She takes him to the precinct on the day before Christmas Eve – a present to him of sorts – and he practically skips through the building with the eagerness of a child.
It's later in the evening, Montgomery has gone home and only the boys are left in the bullpen to greet them. Ryan is immediately shaking Castle's hand, gushing about his books until Esposito not so subtly elbows him in the side. Her other colleague is far more strict, skeptical of Castle and his "intentions towards her", but then they start talking video games and comparing schedules for a night of Madden sometime after the holidays. She doesn't know how Rick manages to play video games, but she's intrigued to see him try.
The boys disappear after only a half hour, Ryan heading home to Jenny and Sarah Grace, Esposito heading down to the gym, and Kate takes Rick on the official tour. She knows he can only imagine her workplace, but excitement still seems to flood through his veins at the mere atmosphere of a real police station.
"This is so cool," he whispers while she leads him out of the break room, back to her desk. She chuckles when he plops down in her chair, spinning lazily with a grin on his face. "See, you don't even have to get me a Christmas present, Beckett. This is more than enough."
Kate rolls her eyes and he seems to know, sense it (as creepy as that is), and shoots her his usual smirk in return.
"Can I ask you something?"
Kate props her hip on her desk, nudging him with her knee to alert him to her positioning. "Go ahead."
"I know shadowing you is out of the questions for obvious reasons, but would it be possible you could help me with my next book?"
"Help?" she echoes, tampering down the skipping start of her heart, and he sits up in her chair, bumping their knees again.
"I already have the inspiration for the character. She's going to be smart, savvy, really good at her job-"
"What is her job?" she interjects and the grin that flirts along his lips is sly, amused, alluring.
"Already asking for spoilers?"
"I'm wondering why my help would be needed," she counters, crossing her arms, knowing he can already hear the light defense in her tone.
"Fine," he sighs. "She's going to be a detective. Homicide, just like you, but don't worry, nothing too similar," he assures her, instantly smothering the spark of uncertainty. "What I would need your help with is the police procedural type things, authenticity, you know? I did a lot of hands on research for Derrick Storm, to make it as real as I could, so I know certain things, but this character… she's going to be different. I want to do her story justice."
She nods, instantly berating herself when she remembers he can't see the action.
"I'd love to help in any way I can," she replies, taking his hands when he smiles and urging him to stand.
"You've already helped so much," he reveals, bouncing on the balls of his feet in front of her, but her brow furrows at his words.
"I have?"
Castle's hand rises to her face, his thumb skating across her lips.
"You made me want to write again, Kate. You're my inspiration."
The sincerity of his words has her puckering her lips to the thumb still hovering above her mouth before coaxing his hand from her face so she can drift in, cover his mouth with her own. They've yet to go any further than the heated makeout session they'd had on his couch last week while his daughter was out with her study group, but as Castle's body presses up against her, towers over her, her hips cant forward, the moan snagging in her throat, and she doesn't think she can wait anymore.
"Can we go back to my place?" she breathes, not even having to open her eyes to catch the hitch in his chest.
"You sure?"
Kate growls, jerks him forward by the hips so that their lower bodies clash. His eyes squeeze shut and he reaches for the cane propped up by her desk.
"Okay, yeah, we should definitely go back to your place," he decides, and she chuckles in his ear, nipping at the soft lobe, eliciting a low groan from deep within his chest.
Kate takes his free hand, ready to drag him along to the elevator, but his cane catches the corner of her desk, knocking his thigh hard into the corner, sending a picture frame and her elephant statues toppling over.
"Shit, are you okay?" she murmurs, fluttering her hand over his leg, but he waves her off.
"Fine. Is your desk okay? I heard something fall," he says, glancing back to the surface despite the fact that he can't see it.
"Just knocked a couple things over, you're fine," she promises, leaning past him to pick up the picture frame, rearrange her mom's elephants, but – something rattles when she touches the ceramic figurines.
The sound has her curious, but she figures the fall just loosened something. The elephants are hollowed out, so there's a chance a piece of the porcelain chipped and is now trapped inside. She'll check tomorrow, tonight she's too impatient to let Castle feel how much she wants him.
Kate guides him into a room he's unfamiliar with, but when her fingers dance along the front of his shirt, unbuttoning until she can aid him in removing the fabric from his shoulders, he knows they're in her bedroom.
Her hands span across his bare chest, the warmth of her palms eliciting bursts of heat that flare like sparks in the eternal darkness he lives with, and he reaches for the hem of her blouse, following the edges until he locates the first button. Her breathing picks up beneath the upward travel of his fingers, hitching when his knuckles graze the underside of her breast.
Her shirt hits the floor with a whisper and he can hear another article of clothing follow, knowing exactly what just fell away when she wraps her arms around him and seals their naked chests together.
"Kate," he groans, burying his face in her neck, tasting the heat of arousal on her skin.
Her fingers tangle in his hair and her spine arches when he explores the contours of her back, the blades of her shoulders, the expanding cage of her ribs with his hands. She moans, low and needy in his ear as he skims the waistband of her slacks.
"Castle," she breathes, his name reverberating through her chest onto his, and he carefully walks her backwards, lowering her gently to the bed when the backs of her knees encounter the barrier of the mattress.
He hasn't done this with anyone since the accident, but Kate doesn't seem to notice what he lacks in finesse while he undresses her, dragging him down with her and seeking his face with her hands, reclaiming his mouth. The sounds she makes are like a symphony that he dedicates to memory, taking note of every place that elicits a gasp, where to touch to evoke that sultry moan, the desperate whine.
But taking his time to learn the detailed map of her body is going to have to wait if Kate's impatience is any indication.
The growing heat of her bare skin, the stretch of her long limbs, are all pressing and moving against him, turning his veins into livewires, igniting flames that consume his flesh from the outside in, and he needs to see her. He needs to see the naked length of her body, the expression of bliss on her face, the color of those eyes he can never determine in the dark cavern of his mind. He wants to love her with eyes that will see.
"This is going to drive me crazy," he pants, outlining her body with his hands, feeling her writhe and arc beneath him, leaning down to catch the whimper on her lips. "I don't think I've ever needed to see you more."
"You don't need to see," she whispers, breathless but determined as her legs hook at his thighs, rolling them over. But he sits up only seconds after she's flipped him to his back, holding her in his lap, keeping the glorious press of her body as close as possible. "Just use touch," she mumbles in his ear, finding one of his hands at her bare waist, guiding it upwards to cup her breast. "Just touch me."
Kate wakes the next morning with Richard Castle at her side, still in her bed, still deliciously nude.
She grins, stretching in the soft light of the winter sun, and turns on her side to study him. Her fingers itch to trace his face, to flutter along the contours of bone and the smooth planes of skin, just as he so frequently does with her when he craves to read the expression she wears, but she doesn't want to wake him, not yet. She kept him up late after all, wore him out well into the early morning hours.
She eases a leg over his thigh, soaking up the warmth of his skin in the chilly apartment, and hums to herself in contentment. The blindfold she had worn last night during round three hangs from her bedpost, making the idea of going back to sleep impossible. It was a feat of trust to give up her sight, but it had been so invigorating to rely only on the sensation of touch, to have her connection with him strengthened and intensified. She knows he still struggles with the limitations of his blindness, but last night… last night he had proven what she's always known.
That it doesn't change anything for her, not in bed, not in life.
"You are thinking way too hard for this early in the morning," he yawns and Kate smiles, giddy with her own revelation.
"How do you know it's early?" she teases, finally giving into the urge to stroke her index finger along the sharp slope of his nose.
He blinks, crosses his eyes as if he can see the digit skating along his nose, and she laughs quietly, props herself up on an elbow to lean forward and peck the chapped skin of his lips.
"Body clock, Beckett," he shrugs, lifting a hand to sift through her tangled hair. "A few months after the accident, I started waking up at 5 a.m. like clockwork. So, tell me I'm wrong."
Her eyes dart to the phone on her nightstand, alight with a new text message from Lanie, and she catches the numbers atop the screen, bites her lip.
His lips spread into a grin that she smothers with her own, nipping his bottom lip and clenching her thighs around his so that he grunts beneath her.
"Usually, I just go back to sleep," he murmurs around the firm press of her mouth. "But I think this morning will be different."
Kate rolls her hips in affirmation and Castle hauls her close just before he flips her over, pinning her to the mattress, pressing her down, drawing out a beautiful riot of sensation. She curls her legs at his waist, tugging him down even as she arches up to meet the seal of his body over hers.
"Time for a new morning routine, Castle."