Gates will probably be in their space before Castle has a chance to touch Beckett again. He knows Kate wants to say something, and he wants to make verbal suggestions too, but her proximity on that motorbike had been too much to take. One of them had to make the first move before either hell froze over or Captain Miti Gates smiled, and as both of those options weren't about to happen any time soon, Castle had simply gone for it.

He'd weighed up his options. Kate could have either elbowed backwards and broken his rib, or reciprocate his touch. It was worth the risk. Castle had plenty of other ribs and only one cop preening on her machine within stroking distance. Once the leather had infiltrated his nostrils and her hair had slipped out of its helmet in front of his eyes, he'd been hard-pressed not to force the issue and demand she turn the bike around. It's a beautiful day to ride somewhere close by, get naked by a body of water, run his hands through the hair he's wanted to fist and caress if for so, so long ...

But it goes nowhere. He barely gets to mesh his lips against hers before the command of Miti Gates can no longer be ignored. He could feel Kate's response. Although the entire kiss lasted less than ten seconds, she'd moved her body close enough — postured definitely enough — to cause a ripple of thrill through his system. Technically, he'd been almost straddling him, and this alone is enough to encourage him to make another move before the day is over.

To think that it's only the second time they've locked lips! As they walk towards the lower precinct doors, Castle marvels at the physical restraint he's shown over the three years of their partnership. And Beckett's too. In his head, she's like a dormant volcano, a sleeping dragon. Castle can taste the sexual edginess, the Beckett want and need that she cups close to her breast, like the tightest of lacy bras. If she'll only allow herself that freedom of movement, the access of hands probing the catch of her underwear, then she'll break free with the bounce of—

'Everything okay, bro?'

He and Esposito are walking two paces behind Kate through the parking bays. Castle knows he's been caught checking out Beckett's leather and lower, but he's not in the mood to be embarrassed today. It is what it is. Esposito's just witness motorcycling in flagrante delicto and if he wants to stir the pot, tease a bit, then Castle's up to it. He's up to it, and more.

He'll admit everything.

'Great. Yeah, I'm great thanks,' he replies, arching an eyebrow and grin towards Esposito.

'Good. You're gonna need to be when you get to Gates. She's got it in for all of us this morning, and you're not her favourite.'

Castle shrugs. The movement feels fantastic as an entire dump of adrenalin and testosterone floods his body and buffers his resolve. 'Don't care. I only want one favourite in the precinct. Gates was never open to me.'

Kate gets to the door first, swings it open and lets herself through. She stops to hold it for them both and Castle, seeing another opportunity to brush against her, waves Esposito to go before him. He doesn't, electing to prop and chat.

'Aww, Castle. I didn't know you were making a play for me as your favourite. That's so sweet.' Esposito lowers his voice but Castle knows Beckett can hear everything being said. She's less than five feet away. 'Doesn't explain why you were sharing tongue time with Beckett on her bike.'

'Hey? Espo—'

'How do you think that makes me feel, bro?'

Not only does Esposito cut across Beckett's attempted putdown and ignore her death glare, he reaches up to touch Castle's cheek in an affectionate tease as he backs through the door, making it impossible for Castle to do or say anything to Beckett. As the car park door closes, they stand three abreast, watching the overhead lights tell them that the elevator is nearly there.

'For the record, Castle, I don't want romance on a motorbike,' says Javier, standing between Kate and Rick, playfully nudging the bigger man just below the ribs. 'I want dinner and dancing if I'm gonna commit to being your favourite.'

Castle squashes a grin, feeling the heat coming from Beckett over the finely-cropped skull of Esposito. He is just about to reply with witty repartee when Kate says something that makes his entire mouth cake, his legs goo, his hair stand on end.

'Maybe if you paid more attention to dinner and dancing with Dr Parish, you'd not be looking to steal my romance on a motorbike, Esposito. Now shut up before I ear-lock you over what's mine.'

'Um, okay. But Lanie never wanted to go dancing,' says Esposito, exchanging a look of sheer bewilderment with Castle, leaving Beckett to sigh and sink her eyes into the back of her head.

Castle watches, transfixed. Kate's eye action happens in slow motion and he has a second to wonder what it'll be like to witness that when she's slowly working her way up his body, inch by incredible inch, to a point where she sits up, basks her breasts over his chest and rolls her eyes in anticipation of—

'Let's go you guys,' she says in Beckett fashion. 'And close your goddamned mouths. Both of you.'

She gets into the elevator, leaving Castle to ponder what she's had for breakfast to make her so uncharacteristically feisty — in the best sense of the word — and how he can get his hands on some to put in her three-hourly coffee. Every day, forever.

Sharing the elevator ride with Esposito doesn't stop Castle grinning to himself or trying to maintain some form of eye contact with Kate, though she keeps her gaze pointedly downwards. He can see she's trying to suppress a smile, but when he steps half a foot backwards from Esposito, inclines his head towards her to steal some of that mirth or just check out her ass, he nearly chokes at her forwardness.

Or make that backwardness.

She mirrors his small step behind the upward-glancing Esposito and throws Castle a look so hot, he feels as though he is melting from the inside-out. The look touches his skin, it reaches his throes (of something) it reminds him about beauty and miracles and God, it makes him gasp so it's audible and attracts Esposito's immediate attention.

'Again, bro? You okay?'

He's not. It's hot in here, and when he'd said thatto Serena Kaye about her whip, he hadn't ever been visually seduced by Kate Beckett in an elevator. Until today. And they're not even going down. Not yet. The elevator is taking him higher than he's ever ridden in his life.

'Hey,' she says, randomly, throwing him a genuine smile that almost knocks his favourite boxers away from the top of his thighs.

He grunts against this ball in his throat. 'Hey yourself.'

There's a moment of silence as he balances against the upward momentum of the elevator. The fervor is pitched to a magnitude he's never experienced before, and that knowledge makes everything about his pursuit of Beckett that slightly bit hotter. Okay, a lot hotter,and he'll admit to pursuing now, even though it had been all about the waiting until this very morning. After her show of cards, Castle is throwing in his hand and getting ready to play for keeps.

He's been in love, he's felt the magic, wanted to preserve it enough to marry twice with the belief that it'd all last. But this thing with Beckett? It's already had legs enough to run three years, not without major hiccups, but it's still running. It's survived constant head-butting and bickering and near-death situations that have turned everything on its ear, but it's still breathing. They're breathing the same air, except when he feels her eyes upon him in a totally different way — then, everything stops. Especially his ability to draw breath.

This morning marks their first moment of intended, consensual contact, even though it only resulted in a micro-kiss. The buzzing in his head matches the taste of sizzle on his tongue, the hint of familiarity about how her lips feel against his own. The anticipation? The three years of want, and now the look that has sent his heart rate rocketing and his baser instincts hardening?

The anticipation is killing him. It's so unique, almost like they're newlyweds in the Wild West, or a courting couple in early twentieth century Ireland. Castle knows Beckett, he knows her and has admired her from afar, lusted after her since the moment they met, yet everything about her is so new. It's the first time he's waited for a person with such longing. The fact that he desires this woman more than he's ever wanted in his life is extraordinary. And Castle feels it everywhere.

Ever since she started playing on his sexual ball field (as he likes to refer to it) in that wonky period after she'd confided on the swing set, every smile has conjured new hope, every word exchange has been interpreted differently.

She's changed. So has he, and even though their hearts have been beating for each other for a while now, it's time to synch this part of his iPad to get them on the same page. He's all about the compatibility and—

'Castle?' she secrets behind Esposito's back. The elevator is slow, Esposito is ignoring them and Castle is sure Javier is smiling

He doesn't care. Instead, he watches Beckett. Leers at her, and plays.

'Yes?' he whispers, wondering how long they have left on this elevator ride. It's not enough, but oh, it stops on two and takes on four more people. Kate and Castle shuffle back towards the opposite wall to the opened doors, but Esposito maintains his distance and the four new passengers glance upward at the numbers.

Castle watches Beckett lean against the wall and envisages pressing her into a flat surface. Anything, really. The elevator confines, her apartment wall, the clutch of his couch, the give of her bed. It'd be easy to get her off balance, everyone always thinks Kate would kick his booty in anything physical, but his mass alone would ensure hard-won success. He'd just have to protect his more sensitive parts, but if he's reading her cues this morning, it's not likely Kate will be hurting him. Unless he wants that, but he's more interested in finding every single spot there is to love—

'What are you looking at?'

He's surprised by the question, but everything about the dawn has been so bizarre this far. He feels like playing more than ever before. Castle is happy to pitch, is no longer intimidated by the batter and has his curved ball ready.

'You know what I'm looking at, Beckett.'

His whisper comes out with a slight purr, a small growl. Even though he's sure that Esposito can hear them and that they're seconds away from the precinct floor and disembarking, he could stay like this forever. The leaning, the provocation, her eyes filled with everything from affection to the bang of lust. She wants him — that fact alone is enough to get him through the next thirty years of life — and he wants her more than his next ... his next ...

Anything.

'Tell me. Tell me what you're lookin' at.'

It's been a long, long time since a woman's voice could make Richard Castle as hard as a younger man in the peak of condition. He tries to think of the last occasion, but the moment her eyes wander to his lips, lower into the collar of his shirt, Castle realizes that thinking about his past is a waste of time. She's here, he's now. It's the twang of her words as she drops her 'g' endings to some expressions that has him weak at the knees, and she does it in more intimate moments when her cop defenses are down.

'I'm looking at you, Kate. I've always been looking at you.'

'Oh ...'

Her voice slays him. It will probably be like filtered charcoal through muslin in his ears when she's limp in his arms. In bed. On the floor.The idea makes him dizzy

So does her diabolical gaze, the line of her leather, the still-pulsing feel of her lips against his and that ghost of tongue—

'You guys able to drag yourselves away from your eyeballing?' asks Esposito, just before the doors to the precinct open in the longest elevator journey ever. Castle wishes it'd had been longer.He could watch for hours and holds out for the time she's in his bed — or he's in hers — and he has moments at his disposal. He won't be sleeping. He doesn't necessarily need to be touching, although that'd be preferable, but to just lay against a pillow and drink in the sight of—

'Coming Castle?' she asks, from somewhere in the middle of those pursed lips, that teasingly pitched smirk.

'Not yet, are you?' he dares to whisper right into her hearing space, so low that it's for her ears only. Kate's quirk of an eyebrow, the slight pop to her eyes and the faint stain of blush are her tells for registering his pitch, but her recovery is nearly as arousing as her physical closeness. She tries to hit him out of the park.

'I might have, but the ride was too short.'

Castle's mouth dries, but he loosens his pitching arm to strike out. 'Maybe we'll have more success on the way down.'

She's OUT. The batter is out.

Once the doors open, Esposito doesn't look back, and for an instant, neither does Beckett until Castle's words register and she's half-way to her desk. She stops suddenly. Castle is that one step behind, watching the sway of her lower back with writer's eyes, and miscalculates braking distance. He collides with her and his hands go to her hips to steady them both. His chin is at her shoulder, mouth at her ear and waistband conveniently positioned at the curve of her spine he's just been admiring.

Kismet. Fate. Message from the universe, and they fit together with a certainty that unsettles them both.

He expresses it by remembering their moments on her motorbike. She expresses it by continuing forward momentum, shuffling to her desk and swallowing audibly.

'Castle? You need to let go,' she whispers, turning her head just enough so they're almost kissing again. Not wanting to break the trance, to move anywhere but closer to another taste of that, Castle tries to assess the situation by using his sixth and eighth senses. His seventh sense is tucked at the front of his pants and isn't helpful due to its compression and distention at that very time.

Ryan's not around, he thinks Esposito is in the break room, and Gates? She's nowhere to be seen. If steam is coming out of Capt. Miti Gates's ears, then maybe she's down in the subway, making like a caboose? Or a train wreck?

'There's no one here, Beckett. What were you going to say to me? Before? On your bike?'

Kate sighs, but doesn't pull away. Castle doubts she's let anyone this close to her in the middle of the precinct, deserted or not, and this stirs his blood to boiling point. The need to get into her mind is paramount. Nah, the need to get into her pantsis as important, but he can't suggest that at work. Or can he?

'I know I distracted you before, but you were going to say ...?'

She turns her head, and in an action that has Castle to the point of tweeting omg, Beckett is in love with me today, she presses her nose against his, closes her eyes and grins. It's not as carnal as a kiss with teeth, tongue, tango, but God it's romantic. He wants to goo in a pint of gah, but all of a sudden everything is harder than packed ice.

She whispers ... and okay, maybe he can goo. Just a lot.

'I've gotta say a lot of things, but I'm really distracted. Today, especially, and that kiss on the bike? I really, really want to ... I just really, really need to ... Castle, I ...'

Castle feels himself strain. She's pulling him in, making him crazy, and he expects her to react like that time she told him she likes to do kinky things with her handcuffs. A total farce. A sexy tease. A way to light him up, only to douse him—

'That kiss, Castle? Um, how about we do it again ... more? That kiss, it was ...'

Sure, right. She's playing him now, working the tease. This is not really happening, Castle, she's not really rubbing her nose against yours in the middle of the precinct, at dawn, after kissing you on her bike and undressing you with her eyes in an elevator ...

Beckett chooses that moment to turn and back away, around her desk. In a series of movements that seem like the sexual dance of birds of prey, he follows her until her butt is pressed into her cop-chair. He props in front of her, she stands on her toes and stares at his mouth.

'More kissing, Beckett?' he hears himself say, and to his own ears, he sounds like the caricature of a burly, testosterone-studded manwhore. Inside, he's following the lead of his heart. And his cock.

'Um, is this where you start treating me like another one of your conquests?'

She smiles and runs the tip of her tongue over the bottom of her top teeth, all the while watching. His mouth, his eyes, his neckline, and still they don't touch.

'Is that what you want, Castle?'

'You know what I want. And if you don't know, I'm happy to tell you.'

Kate reaches her fingers forward. In a dalliance of touch against the front of his jacket, she traces seam and soft material. 'I think I know. And just maybe? If you want to? We could find some time today to grab a burger,' she stands in his space, shapes to kiss him, but brushes her lips against his in a soft caress of later. 'Or we could find somewhere quiet ...' she repeats the lip work and he stifles the urge to plunder her mouth with his own. He waits, she talks ... 'where I could show you exactly what I wanted to say ...'

Castle tries to just delight in the trill of mouth and mayhem that her lips zing into every area of his body, but the need to kiss her back — render her senseless — is getting desperate ...

'And what I wanted to do, Castle. What I've wanted to do for—'

'Detective Beckett! Oh, and Mr Castle!' comes a voice from Castle's worst Halloween nightmare. He thinks it might belong to the face from 'Scream' and the personality of Freddy Krueger. He reacts, but doesn't jump away from Kate. Later, when he reflects on how Gates has found them, he realizes how intimately the picture is painted, but by then, he does not care.

The space between their lips is minimal, their eyes half-mast, the atmosphere saturated with foreplay, five-play and promise. It doesn't take a bitch Captain with a pole up her ass to understand what's going on.

'Sir,' comes Beckett's voice from a spot near his shoulder. Castle recognizes her return to cop-speak, but takes pride in the huskiness that's rimming the edges of her tone. He doesn't look at Gates — what a waste of time — but spend moments watching Kate's face with his back to the Captain. Her eyes spark mischief, her smile sings about their day so far, but it's her demeanor that gives it all away.

She remembers everything. He's sure of it, and if she never admits to that fact, he doubts he'll call her on it. As long as she reciprocates every single thing he's feeling and grins at him like this at least once a day for the rest of their—

'In my office now, Beckett!' flings the She-Ogre. 'You too, Mr Castle, although, God knows you are the cause of this entire, ridiculous ...'

Gates's mini-rant, like Castle, is lost in Beckett's eyes. He moves to allow Kate to pass, but takes her closest hand from against her thigh before she leaves, bunches it against his own and lifts the knuckles to his lips. Old fashioned, romantic, but so sexy because it earns him a grin of pure knowing.

'I'm always watching you, Beckett,' he says, returning her hand with a small bow.

She nods, turns and sashays her hips with purpose as she leads him to Gates's office.

coming up: What will Iron Gates have to say about Castle and Beckett's precinct nuzzle. Will she harden up on them? Penetrate their defenses? And where has Esposito gone, is he sulking about what Kate said to him re Lanie? Who is the mysterious famous person about to visit the precinct and will he/she be a shipper? Where is Ryan? Is he married yet, or has his range of vests turned Jenny into a bridezilla? All this and more, next week.