She has her hand down her jeans. Sprawled on her back on her bed when he calls her.
She contemplates not answering it (for about a second) but she's a little tipsy from wine with Lanie and her hand's down her pants and she does it anyway.
"Beckett".
Her voice is maybe a little breathy but not that bad she doesn't think. She stilled her hand when the phone rang.
"Hey Beckett".
Unconsciously her hand starts moving again the moment he speaks. She was so close before but nothing was working but now his voice...she just needs him to keep talking doesn't matter what he says.
"What's going on Castle?"
She tries to keep her voice modulated because she's not sure what he'd do if he knew (except she'd never hear the end of it).
"Nothing much".
"Castle, you called me!"
She's pretty sure it's the right thing to say, pretty hopeful he won't pick up the tinge of sex in her voice.
It takes everything in her to bite back a moan as she rolls onto her stomach, grinding against her hand and her bed and waiting for Castle.
"I was just wondering what you were doing. I'm bored of writing, I've been doing it all day," he whines at her (and fuck if that doesn't turn her on more).
"And?"
"I thought maybe we could hang out? I haven't seen you in days, Beckett, with no new case and my idiotic deadline. I may be willing to admit that I kind of miss you".
It suddenly feels so good, too good and she can't stop the groan that escapes as the wave of an orgasm washes through her.
She covers her phone with the palm of her hand as she comes. At least having the foresight to try and muffle it. She should really hang up but she can't because Castle just did this to her with his words.
And goddamn it if even in the middle of an orgasm she doesn't want him again.
"Beckett, what's wrong?"
"Stubbed my toe".
He wonders if that's the truth but she does sound weird and before he can think about it more she's talking.
"Come over?"
She doesn't offer any explanation for why she's okay with what he just did...basically inviting himself over.
Normally there are pretenses (a movie night, talking about a case, problems with Alexis) but she doesn't offer any.
He's obviously coming over anyway, "Thirty minutes?"
"Perfect," she exhales.
And there's clearly something wrong with her or at least something different but he's seeing her soon so he'll figure it out later anyway.
She goes to the bathroom first, washes her hands and her face and touches up her make-up. She should probably change but she also knows she'll be in this state again the second she sees him so really why bother.
In her kitchen she's surprised to see how much of the bottle is already gone. They really worked their way through most of it so she corks it and puts it in the cabinet and grabs a new bottle of pinot noir.
She opens the door and grins at him.
He can't help but think how good she looks. Relaxed and casual in tight jeans and a dark purple sweater and no shoes.
But her eyes have a gleam to them he isn't used to and she's looking at him too long (for them).
"Beckett," he asks hesitantly as he closes her door behind him and shrugs out of his jacket, "Have you been drinking?"
"Lanie and I had a little wine, but don't worry, we'll catch you up".
She gestures toward her kitchen and a bottle of red with two glasses.
He presumes this is why she sounded so weird on the phone and at least that's that figured out.
She leans casually against her kitchen counter and refills his glass, her fingers distracting him as she holds it steady.
They're in the middle of an argument about Hitchcock movies of all things but he stops in the middle of a sentence because this is his third glass.
Looking quizzically at her, a smirk on his face, he can't help but interrupt himself.
"Shit Beckett are you trying to get me drunk?"
She raises an eyebrow at him and smiles seductively. Doesn't say a word but just looks at him.
He jokingly grabs the bottle of wine off the counter and takes a swig.
Half an hour later it doesn't seem so funny.
The bottle is mostly empty on the floor by her kitchen counter. They both drifted down there at some point, side by side, backs leaning against the counter and legs outstretched.
He stands and immediately realizes something.
"Shit Kate, I'm drunk".
"Yeah?"
She sounds okay with it, almost pleased.
She stands up gracefully, walks toward him, and all he can wonder is why she doesn't seem drunker.
This isn't the drunkest he's been in his life, early fame and fast millions saw to that, but it's the first time in a long time and the world is shifting around him but Beckett barely sways.
He wonders if he's still awake when she shoves him against the kitchen counter. But then her tongue's in his mouth and she's grinding against his hips and he's just drunk enough that all he can think is this this this.
He feels so good against her and this is what she's wanted for hours (days month years) so she doesn't let his confused grunt distract her though of course if he asks she'll stop. But she doesn't have to because he deepens the kiss and less than a minute after she started this he's fumbling with her jeans.
And all she can think is finally.
He's in her. She's straddling him, pushing his back against the kitchen counter. His strokes are sloppy, no real rhyme or reason.
"This. Feels s'good." She slurs at him and he realizes she's drunk too. Maybe even as drunk as he is.
All he can think is KateKateKate.
Then she's convulsing around him, collapsing against him, burrowing her head in his shoulder nose shoved against his neck.
They're still joined and they just sit there for a minute breathing each other in.
"Bathroom." She says and it's a statement not a question.
And then she's standing sliding off of him grabbing his hand and yanking him upright.
She keeps holding his hand as they stumble toward the bathroom. He doesn't ever want her to let go.
After she's done he pulls her to him again. And takes her slowly against the sink. Easing in and out somehow steadier the second time.
And he wonders if the alcohol wasn't the only thing making him sloppy.