I enjoy watching Castle, but I've never attempted a fic for it. Only for my dear friend blindassasin would I risk it. Fortunately it's not a serious story – or even very long, otherwise we'd all be in trouble. Happy Birthday my tassel-loving mate.
"Castle, what are you doing?"
Beckett walked into his apartment to find him precariously balanced between the top of his sofa, which had been rotated 90 degrees and a console table, also moved from its original location.
"I'm measuring something," he told her without further explanation, his tone clearly into what she now recognized as one of his storytelling ones. During a case, of course, he operated on the "pitch" or the "dramatic reading." Currently he wielded what she called "fantasyland". He wasn't really noticing her, yet, as he floated within the depths of his imagination, his hands-on research keeping him too involved for figuring that she couldn't possibly know what, exactly, he was measuring or why.
"Crime scene?"
"Chase." He glanced up at her. "Of a sort."
"With Nikki Heat?"
"Of course." He eyed her with mischief, an eyebrow raised. "Wanna play along?"
She tossed aside her purse and keys. "Sure. Where do you need me?"
The other eyebrow joined the single one in giddy surprise. I need you all over me – or under me, I'm not picky, he thought to himself for a moment, then waved her over. "Nikki busts the door down, springs over the coffee table," here he lowered his voice into a husky timbre, "like the agile jaguar that she is – " Beckett smiled as he continued, "- and knocks the suspect back over the couch." He looked at her expectantly.
"And then?"
"See, that's where you should be right now. Knocking me off the couch."
"Oh! Right." She put a red-booted leg up on the couch and leaned into him, allowing her hair to fall down and graze his neck. "Like this?"
Castle swallowed with effort and concentrated on keeping his breathing even. He could win this. Just stay in the story. He affected a matter-of-fact tone. "So, you don't usually like to play along with my creative process when it involves Nikki Heat. Change of heart? Finally admitting that detective work is sexy?"
She moved her face in closer to his. "Detective work is important and serious. However, Kate Beckett is very sexy." Castle could only nod in mute agreement. She pulled back. "I just got back from drinks with my old friend, Sarah. I'm feeling a little more generous."
Thank you, Sarah, Castle thought to himself before directing Beckett for the next part. "I'm thinking she knocks him into the table, which slides back, and the suspect – Pervy Pete – falls behind the couch, allowing Nikki to jump over, put a," he paused to take in the length of leather boot that tightly outlined Beckett's calf, "boot on his chest to start interrogating him."
Beckett shook her head. "That's not how it would happen." She slid her other knee up between Castle's legs and drove her hand up along his chest in order to grab hold of his shirt. He let out a whimper. She smiled.
Her smile turned to surprise, however, as Castle gripped one of her boots and pulled, causing her to land on her back along the length of the sofa, with him on top.
"Ow," she complained, "you hit my head on the back of the armrest."
Castle immediately loosened his grip, "Kate – I'm sorry. Are you okay?"
Beckett took that moment to grab him and flip him to his own back on the floor, straddle him, and handcuff his wrists around the coffee table leg. She shook her head. "Have you even read your own books? The male suspects fall for that every single time!"
Castle smiled.
"What happens next?" he asked.
"Well, the detective's name is Nikki Heat." She began to unbutton her blouse. She watched his eyes darken in desire, then she stood and slowly unzipped her boots and helped them glide off her legs. When she heard him start to breathe shallowly in anticipation, she kicked them aside and straightened her back, business-like. "I think I'll go take a shower." She started to walk away, tossing her shirt off as she did so. "I feel all grimy from the sweat and smoke from the bar."
"Wait, what? Kate! Where are you going? I'm still handcuffed to the table!"
Beckett grinned to herself as she left him behind.
"Kate?"
