WARNING: RATED M.

Fantasy Fridays
Chapter Twelve: Of Book Launches and Book Tours

Castle blinks twice, struggling to bring the man across the table from him - what was his name again? Barry? - back into focus. The man - maybe it's Bart, actually - owns a chain of boutique bookstores in Austin, and he's been very eager to elaborate on his ideas for Castle's next visit to Texas.

He feels a sharp pinch just above his knee as his ex-wife glares at him from her spot next to Barry-Bart in the hotel bar.

"That sounds fabulous, Barrett," Gina says, and the smile she's got plastered on her face is a lot more convincing than Rick's. He's been on tour for two solid weeks, and he hasn't had a single day without an event. Even if the morning's spent on planes and in town cars, she rushes him straight to a signing or reading or party of some description. He's just about had it with schmoozing with the people who make money off of his talent, and he's definitely done putting up with his ex-wife. It's not even her military regime that's bugging him. He doesn't remember Gina being so … predictable. Being with Kate's spoiled him.

He feels his pocket vibrate, and suddenly he's wide awake. He said goodnight to Alexis earlier, so it's Kate.

He slides the phone out of his pocket, his eyes alert and trained on Barrett, nodding enthusiastically to distract from the movement of his arm. He slides his thumb over his passcode without looking, and only when it's unlocked does he glance down.

It's not a text from Kate, after all. It's a picture. Hastily snapped, a bit blurry in the low light of her bedroom in D.C. She's got her hair piled up on her head, and a few tendrils have escaped the pink elastic band, spilling over the crisp white of her pillowcase. She's wearing his Superman t-shirt, the one he's had since he was sixteen. He's been wondering where that's been. Particularly since he knows it disappeared before he'd had a chance to wash it. Since she moved to D.C, he's taken to searching for her scent wherever he can find it, and it looks like he's not the only one. He knows how powerful scent can be, after all. The smell of Alexis's hair after she'd had a bath as a toddler, the smell of sugar-free vanilla syrup and hairspray in the morning, the smell of Kate warm in bed with him.

He needs to get out of here.

Barrett launches into yet another very detailed proposition, and Castle shoots Gina a pleading look. She's gotta be tired to - it's nearly midnight and they were on their first flight at six, but she looks perfect, pale, and pressed as usual. If he hadn't seen her use the bathroom while they were married, he'd think she was a robot. But to be fair, she'd always been behind at least two closed doors, so maybe it was an act to lull him into thinking she was human.

She shoots him a scathingly nasty look, but she does actually start leading the conversation to a close. There's a round of wide-smiled goodbyes, promises flying between Barrett and Gina, and then they're finally spilling from the sultry blue light of the hotel bar and into the warm glow of the lobby.

"Thank you so much," he whispers, as they head away from Barrett and towards the bank of elevators.

"You've been very well behaved this tour, so I figured you deserved it."

He thinks there might be a hint of snark in her comment, but he's too eager to be alone in his room to think much about it. He'd been well behaved when they were married, right? He hadn't rushed the schmoozing back then - in fact, there were some nights when listening to someone drone on about how they were going to exploit the cash cow was more appealing than listening to Gina harp on him. He'd felt like a constant disappointment, both to her and Meredith, but his next marriage is going to be so different. His final marriage.

He manages to give Gina the obligatory peck on the cheek - something that annoys him because she'd never been to Europe before he took her - and then he shoves his keycard into his door and escapes.

He's got Kate on the line before he's even loosened his tie.

"Hey, babe," she says, drawling a little with sleep.

"Hi, beautiful. Long day? Did you save the world, or just the country?"

"Mmm. The world. But just virtually. Still in training, remember? What about you? You're late tonight too."

"Yeah, meeting in the hotel bar about next year's tour. Couldn't concentrate. Especially after I saw that picture."

"You liked it?"

"I loved it. But … I might need to know what other articles of clothing might be upon your person at this very moment."

"You asking what I'm wearing, Castle?"

"Just for research purposes."

She laughs softly, and he can hear the sheets rustle as she shifts in her bed.

"I'm wearing my black cotton underwear. Nothing special."

"All of your underwear are special, because they're on you. My favorite part of you."

"Seriously? That's your favorite part of me?"

"Um - yes? Physical part, at least. I mean, it does bring me a considerable amount of joy."

"Mmhmm. I thought you'd be too exhausted to be thinking about that kind of joy."

"Who, me? Never. Never too tired for joy."

"Fine." He hears a snick as she turns her bedside table lamp on. "You'll have to wake me up though, I was almost asleep. Tell me a story."

"Stories are for sleeping. I did have something I wanted to ask you, though. Tonight's event was at a pretty swanky place - not just your average bookstore reading and signing. This Barrett guy threw a full-on party for me, with canapés and cocktails and everything. I'm fairly sure he sold the tickets for more than he told Gina, but anyway, that's not the point. In the middle of the room, he'd set up a pyramid of books, and they reminded me of - "

"The Heat Wave launch party," she finishes.

"Yeah. So I started thinking about that night. And I've got to ask -"

Kate sucks in a breath. They haven't really talked about that one before - that missed opportunity, that particular sliding doors moment that could have ended so differently. Because after she'd read the dedication, and seen the look in Rick's eyes when he'd curled his tongue around the word 'extraordinary,' she'd been sure that something was going to happen between them that night. She's not sure what. In that moment, her dreams for the evening had run through her head like a movie reel. Them circling the party like planets in orbit, talking to who they had to but always aware of where the other one was. Maybe a few introductions where he'd push her forward to meet someone from his publishing team and let his hand trail to the small of her back. She was hoping for a heated kiss on the sidewalk before he tucked her into the car he'd arranged to get her to and from the launch. At least.

But instead, her words had gotten tangled, and he'd said something asinine, and she'd gotten defensive, and it had dissolved into a huge, stupid mess before they'd stormed apart. She'd only stayed for twenty minutes after that, enough time to down a glass of champagne and glare at him.

She feels a twitch of anger rise like a fly she thought she'd swatted. More to the character of Nikki Heat. More to the character!

"So…" Castle clears his throat. "Were you wearing any underwear under that ridiculously sexy blue dress?"

Kate exhales. Of all the bloody questions she was expecting. Did you feel something that night? Do you really think Nikki needs a better writer? Do you think we'd have gotten here if we'd made out like ferrets that night?

"Not really," she answers.

"Ooh! What does that mean?" She can almost hear him bouncing like a puppy.

"It means no, because did you see that dress? I tried putting a thong on and I looked like a tramp."

"And you hate thongs."

"And I hate thongs."

"You didn't look like a tramp. You looked stunning. That dress is my favorite, you know. Other than your birthday suit, of course. You floored me, Kate."

"Really? You didn't say anything."

"I should have. Before we got into that stupid fight. When you walked in I couldn't speak."

Kate smiles. She shifts onto her back, lets her free hand toy with the hem of his t-shirt. Every time she moves she's lost in the scent of his cologne. She closes her eyes, but this time not out of tiredness.

"Could you tell how much I wanted you that night, Kate?"

She stutters, her fingers tripping. "I thought - I hoped … but then we-"

"I'm such an idiot for bringing up the case. I played it back in my head, not even ten minutes later, and I knew exactly where I'd gone wrong. But I think my pride was a little too wounded to do anything about it."

"I didn't mean it. You know I didn't mean the thing about needing a better writer, right?"

"I hoped you didn't. I'd sort of been working on the assumption you were a fan."

"I was a fan. Am a fan. Your books … I've never been able to read through an entire series without getting bored, you know that. You don't waste words - every moment is gripping, every word important. I think that's hard to do. Nikki couldn't have had a better writer, babe."

He doesn't feel like a simple thank you will cut it, not for such an admission, so Rick just lets her words wash over him. He knows her well enough now to know that she doesn't need words from him to know how touched he is. Instead, he eases onto his hotel bed, leaving his shoes, belt, and shirt in a heap on the floor.

"So. If we hadn't gotten into that idiotic argument…let me tell you a story about what I would have liked to have happened."

Kate relaxes into the cadence of his voice. She lets the tension out of her neck and her head drops blissfully into her pillow. Her fingers start moving again, a simple, repetitive caress in an arch below her belly button. She imagines that it's his hand on her bare skin, the way he absently strokes her while they're watching a movie or doing a crossword in bed.

"I would have found you there, reading the dedication. You were wearing rings. You know I love it when you wear rings. And you smelled so damn good - some exotic mix of your shampoo and perfume and hairspray. And that lipgloss - was it the cherry stuff you wore with your bunny rabbit costume for Easter?"

"Yeah. Although I'm not sure you can call it a costume, it was just cheap rabbit ears and a giant pom pom stuck on my ass."

Castle coughs at the memory. "Anyway, before you completely derail my train of thought, I would have told you how gorgeous you looked. Maybe leaned in for a kiss, just on your cheekbone, to get a bit closer to that delicious smell. I would have had to make the rounds, but whenever you weren't with the guys at the bar, you would have been beside me. The real Nikki Heat unveiled. Everyone at the publishing house was dying to see you. I was so proud. I'd have been proud if you'd come in what you'd worn to work, because I told them you were stunning, and you always are, but that night you blew my fucking mind, Kate. I think I would have happily traded places with those necklaces just for the chance to touch all that skin you were showing off."

Kate slides her fingers up into the valley between her breasts, stroking a vertical line over her sternum.

"Maybe I could have cornered someone in one of those booths, and you would have walked past. I would have snagged your hand, asked you to sit, to meet so-and-so. Your thigh would have been pressed to mine under the table. I would have knocked my knee against yours, playfully, just to see what reaction I'd get."

"I'd have been on edge," Kate says. "All the touching, the brush of your hand on mine, your palm flat on the small of my back - it would have had me on edge. Flushed."

"I'd have noticed. The way you blush - not on your cheeks, but your collarbone. I would have covered your knee with my hand. Warm. Heavy. And if you didn't flinch-"

"I wouldn't have."

"I would have slid it up, just a few inches. Squeezed. Started thumbing circles over that skin. Your legs are killer, Kate. So much smooth, smooth skin."

"I wouldn't have lasted long. I'd have had to get up. Get some space. There was a door - a partition, really, between that room and the next, and it was set up for a conference - "

"How do you know that?"

"Uh, just telling a story."

"Kate."

She's silent for a moment. "I went there, to get away from you for a second after the fight. To get some air. But it's not important now. Let's just pretend I slid through the door to get away, to press my hand against the red flush creeping up my chest. I'd have done a few yoga breathing exercises. Tried not to think about you."

"But I'd have followed you. Was it well lit?"

"No," she whispers.

"Mmm. It's dark - just the green glow of the emergency exit signs, and the shadows of rows upon rows of chairs."

"I wouldn't have let you say anything. I would have been on you the instant I was sure we were alone." She's lost in her own head for a moment, unable to verbalize everything running through her head. He would have felt solid in the dark, her hands planted on the warmth of his chest as she drove him back. She'd be ruthless, at first, her mouth a vortex on his, hungry and active, nipping and licking and biting and sucking. The liquid pull in her belly would be heating up rapidly, and he'd finally start moving, put his hands on her, on the skin the dress left exposed, and then lower. Over her ass, down to her thighs, tugging her up against him. She'd feel him then. It's familiar enough to her now, but every time she thinks of that hardness under the respectability of a pair of his best tailored dress pants, it makes her stomach flutter. She'd have rubbed up against him, just to feel it, just to get some friction.

"Kate? Are you?"

"Yeah," she says, even as she slides her hand under the waistband of her panties. She's slippery, so slippery already.

"I'm so damn hard right now." He takes himself in hand, his zipper hastily undone, too hurried to take off his boxers so he's just straining through the slit of them.

"I miss you," she whimpers, as her finger catches on her clit for the first time, sending shockwaves down her legs.

"I would have loved running my hands all over that blue dress. Feeling your creamy, perfect breasts where they were on display for me. It was for me, wasn't it?"

"God, yes."

"It wouldn't have taken much maneuvering and I'd have had your breasts out. Just pull the dress aside, had your nipples rosy and pointing into me. I would have dropped to taste them. But I'd have needed you too badly for too much foreplay. My fingers would slide up your legs, and since you were so very kindly not wearing underwear, I'd have found you soaking. Wanting."

A fresh wave of wetness coats Kate's fingers as she contracts around nothing. It's almost painful to take her fingers from her clit, but she does, scrambling for the bedside table and the replica mould of Castle's cock that she has there, in silicone that perfectly matches the tone of her fiancé's skin.

"Kate. I would have turned us so you were against the wall. Hiked up your dress. You'd have helped me with my zipper, maybe stroked me, exploring me, measuring me for the first of many times."

He does it now, imagining that his thick hand is her smaller one, wrapped tight and moving up and down himself.

"I'd have stopped, with the tip of my cock about to press into you, searching those wild eyes of yours for some kind of permission."

Kate presses the vibrator against her entrance.

"Inside," she husks.

Their groans echo over the phone line as Kate guides the thickness inside her body, and, hundreds of miles away, Castle works his tip with his curled palm as if he's being enveloped by her heat.

They speak at the same time.

"Fuck, you feel good."

"I can't wait to feel your cock again."

"Move with me, Kate."

"Yes."

She's loud, but it makes phone sex so much fun. They're done with words now. He can hear every ragged catch of her breath, every moan as the vibrator slams into her, and every whimper when she stops to bring her fingers back up to her clit. The phone is slippery with sweat now, pressed desperately tight against her ear.

She can hear the quiet, fast slaps as he quickens his pace. The catch of breath when he changes angles, pressure, speed. It's so fucking good between them, even on the phone. Their eyes are shut, and they're dreaming about one another, so fervently that it may as well be her body gripping his.

They may be in different states, but the magic of technology has them coming together in spurts and moans and shudders, and they feel more connected than they have in weeks.

Two days later, Beckett gets an unexpected early reprieve from work. She checks her watch, then hastily pulls up the Southwest Airlines tab on her computer to look at flight times. If she just -

She dashes out of the office, forgetting her jacket and her MetroCard in her rush to get to him.

When he opens the door of his hotel room, ruffled in his flannel pants and navy t-shirt, his jaw drops. She's a vision from his past, all bright blue dress and yards of smooth leg, shoulder blades and hips sharp when he catches her as she launches into him. Her hair's a little longer, but she's curled it, and she's glossy and picture perfect with smoky eyes and shining lips, just as she was at the book launch for the first novel he wrote about her.

What they do to one another that night is better than anything they could have came up with on the phone.

A/N: Happy Good Friday! I hope you all have lovely long weekend. In case I haven't said so in a while, I'm so very grateful to have you reading.

I'm not sure how many chapters I should write while Beckett's in D.C. before the cases that come up in Season 6 - what do you guys think? More long-distance fantasies, or should we get moving on the S6 timeline and get her back to New York?