
He yelps as he feels a pen hit him in the stomach, dropping his hand to find Beckett and Charlie at the end of the conference room table, looking disappointingly professional. Beckett’s even glaring, so business as usual basically.
“Wait, is making out still on the table here? I thought you guys were screwing.”
“Charlie.”
“Are you not screwing? Because he definitely looks at you like he’s seen you naked.”
“Know from personal experience?” Castle chimes in, sliding his way nonchalantly into a seat two down from Beckett, trying not to look eager.
“Okay!” Beckett interrupts loudly, standing and reaching for her coffee, all but snatching it out of his hand. “I think we’re done here, so.”
Charlie stands too, gathering up her notebook, a digital recorder and her purse. “It’s been a pleasure, as always.” She kisses Beckett on the cheek again, and then levels Castle with a smirky grin. “I’m sure you know that, though,” she winks.
“Yes, but what I want to know is how you know that.”
She laughs at him as she passes by, stopping in the doorway. “Dinner before I leave the city?”
“Absolutely.”
“Promise no making out unless she says it’s okay,” Charlie mock whispers to Castle with a wink.
“I mean - if you guys want to - I wouldn’t - I mean, right now you could - ”
Beckett socks him in the shoulder and he shuts up, pressing his lips together tightly.
“Men,” she says, shaking her head, curls bouncing enticingly around her cheeks.
Charlie breezes out of the precinct with one last wave in Beckett’s direction, leaving she and Castle alone in the conference room.
“I hope you know that you’re going to be telling me everything, later,” he whispers directly into her ear, watching as a shiver runs through her.
She doesn’t acknowledge him though, just takes a long pull of her coffee and starts making her way back to her desk, writer in tow.
The second they’re out of the precinct, he can’t keep his hands off of her. All the way back to her apartment he’s vibrating with it, question upon question clogged in his throat, burning in his guts because he has to know, wants to know everything about her, this maddening, frustrating, interesting woman he is so lucky to call his own.
“Castle, will you - ” she huffs, trying to swallow down a moan, he can tell, as she attempts to unlock her front door with him pressed completely against her back, mouth sucking at her neck.
“Hurry up,” he groans against the soft skin there, sweeping her hair all the way over her left shoulder.
She finally gets the key in the right way, pushing her heavy door until it swings inside, and then they’re both stumbling into her entryway as he refuses to disengage.
“At least let me take my shoes off,” she gasps as his hands start sliding their way under her jacket already from behind, reaching up to cup her through her shirt. “Jesus, Castle.”
“Did you take your shoes off with her?” he husks into her ear, rolling his hips into her ass.
“What?” She reaches up behind her to cup his head, pulling his mouth back down to her neck.
“With Charlie, or did she like it when you kept them on?”
Beckett bites her lip hard at the question, and Castle can tell her mind is flooding with memories, he can feel her body thrumming with them, with arousal from him or her past, he’s not quite sure. Either way, he’s totally into it.
“Sometimes I kept them on,” she finally whispers, and Castle bites down on her neck in response, the white hot heat of want threading through him because she’s playing along.
“When? When did you keep them on, tell me.” He pushes the question into her ear as he pushes her body into the wall, pressing her cheek first against the cool brick as one of his hands slides its way down her stomach. She pushes backward against him, making him groan, but she’s making room for his hand because she wants to be touched.
“When - ” she starts, then stops abruptly as his full hand cups her through her pants. Her fingers rise up against the wall, the tips of them digging into the brick uselessly as she grinds herself against his palm. “When we would come back late from parties, dressed up, drunk. I wouldn’t even get undressed.”
He rewards her answer with a fierce press of his hips, knocking her tighter onto the hand between her legs.
“Was it always like that, always when you were drunk?”
“No.”
This sets him off even more, and he knew it too, knew she wasn’t the type to use intoxication as an excuse to do something she wanted to do, try something she wanted to try. She and Charlie are much too close to have had anything less than some kind of comfortable relationship, whether it be friendship or otherwise.
“Did you like it?”
Beckett’s keening now, digging her forehead into the raised bits of the wall as she tries to get the friction she needs from him, and he can tell she’s already close, that talking about this is making her crazy.
“Yes, yes I liked it,” she moans, gasping tightly when Castle viciously rubs three of his fingers against her zipper and then turns her around, pressing her back against the wall so he can get at her mouth. He captures a kiss from her, hot and sloppy, open mouths and tongues sliding wetly until she starts trying to climb him, one leg draping up and over his hip. He grabs the back of her thigh, helping her tuck him between her legs again, and then she starts moving, grinding again because she can’t stop.
“That ice cube thing, did she tell you or show you?” he asks into her mouth, popping the button on her pants and dropping her leg so she can get them off.
She stumbles trying to rid herself of them, finally toeing off her shoes, losing precious inches as her pants finally pool on the ground at her feet. “She showed me,” she gasps as Castle grabs her under both thighs this time, lifting her up and against the wall. Her hands drop to the front of his pants, unzipping and rubbing and pulling until he’s free of the barrier, hot and hard in her hand. “With her mouth,” she finishes, sliding her tongue into his mouth to demonstrate or torture him, he can’t tell which, as he presses forward and into her, and then it’s so hot and fast that neither of them can speak until she grunts out his name and arcs against him, squeezing the back of his neck as her legs close like a vice around his middle and then he’s gone too, face pressed into her hair as he pants hotly into her ear.
“God, I love you,” he breathes into her skin, making her laugh.
“Me or my sordid sexual history?” She says the word sordid with a lift of her eyebrow, slowly sliding down his body until her feet are on the floor again.
“Everything,” he presses a kiss to her throat and then steps back, pulling her with him by the hand. “But please continue on with your sordid tales, Detective. I think I need a bedtime story.”
She smiles and knocks into him with her shoulder, letting her fingers lace through his as he leads her back toward her bedroom, the both of them half undressed.
“Good because I have this great one about the night Charlie and I got navel rings…”