AN: Happy Birthday Kelly! Wishing you a wonderful day and a fabulous year full of fangirling and Caskett sexytimes and smoldering looks and FEELS and squeeing and flailing and… ALL the good things! :)

'Cause I love the way you say good morning'

Kate drifts into consciousness slowly, languidly, as if she is floating through white cushy clouds, soft against her skin, caressing up and down her back. Her dreams dissipate into nothingness as awareness crawls up her spine and it's his fingers tripping along her skin, dancing over her shoulder blades and the curves of her ribcage.

She shifts toward him, blinks open her eyes, can't stop the slow smile from spreading over her face, drifting on a languorous wave of happiness and a touch of quiet disbelief because she's really here with him. He is here. They both are.

Castle.

He is lying on his side, his head propped up on one elbow, watching her with a solemn smile while he skims a hand along her shoulder, cups her cheek. His eyes are brimming with love, reflect such astonished awe at finding her with him that her heart flutters in her chest. She kisses the heel of his hand, barely grazes her teeth against his skin.

His eyes flash and she rises, seals her lips to his mouth. Their morning kiss is long and leisurely and deep, his tongue tangling with hers, give and take and she's astounded all over again just how good it feels, with him, aching and perfect and right.

When they pull apart he smiles at her, wide and oh, so very happy with her that she is flooded with warmth, has to suppress the swell of tears behind her eyelids.

"G'Morning," she murmurs, runs her teeth along her bottom lip where the tingle of his flavor is still present.

"Good morning, Kate." He trails his fingertips down her cheeks, tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear. "Coffee?"

'Every morning I bring you a cup of coffee just so that I can see a smile on your face,' she remembers vividly but instead of the destructive ache she had felt at the time, now it's only warmth spreading through her at the manifestation of his unerring commitment to her, those hundreds and hundreds of cups of coffee and so she smiles, can hardly contain it as she nods. "Yeah. Coffee."

He grins, at once playful as he grabs her under the arms, deposits her back onto the mattress; she squeals in surprise and he swallows her giggles with his mouth, delving inside of her, kisses her fast and intense until she gasps for breath and he pulls away.

"Okay. Coffee," he gasps on a ragged breath and then he leaps out of bed, throws her a saucy grin before he slips on his boxers and taps toward his kitchen.

She unabashedly watches his ass, taut and round underneath the fabric as he walks, and when he is out of her view she languidly stretches her body against the smooth sheets of his bed. Castle's bed. She grins. The giddy feeling just won't subside, the reality that they finally, finally did this and oh god, just how amazing it was. Is. She feels both bashful and excited, her insides fluttery, her cheeks flushed, and then she can't be contained, leaps out of the bed.

Her feet hit the ground and she is unceremoniously reminded of all her body had to endure yesterday when her bones get jolted violently. She stands still for a moment, breathes through it as she takes stock. Her ribs are definitely bruised and tender, her shoulders ache in their sockets, her legs, her back are sore too.

But she is sick of it, so sick of not being enough, of all these issues; she wants to hold on to this happiness, grab this elated joy and keep living it and so she ignores it, ignores it all as she bends down, picks his maroon shirt up off the floor and slides her arms inside.

It smells so much like him that it makes her knees shaky, and she nudges her nose into the collar for a moment, inhales the comforting, familiar scent, lets the sense of calm run through her like a soothing balm.

Buttoning a few of the buttons while she's walking, she makes her way toward his kitchen.

The refrigerator door is open when she comes into the room, and Castle's torso has disappeared into it, only his butt and legs visible to her as he rummages around in it. She stares for a few seconds, lets her eyes trail over the curve of his ass and down his legs, his calves bulging with tight muscles.

"Hey," she calls out to him and he straightens, peeks at her around the door of the fridge. His eyes widen when he takes her in, unabashedly admires the view, his eyes roaming up from her legs, over his shirt and to her chest before he captures her eyes with his gaze, smirks at her and it's enticing and devastatingly sexy.

"Would you like some pancakes?" His voice sounds raspy and she grins, loves the effect she has on him.

She saunters closer, leans her hip against the counter by the fridge. "I'm more of a waffles kind of girl." She grins, lifts up an eyebrow.

He pushes the door closed with his hip, grabs her around the waist and pulls her against him. "You can have waffles," he rumbles, nips at the smile on her lips. She can practically hear the underlying thoughts that spill forth from his mind, you can have anything you want, so loud in his kiss as if he'd actually voiced them, and it fills her with viscous warmth.

Kate chases his lips with her mouth, deepens the kiss for a moment, drawing him against her, this sweet sweet man, nudges her nose against his before she pulls away. Shifting in his arms, she gazes on the counter, surveying what he's taken out of the refrigerator.

"Mmm… strawberries…" She digs into the container, pulls out one large fruit with her fingertips. "And whipped cream…" She shifts her gaze back to him, lifts up one eyebrow teasingly. "Were you expecting company?"

But he doesn't grin in return, only smiles very softly. "Yes. You."

Her eyes widen, everything grinds to a standstill and then she remembers. Movie night. Before everything went to hell. I'd love to, she had promised. And meant it. Finally she had felt light enough to do this, ready and wanting. Aching for him. Well. She had done one hell of a detour, yet here she was, anyway. Right here where she wants to be.

She smiles, tightens her arm around his waist. Turning her torso once more toward the counter, she dips the strawberry into the whipped cream until a thick dollop rests on its tip.

"And you stocked up for breakfast…" She turns back toward him, holds up the fruit between them, smirking.

"Were you trying to seduce me, Castle?"

His eyes darken, his grip on her tight, a knee wedged between her thighs. "Yes."

Her mouth drops open at the dark truth of his words, the churn of desire hot, low in her abdomen because she knows, she knew it at the time. This is where they were heading all along. And she came, willingly.

He wraps his hand around hers, nudges the strawberry against her mouth and she opens her lips, holds his gaze as she bites down on the luscious fruit, the flavor bursting on her tongue, tart and sweet, mingling with the smooth rich cream and then his mouth seals over hers, his tongue delving deep inside, stealing the strawberry and cream flavors off her tongue but replacing it with his own.

She digs her nails against his spine, the rest of the strawberry forgotten and falling to the floor when she wraps her other hand around his neck, rocking her body hard against his thigh and it's fast, urgent and needy when he lifts her by her hips, sits her up on the kitchen counter.

The glass tiles are chilly against her bare skin, goose bumps race over her skin and she gasps into his mouth. He steps between her thighs, rips open her, his, shirt on her and then his hands are curved around her breasts, his fingers rolling, tweaking her nipples firmly. Sensations shoot straight into her lower body, soaking her with wet warm want. His mouth plunders hers, his tongue deep, exploring and she arches her chest against his hands, seeking more, more, please more.

She claws her nails into his spine, spurring him on and it's the same intensity roaring back with a vengeance, that desperate, churning want she had felt last night when she had tackled his mouth and he had pushed her against his front door, roamed his hands and mouth over her with frantic urgency.

Castle's mouth is sliding lower, trailing kisses and the rasp of his teeth over her jaw, down her neck and she's flooded with want, hot and clawing and oh, she needs him to take her, now.

"Cas…" She gasps, barely coherent, her words sloppy, "your fa…" She groans, can barely think coherently when his mouth wraps around her breast, vigorously sucking her into the heated cavern of his mouth. "Family."

"Not home," he growls against her skin. "Hours."

And she lets go, all control lost as she drops her head back, her pelvis rocking against his middle while he lavishes attention on her breasts; his hands and his mouth so clever, seeking her responses with single-minded focus. She's tugging on the hair at the back of his neck, keeping him there or urging him lower, she doesn't even know.

He dances his mouth toward her stomach, his hands cradled around her ribcage when he gasps, stops. "Kate!" His touch is soft, trailing along the ribs on her left. "What happened?" He sounds so shocked that she blinks open her eyes, struggles to grasp for coherent thoughts as she looks down toward him.

The line of bruises that runs along the bottom of her ribcage is vibrant, mottled in blue and purple and black. She twirls her fingers through his hair. Not now, please, not now. "Tell you later," she promises, pushes her palm on his head, nudging him lower, needy and desperate for his flaming touch.

He's still not moving, his fingers achingly soft, too tender against her. "You okay?"

"Yes," she groans impatiently, arches her middle into him, needing him so much, only him, always him. "Castle, please."

"Don't let me hurt you!" He grounds the words through his teeth, insistent and unrelenting and she nods, yes yes, shoves on his head, needs him to touch her, fast and hard and now, now.

"Touch me."

He growls, wraps his hands around her ankles and lifts them up on the counter, one on each side of him, splaying her thighs wide in the process and she drops her arms behind her, catches her balance on the heels of her hands. Oh god she can't believe she's naked on top of his kitchen counter, feels daring and dirty and her skin flushes with warmth but she doesn't care, needs nothing more than the burning fire of his touch.

She drops her head to see his face; can't stop watching him as he takes her in, all of her displayed for him in broad daylight, open and exposed. Heat swirls through her abdomen, heavy with expectation, shaky with need. And then he slowly drags a finger along the wet length of her.

His caress is bold and intimate, sure in its path as he explores her, a concentrated trail of molten sparks. And she wants more, wants him hard and intense, the culmination of four years of anticipation and veiled desire. Her head falls back on a groan, her hips rising, urging into him and he grips a hand around one of her thighs, holds her in place as he pushes two fingers deep inside her body.

She cries out in pleasure, filled to the brim with the intimacy of his intrusion.

"You feel so good, Kate," he groans, stills, his lips whispering against her thighs, the trail of his breath bursting over the heated moisture of her body, so close to where she needs him most, making her whimper, quivery and then he seals his mouth over her, intense suction and the teasing dance of his tongue over her nerves. Pressure inside and out, strong, so very strong where he touches her, presses, nips, flicks, insistent, lightning bolts of pleasure everywhere and she sobs out sounds, his name, over and over as the white hot fire races through her, blinding and consuming, her muscles quaking on the flames licking against her spine.

She tugs on his head, urging him up, up, her core weeping; blindly tucks on the waistband of his boxers while she finds his mouth with hers, tangles her tongue with his, tasting herself and him and now, now, now.

Kate wraps her fingers around his length, guides him to her, almost sobbing from the sensation when he surges inside, meets her deeply, urgently, unrelenting in his strokes. He sets a fast pounding pace and she's loud, so loud, the delirious sounds of them mingling, echoing, filling the blank spaces of the kitchen. She clamps her legs around his hips, clings tightly to him, wants nothing more than to be close, connected, intertwined with him as her world splinters and breaks apart around her, the sounds of his dark moans swallowing hers when he shatters right after her.

Her mind is wiped blank, no thoughts, no worries, nothing left but the incredible feel, the sounds, the scent of him. Rick. Castle.

He drags her with him, his arms shaky around her as he slumps down on the floor, his back against the kitchen cabinet and she ends up draped over him like a rag doll, her arms and legs wobbly, no strength left to move.

"Wow that was…" He mumbles, his chest hitching against her, gulping for oxygen.

She's gasping for air, still can't catch her breath. "Yeah."

TBC