A/N: Can you believe this is the 10th chapter? I'm going to have to fix typos in the morning because zzzz I'm about to collapse. Happy Friday, lovely people!

WARNING: RATED M.

Fantasy Fridays
Chapter Ten : One Way Mirror

It's close to midnight when Castle picks her up at the airport. New York City is alive with light and vibration. Kate hasn't had much time to explore D.C., but it seems more dignified than New York; a little less colorful. She's missed her city. And her fiancé. She glances over at him, mesmerized by the way he handles the steering wheel. She's usually the one driving them places, and she's never noticed how casually he drapes his fingers over the leather as he mans it with one hand. It reminds her of … things. He certainly does have talented fingers.

As he navigates through the ever-present traffic, she gets an idea. She thought she'd be too tired to do anything other than fall into bed - she'd even texted Castle from the departure gate to warn him that he might have to wait until morning for other 'activities' - but being back in her loud, pulsing city has given her second wind. She winds her fingers between Castle's, and he takes a moment to shift his gaze from the road to her face. His smile feels like home. He looks so eager, so sweet, and she knows he's been dying to touch her for the past two weeks. She can perk herself up and give him a good night. It is Friday, after all.

"Hey Castle?"

"Mmm?"

"Are you still a member of the Verit Club?"

He coughs. "You have an outstanding memory, Beckett."

"Yeah, well, I don't remember being too pleased about the idea of you being a member of an establishment that has 'playrooms,'" she mumbles.

His eyebrows shoot up. "Oh really? But, darling Kate, we went undercover in that club a full year before we got together. Are you admitting - "

"Hold your horses, pal, I'm not admitting anything," she says, but he knows that she is. No matter how many times they talk about how long they've had feelings for one another, it still makes him ache to think of all the time he could have been loving her up close instead of from a respectable distance. She'd been going through so much, he could see it churning just under the surface, and he wanted desperately to be the home she returned to at the end of each day. Instead, he'd had to settle for parting ways politely on the sidewalk or in front of the elevator.

"The point is," she says, "I wouldn't mind you still having a card as long as I'm the one that gets to play with you," she says.

"I did let my membership lapse, but I'm sure I can pull a few strings and get us in."

"What do you say we go home so I can have a quick shower to get the plane off me, and you can get the Ferrari pulled around to the front."

"I say 'hell yes,'… but only if that black dress is available." He knows she still has it. He'd snooped around in the closet just last week, to see what she'd taken to D.C. and what she'd left. When he'd run his fingers over the tight, textured elastic fabric, all the need he'd felt that night had come rushing back. The way her perfect ass swung to the beat. How she'd piled her hair on her head and let her mouth fall open like she was in the throes of ecstasy. It had fueled his fantasies for weeks.

"I'm pretty sure I have it laying around somewhere," she smirks.

Castle's body pitches forward, caught hard by the seatbelt when Beckett slams on the brakes and stops the Ferrarri at the curb. She bites her lip, lost in her own moment of pleasure, and he wipes his mouth to check for drool when she handles the stick shift to put it into park.

He can feel the eyes on them as he jogs around the car to open the door for her. He's torn between pride and the desire to turn right back around so he can lock this exquisite woman in his bedroom where no one else can see her. He doesn't want to share those long, perfectly tanned and muscled legs, or the cascade of messy waves that tumble down her back, or anything between. She's perfect, the hottest thing he's ever seen, and with her on his arm, he's never felt like more of a celebrity.

He recognizes the bouncer and shakes his hand like an old friend. He leans into speak a few words into his ear over the roar of the music that empties onto the sidewalk from inside the club. The whole time, Kate's hand is folded in his. Last time they were here, she wouldn't let him hold her hand, even though they were pretending to be a couple. This time she's wearing an engagement ring and to his absolute awe, he's the lucky bastard that put it there.

The bouncer brings his wrist up to speak into the mic hidden in his sleeve, checking with someone inside if it's alright to let them in. While they're waiting for a decision, Castle tugs on Kate's hand. She must have been lost in thought because she teeters on her heels. He takes advantage of her momentary lapse in balance and lets her fall against him. Stupidly, he's feeling the need to show off, to mark his territory, because there's a line full of younger, smoother men just staring at her. And he knows that all they see is a body. They don't know anything about her, about how tough she is or about what she needs. He does.

Castle leans in to graze his teeth on her lower lip, tugging just a little, tasting the spark of lime hidden there. He'd had a G&T to pregame before they'd left the loft, and she'd only stolen one sip, but he can taste it.

"What was that for?" she laughs.

"Nothing."

"Mr. Castle?" The bouncer unhooks a velvet rope and nods for them to enter.

They enter the club and the music instantly surges around them, flooding the room and pulsing in time with the flash of lights. Castle loses his balance for a second in the sea of bodies that rise and roll. But then he looks at Beckett and he knows exactly what direction is up. She plunges into the crowd, bouncing just a little to the beat of the music. He watches as more and more of her body loosens until she's fully dancing. And this time when she catches him looking at her ass she doesn't stop moving, she just smirks and leads him to the dance floor

They get through three songs before they start making out like teenagers, and another before they leave the dance floor in lieu of a nice, sturdy wall.

"God, I love the way you smell," Kate says before diving back in and running her tongue over Castle's bottom lip. The top three buttons of his bright red dress shirt are unbuttoned, and his collar is wrinkled from where she's been grabbing it.

"Ditto," he manages. He's drowning in her kisses. She seems so … hungry. He knocks her knees apart with one of his and lays himself against her, the hot, firm press of his body shielding her from the chaos of the room.

"Castle," she breathes out his name, and it's a miracle he can hear it at all over the music. Maybe he feels it more than hears it, the vibration of her ecstasy in the very heat of her breath on his ear.

She pulls back to look frantically around the room and spots the cool white glow from a corridor. It must lead to the restrooms. She's desperate for him. Now.

She pulls on his hand, and they battle through the press of bodies together.

"Beckett, wait," he says suddenly. Her eyes flash with impatience. "I have a better idea, if that's okay?" It's her fantasy, and if she wants him to fuck her in the bathroom, he's totally game.

She shrugs. "I'm flexible."

Oh, yes, he knows.

Castle leads her to the curved marble staircase at the far end of the room. As they approach, a bouncer spots him and starts to unhook another velvet rope. He may not get recognized on the street, but his years as a loyal and friendly customer do get him some perks around town.

He swings Kate out in front of him and lets her climb the stairs first so he can try to get a cheeky glimpse up her dress. He's sweetly rewarded, with both sight and scent, as he follows behind in the warm cherry cloud like an excited puppy.

"Mr. Castle, this way please." A slick looking man Castle recognizes as one of the managers leads them down the carpeted hallway to one of the club's private playrooms. Castle locks the door and turns to his fiancé.

"Wow." Kate makes a circuit around the room, dragging her finger over the textured waves of the shining silver wall. There's a small bar in the corner stocked with a rainbow of liquor bottles. The room's lit by two wall sconces, and the main attraction is obviously the bed. Well, she thinks it's a bed. It's just a low circle of slick red leather, not a seam in sight. She can't believe Vice hasn't shut this place down yet, but they do seem to be careful and Castle promises her they don't sell sexual services, so in a way it's like a hotel. Only there's probably very little sleeping done on these beds.

She stops at the far end of the room, where a smoke gray window overlooks the dance floor. Castle crosses the room quietly, tossing his jacket onto the bed as he passes. He comes to stand behind Kate.

"One way mirror," she murmurs. He's been in these rooms with women who had to ask if it was actually a window, and he's grateful that he's not here with some bimbo. She'd probably recognize privacy glass anywhere, seeing as she looks through it almost every day.

"It's not the interrogation room - which is one of my fantasies, in case you're wondering - but it'll do," he says.

"Sorry, babe, but I can't see how we could get away with doing it in an interrogation room. But if I ever see an opportunity, you'll be the first to know."

The music is piped in from downstairs, although it's at a not quite as soul-shaking volume. The subwoofers power through walls and windows alike, though. Every hit on the bass reverberates through their chests, pumping and rocking like sex though their blood.

The song is slower now, the beat tripping and hitching every now and then, and Kate wonders if the little glitches in rhythm are actually the music or if it's her own heartbeat stuttering when Castle brushes his fingers sideways over her neck to move her hair away. She tilts her head and he finds the long expanse of skin above her shoulder, dragging his lips over the length of her neck before diving in with biting, warm, territorial kisses.

Heat shimmers through her. She arches her back and tips her ass up to fit into the cradle behind her. It's lewd, but she can't help the animal urge to feel him, so she bumps backwards twice, three times, ramming herself against where he's already hard for her.

He thrusts forward her with just as much enthusiasm, but it's a poor imitation for the real thing. For the wet slide, for the electricity of being skin to skin. Another thrust from him and her hands fly up to the window to brace herself.

"You know they'll be able to see your palms," Castle whispers.

"I know," she says. She doesn't move them.

He groans and dives back into the curve of her neck. She closes her eyes and rides the waves of pleasure, delighted when his hands slide over her hips and then around to the front of her thighs. He curls his fingers and scrapes her with his nails, from her knees to the tops of her thighs, pushing her dress out of the way with almost no effort at all. It's bunched up around her waist when his hand flattens against her stomach and then glides down, underneath the silk of her underwear and over the slippery heat of her.

"Mmm." She purrs as he strokes over her. It takes all he has not to unzip his fly, rip her underwear to the side, and pump into her right then and there.

"You like that?"

"You know I do," she whispers.

He angles his wrist so he can curl two fingers into her. She gasps when he tugs against her from the inside, pressing hard enough to make her knees lock. He watches in complete fascination as the fingers of one hand press against the glass and go white while the fingers of the other curl into a fist.

Her head drops back onto his shoulder and his mouth finds her jaw, devouring her with messy kisses until she turns into his mouth. She writhes under him, rotating her hips so the heel of his palm grinds down on her more intensely.

Suddenly he feels the thin bone of her arm maneuver between them, searching blindly for his zipper. There's no way he's going to be able to draw this out, he has to be inside her.

"You're messing up my plans," he grates out.

"Mmm. Yeah, you're just gonna have to tell me about them instead."

"I was going to lay you down on the bed. Pop a bottle of champagne. Pour it on your clit." He punctuates his plans by using his pinkie and ring finger to pinch the little hard swell. "I wanted to see if the bubbles would make you come."

She pulls him out of his pants. He looks down to where he's springing obscenely up, a pink contrast to her black dress. He grabs the hem and shoves it up over her ass, giving what's exposed in her cheeky underwear a quick slap.

She rubs against him, feline in her grace. How she expects him to control himself, he doesn't know. Maybe she doesn't expect him to.

"Castle."

Yeah, she definitely doesn't expect him to.

He plants a hand on her back and tilts her forwards. He draws a line down her over the silk of her underwear before sliding his finger under and mercilessly shoving the fabric to one side. She's dripping wet before him. There's absolutely nothing clearer in this moment to him than the need to be inside her.

He loops his fingers around the base of his cock to angle it down, then presses into her, slowly, inch by inch, letting her soak him. When he pulls back out, he's gleaming with her arousal. In and he can feel the sparks already gathering in her body. Out and he can feel the tightness winding low in his own belly. In and she slaps the window, begging for more. Out and he grabs her by the ridges of her hipbones. In and she contracts around him, squeezing him because he loves it and it drives him crazy. Out and he lets his head drop to her shoulder, overwhelmed by the intense pleasure of it all.

Over and over, until she suddenly whirls in his arms, leaving him cold for only a second before she pushes on his chest. He lands on the leather bed and she scrambles on top of him. Glides back down onto him. This time she sets the pace.

She comes before he does, thank God, and he flips her over and gets up onto his knees. His pants are going to be a mess, but with Kate splayed out in front of him, he could not give two fucks. He grabs her ankles and lifts them to his shoulders, those long, lithe legs stretched out against the length of his body. Her fingers drift down to her clit and she comes again, and this time when she fists around him he follows her off the edge.

"Wow."

"Wow is right. You were like an animal," Beckett pants.

"Good fantasy idea. No, great fantasy idea."

"Yeah."

"Wish we'd done that the last time we were here."

"Before or after arresting Oz?"

"Matters not," Castle says.

"Mmm. Yeah, guess not."

Beckett rolls over and tugs her dress back down her legs. Then she gives Castle's face a gentle slap.

"Hey, what was that for?"

"For checking out my ass two years ago."