A/N-I am SO sorry this took so long! I hope it wasn't so long I've ruined it. I'd love to spend six hours a day writing this stuff, but sadly the universe has other ideas. I apologize in advance for any errors in this chapter. Okay, enough excuses, here's the next. This particular short story has about 2 or 3 chaps left. Thanks for your support, and your patience!

Post Season 3 AU

The Conspiracy: Chapter 4

Castle woke and tried to allow his eyes to adjust enough to see. He saw his phone light up from a notification, just out of his reach. When he tried to move, he felt something weighing on his left side, and realized Kate had fallen asleep there, cuddled against him.

The fire had eased, leaving nothing but a few blinking coals at the bottom of the fireplace that refused to cast any useful glow. His laptop had run out of battery and shut down already, so it had to be three or four in the morning at least. He shifted and reached until he had his phone, then slid down so he was lying more fully beside her. The love seat was small, and both of them were pretty tall, but he wouldn't have left that spot for anything.

First answering a check-in text from Alexis that he knew she'd receive as soon as she woke, he then tilted his phone so he could see Kate in the light from the display. She was deeply sleeping, her face against his ribs. He could not believe all of this was happening.

The night before, she regretfully pulled herself off of his lap, apologizing repeatedly for the fact that she was under restrictions from her doctors, but in truth, he wasn't sure he really minded. There were romantic possibilities here they may not have once sex was involved. He was pretty certain that once they crossed that line, they would have a lot of lost time to make up for. Kate was different from other women in so many ways, but he enjoyed the idea easing into this…well, whatever this was that was going on, and taking things a little slower (if a week could be considered slower).

He hadn't been allowed to openly express his affection before, so he enjoyed the thought of holding her hand, or sleeping with her cuddled against him on the sofa. Then she mumbled and wriggled against him, still asleep, and the feelings and sounds of her reminded him of all of the many, many reasons he was dying to investigate the naked, sweaty, passionate parts of their dynamic as well.

Exercising patience that he'd cultivated all these years with her, he moved his hand to her head and gently brushed her hair away from her face. Her breathing grew harsher over the next few minutes, and her mumbling, although unintelligible, seemed more panicked. She screamed his name and bolted up, knocking his hand and sending his phone crashing to the ground.

"Kate," he said, loudly affirming, "it's okay. It was a dream."

"Castle?" she asked, sounding confused. "You're alright?"

"I'm fine. We fell asleep while watching a movie, and—"

"You must be horrified. I should have warned you this could happen."

"Hey, I'm not horrified. Not at all. Did you dream about the shooting?" he delicately questioned.

"We'll talk tomorrow, okay?" she asked.

Before he could argue, she took his hand and led him back to her bed. Something about her taking his hand and leading him there made him powerless to resist. Sleeping on the sofa was one thing, being invited to share a bed seemed much more significant. Since the bed was in the corner, there was only one side to enter by. He got in and moved over to make room. Reaching out for her hand to encourage her to follow, he realized how much she was shaking. "Kate—"

"I need a few minutes, okay?" she quietly requested.

"Sure. I'll be here."

It had been naïve of her to think she could control her dreams. He'd gotten glimpses, twice now already, and although she wasn't sure how much he could discern, he probably had a pretty clear picture of the trauma that remained below her stoic surface. Kate sat on the porch, blanket around her shoulders. She had two secrets to tell him, two secrets she felt had to come out soon, or he'd be upset that she'd kept them hidden. Just their first day and night together had been so pleasant, and she was worried about what his reaction would be, and if her confessions would ruin their time together.

Kate wondered if he really understood how difficult it had been for her to call him after the shooting. As much as she wanted to handle everything alone, she'd become accustomed to having a partner, to having him as a partner. And the moment she reached out, he came and found her. Somehow, for reasons she wasn't ready to identify aloud, his presence made her feel better. She wasn't sure what it meant for them, for her, or where all of this was going. But she had no regrets about inviting him back into her life.

A text came through on her phone shortly before seven. She glanced down and saw it was from her shrink. Dr. Miura had gone above and beyond, regularly checking in on Beckett beyond their twice a week phone-in appointments. Had it not been for the doc, Kate didn't think she would have had the courage to call Castle.

It was a simple text, just a check in since Kate was far from home and because Miura knew Castle was spending the weekend. Miura never pushed her opinions, but was a master at getting Kate to open up, to talk herself right into the answers she needed. Kate answered succinctly that things were fine. Miura's final text reminded Kate of the things she needed to say. 'Unburdening ourselves, although frightening, can also be freeing. It opens space to deal with other things. Of course only you know the right time.'

Miura texted exactly as she spoke, without shortcut or abbreviation, and Beckett could hear it in the woman's own voice. As if on cue, Beckett heard Castle rummaging through the kitchen. She wondered if her secrets might drive him away, because she didn't want him to go. But it also wasn't fair to expect him to stay if she was hiding important things from him.

He popped out onto the porch and said, "You never came to bed?"

"Had a lot to think about."

"Coffee?" he asked. He held out a mug and said, "It's not monkey-peed-in-battery-acid bad…but it's not what I usually bring you either."

"Thank you, Castle."

"I'll make some pancakes, and—" he paused when her phone lit up with a new text. She could see his immediate interest in the sender.

"I'll help you," she interjected, standing, tucking the phone into her shorts, and walking indoors with him.

He rummaged around in the fridge, already comfortable there, and slapped a plastic container of strawberries on the counter. "Would you cut those?" he requested.

"Sure," Kate replied, nearly chuckling at the two of them making breakfast together. She took the berries, knife, and cutting board to the end of the counter with some water to clean them.

Castle was doing his own thing, happily chatting, whistling, and prepping behind her. The man seemed pretty damn happy, and Kate enjoyed her perceived role in all of that. She also hoped she wasn't going to ruin it. "Wait, wait," he said, hurrying up behind her. "That's all wrong."

"What's wrong?"

"The berries. You need to cut them properly. Allow me to demonstrate," he said, offering a flirty look over her shoulder as he stood right behind her, his arms encircling her. He covered her hands with his, and began instructing her on how to cut the berries just right…even though it was almost exactly the way she'd already been doing it. Her ability to resist him had been waning as of late, but the feeling of standing in his arms, his chest against her back, words whispered near her neck, was definitely hitting the right chords within her.

"A good chef tastes her food as she goes," he suggested, picking a cut piece from the board and lifting it to her lips.

She paused a moment, so accustomed to rebuffing his suggestions, but took the slice. When she took it, she flicked her tongue against the soft underside of his finger, not quite fully sucking but enough to zap his senses. She'd always enraptured him most by subtle actions, so that quick glance of a tongue on his skin made his other hand cover hers a bit more tightly while a quiet "Whah," left his chest.

"You are so damn sexy," he growled. When she laughed, he continued, "I'm serious. You know exactly how to get my mind racing—"

"Your mind?" she scoffed.

"Among other things." His hands both moved to her stomach, pressing down her thighs before pulling her more tightly against him. "I can't wait for Friday."

"Castle…about that," she cautioned, slipping out of his embrace.

"What? You're…having second thoughts?" he asked, already appearing half-crushed while trying to look calm and cool.

"No! I'm not. I want to be open and honest with you. I'm trying to be."

"About?"

"I've been seeing a therapist."

"Yes, I know. He and I clash somewhat regularly."

"Not a physical therapist. A psychiatrist. We meet twice a week, video chat."

"Oh. Because of the dreams? PTSD?"

"That's part of it. I'm not as strong as I was. Not physically. Not mentally. And I hate it."

He came close again, his thumb brushing on her cheek. "Even though you feel like you're not as strong as you were…yet…you're still the strongest person I know. By far. Give yourself time."

"I don't want to spend my whole life being safe, hiding myself from the things that could be because I'm trying to protect myself."

"I'm glad," he said, appearing so desperate to beam at her that stifling it seemed painful.

"I am too, but it doesn't come easily for me. It takes work."

"Okay," he replied, his enthusiasm receding a bit, as if he knew she was still a work in progress.

"There's one other thing."

"Tell me," he requested, although blanching subtly with concern.

"I just want to get this off my chest." He gestured for her to continue, so she did. "I lied to you…after my surgery." She held her head high, facing this moment she'd fretted over.

"About?"

She wrestled with herself, with her well ingrained sense of self-preservation. Finally yanking the words from her throat, she said, "I remember everything. Clearly. I remember you pushing me out of the way. I remember the things you said."

"Oh," he replied, looking downward.

"I was scared. I didn't know how to react…and—"

"The thought of me loving you scared you?"

"Yea. A little. But what really scared me—still scares me—is what it could mean. What my feelings for you mean. I had just been shot and I…" she saw his hurt face, and took his hand in both of hers. "That was one of the major reasons I reached out to my shrink. I didn't want to hurt you, I still don't. I didn't know why the things you said that day impacted me so much."

"Did you figure it out?"

"I think so. I think it's because…this could be something real. I've never known a man so well or let him know me this well, and that was before we even started dating. You matter to me in so many ways that the thought of losing that…of losing you…I'm not good at long term relationships. And if I lose you, I lose a friend, and a partner and, well…you. And I thought if we were going to pursue this, I wanted to be sure. I just wasn't ready to deal with the things you said. Not then."

"A lot happened to you that day," he said, trying to sound understanding. "I'm sure it was overwhelming."

"I am sorry that I lied. I was a mess. I was heavily medicated, I was still dating Josh at the time and I needed to take care of that."

"I understand."

"You're important to me, Castle. Important enough to do things right."

He finally smiled, a little.

"But the doc helped me figure out some stuff. She helped me realize why it scared me. She helped me realize what you mean to me. And that…still scares me." She chuckled softly. "You could hurt me in a way that I don't usually allow people to hurt me. My heart is on the line with you and I can't keep the distance I usually like to keep. I don't like admitting that. I don't like being vulnerable. And I haven't allowed myself to be open, truly open, I think since my mom was killed. Pretty much my entire adult life. I don't even know if I can really be open."

"Why are you trying now?" he asked, shrouded in empathy and interest.

"Because…you're worth it. And so am I."

"I'm worth it?" he said, his grin showing through.

"You have a wild imagination, a knack for speculation that sometimes drives me insane, and no one, and I mean NO ONE, knows how to push my buttons like you do. You're ridiculous, and silly…and sometimes, that's exactly what I need. And at the same time, you're loyal, devoted, and even brilliant on occasion," she said as she smirked playfully. "You'd do anything for the people you care about, risk it all. And when you need to, you can be serious, and protective. And you have been there for me."

"Sounds like it might be worth the risk."

"For me, sure. But I'm not sure if it's worth it to you. I'm really messed up, Castle. Too used to being on my own. Not good at being open. My relationships don't last. I'm trying, but I don't want to lose what we have."

"You could say the same about me. I have a couple of failed marriages behind me, and a history with women that you may not be very fond of. But this, you and me, it's different for me, too. It's been worth waiting for. And still is. And the fact that you don't want to lose me, that you're trying to be open, hell, even the fact that you called me, you chose to reach out to me…all that makes me feel like we have a chance. It's a chance I'm willing to take. And even though you may not be quite ready…I still feel the same as I did that day. Not that we have to talk about it right now. I just want you to know that I'm still right here, and my feelings… haven't changed."

The sky was dim and overcast in the evening, foretelling rain in the future, but for the time everything was still. Although the clouds were swelling with potential, there weren't any rain drops, or even winds rustling the trees. It was oddly peaceful.

He wrote for the better part of the day, and Kate watched him when she could without being obvious. It was different watching him write than seeing him when he was working a case. He had that same intensity about him, total devotion to the ideas ping-ponging in his head. But instead of chattering away, he was largely quiet, living the scenes and dialog in his head and through his keyboard. She felt that it was a little unfair that he could join her in a case in those exciting moments of epiphany, but she couldn't be part of his work as the ideas flowed.

Beckett sat with a book she was only half reading between stealing peeks at him. Almost as if he was slapped out of his creative mode, he halted writing and stared at her with purpose and expectation. Standing and walking immediately to her, he held out his hand. She took it, noting his care and patience as he brought her to her feet. "What's going on?" she asked.

He nodded toward the door and the pair walked out into the temperate, quiet evening. Taking his phone, he gazed at the display, and she wondered why he'd insist on bringing her out here to watch him stare at it. But she heard music arise from his device. She recognized Coltrane immediately, and scanned her memories to try to remember if she'd ever told him of her fondness for the music or if he'd researched her on his own. Or perhaps it was yet another of many interests they shared in spite of the litany of differences between them.

He dropped his phone in his shirt pocket, speaker up, then swooped his arm around her and held her close. The moment was heavy with emotion as they connected, his face at first that rare severely honest look that almost made him appear angry. His eyes moved over her face before the expression softened into a smile, and only then did he begin to sway.

It was strange for her to allow him so close, to share intimacy in this way. In some ways, sex would have been easier. If they could have hopped into bed together, the expressions would have been physical, which was safer than putting her heart on the line. Although she still didn't yet experience the feeling of him inside her or know the sensations of his bare skin hot against hers, what was happening was truly intimate in a way she'd never had before. She craved more.

She didn't know how long they danced there, sometimes barely swaying, holding each other just so they could be close. At some point, the sun had set, not in bursts of color on a clear night, but simply the gradual dimming of a cloudy sky.

She remembered a time when it seemed his only interest in her was in bedding her, and back then she never imagined such tenderness could exist between them. And she wondered how much of it was that he had truly changed, and how much of it was that he had dropped some of his defenses to let his true self out. They were similar like that, she thought. Her defenses were built of walls, and his were built of cocky bad-boy charm, but they both kept their hearts safely obscured.

He stared into her eyes, letting her see through him as she offered the same openness. They heard leaves in the distance being tapped with rain and knew it was soon time to head indoors. It was odd to see him so devoid of playfulness or sadness, just a raw desire that was somehow so much more than lust. She found it mesmerizing.

"Maybe we should go inside," he suggested.

"Probably," she replied, taking his hand and walking backward toward the cabin, feeling compelled to keep her eyes glued to his.

They scarcely spoke for the rest of the night, although the silence was not uncomfortable. When the hour became late, she took him to the bed, waiting for him to find a spot lying on his back before she snuggled up next to his side. Bathed in comfort and warm feelings, she let herself be swept up with him. But beneath it all was the simple truth: with feelings so intense, this could be wonderful, a start of something new. Or, if it failed, it could crush her.

When Castle woke in the morning, he felt the frustration of their wait married with the satisfied happiness of his heart. They'd slept in the single most uncomfortable bed he'd ever known. It was somehow too firm in some spots and saggy in all of the wrong places. Yet he'd never slept better.

While they were making coffee a short while later, she said, "So…it's our last night together."

He felt like he'd been kicked in the head, gut, and testicles all at the same time. "What do you mean 'last night'?"

"Last night of the weekend," she explained with a chuckle.

"Yeah…no, it's not okay to say it like that." He knew he was being emphatic, but he didn't like the way those words made him feel.

"You're overreacting a bit."

"Am I? Because I don't think I am. You've been shot before. You've had your apartment blown up. We've been locked in freezers and watched bombs tick down almost to zero, Beckett. Bad things happen to you. Let's not tempt fate by putting it out there."

"Okay," she appeased.

"In fact…maybe you should come back with me tomorrow morning."

"I don't think that's a good idea," Kate said, almost too quickly. "I'm probably safer here."

"You're alone out here."

"Maybe I'm not ready to go back."

"Come home with me," he said, his touch running down her arm before he took her hand in his. "My building is secure. I can even hire someone for a few days, an extra set of eyes for the door. Just until you're back to 100%."

"If I am in danger, do you really want to bring that trouble right to your door? Right to Alexis and Martha?"

"It's safe for them there, too. We'd all be safe."

"I'm sure they don't want me there and—"

"Nonsense. They're both worried about you. They'd love to see you."

"I'm not ready," she insisted, a bit coolly.

It was clear she was done with this argument. He felt a mounting fear at her alone in this place. Although she'd turned distant so quickly, he could sense her attempt not to withdraw too thoroughly. She reached up and gently kissed his cheek to soothe his sadness. "Hey," she insisted, "everything will be fine."

"Right," he responded, attempting a smile that failed horribly.

The whole day felt a little melancholy. When he'd left home last Friday morning, he felt like they had so much time together. He'd stayed as long as invited, but Monday morning he needed to go home. He knew he'd worry about Kate every moment they were apart. As beautiful as the cabin was, the surrounding area was dark and isolated. At times he was certain he heard footsteps in the woods, even after she insisted that it was just the local wildlife.

He didn't want to ruin the entire day, though, so he tried to swallow his fears.

That evening he got a shower beneath the underwhelming spray. He had to duck to get low enough to wash his hair, and the water came at a pathetically weak stream, barely warm. And in spite of all of this, and the lumpy-yet-hard mattress, lack of WiFi and the amenities he'd grown accustomed to, he still didn't want to leave. At least not without her.

When he came back out, Beckett hurried past him to get her own shower without a word. For a moment he thought she was upset, then he realized what she'd done. Around the cabin she'd lit a few candles. The living area had another beautifully flickering fire. On the floor in front of it, he saw a pile of blankets and pillows, and a few snacks beside a chilled bottle of wine. She'd placed his laptop near the cozy nesting place she'd setup, presumably to watch another movie.

It seemed extremely romantic, especially for Beckett. He'd been operating under the assumption that he'd be the one to initiate and setup such encounters, not her. It made her effort all the more touching. He had a sudden idea strike about a chapter and sat down with his computer. He quickly typed a few paragraphs, and then heard the shower shut off.

When she entered the room, she was wearing one of his button down shirts, and he felt the automatic pant of appreciation escape his chest. The sight of her was fantastic, even though it felt a little unfair to see her like that when they still couldn't be physically as close as they both obviously wanted to be.

"I know that bed couldn't have been very comfortable for you," she whispered, her voice sounding like the auditory embodiment of sex and love. "I thought this might be nice."

"Very nice," he said, still attempting to mask his concerns about her wellbeing over the next few days.

"Stop worrying," she insisted, seeing through him.

He hadn't hidden his feelings well. "I can't help it."

"Maybe I could distract you," she offered, sinking down to her knees on the blankets next to him.

"Which movie?"

"I was thinking maybe you could read to me," she said, lying down behind him once he rolled onto his side. She spooned him and rested her chin on his shoulder.

He cleared his throat, remembering the somewhat steamy scene he'd been last working on. "Uhh…right now?"

"Yea," she said with a mischievous smile that rendered him unable to deny her.

He started to read, lacking his usual bravado, finding it difficult to decipher his own words through the cloud of longing that had filled his brain.

After only a few paragraphs, he felt her hand slide over his chest, fingers tracing his nipples and tracking unbroken shapes over his tee shirt. She tightened her arm around him, her lower torso and legs right against the backs of his, her foot eventually wiggling between his calves. Her touches took on a more massaging quality, and as much as he tried to convince himself this was an innocent interaction, his body knew better.

When her hand moved to his hip and slowly started venturing toward the front, he stopped reading and looked over his shoulder. Her hand brushed his cock, and he groaned from only that scant contact. Gathering his resolve, he took her hand and moved it higher on his torso, holding her palm against him. He didn't want her to pull away, but at the same time he knew where things were headed.

"What's going on?" he asked, his voice strained.

"Nothing," she answered, endeavoring an innocence that he didn't buy.

"Beckett," he warned, ignoring her attempt at subterfuge as he set his computer down nearby and rolled to face her. "We agreed we were waiting until after your appointments for things to go further."

"Yea. But I thought maybe we could just…I dunno…fool around a little. I don't want to send you home all frustrated. Besides, I'm supposed to avoid stress too, and I feel pretty damn tense. So for our last night together…" anticipating his objection, she added, "…our last night here together this weekend, I thought maybe we could help each other out. It's probably not what we really want, but it's something."

He shook his head and said, "You expect me to be the responsible one and say 'no' to all this? I'm pretty sure the role of 'responsible party' is usually yours."

"Reducing stress is the responsible thing to do," she said, sitting on her knees after lifting his shirt that she wore to reveal nearly the entire length of her thighs.

How in the hell was he supposed to turn down the one woman he wanted most of all? He leaned back with his palms on the ground behind him, legs stretched out in front on the blankets on the floor so he could take in the vision before him. Every time he looked at her, he thought she looked more beautiful than she had the time before.

"Castle," she quietly persuaded, straddling his legs and finally settling on his lap. "Don't worry. I promise I'll be so careful. No fancy tricks, no intense cardio. We won't break the rules, not really."

"You're sure you're okay?" he asked, wondering about her motivations for suddenly moving things along more quickly.

"I'm fine. I just don't know what will happen. I don't know what tomorrow will bring, or what they'll find at my appointments."

"Wait, what do you mean? You don't feel well?"

"It's not that. Life is short, and things happen. Things we can't prepare for. And I don't want to count on having tomorrow when the only thing we know we have is tonight. I don't want to wait."

"That doesn't make me feel any better."

She held his face in her palms and kissed him slowly and deeply, and he immediately shifted his weight to lean upon one hand so he could free up the other to touch her, coming to rest on the small of her back.

"Look, I'll be careful for now. And if the appointment goes okay, I'll screw you senseless Friday night. I just don't want to waste any more time. I want you. I want to be with you," she grinded her pelvis down on him and added, "Kinda feels like you want me too, Castle."

"Wanting you has never come into question," he vowed. "Never."

She tugged up the bottom of his tee shirt and pulled it off him, her hands bracing against his chest. And then she paused. Her hips stopped moving, her hands remained in their places, and she didn't kiss him. Kate stared, waiting for a response to her offer. Finally, appearing dejected, she said, "Sorry, I shouldn't have—"

He grabbed her wrists when she tried to withdraw to keep her near, and he said, "You promise not to overdo it?"

"You have my word," she said, a smile of anticipation flickering before she nibbled her lip.

"If I give you what you want…you'll give me what I want?"

"I will definitely make sure you get what you want," she replied, her body pulsing over his and sending hot, tingling waves up his spine.

"I didn't mean that," he barely managed.

"Oh," she smirked, sensing incorrectly that he was playing a game. "What is it you want?"

"Come back home with me tomorrow."

"What?" she groaned.

"Please. You don't have to stay with me if you don't want to. I mean, I'd like you to, you're welcome to, but you don't have to. I could hire someone to keep an eye on your apartment if you don't want to stay with me. Your choice. I'll feel better if you're closer to your doctors, and your friends. I can check on you, I can be there, if you need me. Ryan and Esposito could be there."

"That's not necessary."

"It's not?" he said, frustration bubbling to the surface. "You just told me we should enjoy the moment because we don't know what tomorrow will bring. I know damn well what tomorrow can bring. I've seen what tomorrow can bring." His anger seemed to surprise her, and probably even surprised him, but he was allowing his feelings to show, no matter what they were. "You think I'd be satisfied with 'fooling around' with you tonight and then leaving you here alone where something could happen to you tomorrow? What if whoever shot you comes back to finish the job? What do you think would happen to me if I let something horrible happen to you? Especially something I could have prevented."

"I didn't know you felt that way," she said, her voice more sheepish than he was used to.

"I want to be with you…whatever that means for now," he whispered gently. "We both know how quickly everything can go wrong. All that I'm asking is that you take precautions to protect yourself from the worst outcomes. You trust your gut all of the time, and I think I should trust mine right now. I just have this feeling that I can't shake that something could happen. I know it's naïve of me to think that I can protect you. But at least let me try. Please."

"I'll think about it," she conceded.

"You'll let me know if anything we do hurts? You promise?" he demanded. He grasped her wrists and held them tightly against her own hips.

He could see the flush bloom across her face even in the fire-lit room. As much as Beckett enjoyed being in charge, she seemed to approve of his attempt at the upper hand.

His lips found her jawbone, and she instinctively gave him access. He could feel the grip of her hands on her thighs as he held them in place. He kissed so slowly, with feather weight, back her jaw, along the shell of her ear, down her gorgeous craning neck. Nudging his shirt from her shoulder with his scruffy chin, he paid equal attention before he worked his way one centimeter at a time back to her mouth.

The tip of his tongue tasted the center point in her upper lip before he kissed each of her lips with scant but slow precision. Her mouth opened in anticipation, tilting toward his to deepen the kiss, but he groaned heavily into her mouth, "Come back with me tomorrow."

His eyes met hers, and he saw the way his sincerity made her shudder. "I'll think about it," she insisted, this time breathlessly.

"Okay. Take all the time you need," he answered. But he tipped her head to expose the other side of her neck, and began the same veneration on that side, perhaps with even greater purpose. When he returned to her lips this time, he said only one word: "Please."

"Castle," she moaned, her hips moving and grinding down against his tented cotton pajamas. She managed to writhe enough to allow his cock to partially poke through the slat in his pants. When he felt her exposed skin against him, making him certain she wore nothing except the shirt, he inhaled sharply as his hold tightened on her.

Remembering the need for caution, his grasp locked on her hip and shoulder to keep her still. She griped disapprovingly, and he froze, his eyes heavy with the palpable desire that pulsed through them. Always aware of his love for her, he reminded, "Hey. You promised to take it easy."

"You're teasing," she argued.

"More like 'convincing'. Is it working?"

"You're not going to let this go, are you?"

He shook his head stubbornly, summoning more resistance than he thought he possessed to stand his ground.

"Fine," she sighed. "I'll come back. But only for a few days."

Castle fell into the layers of blankets, still pinning her hands against her thighs. The desire to grab onto her ass won over, and he finally let go of her fingers to allow himself to explore. She did almost the same, her hands grabbing his hips, fingers reaching onto his ass cheeks as they each pulled the other closer.

He didn't want to put his full weight on her because he worried it would hurt her wounds, nor did he want her on top of him, fearing that she would be too tempted to get caught up in the moment and over-exert herself, so he rolled them onto their sides as he fumbled for the buttons on her shirt. She grabbed the garment and clung to it like a lifeline, shaking her head. "Shirt stays on."

"Kate," he sighed, wanting her to know that scars couldn't possibly change how beautiful she was. If anything, he wanted not only to tell her, but to show her how perfect she still was. He was tempted to beg to have her topless, to see and feel her against him. But the tension in her body made her concerns obvious, and he knew too well how much this was still affecting her. She was still so hurt, and he could hardly take it. So he accepted her limits, nodded, and said, "Only when you're ready."

He slid down, kissing the lower part of her belly near her hips and continuing his descent. He could smell her desire, as he practically shook with the need to taste her and savor her in a new way. Just as he moved far enough to allow his tongue to dabble against the wetness that seeped from her cleft, she pulled away.

Immediately he suspected revenge for his earlier teasing, but she quickly moved so they were lying head to toe, settling down in front of him with her gorgeously enticing pussy just in front of his face. Although he couldn't see her, he felt her breath skimming across the exposed part of his sex. Simply knowing that her lips, Beckett's lips, were so close to his cock made his balls tighten, but not nearly as much as when she parted her thighs, bracing one of her feet on the furniture behind him.

She was open before him, glistening and wanting, and he needed no further invitation. He approached, ready to hear whatever sound she would make when he finally got to taste her, suck her clit, and he froze when he felt her hands grasp his manhood with determined tightness. He thrusted into her fist as ordered by innate drives more powerful than any resistance.

At first she pulled his member further through the opening in his pants, but that quickly frustrated her. Quite impatiently, she tugged at the elastic waist of his pajamas. He lifted off the ground to let her slide his clothes down off his hips, and then he frantically kicked them off the remainder of the way.

He couldn't see what she was doing, he could only feel it, noting the exploration of her lips, and hot trails blazed by her tongue that left cool, wet paths in its wake. He rested his cheek on the thigh of her lower leg, soaking in the closeness, trying to brand this into his memory. She began making a noise, nearly a whimper, and he realized she thought he was still teasing her, withholding contact to make her crazy when in reality he was just stunned, basking in a moment he'd craved. He finally touched her with two fingers, one other either side of her sex, and he pressed enough to part her more fully. He blew softly on her clit, seeing the way her intimate place pulsed with yearning.

As he began his explorations, he felt her tongue tapping his glans, her lips, soft and full, occasionally surrounding him and sucking gently before letting him fall from her mouth with a pop. Her fingernails scraped over his hip, her hand finally settling there and pulling him forward. Without holding his cock, her hands encouraged him to rock forward, her mouth meeting him with each forward motion and creating sensations that skittered through him.

He'd desired her for years, had fought his urges day-in and day-out, but the need to flip her around and drive himself right into her was almost impossible to stop. Instead he decided to employ the same tease, using his hands to bring her forward and give quick and intense touches followed by the absence of contact with each withdraw. Beckett was Beckett, though, powerful and decisive through and through, so she wrapped her leg around his head and held him between her thighs. He remembered telling her once, ages ago, how good she was at bossing men around. He still loved that about her.

His hand moved up her back, going progressively to her shoulders to encourage her toward him without forcing. Silently he wondered if she'd think less of him if he begged the way he wanted to. Almost as if she could hear his thoughts, she practically swallowed him in the next second, sliding her lips along his shaft. It seemed the time for teasing him had passed.

He'd never felt anything like it, such intense pleasure mixed with need and adoration that had gone so long unrequited. And even though she was busily working him over, she never lost sight of her own wants, her thighs tightening around his ears. He mirrored the pace she set on his dick as his tongue danced over her clit, perfectly matching her so their bodies were clear this was one act shared by two people.

As reserved as she could be in so many situations, her reservations wilted as she became more wanton, swept up with need. Her vocalizations killed him, that sultry, raspy voice hitting his ears as the vibrations amplified her touch. He felt his hips jerk, goddamn he was escalating too quickly, desperate to climax, and she backed off. For that he was both thankful and disappointed.

Her touches became loving, gentle, exploratory, and again he let her lead, taking her cues. He lapped up her wetness, loving how soaked she was with him, for him. He traced her inner folds, carefully tugged her clit between his lips as his tongue lashed against it a few times before letting go and beginning again. He took her hips and tilted her toward him, his tongue shallowly fucking her as she purred over his cockhead, taking him at similarly shallow depths. His chin pressed against her, hitting the bundle of nerves that once again made her cry out.

He had to be further in her, so his fingers displaced his tongue, two of them thrusting into her core and feeling the strength of her pulse. He found that perfect spot at the front inside her, rubbing that with the pads of his fingers each time he pushed inside, which made her breath and movements more ragged and unsteady.

His desire to be inside her, face-to-face and as deep as he could possibly go, filled his head and chest. Instead he accepted this somewhat delectable fate, and rolled onto his back so he could have better access. Her knees rested on either side of his head, that dripping sex above him. His free hand covered her ass, pushing her pussy against his face while he began a long, slow finger fuck. This time, she followed him, sucking on his cock at the pace he chose to move inside her. And it was almost like they were actually screwing. Those years of silent communication and collaboration, along with so much longing and delayed gratification, made them all the better at this. It felt good, so good, and at the same time made him want more, to imagine what it would be like to be inside her as far as their bodies would allow, to release his passion deeply within her.

Beckett emitted the sexiest, most desirous moan ever created, and he felt her insides cling to his fingers as his mouth never paused, lavishing attention. Her hand tightened around his base, her other hand cradling his sac, and when he realized she was coming, he lacked the ability to hold back or warn her that his end was slamming into him.

While her hips were rocking against him, she swallowed him up, the tip of him hitting the back of her throat. Her sex cleaved to him, holding him within. The unstoppable swell carried him as he emptied into her, and she never pulled away, never stopped.

He was addicted, entirely, to the taste of her, the feeling of her splayed open before him, no longer holding him at bay. He licked so softly, caressing with such gentleness as he let her coast gradually down, determined to lap up every last drop she offered. Her body rested entirely on him without resistance as he continued to revere her form. She kept him in her mouth as well, neither wanting this to be over just yet.

His tongue took a broad yet patient sweep over her when it seemed she was more receptive to touch again. Like gently nudging something delicately balanced, she easily tipped over the edge again. The aftershock became a quake of its own, striking hard and fast and powerfully as she held on so tightly it would probably leave marks. Not that he cared. Her thighs clamped down on his head, covering his ears so he couldn't hear a damn thing, but he could feel her elation from the vibrations where her ribs rested on his stomach.

She pulled away when she needed to, senses overloaded. Turning so their bodies were in the same direction, she cuddled next to him, still panting and sighing, and he soaked up every noise just like he'd savored every drop of her. His arm surrounded her, and he couldn't imagine any force in the universe strong enough to make him want to let go. He held her, encircled her thinner form, his hands rubbing the shirt that she still wore. He thought of trying to convince her to finally shed it, because he wanted his fingers on her skin on the caps of her shoulders and down her back.

In truth, he really wasn't certain the night's activities qualified as "taking it easy." Everything that had happened sure had his heart pounding. He knew he probably wouldn't sleep, feeling the need to monitor her pulse and breathing to make sure she was okay. The guilt that he hadn't felt while caught up in the shroud of love and lust reemerged as rational thought returned. Yea, he was going to have to stay up and keep an eye on her just to be sure.

"Sorry, Castle," she whispered.

"Sorry? For what?" he scoffed.

"I'm sorry if you're disappointed or—"

"W-w—wait. Disappointed?" he interrupted.

"I got impatient. It felt like we waited forever, and I didn't want to wait any longer. Probably not how you imagined our first time."

"I'm a big fan of impatient Beckett," he grinned. Then he added resolutely, "I'm amazed by you, always. I have no regrets, as long as you're okay."

"I'm fine," she dismissively replied.

"I'm serious…feel faint or any pain? Or—"

"I'm fine. Really. I promise. It's been months since I was shot…I really am okay."

"Well, I was impatient, too," he confessed. "Just to be sure, let's cool this off just a little while longer, until after your appointments."

"Sure," she replied, smirking in a way that made him relatively certain she was not going to be that patient. Her open desire made her that much hotter. "That was incredible, really amazing. But the moment I get the 'all-clear', we're going to the nearest room with a lock, and I'm going to hold you down and ride you so damn hard you won't know what hit you."

He choked out his words. "I can't wait."

Her suggestion piqued his interest, and his body stirred against her thigh.

"Oh," she remarked, teasing proudly, eyes glancing downward. "You like when I say stuff like that?"

His eyebrows waggled. "I love it when you say stuff like that."

Her fingers walked down his body, and he grew harder and longer with each step.

She questioned, "Or is it the thought of me on top of you that turns you on?"

"On top. Beneath. Beside…" His words turned to groans as she wrapped around him one finger at a time.

He began to move his hand toward her thighs, but she stopped him. "Just relax," she said, her tongue pressing up against the back of her teeth on the last letter, creating a sultry slight-lisping sound that had always stirred him over the years.

Firmly holding her face, he brought her lips to his and kissed her with the weight of years of longing. Clinging to brain function for a moment longer, he nudged her nose with his and whispered, "Didn't we just agree to hold off until after your appointments?"

"Yes," she nodded. The rebel behind the rule-following badge was a force to be reckoned with as well.

"Thank you," he sincerely declared.

She smiled coyly, gripping his sex a bit more firmly. "For what? Haven't really even gotten started yet."

"Not for that," he corrected. "Well…obviously for that. But…I meant for agreeing to come back with me tomorrow."

On one hand, his appreciation was sincere, and on the other, he wanted to remind her that she had agreed to that (even if it had been in the heat of the moment). He wasn't sure he was physically capable of leaving her up there alone in the morning, not when something in him warned him that it was too dangerous.

When she didn't respond immediately, he suspected she was going to try to back out of the arrangement. He kept their gazes locked, urging a response. "Kate?" he finally asked.

"You're welcome," she weakly answered, also seemingly a bit dazed by their connection. He very nearly boasted his success, because at least she acknowledged the agreement had been made, but he accepted his victory quietly. He hadn't anticipated the words she spoke next. "Thank you, Castle. For being here for me these last few weeks. And...for pushing me to come back with you tomorrow. I don't really want to leave, but I know…you're doing it because you've got my back. I do appreciate that."

He wondered if the words 'I love you' would ever escape her lips. It took every ounce of willpower not to say those words to her again, and again, and again, but he wasn't sure he could take the pain of speaking the words and finding only silence in response. They'd come so far together, and he still feared pushing her and causing her to pull back. Instead he sat up, lifting her and placing her in his lap, guiding her legs around him. She smiled at him, broadly, her eyes dancing happily.

"You truly are remarkable," he noted.

"You're pretty remarkable yourself, Castle," she answered sweetly before her lips returned to his.