Chapter 11: WonderDrug


Richard Castle opens the door to his apartment, to a very flustered, very irate, Kate Beckett, dressed in a signature dark brown, leather jacket.

He allows her to tread past him, and closes the door slowly, resting his hands on its frame before turning to find her with arms crossed. She stands tapping one foot, weight balanced behind her.

"Hello," he says flatly. Unsure of what to do with his hands, he loops a thumb into a pocket of his jeans.

"Cut the crap, Castle," she says. Uncrossing her arms, she pivots on one foot leading the way into his office.

"Can I get you a drink?" he offers hesitantly.

"No."

"I think you need a drink."

"I don't. I'm fine." She reaches the front of his desk and turns to look at him.

"That's funny."

She stands with crossed arms and leans back on his desk. She stares at him motionless, cutting through him with her glare.

"Did I do something wrong?" He makes motions toward her, gently walking across his floor.

"You crossed a line today, Castle."

He smiles casually. "I think that line was crossed by more than just me." He is careful before her; treads slightly to stand in close proximity. He can feel the heat rising from her, the anger mounting. He sighs. "You never answered my question."

"And what question was that?" She lowers her arms, braces herself against the desk.

"If you felt something between us."

"No, pretty sure I answered that question," and off his silence, "I felt nothing," she says cocking her head toward him. "I don't have feelings for you."

He smiles at her, reaches out to touch her hand. "You see, your words may say one thing, but your tongue told me something completely different."

He watches as the heat flushes her cheeks. She bites her lip pulling her hand away. Her chest rises and falls, anger falling from her features.

He smiles as she lowers her eyes from him and he turns from her to tread toward his leather couch. He sits.

"Come here," he orders leaning back, running his hands down his lap.

She stands stock still staring at him. Her heavy breathing causing her chest to rise and fall dramatically. She cocks her head, furrowing. Her face red, she flicks her fingers.

"That was an order, Detective."

She is taken aback and looks toward retreat, toward the door she has entered a few minutes earlier and questions her motive.

"Come here," he says again, this time cooly, the words tumbling out of his mouth seductively.

She flicks a finger again and treads toward him heavily, unsure of what to tell her body to do, how to react to these sudden orders from him. Her feet bring her to stand in front of him, blocked between the coffee table behind her and Richard Castle in front of her who sits casually on leather sofa, his feet flat on the floor.

"Sit," he orders, patting his lap, his eyes travelling down her slowly, resting at her hips.

"Sit?" she questions, hands pressed against her body, keeping him from seeing her weakness for him, the shaking in her fingers. That with any touch he was going to offer would have her clamoring atop him,
struggling for position.

Castle leans forward slowly, the creaking of his jeans on the leather sofa the only sound between them. Beckett pulls in a short breath and holds it. His hands wrap around her calves, fingers loose on her jeans. He runs his hands slowly up the fabric of her pants, gracefully, to make her shift in her stance in front of him, knees weakening. His hands take their time, running along her sides, guiding lazily to trace across her back pockets, thumbs entering. He pulls her slightly but she draws her ground, letting air from her lungs. Unable to control her own actions, hunger tugging at her core, she sees him smile and closes her eyes .

"Are you trying to seduce me, Richard Castle?" she asks timidly, cursing the hesitation in her voice; a weakness shown to him.

"Trying?" he retorts, looking up from her midriff to rest on her features, her eyes which open drunkenly. A hand travels, reaching inside her leather jacket to rest at the small of her back. He pulls her forward, more forcefully this time.

She abides finally, seeing that he is not giving up his chase, and there is a twinge in the base of her middle, causing her to bend a knee. She lowers herself, straddling tightly.

"You are far too stressed for your own damn good, Kate," he says cooly, fingers reaching in her shirt at her back, finding soft, unexplored flesh.

"And this is supposed to relieve my stress."

"If you allow yourself to give in. Yes, yes it will."

She smiles weakly, lip curling. "You know I can't do that."

"Can't or won't."

"Both."

He shakes his head at her, allows his hand to sit flat on the small of her back, fingers moving slowly within her shirt. Her arms braced on his shoulders, her elbows locked, she makes no motion toward him. She fights against the warmth, the lightning he is causing on her skin.

"I can't have you running around lying to yourself. It's unhealthy. To you. To me. To your career."

"Lying to myself?"

"Yes, about us. Telling yourself that you don't want this, that you don't want me."

"And what if I'm not ready for this. For you."

"Then say you're not ready. Don't stand there and tell me you have no feelings for me. It's insulting."

"And you're so sure that I have these feelings for you?"

"Yes. I do. Its as plain as the look on your face now. I'm positive. I can feel it in your skin now. You're trembling."

"I am not."

He cocks an eyebrow. "That mini make out session we shared..."

"I was drunk." She lowers her eyes.

"Drunk or not, there were sparks Detective." He draws her eyes to his own. "And then today... you can't tell me there weren't sparks."

She draws in a breath, unsteadily in front of him, shaking her to the core, fingers moving on her skin again.

"There weren't any sparks."

"There again. You lie. It hurts Kate. Please stop." His face falling into despair, she leans forward placing her lips on his, leaving behind a chaste kiss. Quickly, she pulls away before he has time to take a breath, before he has time to close his eyes.

"See, no sparks." She moves on him looking for retreat, pushing with her knees, but his hands run up her backside, thumbs looping into her bra strap.

"Oh come on, that hardly even counts." He pulls her forward. "You're not playing by the rules."

They look at each other for another heated moment, finally she brings her lips back, reuniting them. She holds a chaste kiss for longer this time and as she goes to pull away, he carefully slips his tongue into her mouth, parting her lips moist and full.

She releases another breath, her shoulders lowering, and gasps into his mouth. A pain in her middle, she shifts uncomfortably willing it to go away.

In her movement, he takes the opportunity to reach up, sliding his hands inside the shoulders of her jacket pulling the leather from her shoulders.

"Rick," she says hesitantly, pulling from his lips to brush her cheek with his.

He takes her earlobe between his teeth and suckles causing her to push into him, his hands running up her sides to hold her close to him.

"Rick," she brings her face toward his, meeting his lips hungrily again.

"What is it?" he asks with heavy breath.

"I don't want to mess this up."

He stops. Leans back, releasing her from his tight grasp. He sighs. "I know."

She reaches up to run a hand through the front of his hair. "I guess I'm a little frightened. I like what we have."

"But you want this?"

"I do."

"I won't hurt you. I don't know if I can."

She smiles at him. "I've really messed this up, haven't I?"

"I wouldn't say so," and off her confused look, "I'm currently being straddled by one fine looking Detective."

She smiles and giggles, her girlishness twisting something within him, making him hungry for more.

He grabs her roughly by the hips, lifting her, rolling her beneath him. His body is hot and heavy above her.

"What did I just say?"she questions. She reaches up to place her hands on his chest, feeling him warm beneath her fingers.

"You cannot be this incredibly sexy and not expect me to act on it." He leans down to take her lips, pulling away to take a breath. "It's simply not human."

She giggles again causing him to jump on her, hands moving beneath her shirt, slowly, prickling.

A door opens and closes behind them. Castle unaware, grabs at the hem of his t-shirt, and in raising his arms, removes it.

"Honestly Richard," the voice of Martha Rodgers comes from the adjoining room. "I don't know why I bother to go."

Castle reaches down letting his hands travel down Beckett's body slowly. He flexes his arm, smiling at her, cupping her knee.

"You'd think they'd at least want to hear my opinion," Martha continues, her voice fading in and out as she puts her coat into a closet. "They ask us to go, they say we're needed..."

"Castle," Beckett says, breaking their kiss. Her eyes shift. "It's your mom."

Castle lifts his head. "Really. You're playing the mom card." His face turns to disgust. It is a few moments before he understands.

The sound of glass bottles hitting one another and a murmuring coming from the kitchen. Martha's voice rises. "I tell them the lines don't fit the part. I tell them the lighting needs to move an inch. It might not be Broadway Richard, but at least they'd have the decency to act like it is. To strive for that in the least. This is New York City after all. This city demands it!"

"I should go." Beckett says wriggling out from beneath him. She grabs her jacket, runs her hands through her hair and bounds out of the room.

Martha meets them as Beckett reaches the door.

"Oh hello, my dear." Martha says swirling the brightly coloured liquid in her martini glass. Off Beckett's panting, Martha continues. "Did you hear me Richard? This is New York City. Am I the only one who realises this? Is it too much to ask?"

Castle sighs, reaching out to take Beckett by the hand. "You're not going anywhere."

"Really." Beckett smiles at Martha. "I should go."

"Kate, stay." Martha smiles raising her drink. "We'll make martinis and share girl stories." She looks to her son. "Richard? Where's your shirt?"

Beckett reaches out for the door handle, turning it slightly.

"No you don't," Castle says forcefully and swings her arm over the back of his neck. Leaning down, he effortlessly lifts her over his shoulder.

"Castle, put me down," Beckett demands, hitting his back with clenched fists.

Castle turns to his mother and reaches out, taking the glass from her hand. He downs the liquid in one motion. Licking his lips, he raises his eyes to his mother. "Mother. I trust you'll see to dinner. We'll be upstairs if you need us."

He begins to walk toward his stairs, stops and turns back to his mother smiling. "Better yet... don't need us."