Happy Valentine's, reader. Thank you so much for your continued support.
This chapter is rated M, read at your discretion.

They slip into the back of the town car that picks them up, and Rick is sitting too close. Too close.

Not close enough.

His thigh is pressed against hers and his arm falls across her shoulders, and it wouldn't be especially exciting if she wasn't so worked up already.

Fingers skate across her shoulder, down her arm and back up again, lazy in the most calculated way. He knows what he's doing. Two can play that game, she decides, letting her hand fall indecently high on his thigh.

Her nails tease at the inseam of his jeans, her palm hot against the denim, and his fingers still at her arm. She slides her hand down to his knee, gives it a squeeze to get his attention.

Oh, she has it.

"I'm sorry tonight didn't go like you'd planned it," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. Her breath ghosts over his collar, his neck.

He grunts in reply, and her smile can't be stopped. Usually he's all words and she's all action, so when she's instigating the conversation, he's at a loss. She feels his fingers press into the flesh of her arm, gentle pressure that bleeds through even the heavy layer of fabric.

"You were really into the role playing, huh?" She asks, all curiosity. His eyes meet hers and she suspects he's looking for accusation, but he doesn't find any. Won't find any.

His lips find the delicate arch of her cheek bone, and his hand slips from her shoulders to around her waist, so his hand can feel the bare skin of her legs where her coat has hiked up indecently far.

His fingertips are faintly rough against her soft flesh, a promise that makes her knees press together.

"I'm into you," he answers, and the shiver that shoots up her spine has nothing to do with her significant lack of clothes.

A lack of clothes he seems to have just remembered.

A blush licks up her chest, her neck, settles in her cheeks. This man and his words.

Then she feels his nose at her temple, his breath washing over her cheekbones. Her hand clenches around his thigh and it's all she can do to stop herself from groping him in the back of the town car.

"How far?" From home, she means.

"Another ten minutes, at least," he murmurs into her ear, where his teeth graze her earlobe, mindful of her small earring.

She turns her head and is surprised when his lips crash onto hers without preamble. He pulls a moan from her mouth, pressing her against the leather seat. Kate lets herself enjoy the possession in his kiss a moment longer before pushing back until his own shoulders are pinned.

His fingers find the bottom button of the coat, wiggles it free, and pushes his palm up her thigh.

"Rick," she whispers into his mouth. "Stop teasing." Her hand covers his on her leg, stilling him and urging him on simultaneously. She gives in to it, gripping his hand and pulling it higher until it brushes the smooth skin of her hip beneath the coat.

Her eyes dart from her barely-covered self to the front seat of the car, finds the driver oblivious to their indecency.

"Jesus, Kate." His voice is rough, gravel in her ear, and his fingertips encourage a shiver to ripple off her skin. In the space of a moment, the urgency between the two evaporates and leaves only tension to simmer in all the places they touch.

The hand not holding his fingers slides into his hair from his nape, gripping gently, and his mouth moves down the column of her throat. He slows until he stops, resting his forehead on the ridge of her clavicle.

"We need to stop," he murmurs, regret heavy in his voice.

"I love you," the awe in hers makes his lift his head, meet her eyes. Her pupils are saucers, partly arousal and partly due to the dim lighting of the cab, but nevertheless, he reaches up and presses his lips to her own, solid and demanding.

The fervor is back, just like that. But instead of encouraging him further, she pushes his hand from underneath the coat, sits up straighter. "We"ll be home soon," she promises by way of explanation, and he grins.

She doesn't want an audience for this and it makes his heart swell. He's not sure exactly why.

"You started it, babe." He fixes the buttons on her coat, straightening it for her. He feels her fingers in his hair, no longer pulling but combing until she is satisfied.

"Oh yeah?" she asks, feigning innocence. "How's that, babe?"

"You know," he murmurs. They're both behaving now, sitting upright with their sides pressed against one another, their hands to themselves. Mostly. "You know what it does to me when you say that, Kate."

"Say what?" She asks, finding his hand with hers and lacing their fingers together. "I love you?"

Even after all these years, hearing her say it makes him–

Her gaze meets his and despite the dark, despite the black of her eyes he can still see the green sparkle she gets when she's happy.

"Because I love you. I do, I love you I love you I love–" She's cut off by the insistent press of his mouth, his tongue taking all she has to give. They only pull apart to the sound of a light cough.

Oh, they've stopped.

Rick rests his temple against Kate's, both frustrated by the interruption and relieved to be that much closer to a bed.

"We've arrived, Mrs. Castle," Rick repeats into her ear, and even as she slaps his arm in annoyance, he can feel her grin at his cheek. She loves it.

But she wasn't slapping him, was she?

It isn't until he's halfway out of the car until he realizes she was pushing him out. He chuckles as they stumble out of the backseat in a tangle. When they're standing, he uses the hand still wrapped with hers to pull Kate closer until she's tucked right under his arm.

They pass Len, the doorman, offering polite, genuine smiles as the man wishes them a nice evening. As they wait for the elevator, he feels the light touch of her palm at the small of his back, sliding up his spine and around his waist.

He looks down at her to find her hooded eyes on his lips, and his breath hitches. His wife is so beautiful. Before he can say as much, she lifts onto her toes and kisses his mouth lightly. She grips him closer with the arm around his waist, and her head falls to his shoulder.

Her fingers don't cease though, moving up and down his ribs, the light fabric of his dress shirt rippling under her fingernails.

Jesus, where is this elevator?

"Someone's in a hurry," he murmurs. She doesn't look up at him, but let's out a sigh, satisfied by their current closeness.

"I have a really hot valentine and I'm about to get in his pants. Yes, I'm in a hurry," she whispers back.

As if on some cosmic cue, the elevator arrives.

"That's too bad," Castle grins as they board together, the doors closing around them and his lips at the shell of her ear. "I'd rather take my time."

By the time they reach their front door, his shirt is half-unbuttoned and she has a hand in the back of his pants. Her back hits the door and he tries to hold her still while he works the key into the lock, but to no avail. She gives up on groping him, however, and focuses her attention on the bottom buttons of his shirt. Finally, he gets the door open.

She lets out a small squeak when she feels the door give away under her weight.

"Shhhh," Rick hushes her, suddenly conscious of the dark quiet of the loft. Kate slaps a hand over her own mouth, giggling despite herself. Castle pushes her into the door of the coat closet, his mouth hovering over her still-covered one.

She can feel his breath ghosting over her fingers as his nose nudges hers playfully.

"We have to be quiet," he whispers, his words all breath. "The kids are asleep." She answers by planting her mouth at his neck, biting gently, the swipe of her tongue telling him exactly how quiet she plans on being tonight.

"Get in the bedroom," she breathes.

"Not yet." She lets out an involuntary whine when he pulls away, missing the weight of his body. She follows him as he makes his way to the kitchen, crowding at his back.

He stops at the fridge and she takes the opportunity to slip her hands around his waist, finding the button of his jeans.

"What are you looking for?" she asks into his shoulder, the bright light of the fridge washing over both of them. She glances downward to see highlights catching on his chest, his unbuttoned shirt hanging open.

"Kate, I can't think of anything when you're–" Oh, there. She finally gets the button open. She places a kiss to his shoulder, reaches into the fridge door and retrieves the can of whipped cream.

"Got it," she grins. He spins around suddenly, the refrigerator closing silently. He has the coat unbuttoned in a second, his now-cold hands slipping around her waist.

She yelps in surprise at the cold sensation, and his shushing dissolves into their hushed laughter.

"Now get in the bedroom."

When he finally catches up to her, she's lying on her back in the middle of the bed, Lanie's coat open around her. She grins when she sees him, lifts the whipped cream nozzle to her mouth when she's sure she has his attention.

He's on her in a second, crawling up her body until he can lick the confection that's made it to her lips. He's mesmerized by her throat when she swallows. He snaps out of his reverie when he feels her hands on his stomach, fingers skating around his navel, into the light strip of hair that leads to the waistband of his boxers.

"Off, Rick," she demands. "Get naked."

"Mm, bossy tonight," he hums into her mouth, pulling away to shimmy out of his clothes. She helps him along, pulling on the back of his shirt until it's in a heap on the floor.

He pushes her backwards, carefully sliding Lanie's coat from under her in the process. He can't rationalize leaving the bed to hang it up, so he settles for setting it gently on the floor.

"Don't bother, it's got to be dry cleaned anyway."

"Why– oh." She lets out a musical laugh because he blushes, hard. He recovers by settling over her, his chest barely brushing hers.

Her legs drop open for him. "Please, Castle."

He finds her left hand with his, twines their fingers together under the guise of holding her wandering hands still.

Really, he's just a sap.

Just when she opens her mouth to beg again, he slides home.

"Fuck, yes," she gasps instead.

They move together then, her hips rolling to meet his as they build a steady rhythm. He keeps their hands pinned to the pillow beside her head, anchoring her.

When she's thoroughly distracted, he lets her hand go, reaches for the whipped cream.

She bites his bottom lip in surprise when the cold cream pours over the inside of her bicep, only to be replaced with the hot sensation of his mouth.

The next trail of confection starts at the dip between her clavicles and ends at the top of a breast. He takes his time licking up the cream, pulling her nipple into his mouth.

Kate's hand fists in his hair, both holding him to her and pulling him away. He smiles around her. Just as he lifts the can to her other breast, he feels her pushing at his shoulder.

"Roll over," she tells him, looking down at him through her lashes before adding, "babe."

He complies, slipping out of her to shift them so that they lay on their sides, facing one another. She wraps her leg around his hip, pulling him inside in one fluid move.

In the stillness, she relaxes, nuzzling the underside of his jaw, planting little kisses there.

"I love you," he murmurs, lips brushing her cheek. She feels the vibrations where the bridge of her nose kisses his throat. They easily pick up their rhythm once again, their hands free to roam the other's body.

She takes satisfaction in the shiver that wracks him when she pulls her nails along his flanks. "I love you," she replies, fighting to keep her eyes open. "I'm close, I need–"

His hand is there before she can finish her request. "Are you–" he nods.

"Let go, Kate," he whispers, lips hovering above hers. His fingers quicken and she does just that– lets go.

Hours later, they lay in a tangle of sweaty limbs, unwilling to part. Kate is draped over Castle's body, her mouth at his collar bone. "You're amazing," she hums contentedly, relishing the feeling of his solid body beneath her.

"You wore me out, woman," Rick groans, his hand carding through her soft hair.

"Too tired for a shower?" she asks him, blinking slowly. She grins, feels the smile on his own face.

"Never," he swears, like it's a dirty word. She rises, lets him enjoy the view as she pulls him and his heavy limbs to the bathroom.

"Let's go make some real noise," she promises, twisting the water on.

Thank you so much to Emily, my beautiful Valentine and angel incarnate, for the beta and love. This fic wouldn't have ever been written without her.