Very mature content ahead. Don't read it if you don't like it. Or if you're not old enough.
Kate Beckett likes to think that playing poker is similar to interrogating a suspect. All she needs to win is one tell, one split second of aberration, and it's all over. She locks in on the irregularity, compares its level to what's in her hand, and then she chooses – in or out?
She knows she's formidable in the box. At the poker table, she prides herself on being downright terrifying.
They try, of course. The boys and her boss and her boyfriend. They try to keep their cards off of their faces, try to keep their tells buried under the surface. But Kate's too good for them.
Esposito locks his jaw every time he gets a hand worth nothing, which includes the hand they're playing now. When he has something, he swallows and glances up at her. She's always watching.
When his hand is shit, Ryan's nostrils flare the same way they do when he's angry. Kate told him once that he blinks a lot when he has a good hand. She spent the next three weeks laughing every time he got a good hand because he tried so hard not to blink his eyes watered.
Montgomery is better than the boys. Nothing ever shows on his face. His tell is the way he raises. If he has something, he slides his chips in really slow, like he wants everyone to know he's raising. If he has nothing, he slides his chips in so quick you miss it if you aren't paying attention.
And then there's Rick. He's very, very good. She's better, of course. Most of the time anyway. Weekly poker nights usually end up being a showdown between them, and last week Rick somehow beat one of the best hands she's ever been dealt. Kate's determined not to lose this week, and everything is riding on this hand.
When Rick deals the first card, Kate crosses one leg over the other under the table. She flexes her foot, which is clad in just a sock since they're at Rick's place, and her toe comes into contact with Rick's calf. She doesn't raise her eyes from her cards, but he does. She traces a little higher up his leg with her toe as Esposito decides not to fold. Ryan checks next, then Montgomery, then Kate herself.
Rick deals the next card and Kate's foot moves higher, up to his inner thigh. He goes stock still, staring down at his cards, and Kate lets herself glance at him. He's clenching his jaw almost as badly as Esposito. Montgomery is agonizing over whether or not to fold after Esposito and Ryan do, and Kate slides her foot all the way forward and hits home.
A moan turns into a cough, and Rick shoots her a look from over his cards. Montgomery folds, and Kate smirks.
"All in."
She slides all of her chips into the pot, and as her body leans forward her foot presses into him. She looks at him. "You're up, Ricky."
She says the words slowly, biting her lip after the pet name. Rick swallows. More like gulps. He glances down at his cards.
"How is it always them two left?" Esposito grumbles.
"Rigged," Ryan mutters back. "We gotta stop having poker nights here."
"Rick buys more alcohol than you two do," Kate points out. "That means we play longer."
Kate watches as Rick's eyes flutter closed. God, he's easy. Get his mind in the right place, and everything turns into an innuendo.
"So?" she prompts the writer. She rubs him gently and he twitches. "You want to be all in or not, Castle?"
"Are you trying to kill me?" he mutters in return.
"You've got plenty of cash, bro," Esposito chuckles.
"Yeah, seriously," Ryan adds.
Kate grins. She pushes against Rick again. "Just making it interesting," she murmurs. She reaches for her beer and closes her mouth around the bottle, taking a long swallow but holding his eyes the whole time.
"Jesus," he says. "All in."
Kate shakes her head and clicks her tongue. She flips her cards over for the table to see, and Ryan and Esposito howl.
"Beckett, where'd you learn to play poker?" Montgomery wonders from next to her.
Kate doesn't answer. "Castle?"
Rick tosses his cards at her. "Nicely played, Detective. The pot is yours."
Kate flips his cards to see he has nothing, and then looks up at him and runs her foot over his inner thigh again before going back home. "Well, there are better things than money, right?" she says, throwing his words from last week back at him.
He nods. "Much better things."
The twinge in her abdomen catches her off guard and sends a wave of heat over her. She looks at Ryan, Esposito, and Montgomery. "Maybe next week boys."
They all grumble in response and stand. They're gone in five minutes; Kate shows them out because she knows that Rick probably won't want to get up. She closes the door behind her and turns back to the poker table, where Rick is still seated. He's smirking at her.
"You're unbelievable."
Kate smiles and makes her way toward him. "Sometimes I even amaze myself."
"You cheated. "
"Did not."
She walks around the poker table and stops next to him. She leans forward and kisses him, her hands briefly on either side of his face before she slides them down to the buttons on his shirt.
"You're going to pay for that, Kate," he says against her lips.
She grins. "Promise?"
He stands up, their mouths still joined. She's halfway through the buttons on his shirt when his hands cover hers, his fingers curling around hers. His hands are warm. He kisses the corner of her mouth, trailing along her jaw to her ear while he spins her slowly so that her back is to the poker table.
"You know why I bought this table?" he murmurs in her ear.
She tugs, trying to free her hands, but he tightens his grasp. "Why?" she asks, a quiet laugh filtering unbidden into her voice.
"Steel reinforced legs," he answers before pulling her earlobe into his mouth. She sighs, her eyes fluttering closed. He traces his tongue along her ear.
"So, um…" she exhales slowly, biting her lip briefly. "So you can do what, exactly?"
He leans his body into hers, and she feels the poker table connect with the backs of her thighs. In the next instant he lifts her up and sets her on the edge. He puts her hands down on either side of her, curling her fingers around the edge of the table. "Those stay there," he orders quietly.
She arches an eyebrow. "Why?"
He grins. "Well you asked me what I'd do." He undoes the buckle of her belt, and Kate feels a twinge of heat. She lifts her hips and watches as he pulls her pants off, pausing for her socks, too. When he looks up at her, she smirks.
"Forgetting something?"
He grins. "No."
He tugs on her hips, bringing her to the very edge of the table. He pushes gently on her shoulders and she follows his lead, lying back on the table. When her shoulder blades hit the table she lifts her hips so he can pull her thong (she wore it on purpose—somehow she knew this was how the night would end) down over her ass before she lowers herself back onto the table. She's still smirking, opening her mouth to make a smart-ass comment, but it dies on her lips when he lowers his head and takes the top lace edge of her thong into his mouth and starts to tug it down her legs.
She closes her eyes and inhales through her nose. He brushes his fingers over her ankles as he pulls the thong off, and when his hands smooth upward and push her legs open, she barely stifles a moan. When she feels his mouth on the inside of her left thigh above her knee, she doesn't bother stifling the next one.
She feels his smile on her skin. "You know what?" he murmurs, trailing his lips upward, closer to where she wants him.
"What?" she whispers, and then chokes on her breath when he reaches the crease of her thigh.
"That night you came over to play poker when we first started working together, I thought about this."
She tightens her hold on the edge of the table. "You were thinking about me half naked on your poker table?"
"I was thinking of how you'd taste," he whispers, and then his tongue rushes over her in one slick, glorious slide.
"Oh God," she moans, arching her back.
She knows he's smiling. She can't see him, but damn it he is. She knows him too well.
"What were you thinking about?" he asks.
She squirms on the table, because she wants his tongue on her again and it isn't, he's just fucking breathing on her and that makes her all kinds of wet and eager.
"Probably poker," she says impatiently, draping her legs over his shoulders. He must be on his knees. "Rick—"
"C'mon Katie," he cajoles. "You weren't thinking about my mouth on you?" He punctuates his thought with another slow slide of his tongue over her.
"I am now," she hisses, pulling on his shoulders with her legs in the hope he'll get the hint.
When he laughs quietly she knows he's gotten it, he just doesn't want to give her what she wants yet. "I love you impatient," he says into her inner thigh, the vibration of his voice racing through her to her core.
"Rick," she calls, trying to use her detective voice. It comes out like a needy whine. "Please."
He closes his lips around her clit and sucks on it briefly, and she shoots off the table into a violent arch, a deep moan tumbling out of her mouth.
"Please what?" he asks.
"Please," she says again, holding the table edge so tightly she thinks it might crumble beneath her hands. "Don't tease me."
He sucks again and she moans. "Don't like to be teased, huh?"
"Damn it, Rick. This isn't fair."
"Fair," he repeats. "Mm, no I suppose it's not."
And then he pushes his tongue inside of her and she forgets to breathe for a second, her back frozen in an arch and another moan caught in her throat. He's out of her too soon, and she sinks back onto the table with a frustrated growl.
"More fair than doing this to you in front of your colleagues, I think."
She picks her head up off the table and glares at him. "You're mad you lost."
He grins at her. She doesn't see his hands move but she feels his fingers sliding into her, curling up to rub the spot he knows so well (damn him) and her head falls back on the table.
"This doesn't feel like losing to me. Does it feel like losing to you?"
He brushes his tongue over her clit and she writhes on the table in response.
"Kate," he calls. He pulls his fingers out of her.
"I hate you," she answers, picking up her head. He ducks his head down but she ignores that because she wants him to know he's pushing his luck. "You—oh fuck."
His fingers inside of her and his mouth on her clit is more than she can process at once and her mind goes blissfully blank, capable only of registering certain things: the feel of the table under her bare ass; the tight coiling deep in her belly; the sound of ragged breathing which she doesn't recognize as her own right away, intermixed with a voice that sounds like hers saying things like God yes and don't stop; the table gripped tightly in her hands, holding her together…and then she breaks and comes, arching hard, moaning his name.
She doesn't even get a chance to catch her breath. She's still riding out the spasms, his name fresh off her tongue, when he suddenly bends over her. He has the buttons undone and her shirt thrown open in record time. He undoes the front clasp of her bra with a flick of his hand and then has one breast in his mouth and the other in his hand. She arches again, her hands reaching up to his shoulders blindly. He sucks on her nipple hard and a mixed wave of pain and pleasure washes over her.
"God," she breathes, digging her nails into his skin.
"Christ, you're hot," he murmurs into her chest.
"Rick, I want—"
He silences her with a kiss, his tongue slipping through her lips, and she tastes herself. He breaks away from her but she follows him, sitting up on the edge of the table. She rips his shirt open and then moves immediately to his belt, closing her eyes for a second as he sucks on the pulse point beneath her ear.
"If you give me a hickey, I swear to God—"
"No hickeys," he murmurs into her neck.
She pushes his pants down, and as soon as they're off he pushes her backward onto the table. She scoots back, watching him crawl up on top of her, a predatory smile curving over his lips.
"There's poker chips beneath you."
She shakes her head impatiently and wraps her legs around his waist, pulling him down. "Don't care."
"You sure? Cause they're going to—"
She bucks her hips and he shuts up instantly, choking on the rest of his sentence. "Rick," she purrs, nipping at his jaw.
"Uh-huh," he says.
"Fuck me."
When he slides into her instead of making a witty retort, she arches and gasps. He stays in her, going completely still. She's going to die of sensory overload, she knows it, but she doesn't even care, all she can think is—
He knows what she wants and moves. He pulls out painstakingly slow and stays out long enough for her to whimper impatiently, buck her hips up toward him, and then he's sliding in again. He's moving too slow. The slide lasts so long and for a hazy second she thinks maybe she goes on forever and so does he and they're destined to spend the rest of their lives in the middle of an inward glide of pleasure.
"This is my favorite part," he breathes into her ear when he's finally all the way in. The low growl of his voice makes something inside of her catch on fire. "I can never think of the words, I never…"
He trails off long enough to roll his hips then move out, then back in. He's shifted and now he's hitting her just right and she arches into him, her mouth open in a silent moan. She swears he must be able to read her mind because even though he's still moving slowly he hits the same spot the next time he moves all the way in.
"There," she gasps.
"There," he echoes in her ear. "That's where you like it."
It's not a question. He knows that's what she likes, just like he knows going slow drives her crazy but makes her wet, she's so wet…
"Jesus, Rick—"
This time he moves into her with a little more speed and a lot more force. He connects hard, and she forgets to breathe again. He goes on like that for she doesn't know how long, she doesn't know anything anymore, just that he's moving and her hips are lifting to meet his seemingly of their own accord because she can't manage to do anything but moan and gasp.
"Kate," he says in her ear. He thrusts faster, harder, and she sees stars on the insides of her eyelids. She reaches down between them, needing the release, but he goes still above her, halfway inside her, and catches her hand.
"Rick," she whimpers. She puts her other hand on his ass and pushes, moves her hips so he slides in a little. His eyes flutter closed and then snap open when she reaches for herself again. He grips her hand tighter, stopping her.
"What do you want?" he asks.
She doesn't answer, just bucks her hips. He moves her hand up above her head and holds it there, then looks her straight in the eye as he thrusts in hard. Her mind stutters as it tries to stay focused. He rolls his hips, grinding inside of her, and she bites down hard on her lip and closes her eyes.
"Kate."
"I want to—" she starts and then stops just as abruptly when his thumb finds her clit. "Yes," she moans.
He presses on her harder. "Want to what?"
"Come," she finally gasps. "Please, I want to come."
And then suddenly he's a man possessed and she's writhing beneath him as the wave of arousal builds and builds and then breaks so fiercely she screams around his shoulder, which she's biting so hard she thinks she might draw blood.
He hangs on a little longer but she has no problem waiting, no problem running her nails over his back during the last part of the blinding fog of her orgasm, unsure if she's breathing but sure she doesn't care. When he comes he groans her name and that makes her shudder beneath him, because he says it like a prayer after finding the Holy Grail.
He collapses on top of her, his head buried in the curve of her shoulder. As she comes back to herself, she listens to the sounds of their ragged breathing. He kisses her shoulder. She runs her hands through his damp hair.
"I think I'm going to have permanent poker chip marks in my back," she says.
She feels his smile against her skin. "That's what you get for cheating."
"I didn't cheat— "
"You so cheated!" he cuts her off, lifting his head to look at her. "You used your womanly wiles to distract me."
She laughs. "What kind of poker player would I be if I didn't use all the skills at my disposal?"
"You're still mad I beat you last week."
"And you're still mad I beat you just now."
"You cheated."
"I saw your cards. I would've won either way."
"But I went all in…" he trails off with a wicked grin, and Kate rolls her eyes.
"You're ridiculous."
"Ridiculously awesome," he counters. "I totally got you back. Point for Castle."
Kate doesn't say it, but that's when she starts planning how to get him back.