A BETTER WRITER
2X05 AU (POST-BOOK PARTY)
RATED M

She just needs a better writer.

He's been home for almost an hour, but Rick's still annoyed at Beckett, at the argument they had at the party. He isn't sure how it started, either; one minute he'd called her extraordinary, and the next, they were snapping each other's heads off. He'd even told her that no man would turn her away. It was a compliment! And she called him a subpar writer for it?

He shoves his jacket off and throws it over the back of the couch, his annoyance growing into anger again.

Maybe he will take the other offer, he tells himself. Say goodbye to Nikki Heat, both the one on the page and the one who'd been a knockout in her Hervé Léger dress.

"Get her out of your system," Paula had told him.

Well, pretty sure they're out of each other's systems now. She probably wants nothing to do with him.

He pours himself a full glass of scotch and drains it, winching at the burn down his throat.

Where the hell did the night go wrong?

He's been replaying it over and over again: his brief conversation with Beckett, the argument that led to them storming away from each other.

His phone lights up with a new text, and he picks it up, starts unbuttoning his dress shirt with his free hand. His hand stills when he reads the offer for the new series.

Holy shit. That's a hell of an offer.

Still…

He can't take any action on it until he figures out what happened earlier. It's been gnawing at him too much.

Not bothering to button his shirt back up, he quickly throws on his coat and grabs his keys, scribbles a note to his mother and daughter on his way out. He doesn't waste time calling for his car service or a cab, just takes the elevator down to the garage.

Fifteen minutes later he's knocking on Beckett's door, and when it swings open, his mouth goes dry.

"What do you want, Castle?" she snaps, crossing her arms over her robe-covered chest.

Her hair is down, the soft waves framing her face, a stark contrast to the fire in her eyes.

"I got it," he blurts. "The offer. For Bond."

Beckett arches a brow. "Thought saying the name would jinx it," she points out.

"But here's the thing," he continues, as if she hadn't spoken. "I don't know if I can leave. Not Nikki. Not you." He takes a cautious step forward, stopping right at the threshold. "You know what I can't stop thinking about?"

The moment he saw Kate's eyes again, he remembered how they looked earlier. How soft her gaze was, how tender, how she'd hardened when he brought up the case.

Oh.

Her jaw clenches, and he thinks she's going to push him back and shut the door in his face. Instead, she steps to the side, a wordless invitation for him to come in.

He shuts the door behind him, then turns to face her. "You thought I was going to say something else," he says, a statement rather than a question.

"When?"

"When I mentioned the case," he explains. "What did you think I was going to say?"

"Oh." Kate shrugs. "Nothing. I don't know. I didn't think anything specific."

"Liar." He sees her chest hitch when he moves closer, stopping mere inches from her, her lack of heels making her tilt her head back to look in his eyes. "What was on your mind, Kate?"

"I-" Her hands grab the open sides of his shirt and she drops her gaze to his mouth, her eyes darkening. "God, I hate you," she murmurs before surging up and crashing her mouth to his.

He lifts his hands to cradle her cheeks, traces the seam of her lips with his tongue, moans when her tongue touches his. He turns them and backs her against the door, pinning her to it with the press of his hips.

She inhales sharply, and she tugs at his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders, her head dropping back when he tears his mouth from hers to drift down her neck. "Castle," she gasps, parting her legs when he nudges her foot with his. She arches against him, palms the back of his head as he sucks at the tender skin just below her ear.

He trails one hand down to the edge of her robe, and he nudges it aside, kisses his way across her chest to trace her newly exposed skin with his tongue.

A curse falls from her lips when his fingers dip into her robe and brush across her breast. Her back arches, pushing her chest into his touch, and she gently pushes his head down, a silent encouragement to keep going.

He smiles against her skin as he does just that. He needs no encouragement; he's having the time of his life.

She fists the front of his t-shirt, and he lifts his head from her breast just long enough to tear his shirt off and throw it to the floor. Before he can lean down again, though, she brings her mouth to his, lifts herself to her toes as she wraps her arms around his neck and swipes her tongue against his.

She hikes one leg around his waist, and he curls his fingers around her thigh, groans when he slides his hand higher and encounters nothing but her wet heat.

"Oh Jesus," he gasps, shifting his hand, swiping his fingers through her arousal. "Fuck, Beckett."

She lowers her leg, and he begrudgingly removes his hand. His disappointment is short-lived, though, because she takes his hand and leads him through her apartment.

Another time, he would look around, maybe take a couple detours to snoop a little. But right now, all he can focus on is the sway of her hips and the knowledge that she isn't wearing anything under her disheveled robe. He wonders if this is the norm for her, if she often wears a robe and nothing else when she's at home. He wants to know.

He wants to know everything about her.

She turns when they cross the threshold into her bedroom, and his mouth goes dry when she slips her robe off her shoulders and kicks it aside. He reaches for her, cups her hips with his hands and closes the distance between them.

She moans when their mouths meet, and his hips buck when she brushes her palm against his clothed erection. He's hard as a fucking rock, his cock straining against his zipper, and he starts to walk her back towards her bed, his mouth never leaving hers.

He does pull away when they reach the bed, and he quickly kicks off his shoes and shoves his pants and boxers down his thighs while she pushes the bedspread out of the way.

He can only watch as she climbs onto the bed, leaning against the pillows, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth as he follows.

He pins her to the mattress, his hips settling between hers, and he groans when his cock brushes against her core. "God," he manages, his throat tight, barely containing his arousal.

She shifts so she can reach into her nightstand drawer, and she pulls out a condom. She starts to open it, but he takes it from her and sets it aside.

No way in hell is he fucking her without making her come first.

He slides his hand down her side, shifts to prop himself on one elbow so he can watch. She shivers when his fingers trip over her ribs, and he smirks and lifts his gaze to hers.

"Ticklish?" he teases.

She narrows her eyes, but any comeback dies on her tongue when he brings his hand between her legs again.

Fuck, he thinks, his fingers easily sliding through her slickness, and he rubs slow circles around her clit until she gasps and arches.

"Did you just-"

She curls her fingers around the back of his neck and brings his mouth to hers, tugging his bottom lip with her teeth before sealing her mouth over his. She reaches down with her other hand, guides his hand lower in a clear, if wordless, request.

Her knees drop to the bed when he teases her entrance with one finger, and he slips it in easily. He slowly pumps, speeding up when she whimpers and lifts her hips into his touch.

"More," she gasps into his mouth, pulling back for a quick breath before crashing her mouth to his again.

He adds a second finger and continues to pump, this time curling his fingers inside of her, shifting so he can rub his heel against her clit. He grunts when her hand finds his cock, pushes himself into her fist as she strokes him. It doesn't take long before he feels the beginning tugs of his orgasm, and he shifts away, shakes his head when she glares at him.

"Not yet," he rasps, his voice low and gravelly and almost unrecognizable even to his own ears.

She holds his gaze with dark, lust-filled eyes that flutter closed when he renews the work of his fingers inside her.

He can only watch, and he's struck speechless as she arches, her hands gripping the sheet under her, her inner walls fluttering around his fingers. A deep flush spreads across her chest, and she throws one arm above her head, pushes her palm against the headboard as she comes with a cry.

It's all he can do to stop himself from burying deep inside her and fucking her mercilessly.

For now, he works her through her orgasm, drawing it out as her hips roll and her release coats his hand. He doesn't pull his fingers from her until she collapses to the bed, breathing hard, her face and neck flushed.

His cock is screaming for relief, his arousal almost painful, but he ignores it, continues to slowly circle her clit, trail his fingers through her folds.

Eventually her eyes flutter open and meet his, and she pushes his hand away. The red in her cheeks deepens, and she starts to move away.

He grips her waist to stop her, and he bends his head down, brushes his lips across hers. "Fucking gorgeous," he whispers, trailing his hand up to cup her breast. He shifts so he's covering her, and he kisses a path down her neck, doesn't stop until he has her nipple in his mouth and his hand between her legs again.

"Castle," she gasps, her hand gripping his hair, holding him to her chest. She hikes one leg around his thigh and lifts her hips in a plea for more.

His cock brushes against her center, and he feels her wetness - both from her release and new arousal, he assumes - coat him. It would be so easy, he thinks as he releases one breast and moves to the other - but if there's one thing he's always deliberate about, it's being safe.

Well, and making sure his partner is satisfied, of course.

He reaches to the nightstand and grabs the condom, quickly rolls it on before settling between her legs again. He grips his cock and nudges her entrance, pausing when he hears the breath hitch in her chest.

"You okay?" he asks, almost trembling with arousal. It might kill him if she tells him to stop, but he'd do it. The last thing he wants is an unenthusiastic partner.

She nods, but her eyes are squeezed shut, so he cups her jaw, brushes his thumb across her cheek until she opens her eyes and looks at him.

"Do you want to stop?"

"No. God, no." She rolls her eyes, but he has a feeling that it's directed at herself instead of him. "Don't make me say it," she mutters. When he just raises his brows, she rolls her eyes again. "You're big, okay?"

He grins. "I'll go slow."

She mutters something else under her breath, but she doesn't push him away, instead grabs his face and pulls his mouth down to hers. She slides her hands down to his waist and lifts her hips in encouragement.

"Jesus," she gasps when he slides in, entering her slowly, allowing her to adjust with every inch. She locks her ankles at his back and digs her fingers into his waist.

"Good?" he manages, barely holding onto his control. God, he just wants to slam into her, but he hangs on.

"Yes, God, move."

He groans and drops his forehead to her shoulder as he slides out, pauses for a moment before pushing back in.

She gasps every time he moves inside her, each sound from her spurring him on, quickening his thrusts. Before long she grips the back of his head, brings his mouth to hers in a fierce, deep kiss.

He grunts as she starts to clench around him, and he manages to prop himself on one hand and slide the other between them. She's slick, so, so slick, and she tears her mouth from his with a cry as he rubs tight circles on her clit.

"Fuck," she gasps, grabbing his shoulders so tightly, it's almost painful. Her heels dig into his ass and she rolls her hips, her back arching as she falls over the edge, pulling him right along with her.

Breathing hard, he buries his face in her neck, relaxes as her fingers play with the soft hair at the nape of his neck. After a moment his eyes start to droop, and he pushes himself off her and flips onto his back so he doesn't fall asleep.

"Wow," Kate breathes.

He looks over at her, grins when he finds her just staring at the ceiling. "Yeah."

She chuckles. "I just thought you were gonna ask me out for a drink or something," she admits, glancing at him. Her gaze drops to his groin. "Not that I'm complaining, of course."

Rick laughs and pushes himself off the bed, ducks into the bathroom to take care of the condom. She's sitting up in bed when he returns, the sheet over her chest. He moves to join her, but he hesitates, unsure of what will happen now. He knows what he wants - everything - but he'll follow her lead.

She moves the sheets back in invitation, and he grins and slides in next to her, adjusts the pillow at his back. After several seconds of slightly awkward silence, she sighs. "I didn't mean what I said at the party, about Nikki needing a better writer," she says quietly.

He shifts to face her. "And I didn't mean the thing about her not having enough character for more than one book. I was mad, and…" He reaches up and tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Sometimes I say things I don't mean when I'm mad. I'm sorry."

"Me too."

He doesn't move his hand away from her cheek, and she covers his hand with hers, leans into his touch. "So," she sighs, "when do you go to London?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you're taking the offer, right?" she asks. "I assume you'll go there for research."

"Oh." He shifts his gaze over her shoulder, his mind racing. He doesn't actually know; he hasn't read the contract, just the text from Paula that had the amount of money and number of books. Normally, he'd take that offer in a heartbeat and figure out the logistics later. It's a lifelong dream come true, and he'd be a fool to turn it down, especially since he doesn't know if the publisher will even want more Nikki Heat.

But now…

He leans forward and captures Kate's mouth with his, sweeps his tongue against hers, cups her jaw with his hands when she moans and wraps her arms around his waist. He lowers her to her back, settles his hips between hers, starts to trail his mouth down her neck when she hooks a leg around his.

"I don't wanna think about London, or Bond," he murmurs against her skin, swirling his tongue around her earlobe and tugging it with his teeth. He lifts his head to gaze at her, and his cock immediately hardens at the desperate look in her eyes. "Right now, I'm only thinking about you."

Her lips lift in a seductive curl and she surges up into him. He breaks the kiss just long enough to grab another condom, and once he rolls it on, Kate nudges his shoulder, tells him to get on his back.

He can only watch as she rises above him, both of them moaning when she sinks down, easily taking him in. She leans forward, propping her hands on his stomach as she rocks. His hands land on her hips, fingers digging into her skin, helping guide her movements on his cock.

It doesn't take long before she starts to flutter around him. He bends his knees and lifts his hips into hers, relishing the sharp dig of her nails in his torso at the new angle.

"God, Castle," she gasps, her movements quickening, one hand moving between them.

He bats her hand away and circles her clit with his thumb, recognizing already the stimulation she seems to need in order to climax, which he is more than happy to provide.

He's so focused on her impending orgasm that his sneaks up on him, and he throws his head back, groans as he pulses inside her. He hears her cry out, and then she's spasming around him, grinding her clit against his thumb until she finally collapses onto him.

He splays his hands across her back, holding her to him as they both catch their breath. She seems to recover before him, although the stars clear from his vision just in time to watch her head towards the bathroom. He drops his head back to the pillow and scrapes his hand down his face.

Maybe it's the orgasm-induced haze, but he doesn't think Paula's advice to get Kate out of his system had any merit. Any other woman, sure. But Kate…

She's different. Without even realizing it, she's gotten under his skin. Every minute he's with her, he wants more. Every morsel of personal information she shares, every crack in the armor she wears, has him at the edge of his seat. And now that they've been physical, that he knows what she sounds like when she comes, how she feels around his fingers, his cock?

He's doomed.

He lifts his head when he hears her pad back into the room, grins at the flush on her cheeks. God, did he really think he could leave this woman? Even if the Bond contract wouldn't take him to London, if he'd stay in the city, a world where he doesn't see Kate Beckett every day - or at least several times a week - is not a world he wants to be part of. He had a taste of that last summer, and he has no desire to revisit it.

Kate perches on the edge of the bed, wringing her hands in her lap in a sure display of nerves. "So," she says, glancing at him.

He sits up. "So."

Her teeth worry her bottom lip, and he resists the temptation to kiss her again, to take her hand in his, to spend the rest of the night worshiping her.

"It's late," she says quietly. "I have to be at work in a few hours."

He nods and climbs off the bed. "Say no more."

She's wearing her robe again when he returns to her room, and he quickly dresses. She follows him to the door, neither of them saying a word until he pauses with his hand on the doorknob, and turns to her.

"Meet you at the precinct?" he asks, hoping with everything in him that she says yes, that this night didn't fuck up their entire relationship.

She gives him that soft smile that does funny things to his chest. "You don't have to come tomorrow, you know. You can sleep in. Get your beauty rest," she teases with a twinkle in her eye.

"Trying to get rid of me already, Detective?" Taking a chance, he leans down and brushes his lips across hers, buries his fingers in her hair when she moans and leans into him. "I'll see you in a few hours," he whispers when he pulls away. "And maybe tonight, I can buy you that drink."

He leaves before he can change his mind and crawl back in her bed, and he feels her eyes on him as he heads towards the elevator. He turns to find her gaze locked firmly at his groin, and he grins when she quickly darts her eyes to his, her cheeks flaming red.

The elevator arrives, saving him from throwing sleep to hell and storming back to her apartment, and he sighs and leans against the back wall.

He's falling for this woman.

He just hopes she's falling for him, too.

-FIN-