Okay, that's it; time for some pillow talk. And sex. We've gone way too long without a smut chapter.

It was so late that it was early, the darkness serene and all encompassing. Beckett lay on her stomach, letting Castle write words on her back as she tried to guess them.

"R plus K forever." She said. "I swear, you are such a teenage girl sometimes."

"How'd you guess?" Castle sounded almost offended.

Beckett muffled her smile in the pillow. "The heart and the plus sign kind of gave it away." She admitted.

"Spoilsport." He said good-naturedly, flopping down onto the bed next to her.

Beckett scrunched her face up. They'd been together for about three weeks now, and she felt like she couldn't put it off any longer. There were things to say, things that had to be said, things that she owed it to him to tell.

"Rick?" She said tentatively.

"Mmm?" Castle replied. He tilted his head so that he could see her face. "What is it?" He asked.

Beckett rolled over so that she was looking up at his face – his open, generous, loving face, the one she loved beyond what was healthy.

"You know how… what I said when I came to you that night?" She asked.

Castle cast back to that stormy night, when a dripping wet Kate Beckett had shown up at his door and practically thrown herself on him.

"You said that… that Maddox got away. You said that he got away and you didn't care. You said…" Castle swallowed and closed his eyes, as if trying to banish the images in his head. "You said that you almost died."

Beckett nodded. "I did." She took a deep breath. "Esposito and I went against orders, which was why we were suspended. We went after Maddox. I fought him, but… oh God Castle, it was like I was a rag doll. I've gone against lots of people before, in training and in real life, but he just tossed me around like it was nothing. He threw me off the roof and left me hanging there for dear life."

Castle's jaw clenched violently, his deep blue eyes snapping and crackling, like sparks flying off steel.

"I just… hung there, and I thought of you. I wanted to see you, and apologize, and just… be with you. Castle, I wanted you. I even thought I heard you calling out to me. I cried out your name, thinking you were there because you've always been there, always. But then the person hauled me up and it was just Ryan. It wasn't you. And then it hit me that you were really gone, that you weren't there for me and it was all my fault, because I pushed you away and I hurt you and I…" Beckett's voice abandoned her.

Castle reached down and ran the back of his hand along her cheek. His eyes had softened but his face was still hard lines and chiseled stone. It hit him just how close he had been to losing her, no second chances, no do-over. Gone. He wanted to strangle Maddox with his bare hands.

"Well, I didn't really help with the flight attendants and stuff." He admitted. He'd been hurting, but that didn't excuse the fact that he'd been a bit of a cad.

"You remember a couple years ago, when you invited me to spend the summer with you in the Hamptons?" Beckett asked.

"Yeah…" Castle said slowly, unsure of where this was going. "You said no and I ended up going with Gina."

Beckett gave a single laugh that sounded a little too close to a sob for Castle's liking. "Right before she walked up I was going to tell you – I'd broken up with Demming. I was going to say yes to you, Castle. I was going to give us a chance…"

He stared at her. "You…" He cleared his throat. "Damn it."

"What?"

Castle sighed. "Getting back with Gina was nice the first week or so, but the entire time we were in the Hamptons I kept thinking of what it would be like if it were you. And after the first week or so… it was far from nice. I was just going through the motions, and I think she knew it."

His hand was still resting on her cheek, so Beckett drew her hand up his arm to his shoulder, reveling in the simple feel of warm skin connecting.

"I'm sorry." Beckett whispered. "I'm so sorry for everything, Castle, I put you through so much…"

"Hey, it's okay." He assured her. "If we'd gotten together back then we might not have been ready for it. What we've got now is good. I like what we have now."

Beckett smiled, slow and sure, the warm closed-lip smile that Castle had worked his ass off to produce. Every time she bestowed one of those on him, he felt like he'd won the lottery several times over.

Slowly, deliberately, Beckett slid her other arm up so that she had both of them wrapped around his shoulders. She pulled him down to her, tilting her head up to meet him in the middle. She was still smiling as she kissed him.

Many couples like to say that they have a song that describes their relationship and their feelings for each other – it is known as 'our song' or 'their song'. Said song is often viciously turned off when it comes on the radio after the couple has broken up, but until then it is a reminder of their passion and partnership.

Castle and Beckett did not have a song.

They were a song.

It began with a thrumming, like someone slowly plucking the strings of a base guitar, deep and resonant and vibrating through their bodies long after the sound of the note died away. It hummed in their ears, a silent melody that they could somehow feel if not hear, as they began to join together.

Castle took his time exploring her mouth, carefully cataloguing every inch of her orifice as if he had never done it before. Beckett hummed deep in her throat, the vibrations passing from her lips to his, their breath the beat of the song. His hands slid slowly down her body, skimming across her sides and ass, while hers stayed up top, burying themselves into his hair and massaging the back of his neck.

The rhythm picked up a little as their kissing grew in intensity, hums mutating into moans and breaths morphing into pants. It was all about the slide of their bodies together, hands on skin, hands in hair, hands linking together, fingers interlocking to twine and twist above their heads. The guitar notes were building, two or three notes resounding at once, lighter and higher pitches mingling with the deep and the slow. But it was never frenzied. It was not that kind of night.

Beckett's breath and the tune hitched as Castle slid into her, but everything picked up again. It was intense and deep, the notes echoing in their chests despite the slow rhythm they kept up. In and out, sliding together, the notes mingling and mixing and moving them even as their bodies did the same.

Without changing the rhythm or mixing up the tune, the music somehow drove them higher, the simple tones stirring them until it was like they themselves were fine instruments, and they themselves were creating the melody being played. It was as tight as finely tuned strings, their bodies taught, sliding and moving and carrying the tune with every sway of their hips.

And then the song ended on a final, low note, the vibrations humming through them, and they broke apart. They cracked like eggshells, pleasure spilling out in a white-gold flood that coated their systems, overloading everything and leaving them drowning and breathless in the remains of the song that they'd created, the lingering orgasm a soundless ovation.

They finally rebooted, lips and limbs loosened and limp, a few minutes later. Their ears rang like they'd been deafened by thunderous applause.

Beckett's smile was tinged with post-climax euphoria this time, but Castle knew it was genuine, so he wasn't worried. He grinned back, lazy and a little goofy. She was so beautiful, her skin shining and golden like oiled woodwork, smooth and carved by the hand of the Master.

"I love you." He murmured.

Beckett crawled slash flopped over so that she was completely cuddled up against him. It was breaking her number one post-sex rule (No Cuddling Whatsoever) but Castle had made her break pretty much every other rule in her life at one time or another, and she was more than happy to break this one for him.

This put her so that her face was directly in front of his. "I love you, too." She assured him, before cocking her head to the side and promptly falling asleep.

Castle stroked her hair. He hadn't asked for an explanation about that night, and he'd never expected that confession about the Hamptons, but he was glad that she'd told him. He decided that he was a thoroughly lucky bastard before following his muse into sleep.

Phew! I think that's enough hurt and comfort for now, yes? Indeed… I think it's time we cranked the dial up to 'angst'… mwahahaha…