A/N: Is it morally wrong to post porn on good friday? SORRY JESUS, THIS IS THE ONLY WAY I KNOW HOW TO DEAL WITH MY POST-LIMEY FEELINGS.

He has to be home in twenty minutes.

His tongue is in her mouth and his hand oh his hand, his hand is wedged somewhere between the inseam of her jeans and his thigh, and he's supposed to be home in twenty minutes.

"Castle," she mumbles into his mouth, moans more like and she knows he takes it as encouragement even though she's trying to get him to stop touching her. She pulls her mouth away from him with some difficulty, sucking in a sharp breath as he just wets a path across her jaw and behind her ear instead, breathing as roughly as she is. She shoves his shoulder gently but ends up just rocking against his hand harder and fisting his shirt between her fingers. "Castle, stop, we need to stop."

"I don't want to," he says into her skin, making her throat bob. His palm presses harder against her zipper and she's grinding down again because he feels so good.

"Your mom," she breathes, trying to remind him why they shouldn't have even started this in the first place. It's all so new though, and they're having more than a little bit of trouble keeping their hands to themselves. "Alexis," she gasps. "Her play."

He groans distastefully at the sound of his daughter's name on her lips when they're in the middle of this. "She'll forgive me," he breathes, using his tongue to try and coax her into forgetting why they really, really don't have time for this. His hand doesn't stop between her legs though and she's all but riding it at this point.

Beckett lets out a noise that sounds suspiciously like a needy whine and she can feel the reaction it pulls from him because this is really as carried away as they've let themselves get so far and all of this is so new. She's gasping more than speaking as she all but begs him. "Castle please, you need to move your hand or I'm not going to be able to stop."

He groans loudly into her ear and then presses his forehead to hers for just a moment more, watches her eyes as he works her, sets her on fire, undoes her, and then he's sliding his hand away and she has to clench every muscle in her body to stop from following it with her hips.

He snatches one last kiss from her lips and then he's helping her slide her leg off of his lap and back onto the couch, separating their bodies for the first time since she tossed away the files they had been pouring over and climbed on top of him. She flops backward onto the cushion with a dramatic release of air, throwing a forearm over her eyes because she can't bear to look at him when he's all kissed like that. She hears him run a hand through his hair and sigh, and she presses her thighs together without thinking about it.

She hears him groan. "Don't do that." His fingers are on her knees then and smoothing down her thighs and she has to physically slap them away because isn't this what got them in this position in the first place?

"You need to stop touching me," she croaks out, kicking him a little bit in the side with the ball of her foot.

"You're sitting next to me, pressing your thighs together, god I don't want to do anything but touch you."

She scoots farther away from him on her back, using her feet to slide herself across the couch. "Go Castle." She peeks at him from under her arm, watches him take one last look at her, one last entire body sweep with his eyes like he's trying to memorize her and then he abruptly stands, shuffling a little uncomfortably in front of her. "Hold your coat in front of your pants," she gestures weakly, eying him with a look she's trying so hard to hold back. She covers her face again instead.

"I'll call you," he says, backing out of her living room and toward the door, she can hear him getting farther away, tries not to press her thighs together again.

"Bye Castle." What she wants to say is I hate your kid but she refrains, listens to her door click shut, counts to twenty to make sure he's really gone. Her arm falls away from her face, fisting at her side for a moment, and then she's swearing a fuck it into her empty living room and sliding her palm down her own stomach, releasing the button on her jeans with a practiced flick of her wrist. Her zipper feels so warm against her fingers as she drags it down, making just enough room to slide her hand between her own skin and the layer of fabric beneath the denim, straight for the place Castle's palm had just been occupying. She bites her lip at how wet she is, almost surprised at how intensely she reacts to him in the flesh. It's not the first time she's thought of him while she does this, not even the tenth or the twentieth, but it's the first time since they started starting and it's all so much more intense then she could have even imagined it would be.

She closes her eyes again, trying to pretend that her fingers are really his, that he didn't have to leave and he pressed her down on the couch and she let him slide his hand into her pants. Her slippery fingers work her up pretty quickly, she was already so close to begin with, but then her phone is buzzing in her back pocket and the familiar notes of his ringtone muffle into the room around her. She thinks about not answering for a half a second before she decides that hearing his voice is exactly what she needs right now. Her brain isn't exactly the clearest.

"Are you even out of my building?" she asks, going for a steady voice but epically failing as the high pitched question spills from her lips.

"In the elevator, why is your voice so weird?"

She bites back a groan at the sound of him, drags a finger up and around. He hears her.

"Beckett," he breathes, voice barely registering and she knows he has worked out exactly why her voice sounds the way it does.

She plays dumb though. "Yeah?" breathier this time.

He swallows thickly over the line. "Where are your hands right now?"

"Somewhere your hands are not."

"Are you kidding – are you serious right now." He's basically swearing every word he speaks, making her bite her lip because he's definitely in public and they're kind of having phone sex and she never wants him to stop talking.

She takes a breath, holds it, decides to go all in. Lust is clouding her brain, making her brave. "My fingers don't feel as good as yours," she confesses.

She hears a car honk from wherever he is. "I'm turning around."

"No, no." Don't tease me. "Just, talk to me Castle."

"Talk to you? God Beckett – " he pauses for a moment and she hears a car door slam shut and him give his address to a driver. "I'm in a cab, what do you want me to say?" She can tell he's trying to whisper, but there's nowhere for him to hide to do this with her.

"I don't care, I don't care Castle, just don't stop talking, please." She knows she sounds desperate, she is desperate, circling maddeningly as the denim of her jeans burns her knuckles and the mere sound of him burns her insides.

She can practically hear him thinking over the phone, her frantic fingers aching for his voice, his words, him. And then he says "Okay, okay," and she holds her breath because words are his trade and he always spins them perfectly just for her. "You have the right to remain silent," he stage whispers into the phone, muffled but loud enough for her to hear perfectly clearly.

"Oh my god Castle, are you reading me my Miranda rights?" Her hips arch up off the couch just a little bit at his tone, he's trying to sound commanding and she can't decide if she wants to laugh in his face or beg him to keep going.

"What am I supposed to say to you in a cab?" he's getting huffy and god she just wants to finish.

"Just, nevermind just keep going, don't stop talking." She closes her eyes as he starts again at the beginning, reciting the words she knows like the back of her hand and fuck if it doesn't completely do it for her. She's gone before he can even finish it.

He's quiet on the other side of the phone as she groans her way through the arch in her hips, being louder than she might be if she were alone, offering herself up for him if he wants her. Giving him something to think about while he's sitting in an auditorium full of high schoolers and uppity parents later on.

"Done?" he asks smugly after she quiets, sliding her sticky hand back out from between her legs.

"For now."

"You are such a tease." She smiles, flexing her fingers.

"Castle?"

"Yeah?" He's hanging on her every word.

"If you ever tell anyone about this, I will kill you."

"You mean that I just got you off by reading you your rights, detective?" She closes her eyes and cringes because his cab driver definitely heard that.

"Don't get cocky."

"How about you return the favor, and then we can both never tell?"

She pretends to think it over, making him wait, imagines him hunched over in the back of a cab, his blood hot for her. "Call me when you're done with the play," she says and then hangs up on him.

She's never going to be able to read someone their rights in his presence ever again.