Written for a different challenge and the prompt 'whipped cream'. And for Rainne, for fixing it in my head and not letting it go.

And I finally got to write Lanie/Javier smut! It doesn't take place in any sort of previously contrived timeline, other than potentially the show. So, not part of the World Universe.

Predictable

Javier is sitting with Beckett, Ryan, Castle and none other than Lanie Parish, all of them celebrating the close of their latest case in the most unorthodox way possible: ice cream.

It's boiling hot under New York's August sun and since Castle gives into Beckett's every whim, they're eating ice cream in Central Park rather than letting off steam in a bar with cold beer. Usually, Javier would mind, but watching Lanie eat her sundae is too much of a treat in itself. He'd had no idea the ME had such a weakness for the sugary confection, but as he looks at the multi-coloured soup melting under the sun, he realizes it's not the ice cream she loves, it's the whipped cream.

His cock twitches in his pants as he thinks about it. It's not the first time he's had fantasies about the petite woman across from him, so he's become a virtual master at hiding the tent that's forming in his pants. He knows he should take her eyes off her, avoid watching the way she scoops the whipped cream onto her spoon before licking it off with dainty flicks of her tongue, but he can't. In fact, he's virtually fixated on it, a split screen of images flashing through his head. The stark white of the cream against her skin, the taste of salty sweat and sugary sweet against his tongue…

But then something happens that's never happened before. There's a foot sliding up his calf, higher to trail lightly against his inner thigh. His cock responds, because there's only one person who could have that kind of reach and that's the doctor sitting across from him. For a few moments, he's sure he's imagining it, but then he notices the little smirk on her face.

She knows.

How he gets through the next hour – with Lanie's foot sliding up and down his leg long after the melted ice cream and whipped cream are gone – he's not quite sure, but he gets an even bigger surprise when there's a knock on his apartment door. He doesn't know his neighbours and his job has crazy enough hours that his family calls instead of just randomly dropping by, but that doesn't make Lanie's appearance on the other side of the door any less of a surprise.

"Doc."

"Detective."

Javier can't help but think her voice is lower than he's used to and there's that playful little smirk tilting the corners of her mouth. She steps inside, brushing against him, and his cock responds again. He curses his inability to control that particular reflex around her and swallows thickly. He closes the door and when he turns back to her he gets another surprise and a confirmation of all of his fantasies.

Lanie Parish is standing in his front hallway waving a spray can of whipped cream at him.

He vaguely wonders if his brain is leaking out his ears.

"I don't got ice cream, Doc," he says, surprised that his voice is actual level.

Her smirk is utterly devilish as she steps towards him, dropping her bag. "You don't need ice cream to enjoy whipped cream."

He gets a flash back to a case and Ryan mentioning something about Lanie in a whipped cream bikini, but it disappears in the same moment he hears the hiss of the can releasing some of it's contents. She's got a dab of it on her finger and she steps towards him. When her fingers come up towards his face, he swallows thickly again, but her finger brushes down the side of his neck instead. She smears it along the side of his neck, but it isn't until she follows that action with her tongue that Javier realizes he's pretty much done for.

He plucks the can from her hand, even as he enjoys the feeling of her tongue licking up the side of his neck, and sets it on a nearby ledge. Then, in a flurry of fabric, he's got them both naked and he's carrying the whipped cream and directing her back towards his bedroom. Lanie goes along with the whole thing, kissing his neck and chest whenever she can reach. He drops the can on the bed as he threads his fingers through her curls to pull her mouth to his. He plunders, his tongue thrusting against hers with all the pent up want he's been feeling for her. She doesn't seem to care, just responds in kind, her hands tracing random patterns over his chest and ass, even the tops of his thighs.

She squeaks when he pushes her back against the bed, but grins as he picks up the whipped cream again. Her breath catches when he squirts a line down her front, following it from bottom to top. She's arching against him in ways he's only seen in his dreams and it's a little mind-boggling to realize this time she's actually here with him. Still, he's going to take advantage and with a few deft movements there's a line of cream down her throat and her nipples are covered. The cold makes her squirm, but then he's on her, his tongue licking her neck, sucking at her throat before he shoots down her body to capture a nipple in his mouth. He takes his time then, ensuring that every drop is off of her right breast before switching to the other.

She's whimpering and keening beneath him, but he doesn't let up on his assault and he has no plans to. Not when her hands are wrapped tightly around his head, not when she's pushing him into her breast and definitely not when her legs wrap around his hips so she can roll against him. He's hard as a rock and he finds himself reciting evidence from the case in his head as her wetness slides against him. Jesus, had he known whipped cream would be the way to have Lanie here beneath him, he would have given her some ages ago.

It gets even hotter when she reaches for his hand, sliding her fingers between hers before slipping both between her legs. Her hand his on top of his, so he can feel how hot and wet she is. He moans against her breast and her breath hitches at the feeling. He grins and then it's his breath catching when she starts to touch herself. She's using his fingers, but hers too, showing him what she likes, how she likes it and it's not long before she's sliding one of her fingers and one of his inside her body. He watches in awe as she fucks herself on their fingers, whimpering, moaning and groaning until she stiffens and comes with a little cry.

He's panting hard as she floats down and she smiles at him languidly. He brings their fingers to his mouth, licking them and tasting her and the whipped cream that's still on his tongue. She lets him, before pushing herself up and him down until she straddles his hips. His cock brushes against her ass and she's leaving a wet patch just above it, but he doesn't care when she brings that can of whipped cream back into play. How she manages to bring him to a fevered pitch using her tongue and the topping he's not sure, but he doesn't care as he feels her tongue slide down his abs. Then she's back up at his mouth.

"God, you are one hot man, Javi."

And that does it for him. Usually, he's the type that wants to watch, see the pleasure cross his partner's face, but he's a mess of need and want so he kisses her fiercely before grasping her hips.

"I want you on your hands and knees," he says to her, knowing his eyes are dark. She shudders against him with a little moan and he grins. It takes a bit of shifting, but then he's sliding into her, condom prudently in place, and she's sighing out her pleasure. She's hot and wet and just tight enough to make him grit his teeth. His pace is slow at first, but he can't hold back too long. Soon, he's slamming into her and she's whimpering, moaning, crying out at the feeling. The can of whipped cream is at her knee and he reaches down for it, squirting a line from the middle of her back to the nape of her neck. He licks her back clean, but even that's not enough. She's so close, he can feel it in the fluttering of her muscles. There's one last touch of whipped cream at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. He sucks it off her skin at the same time one of his hands slides around her hip to press against her clit and then she's almost screaming, burying her head in the pillow in front of her to muffle the sound. He follows her over, holding himself inside her and groaning against her back.

She's still panting when he can see straight again, though they've both collapsed to the bed. He slides off of her and takes time to dispose of the condom in the bathroom before leaning against the doorframe. He's not ashamed or scared to be naked, especially around the good Doctor Parish. When she meets his eyes, a warm sated smile spreads across her face and he can't help but mirror it.

"I think you jumped my bones, Doc."

She snorts into the pillow she's hugging. "You didn't take much convincing, Detective," she replies, sassy, but obviously tired. "Whipped cream? Could you be more predictable?"

He lets that one slide because he can feel the sticky topping on his chest and he knows Lanie's covered in it. So instead, he wanders to the bed, tugging on her arm and laughing when she groans. But he gets her into the shower and they manage to get each other clean (he's pretty sure he gave her yet another orgasm in the process too) before they head back to the bed. He tugs her down on his body and she comes willingly, curling up like a cat against his chest. He's grinning like the cat that ate the canary because she thinks he's predictable.

Now that he's got her, though, he's going to make it his mission to prove he's not.