To 4evercaskett again for the original idea, to gloria for the playlist of music i shall never get through in time and as always to diane who spends hours upon hours every night listening to me hash out details, teasing her with spoilery tid-bits before dragging them away...smoochies and hugs for you...thank you if you reviewed or alerted or messaged me anywhere. :)

oh and to alwayscastle...who yelled 'KATE' at me loud enough that it sunk in!


"I want to know whose name to whisper in the dark when I make love to you."

"Kate."

Yeah, that's what she wanted, her name on his lips in the dark. In the light of her bedroom, or his, in the precinct, hell anywhere.

It was definitely what she wanted, all he described in his story, with his dark and dangerous words, his rich enticing voice.

He thought she was a tease, but damn she had nothing on him and his stories.

She leant back further in her chair, her eyes still closed as she let his sexy, lingering, melodical voice wash over her again. With her eyes shut tight like this she could swear she actually heard him calling her.

"Kate?"

She may as well be spread across his bed right now, with her hair down and her arms open wide for him, the way he called her name echoed in her head and made every element of his story seem like a vivid possibility, a memory of something she hadn't even done yet.

He spoke, calling her name with such emphasis and need, like he wanted something, like he had a question he needed to ask her.

And she wanted to give him an answer.

Any answer, so long as he would hold her in his arms and love her, the way he loved her in the story. She gave up all pretence it wasn't them he was talking about, because she knew the truth. It was pretty damn obvious who it was.

She wanted the story he spun for them and she hated herself for knowing she was the reason they couldn't have it. Yet.

She bit back the bubbling frustration because it wasn't just the story, the love and the romance she wanted.

It was the passion.

She wanted the heated, hot rush of his breath in her ear, his fingers tangling in her hair and attacking the buttons of her shirt in a frenzy of desire.

She wanted that sudden spark, the one that he spun his story around, the one they shared but never spoke about. She needed it, required it, it was like he had awoken something inside her, some hunters instinct that made her aware of the thudding pulse and the desperate need to seek out his touch.

She wanted him to pick her up, wrap her legs around his waist and pin her to the wall of an alley, yes, she wanted to roll him over in bed and…

"Hey BECKETT! Earth to the mighty Detective… come in Detective!"

She looked up suddenly, starting in her chair, jumping forwards and almost falling onto the floor, it was only the fact they had been sitting so close together and he had thrown his arm across her lap that saved her.

She turned then, his warm arm still laying across her leg, and looked up into his face. She was confronted by his merry, dancing eyes, an eyebrow quirked above and a massive grin of understanding.

Oh he could tell exactly what she had been thinking.

"I knew I was good but, damn Beckett! Where the hell did you go?"

She flushed bright red, pushing his arm off of her legs as she jumped up from her chair, the backs of her thighs colliding with the seat sending it backwards hard, she heard the crash and felt it rebound as it ricocheted off her desk.

She turned away from him, unable to deal with his prying eyes, his knowing smile, she strode across the precinct running her fingers through her hair, hating the way he made her feel flustered, loving it too, but he was infuriating.

"Beckett?" He called confused. She heard him stand, knew he wanted to follow her.

When she didn't stop he tried again, she heard his feet moving as he skipped to catch up with her

"Hey Kate?"

"Coffee Castle." She called over her shoulder without turning, she couldn't meet his eyes just yet, just…not yet.

She tugged at the loose curls around her face, yanked them up and out of her way as she remembered him describing the couple in the alley. It wasn't fair they could act with such abandon, such freedom of conscience and she was…

She slammed the cup under the steamer of the coffee machine and waited her foot tapping angrily on the floor. She ran her hand over her eyes pressing hard, trying to rub away some of the annoyance.

The way he spoke about the couples connection in the story, the way he had held her in the alley, she could have sworn she felt his fingers on her waist.

When the couple in the journal had ignored all signs of danger and gotten lost in each other, when they had been pinned against the wall, when his hands had started to roam her body to calm her down, she could have sworn she felt every touch.

He had a writers imagination, sure, it was amazing, it was brilliant and explosive and he spun the stories, but she, she was a reader, and he should know by now, you don't mess with the imagination of an avid reader.

If anyone could create their own world and spin off from the words they were given, it was someone who spent their life getting lost in the pages of books for escapism, it was her.

The minute he started describing the touches between the pair in his tale she could feel every movement, every warm lingering look, every breath of air against heated skin.

After all she had something to build her imaginings on.

She had their undercover kiss as reference for his lips against her skin, for the tingling hot breath against the soft expanse of her cheek.

She could close her eyes and feel his fingers sliding through her hair, gliding over her scalp as he pulled her in close. She could feel the thumb across her jaw, gently skirting her ear, as he chanced his luck, took the risk and guided her towards him.

She knew the moan from the story all too well, because it was hers, she thought she had hidden it, that it had slipped past him in the heat of the moment, clearly not. It was vivid and real and he recalled it in detail and used it against her.

She hit a button on the coffee machine realising she had been standing staring at it for far too long, no coffee had magically appeared, and time was ticking away.

Hitting the machine with more force than was honestly necessary, groaning as her hand collided with it before stepping back and wrapping her arms around her elbows, pulling herself in tight.

She brought one hand up to her mouth, touching her lips in remembrance.

She was an idiot.

She had gotten so lost in the story because she had the memory of his touch all too clearly burned into her mind.

She had the whispered confession of love dancing around her head like it was stuck on repeat on the worlds cruellest play list.

She picked up the still empty coffee cup from the stand, giving up all pretence of attempting to make herself the life preserver of a drink.

Tapping the side of the cup with her finger nail she leant against the counter top and meandered her way back through his story.

She had the closeness of his arms wrapped around her in a freezer, the tender touches to her face, brushing aside her hair when he thought she was dying.

She had his body under her, over her, wrapped together when he was handcuffed to her in a bed, and all the times he had hugged her when they survived anything, everything.

She had the memories to mix with the fantasy and it made it so easy to put herself in the story. She had every single one of them, and it wasn't enough.

And it really pissed her off he had stopped dead where he had, just because she had apparently gone a bit glassy eyed listening to him.

Listening to him was the problem, his voice was too inviting, if she had been reading she wouldn't have gotten so…involved.

She knew it wasn't true of course, she got so easily lost in all his words, spoken, written even the random text messages she would receive, so listening to him wasn't really the problem.

Actually, listening to him was a…pretty big turn on and she started to wonder if there was some way of getting a recording of him reading to take home. She smiled as she thought about bugging her desk to capture his voice, how much he would get off on knowing she had formed this weird spy-like plan in her head.

Maybe she could just convince him to voice audio books she could listen to in bed until she had the real thing snuggled next to her, reading, talking, touching and teasing, fanta….

"Hey Beckett." He said quietly, appearing from nowhere, she caught her body's instinctive reflex, forcing aside the need to jump, somehow managing to still the movement as she turned and looked at him.

This time she kept her face placid and relaxed, fought to give nothing away, other than the empty coffee cup she held in her hand. He reached for it, pulling it gently from her fingers and setting it to one side before replacing it with a proper cup, a giant, decent sized 'Beckett special' cup of coffee.

She couldn't help it, she smiled, at the damn cup of coffee, at him bringing it because she'd flipped out, she smiled.

"You ok?" His voice, that annoyingly addictive voice, was soft, and concerned, confused as he asked. Watching her all the while.

She nodded, because it was true, she did actually feel better now. She lifted the cup, tipping it towards him in a sign of appreciation before she walked to the break room table and sat down a little too heavily.

"Did I…overstep?" He asked confused as he followed her "I mean, you've read my stuff, I know you have," he leant forward and whispered conspiratorially "I've written worse!"

She chuckled, agreeing with another small nod before she said "No you didn't over step it was just…" she scrunched her nose before she let out a laugh "Why the hell did you stop there? Talk about leave me hanging."

"Ohh!" He said, his eyes getting steadily wider open, his eyebrows sliding towards his hairline, as he looked at her closely "You wanted more sex? Ok detective that's…good to know." He smiled as he walked the distance of the small room and joined her at the table, pulling out the chair opposite her.

He mumbled something under his breath as he sat down, something that sounded suspiciously like 'insatiable' and she glared at him.

"That is not what I meant and you know it." She rolled her eyes, pointed at him menacingly before dropping her hands to take a long swig of her coffee, hoping that by doing so she could hide that fact that, yes, that was kind of what she had meant.

"What did you mean?" He challenged, his head tipping forward in eagerness.

"I wanted to know what happened next." She shrugged as if it should have been obvious.

"You want me to carry on?" He raised his eyebrows with a sly grin as he leant closer to her, his arms folded across the table, he watched her cheeks pink up "From exactly where we left off?"

"Yes." she gulped around the word, squeezing the cup.

"You want to know all the…ins and outs?"

She bit her tongue, not quite deliberately, and took in the heated gaze and the steady rising of his lashes as he blinked at her with expectation.

Oh he wanted to play.

She set the cup down and leant forward a little, her elbows resting on the table before she spoke, pronouncing each word deliberately

"Every. Single. One of them."

Her eyes narrowed and burned into his, she saw him swallow, he fought it well, that sudden shock at her response, the thrill of the chase, but he was as bad as her in this little game they played, just as competitive as she was, and he couldn't back down now.

"What if it gets steamy?"

She licked her lips, twisting them to one side "I can handle steamy."

"What if it gets dirty?"

"Then I'll just have to take a nice long, hot shower to feel clean, lots of bubbles to wash it all away."

"What if it gets rough?

She slammed her hands down hard on the table watching him jump, she grinned, standing so she could lean forwards, closing the distance between them to breath into his face as she said "Hit me with your best shot Castle, I bet I've already done it."

He lifted his eyes innocently, before he too stood, staring her down "Not with me you haven't."