One of the sexiest moments in season 1. Rarrrrrrrrr.

Thanks to the amazing Sparklemouse for editing!

Fuck Me Castle: 1x6, Always Buy Retail

You know exactly what I want, don't you?

"I definitely saved your life. And you know what that means, don't you? It means you owe me."

"Owe you what?"

"Whatever I want." Her face gets hot. She can't stop staring at his mouth. "And you know exactly what I want, don't you?"

Oh yeah. She knows what he's wanted since they met. And she's telling herself she doesn't want it.

"You know what I really, really want you to do…"

He leans in, all warm and good-smelling and dammit, all she can think about is a very particular thing she could do to him, something that might actually make him shut up for once -

"I'll pick you up at eight."

He stalks away before she realizes what he just said.

"Wait – Castle – is this – "

A date?

The one thing he wants is a date?

Miraculously, she gets home in enough time to change – Castle texted Got a table at Rossignol. Wear something nice – and throws open her closet, desperate to find something that's appropriate for Rossignol. Nope. Nothing. Rossignol isn't the kind of place she goes.

Like any responsible cop, she calls for backup.

It's 7:39 when Lanie finally gets there, smirking. "You're dating Writerboy and you need a dress. Something easy to get out of, right?"

"Shut up."

Lanie brought good options, in spite of all her comments about room to get his hands in. Kate tries to grab a fairly tame blue dress, but Lanie yanks it back and shoves something rich, silky and gleaming emerald into her hands. "No. No little nun outfits for you. Not when you're going out with Castle. I shouldn't have even brought that. You try this."

Lanie's right, of course. Kate slips the green dress on and Lanie produces a slim silver belt and clasps it neatly around her waist, somewhat mitigating the less-than-perfect fit.

"Pretty good, considering this dress was made for someone who has boobs," Lanie murmurs.

Kate glares at her, but takes a look in the mirror, and whoa. "Lanie. It's – it's definitely not me."

"Exactly." Lanie grins over her shoulder. "You'll get there."

"But it's so short. It's too short."

"Not even. You're just taller than I am. And you have amazing legs." Lanie pats her shoulder affectionately. "Relax. I wouldn't let you go out looking bad, Kate."

Kate snags a pair of strappy black shoes from the floor of her closet. At least she has these.

"Okay. You look great. Anything else I can help with? Hair? Makeup?" Lanie grins. "Condoms? You know what happens when a man loves a woman very much, right? He gets really 'happy' down in his –"

"Lanie, shut up."

Castle shows up just minutes after Lanie leaves, and she's glad they didn't run into each other. Lanie would've given her hell for it. Because Castle looks good. He's in dark suit, pinstriped, with a rich, deep violet shirt she'd never have expected on him, the top few buttons undone. Just. Okay. Well.

Does he know that purple's her favorite color?


"Detective." His eyes flick over her appreciatively, and he hands her a long-stemmed red rose. Of course. "You look gorgeous."

Her cheeks get hot. This dress is too short. "Uh. Thank you."

He takes her hand as she gets into the backseat of a towncar – classic, comfortable, spacious without being over the top – before sliding in himself, settling close enough that she gets a long whiff of the rich musk of his cologne. It's dizzying.

The driver eases into nighttime traffic and the car glides smoothly through Manhattan. Kate tugs her skirt down her thighs just a bit before she finally asks him. "Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?"

"All of it. This. Dinner. Tonight." She shrugs. "This was your big plan? A dangerous shootout, you save my life, and all you want is dinner?"

Castle opens his mouth for a moment, but - stops himself. Whatever he was going to say, he thinks better of it. She stares. Since when does Rick Castle, the charming, suave asshole, censor himself?

He finally gives a wry smile. "You wouldn't go out with me any other way."

She doesn't know how to answer that.

Rossignol is bustling when they get there. Castle settles one hand on the small of her back as he speaks to the maître d', who smiles and leads them to a table near a corner, tucked back by windows with a lovely long view of the skyline.

And after all the smarm and leering and suggestive remarks, she's shocked to find, Castle's the perfect gentleman. He pulls out her chair for her. He consults her opinion when the waiter comes to ask for their wine selection.

The young waiter nods and leaves, and she sits back in her chair, eyeing Castle across the table. He smiles at her. "You know this isn't a trick, right? It's just dinner."


"For what it's worth - you really do look lovely this evening."

This dress probably shows stunning cleavage on Lanie; on Kate, it hangs. It's more artsy than sexy. But Castle's eyes are warm, his voice sincere in a way she hasn't heard before. So...Castle can do real, then. Wow.

Over their entrées, he asks her about traveling. She finds herself telling him about studying in Kiev. About long weekends in Crimea, swimming in the Black Sea; about the food and the nightlife and the adorable old Hungarian woman who lived down the hall and used to bring them pogácsa. The way she used to just walk and walk and walk because the city was fascinating.

She stops, her fork poised over her sole, when she realizes he's just staring at her, an unreadable look on his face. "What?" She kept telling herself she hated him. She hates him. She does. Doesn't she?

He shrugs. "You make it sound amazing. I've never been to Kiev."

"It's beautiful." She hadn't realized she'd gotten so carried away.

"Maybe I'll have to go." He takes a sip of wine. "I might drag you with me, though. I'll need a guide."

"There are actual Ukrainian guides."

"I'm sure. But I doubt any of them are as charming as you."

She flushes hotly, hiding her face behind her wineglass. Because if this is what he's really like? She's not entirely sure she'd say no.

She's not really inclined to get dessert, but Castle assures her the chocolate tart is worth it. It's only mildly alarming that he's picked up on her sweet tooth. The wine is buzzing pleasantly in her veins, warm and syrupy and loose and she can't stop smiling.

He tells the waiter they're going to share dessert, and she can tell he's pronouncing tart au chocolat in his best French accent to impress her. The waiter gets a droll little grin, but just nods. "Of course, sir. Excellent choice. Will that be á la mode, sir?"

The young man walks off still grinning, and Kate's fidgeting in her seat when suddenly she flinches as she feels something brush her foot. Her head snaps up, and she finds Castle staring at her, his eyes deep and purposeful. Her whole body goes hot. She knows what he's thinking.

Before she can talk herself out of it, she slips off her right shoe, stretches, and drags her bare foot over the inside of his ankle.

She watches in satisfaction as he starts, his eyes darkening. He wasn't expecting that. He's spent all this time thinking he's in charge. Ever since he growled I'd be happy to let you spank me. It's exhilarating, seeing the shock mingled with blatant arousal on his face.

She's got power over him.

The tart is unbelievable. Flaky pastry filled with creamy chocolate, still hot, with rich vanilla ice cream melting over it.

"Okay, I admit it. You were right about this."


She rolls her eyes, but it's a concession she doesn't mind making.

Her spoon clips the edge of his by accident, and she starts, looking up to find him staring at her chest before his eyes meet hers guiltily. Oh. She was leaning over to reach the food, and the dress - well, it still doesn't quite fit, and he was getting a sweeping view.

"Enjoying the food, Castle?"

"So much."

He murmurs it in a low, husky voice, a little growly, a lot intimate, and it sends heat through her bloodstream.

She sets her spoon down when they finish, and she's about to lean back in her seat when Castle suddenly reaches for her face. She freezes, her pulse pounding in her ears. He's not - is he -

He runs his thumb over her chin, sweeping slowly, grazing the corner of her mouth. She catches her breath.


She understands what he's saying but she's thinking more creatively right now. Before he can pull away, she flicks her tongue over his thumb, licking the chocolate off. His eyes go wide as she sucks on his skin, swirling her tongue over the tip of his thumb before letting him go.

This isn't the way he's looked at her before.

He's looking at her like he wants to take his time.

The driver pulls up and gets the door for them. "Where to now, Mr. Castle? The world is your oyster."

Castle hesitates, glancing back at Kate, a question in his eyes.

She bites her lip, watching as his eyes focus sharply on her mouth. He seems to like it when she does that.

She stretches up on her toes, letting her body just barely brush against his, and leans in to whisper into his ear.

"Let's go to my place."

He doesn't slam the emergency stop button, rip their clothes off and shove her up against the elevator wall.

He walks into the elevator behind her, watches as she presses the button, and as the doors slide closed, he asks her how she liked Rossignol.

"It was wonderful."

"I'm glad you liked it." He tucks his hands into his pockets, and she's having a lot of trouble seeing the brash public image of Castle in this pleasant, attentive man from tonight. Public Castle makes her want to slap him. This Castle is so unbearably attractive she's wondering how long she has to keep her hands off him. "Would I be presumptuous if I wanted to take you there again sometime?"

Asking if she wants to do this again.

Kate doesn't even want to waste time talking now.

She kisses him delicately, softly, the faintest brush of lips. His hands immediately come to cradle her face, his teeth nipping lightly at her lower lip. She clutches the lapels of his jacket, curling her fingers in the fabric, and it takes a second for her to realize the elevator doors have opened.

"You're a good kisser," he murmurs into her mouth, following obediently as she tugs his hand and leads him down the hall. "I like kissing you. Can we do more of it? Please?"

"What, you thought I invited you in for coffee?" Her lips quirk up. "Keep up, Castle."

Kate holds out until they get inside her apartment. She twists the lock and the suddenly Castle's taking her hand, pulling her forward, into the line of his body.

She can taste chocolate on his tongue, along with the richness of the wine from dinner, and it's all mixed with him and it's taste and scent and the material of his suit and the low grumble that vibrates his chest when she pulls away from his mouth and catches his earlobe between her teeth. "Mmmm. Beck- oh, Kate -"

She threads two fingers through his belt loop and tugs, pulling him with her down the hall to her bedroom.

By the time they're in the door, she's managed to get his jacket off. It hits the floor as she tries to undo the buttons of his shirt, though he keeps sliding his hands up under her skirt and kissing her and she shudders, arching against him.

"Mmm." he grins into her lips. "Impatient. I like it."

She lets out a noise of frustration, wrestling with the buttons that finally start to give way, but he's obviously not waiting.

He tugs at her belt, swearing at the buckle before he finally manages to get it undone, and the dress comes loose, hanging off her body, the chest gaping awkwardly. She sees him eyeing it, curious, and her face gets hot. It looks stupid. Damn it.

"It's - not mine." She looks away, embarrassed, plucking at the fabric uncomfortably. "I didn't really have anything. It's Lanie's."

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize. I didn't mean to - " he sighs, running his hand over the line of her back. "It didn't occur to me you wouldn't - "

"Shhh." She presses a soft kiss to his mouth, plants her hands on his chest and shoves until he stumbles back onto her bed, eyeing her with incredulous delight.

"I didn't even realize the dress wasn't -"

Does he ever shut up?

"It's okay," she whispers into his mouth, pushing him back down on her pillows and straddling his hips. "It's not a problem right now."

"You're right. I like this a lot b- oh fuck -"

His hips buck into her sharply as she grinds down on him, and he groans. She takes the opportunity to pull her dress off and drop it to the floor, crawling back over him in just her underwear. Thank God Lanie helped her get dressed. Such wise advice. She was going to wear cotton at first.

Lanie, what does it matter? I'm not going to sleep with him.

But don't you at least want the option?

And from the dilation of his pupils, the hungry, dazed look on his face as he reaches for her, black lace was the right choice.

Before she realizes what he's doing, Castle gets a hand on her waist and smoothly flips them over, pinning her to the bed under the weight of his body. She squirms against him, gasping as he slips her bra off and sucks one of her nipples into his mouth.

Castle hooks his fingers in the waistband of her panties and drags them down her legs slowly, so achingly slow, the lace scratchy against her skin, and she's already so wet and flushed and he's still wearing so many clothes -

"You're gorgeous," he whispers into her skin, kissing the smooth skin of her calf, turning her leg to slip his tongue over the back of her knee and she shivers. He kisses the crease of her thigh, laves his tongue over the smooth plane of her stomach, worries her collarbone gently with his teeth. It's dizzying, the heavy, solid weight of his body, the firm, hot bulge pressing in the wetness between her legs, the heavy warmth of his tongue on her throat, and it's sensory overload. It's too much.

She grits her teeth and hooks her knee around his leg and pushes, flipping him onto his back again.

"I want to be on top."

His eyes go wide, but she doesn't wait for him. She deftly unbuckles his belt, tugging his pants down and slipping her hand inside his boxers. He's hot and hard and thick in her hand, and as she slowly strokes the length of him his eyes roll back, a low grunt escaping him.

She deftly rids him of his pants and finally he's naked, and her mouth goes dry. Fuck. Fuck. He wasn't joking. He's big.

The ache between her legs is unbearable, and he looks like he's about to burst. She finally straddles his hips, flicking her thumbs lightly over the hollows above his hipbones, and slowly lowers herself onto him.

Kate lets out a choking cry as he presses inside her, inch by torturous inch. It's...been a while. He's thick, solid, stretching her, filling her, and his fingers are clenched around her thighs as she sucks in a shaky breath and rolls her hips.

The movement draws a long moan from both of them, and Kate groans, trying to collect herself. It's too much, too hot, too fast, too -

Castle suddenly pushes himself up on one arm, tangling his free hand in her hair, kissing her hard and fierce as he pushes his hips up into her. She rolls her body against his, sucking on his tongue, and she rides him, faster and faster and harder until her whole body seizes up in blissful, uncontrollable release.

She wakes up before dawn to find his lips feathering over her shoulder and his hand sliding between her legs.

"Good morning," he husks into her skin. She tries to respond but his fingers curl and she sucks in a sharp gasp, clutching at the sheets

By the time she slumps back again, sweaty and limp and exhausted, he's regained a self-satisfied smirk she's seen on him plenty of times. But as he kisses her mouth slowly, thoroughly, she really doesn't mind it so much now.

She dozes off afterwards, and wakes again to Castle snoring lightly beside her, sun streaming through the curtains, and her phone buzzing.

There's a text from Lanie.

I really hope that dress ended up on the floor last night.

Kate grins and bites her lip.

Sorry if it's a little wrinkled.