Chapter 1

Castle's at home in his study thinking about Beckett, like he does every night. It's not exactly a hardship.

He's wholly in love with her and it's been killing him to hold back. He's never had to wait before. But he's tired of waiting. And now he's kissed her (and she kissed him back) and he's sure that she's into him. She was really into him. So maybe there's a chance to move forward. He wants her with him. Always. She's going to be his final one. And done.

He thinks that Beckett's hiding from him. All his observations of her tell him that there's another layer to the Beckett onion. Badass Detective Beckett needs unpeeled. Stripped. And he wants to be the one that does it. (In oh so many ways.)

He's always got what he wants, mostly through personality, charm, or physical attractiveness (he's ruggedly handsome, after all, everybody says so) and sometimes the application of money too. When he wants something, people give him it. Beckett's the only one who hasn't just conceded and given in straight away, falling for his wit and charm. (It's why he loves her) But now he's kissed her, and he wants her not just to see the friendly, happy (goofy, go on, think it, Castle) man-child she thinks he is but to show her that he's just as alpha as she is. Or more so.

He hasn't really let her see that side of him. She was surprised when he beat Lockwood to pulp (but Lockwood was going to hurt Beckett, to kill her, and that's not on). She tried to reassure him, explain it away. But it's there, it's part of him. How did she think he got to be as successful as he is? You don't survive the sharks of the publishing industry if you can't hold your own.

It's not as if he hasn't imagined how it would be with her. The thought of cool, calm, controlled Detective Beckett, always in charge, first through the door with her gun out and high heels on, open and needy and definitely not in charge, in his bedroom, is turning him on. And if he's honest, he'd admit that right from the start he's wanted to know if, however much in charge she might be in the precinct, in bed she could be pliant, receptive, and his. That very first case, with her interrogating him, treating him like just another suspect, no respect for his fame, wealth, charm – he went home and dreamed about turning the tables. Imposing his authority rather than being imposed on.

Still, he doesn't want some stupid brainless trophy wife at home (but wife, definitely. Now. Now is good. Even if he's only kissed her once.) He wants the Beckett snap and snark and sparkle, the rolled eyes, the raised eyebrow, the challenge. He wants Detective Beckett all day. It's just that he wants another Beckett all night. Every night. Forever.

He looks back and builds the story, pieces together the evidence, leaning back in his study chair where all his inspiration comes. He needs to mock it up on his story board, but Beckett drops by reasonably frequently and he doesn't like the thought of explaining it. Far better just to show her. Explanations can wait till she's in the right frame of mind. And bed.

Review the chapters. Set out the background.

The first time he saved her life, leaning over her afterward and she felt his mass looming over her, she expected to be kissed, but it wasn't the right time. The flash of realization in her eyes when she thought he'd do something that she wasn't ready for. He felt her shiver when he whispered in her ear. He saw her look up at his mouth, part her lips. If he'd kissed her then…But catching Beckett needs a longer game.

That bondage case, with her little hints of knowledge (and maybe experience). It nearly broke him to hear her joking about flexibility (those photos and she just looked at them and him and the boys and oh so casually told them it was perfectly possible) and discussing different makes of handcuffs and ordering him about. (He'll order her about, yes he will. And she'll like it.)

The first time he pulled her to him and kissed her in a dark alley with a sleazy security guard to get past to save the boys. He pulled her hard against him and took her mouth and owned her just for those minutes. And she liked it. She reacted when he was a little rough, a little forceful. She kissed him back. She won't admit it but he knows she's into him. She knows he's into her.

All the little tells and clues she doesn't know he's noticed (but that's his job, of course he's noticed, he notices everything about her) show him that there's a story here to uncover. But he doesn't think that she's told herself the story yet.

He thinks that maybe she needs a little persuasion, a little pressure. (He really wants to find out if she'll give in if he takes charge) So he's thinking that it's time for her to learn a bit more about him. He's thinking that it's time for him to dominate: a little, and then a little more than that.

Not always. Sometimes he might want her in charge (because that would be fun too). But often enough.

It's time to spin Beckett a bedtime story.