FIST FIGHTING WITH FIRE
A 8x07 INSERT

Must be love on the brain
That's got me feeling this way
It beats me black and blue but it fucks me so good
And I can't get enough

Love on the Brain - Rihanna

She's nervous as she steps into the elevator.

She shouldn't be, he's her husband for God's sake. But she has no idea what his reaction will be to her showing up like this, unannounced, the day after their canceled anniversary dinner.

She clutches the Remy's bag in her hand, her coat folded over one arm, and she resists the urge to call him and let him know she's coming.

She shocked him when she walked out on him seven weeks ago. She can surprise him in a positive way by showing up now.

Her knock is tentative, but he answers right away, and part of her wonders if he'd been expecting her. She wouldn't be surprised if he'd been hovering near the door, hoping that she'd come.

"Hey," he says in surprise, but she can see a light flare in his eyes.

"Hey." She feels her face flush, and glances down at her shoes. "Happy Anniversary, a day late?"

He smirks even while stepping aside. "Or three hundred sixty four days early," he quips. "Come in."

It feels weird, stepping into the loft. It's still her home, of course, but it also feels foreign. Like when she'd shown up at his doorstep, soaked from being in a rainstorm, with nothing but love and apologies on her lips. Like she isn't sure if she'll be welcomed or rejected.

She wants to say something, that she loves him, or she's sorry, anything. But instead of something poetic or meaningful, she holds up the takeout bag and says "I brought dinner."

He takes it from her. "Remy's. Perfect."

"Look, Rick, I just want-"

His mouth is on hers before she can finish the sentence, steals the words she doesn't know she was going to say, and she leans into him, her fingers flexing around her coat. He pulls away for just a moment before he kisses her again, and she gives it right back, presses herself as close to him as she can as his tongue sweeps along her lips and his arm tightens around her shoulders.

You need to keep him safe.

She pulls away when he nips at her bottom lip, before his hands can wander too far, before she can pass the point of no return.

"Wait-"

She has to take a step back when he chases her, away from his hands, his mouth, his orbit. He gazes at her, his eyes light with a fire she hasn't seen in weeks. But she's still pursuing LokSat, still needs to stay away from him...

But maybe not tonight.

"This doesn't mean," she starts, and he shakes his head, apparently has the same idea she does. Still in sync, despite everything.

"No, I know. This is just a...time out from the time out."

"Yeah."

"Yeah." His face brightens, hopeful. "So...time in?"

She reaches for him again as he brackets his hands at her waist. "Yeah."

She barely registers the food bag, and her coat, falling to the floor. His tongue is fierce against hers, stroking, tasting, but she gives as much as he does. She sinks her teeth into his bottom lip, soothes with the swipe of her tongue, and when he grabs her ass and draws her hips flush against his, she whimpers and threads her fingers through his hair.

She can feel him against her, hard already, and feels her own arousal, the pressure between her legs growing more unbearable with each stroke of his tongue and clench of his fingers in her skirt. He walks her backwards, and she grunts when she hits the kitchen counter, hooks her ankle around his calf as his fingers tug at the hem of her skirt.

"Rick," she gasps, wiggling her ass to help him nudge it up her thighs, but the thin pencil skirt gets stuck at her hips, and she giggles at his frustrated groan.

"I love you in skirts," he complains, dropping his forehead to her shoulder, "but not this one."

She unhooks the side zipper and draws it down, watches his eyes follow the movement and darken until they're almost black with passion. "You gonna do something about it?" she teases, and she gasps when he pushes her waistband down, cups her ass, and tugs her into him.

He squeezes her hips and lifts, and she jumps, helps him lift her on the counter. "I miss you," he breathes when she locks her ankles around his middle, her heels digging into his ass. He rocks his hips into her, and she grunts, draws his mouth to hers again.

Her fingers work at the buttons of his shirt even as he pulls her into his arms and starts walking them towards the bedroom. He stumbles when her mouth drifts along his jaw, nipping, soothing, one hand at his nape and the other at his belt. Part of her wants to go slow, wants to take her time and wrap her lips around him, to come apart with just the stroke of his tongue, but not now.

No, right now she just wants him buried inside her, his body covering hers, his hands pinning hers to the mattress.

He lets her go when they cross the threshold to the bedroom—their bedroom—and she makes quick work of his pants and boxers, her fingers circling around him, drawing a groan from him with a few quick strokes.

"If you do that," he warns, grabbing her wrist, "this is going to end before it even begins."

She lifts her arms when he grips the hem of her sweater, waits for him to draw it over her head before unhooking her bra. His eyes are on her chest as she lets the bra flutter to the floor, and he reaches a tentative hand out to skim up her waist to her breast. Her breath hitches at the flick of his thumb over her nipple, and when he palms her breast and bends to take the hard nub between his teeth, she scrapes her fingers through his hair and gasps.

"Oh my God." She grips his shoulders when he switches breasts, uses all of her strength to stay standing even as he slips his hand beneath the waistband of her underwear and cups her wet heat with a groan. She walks them towards the bed, falls on it when her legs hit the mattress, pulls him on top of her.

He trails his lips across the valley between her breasts, pausing at her scar as he always does, presses a soft kiss to it in reverence. He shifts his attention down her torso to her new scar, below her ribcage, the one she'd had to stitch herself just weeks ago.

She looks at him when he pauses and lifts his head, and when he just stares at the scar, she tugs at his ear to get him to look at her.

"Hey," she rasps, fingers cupping his ears. "Come here."

He hesitates, but after a moment hovers over her, props himself on his elbows, and grins. "Hi."

She returns his smile and cups his cheek. "Hi." She sees the hesitation in his eyes, the worry that when this night is over they'll go back their separate ways. And he isn't wrong; she still needs to keep her distance, to keep him safe during her investigation, but she can't deny herself any longer, especially not for their anniversary. She broke his heart, and the one thing she needs to do is mend it.

This will start.

Of course, the seven weeks since they'd made love are glaring at her, too.

God, she wants him.

She eyes his shirt, unbuttoned but still on, and shoves it off his shoulders. "Why are you not naked?" she complains, and he chuckles while he throws it to the floor.

"I could say the same about you," he teases, hooking his thumbs in the waistband of her underwear and drawing them down her legs.

"Rick," she warns, lifting her hips, and he chuckles against the inside of her thigh, his mouth hovering over her skin, slick with her arousal. "Don't tease m-oh!" She cries out when his tongue meets her center, swiping along her folds and curling around her clit for a moment before flicking it with the tip of his tongue.

She can feel her climax approaching already, the telltale flutter in her center, but before she breaks he's above her again. She tries to glare at him, but judging by the smirk on his face, she fails. "I hate you sometimes," she says in a low voice, but she grips the back of his neck and pulls his mouth down to hers.

He chuckles into her mouth as he opens to the swipe of her tongue, and they both pull away and groan when he sinks into her. He stays still for a long moment as she adjusts, but finally she rolls her hips in encouragement.

"God, Castle, move."

He does, a long, slow thrust, and she digs her nails into his shoulders and drops her knees to the bed, opening herself up even more as he quickens. She shudders around him after just a few strokes, her orgasm spreading from her center through her entire body, and he groans against her neck as he jerks inside her.

He continues to move after his orgasm, and before she knows it she's coming again, but it isn't enough, not tonight. If she's going to distance herself again after this, she's going to make it worthwhile, make it a night of lovemaking neither of them will ever forget.

He's still hard inside her, and she grips his ass, and with her mouth at his ear whispers for him to just fuck me harder. He does, pausing just long enough to readjust, to sit up and drape her thighs over his. She can watch as he enters her again, can see his cock, glistening with her juices, as he withdraws.

He slams into her, hard, and she arches off the bed, hands gripping the sheet above her head she's afraid she'll tear holes in it. The comforter is long gone, discarded off the side of the bed, but she doesn't care, only cares about the man pounding into her, chanting her name like a prayer.

"Kate…oh, Kate…"

She digs her heels into his ass, uses the leverage to sit up and wrap her arms around his waist. She wants him on her, wants to feel his body entirely against her, skin on skin. She wants to feel his whole body tremble as he comes, his breath hot on her neck.

He splays his hands across her back and shifts, turns them so she's on his lap, groans into the hollow of her throat when she rolls her hips. "Oh my God," he moans, punctuating with a hard thrust.

She shoves him to the mattress, leans forward and pins his wrists to the bed. "Let me do the work for a few minutes," she husks into his ear, punctuating with a nip to his earlobe. He cranes his neck when she starts to sit up and she meets his mouth with hers.

He moans her name, and he sounds so desperate, so needy that she gives in for a few moments, stills her hips and just kisses him. She cups his jaw, brushes her thumbs across his cheeks, and smiles against his mouth before pulling back so she can look in his eyes.

"I love you," she says, hopes like she never has before that he can hear the sincerity in her voice, that her eyes are as open and honest as her words. "More than you know."

He smiles at her, his whole face lighting up, and presses his smile to hers. "I love you too," he whispers.

She kisses him again, lets him pull her back down on top of him as her tongue slicks against his. She shifts her hips when she pulls away, circling, grinning at the low moan she draws from his throat as she squeezes her inner muscles around him.

"Kate," he moans, lifting his hips, his hands gripping her thighs as she rolls her hips.

She leans back, propping her hands on his thighs for leverage as she moves, and watches his eyes darken as they focus on where they're joined. Before long he's panting, groaning, his hips thrusting into her with sloppy movements, her muscles squeezing, thighs trembling as she rides him. His name leaves her lips on a moan when she feels her orgasm take over, her core clenching, squeezing as he follows her over the edge.

She collapses on top of him, bare chests melded against each other, and she curls her hands around his shoulders as his wrap around her back, holding her tight against him.

"I love you," she repeats into his skin, nuzzling her nose in the crook of his neck.

He sifts his fingers through her hair. "I love you too," he mutters. "Stay awhile?"

She smudges a kiss to the underside of his jaw. "Of course."

He wakes to the warmth of her mouth on his cock.

He's disoriented for a minute, used to waking either alone in bed or on the couch in his office, but the moment he realizes he's not dreaming, he gently places his hand on her head.

"Kate," he husks, cupping the back of her head, watching her bob down on him. When she glances at him, her eyes dark and lips around his swollen head, he groans and props himself on his elbows to see her better.

"Sorry," she says, releasing him with a pop, but the glint in her eyes and hand that continues to twist and stroke him say that she's the opposite of apologetic. "I woke up, and you were hard, and I just…" She glances down, then regains eye contact as she descends on him again. "I couldn't resist."

He forces his eyes to stay on hers when she gives him a long, slow lick, and after just a few moments he can feel the beginning tugs of his orgasm. He doesn't want to come yet, though. Not before he can enjoy her.

He tugs lightly at her hair, encouraging her to sit up, and reaches for her shoulders. "Come here," he whines. At the questioning quirk of her brow, he squeezes her bicep. "I wanna taste you."

She grins and crawls over him, meets his waiting mouth with hers, the stroke of his tongue drawing a moan from her.

He can taste himself on her tongue, and it spurs him on, inflames him. It's intoxicating. She's intoxicating.

He lies back down on the bed, pulling her on top of him, one hand in her hair and the other sliding down the length of her spine to cup her ass. His fingers find her, slick with arousal, and her hips jerk when he presses his thumb against her clit.

She pulls her mouth from his with a "oh shit," and he grips her thighs and squeezes in encouragement. She rises to her knees, but before she lowers herself to his waiting mouth she swings her leg over him, to face away from him.

He moans when she - finally - descends on him, his eyes closing in pleasure at the burst of flavor on his tongue when it meets her folds. His hips jerk when her mouth wraps around his cock again, but they soon find a familiar rhythm, their bodies syncing around the suction of her mouth and the stroke of his tongue.

She shudders when his tongue finds her clit, and his teeth scrape against it in a way he knows drives her crazy. She lifts her head from him with a cry when he slips two fingers inside her, pumping slowly, but he has to drop his head back to the mattress when her mouth engulfs him again.

"Fuck!"

She chuckles around him, but it turns into a moan when he tugs her hips down, and covers her with his mouth. He speeds up when she does, his tongue merciless against her folds and clit, hers against his cock, and before long he feels the tug of his impending orgasm.

This time, he doesn't hold back.

He curls his fingers inside her, searching, seeking the spot that will make her come, but before he succeeds she swallows around his head, and he cries out and jerks, his hips uncontrollable.

"I'm gonna-" is the only warning he can manage before he's coming, but she takes it, doesn't let up as he spills against her tongue.

She climbs off him and scrambles around so they're face to face, and he brackets her face in his hands, flips them over as they kiss. He pins her arms above her head and trails his lips across her cheek, nips at her pulse point, presses her hips into the mattress with his when she lifts into him.

"Your turn," he says against her neck, looks up at her when she sifts her fingers through his hair. When she just smiles, her eyes dark and hooded with desire, he shifts his attention to her collarbone.

He pays special attention to her breasts, knowing from experience how the stimulation turns her on, especially when she's close, but when her hips start rolling again he continues his journey down her body. His lips ghost along her torso, and despite her whimper he avoids her center, instead follows the line of her hips, to the inside of her thigh. He presses a kiss high on one thigh, just below her core, then switches to the other, darts his tongue to taste the arousal on her skin before holding her legs down and swiping his tongue through her folds.

She cries out at the touch, hips lifting, fingers burying themselves in his hair, holding him between her legs. "Rick-" she manages to gasp.

He moves away from her for just a moment, long enough so he can kneel on the floor, on the discarded comforter, and drag her to the edge of the bed. He wraps his arms around her legs as he delves back between them, his teeth scraping, tongue tasting, until finally she's undulating against him, begging for his fingers.

He obliges after the first wave of her orgasm floods his mouth, slipping two fingers in easily, then a third as he wraps his lips around her clit. His thumb works alongside his tongue, and he abandons her hips with his other hand, allows her to roll against him as he reaches up her torso to find her breast.

A well-placed curl of his fingers and flattening of his tongue has her arching off the bed, a cry of his name preceding her climax. He continues through her waves of pleasure, until she stills and pushes at his head, nudging it from her in a familiar request to move away. He allows himself one more long, languid lick of the remnants of her pleasure, and slows his hand, finally withdrawing when he recognizes the final squeeze around his fingers.

He groans as he sits back on the floor, leaning against the bed as he hears her shift above him. "That was even better than I remembered," he manages, and her responding chuckle reverberates through the mattress and into his very soul.

"Yeah, well," she teases, rolling over and grabbing his hand, "I had to leave a few moves for year two." There's a long pause, and then, "Rick?"

"Mm-hmm?"

"When you were in that divorce lawyer's office, I was watching."

He lifts his head in mock surprise. "Why, Captain Beckett, I had no idea. I feel so violated."

She giggles, then falls silent for a long moment. "I know you were just playing a role, but…" She sighs before continuing, and he turns his head enough so he can see her, head propped on her hand, teeth worrying her bottom lip. "When she asked you if there was any hope for us, and you didn't say anything, I was…"

When she doesn't continue, he holds his hand towards her, waits for her to grab his thumb before responding. "Kate. I have never given up hope, not since the day we met." He meets her eyes, wills her to see the honesty he hopes is in his gaze. "And that will never change, until you tell me it should."

She grips his thumb and smiles. "Then don't change," she says, "ever."

"Okay," he smiles.

"Okay."

And despite the mysterious text she receives when she's in the bathroom, despite knowing she's keeping something from him, the smile and good-bye kiss she gives him tells him what he hasn't been sure of until now. That despite their separation, despite his initial worries that he'd done something to push her away, she'll come back to him. When she's ready, she'll come home.

Must be love on the brain