Moving to the couch for a glass of water and a breather after I miss you and me too seems like a good idea, a smart idea, to put a little bit of space and a non-alcoholic beverage in between them while this is still so new and fresh and not quite worked out yet. His couch cushions dip though, list toward the middle, and she thinks he should really, really be able to afford a better sofa. They're thigh to thigh and shoulder to shoulder when she finally gives into temptation and lets her eyes glance down to his lips.

"I should…" she says slowly, stops when his fingers brush the back of her neck through her hair, the hand he had resting innocuously behind her head on the couch finally giving into temptation too.

"You should…?" His voice is only a breath away, index finger making her shiver as it drags a slow path down the nape of her neck and under the collar of her shirt. She swallows thickly.

They hold eye contact as she tenses every single muscle in her body, restraining. She really, really wants to just climb into his lap but she's trying to go slow. (When did going slow become an issue?) Her eyes slide closed as his finger plays against her spine, thumb sweeping up into her hairline, rubbing tiny little circular patterns against the baby soft skin there.

He whispers her name but she doesn't open her eyes.

"Will you kiss me again?" she finally exhales, biting her lip, waiting.

She hears him suck in a breath, his fingers stilling against her neck. "Will you open your eyes while I do?"

She blinks her lids, finding him so, so close and then he's pressing forward, stealing a kiss from her willing mouth. She groans softly as his tongue just barely brushes her bottom lip, watching his pupils get bigger, the blue of his irises darken, watching him lose himself in her, and then she's grabbing for the sides of his face and tossing a leg over his lap. They both stop to gasp when she settles right on top of him, an accidentally perfect slide of her pelvis against his, and then it's all open mouths and swallowed sighs until his palm skims up and under the loose material of her shirt to splay completely against her lower stomach. She arches sharply at the feel of him there, in a place where he's never ever touched, her muscles jumping under his palm.

"God, you're soft," he groans haphazardly into her cheek, kissing his way across her jaw. She fists her fingers in the back of his hair at the comment, making him arch a little bit this time, needing to hold on because Castle whispering things in her ear while he's touching her is unsurprisingly intense. He presses a wet, open mouthed kiss on the underside of her jaw, just on her neck, and then slides his hand back out from under her shirt, stopping to toy with the button on the bottom. He pulls back to look at her and then flicks the button open with his thumb. "Is this okay?" he breathes into her mouth, wanting permission.

"Yes." She sits back on his thighs and watches him unbutton her completely from the bottom up, barely breathing as his knuckles brush the bare skin of her stomach when he finally finishes. His index finger is the first thing to really touch her with purpose, he taps it softly against the top of her chest and then lets it drag down down down, over her bullet hole, between her breasts, down over her bellybutton and then right to the waistband of her jeans. "God, Castle," she groans, coming completely undone by a solitary finger on barely hidden skin. She can't help but wonder what it will be like when he –

Just as she starts to let her mind go, his hand is pulling away and she's left in his lap, utterly untouched. She starts to say his name, but then he's reaching for the jacket she left clumsily draped over the side of the couch, rummaging around in one of the pockets. Oh. His hand comes back to her with two green lantern bandaids and her heart starts thudding because she kind of forgot that he's never actually seen her scars before. This is not what she wants to be thinking about when they're finally doing this, but then he's surprising her in that way that only he ever really does, heading straight for the place where her bandaids will be the mirror image of his. Going straight for her heart not her scars, and fuck he knows her entirely too well because it's not her physical scars that really mar her, that really matter, it's the ones that no one can even see.

She's quiet as he presses them on, so, so gently, and then he's leaning down, dropping a kiss there, whispering something that she's sure she's heard before, something he doesn't want to pressure her into saying but she can practically feel him vibrating with it, with I love you, Kate, and so she blindly reaches for his tshirt, fisting his bandaids tightly as he finishes loving hers. When he's done, her eyes are bright for him and she grabs the back of his head with the hand not clutching at his shirt, crushing their mouths together frantically, desperate to prove to him that they can fix this, that it's worth fixing, that it's everything.

She leaves them on, her two green lantern bandaids, as he picks her up and carries her to his bedroom, as he kicks the door shut while she tears at his shirt, as he lays her out on his bed, as he worships her long into the night. They pull at her skin a little bit as she twists underneath his weight, tug not unlike her scars except that these are a pleasant reminder, some physical mark of him, on her chest and inside of her as he moves, as he slides his palm up and over her chest and onto them as she arches and tries not to scream.

She loves him too.