Heather (shimmeryshine) wrote in luckylabels,

There is Only This [Castle/Beckett]

there is only this
Door. Desk. Bookshelf. Bed.
castle/beckett - nc-17
a/n: Spoilers for the Always promo. I'm sure there will be a million of these, but I couldn't not.




It’s inevitable, that sigh she releases, the way she sinks into his body as she steps over the threshold of his loft. They’ve been running a slow and steady jog to this place since the day they met (since the first time she picked up one of his novels? Since the first time he picked up a pen?)

(Since always?)

And the relief pours out of her, pours out and into him, covers his mouth with the hot, slick slide of her tongue, the only warm thing about her rain soaked body. Her clothes are heavy on her skin, heavy with water and heavy with wanting to be gone, off, away. The door slams behind her as he pushes at it, and then pushes her against it, knocking the oxygen from her lungs and into his but she gladly gives it. All she wants right now is to be a part of him, let him be a part of her. They’re doing this now and she wants –

“You came back,” he gasps into her mouth, pulling away with a wet sound that goes straight through her, but she chases him, all teeth and tongue until she can’t even breathe anymore. Her body is frantic against his, all taught arch and she’s completely soaking him but he doesn’t seem to mind at all. She lets him pull away from her mouth finally, but only because his tongue starts pressing itself hotly down the line of her jaw to play at the thump in her pulse, racing for him.

“I…” she starts to say, dissolves into a thick groan of lust as he hits a spot behind her ear, fisting her hand tightly in the side of his shirt. She feels so, so hot all of a sudden, despite her sodden clothes.

“You?” he rumbles there, voice vibrating her to the core. One of his palms is sliding flat against her stomach and into her jacket then, warming the shirt plastered to her skin underneath.

“I almost fell off a roof.”

What?” His eyes jerk to her face and she pushes against him with her hips, needing him to keep touching her. Never stop touching her.

“I’m okay, I’m fine.” She threads her hands into his hair, pulling his face back down to hers, taking a shallow kiss before he pulls back again, making her growl.

“When did you almost fall off a roof?”

She flippantly flicks her fingers against his ears, frustrated at his inability to just let things go. “Just before I came here.”

“Are you – did you get hurt?” his eyes turn from jet blue with lust to concerned all in a second and this is not what she wants right now.

She leans in, stops just a breath away from him, presses her entire soaking wet chest to his dry one. “Why don’t you help me find out?” she ghosts across his lips, all air and innuendo. He groans loudly and she can feel his grip on the cotton under her jacket tightening. That’s better.

He holds eye contact with her as he slides his hand out of under the cover of her clothes, presses them against her shoulders as he pushes her jacket off. It’s leather and stubborn, slow going as he peels it from her skin, leaving her twisting her body against his to get it off.

“Christ,” he swears into her neck as she presses closer to let him pull it down her back, sucking once on the tendons of his neck with a hot, open mouth until she’s free of the constricting leather and pressed tightly back against the door again.

“Tell me where it hurts,” he breathes, dropping his face to the crook of her neck, licking up the droplets of water scattered across her collarbone. Her fingers are tight in the back of his hair, holding him there, pressing him downward to nowhere (everywhere) impatiently.

“Okay,” she croaks, feeling her throat constricting tightly. He slides a solid thigh between her legs as his mouth travels down the bare skin of her chest, quickly losing exposed skin. She insinuates one of her own hands between them, brings it up to play with the top button of her shirt. His mouth stops when he realizes what she’s doing, eyes flicking up to hers and then back down, watches her twist open the top button and pull the fabric to the side. “Try here,” she breathes thickly, and she doesn’t have to ask twice, his mouth lands squarely in the middle of her breasts, voice humming through her sternum.

She gasps sharply at the feel of him so close to where she wants him, presses farther up the door as his thigh forces her higher at the same time, a needy groan finally spilling when his other hand comes up and completely shatters any illusion of restraint when he cups her completely through her shirt.

Yes,” she swears when he starts pulling at the other buttons, gripping her tightly, just enough to be a little bit uncomfortable because he can’t control himself. After an awkward half second of trying to undo her with one hand and without looking, he just yanks, sending tiny little buttons skittering across his hardwood floor, making her grunt.

“Sorry,” he gasps into her skin, mouth opening and closing and opening and closing over newly revealed skin. She’s clammy and wet but his mouth is so warm and present, all she can do is twist under him. “I’ll buy you a new one.”

She doesn’t even acknowledge his offer, instead pressing closer into him as his hand finds its way under her bra, the gasp burning up her throat dying on her lips as she slams them shut to stop from crying out because he just goes for it, and then his other hand is down between her legs and she has never, ever felt so frantic for the feel of someone else’s fingers.

They’re so thick as they slide their way past glued on denim, over her underwear and then under and then he’s hoisting her up and connecting with her mouth again as he takes her with his hand.

“Oh oh oh,” she gasps and freezes mid arch, mouth open wide against his as he grinds his palm against her, so fucking good she almost can’t believe it. Castle’s going to make her come, and the thought alone is enough to completely do it for her. It’s quick and dirty and against his hand and her chest heaves as she tries to get enough air into her lungs to recover but he doesn’t give her a chance, letting her feet drop to the floor as he sinks to his knees, pressing his face into her stomach as he tries to pry the wet denim down her thighs.

Castle,” she gasps, flattening one palm against the door, nails scraping uselessly as she tries to keep herself standing, the other grabbing at his shoulder because his body is the only thing keeping her from toppling over. The hand still slippery with her comes up to steady her hip, touching her naked stomach with a kind of lewdness she appreciates, making her throb.

“Why are you so wet?” he swears, and then she feels him puff a laugh against her skin. “Rain wet, not…”

“Fucking turned on wet?”

He bites the skin under her bellybutton for that, making her pull his hair because yeah his teeth feel kind of amazing nipping at her. She has to shove him off though, he’s completely useless at removing soaking wet skinny jeans, so instead he rocks back on his heels, stands slowly as his hot gaze watches her expertly wiggle out of them. They fall on the floor with a dull plop after she finally gets them off, next to her discarded shoes, next to any and all self-control she used to possess.

“Do you always wear neon purple underwear?” he asks, voice revealing his interest, his fingers trailing interestedly along the elastic at the top.

“Just for you.” He crushes her with his mouth before she can even get the comment all the way out, and then he’s picking her up, carrying her across the living room and toward his office, toward his bed and she still can’t actually believe they’re doing this.









She thinks it’s really kind of fitting that the first time his hands are all over her, they don’t even make it past the front door. She also thinks it’s kind of perfect that the first time she touches him, he’s pressed against his massive desk because that’s where all of this really started and fuck if it doesn’t get her totally going to think about making him completely lose it, to dominate him in this one place where he always has the upper hand.

He almost lets her finish him with her mouth there, against that desk, but then he’s up and pulling at her hair, begging her to stop because he wants her now now now except they kind of get waylaid again at the bookshelves barely five feet away.

(The pull of Nikki and Rook has always been a strong one.)









“Are you going to fuck me against your novels, Castle?” she asks him, shrugging off her bra as the bookshelf behind her digs into her naked back. He gives her a sharp twist for that, making her gasp, reaching up above her head for some kind of purchase against the wobbly books.

“Does that make you hot? Thinking about us doing this with Nikki and Rook at your back?” She bites her lip as that thought actually sinks in, feels a sharp tug of arousal as she realizes it actually does.

He must pick up on it because his hand goes straight for her, sliding between her legs with an embarrassing amount of ease. She soundly kisses the smirk off his face, shoves him backward toward his bed.

“Show me where you get all that inspiration, Mr. Castle.”









“Don’t stop,” she gasps, fingers leaving red marks against his shoulders, hips grinding tightly against his, legs clamped so tight she almost can’t even feel them anymore. He’s perfect there, between her, on her, inside of her. Everywhere, he is everywhere.

It’s so fast, minutes, seconds, blinks of an eye but it’s been four years coming and all she wants is to let go with him and so she does. They do, together, like partners, friends, lovers.

She’s so in love with him she could fly apart.









(And as long as she’s with him, she really doesn’t mind so much.)


Tags: fic: castle, fic: castle/beckett
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