Title: Inspiration

Author: Mindy35

Rating: T, sexual themes

Disclaimer: Not my property, no money made, just fun had.

Spoilers: Inspired by promo pics of "Eye of the Beholder", but nothing from the actual ep. (Also by Stana's comment about how weird it will be for Kate post-Castle's-I-love -you when he shows interest in someone else.)

Pairing: Castle/Beckett

Summary: Castle and Beckett admit their sexual frustration.

-x-x-x-

Castle took his chance as soon as she left the interrogation room from which he'd been barred, immediately falling into step with her elegant, determined strides:

"Okay. You're upset with me and you have every right to be."

"I am not upset with you," Beckett replied without missing a beat. "And I have no right to expect-" She cut herself off, sliced the air with a decisive hand. "You are a free agent, Castle, a single man. You're absolutely free to do whatever or whomever you choose. I just thought-"

"You thought what?" he interjected quickly.

Reaching her desk, she threw the casefile in her hand onto its correct pile, but did not sit. She looked over at him then away. "Nothing. It's…nothing." She took a breath then seemed to change her mind, facing him, one hand steepled on her desk and one on her hip. "Only sometimes your actions confuse me, is all. I guess it's just not the way I do things."

"Yeah, I've seen the way you do things."

Her eyes narrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. Look-" His tone softened as he shifted a little closer. "What you saw before-"

Beckett shook her head, grabbed her jacket and keys. "You don't owe me any explanations, Castle."

"I'd like to offer one all the same," he said even as she turned to go. "If you'll listen."

"Okay, fine," she acceded after a moment's thought. She faced him, arms crossed under her jacket. "I'm listening."

"Okay." Castle faltered once he had her full attention, but decided to start at the beginning. "I have been following you around for-"

"Four years," she supplied sharply.

"Actually, it's been three years and seven months, but who's counting? Still, I think you know by now that I-" he stopped, cleared his throat, tried again. "I mean, I think you have some clue how I-"

Beckett raised her eyebrows expectantly, not making the words fall from his tongue any more easily.

"Well, there's a vibe, isn't there?" he blurted out finally, flapping a hand between them. "There's always been a vibe."

"A vibe?" she questioned cagily.

"A definite vibe," he nodded. "A very powerful vibe."

She tipped her head to one side. "S'that right?"

Castle studied her momentarily. "Still giving nothing away, huh? Fine, you stick with that."

She shrugged. "Thanks, I will."

"Point is," he went on, his voice careful but insistent. "It can be difficult spending day and night with someone with whom there is such a vibe, someone with whom you have a connection, someone for whom there may be…significant feelings and never…never be allowed to touch."

Her eyes dropped from his. "Castle."

"I won't deny," he continued, not heeding the warning in her tone, "that sometimes, I get…distracted. Out of sheer frustration-"

"And you think I don't get frustrated?" she huffed, her arms dropping from their protective position.

"I-" He stalled, brow crinkling with one part confusion and one part curiosity as he looked at her in what seemed like an entirely new way. "I hope you do. I like to think about you being frustrated. Particularly if it's over me."

"Oh, you are plenty frustrating."

"See, I meant in the sexy way."

"Well, maybe I did too," she shot back, immediately regretting the hasty admission.

His brows shot up with interest. "I'm sorry, come again?"

"Don't, Castle," she held up a finger, turned to leave, "don't go there."

But he slipped around her, placed himself in her path. "Oh, we're already there."

Beckett ran a hand over her forehead. "God help me now…"

"So enlighten me," Castle mused smugly, unaffected by her obvious discomfort, "because I'm curious - deeply, deeply curious - what might Kate Beckett do when the frustration becomes too much?"

"Just what you might expect," she replied, lifting one shoulder.

"How characteristically elusive, Detective. But I'd prefer more specific examples."

"I'm sure you would."

"Maybe…maybe that's when you take one of those long baths you're so fond of?" he suggested, eyes glowing with something wicked and wild. "Maybe read a book to decompress? Break out an old Rick Castle favorite, maybe?"

"Maybe," she answered slowly, allowing him his moment of glory. "Who knows? Maybe even a little Nikki Heat."

His ears perked up at that. "Re-ally?"

"Or maybe not," she added, swiftly cutting off his fantasy with her sharp tone. "I might just work out, take out my frustrations on a punching bag or do some yoga til I feel sane again."

"And when that doesn't work?" he asked, one brow lifted.

She gave a closed-lipped smile, attempting to slip past him and escape. "Oh, Castle, you have a gifted imagination, I'm sure you can figure that out."

"I can imagine, yes. But tell me this-" he stepped to the side with her, held out a hand to halt her, "in such situations, when you wish to rid yourself of the overwhelming lust that is driving you slowly insane-"

"I didn't say any of that," she muttered, wagging her head.

"You implied it, I just filled in the blanks," he said glibly before continuing on with his query. "What…form might the object of your frustration release take?"

Beckett frowned, confused. "Form?"

Castle cast a cursory glance around the bullpen to make sure no one was near. Discretion also gave him an excuse to sidle that little bit closer. "Come on, we've all got our go-to fantasies. So…what? Maybe a little Harrison Ford does the trick for you?"

"Oh-" She nodded in comprehension then shook her head in distaste. "No. God, no. Too old and grouchy."

"Ah." Castle nodded. And persisted. "Maybe Ashton Kutcher is more your speed then?"

She shook her head again. "Uh-uh. Too skinny. And too hairy. I'm not into either."

"Interesting," he mused, a little lilt in his tone. "Maybe an old classic then, someone like George Clooney to take the edge off?"

"Um…" Beckett pursed her lips in thought then answered softly, "Not my type, actually."

"Didn't think you had a type."

"I didn't used to."

"Curiouser and curiouser," he remarked, his gaze glued to her face. "So perhaps – and I'm just positing a theory here – but perhaps Kate Beckett prefers something a little closer to reality, somebody a little more accessible, someone who's already a part of her world? Someone not too old and not too young-" he glanced down at his gut, sucked it in, making his chest puff out instead, "not overly skinny or hairy or grouchy. Someone a little like…her favorite author maybe?"

Beckett was biting her lip to stem an unwilling smile. "I…I refuse to answer that on the grounds that I might incriminate myself."

"You don't need to. You're blushing, that's all the proof I need."

"Yeah, well, you never were one to need real proof when it came to a story you liked the sound of."

"And I like the sound of this story. A lot."

She opened her mouth to respond, probably to fire off a rejoinder, but Castle moved even closer, lowering his voice to a rich rumble as he told her:

"I'm glad…you think about me. You know…in that way." He watched the blood in her cheeks intensify, watched her eyes widen and her mouth open, searching for a decent response. He didn't wait for one to eventuate though before admitting, "Cos I think about you. In that way."

Beckett swallowed, for once thrown off her guard. An odd little curiosity was glowing in her eyes, just visible behind her habitual wariness. "…You do?"

Castle paused, eyes running over her face for a moment. He didn't know how she could be surprised by this fact, considering the content of his books, but she looked it. He gave a slow nod, asking carefully, "Is that…okay with you?"

She broke their eye contact, ducking her head to give a breathless little laugh. "Do you really need my permission for that, Castle?"

"I haven't in the past," he confessed with a sly smile. "But I wouldn't mind having it now, since we're on the subject."

"I'm not sure any woman could control what goes on in that head of yours. But, if it eases your frustration then…" she lifted her head, met his eyes, "I guess I don't have a problem with it."

The grin on his face increased. "Honestly, I'm not sure whether it eases it or increases it. But this whole conversation has certainly been…" he drew in a deep breath then let it out again, "inspiring."

"Well, that's what I'm here for," she said, spreading her arms at her sides. "Inspiration."

"And believe me-" He captured her right hand, the one gripping her keys, and lifted it to his lips, "there's not a woman on this planet who inspires me like you do." He kissed her fingers, lips brushing across her skin as his eyes held hers. "Absolutely…none."

The elevator dinged and a few officers stepped off, talking loudly and causing Beckett to yank back her hand and step away, breaking the moment. "Well, I…I'm gonna-" she hesitated, eyes skittish as she backed towards the exit, "go now. G'night, Castle."

"Going home to take a bath?" he called after her as she strode away. "Indulge in a little Heat?"

"Maybe," she called over her shoulder.

"Or to do some of that intense, sweaty yoga practice of yours?"

"Maybe." She stopped, "Or…-" and turned. She glanced about the virtually empty bullpen then began to make her way back to him, her steps slow and predatory and her voice deliberately sultry. "Maybe I'll just light some candles…strip down…step into a hot, steamy shower…lather my entire body with something soapy and sweet…"

Castle released a high, involuntary moan, eyes wide as saucers. "…soapy…?"

Beckett continued, coming to a stop in front of him, her lips curving upwards evilly and her voice little more than a provocative whisper. "…That is, before I climb into bed…completely…and utterly…naked." She drew in a breath, cocked her head to one side. "It's way too hot for pyjamas, don't you think?"

Castle gulped, spellbound. "Hot. Yes…"

"I'm glad you agree," she murmured, running a hand lightly over his lapel. "I'll just leave you with that thought then." Her eyes flicked up to his as she turned on her heel. "To do with what you will."

A moment later, when he'd recovered a little, when she was sauntering away from him with a self-satisfied swing in her hips, he called after her, his voice cracking just slightly, "You're a cruel woman, Katherine Beckett."

"Don't I know it," she mumbled, referring more to her own frustration than his. Then she turned to tell him with a smile that was as affectionate as it was suggestive, "Sweet dreams, Castle."

Castle smiled back, replying after a long moment, "Sweet dreams, Kate." He watched her turn and go, watched her familiar step and the fall of her hair down her back and the still present swing of her hips. And he couldn't help adding daringly, "I'll be thinking of you."

Her smile held but Kate kept walking, murmuring to herself a privately pleased: "Good."

END.