She's seeing stars.

Black pinpricks of darkness caught up in a field of white because the skirt of her dress is up over her head and Castle's tongue is buried so deeply inside her that -

"Fu -" she groans, the word tangled up at the back of her throat, "-uucckk."

She sighs, laughter caught up in the sound as it explodes from her chest. He's teasing and tormenting her, indulging his own enjoyment at the sounds she makes, the frustrated chuckle that spills from her lips every time he pulls away. A shudder wrecks her sorely sought after composure, caution now dancing in the wind as her husband paints her swollen flesh with kisses. Nipping and tasting and touching until her body becomes a live wire that jumps and judders, flexes and flares when he swirls his tongue, grazing her with his teeth.

Her fingers curl, open and close, no anchor for her body as he keeps her laid back across the bed, hanging taut, hair cascading to the floor.

She's not moved since he deposited her on the bed, having carried her into their newly acquired honeymoon suite. He'd strode with strength and confidence, twisting her mid-air so she was over his shoulder rather than in his arms, before tossing her down and tumbling after.

They'd landed sideways.

And sideways was where they'd stayed.

Now one leg is thrown over his shoulder, the other cast wide and the thigh high split has been stolen and used thoroughly to his advantage. At her husband's mercy and loving every minute of it, Kate throws back her head and moans.

"You're -" she swallows when he licks up and up and up, tasting as he goes, "- so good at that."

He doesn't laugh or lift his head, doesn't add a finger even though she craves the forceful push of him inside. Instead he slows, his lapping tongue drawn into a point that maps her. All the way up and all the way down. Circling slowly. Peppering her with the lightest touch, a tickle, a tease until she's groaning, hips flexing and bobbing, up and down, seeking his attention.

She gasps when he complies. Thank fuck he had the devious premeditation to undo the laces of her corset. Breasts heaving but still bound, she can at least breathe through the onslaught of sensation.

Fisting the white cotton in savage handfuls, Kate fights to reclaim her sight. Vision blurring into nothing but the backs of her eyelids when Castle sucks her clit passed his teeth, holds it, and flicks across it with the flat of his tongue.

His hands roam her thighs, circle the back of her knee and arched line of her calf, fingers expanding to reach as much skin as he can without withdrawing his mouth.

He hums, and catches her ankle as she kicks out, both desperate for, and wanting escape from, the sensation, the vibrations that reverberate through his teeth, his tongue, his lightly stubbled jaw where it presses against her sopping lips.

It's almost too much. Heat blistering her skin, she sticks to everything, the dress, the bed, him. Suddenly glad when he uses her sweat to his advantage and glues himself to her. Open mouthed and deadly, Castle sucks, slurps, and hums to the tune he played on the harmonica.

Her limbs shake, her stomach clenches and everything narrows to the mounting sensation she's fighting not to give in to.

It feels too good, too intense, too miraculous to surrender just yet. Right there with her, desperate to prolong the sight of his passion strewn wife, spread eagled below him, Castle moves to her thighs, biting at the stiff and tensed muscle, coaxing her to relax.

Her hands come up and, with some difficulty as she shakes, she frees herself from the swathe of dress that's clinging to her sweaty face.

Their eyes lock and her hand drops, fingers spreading out through his hair and stroking as softly as his fingers suddenly are when they meander across her and pry her apart.

Her lip falls between her teeth, the anticipation almost as good as the sensation, watching him eye her, touch and test her, preparing to devour her. Licking his own lips and relishing the flavour. Almost as good because the moment his mouth is on her she knows this time he means business. There will be no break for air or shallow come down. No moment to catch her breath and regain composure.

With his eyes focused solely on her, Castle uses his thumbs to keep her wide and pushes his tongue as deep into her as he can, slowly coiling it upwards until her soft elasticity gives way to his invasion.

She shudders and hisses his name.

He writes her's against the burning skin he savours.

Mouth wide and his fingers twisting, wrist rotating, his tongue is replaced by longer, thicker digits bent on her destruction.

His touch is burning, borders on pain for the shortest of seconds before it's bliss. Mouth over her, teeth nibbling a path up to her clit, her heartbeat echoes from between her legs loud enough, surely, for him to hear. She thrums, bounces, rolls her hips and pulls away, can't tear her eyes from his and wants to squeeze her vision tightly shut, concentrate, all at the same time.

Castle feels so good, knows exactly where to touch and how much and maybe it's her honeymoon brain making it perfect, or maybe it just is. She's so in love with the man buried between her legs that he could pop up twirling a fake moustache and wearing a sheriff's badge and she'd still beg him to roll her over and fuck her harder.

"Soon," he kisses her, nips, makes her groan and flush and not give a shit she spoke that request outloud. He is her husband and she can beg, demand and cajole the man into taking her any damn way she pleases.

She -

He works her up and up, chases the orgasm as if desperate to catch it for her, grunting noises of satisfaction when his palm slides against her, fingers slipping into her with ease. Utterly besotted when the wet, slapping evidence of her enjoyment fills the room.

- is on -

He laps at her, sucks the tiny throbbing bud over his tongue and strums it, speeding up when she cries out, her heels drumming both his back and the bed.

- her -

Castle hums, licks, sucks, pressing up with the buried pads of his fingers, strolling them back and forth and in and out until she breaks apart, hard and wet and hot over his dancing fingertips.

- Honeymoon.

Kate cries out loudly, throatily, eyes wide but vision blurring at the edges, the intense crash of ecstasy jumping from her body in short, sharp waves. Inside and out she feels like she's glowing. Hot and broken wide, fluttering, pulsing, trembling in his arms until she has to drag his hands away, pull him up for a forceful, jittery kiss.

He laughs, delighted when her "I love you's" pitter patter over his lips and cheeks. Laughs louder still when she wriggles against him and hums the H word against the hollow of his throat.

He's content to curl up above her for now, but she'll have none of it, hooking her still tingling toes into the back of his calf and flipping them over.

"Round two." She demands, rolling him beneath her and reaching for his belt, yanking it undone with a passionate fury that has him gasping. Won't be the only thing that has him gasping, she smirks, and she'd bet her badge, her hat and any gold in them there hills, she'll be riding him bareback before his pants hit his knees.

PROMPT:

kate/castle

Honeymoon sex