Slowly, she eases her legs down from around his waist, her limp and useless limbs feeling like jelly or spaghetti or something equally boneless under him. She can't remember how to breathe, at first, like a skill she's having to re-learn all over again, but the memory comes back to her when the air fills her lungs and her breathing steadies against Castle's ear.

She's half-convinced she'd seen goddamned spots behind her eyes before; now, she blinks lazily, feeling Castle's pounding heartbeat against her chest, barely managing to lift a hand to stroke over his shoulderblade.

"God, Castle," she sighs, once her brain and mouth renew their connection for her to form words.