This story is gifted to Kim (kimmiesjoy) for her generous contribution to the ThankYouTerri campaign!

My sincere apologies to Kim and the campaign for the long lead time on this story; it has taken me months to complete but as compensation, I made it extra-long. ;) I hope the result was at least worth the wait!

Just Like That

a/n: Episode insert for 1x01, 'Flowers for Your Grave' - prompt placed at the end so as not to spoil.

Kate: "Why? So I can be one of your conquests?"

Rick: "Or I could be one of yours."

This was a mistake, wasn't it?

A huge, stupid, salacious mistake.

Kate huffed out a frustrated breath, her arm sinking back against her side, fist still balled, just short of knocking when she had chickened out.

Damn it, why couldn't she just... What was she even doing here?

She'd told him no, irrevocably no. She'd known what she was doing. Wasn't going to be one more in his long line of bimbettes that fell to his feet, victims of his charm. She was more than that.

So why couldn't she stop thinking about it? Him. It. She still felt that flutter in her stomach, the racing of her heart when he'd smiled at her, more intrigued and less leering than she'd expected when he'd asked if they could debrief each other. Still smelled the scent of his cologne and the musk of his skin when she'd leaned closer and whispered in his ear, teasing, challenging.

She hadn't been challenged like that in a long time. Maybe never. And it left her... wanting. Her fingertips tingling, her insides coiling with heat that couldn't be tempered, buzzing with restless energy.

He'd been a pain in the ass, arrogant and self-centered but he'd also been... fun. She'd felt alive, vibrant in ways she hadn't felt in quite some time. She'd walked away, her hips swaying – knowing it would keep his eyes glued to her ass, purposely not looking back at him again, keen on keeping the intrigue alive and choosing not to ask herself why.

She didn't need him. Didn't need the complication of him in her life, didn't need to be a notch on anyone's bedpost. But maybe... maybe she wanted it. Him. It.


She just couldn't stop thinking about him. She'd tried to distract herself, went for a sparring session after work where she'd pounded her frustration into the unyielding leather of the punching bag, then took a bath and tried to lose herself in a book that was not written by Richard freaking Castle but her thoughts kept wandering. Her mind conjured up his image, taunted her with his crooked grin and the spark of his blue eyes, the rugged scruff along his jawline and the way he filled out his shirt, the breadth of his shoulders and the bulk of his bicep noticeable through the fabric, and heat had coiled in her midsection, leaving her wanting and restless.

And then she'd found herself slipping into a pair of jeans, a soft vee-neck sweater and four inch high-heeled boots, climbing in the back of a cab still wondering what the hell she was doing. Her courage had carried her into his building and up the elevator all the way to his front door, and then deserted her just as her knuckles were about to make contact with the wood.

Why couldn't she just go for it? There was nothing wrong with having some fun; it's not like she was looking for a relationship, wasn't deluding herself into believing she'd be more than a - hopefully memorable - one-night stand. Why was she depriving herself of the release it would bring? She was a strong, independent woman who knew what she wanted, and right now what she wanted was to conquer the rich, cocky writer who'd been driving her crazy.

The door flew open before her fist ever made contact with the wood. Startled, Kate took a step back, found herself face to face with a redhead wearing an equally surprised expression.

"Detective Beckett! Did Richard get himself in trouble again?" His mother rolled her eyes, accentuated her words with a wave of her hand that spoke to the frequency of her exasperations with her son's exploits while not hiding the underlying affection between them, and Kate found herself warming to Castle's exuberant mother.

"No, not at all." She shook her head. "Just some... follow-up questions, for the paperwork." She was stammering as she made up an excuse, much to her own dismay, realizing the weakness of her explanation. Ten thirty at night wasn't exactly regular police working hours to finish one's paperwork. She didn't know where to look, tried to keep eye contact with his mother, his mother, could practically see the realization as it appeared on the other woman's face.

"Darling, I'm hardly the one to judge." His mother said with a knowing smile, and Kate felt the heat creep into her face, her cheeks probably blooming to a vivid pink. Martha Rodgers extended her arm, waving her inside.

"He's in the study," she pointed through the loft toward a wall of bookshelves, and at last Kate took two steps into Castle's home, her teeth dug into her bottom lip. She stopped, knew she was fidgeting while her abdomen flared with nerves so she kneaded her hands together, squeezing her knuckles. She couldn't help but let her eyes wander across the vast, elegant space but it helped avoid the knowing scrutiny she could feel resting on her when she'd come to seduce this woman's son and they both knew it.

"As for myself," Martha declared, startling Kate from her wandering thoughts and her eyes flew to the older woman. "I'm on my way out and won't be back for hours, and Alexis is asleep upstairs." She winked at Kate, sending a fresh wave of mortified heat to her cheeks, and then in a whirlwind of activity she had grabbed her coat and headed out.

"Don't wait up!" The door fell closed behind her and Kate was left immobile in Castle's loft, with her heart leaping almost out of her chest.

She didn't know how long she was standing there, couldn't seem to get her feet to move forward nor back. God why was this so hard? Hadn't she known what she wanted when she came over here? Why couldn't she just-

This was ridiculous. She huffed at herself, straightened her spine, and then she turned for his office, crossing his loft in long, decisive strides.

To her surprise the door was ajar, and she wondered how it was possible that Castle hadn't heard her arrive, wondered whether he'd been privy to the rather enlightening conversation with his mother but when she snuck inside his office lay mostly dark, illuminated only by the lit-up screen of his laptop. He was sitting back in his office chair, feet propped onto the desk and the laptop perched on his lap, his fingers flying across the keyboard. The pale blue computer lighting drew shadows onto his features, outlined the strength of his jaw and the prominence of his nose. He didn't look up when she snuck inside, didn't even move beyond the hectic activity of his fingertips, entirely focused on the words appearing before him on the screen.

This was what she'd expected to see, she realized, before she'd ever met him, the side she hoped he possessed - that singular focus, the seriousness and depth; why she'd first felt so disappointed in him when he seemed so much more shallow in person. Yet despite everything, the leering jokes and the way he'd tried to push all her buttons, the way he challenged her authority and ignored her decisions, she'd found herself intrigued. There'd just been something about him that didn't add up. She was no stranger to reading people; in fact she was rather good at it - and just like he had analyzed and dug into the depth of her story, she'd seen him too. Seen that the bravado as the thick façade hiding layers to which she wasn't privy.

He was her favorite author, not that he'd ever find that out, but here she was in his office watching him work, and it was the sexiest thing she'd ever seen.

She leaned her back against the door jamb, and watched.

"I feel like Alfred in the bat cave for the first time."

Castle startled at the sudden, unexpected sound in his office, his eyes jumping from his screen toward the doorway. His feet slid off his desk to rest on the floor as he turned toward her voice.

Kate Beckett was the last person he'd have expected to show up at his home, and his heart leapt shockingly hard against his ribcage. He'd hoped he'd see her again, in fact he'd set a few steps in motion to ensure that it would happen, but in no way would he have believed she'd be favorable to or accepting of his shenanigans. She had intrigued him from the first moment he'd laid eyes on her when she'd flashed her badge at him with that spark in her eyes and that smirk to her smile that'd told him in no uncertain terms who was the boss. He'd wanted her, no question, wanted to seduce her but he'd quickly come to realize that there was just something about her that went beyond the fact that she was a cop or that she was devastatingly hot, layers upon layers that he wanted to discover and peel away. Yet she'd shut him down at every turn, so her showing up at his home was pretty much the last thing he would've foreseen. Definitely not how he would've written it. Interesting.

"Batman fan," he replied, his voice sounding a little rough from disuse over the past several hours of writing. "Figures."

"How so?" She's watching him earnestly, her eyes wide, hands pressed against the wood behind her back, almost as if she was physically holding herself in place while her mind tried to get her to bolt back out the door. She was skittish, seemed a little nervous beneath the veneer of bravado, and it piqued his curiosity. She'd been nothing but confident in their interactions, even when he'd tried to throw her off her game. She'd been the one to whisper 'you have no idea' in a voice solely appropriate for the bedroom, the one who'd sauntered away with her hips swaying so purposely, pretty much ensuring he'd needed a cold shower when he got home. The one who had shown up at his home at an hour of the night that would commonly only be described as a booty call.

"Similar origin stories." He knew he had to tread carefully, knew he was toying with a topic that was bound to hurt her or scare her away; he'd noticed the impact of his words when he'd tried to dig deeper into her background. Yet he was confident that he'd been reading her story right all along. "Loss of a loved one leads to a life of fighting crime."

Her gaze fell to the floor, her teeth digging at her bottom lip in a way that he ached to soothe with his tongue but then she seemed to brace herself against it, the depth of her emotions hidden behind a resolute smile that flirted on her lips when she raised her face to him once more. She was haloed by the light filtering from his living room through the gap in the doorway, her face cast in shadows and he wished it was lighter in his office so that he could see every detail of her face, the sharp cut of those cheekbones and the expressive coloring of her eyes.

"Well you're the multimillionaire crime fighter."

He shrugged self-deprecatingly, pointing at his screen. "Only on paper."

"You seemed focused." He wasn't sure if that was surprise he was detecting in her comment, but when he looked at her she was still watching him with this quiet, earnest attention that felt like she was looking right into him, like she understood everything he never said, and it made his blood pump heavily through his veins. It'd been a long time that he'd felt like anybody was really looking at him, truly seeing him.

He slid the laptop onto his desk, rose to his feet and took a step toward her. "I got inspired today."

That surprised her; her eyes widened and even in the dark he could see how hard she swallowed. "Inspired by-?"

He stalked closer, slowly closing some of the distance between them. Her draw was powerful, a magnetism that reeled him in and held him captive, and he couldn't keep himself away. He wanted to unravel her in every sense of the word, layer by layer, learn everything there was to know about Beckett the detective and Kate the woman. She was a mystery he felt like he might never solve, but he sure as hell wanted to try.

"By a tough yet savvy female detective."

"You..." She swallowed, her eyes never leaving his while he closed in on her, her back ramrod straight against the door jamb. "You're writing about me?"

He merely nodded, eradicating the space between them until the gap was mere inches. He could smell the scent of her perfume and the more subtle notes of her shampoo, could feel the energy radiating from her, the strength with which she controlled herself, could almost taste the raw needs layered just beneath.

He wanted her, but more than that, he wanted her to want him.


"Because you're tall."

It made her laugh, just as he had intended, and he wanted to kiss the gorgeous smile that widened her lips. She was vibrant with it, coiled with strength and need, fiery passion that ran just beneath her skin just waiting to be freed, and he thought - hoped he knew where this night was heading but he wanted to savor every moment of this slow, delectable seduction.

"So, Detective-" He leaned in closer, emphasizing the sharp consonants of her profession and enjoying the slight shiver that seemed to run through her at his proximity. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this late-night visit?"

He could practically see how she garnered her self-confidence around her like a cloak, straightened against him, standing almost as tall as he was in those sexy high boots as she leaned closer, her voice low and so sensuous that arrows of heat shot straight into his midsection.

"I thought we might need that debriefing after all."

"Really?" He let his eyes drag across her face, took in the spark in her eyes, the wanton insinuation drawn into her seductive smile. He wanted to touch her, curl his palms around her waist and draw her against him, feel that lithe strength, those soft curves pressed against his body, feel the heat of her skin, soft and naked and sweaty. He could barely suppress a groan at the thought and it took everything in him to not reach for her. Not yet.

"Am I one of your conquests, Kate Beckett?"

Her fingertips caressed his stomach, the heat of her touch burning through his shirt as she drew circles over his abs, slowly let her fingers crawl up to his chest, a drugging sensation that coiled sharp and scorching in his abdomen, sent his blood rushing south.

"Maybe I want to be one of yours?" Her voice was lure and sex and challenge, and his heart slammed against his ribs, his breath heavy as it dragged up from his lungs. He leaned closer, slowly shook his head, the tip of his nose just barely brushing her cheek.

"I don't think so." Her eyes widened; she swallowed hard. He skated his fingers down the curve of her ass, the length of her thigh, felt her muscles flex at his touch.

"You came to seduce me," he challenged, hooking his hand beneath her knee. "To conquer."

Her chest rose and fell rapidly at his words, the consonants sharpened in challenge, and in one fluid motion, he drew her leg high over his hip and pressed into her, pushing her back against the wood of the door jamb. "Isn't that what you want?"

"I just-" She blinked, gasped when he flexed against her, her fingers tightening over his chest, pinpricks of almost pain where her nails dug into his skin through the fabric of his shirt. Her eyes came open once more, her pupils darkened by determination as she hooked her arm over his shoulders and hiked herself closer, her grip strong around his neck.

"I'm so tired of quiet. I want loud," she confessed, her tongue skating seductively across her bottom lip yet the words were raw and vulnerable, admitting a truth he wasn't sure she meant to speak. He swallowed hard, knew in that moment that this woman could never just be a conquest. She was completely getting under his skin with her indomitable strength and that solemn vulnerability she was trying so hard to hide, with all her contradictions. He grabbed one of her hands, pushed her wrist against the door jamb high above her head so that her body was stretched against his, her pert breasts outlined by her thin sweater, nipples so prominent now that he could feel them rubbing against his chest when he pressed himself against her. He leaned in, his mouth so close to her lips that he could feel the rapid flutter of her breath caressing his lips.

"Oh, you'll be loud."

She snuck her other hand down to his pants, suddenly palming him unabashedly, her slim fingers curling around his thick length that was straining against the fabric of his sweatpants, and a surprised moan leapt from his throat, fire licking up his spine.

"Is that another one of those 'large claims' of yours?"

"You have no idea." He groaned, the self-confident assurance weakened by her clever touch. His mouth traveling the sharp line of her jaw, he nipped at her earlobe, then sucked it between his lips.

"Oh yeah?" She was gasping, her fingers never letting up teasing him through his pants while her hips rocked forward, seeking, wanton, and he snuck a hand beneath her sweater, couldn't wait one moment longer to feel her skin. He pressed his palm to the warmth of her stomach, felt her abs ripple beneath his touch.

"Oh yeah."

Her eyes sparkled, all dark challenge and raw desire. "Prove it!"

The moment the words left her mouth his lips were on hers, his fingers gripping the hair at the back of her neck, angling her into the kiss and she was lost.

Completely, utterly lost.

She couldn't help but moan at the first contact of his soft lips against hers and he took advantage of her mouth falling open, his tongue sliding deep inside. She met him feverishly, tongue curling against his, groaning into his open mouth as heat rushed to her head, her limbs, pooled hot and slick in her midsection. Kate freed her wrist from his hold, hooked her arm around his neck instead, drawing herself closer against him, needing to feel the solid width of his body pressed against her. She rocked her hips into his in rhythm with their kiss, felt him straining against the seam of her jeans, hard and hot. Her body felt empty, weeping to be touched and filled.

His hand skated up the planes of her stomach, palming her breast, fingers tweaking her nipple through the soft lace of her bra. The fabric enhanced the scintillating sensation against the sensitive bud and she keened, her teeth sharp against his bottom lip as the rush of arousal rolled like a shockwave through her. It was primal, an exigent demand that felt daring, made her brave. She skated her teeth along the stubble that dotted his jawline, nipped his flesh as she traveled down the side of his neck, savoring the flavor of his skin, the pounding of his pulse beneath her lips, the groans that rumbled from deep within his chest. Her fingers sought low, hooking into the waistband of his pants and boxers, her knuckles stroking his stomach. His skin was warm, his muscles contracting with every subtle caress and she couldn't take it anymore, could not wait one more moment to taste and tease and savor.

She dropped to her knees, tearing his clothing down to his ankles - and wrapped her mouth around him.

"Holy shit!" He cried out, wavered on his feet, his palms slamming flat against the door jamb to hold his own weight and Kate chuckled, felt his muscles tense as the vibrations of her voice rattled through him, proud that she had shocked him practically speechless, loving the rush of power that made her blood pound, the control she had over him after days of his cocky arrogance challenging her authority every step of the way.

He'd dared her to conquer, so conquer she would.

Her hands sliding around his hips, she clamped her fingers into the taut curves of his ass, felt his strong muscles flex and quiver beneath her palms at the ministrations of her mouth while she held him in place. She scratched her nails over sensitive flesh and he hissed, his head dropping, eyes clenched closed and his biceps bulging as he tried to control the instinctive jerk of his body.

Kate ran her tongue along his tender skin, played its tip against him, over and around, his flavor in her mouth - salt and musk and all man heightening her own arousal that clenched and flooded her body. She savored the quiver of his flesh as she widened her lips around him to take him deeper, acknowledging to herself that he hadn't exactly made a baseless claim about his 'largesse', not that she'd ever admit it out loud. He moaned, whimpered, made helpless by her ministrations as she caressed him with the curl of her tongue and the slide of her lips, grazed her teeth against his flesh until his knees buckled, his fingers gripping the short strands of her hair.

"Kate, Kate, Kate-" Her name an invocation on his lips, he drew her away, tugged on her hair until she rose to her feet, coming face to face with the raw, stunned arousal that emphasized his features.

Holding his gaze, she slid the pad of her thumb across the corner of her bottom lip, and suckled his flavor off her fingertip.

He groaned, eyes flaring dark and tempestuous with need and then his mouth was on hers, his tongue delving inside. The kiss was wild, a ravenous claim as he sought her and she opened for him, met every stroke with equal fervor, set aflame by the heat of his mouth, the raw need that burst and bloomed through her like fireworks.

He gripped her thighs and lifted, and she instantly hooked her knees around his hips. Arms drawn tight around his neck she settled against him to the soundtrack of his groans when the rough fabric of her jeans brushed against his sensitized, naked flesh.

"God, you're killing me here, Kate," he groaned, his teeth sharp against her bottom lip before he soothed the sting with his tongue and her thighs quaked, her muscles flexing and tightening around his hips.

"Isn't that what you'd hoped for, hmm?" She skated her lips along the shell of his ear. "A little 'cops gone wild'?

"I was hoping you'd drop your top, too."

Kate loosened her arms from around his neck, held herself up solely with the grip of her thighs around him. Her teeth buried in her bottom lip in that way she knew he found hot, she met his challenge, running her fingers down her sweater. Aware of his eyes traveling the journey with her, she took hold of the hem and slowly drew the cashmere-blend up her torso. The fabric tickled her sensitized skin as she revealed herself inch by inch until she could tug it over her head, fling it to the floor. Holding his gaze, she reached behind herself, unhooked her bra, and peeled the lace off her breasts.

He was watching her, his gaze focused, dark like midnight as he perused the lines of her body before his eyes settled on hers once more. She stared back, their eyes holding while her heart thundered and her blood rushed through her veins, pounding in her ears and lips and fingertips. The electricity almost tangible between them, a live wire sparking with unbridled desire and she clamped her fingers into his shoulders, her voice low with arousal, breathless, wanton.

"Bed. Now."

They didn't make it to the bed.

At least, not right away. He'd stumbled through the doorway, proud of himself for not killing them both as he'd carried her while his pants were still tangled around his ankles, constricting his movements to short, awkward steps while she'd giggled her amusement into the curve of his neck. Her breath was warm against his skin, chased by tender kisses that she peppered to the length of his shoulder, seemingly so at odds with their fiery kisses, her untamed seduction in his office.

"Smooth, Castle," she teased as he slammed the door closed behind them with his heel, so he pinned her between the door and his body, his palms firm against her ass and her legs high, so high around his waist, and closed his mouth over her breast.

"I can do smooth, Beckett," he murmured around the mouthful of delectable flesh, grazing his teeth against her nipple, watching her eyelids flutter and her lips falling open from the corner of his eyes. "Really smooth." He suckled, flattened the hardened bud between his tongue and the roof of his mouth, and she moaned, her nails piercing as she gripped his head to hold him in place. He teased her breast the way she'd teased him, flattening his tongue over her, flicking, circling, nipping before he took her deeper once more, then switched to the other side while she rode his hips, her thigh muscles clenching as she tried to bring him closer between her legs. The sounds that fell from her lips were pure, unbridled lust, sent heated arrows spearing straight in his midsection; he was so on edge, wasn't sure how he'd survive this night.

She undulated against him and he winced at the too-abrasive friction against his length, and those pants really, really had to go. Now. Castle trailed one hand around to her abdomen, raked his nails over her skin just above the waistband of her jeans before he flicked open the button, drew down the zipper.

"Off," he groaned, wedged his fingers between the fabric and her feverish skin until the tip of his middle finger was welcomed by swollen flesh and slick, wet heat. "Off."

Kate jerked in his arms when he'd teased her folds, and then she slowly unhooked her legs from around him, let her feet slide to the floor. Their eyes held as she tugged the jeans down her hips, shimmied out of them until they pooled at her feet, leaving her naked save for the delicate strip of gray lacy panties.

She was gorgeous. He knew he was staring, slack-jawed and robbed of his breath. He'd thought she was beautiful from that very first moment when she flashed her badge at him, but this- The creamy skin and the proud flare of her breasts, endlessly long, graceful legs and the subtle curve of her hips, every inch inviting him to worship at the altar of her skin, find absolution in the secret haven between her thighs and it startled him, the fierce yearning that made his stomach flutter, the sense of something intangible he might never be able to grasp.

And then she stepped out of her pants with those endlessly long, graceful legs and made him forget every coherent thought. She glided right past him, brushing against him on purpose, her hips swaying with every step in that same tantalizing rhythm he'd been privy to earlier tonight, expecting his gaze to just follow her.

It did.

She played her fingers along the waistband of her panties, tugging them a teasing inch lower while she threw a glance over her shoulder, eyebrows raised high at his apparent ineptitude.

"Lose the shirt," she ordered, gave him a pointed look before she ambled toward his bed, alluringly self-possessed and devastatingly sexy, sliding her panties further down her legs with every step until all there was before him was a long line of uninterrupted, delectable skin calling him to her.

She crawled onto his bed, stretched her limbs across the mattress, lying displayed against the canvass of his sheets, beguiling seductress and priceless art piece.

"You coming, Castle?"

Kate Beckett was thoroughly enjoying herself.

So far, the night was more fun than she'd expected. Okay, yes she had hoped it to be enjoyable, why else would she have bypassed her concerns and natural reservations to pay him a 'visit' so late at night. His reputation preceded him, so yes, she had expected he'd know what he was doing, would know how to give her a good time, make it worth their while.

She hadn't expected that it would matter to him. That she would matter to him.

Not like this.

That it would be more to him than the physical act of sex, more than the explosive desire and release between two sexually compatible individuals. That he'd make her feel so wanted, or that he'd make her laugh, or that he'd read her so well to know just the right balance of when to provoke her into action, and when to let her take charge.

She hadn't expected the almost deferential attention he paid her, hadn't expected that she'd feel so liberated.

There was freedom in feeling this uninhibited, a giddy kind of joy that made her feel brave and a little naughty.

She eyed him as he sauntered toward her, flinging his shirt off over his head and finally shaking those damn pants off his ankles as he walked. Slowly, deliberately, she let her eyes roam down the length of his naked body, then up again, watched as he almost faltered in his step at her shameless perusal, his eyes growing impossibly darker, his Adam's apple jumping when he swallowed hard.

He was... delectable. Broad shoulders and thick muscles that bulged in his bicep, flexed in his pecs and his thighs, that taut curve of his ass that she wanted to set her teeth against, and the sharp cut of his jaw, his face more rugged in the shadowed dimness of his bedroom, his eyes deep like midnight as he stared at her, setting her aflame from the inside out.

It was almost too languid, the way she stretched her limbs out against the sheets - as if they had all the time in the world, as if she wasn't shaking with the impatience of it, the clawing pounding jittery need of feeling him on her, inside of her; his weight and the tight stretch of skin over flexed, taut muscle, the wet heat of his mouth and the slick curl of his tongue all over her, the hard pound of him deep, deep inside.

Her body alight with arousal, her heartbeat thrumming through her, encouraging her playful side, she let her knees fall open against the sheets, trailed her index finger up her inner thigh and then through the slick wetness between her legs, unable to suppress the shudder that ran through her when she grazed a fingertip across her swollen clit. His gaze was piercing as he followed her every move, stunned by it, his hardness on proud display, and her inner muscles quivered around the yearning emptiness.

In one fell swoop he was on the bed, on her, his hand wrapping around her wrist and pressing her arm up against the pillow next to her head as his body replaced her seeking fingers between her legs, his hips splaying her thighs wide apart. Her pelvis jerked high off the mattress, seeking more of the hard, heated flesh nudging against her and he groaned at the intimate contact, his eyes closing and his lips falling open in unrestrained pleasure.

Kate wrapped a palm around his neck to tug him closer and kiss him, the other palm cradling his cheek. She took her time with it, nipping at his bottom lip before she suckled it between her lips, curling her tongue around his. Kissing had always ratcheted her arousal several notches higher and this was no exception; her tongue deep inside she explored his mouth, met him stroke for stroke as their hips undulated in a matching rhythm; her belly fluttering, clenching, her skin flushed and tingling all over, desire rippling through her, scorching, all-consuming and then she couldn't stand it one moment longer; she braced, tightened her muscles - and flipped him over.

His eyes still wide with surprise he stared up at her as she trapped his length between his stomach and her sex; hands braced against his ribcage she slid along his tender flesh, up and down and up again, the wetness of her folds embracing him while his eyes rolled back in pleasure.

Castle curled his hands around her hip, gripping tightly, sliding one thumb over her swollen nerves and pressing down, hard. She shuddered, couldn't help it, barely aware that the raw sound had come from her mouth as her muscles clamped in a jolt unexpectedly close to a first orgasm.

"I want to taste you."

Her eyes flew open, startled by the rawness of his voice, the near desperate need to have her, all of her, the plea hidden within the challenge and she found herself surprised at how well she could read him, understand everything he wasn't saying with words.

I'm yours for the taking. So conquer.

She wet her lips, her throat suddenly parched, her leg muscles shaking as she slowly, seductively slid up the length of his torso. The invitation in his eyes followed her every move, his pupils blown with arousal and the no-longer-hidden awe he seemed to have just for her, and her heart was slamming against her ribs, the excitement thrumming rapidly through her blood, pounding in her ears, her skin, and in the swollen lips of her sex.

His gaze never leaving her she rose above him, her thighs bracketing his head as she sank down on his face.

She cried out at the first touch of his tongue against her, couldn't help it. Her thighs quaking, she had to clamp her fingers around the headboard to hold on, to not collapse as her body jolted almost uncontrollably with the fierce electricity of his touch. Meticulous, so very perfect, the way he teased the sensitive bundle of nerves, flicking, circling, grazing, her inner muscles fluttering, and then he sucked her into his mouth and she cried out again, her legs clamping tighter around his ears.

He was feasting on her, took everything she gave, but she had the control, rose and fell as she needed, swiveled her hips so he'd hit just the right spots and she loved it, loved everything about it, his soft lips and the heat of his breath, the vibrations of his voice as he groaned around her flavor, thoroughly enjoying everything he did to her. The hard suction of his mouth, the stubble on his cheeks that rubbed against her inner thighs in sharp contrast to the soft flick of his tongue across her bundle of nerves, over and over and over. She was climbing fast, inexorably, all thought lost to the provocative, devastating attention of his mouth, her muscles clamping, jittering, heat unspooling in her midsection, sweeping through her like a tidal wave, tearing her apart in its wake.

And then he slid two fingers inside, pressed hard against the swollen, sensitized spot and she was gone, gone, gone.

The way she looked splayed across his sheets. The lovely flush across her collarbones, her skin tinged pink with pleasure and the wild sprawl of her hair, tousled maroon spikes that contrasted with the satin cream-color of his pillow, her pink lips open in breathless demand.

He couldn't stop staring at her. His eyes ran the length of her body sprawled out before him, a sensuous feast of porcelain skin and pert pink nipples, the soft slopes of her breasts and the lovely flare of her waist, the dips of her hipbones that fit his thumbs to perfection. He gripped her tighter, controlling her hips as he thrust deeper and she keened, her head rolling back against the pillow and her legs quivering where they lay draped over his thighs, splayed wide where he was kneeling before her, buried within her warmth.

She was breathtaking, a wild creature roaring untamed and free, a goddess splayed across his sheets, her body exposed yet her mind still a mystery, frustratingly unsolvable. For all the tight control onto which she had held all night, she'd now placed herself completely at his mercy, put him in charge of their coupling, of her pleasure.

It felt like a challenge.

He pressed his hips into hers and stilled; working just his muscles he moved within her, winding her up further while he trailed his hands across the smooth skin of her abdomen, up the lithe slope of her sides and the ripples of her ribcage, flirting his nails over the spots that seemed most sensitive, observing closely what made her moan, what made her hiss or quiver or sigh, eager to learn every facet of this fascinating woman.

He'd be the first to admit that he'd had more than his fair share of sexual encounters yet it struck him like lightning that this, right here, might be the sexiest, most amazing thing he'd ever seen or felt, Kate Beckett naked and losing herself in the throes of pleasure. Of all the things he would've hoped from a night like this, he never expected she'd allow herself to be so uninhibited. She'd kept such tight reigns on herself, her laughter measured, even her anger a taut, controlled thing. It had made it entirely too much fun to rile her up, poke and challenge her just to see the sparks fly, to see the real Kate flare to life, and he was delighted to find the woman beyond the rigid constraint and the fascinating contradictions, wild and wanton.

"I'm gonna write about you," he groaned, couldn't stop the thought from flying from his mouth, challenge and plea and promise all rolled into one. Her eyes flew open, wide with surprise and dark with want, her tongue darting out to wet her bottom lip. He palmed both her breasts, rolling her nipples between his fingertips and her back arched high off the mattress, a trail of goosebumps flaring across her skin, making her shiver.

"How smart you are... How good-" He circled her nipples while he thrust, his words turning to moans when her inner muscles fluttered around him and she mewled with bliss. " your job. How strong, compassionate-"

She was writhing beneath him, her thighs clamped around his hips, her strong muscles quivering in her legs, flexing in her stomach, every word of praise ratcheting her higher towards the elusive peak of oblivion.

"Mysterious, devastating, sensual-" He trailed off, coherency lost as his head was swimming with the rigid control he had to exert over his body. She was warm and welcoming, tightening around his length, drawing him deeper, and heat speared through his midsection, unfurling like a wildfire, clawing at him, consuming every thought, any strength he might have left.

He'd seen that fire in her from the moment they met, that vivacious spark that ran just beneath the surface, ready to ignite and flare to life, all-consuming and so very, very hot.


That was it. Her name.

Detective Heat.

Hand bracketing her ribcage he splayed his fingertips along her vertebrae, trailing to the arced dip of her spine; her eyes fluttered open, meeting his, her pupils blown, all color consumed by the darkness of pleasure. Watching her watch him, he brushed his thumb across the peak of her hipbone, the sleek line of her abdomen, and over the slickness of her clit, pressing down hard.

She cried out, a delicious, raw sound, fingers clawing into the sheets and her pelvis jolting into his touch. He circled, circled, circled the swollen nerves, his hips undulating in an increasingly haphazard rhythm.

"Harder." She mewled, her body shifting and quaking against him, her muscles tight so tight around his length and it was all he could do not to lose it right there, to keep his release at bay, hovering just at the edge, blood humming and muscles tight with the strain.

He cradled her hips, the brackets of his palms strong around her hipbones as he thrust inside, deep, hard, rolling his pelvis to draw out the pleasure. He repeated the motion, again, again, faster when she clawed at him, losing himself in the perfect rhythm of their bodies sliding together, the pounding sensation, the quiver of his muscles and the milking warmth of her around him, so tight and perfect.

Her skin flushed, her voice uncontrolled as she keened, lost to the steep cliff of pleasure; he felt her climb, fast now, inexorable- muscles quaking and fingers clawing at the sheets, scrabbling at his knee, tweaking her own breast. Her mouth open, neck arched back and he wanted to put his mouth to the pale column of her throat, taste her pulse point, suckle right where her blood was pounding just beneath her skin.

He doubled his efforts, deep, fast, hard, could barely hold on through the flash flood of sensations washing over him and then she arched high off the bed, every muscle taut as she fell apart, taking him right with her. She cried out, her body quaking, quivering, inner muscles squeezing him and he followed, fell with her through the devastating white-wash of his orgasm; body jerking, his vision whitening out, brain wiped of any coherent thought except he knew, he just knew-

Once would never be enough.

"You wanted to see me, Sir?" Kate tugged at the hem of her vest as she stepped into Montgomery's office, smoothing the lines of her dress shirt over her hips where the phantom touch of his palms lingered even now, hours after she had put her clothes back on and tiptoed from his loft.

She listened as her Captain recounted his call with the Mayor; blamed her brain that'd been perpetually distracted since last night for the fact that she didn't quite put it together until the familiar name fell from Montgomery's lips.

"Rick Castle."

Rapid-fire scenes flashed through her mind just at the mention of his name, the naked length of his body, his large hands exploring, seeking, his soft lips traversing her skin. A flush rose into her cheeks, her heart pounding with the images. Oh god. The things he did to her, the things she did to him…

"Seems he's found the character for his next novel – a tough yet savvy female Detective."

Her stomach clenched at the familiarity of this information, the rawness of his voice still rich in her ear when he'd whispered those desires like promises to her skin, his hands skating across her body, luring her with the perfection of his touch and it'd been thrilling, a turn-on like nothing else - her favorite author and of all people, he'd sought her, wanted to write about her. Wanted her.

"I'm… flattered?"

"Don't be. He says he has to do 'research'."

"Oh no." He couldn't! She hadn't known- This wasn't part of the deal, it was supposed to be a one-time thing, a-


"No way! Sir, he is like a nine-year old on a sugar rush, totally incapable of taking anything seriously."

Even as the words rolled off her tongue she knew they were false; she'd experienced first-hand how seriously he could take things if he truly wanted to, could recall in lucid detail his undivided attention, every moment of his intense focus. A rush of warmth flared through her, flushing her cheeks, unfurling in her midsection; she couldn't focus on much of anything Montgomery spoke with their memorable night together replaying in her mind.

She sighed. "How long, Sir?"

"Well that's up to him." Kate followed Montgomery's gaze and there he was, leaning against the doorjamb like he owned the place, that smug grin that she'd so despised firmly in place; and yet there was knowledge in his eyes now, a depth of understanding she never meant to reveal, visceral and piercing, as if he was looking right into her.

She felt exposed, stripped naked of all her defenses.

She gathered the remaining vestiges of her strength, marched right past him as if she wasn't fazed in the slightest- as if it wasn't a blatant attempt to flee for the safety of the bullpen, not that she'd ever admit that to anyone. She didn't mean to brush against him either, did not at all intend for her arm to graze against his stomach or to feel his abs jumping beneath his shirt at her unexpected touch, but his width filled most of the doorway, leaving her no room, and she was certain he'd done that entirely on purpose.

He snagged a finger at her elbow, tugging her to a halt. Her heart thundered, a swarm of butterflies taking residence in her midsection at his touch, and the specter of every other touch last night.

"You were right," he murmured, mouth brushing close to her ear and his breath hot against her skin. "I had no idea."


Prompt (by an anonymous prompter): After the pilot, Beckett turns up at Castle's door, perhaps he can be her conquest after all.

Written as a gift to Kim ('kimmiesjoy') for her generous contribution to the ThankYouTerri campaign!

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