Disclaimer: All things Castle belong to the powers that be at ABC.
Just One Night
She wanted one night of fun.
Kate dressed herself carefully for the night, her makeup darker and more sensual than she usually wore it, dark mascara and heavy eyeliner to emphasize her eyes. She put on a small spurt of perfume, one that she rarely wore, a sultry scent, deliberately putting a few additional drops of it between her breasts.
She slipped into underwear that was silky bits of barely-there seductiveness and then into a tight black dress that outlined her curves like a second skin, the neckline dipping low enough that it would give any man who was tall enough quite a view, and ended some inches above her knees. She surveyed herself in her mirror with some satisfaction. It was an outfit made to catch men's eyes. Which was the entire point.
After a couple intense cases that involved a few near-death experiences, she wanted a distraction, one night of fun, as Lanie would term it. One night where she wasn't the responsible, cautious Detective Beckett. One night to lay down her burdens. Just one night was all she wanted.
She had already decided on a club to go to tonight. It was one that was far enough away from the precinct or anywhere else she normally went that she knew she needn't fear running into anyone she knew, although admittedly it was unlikely to begin with since cops tended to frequent cop bars and a club like this this was high end enough that Vice wouldn't be interested in it either. Which made it perfect for her purposes.
The early March night was chilly but the club itself was warm enough that she could shed her coat the moment she walked in, her eyes quickly and automatically scanning the dimly lit room. She noted one man who was obviously ogling her but she avoided meeting his eyes as she headed to the bar. Not her type.
Kate ordered a shot of vodka, which she downed in one go, the alcohol giving her a quick rush. Not quite liquid courage but something like it. She knew what she was looking for, what she wanted. The only question was finding it.
She glanced around, her eyes being snagged by another man who appeared to be people-watching, his head somewhat turned away as his gaze was directed towards a loud group of people who looked like rich college kids at the other end of the bar. She took advantage of his distraction to study him. She couldn't see his face, only his profile, turned away from her as he was, but even from his profile, she could tell that he was good-looking. Something about him struck her as being familiar but she couldn't place it and after a moment dismissed the niggling thought in favor of scanning the rest of him. And the rest of him, from what she could see, was well worth a look. He was tall, big, broad-shouldered. He had taken off his jacket and slung it over the back of the bar stool and the bulk of his shoulders and his upper arms was clearly outlined by his shirt.
Just looking at him, even from a distance, she felt an instantaneous, visceral tug of attraction strong enough to throw her a little. She didn't react so strongly to attractive strangers, at least she never had before. She was too cynical, had seen too much of what could be hidden behind too-handsome faces to put much stock in looks. Well, all she wanted was one night and this stranger appeared to be exactly what she wanted.
She started towards him, watching as he lifted his glass and took a drink, his face turning more towards her allowing her a fuller view of it. Oh. Oh wait. Recognition flashed through her as her step momentarily hitched.
He wasn't a stranger. Or at least, not an anonymous one. Not to her. It was Richard Castle. No wonder he had looked familiar. She'd seen his picture on the back of all his books, a row of which sat on her bookshelves at this very moment. He had signed a book for her a few years ago.
Richard Castle.
She hadn't quite realized when she'd met him oh so briefly at the book signing that he was so… hot.
That was an interesting twist to tonight, if it ended up as she hoped. Planned. One night of fun, one night to remember, with her favorite living author.
She felt a flicker of anticipation. Mr. Castle had a reputation for being quite a ladies man so tonight, she could find out how much justice the gossip did him.
She deliberately pitched her voice to be somewhat huskier than usual, seductive. "Hi. Mind if I join you?"
He turned, his eyes flying to hers for an instant before quickly scanning her body from head to toe and then up again and she felt heat streak through her at the way his blue eyes had darkened when he met her eyes again. Yes, he was attracted to her and she was most certainly attracted to him.
"You are welcome to join me anytime, anywhere," he answered, flashing her a quick smile. Her pulse stuttered a little. Without a smile, he was handsome. With a smile, he was more than that, the smile adding a charm, a charisma, that was about more than just good looks. And oh, the author pictures on his books really had not managed to do justice to his eyes that were a deep sapphire blue.
Kate returned his smile. "Let's start with this moment and see how it goes," she suggested as she draped her coat over the back of the stool next to his and slid onto it, feeling a flicker of satisfaction at the way his eyes flicked down to her thighs, revealed by her skirt rucking up from the motion. "I'm Kate."
"Hi, Kate. I'm Rick."
Her lips quirked. "I know who you are, Mr. Castle."
He smirked, a spark entering his eyes. "Are you a fan by any chance, Kate?"
She made herself laugh lightly, dismissively. "In your dreams, Mr. Castle. I think I've seen a couple of your books in the library and I've seen your picture in the papers."
He shrugged a little, drawing her attention to the breadth of his shoulders. "You should know that my dreams come true so you might end up being a fan after all, Kate."
"If I am, that's for me to know and you to find out," she quipped.
He laughed. "Fair enough. So you're here alone, Kate?"
Amused, she raised her eyebrows and smirked at him. "Why, you don't think a nice girl like me should be alone?" she countered. She'd expected a better line from him than that.
He met her eyes, his smile fading, as he answered with sudden seriousness that surprised her with his lightning-quick change of expression and tone, "I think a nice girl like you should be alone as long and as often as you prefer. But I'd like to be there for when you'd like someone next to you."
Oh… He was definitely a writer, she thought rather fuzzily, in a grasping attempt at cynicism that faltered. She felt a warmth in her chest that had nothing to do with arousal, a sudden tug of something like longing. It was only a line, she tried to tell herself, one he would probably use on any number of women, but it sounded like… understanding. Someone to be there when she wanted someone next to her. Not insisting that she shouldn't be alone but just to be there when she wished it.
As if this was more than just a flirtation leading to a one-night stand. But he was a multi-millionaire; he wouldn't be interested in a plain cop like her for anything more than a night.
She gave him her best seductive look from beneath her eyelashes. "I'm interested in having company tonight."
His answer was a slow smile and a look that made heat scorch her cheeks and started arousal thrumming through her veins. She didn't know how he did it. She'd never been so susceptible to just a look from any other man but somehow, Rick Castle was different. Oh, she wanted him.
"So, Kate," he began after a moment, his tone light but his eyes still dark, aroused, "you know what I do. You want to make things even and tell me what you do during the days? No, wait, on second thought, don't tell me. Let me see if I can guess instead."
She smirked. "All right, Rick," she agreed. "Give it your best shot but remember, three strikes and you're out."
He grinned, sitting up straight and leaning ever so slightly towards her, a light entering his eyes. So he had a competitive streak in him and liked a challenge. Maybe they weren't so different in everything. "So what'll I get if I win?"
"What do you want?" she parried.
His eyes dropped to her lips and then lower to her chest, the cleavage nicely revealed by the low neckline of her dress, and then down further to her legs and then up again. She felt lust streak through her, arousal pooling in her stomach. He wanted her. She fully expected him to ask her to spend the night with him—and she would say yes—but then he surprised her by answering, "One drink. If I win, I get to buy you a drink."
She might have thought she would feel let down since she'd been expecting an invitation but she didn't. Instead, she found she liked it—liked him all the more for it. Liked him for surprising her, liked him for wanting to do something for her as his prize, liked him for not propositioning her, even if she was perfectly willing, not to say eager, to be propositioned by him.
She'd already liked his books. Now, she found, she rather liked the man as well.
"It's a deal," she agreed.
He gave her a quick smile that faded as he studied her for a moment and she wondered what he was looking for or what exactly he thought he could see, even as she felt a little thrill. It was… oddly exciting and yet warming at the same time to feel the force of Rick Castle's attention, the way he was looking at her as if she were the only other person in the room. She was beginning to understand at least partly why Rick Castle was so successful with women, aside from his fame and money; it was an undeniably heady feeling to have a man as handsome as he was focusing all his attention on her. "Let's see what I can guess about you," he began conversationally. "You're smart, confident, know how to walk into a room as if you own it." She felt herself flush slightly. So he had noticed her walk in. "You're decisive so I'd guess that you're used to being in a leadership role and you don't seem like a frivolous person so I'd also guess that your work involves doing something to make the world better, saving lives or something like that." He paused and then asked, with a sudden, quick grin, "Are you a super hero? I can definitely see you as Wonder Woman."
She laughed. He was being facetious but she couldn't quite help but feel a little flattered at how he apparently viewed her. "Nope, sorry, not a super hero. Guess again."
He gave a theatrical sigh. "Too bad. You'd look great in Wonder Woman's outfit. Okay, trying again. Maybe you're a doctor, literally saving lives every day."
It was amazingly silly to be playing this sort of guessing game but she found she was enjoying herself. And after all, tonight was a night to be someone other than the serious person she usually had to be for work. "Wrong again. Strike two."
"My last chance, hmm. I'd better guess wisely." He made a show of studying her again, although this time she could see he was play-acting, even going so far as to stroke his chin in exaggerated thoughtfulness. She bit back the laugh that bubbled up inside her at his theatrics. She wouldn't have thought she would like this sort of silliness and maybe it was only because this was supposed to be one night where she shed her usual workaday shield, but whatever the reason, she was enjoying herself. She had thought tonight was about having fun, finding a sexy stranger to just enjoy herself with, but in Rick Castle—although he was certainly sexy, sexy enough that just looking at him made her hands almost itch with the urge to touch him, to explore the muscles of his chest and lower still—she had found a more innocent fun too, his sense of humor bringing out hers. It occurred to her that she would be sorry when this night was over.
"Okay, I'll make my last guess," he said, "and it's law enforcement. You spend your days kicking ass and saving the world from bad guys."
She grinned, surprise and pleasure mingling inside her at his correct guess. "Nice guess. You're right. I'm a cop."
His entire face lit up with his smile, intrigue clearly visible in his expression. "You are? That is so hot."
She laughed. "I think that's the first time I've ever gotten that reaction to what I do."
He smirked, preening a little, and she found herself thinking that he was actually kind of… cute too. "I pride myself on being unique."
"Or it could just mean you're freakish," she countered teasingly.
"Unique sounds better so I'm going with that."
"Of course you are," she mocked lightly.
"And I won so I get to claim my prize!" he declared with boyish glee that had her suppressing another laugh. Rick Castle was silly, like an overgrown boy, and while that sort of thing had never appealed to her before, on him, it kind of did.
But then, even as she thought it, his expression changed, his voice lowering, becoming husky, feathering across her nerve endings, and she was forcefully reminded that whatever else, Rick Castle was definitely a man. A very sexy man. "So what do you want, Kate?"
You. The word darted into her mind. She wanted him. She had to fight for a measure of coherence. He was asking what she wanted to drink, at least ostensibly, although his eyes and his voice made it clear that he was offering more than just a drink. And she definitely wanted more than just a drink.
Her mouth had gone dry and she had to lick her lips before answering, making his eyes flicker down to her mouth, his eyes darkening. "Tequila." It was a sudden impulsive answer, born of sheer lust.
She hadn't done tequila shots in years, not since her bouts of wild, reckless stupidity in the bad years during college and immediately afterwards.
Something flashed in his eyes and he didn't break eye contact, even as he raised a hand to summon a bartender and asked for tequila along with salt and limes.
The tequila arrived promptly and he poured out a shot and then reached for the salt-shaker but she forestalled him, picking it up herself and then with her other hand, grasped his hand. The first time she'd touched him and sensation streaked up her arm just from the simple contact of skin against skin. It was crazy, amazing, and she knew he felt it too because his lips parted slightly, his eyes widening.
Moving slowly, so he could tell what she was planning before she did it, she pulled his hand towards her, sprinkled salt over the back of his hand, and then leaned over and licked the salt off his skin.
His skin was sharp with salt and a tang that was probably sweat and something else that was just him. He had frozen and was staring at her and for a split second, she wondered if she'd just been too bold but then she saw him swallow, naked lust painted across his expression.
She knocked back the shot of tequila and then picked up a lime slice and bit into the fruit, some lime juice running down her hand.
And then he was grasping her hand in his turn and bringing it to his lips to lick the trail of juice running down her hand, his tongue swirling over her skin.
Oh god. Her eyes fluttered closed and she had to bite back the moan that rose in her throat. She abruptly changed her mind about lingering in the club any longer, about having any more tequila, about waiting. She felt feverish, her skin burning up, her dress suddenly too tight and she wanted it off, wanted his lips and his hands and his body against hers and she wanted it now.
"Let's get out of here, go somewhere more private," she suggested, her voice so husky it sounded foreign to her own ears.
"Yes," he agreed immediately and she could have smirked or laughed at his eagerness and impatience except she was just as eager, just as impatient. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been so aroused, so desperate, for a man, and it was a little unnerving how fast and how easily he had put her in this state—she never liked losing control—but she couldn't bring herself to care.
He fumbled a little with his wallet and then he carelessly tossed a couple bills onto the bar while she slid off the stool and grabbed up her coat, although she felt too heated to make the thought of putting the coat on at all appealing.
The chilliness of the night air was refreshing on her over-heated skin as they left the club and he hailed a cab for them.
She slid inside first and he followed and she was a little surprised—not to say disappointed—that he left some space between their bodies as if he was afraid more physical closeness would inevitably lead to a conflagration neither of them could stop.
Rick gave the driver an address and turned to her. "Kate, you—"
She never found out what he'd been about to say because as he turned towards her, a passing street light conveniently (or something) slanted across his face, illuminating his nose, his chin, his lips. Oh, his lips… Something snapped inside her and before she'd consciously realized what she was going to do, her hands grasped his jacket and tugged him towards her and kissed him.
He made a soft sound of surprise but his response was immediate, his tongue sweeping into her mouth, his hand curling possessively around her neck, and oh god, he was a good kisser, she thought fuzzily, his kiss demanding and seductive and consuming. He nibbled lightly on her lower lip and she was vaguely aware of hearing a soft moan and belatedly realized it had come from her.
A car honking from somewhere startled them into breaking apart, both of them breathless, and she regained enough of her senses to be rather glad of it as she remembered that they were still in the taxi and she'd been on the verge of crawling right into his lap and…
She flushed and was thankful for the dark concealing it. One of his hands was still cradling her neck, his fingers starting to trace delicate little patterns on her skin, sending delicious tremors of sensation through her.
His eyes were wide as he stared at her as if… She swallowed, a fresh wave of heat pooling between her legs just from the expression on his face. He stared at her as if she were the most gorgeous woman he'd ever seen—he, Richard Castle, with a reputation for always having a beautiful woman on his arm—he stared at her as if he could happily spend the rest of his life looking at nothing else.
"You have such gorgeous eyes," he husked.
She huffed a soft, breathless little laugh. "It's too dark for you to even see my eyes." It was too dark for her to see his eyes too.
"I noticed your eyes earlier. I just—" He broke off as the taxi pulled in to the curb.
He paid the driver as she exited the cab first to see that they had arrived at what looked to be a private club, a discreet sign above the door announcing it simply as the Varick Club.
Rick slid an arm around her waist, his hand resting on her hip, as they entered the club.
The front entrance of the club was elegant and luxurious, the walls appearing to be marble. Kate glanced around as subtly as she could. So this was the sort of place the rich and famous brought their dates when they wanted privacy.
The girl at the front desk greeted them both with a smile, although she pretended blindness to Rick's hand on Kate's hip. "Welcome back, Mr. Castle. How nice to see you again."
Rick favored the girl with a smooth but impersonal smile—Kate blinked, realizing for the first time that he had not used that impersonal smile with her. "Hi, Vivian. Can I have a playroom for the night?"
A playroom? Really? That was what the Varick Club called their rooms? Kate suppressed a laugh.
"Of course, Mr. Castle." She handed him a key card. "This is for the Onyx Room, on the third floor."
"Thank you, Vivian."
He crowded her against the wall the moment the elevator door closed, his arms surrounding her, his hips rocking against hers so she could feel the growing bulge in his pants against her, almost where she wanted him. His lips lowered to find the sensitive spot just below her ear lobe and then scattering soft, damp kisses further down her neck. She tangled her fingers in his hair to direct his lips to hers, fusing their mouths together in a hot, desperate kiss, their tongues tangling.
The sound of the elevator chiming made them break apart, breathless, panting.
He kept his arm around her, keeping her tight against him as they half-stumbled, half-walked down the hallway, his lips busy, nuzzling her hair, her ear. He nipped lightly at her ear lobe, making her gasp. "Sound-proofing here is great," he husked into her ear. "So feel free to scream."
She bit back a moan and had to fight to control her voice. "Pretty presumptuous," she retorted, although her voice sounded weak and breathy to her own ears. "You that sure of yourself?"
"Oh, I'll make you scream, Kate," he promised. "Just wait and see."
The combination of his voice—velvety soft and low and husky—and his words made another flare of desire spark inside her but her only response was to tilt her head to allow him better access to her neck. Access that he was quick to take advantage of, his lips and his tongue skimming the line of her neck, pausing to suck at the spot just above the spot where she knew her pulse was thundering madly. She was vaguely aware that he would be leaving tell-tale marks on her skin but for once, she couldn't bring herself to care.
He broke off, lifting his head, and she gave a soft mewl of automatic protest that made him smirk even as he fumbled to insert the keycard into the door, which now that she looked at it, was neatly labeled as the "Onyx Room."
He pushed the door open and ushered her inside it, his hand wandering down from her hip to her butt.
She spun around and pushed him back to shut the door so they were finally, finally, completely alone and she could do what she'd wanted to since she'd first set eyes on him in the club tonight.
She kissed him again, her lips and tongue working against his with feverish passion, as her hands impatiently shoved his jacket off his shoulders and then went to the buttons of his shirt, undoing them with fingers made clumsy and impatient with lust but somehow, miraculously, managed to complete the task.
His own hands weren't still, sliding up her back, and she felt the way her dress immediately loosened as he unzipped her and then the heat of his hands on her bare back.
Well, that worked too.
She pushed his now-unbuttoned shirt off his shoulders leaving him deliciously naked from the waist up—mmm, the muscles of his chest and upper arms were beautifully developed—and then stepped back, giving a little shimmy that had her dress sliding right off her, leaving her clad—just barely—in the tiny bits of black silk and lace that were her underwear.
He almost choked, his eyes flaring wide and dark as he stared at her. "You are so—" He never finished the sentence. She felt a surge of self-satisfaction and, yes, arousal, to know that just the sight of her could reduce him—a writer—to being unable to complete a coherent sentence.
He reached for her, his hands curving around her breasts, kneading, palming, his fingers gently pinching the taut nipples. Her head fell back on a moan as she panted for breath only to lose her breath again as he captured her nipple with his mouth, swirling his tongue around it. And oh god, somehow the sensation of his mouth on her was magnified, made more intense, by the rough scrape of the lace of her now-wet bra against her nipple. But then he undid the clasp and momentarily paused in his ministrations to her upper body to allow her to discard the bra before returning to pay the same attention to her other breast and she changed her mind. This was so much better when it was just the wet heat of his mouth against her skin.
He lightly grazed her stiff nipple with his teeth, as his hand teased her other breast, and she cried out, arching into him as her knees abruptly seemed to lose the ability to hold her upright. He caught her against him, his hands sliding to her hips to lift her up as he carried her the few steps to the large bed that dominated the room—mmm, he was strong—and lay her down on it, his hands smoothly removing the scrap of silk and lace that was her underwear once he did so.
Once she was completely bared to his gaze—and his hands and his mouth—he drifted downwards, scattering a trail of kisses down her stomach, pausing to press a damp, lingering kiss just above her navel, and then lower still, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to her hipbone.
"You have a tattoo," he murmured against her skin. "You are so unbelievably hot…" Suiting action to his words, he traced her tattoo with hot lingering kisses.
She gasped, her hips jerking involuntarily, even as she lifted her head, her lips parting on a protest. She didn't allow men she'd just met to go down on her; it was too much, too intimate, made her feel too… open, too vulnerable.
But before she could so much as manage a sound, his mouth was on her and her head fell back and she forgot her rule about one night stands, forgot whatever she'd been about to say. Forgot where she was, forgot everything except for him. He seemed to know just where and how to touch and suck and lick to make her entire world narrow down to him, to the sensation of his soft lips and devastating tongue and—oh god—the barely-there graze of his teeth. It was so hot and maddening and… and perfect… And then the world went white around her, her senses disintegrating in a cataclysm of pure physical bliss, and she was only vaguely aware of hearing the sound of a scream.
(He had made her scream.)
When she drifted back to reality some minutes—hours? she honestly couldn't have said—it was to see that he had stripped off his pants and his boxers and was finally naked as he joined her on the bed. And though she wouldn't have really believed it possible since she had just experienced mind-blowing release, she felt her mouth go dry with lust, fresh heat and moisture pooling between her legs. He was big… all over… and… and she suddenly wanted to feel him inside her, filling her, more than she wanted her next breath.
She reached for him impatiently, sliding one arm around his neck while her other hand greedily explored the planes of his chest and his stomach, mapping the muscles of his pectorals, until he groaned. She wanted to spend longer appreciating his chest and broad shoulders but forwent that pleasure to tug him closer so their bare chests were pressed together, the skin to skin contact drawing a purr of pure sensual pleasure from her throat.
His arousal brushed against her thigh and she arched her hips, undulating beneath him until he was brushing against her, right where she wanted him.
And then finally, he slid into her and she gasped at the sensation of his hot, hard length filling her, stretching her, and oh, it was just exactly what she wanted. He was exactly what she wanted, the fuzzy thought drifted into her mind and then out again, her brain going blissfully blank as he began to move.
His hands returned to her breasts, kneading, shaping, circling her nipples.
She mewled and clutched him to her, her legs wrapping around his hips, urging him deeper inside her. He took the hint, one of his hands wrapping around her thigh and tugging it higher still, the change of angle giving her pressure right where she needed it.
She fought for breath and was peripherally aware of hearing a long string of moans. Ohgodohgodyeslikethat…
"You are so gorgeous," he panted against her skin. "So incredibly sexy, every part of you… Feel so good… wet and tight and perfect…"
She'd never been one to like conversation during sex but oh, the low, husky sound of his voice was somehow doing it for her, shooting additional bolts of arousal sizzling along her nerve endings.
"Oh god… Kate…"
It might have been the sound of her name that pushed her over the edge, the tension and pleasure building inside her imploding, stars bursting behind her eyelids, and she wasn't even aware of crying out, "Castle!"
He followed her with a couple last, hard thrusts, spilling into her with a deep, guttural groan and a shudder that rippled through his entire body before he collapsed on top of her in a boneless heap.
She slid into the golden bliss of the aftermath, savoring the stunning pleasure of it, cataloging the moment in a purely sensual, physical way that was entirely divorced from conscious thought. His gasps for breath against her ear. His body on top of hers. The warmth and strength of his arms around her. His heartbeat pounding against her breasts. The delicious intimacy of his body still inside her.
Just when she started to feel aware of how heavy he was, as if he sensed it, he stirred, rolling over onto his back. He kept his arm around her, bringing her with him, until she found herself half-sprawled over him, her legs tangled with his. She rested her head against his shoulder and let herself drift, feeling him lightly combing his fingers through her hair.
She wasn't sure how long they lay there in satiated silence, the sheen of sweat drying on their bodies, before he mumbled, still a little breathlessly, "That was amazing."
"Mmm."
He was silent for another few minutes—hours?—while she started tracing small, idle patterns on his bare shoulder with her fingers. Or at least, it started idly and then after a while, she realized that she was tracing the letters K and B on his skin. Writing on the writer, she thought with a flicker of amusement.
"Kate?"
"Hmm?"
"Are you my Kate again or are you still the woman I just picked up in a bar?"
She poked his shoulder teasingly with her finger. "Get your facts straight, Writer Boy. I'm the one who picked you up in a bar."
He huffed a soft laugh. "Right, sorry. Are you still the woman who just picked me up in a bar," he rephrased. "Because if you are, I can't tell you that I love you. I'd hate for you to think I was easy," he finished in a tone of exaggerated dismay.
She turned her smile into his chest. "If you say the words, I might tell you that I love you too but you need to go first because I'd hate for you to think I was easy," she parroted back at him.
He snorted. "You're the furthest thing from easy. If anything, you're incredibly difficult."
She lifted her head, narrowing her eyes at him. "Oh, so I'm difficult, am I?"
His eyes widened. "Not difficult, challenging!" he corrected hastily. "In the best possible way! I like that about you. People who are too uncomplicated are boring."
"Nice save," she mocked teasingly.
He made a face at her. "We're naked and in bed together. You can't possibly expect me to be entirely coherent right now."
She laughed at that and wriggled a little to rearrange herself more comfortably against him before resettling her head against his shoulder in what had rapidly become her favorite place to be.
She glanced around, taking stock of the room for the first time since she'd been… distracted… when they'd first entered it. He hadn't been kidding when he said it wasn't much more than a bed. There was a small table with a bottle of wine and a corkscrew sitting on it, two chairs, and a mini fridge but that was the sum total of the furnishings aside from the bed that dominated the room. The décor was simple, even sparse, paintings of geometric shapes in primary colors, all under-stated, even neutral, definitely a space meant to cater more to men who only had one purpose in coming here.
A comfortable silence settled over them. It was peaceful, perhaps too much so for the absolute silence that made even the soft sound their breathing sound loud. He was right about the sound-proofing being state-of-the-art. Kate knew there must be other rooms on this floor in use; it was, after all, a Friday night, but whatever might be going on in other rooms—which she didn't want to know about—she couldn't hear a thing. She couldn't even hear the usual sound of Manhattan traffic. She and Castle might as well have been the only two people in the building, and the entire island of Manhattan for that matter, for all she could hear of anyone else. It added to the vague feeling of unreality. If this really were meant to be a night out of time, a night apart from her daily life, the privacy of the Varick could hardly have been more ideal. As it was, well, it was nice to have him entirely to herself.
He finally broke the silence by asking, some amusement suffusing his voice, "Tequila, Kate, really?"
She smirked a little against his shoulder. That had been a rather naughty impulse. "It seemed like a good time to reenact Page 105 of Heat Wave in a sense. Why, didn't you like it?"
His voice lowered into a husky tone, the rumble of which she felt in his chest. "You know perfectly well how much I liked it."
She turned her head to press a kiss against his shoulder. "Good. I'd hate for you to be disappointed in one of your fantasies of me."
"You're better than any dream I've ever had."
Her chest filled with warmth. It should have sounded like a cliché but somehow, when he said it, it didn't. She didn't know how he managed to make her heart flutter sometimes with lines that would have made her roll her eyes if anyone else ever said them.
"So are you. But then again, that might not mean much since I don't have an overactive imagination like you do," she added teasingly.
He laughed and only tightened his arm around her.
She felt him press a kiss to her hair as his hand caressed her bare shoulder. "Kate, as amazing as tonight was, I'm glad this isn't really us," he murmured after a long while. "One night would never be enough."
She lifted her head to smile into his eyes. "I'm glad too," she told him softly. And she was. If tonight had proven anything, it was how glad she was that she and Castle had met the way they had, that Castle had invaded her work and then somehow woven himself into the very fabric of her entire life until she found it hard to imagine her life without him. She would have found him attractive, might have liked him, but she knew herself too well to think that she would have grown to trust him. At best, they would probably have had a brief fling, a string of one-night stands, that would have foundered and wrecked because of her reluctance to open up, just like all her previous relationships had. The reality—the reality of them—was better than this fantasy. "I like knowing that you're mine." Hers, just as she was his.
It was an uncharacteristically sentimental thing for her to say but she was rewarded by seeing the soft light that kindled in his eyes. "All yours, Kate. Mind, body, and soul."
"And don't you forget it," she responded with feigned severity although the words were belied by the smile she couldn't help.
He huffed a soft laugh and swept his hand up the skin of her back and under her hair to cup the back of her neck and bring her mouth down to his so he could kiss her, slowly, leisurely.
She melted into his kiss as she usually did and her last coherent thought was that this really was all she wanted and needed. Just him and her, together, and that was all they ever needed to be, all they would ever need.
~The End~
Author's Note: This fic works as a stand-alone (at least, I hope it did), but it is also a M-rated spin-off from my other fic, "Diving Into It Together," although it isn't necessary to read it.
I hope people enjoyed this foray into purely plotless smut. Thank you all for reading.