Based on a prompt from Mobazan27.

Their first night together is enlightening.

Amidst rounds, with his guard down and nothing but the darkness between then, she waits for words and commentary. For wit and witticism.

None comes.

He's quiet.

Once awe has left them, when it's silence over surprise, he's quiet.

She'd been right about so many things. The width of his chest, the strength of his arms, the thickness of his thighs pressed between her legs. Yet, almost from the moment she led him into his bedroom, he'd abstained from speech. Now they're somewhere bordering on round three and he's distanced himself from communication of any kind beyond the meeting of their lips, the touch of skin on skin, and the unspoken vows that surge between their ever locking pupils.

He's quiet. Methodical. Tender and slow.

They've worked themselves up to quite a frenzy through the night, but this - her back to his sheets and his entire form dwarfing her own - feels like so much more.

His fingers run hotly the length of her thigh, coil between them briefly, curve around the bend of her knee and lift. He sweeps her foot to his shoulder, slides deeper and sighs as though he's found heaven. Nirvana. Some holy place he cannot speak of. Yet, bound by reverence, his breathy silence conveys that which he cannot.

Her eyes roll and his name spills from her in stolen whispers that echo, again and again, when her mouth opens and her head falls back onto his pillow. Where his silence ends her quiet chants begin.

He kisses her neck and chases her down, going slowly and watching every flutter of heated reaction, feeling every inch of skin that slides with his own.

He doesn't speak, doesn't make a sound beyond the hot panting of his breath in her ear. Breath that somehow scalds and sets her on fire, oxygen to the embers within, igniting when he seals their hips together and Kate has no choice but to wrap her other leg tightly around his waist. Her knee to her chest and her heel holding him to her, she's so thoroughly wrapped up with him - around him - that his next breath becomes her own.

Their eyes lock and the weight of him inside is buried deep and hard, making her ache in a thousand unknown ways, and still he doesn't say a word.

His breath is fast, hot against her lips, painting her in unsaid proof of his enjoyment and somehow his silence, his awe, his inability to escape this momentous moment they're sharing makes her want him all the more.

The loud Castle, the jovial, silly man who makes her laugh is the one the she knows. The funniest kid, the one who pulls pigtails and plays pranks, the one who nudges her elbow when he's annoying her is the one she's well acquainted with.

The man buried between her thighs is none of these things.

In his silence, with his lips tracing her own, Castle grants her glimpses of the man who cried when she was shot. His eyes roam her face, darker than the night tearing itself apart beyond his window. He smooths the hair from her forehead, traces a strand behind her ear with the devotion of the man who soothed her grief when her friend and mentor lay dead.

He's the man who brings her coffee for no reason other than to see her smile, holds her hands at the worst of times and offers reassurance when she has nothing but doubts. Kate revels in every second of his silence, every small glimpse into the man she's known to exist but has never been this close to, this intimate with.

It's a gift, much like his love, and one she treasures as he slowly pulls back from her, reluctance a palpable thing, only to push back in, slow and sure, pressing a soft kiss to her still open lips.

Her hands come up and spread through his hair, thumbs either side of his jaw as she gasps his name, shock, amazement and absolute delight spearing through her, striking at her heart with the knowledge she gets to share this with her best friend. He trades the distance between them for another kiss, another breathy groan painting her tongue when she arches up to meet him and he glides deeper still.

Where words remain absent they share touch and sight, His fingers feather flame across her cheek, down her collarbone, sending spirals of heat to swirl around her heart with each stroke to her breast. He thumbs her nipple, watches as the flames flare raggedly over the scar at her side, not hiding from it nor ignoring it, merely acknowledging it's existence in passing before he slides over her ribs.

Their foreheads touch and his palm envelops her hip, a soft groan and a deeper, harsher moan tumbling free when he slides lower and finds more evidence of her arousal. His eyes close, his breath hitches and Kate strokes a finger the length of his face attempting to soothe him, unprepared for his sudden and frantic thrust.

She shakes, shouts, "Oh, god, Castle, yes."

His eyes flutter open and disbelief at the feel of her enjoyment is replaced by something she could never name, so tangled up in every emotion they share she's not sure she could ever do it justice.

He captures her wrist, drags her fingers between them and snaps his hips hard enough to have the bed thumping against the wall.

Her fingers, coated now, sweet and sticky.

Castle pulls her hand up and out of the way, locking their palms together, sliding back in until they're nose to nose, far more intimate, more profound, than any kiss they have ever shared.

Their joined hands land up above her head and he rocks into her slowly, eyes fluttering up. No need for words, his gaze alone tells her he's pictured having her tied to this bed more than once.

"I trust you," she gasps as the weight of him pressed so tight and deep and everywhere, sparks nerve endings and brings her closer, has her shuddering without ever falling over the edge. He holds her there for the longest second, until she's shaky and bordering on madness.

His eyes fall back to her own, mouth opening, lips parting, her confession granting permission for things he's yet to ask for. His smile comes slow and builds, surges with the sensation mounting inside her. His happiness pushing her closer.

A darkness lingers in his pupils and he drives into her this time with determination, that unspoken thing written once more in the lines of need and concentration that ripple over his face.

He reaches for her other hand, locks their palms together and brings it up with the other above her head. With nothing to bear the weight of him from her his body sinks with hers deeper into the mattress, skin on skin, bound up, hot and tight. The only leverage from his knees at her backside, allowing his hips to flex and snap and drive her wild.

He finds a rhythm, unfurling his fingers in time to the slow and steady in and out that has her breath racing free of her lungs, her chest heaving within in seconds.

He's seen her fall apart twice already tonight, coming hard and loud, laughing and awed, but this will be so much more.

His nose skates the edge of her own, he arches up, foreheads pressed together a split second before he kisses her. Their mouths fuse and her fingers bite into his needing something to hold onto. Her grip tightens, leg a vice around his hips as the other protests too quietly for her to hear above the roar of her own heartbeat, her own primal and animalistic desire. Her love for him, above all else, drowning it out.

She wants him. All of him, but more than anything she wants this, this revelation, this man stoking fire inside and out.

His hips snap and piston and drive her into the mattress. Each loud thump thump thump of the bed against the wall swallows up the thump thump thump of her heart in her chest. He pushes her higher, changes angle, and her already swollen, frazzled nerve endings scream for release.

She opens her eyes and he's right there with her, staring down, lips breaking apart for desperate air. A dichotomy of yes and no, of wanting this to last forever and aching for completion.

Past and present and oh, yes, now, their future, all coming together in this molten ball of energy that swells up, and up, and up, only to break and crash over them with enough force that Castle collapses onto her, into, his hips still flexing short sharp little thrusts as she cries out her release, head thrown back and entire body aflame.

They come back to each other slowly, quaking and shivery now the heat has left them. He touches her face and stares into her eyes the way no one else ever has.

She whispers, "Thank you," doesn't need to elaborate beyond those two words because he already knows. For waiting, for saving her. For loving her with every piece of himself. For allowing her this glimpse beyond his own walls, perhaps lower set than her own, but no less heartily bricked. She's thankful for every part of this man she's allowed to know.

Her friend. Her partner.

He breaks the silence only once before dawn, his truth spilling from his lips and repeated with joy this time when she echoes his words, and finally tells him, "I love you too, Castle."

prompt: She's been 100% right about everything else. How the largeness of his frame and the thickness of his arms and the power of his thighs are amazingly proportioned to...the rest of him.

But this, this has caught her off. This has her dissolving into a smoldering puddle of primal need. Castle is...quiet.

Set in early season 5.