the gasp and stutter of a heart 4/?
Title: the gasp and stutter of a heart 4/?
Author: dave7
Rating: M
Characters/Pairings: Richard Castle/Kate Beckett
Fandom: Castle
Spoilers: Season Three.
Notes: Sorry this took so long to get up. Work exploded all over my spare time and I’ve been running full pelt all week. I’m on call this weekend, though, so I need to stay home and stay sober and so I should have the next chapter up shortly. I also want to take the chance to thank everyone who left a review for the last chapter, absolutely made my day to hear people are enjoying this. :)
Summary: There’s a weight on his chest, warm, soft curves heavy against his side, and she smells of sleep and sex and midnight and it’s the first thought when he wakes, that he must still be dreaming.
--
the gasp and stutter of a heart 4/?
--
There’s no fog to struggle through, no echoing taste of alcohol in his mouth and it’s a gradual sense of awareness that brings him out of slumber.
There’s a weight on his chest, warm, soft curves heavy against his side, and she smells of sleep and sex and midnight and it’s the first thought when he wakes, that he must still be dreaming.
But no, there’s a throbbing ache in his fist and he can feel the press of her knee against his thigh, the tickle of her hair beneath his chin and his dreams are never so complete in their detail.
He’s awake, then.
And he’s in her bed.
She’s sprawled on top of him, boneless and naked and content, and her fingers are moving in patterns along his shoulder and so she must be awake too -
And she’s still with him.
- And that realisation is enough to jolt him into full consciousness.
His eyes remain closed, but he must still or shift or shiver, he isn’t sure, because she knows he’s awake suddenly and her fingers pause in their dance against his skin.
Kate lifts her head from his chest and he can feel her muscles coil as her body tenses and stretches. She shifts against him, skin on skin, delicious and warm and comfortable. Confident. And it’s so fantastically different than the last time they’d woken together, so much more of what he’d hoped for, that when her palm presses flat against his skin, when her hand slides upwards to the trace the curve of his jaw, he wonders if it isn’t just an incredibly vivid dream after all.
“Morning,” he says and then her nose is pressed beneath his jaw.
Her lips find his neck and her tongue is hot against his skin. “Not time to get up yet,” she says, and sure enough it’s still dark when he finally manages to open his eyes.
“No,” he agrees, “not going anywhere yet.”
Kate slides her knee up to his hip, shifts so she’s pressed closer to him, her body melting into his as their lips meet and he wonders if it’s just the night before bleeding into the morning after. He wonders if, when the sun is fully up, she’ll regret this just as much.
But no, this is different; the feel of it is different. This is them. And it’s not desperate or angry or urgent. Her kiss is slow and hot and a little bit tender and it doesn't feel wrong.
“Sleep,” she tells him, nails scratching lightly through his hair.
Rick slides his hands down her back and his fingers twitch against her skin like a stutter when she moans, breath hot and heavy against his skin on the exhale.
Her hips move against his side in a slow roll, a seductive dance, but she doesn’t need to seduce him, he’s already hers.
He told her as much last night.
“Sleep,” he echoes, but he’s rolling, on top of her and there’s laughter in her eyes. And so he adds, “Later.” Or Never, but he doesn’t say that, he just works at drawing her bottom lip from between her teeth.
“Later,” she agrees, and it feels like a promise, whispered against his lips.
--
“Coffee?”
Rick nods his head. “Thanks.”
He leans against the kitchen counter, half naked because she’s wearing his shirt from the night before, her small frame swamped by fabric that comes down to her thighs.
And it’s awkward, how easy it all seems, watching her move about the kitchen. He’s more confused than not because she isn’t pushing him out the door, because she’s smiling at him, meeting his eyes with a twinkle in her own. There’s no panic or guilt or accusation, it’s just him and her and it’s strange how comfortable it seems.
It feels like a continuation of something that never really had a beginning.
Kate hands him a mug of coffee and when their fingers brush she smiles at him, a small, secret little twist of her lips.
His heart stutters with hope, but it’s not right, is it? Because she’s still taken, still attached to another man, and the beginning of his question is out of his lips before he has a chance to stop it.
“What about-” Josh? Tomorrow? Forever?
But he can’t finish the thought out loud because she smells of him and he smells of her and he doesn’t want to burst this bubble they’ve created, to let the reality of their situations steal in and destroy the peace.
But it must show on his face and so she answers him anyway. “Gone,” she says.
Gone?
“When will he get back?” Rick asks, thinking she just means away, like she has in the past. He wonders if he’s just the substitute, then. If he’s the understudy for her boyfriend’s absence, her second choice, and he hates himself for thinking of it that way - for thinking of it at all.
“He won’t.” There’s an edge to her voice, a defensive note in her tone. Her arms fold across her chest and her eyes grow distant.
She’s nervous, suddenly, he can tell, and she's looking at him as if he’d want to undo the last few hours and -
Oh.
No.
He wants to ask how long the other man has been gone, how long they’ve been over. More than that, he wants to ask why she didn’t tell him, why she kept it a secret. But he doesn’t, because she’s withdrawing, pulling in on herself and he’s not going to make it easy for her, this retreat.
She’s still wearing his shirt, hair still a tangle from his fingers, lips still swollen from his kiss, and no, he’s not going to let her pull away.
Because now she’s his. Could be. Might be. Maybe. If she’ll let him claim her. If she’ll have him back.
The mug finds a place on the counter, forgotten, and then he’s stepping forward to pull her into his arms. She’s stiff against him, but his grip is light and she doesn’t pull away.
He presses a kiss to her temple, has to bend to do it, but he wants her to feel the smile against her skin. “Good,” he says, and then, “Great.”
Kate relaxes against him then, unfolds, and her arms find their way around his waist. She squeezes him once, tight, and then pulls back to look up at him.
He thinks, the way her head is tilted might be an invitation, and so he presses a kiss against her lips, gentle and a little hesitant. When he pulls away she’s smiling and yeah, maybe it’s still a little awkward, but it’s something, this whatever they are.
“Come over tonight,” she tells him, and it’s not a request so much as a demand but he nods his head because yes, he will, of course he will.
- -
TBC…
Author: dave7
Rating: M
Characters/Pairings: Richard Castle/Kate Beckett
Fandom: Castle
Spoilers: Season Three.
Notes: Sorry this took so long to get up. Work exploded all over my spare time and I’ve been running full pelt all week. I’m on call this weekend, though, so I need to stay home and stay sober and so I should have the next chapter up shortly. I also want to take the chance to thank everyone who left a review for the last chapter, absolutely made my day to hear people are enjoying this. :)
Summary: There’s a weight on his chest, warm, soft curves heavy against his side, and she smells of sleep and sex and midnight and it’s the first thought when he wakes, that he must still be dreaming.
--
the gasp and stutter of a heart 4/?
--
There’s no fog to struggle through, no echoing taste of alcohol in his mouth and it’s a gradual sense of awareness that brings him out of slumber.
There’s a weight on his chest, warm, soft curves heavy against his side, and she smells of sleep and sex and midnight and it’s the first thought when he wakes, that he must still be dreaming.
But no, there’s a throbbing ache in his fist and he can feel the press of her knee against his thigh, the tickle of her hair beneath his chin and his dreams are never so complete in their detail.
He’s awake, then.
And he’s in her bed.
She’s sprawled on top of him, boneless and naked and content, and her fingers are moving in patterns along his shoulder and so she must be awake too -
And she’s still with him.
- And that realisation is enough to jolt him into full consciousness.
His eyes remain closed, but he must still or shift or shiver, he isn’t sure, because she knows he’s awake suddenly and her fingers pause in their dance against his skin.
Kate lifts her head from his chest and he can feel her muscles coil as her body tenses and stretches. She shifts against him, skin on skin, delicious and warm and comfortable. Confident. And it’s so fantastically different than the last time they’d woken together, so much more of what he’d hoped for, that when her palm presses flat against his skin, when her hand slides upwards to the trace the curve of his jaw, he wonders if it isn’t just an incredibly vivid dream after all.
“Morning,” he says and then her nose is pressed beneath his jaw.
Her lips find his neck and her tongue is hot against his skin. “Not time to get up yet,” she says, and sure enough it’s still dark when he finally manages to open his eyes.
“No,” he agrees, “not going anywhere yet.”
Kate slides her knee up to his hip, shifts so she’s pressed closer to him, her body melting into his as their lips meet and he wonders if it’s just the night before bleeding into the morning after. He wonders if, when the sun is fully up, she’ll regret this just as much.
But no, this is different; the feel of it is different. This is them. And it’s not desperate or angry or urgent. Her kiss is slow and hot and a little bit tender and it doesn't feel wrong.
“Sleep,” she tells him, nails scratching lightly through his hair.
Rick slides his hands down her back and his fingers twitch against her skin like a stutter when she moans, breath hot and heavy against his skin on the exhale.
Her hips move against his side in a slow roll, a seductive dance, but she doesn’t need to seduce him, he’s already hers.
He told her as much last night.
“Sleep,” he echoes, but he’s rolling, on top of her and there’s laughter in her eyes. And so he adds, “Later.” Or Never, but he doesn’t say that, he just works at drawing her bottom lip from between her teeth.
“Later,” she agrees, and it feels like a promise, whispered against his lips.
--
“Coffee?”
Rick nods his head. “Thanks.”
He leans against the kitchen counter, half naked because she’s wearing his shirt from the night before, her small frame swamped by fabric that comes down to her thighs.
And it’s awkward, how easy it all seems, watching her move about the kitchen. He’s more confused than not because she isn’t pushing him out the door, because she’s smiling at him, meeting his eyes with a twinkle in her own. There’s no panic or guilt or accusation, it’s just him and her and it’s strange how comfortable it seems.
It feels like a continuation of something that never really had a beginning.
Kate hands him a mug of coffee and when their fingers brush she smiles at him, a small, secret little twist of her lips.
His heart stutters with hope, but it’s not right, is it? Because she’s still taken, still attached to another man, and the beginning of his question is out of his lips before he has a chance to stop it.
“What about-” Josh? Tomorrow? Forever?
But he can’t finish the thought out loud because she smells of him and he smells of her and he doesn’t want to burst this bubble they’ve created, to let the reality of their situations steal in and destroy the peace.
But it must show on his face and so she answers him anyway. “Gone,” she says.
Gone?
“When will he get back?” Rick asks, thinking she just means away, like she has in the past. He wonders if he’s just the substitute, then. If he’s the understudy for her boyfriend’s absence, her second choice, and he hates himself for thinking of it that way - for thinking of it at all.
“He won’t.” There’s an edge to her voice, a defensive note in her tone. Her arms fold across her chest and her eyes grow distant.
She’s nervous, suddenly, he can tell, and she's looking at him as if he’d want to undo the last few hours and -
Oh.
No.
He wants to ask how long the other man has been gone, how long they’ve been over. More than that, he wants to ask why she didn’t tell him, why she kept it a secret. But he doesn’t, because she’s withdrawing, pulling in on herself and he’s not going to make it easy for her, this retreat.
She’s still wearing his shirt, hair still a tangle from his fingers, lips still swollen from his kiss, and no, he’s not going to let her pull away.
Because now she’s his. Could be. Might be. Maybe. If she’ll let him claim her. If she’ll have him back.
The mug finds a place on the counter, forgotten, and then he’s stepping forward to pull her into his arms. She’s stiff against him, but his grip is light and she doesn’t pull away.
He presses a kiss to her temple, has to bend to do it, but he wants her to feel the smile against her skin. “Good,” he says, and then, “Great.”
Kate relaxes against him then, unfolds, and her arms find their way around his waist. She squeezes him once, tight, and then pulls back to look up at him.
He thinks, the way her head is tilted might be an invitation, and so he presses a kiss against her lips, gentle and a little hesitant. When he pulls away she’s smiling and yeah, maybe it’s still a little awkward, but it’s something, this whatever they are.
“Come over tonight,” she tells him, and it’s not a request so much as a demand but he nods his head because yes, he will, of course he will.
- -
TBC…