Due to unforeseen circumstances I will be continuing the rest of this story alone and I apologise for the delay in posting, it has been a ridiculously long time between chapters and I will try my damndest not to have that happen again. I would also like to thank Jenna for her help with the first five chapters.

I have found my love for this story again and I am so glad I did.

Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one.


Chapter Six.

"There're other places that're better to go,

But I'm addicted to the red light show,

Feel like a King and she's my Ace in the Hole."


He's flying.

The night chill of New York catches at his skin through the raised visor of the helmet. It drags wind smeared liquid from his eyes, it cuts harsh and abrasive across his cheeks and his fingers tense against her hips.

He would worry about bruising, about the marks he's going to leave just above her waist, except she told him to hold tight. And when he wrapped his fingers around her, marvelling at the way his hands spanned the entirety of her narrow hips, and she leant sideways, taking him and the bike with her, she had yelled back, cursed at him "Hold on TIGHT dammit."

So he did, the tips of his fingers digging into the same skin he had his mouth on not so long ago, and as his pulse increased in speed, thudding through his veins, so did the bike.

But it's so very freeing and he wants to yell out. His mouth is open and it would be so easy to just let loose and howl as they ride away from the danger of the bar, and into a night laced with something else entirely. Something intoxicating that seeps from the woman who appears to the rest of the world to be thoroughly in control.

Only...

Only every time his thighs clench he swears, would swear on every cent he has amassed, he can hear her gasp.

Because he's flying, and she's with him. She soars through the streets of the city, curling under his fingers, tight between his legs and so very responsive to every movement, every tingle of the throbbing engine.

It seems to catch her off guard and it shouldn't...

It can't after all it's her bike, she knows the feel of it. She's a master of this molten machinery and yet she shudders against him.

He has intimate access to every ripple of muscle that drags and pulls at something feral within him. It wakes a beast that can do nothing but urge him forward.

Harsh and hard as rock at her back.

Castle could try to convince himself that her shivers are from the chill, the cold air whipping over her skin and the lack of clothes, but he knows it's not. He could pretend it might be from the thrum of the Harleys engine.

He could...but he knows it's not.

Because it started long before she threw her leg, long and tanned, tense at the calf and bare under his obvious, naked gaze, over the machine. It started before the walk through bar hooligans and before the deliciously deceitful grope in the doorway.

It didn't even start when his lips danced across her stomach and he sucked a barely there lime wedge from between her teeth.

It began in another time long ago, that internal shudder. From the very second they met and now...now they are flying.

Perhaps they have been skirting the clouds ever since.

Free and soaring over the concrete of the streets they call home, in wavering lines as she moves her bike through the traffic. She weaves and swerves, spotting gaps and lurching into them before he even has time to register the movement.

She's amazing, she's wondrous...

And she's revving the engine again, even as her body quakes through the vibrations of it, she can't seem to get enough, and they rocket forwards.

It's exactly as he imagined it. Maybe it's even better because in all of his wildest fantasies about being on her bike, never once did he imagine she would respond so freely to his touch.

He hoped, sure. But this?

She's flying through the city, Kate and the machine moving as one, leonine and fluid in every growl and curve as they take the corners just a little too fast.


The motel is dark, letters blacked out and Castles eyes flit back and forth, almost bouncing on his heels, it's seedy, it's...it's the wrong side of fun and it's perfect.

He couldn't have written it better.

The phone booth is smashed and there is an air of grunge and malice that hangs over everything. Yet Kate fits in so well, and he's not really sure how she does that. He watches her with avid interest trying to work it out.

She turns off the engine, dismounts casually and spins on her spiked heels to stare back at him as if she hasn't been a quivering mass held captive in his embrace.

"You coming Castle or does the night air appeal to you so very much?"

He nods, his lips moving to form words that don't come. To tease her for her reaction but he can't because as he moves to speak she removes the helmet and his mouth, already open, stays wide as he watches her.

She pulls it up, away from her face, puffing against the tendrils of sweat moistened hair that fall freely from their protective prison.

Her hair, beautiful and rolling unhindered in a loose curl from the black helmet. Cascading in waves of gorgeous chestnut, maroons browns and golds...it looks like silk. He remembers with crystal clarity that it feels like it too. Soft silken masses that trailed through his fingers, gathered and bunched within his palm.

He remembers it, will never forget a second of it and he watches her in fascination. She sighs, luxuriating in the night air that cools against her scalp, her fingers dancing through the hair until it's free and the curls from the bar are reduced to waves under her harsh dragging.

Her eyes slide shut with the pleasure of it, and he wants to offer to do it for her, run his hands through her hair, massage the nape of her neck as he lifts it away to blow against her heated skin... and hear her sigh like that all over again.

"Castle?" She tilts her head, waits for his response, her voice has lost that darkened edge, just a smidge, but the smile lingers behind her dilated pupils, and he nods.

He's coming, of course he is. She won't get rid of him easy now, where the hell else would he go?

They make their way across the darkened parking lot and he realises as they near room seven that she has no key. No bag and nowhere visible to stash anything, and his mouth falls open again. He doesn't even attempt to talk this time, he knows her too well, she will steal every syllable from his mouth before his brain is coherent enough to form them.

And the reason he knows this?

Her hand just slid over the edge of her top and dipped down inside her bra.


Castle hovers just behind her and Kate can feel him, hear his heavy breath as her fingers slide over clammy skin searching for the hastily stashed door key.

He's on edge and he can't focus, and she turns, her body angling to give her better access to reach for the key. Sliding her shirt low over the edge of her black lace bra she huffs and she shimmy's unable to stop herself, before she glances up and realises...she just sort of flashed Castle.

Her fingers close over the key and pulling it free of her ridiculously warm body she holds it up to him before giving a pitiful "Ahaa," of triumph.

It fails to lighten the mood though and she watches as he has to swallow thickly. Kate pulls her lips between her teeth and bites down hard watching his Adam's apple bob in appreciation and she has to fight back the image of her skin, soft, rippling and smooth, under his face, beneath his mouth.

His tongue…

But she can't let herself think about that, not when they are here, like some dirty one night stand in a cheap motel...and she still needs to call Gates.

She exhales, long and slow as she pushes against the door.

He follows wordlessly and she feels him watch every step, take in every detail of the room. She moves fast and before he is barely through the door she has already crossed the small room heading for the two seater couch.

"Cosy." He observes, and she catches his eye across the room as they smirk at each other. She points to the door and waits as he closes it behind them, sealing them inside with the deadbolt.

"It's dingy and gross but...I've stayed in worse," she says softly, shrugging and she watches as his eyes light up intrigued, more fodder for Nikki no doubt...or maybe just...learning all the things. "Stories for another time." She smiles again.

She leans over, moving her bag from behind the couch and fumbles through the pockets. Then her phone is in her hand and she flicks her eyes to him, letting him watch as she screws her face up in disgust. "I don't want to call Gates."

He chuckles, and she sort of wants to hug him and hit him at the same time. Maybe press him into the wall, re-ignite that spark, the feel of the engine between her legs...

"Well I'm not going to do it," he scoffs, raising his hands and crossing the small room, heading towards her and the couch.

"Coward." She grumbles. "All man in the bar, groping me and...lingering with the..." She stops suddenly when his step falters and his head snaps up.

Oh she's stupid, so very stupid because it was dissipating, or they were doing an amazing job of ignoring it because it was easier and now...now that hum is back.

She might have been thinking about it before, but now it's real. She can taste it.

It feels like hot air exhaled across the surface of her skin, lifting the hair, raising goose bumps of longing, and electricity over her flesh.

He listens as she huffs, breathing past that flare of immediate desire before she swallows and pads across the thin carpet. She points to the TV. "The remote's on the table. I'm going to call Gates."

"Beckett?" His arm lifts as she scoots past him, sliding to one side to avoid body contact and she feels his fingers wrap around her forearm "About what happened at the bar, the body..." he swallows again "the body shot."

She shakes her head, "It's ok Castle you...you did what you had to do, you did it...well." His head jerks and their eyes meet and this time she swallows "I mean, very...convincing, you played your part well."

He nods "And I would do it again."

He would, every quiver of her skin was worth a little personal agony, he would do every single second of it again he thinks as he steps in closer. Kate drops her hand over his, her fingers soft as they move in gentle circles over his knuckles.

She lifts her head "And I would..."

Her phone screeches loudly in her hand and she glares down at it.

Gates name and number flash repeatedly.

"Okay," he says, stepping back from her, dropping her arm. He lets out a long slow breath before ruffling a hand through his hair. "How the hell does she do that?" He points to the phone stepping back again, needing a bit more distance between them as his fingertips tingle.

"I'm not telling her you're here so…" she trails off, moving towards the tiny bathroom for a little privacy.

"I won't make a sound." He zips his lips, and throws the imaginary key over his shoulder. He waits for a second before he breaks his vow of silence as realisation dawns "But?"

"Yeah." She nods quietly as she leans against the door to the small dark bathroom. Coming to the same conclusion Castle has reached, minds perfectly in sync.

"If she got Ryan to signal you to call her..." Castle starts.

"She already knows you're here." Kate finishes, and they stare at each other as an entirely different kind of tension seeps between them.

This phone call is not going to be pleasant.

She turns on her heel, releasing a harsh puff of a sigh as she goes, sweeping her hair away from her face as she moves.

Castle crosses the remainder of the small room and flops onto the lumpy couch, settling just as he hears the door click softly. He leans forward and reaches for the remote, the silence flooding the tiny room.

Her room.

He's in her motel room, hidden away on a covert undercover mission. A mission during which he got to ride a Harley and suck fake tequila out of Beckett's belly button.

He leans back into the cushions and smiles.

Screw Gates.