A/N: Thanks for the lovely reviews! I never understood how precious they were until I published my first fic. To the anon who asked how long the story would be, I'm not sure how many chapters, but I want to take the story into the following day, so at least another one or two. Cheers!

Castle stood in the kitchen, closing containers of Chinese food and stowing them away in the fridge. Kate had burst out laughing when she saw the size of his usual order, but he operated on the theory that leftover Chinese was an essential food group, so he always over-ordered. As he rinsed plates and forks and loaded the dishwasher, his eyes rested on Kate, standing at the window gazing out at the rain-soaked night.

Just the sight of her sent a frisson of awareness through his system. Four long years he had waited for her eyes to turn to him, to really see the man he'd become, the man she'd made him. So many nights he had stared out those same windows, despair and frustration twisting his gut. There were moments he had nearly given up; times when a maelstrom of need and desire churned inside him. The small, bitter voice in his head would mock him for being a fool.

But there were other times as well; transcendent moments when tiny touches, or a glimpse of something in her eyes would transform his despair. When they had a case, and they were in sync, finishing each others' sentences and building theory together, he would almost feel his skin crackling with the electricity they generated. Those nights, he often walked home from the 12th, just to burn off some of the energy from their day together, and still, he'd enter the loft buzzing and animated in his joy.

He dried his hands, and crossed the room; easing himself behind her, he pulled her gently back against his body, enfolding her in his arms. She made a little sound, almost a hum really, that was unbelievably sexy, and Castle made a mental note to find other ways to hear it.

Rolling her head back against his shoulder, she lazily inquired "What time is it, Castle?"

"About 1:30am, I think," he replied. "Why, you sleepy?"

"Well, not so much sleepy, as wanting to go back to bed." she chuckled wickedly. "But I don't think we'd better, not right after all that food."

"So what we need is something to entertain ourselves with, while we wait." Castle declared, "How about strip poker?"

Kate cracked up. "Castle, we both have hardly any clothes on, we were just naked an hour ago, and I fully expect to be naked again in a bit. Let's save strip poker for another time."

"Ok," he agreed, "but don't think I'm not gonna hold you to that. That one's been on my list since the night you almost cleaned me out in front of my Poker buddies."

"I seem to remember you offering a John Woo double feature," Kate reminded him, "we could start a movie."

"Great idea!" he enthused. Grabbing her hand, he towed her toward his study, leaving her beside the big chair as he went to rummage for a DVD. "I think we should start with The Killer; who doesn't love a movie about a reformed assassin…" Castle stopped dead in his tracks, turning back to her with a sick expression on his face. "Kate…god, I'm so sorry…" His words trailed off as he strode back across the room and pulled her into a tight hug. "I didn't even think about what I was saying; how you would feel."

"It's ok, Castle." Her words were muffled by his t-shirt. "I'm not that fragile, I promise. In fact, I feel stronger now than I have in a long time."

Castle loosened his hold on her, pulling his head back and meeting her eyes. He was relieved at the peaceful calm he found there. "Kate, you're one of the strongest people I know. Just…remember that you don't have to handle things alone, especially since we…you and me…I mean…we're…" he fumbled to a stop.

The perplexed look on his face would have been comical Kate thought, if he weren't being so sweet. She eyed him impassively, as he started to speak several times, only to change his mind and gaze helplessly at her.

Taking pity on him, she flashed a wide smile, and leaned in to whisper in his ear. "We're just us, Castle. Doesn't really matter what we call it."

"Us," he mused, "I guess you're right. Really, we're just the same as we've always been, only now we get to have lots and lots of sex!" Grinning wickedly, he planted a noisy kiss on her startled mouth.

Kate couldn't help but laugh, even as she rolled her eyes at his sudden switch from sweet to suggestive.

"C'mon Castle, let's start the movie." Kate prodded.

Forty-five minutes into the movie, as the screen flickered with yet another massive gun battle, Castle had to acknowledge privately that he was far too distracted to keep up with the plot, limited as it may be. Kate had curled up on his lap, her head tucked on his shoulder, warm breath tickling his neck. He had believed her to be mesmerized by the movie, until a few minutes before, when her fingers had begun tracing designs on his arm.

He was still so easily overwhelmed by the reality of touching her, of being touched. For so long her soft skin, her silky hair, had been off limits to him. The occasional brush of fingers as he handed her a coffee cup; the treasured few times that she had reached out and clasped his hand in hers; these brief exceptions had tantalized him, made him ache with the need to shape her skin with his palms, taste every bit of her with lips, tongue and teeth.

The thought struck him then, as he held himself rigidly still under her gently circling fingers, that perhaps she too had been longing for contact, for the satin slide of skin on skin. He had spent so much time ruthlessly controlling his own hopes for their future together; maybe he had just failed to account for the possibility that the same need had tormented her also.

With his other hand, he stabbed at the remote, stopping the movie, and startling a soft hum of surprise from Beckett.

"Kate." He spoke quietly, in a voice rusty with desire.

She raised her head, fingers ceasing their gentle movement, and wordlessly met his gaze.

"I need to touch you, Kate." His words were blunt in the spiraling heat of his desire, and he saw her pupils dilate in response to his voice, his need. That was all the assent he required, as he rose from the chair, lifting her easily and carrying her to his bedroom.

Kate seemed to sense the change in his mood. Kneeling on the bed, she faced him quietly, waiting for whatever came next. He felt fierce, almost primal in his craving to imprint himself on her skin. He wanted to claim every inch of her as his own, sink into her very bones, until they were inextricably linked.

Eyes still locked with hers, he reached out his hands and grasped the lapels of his shirt, still wrapped around her body. With a sharp tug, he ripped it apart, hearing the ping of buttons flying across the room to collide with the walls.

"Castle, your shirt…" she protested weakly.

"I'd never have been able to wear it again anyway, Kate." Castle chuckled throatily. "Not after seeing you in it all night. That's all I'd be able think about, and I'm afraid I might embarrass myself in public."

Her hands moved to his t-shirt and he lifted his arms, allowing her to pull it over his head and toss it aside. She immediately wrapped her arms around his middle, pressing her face into his chest and nuzzling. Once again he was struck by the realization that she had wanted this as long as he had. For so long, he had just assumed that he would have to convince her to want him; woo her into giving him a chance with her. It was part of his basic premise; that she deserved more, better than him, and that he would have to persuade her that he could be worthy.

But he was beginning to comprehend that despite all the barriers that had stood between them, she had been standing on the far side wanting him every bit as much as he wanted her. And with that dawning understanding came a breathless joy.

This third time together was yet again different; Rick was ruthless in his commitment to slowly, deliberately driving her completely out of her mind with pleasure. He moved over and around her, cataloging each sound, each sigh. He found and exploited every ticklish place, learned which caresses made her shiver, where he could elicit a breathy cry or a wordless hum.

By the time he lifted himself above her, she was a mindless creature of pure need and sensation. He drove her up and up, one final time, until they flew beyond coherent thought and floated free, clasped together body and soul.

And they slept.