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The keys clatter against the polished steel of her kitchen island and Kate sighs, frustration simmering in her stomach. He left. The bastard seriously turned down sex and left. All because of some stupid curse that only he believes is real. Of course he believes it's real. He's - well, he's him. Magic and curses and zombie apocalypses are right up his damn alley.

Grabbing a bottle of wine from the rack, Kate scoops up her favorite glass and heads toward the bedroom. She secures her gun in its lockbox and strips off her clothes, casting a glance in the mirror as she reveals the lingerie she'd chosen that morning. Blue lace. He likes her in blue. And lace. He likes her in blue and lace and it's been three days since they were last together and she wants him. She wants him and she'd gotten dressed with the express intention of bringing him home with her and doing unspeakably dirty things to him on various surfaces. Swallowing an exasperated groan, Kate reaches back and flicks open the clasp on her bra, tossing it lazily at her laundry basket as she heads toward the bathroom.

The knob squeaks when she turns on the faucet, the rush of hot water slamming against porcelain loud enough to drown out her thoughts for a moment. Kate shimmies out of her underwear and arranges the wine and her phone on the little table she keeps in the bathroom solely for that purpose. She enjoys baths, finds them relaxing and soothing. Her mind can float right along with her body, the water lapping softly against her skin, washing away the stress and worry.

And tonight, the sexual frustration.

Candlelight flickers over her skin as she steps into the water, the heat of it almost abrasive. Sucking in a gasp through her teeth, Kate lowers herself down slowly as her body adjusts to the temperature. She leans back, her neck cushioned on the soft padded bolster she uses for her baths, and closes her eyes. The tub is cool against her shoulder blades, the porcelain having not yet absorbed the heat of the water, and she presses into it, enjoying the conflicting sensations.

Blindly, she reaches toward the table, fingers scraping over the wood until they close around the remote for her iPod dock. The power button sticks and she groans. Drawing it toward her face and cracking open one eye, she pries the round button from the plastic with her nail and presses it again. The device comes to life and she jumps, sending the water sloshing violently, when cacophonous rock music blasts through the speakers, echoing off the tiled walls. Cursing out Castle's name, she manages to turn the sound down to a less eardrum bursting decibel. She's never leaving him alone in her apartment again, no matter how much he whines when she gets a three am body drop.

Kate clicks through the playlists until she finds something soft then trades the remote for her glass and relaxes back into the still choppy water. The wine coats her tongue, fills her stomach with a pleasant warmth that slowly radiates out through her limbs, replacing the knots and tension with a gentle wash of pleasure.

She really wishes he was here. His chest, wide and round and perfectly contoured to her body, pressed up against her back, arms looped loosely around her stomach. It's new for her, wanting to share this with someone else. Baths have always been a solitary activity; a way to relax privately and be alone with her thoughts. She doesn't want to talk or think. Just be. And Castle gets it. She wasn't sure he would the first time he followed her into the bathroom and asked if he could join; she'd tried to hide the reluctance in her tone when she agreed. The smile he'd given her, bright and full of gratitude, had made her heart flip, sending the trepidation and annoyance running. She'd watched him climb in, his bulky frame filling her tub in a way that made her knees weak and her heart hammer. He looked good. Inviting. She'd taken his proffered hand and let him guide her into the water, her body slotting into his like a puzzle. Castle had kissed her on the neck and then leaned back, taking her weight and letting her float. It was the best bath she'd ever had and though they've recreated it quite a few times over these months, nothing will ever top the first one.

The flared base of her glass clinks against the side of the tub when she lets her arm hang out, elbow hooked over the ledge. She wants him so badly tonight. And not only for the sex. She just wants to be with him, to have him close. The time they're able to have alone, no mothers or daughters or murders, is far too rare. They spend most days together at the precinct and she loves it. Loves having him by her side, helping her solve murders and making her job a little more fun. But it's not the same. It's not enough anymore. She craves his presence in moments like these. Moments when she can stop and breathe and let it all go for a little while. She wants to lay next to him in her bed and listen to the steady rhythm of his breaths. Wants to wake up with his arm slung over the small of her back and his face mashed into her pillow. She wants him with her all the time, from dawn to dusk and everything in between. He makes her world a better place and she wants as much time there as she can get.

The funky bass line of "Papa Was A Rolling Stone" fills the bathroom, breaking her out of her circular thoughts and bringing a smile to her face. Kate switches her wine to her left hand and grabs her cell, rolling her eyes at the picture he'd set as his caller id when she wasn't paying attention. She's going to have to have another conversation with him about certain things needing to stay in the privacy of their bedrooms, apparently.

Swiping her thumb across the screen, Kate brings the phone to her ear. "I see you're still alive."

"Barely."

She hums, encouraging him to carry on with whatever story she knows he's dying to tell.

"I almost got hit by a cab on the way home. Came right out of nowhere. I was just minding my own business -"

"By which you mean jaywalking while playing with your phone."

"And he almost ran right into me. Squealed to a stop with his bumper about two inches away from my knee," Castle finishes, ignoring her interjection. "It was a close call. And then when I got home, my mother was -" He pauses and Kate can hear him swallowing. "Well, she was entertaining. On the couch. That alone was nearly enough to scare me to death. Stop laughing. It's not funny."

"Yeah," Kate says, her voice still shaking, "it is, Castle."

"Because you're not the one who just got an eyeful of some old man's hand shoved down the back of your mother's skirt. I am never getting that image out of my head. It's -"

"It's nice."

"Seeing my mother get felt up is nice?"

"Well, okay. That part is more disturbing than nice. I just meant that it's nice that she still has an active social life."

"I'd appreciate it if she didn't have it on my couch," he huffs.

Kate closes her eyes as she listens to him shuffle around, his routine flickering like a movie across her mind. His keys clatter on top of his dresser, followed by his watch and wallet. Next are his shoes and belt which he'll kick into a messy pile in the corner of the closet until the morning. Shirt and pants hit the clothes hamper with a soft rush of air. The comforter and sheets rustle as he pulls them back and climbs into the bed, back propped up against the headboard. She can see it all so clearly and her stomach aches, the need for him gnawing at her. Leaning to the side, she sets her glass down on the tiled floor and switches the phone to her left hand, her right slipping down into the water.

"Kate?" His voice, soft and rich, fills her ear again as she trails her fingers over her stomach, her muscles rippling under her touch. "You still there?"

"Yeah," she replies over the slosh of the water as she bends her right knee and places her foot flat on the bottom of the tub. "I'm here."

"Is that water? Are you in the bath?

"Extremely astute observation there, Castle." Her hand grows bolder, flattening against her abdomen and skimming up to cup her breast.

"A bath sounds nice. Wish I was there."

"You could be," she says, the petulance in her voice masking the gasp she lets out when she pinches her nipple. "You're the one who passed because of some ridiculous, formulaic horror movie cliché about sex and death."

"You'll forgive me if I don't want 'sex induced fear' to be listed as my cause of death."

"Really? Sex induced fear?"

"Wouldn't be the first time I feared for my life in your bed, Beckett."

Her hand stops moving. "What?"

"I'm just saying. There are certain things you do that leave me concerned for the state of my heart. I'm not being hyperbolic when I say you've quite literally made it stop a few times."

"And what things in particular are you referring to?"

Castle chuckles. "Why, so you can make sure you do them all at once and actually kill me?"

"Something like that," she replies, her hand starting to travel again. She runs over her breasts and stomach, trails across her hips and thighs. Arousal vibrates under her skin, an electric current that sparks in the water and leaves her tingling.

"Well," he says, obvious glee in his tone, "there's that thing you do with your hips when you're on top. It's like a swirl and pop. I'm pretty sure I could be considered clinically brain dead for about five seconds every time you do that."

She breathes out a laugh, fingers skimming up and down her inner thigh. "Like that, do you?"

"God, yes," he says and she can hear the sudden surge of desire in his voice. "You have no idea how much I like that."

"If the dumbstruck look you get when I do it is any indication then, yeah I think I might have some idea."

"Don't be smug, Beckett," he admonishes, "or else I won't tell you any more."

Kate takes a slow, deep breath, concentrating on keeping her voice even. "I'm pretty sure I know most of them already, Castle. They're my moves after all." Her fingers slip between her legs, the light strokes making tiny waves in the rapidly cooling water.

"All right, Detective. Give me your guesses."

"Ice cubes."

"That's a gimme; doesn't count."

"Fine," she sighs, her leg twitching as her fingers draw slow circles around her clit. "You seem to be a big fan of that thing I do with my fingers when I'm going down on you."

Castle emits a tiny moan of affirmation that shoots straight through her, exploding at the base of her spine and sending shock waves radiating out into her limbs. "Yeah, I do enjoy that. Immensely." She can hear him moving, the sheets rustling as he settles himself more comfortably on the bed. "What else?"

Her head is foggy, the combination of heat and arousal and the deep baritone of his voice rendering her almost incapable of higher brain function. The water makes her skin slick and her palm slips, her hand sliding to the left. The pad of her middle finger brushes over her clit and she can't hold back the whimper.

"Kate?"

She breathes deeply, moving her hand over to grip her thigh, the red skin blanching as she tries to regain control. "Yeah?"

"Are you masturbating in the bath?"

She laughs at the delight she can hear in his words. "I was."

"And you're not now? Why?"

"Because I'm getting out."

"What? Why?" His questions verge on frantic and she smiles, sitting up and leaning forward until her breasts press into her raised thighs. "You like -"

"When you're here, I like it," she reminds him. "But since you're not, I'm getting out. I need two hands for what I want to do." Castle groans and her grin grows. "I'll talk to you tomorrow?"

"Don't you dare," he rasps. "You can't tell me that and expect me to not want to hear it."

Kate pulls the plug on the tub, the water gurgling gently as it circles the drain. "Ah, but what about your whole 'sex leads to death' theory?"

"Phone sex doesn't count."

"You sure? Cause I'd really hate to be party to your untimely demise, Castle."

"Beckett." His voice is gruff and Kate stifles a moan. God, she loves it when he's like that. When he holds her down and tells her exactly what he's about to do to her, his eyes lit with fire. She surrenders to him so easily, always willing to give him the control she consistently denies him at work. "Get out of the damn tub and call me back when you're in bed."

The line goes dead and she stares at her phone for a moment, the urge to call him back and beg him to come over and make her scream pressing hard against her ribs. Kate carefully places the phone back on the table and, with a shaky sigh, stands, shivering when the cool air hits her overheated skin. She dries herself quickly, gasping when the textured towel grazes over her peaked nipples. After blowing out all the candles, she snatches her phone up and heads into her bedroom, leaving the wine behind. Settling on the bed, Kate pulls up his name in her phone and hits the call button, flipping it over to speaker before placing it on the other pillow. His pillow.

"I've been thinking about what you said," he says without preamble after picking up on the second ring. "About it being our last time."

"And?"

"And I don't want a last time with you," he admits in a rush and she can hear the emotion in his voice. Kate closes her eyes and laces her fingers over her stomach in a useless attempt to stop the riot of butterflies. "I mean, I know everyone eventually has a last time but just thinking about it - I don't want that with us."

"Castle -"

"But if it was our last time, I'd want to know."

Her breath hitches. This was not what she was expecting. "Wouldn't that hurt? Knowing?"

"Yeah, it would," he agrees, a ghost of the possible future hurt in his voice. "But I still would want to know. I'd want to be able to commit it to memory. To take my time and make it last. I don't want our last time to be some frantic, end of the world or 'we're about to die' thing. I want it to be about us. Just us."

"Tell me," she says, desperation in her voice. She needs to hear it. Needs to hear his version of this thing she doesn't even want to think about. "Tell me what it would be like."

"It would be slow. Gentle. Like our second time. Remember?"

God, does she remember. He'd been so tender with her, taking his time and exploring her body, hitting all the places he'd missed during their frantic rush to finally be together, to know what it was like to touch each other without reservation. His hands had mapped her, drawing over the same lines and curves again and again as though he was witnessing a miracle. It'd lasted forever, his mouth and hands and the words he whispered into her skin making her melt into him. He'd broken her apart and put her back together a hundred times by the time they were done, tears rolling down her cheeks as she clung desperately to him. "Yeah, I remember," she murmurs, her fingers unlacing and skimming over her skin in a poor imitation of his.

"I know your body so well but I'd learn it all again. Rediscover you like we were brand new. That spot on your neck that makes you shiver. The way your eyes roll back when I pinch your nipples." Her right hand moves to her breast, emulating his words. "How my name sounds in your throat when I put my mouth on you, your knees hooked over my shoulders. You always sound different then. Wild and unchained. Sometimes it's all I can do not to climb back up the bed and thrust into you as deeply as I can."

Kate whimpers, too far gone to even care about the raw neediness in her voice when she moans out his name. Her left hand joins her right as her hips arch into thin air, the echo of his tongue whispering between her legs.

"But I can't," Castle continues, his breath becoming ragged. "Because the way you taste, Kate - Oh my god. I can't even describe it. I love to feel you on my mouth, grinding yourself as hard as you can against my face with your back arched and your toes curled into my spine. You always come for me, your fingers gripping my hair as you tremble. And for our last time," his voice hitches and Kate feels her heart stumble in response, "I would make you fall apart again and again. My mouth and my fingers pulling moans from you until you begged me to stop." He pauses. "Do you want me to stop, Kate?"

Slipping her right hand between her legs, she drags her fingers across herself, moaning at how wet she is. At what he can do to her with just his words. "No. Never. Please, Castle."

"You want more?"

"Yes," she stutters, legs quivering as she pushes two fingers inside herself. "God, yes."

"I'd kiss my way down your legs and back up again, biting your left ankle in the way I know you love. You'd tug on my hair, trying to make me go faster, but we both know I'd resist. This is it. The last time I'm ever going to get to touch you, to feel your naked and sweaty skin under my hands. The last time I'll slide into you, feeling how hot and wet you are for me. For me." Castle sucks in a deep breath and she hears him shifting, hears the way he's stroking himself. Groaning, Kate rolls onto her stomach, right hand trapped beneath her body as she grinds. "I still can't get over that, Kate. That I do that to you. That you want me."

"I do," she says, her knuckles turning white as her left hand grips the sheets. "I want you so much, Castle. Only you."

"Yes, only me," he repeats, a fierce possessiveness in the words. "Only I get to touch you. I'm the only one that gets to make you feel like this. I'm the only one in your bed, in your heart. Just me."

"Yes. Fuck, Castle. Yes."

"I want to watch your face when I push into you for the last time. Want to see your eyes go wide and your mouth fall open as you feel me stretching you apart, your body clamping down around me. I'd go so slowly, Kate. So slowly that you could feel every single inch, could feel just how much I want you. Need you." The phone slides off the pillow as she pushes up on her knees, her nipples grazing the sheets. Her fingers pump wildly and her hips thrust and fuck she wants it to be him. Wants to feel him inside of her. "I'd gather you in my arms, kissing every part you I could reach as we moved together, the sound of our bodies filling the room. And when you came, when you dug your nails into my shoulders and bit my neck, I wouldn't stop."

"No, don't stop."

"I'm not. I want to feel you, Kate, every flutter and spasm. I want to carve it into my bones, the way you feel when you come for me. I want to look into your eyes and tell you I love you while you arch up into me, your body wrapped so tightly around mine that I can't even tell where I stop and you start. Because I do. I love you, Kate. And if this is the last time, you have to know. You have to feel it and hear and see it. You have to remember it."

"Castle," she moans, her words completely out of her control. "I love you. Fuck, Castle. Love you so much. God, yes." Her body falls back to the bed and she grinds ferociously against her palm, fingers curled tightly inside.

"Come for me, Kate," he commands, the words hard and full of air. "Let me hear you."

She shatters on a scream, her face buried in the mattress, teeth biting at the sheets. The sound of Castle's own orgasm fills the room, her name falling from his lips in between rough, guttural moans. Kate pants into the pillow, her body drenched and trembling. She can hear Castle on the other end of the line, his ragged breaths a counterpoint to hers.

After a long minute, he finally speaks. "Kate? You okay?"

Rolling to her side, she picks the phone up off the bed, turning off the speaker and bringing it to her ear. "Yeah, I'm good. You?"

"So much better than good," he chuckles dryly, his voice raspy from overuse. "That was -"

"Intense?" She supplies when he pauses.

"Amazing," he counters, a smile clear in his tone. "Amazingly intense." A weighted silence falls as he pauses again. "Kate -"

"I meant it, Castle," she whispers, closing her eyes at his sigh of relief. It wasn't how she wanted to tell him but she can't regret it. It was messy and imperfect and so very them. She brings her free hand to her chest, palm resting flat over her scar. Their scar. "Of course I love you. Am in love with you. I have been for so long that it feels like I can't remember a time when I wasn't."

"I'm coming over," he declares, the sheets rustling as he moves out of the bed. "I need to see you right now. I need - I just need to be there."

She needs him to be here too.

"What about the curse?"

"Fuck the curse," he says, laughing. "If I die after spending the night in your bed, hearing you say that you love me, it'll be totally worth it."

Thank you for reading. As always, your thoughts and comments are appreciated