Title: Dive In
Rating: E
Fandom: Castle
Pairing: Castle/Beckett
Summary: They take their first nap in the Hamptons.
Notes: 1840 words.
They take their first nap in the Hamptons.
They’d gone for a week this time, not in the summer, but in the New Year, to try and beat the January blues and so Castle could make some headway on his next novel. Except, so far, all they had really accomplished was getting dressed and leaving the house to have dinner. So, when randomly at 3 in the afternoon, Beckett tells him she’s going to take a nap, Castle really doesn’t think much of it. He’s making headway on his chapter and she’s finished reading one of the books she packed. But then ten minutes after she’s gone, he realises she’s taken his drink into the kitchen.
He triple saves his work – autosave be damned – and stands, stretching out his muscles and then he spots it.
His blue t-shirt.
It’s on the floor now, in a little puddle of material but a few minutes ago, it had been on Becket. She’d grabbed it that morning, instead of one of her own because she knows how much he loves it when he wears his clothes. The way they hang off her, reveal little bits of her, make it look like she’s his.
Which, he knows, is probably really problematic, but she is his and he loves it.
As he bends to grab the t-shirt from the floor, he spots her sweatpants at the bottom of the stairs. He’s ashamed to admit, still in the fog of his writing, that it takes him a minute to understand the trail she’s left him. It’s really not until he spots her bra on the top step that it really dawns on him.
She doesn’t need to know how long that took him.
Her underwear is in the doorway of the bedroom.
He doesn’t bother to pick them up, simply looks into the room to see Beckett lying on the bed, one hand between her legs and the other cupping a breast.
Definitely not napping.
He wants to make a dirty remark but he’s kinda hung up on the fact that she’s masturbating in front of him, for him, and enjoying it.
On display for him, it takes a lot to hold himself back. He really wants to dive in between her legs, taste her, feel her so badly it’s like he didn’t do those things already this morning. But he also really wants to watch.
She moans as she presses her fingers harder against her clit and oh god, he loves that sound.
“Rick,” she breathes and he moans, because he loves that sound even more.
Her eyes open and she stills, slightly embarrassed even though this was a display for him. It’s still a display, him viewing something private, and he understand it’s still hard to bear herself to him both physically and emotionally.
He comes closer, he can see how wet she is, and he sits in the chair near the door and angles it so he has a better view.
“Don’t stop,” he tells her. “Please.”
Beckett nods and starts to move her hands again, just slowly at first, sliding her fingers through her wet centre, down, then back up to her clit. He watches, enraptured, as she circles her clit gently with her middle finger. She bites her bottom lip as she does so, hips stuttering up. She uses such a light touch, Castle wonders if this is what Beckett really likes or if she’s still shy.
Her other hand drops to her side as she uses more pressure, then lets her finger slide down to her entrance. She teases herself, he realises, as she dips just inside her body, then out and back to her clit. She’s teasing and building the pleasure. She plants her feet flat on the bed and opens her legs a little wider and he feels that urge to dive in again but he’s determined to watch her come on her own fingers.
Beckett, stills for a second and he wonders if she’s changed her mind, but then she opens her eyes and locks them with his for a moment.
“S’good,” she says, almost slurring the words as she runs her fingers back through her slick centre. She presses two inside her, arching her hips up to meet them. “To have you watch,” she adds, pulling out and pushing in.
She starts a slow rhythm with her hand, roughly catching her clit with her thumb whenever she can reach. She makes a little uh noise every time she does, that goes straight down to his cock. He readjusts himself, wanting to concentrate completely on Beckett and her fingers and her face and the sounds.
“Tell me,” he whispers, not entirely sure what he’s asking for, probably just more of Beckett talking.
“Oh god,” she moans and she manages to let go of the sheet to cup a breast again and she pinches her nipple.
“You’re always watching me,” she says, the words ending on a gasp and she gives up on thrusting her fingers to concentrate on her clit, fingers circling, pressing, pushing, sliding. Her hips move more erratically, trying to follow the sensations of her own hand and soon it’s all she can concentrate on, she simply cups her breast and watches him back.
He can’t help but slip his hand into his shorts. He’s only human.
“It’s like an exten-sion of that,” she moans. “Didn’t realise how much I love it.”
He loves it too, loves watching her. Watching her sleep, interrogate, come. He loves it.
She’s close. She can barely keep her eyes open, the strain of it is etched into her. Every exhale is a moan.
“Talk to me,” she whines, eyes finally slipping closed.
“You’re beautiful,” he says, standing to really take her in, letting his eyes rake over her body. “All spread out like this for me, open for me.”
He perches on the edge of the bed, reaches out to curl his hand around her leg, fingers brushing the inside of her thigh but not stroking, just resting while he watches.
“I love watching you,” he tells her. “Could watch you for the rest of our lives,” he says it quietly but her eyes open at the words, the implication behind them. He brushes by it and keeps talking because her fingers are still working her clit. He watches as she slides her fingers down again, pressing inside her. She shifts around a little, suddenly crying out when she hits the right spot.
“Love the sounds you make,” he says, voice lower, bending down to whisper. “Love it when you’re moaning my name, gasping it, screaming it.”
“Rick,” Beckett groans.
“Yeah, just like that,” he smiles. “You close?”
She whimpers in reply.
“Little more, yeah?” he asks. “Need a hand?”
She nods with another whimper and he slides his hand up her thigh, pulls her own hand away and presses his fingers through the searing heat and in. She presses her fingers back onto her clit, circling roughly. She cries out then and he crooks his fingers to hit the same spot she had and then she’s flying, screaming, and he can feel her body ripple from the inside out. Her entire body tightens and she scrabbles on the bed for his hand and he stills his fingers, waiting out the aftershocks, as she shakes and gasps.
She sinks back onto the bed, eyes still closed. She squeezes his hand with a whimper as he pulls his fingers free, and he lets her breathing slow for a moment or too.
“Castle,” she says finally, looking at him. He smiles and leans down to kiss her briefly.
“That was fucking amazing,” he tells her, and despite being fully dressed he stretches his body out over hers. She bites her bottom lip, rearranging her lax limbs to accommodate him between his legs. He presses his hips into her, groaning. He knows it won’t take much; he’d probably come in his shorts with a little friction.
“Really?” she asks.
“Yeah,” he says with another thrust to emphasise his point.
“Never let anyone watch before,” she says.
“Really?”
It surprises him, in a way, because he knows Kate is even more adventurous than he is. But then, it also doesn’t surprise him, because it’s a part of herself, the way she makes herself come that he knows she considers private.
She’s a contradiction.
But she’s his contradiction.
“Never,” she confirms.
He kisses her hard, and scrabbles to get his shorts down and off. She helps, kissing back and sliding her tongue along his. He lifts his hips to get the material out of the way enough to slide his cock against her soaking centre.
“Oh God,” he groans when he reaches down and angles himself just right to slide home. “Kate,” he gasps.
He loves this, the feel of her pulsing around him, hot and wet and perfect.
“Think you can come again?” he asks, pulling out slowly and thrusting back in harder than he intended. The way she arches up to meet him with a cry of pleasure answers the question for him. He’s pretty sure he can hold out long enough, but not totally sure.
He starts with some long slow thrusts that have her keening, wrapping her legs around his hips. He rests his hands flat on the bed and gives into the sensation of Kate Beckett. Watching her pleasure herself has him wound way too tight, way too close and he gives into his need and starts moving hard and fast. He feels Beckett snake a hand down between them, feels it when she plays with her clit, the way her body tightens around his and her pulse speeds up. He doesn’t stop but he does stutter slightly, kissing her as he does before, fucking her harder.
“More,” Beckett’s voice is barely more than a whimper but he hears it, feels it and it doesn’t know if he has more because his brain is all but done and his body is in control now.
Castle wants more too, needs it, needs her.
He keeps moving, without thought, thrusting in as hard as he can and he can feel she’s close, close again and he can’t hold on for it, he realises a moment too late.
“Kate,” he breathes and then he’s pulled apart, coming hard inside her, hips jerking against her. Her fingers keep moving on her clit, and he has enough sense left to kiss her and help her through her second orgasm. She cries out, shaking beneath him as she comes.
After a moment, he rolls off her and gathers her close and the last thing he remembers before he falls to sleep is just how lucky he is to have her in his life.
When he wakes the covers have been pulled up over them and Beckett is sitting up in bed reading a book. He turns to look at her, settling on his side and she smiles at him.
“Good nap?” she asks.
“The best.”