Chapter Text
Beckett should really stop being surprised when she learns pertinent information about her partner from sources that are not him.
A dinner with his mother and daughter, Castle had said! A ladies night, he said! Kate had been suspicious then, but an excuse to see Alexis and Martha without Castle’s editorializing isn’t something she often passes up, so she went with it, and now—
“I mean, I surround myself with straight men all day every day,” she says and throws her hands up, “of course I need a little girl time sometimes.”
“Richard—“ Martha starts, but Alexis smacks her on the shoulder and hisses at her to stop talking. Beckett squints at the duo.
“What is it?” she asks and glances over her shoulder, just in case Castle had somehow snuck up behind her. He didn’t, but she wouldn’t put it past him. Alexis stares daggers at her grandmother, but Kate doesn’t let up. “Alexis…”
“If Dad hasn’t told you, I don’t feel like it’s my place,” Alexis says and rests her hand on Martha’s forearm. “ Gram .”
Kate looks back and forth between the two women. She thinks back about what she said, what Martha could be implying, and stops when it occurs to her. It was supposed to be a nice girls’ night with Martha and Alexis, and now? Now her straight fiancé’s mother is implying that he’s not-so-straight indeed.
She decides to drop it.
For now.
-
She doesn’t bring it up that night, after Martha retires to the loft and Alexis returns to her own apartment. She doesn’t bring it up when Castle falls into bed beside her, wrapping his big arms and broad chest around her slender body. She doesn’t bring it up when his hand drifts to her breast, thumbing over a nipple in a way he knows makes her go wild, and when his hand trails lower, it gets shifted to the back of her mind.
She doesn’t bring it up until the next morning.
Castle brings her a coffee in bed. She doesn’t have to go into the precinct today, just stay on call in case of a sudden murder, so they sleep in a little later than they might usually. Castle gets up and futzes around in the kitchen for a while, and then he brings back two lattes in their respective favorite mugs. She accepts the warm ceramic in her palms and sits up against the headboard.
“How’d you sleep?” Castle asks and crawls back into bed beside her. He holds out his mug and she clinks the two cups together.
“Pretty well,” she replies and takes a long sip of coffee. It’s perfect, as always; Castle figured out how Kate takes her lattes four years ago when he bought the machine for the precinct. “I am a little distracted, though.”
Castle cocks an eyebrow up and settles in better against the headboard. “You didn’t seem distracted last night, when I–”
“Castle,” Kate murmurs and gives him The Look. The Look never fails to make him realize that whatever it is he’s saying, it probably isn’t the time or place, and his mouth shuts with an apologetic tilt to his lips. “During dinner last night, your mother said something… Interesting.”
The man’s face drops. “Whatever it is, it’s either a lie or such a wild exaggeration it might as well be,” he says and pulls his mug up to hide the lower half of his face behind.
“It wasn’t a bad thing,” Kate adds and then takes a long sip of her latte. She takes the time to lick the foam off her upper lip and hum in appreciation at the taste of the drink. Castle squirms, but what else is new? Torturing her fiancé is one of her most beloved pastimes. His eyes grow more and more wild with impatience the longer she takes, and finally she sets her mug down on her– and she’s still getting used to that – bedside table.
She turns to him, schooling her face into something approximating mischievous intrigue. Castle sets his own mug down and leans in closer.
“I said,” Kate starts, watching every twitch in the man’s face, “that I spend all my time surrounded by straight men.”
Castle sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and bites.
“Meaning Espo, Ryan, and,” Kate says and reaches over, dragging a finger down the center of Castle’s chest, “you.”
“I see,” Castle says and narrows his eyes at her. “And to that, she said…”
“Well,” Kate says and gestures vaguely, “Alexis made her stop. She told her it wasn’t her place to share. So, I extrapolated.”
“You’ve always been good at that,” Castle murmurs. His shoulders begin to relax, and Kate feels tension ooze out of her own body in turn. She didn’t want this to be a confrontation: if Castle isn’t straight, she wants him to be able to tell her of his own free will. “And what was your conclusion?”
Kate tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear and meets Castle’s eyes, trying to push as much sincerity and care into her expression as she can. “You’re not. Straight, that is.”
Castle’s lips quirk up. “And you would be correct.”
Kate’s chest does a swoopy, anxious thing and she can tell it shows on her face, because Castle shifts closer and touches her. The second his big hand smooths over her bicep, Kate feels any worry as to a change in their relationship evaporate. She opens her mouth to speak, but the words don’t come right away. For once, Castle doesn’t fill the silence, just waits for her to find them.
“You were always so adamant when we asked you if you were gay,” she offers weakly.
“Well, I’m not,” Castle agrees. “But I’m not straight either. I like both men and women.”
Kate’s mind is suddenly populated with images of Castle, entangled with another man, being pressed into the mattress by large hands, fucked thoroughly and–
“Beckett?”
Kate blinks away the visions and looks at Castle. His hair is floppy and soft, his face is concerned.
“Did you date? Men?” she asks. Castle’s mouth turns up in a small, hesitant little smile. “I’m just curious.”
“I did,” he says and takes back up his coffee. Kate notes that it seems like an absent movement, something to keep his hands busy more than anything else, and she reaches over to touch him. Just his side, the soft spot where his stomach gives way to a divot between his ribs and hips. He takes a sip of coffee and then looks at Kate expectantly. “Is that all?”
“I– No, Castle,” she says and rolls her eyes. “Tell me about them. I know about most of your ex-girlfriends, ex-wives, I didn’t know there was anyone else to ask about.”
“Most of them were short,” he says and shrugs. “Casual. It’s harder to date men when you’re famous. A lot of them are closeted, or don’t want to be with a man as high-profile as me. I went to bars, mostly. When I didn’t want to be in the tabloids the next day, I’d go to a gay bar, or a club. Men there keep it low key.”
Castle, sweating through a silky button-up shirt, Castle grinding back against a faceless man, Castle up against a brick wall, with his pants just barely yanked down, mouth on his throat–
“Beckett,” Castle says and sets his coffee down again, still not finished. He cups her face in his wide, gentle hands and looks her in the eye. “What are you thinking? Does this bother you?”
Kate shakes her head so violently that Castle’s finger jabs into her ear. “No! No,” she says and shifts even closer. Their legs touch. “I– Castle, it’s not bad! It’s just new.”
Castle squints at her. “You seem upset.”
Kate feels her cheeks flush hot. In truth, she’s not upset. She’s… Horny. Castle, pinned by a large figure, legs spread, hands pinned– she’s already wet, just from thinking about it. Still, it feels… intrusive, in a way. Just because Castle is her partner now doesn’t mean that she has free reign to all of his past, nor does she want to. Just because they’ve fucked now, doesn’t mean fantasizing about him with someone else isn’t objectifying.
“Tell me what’s in your head, Beckett,” Castle says and rubs his thumb over her cheekbone. “Does this change things between us?”
“Castle,” she says, leans in, and kisses him. When she pulls away, his face looks even more confused than it did before. “In all honesty, I–” She hides her face in her hands. “God, this is so embarrassing.”
“Just tell me, Kate,” Castle murmurs.
“Tell me about them,” she whispers. “The hook-ups.”
“In a factual, you want to know things about me way, or–”
Kate feels a sudden surge of bravery. This is Castle. This is the man who pursued her for four years, the man that, when she told him she hooked up with a few women in college, nearly came in his pants. This is Castle . He understands. She swings her leg over his hips and straddles him. His hands fly at once to her waist, a position the two of them are all too familiar with, and she leans in close to his ear.
“Tell me about them,” she breathes and rocks her hips down against his.
Castle’s mouth falls open. “You–”
“Castle,” Kate insists and grinds down again. “Tell me about them.” It comes out a command and Castle twitches under her.
“I– Ah– I knew I liked boys when I was eight and saw Han Solo on a movie screen,” he blubbers, hands on her hips, still pressed into the headboard. “I kissed a boy in tenth grade, got a handy behind the gym in eleventh.”
“That’s not what I’m asking about, babe,” Kate says and drags her mouth to his jaw, nibbling on the spot below his ear. “Tell me what you did in those clubs you mentioned.”
Castle moans and slides one hand back to grab her ass. She’s just in a t-shirt and panties, the most she throws on after Castle strips her out of her day clothes, and she thrusts forward against him in time with his squeeze.
“I’d dance sometimes,” Castle pants and presses his lips to the smooth column of her throat. “I’d find a man who’d meet my eyes and move over to him, ask him what he wanted.”
Beckett can see it: Castle in a too-far unbuttoned shirt, raising an eyebrow in that questioning way she knows so well, using his big hands and bigger personality to charm men into dancing right against him. He’d get hard— it would be impossible not to, with an ass gyrating against his crotch, pressure and heat all in one.
“Did you take him home?” Kate murmurs and throws her head back so Castle can kiss his way up her neck the way he knows she likes. He stops just under her jaw and nips at the skin; they both know not to leave visible marks, but something that might fade in an hour, hidden in the shadow of Kate’s chin? She’ll let it slide more often than not.
“Sometimes,” Castle replies. His voice vibrates through her throat. “Other times I’d follow him to the bathroom, or take him out back to a dark alleyway. He’d have his hands in my hair, tell me I had such a pretty mouth. Why don’t I put it to use?”
Kate moans and reaches down between them to press insistently at her clit. Grinding against Castle is great— is fucking excellent— but in this moment she needs more than dry humping and breathless kisses. Castle seems to get the idea and lifts his hips just enough to yank his pajama pants and boxers down with one hooked thumb. His cock springs up, hard and leaking, and he scrambles in his bedside table for a condom. He rolls it onto himself with one hand and throws the wrapper on the floor.
Kate takes only as long as she needs to shift her underwear to the side and drag some of her own arousal over Castle’s covered dick before she sinks down onto him.
“Christ, Kate,” Castle groans and squeezes her hips so tight she’s sure he’ll leave bruises. “This turn you on? Knowing I’d get on my knees for an anonymous man I’d never meet again?”
Kate breathes in through her mouth, out through her nose. Castle’s cock is relatively average in length, but it’s thick and curved in a way that presses right against the spot inside her that makes her feel insane.
“Yeah,” she admits breathlessly before starting to shift her hips up and down, barely a half inch at a time. “Did you let them fuck you, Rick?”
Castle’s face goes red and his cock twitches inside of her. “I— I—“ He thrusts his hips up, but Kate stills and holds him down.
“Tell me,” she insists, “and then you can have me.”
Castle’s face contorts in desperation and embarrassment. He leans forward and presses his face into the crook of Kate’s neck again, biting at the hem of her t-shirt. “I did,” he whispers, “I’d go back to their places. Never mine, not after Alexis was born. I’d open myself up for them, or they’d eat me out.”
Kate moans and clutches at Castle’s shoulders, grinding down on his cock until it presses just right. “Fuck, Castle, what I wouldn’t give to see that.”
Castle grabs Kate’s t-shirt and yanks it over her head. He throws it off the bed and returns his hand to her supple breast, pressing the pad of his thumb over her nipple. “I’d be desperate for it,” he whispers. His body is starting to stiffen, lose the fluidity and eagerness he always exemplifies during sex, and Kate knows he’s close. “I’d— fuck,” he gasps and squeezes her breast as he thrusts up into her.
Kate starts riding him with intention, slamming her hips down, down, down, until the pressure in her builds to an impossible climax. Sex with Castle is always good— he was never exaggerating, unfortunately— but this desperate, impulsive fuck, spurred on by thoughts of Castle on his back, open for a thick cock, is great .
An image comes to her mind: Castle, legs wide, cock hard, and her between his hips with a long, thick strap-on hanging between her legs.
With a breathless cry, Kate comes, and she feels Castle freeze under her as the condom fills. She rides him through, dragging out her orgasm as long as she can, before finally pulling off and collapsing onto the bed beside him.
“I love you,” Castle pants and reaches over to take her hand. “If I had known how you felt—“
“Castle,” Kate says and turns her head to look at him, hair a mess and sweat dripping down her spine, “how do you feel about pegging?”