PRIVATE DICK
A 7X12 AU

RATED M

She goes straight to Castle's office from the precinct, opts against calling him ahead of time, wanting to surprise him instead. They've had plenty of late nights working a case, but this is the first time in a long while that they haven't been working late together, and she misses him. She missed him being with her at the precinct, spouting crazy theories just to annoy her and making up for it with a perfectly crafted latte.

He's staring at his laptop when she stops just outside the door, face leaning against his hand and frustration written all over his face. She takes a few moments just to watch him, to observe him like he normally does her. The light from the screen illuminates his face; he looks tired, the circles under his eyes more prominent than usual, and her heart aches for him, for the pressure he's putting on himself to solve his case.

Finally he lets out a frustrated sigh, and she takes pity, she knocks once on the wall before stepping through the threshold.

"So, the lonely PI, burning the midnight oil, huh?" she says, taking a seat across from him.

He just glances up at her before turning his gaze back to the computer screen. "Who knew that finding a purse could be this exhausting?"

He sounds it, and she leans back in her chair. "So, did you figure out where the white limo took Anna?"

"I can't even figure out whose limo it was," he laments, complains briefly about the Taxi and Limo Commission.

She recognizes the look in his eyes, the determination to solve the mystery. But it's late, and they both need rest, need to be fresh in the morning. She has a murderer to find, and he has a purse to track down. Neither of them will be much good if they're dead on their feet from chasing dead ends.

"Ready to get out of here? Call it a night?" she asks, standing, smoothing her hands over her blazer.

"What's your rush, doll? Why don't you stick around awhile, give those stems of yours a rest?"

She narrows her eyes, quirks the corners of her mouth in an involuntary smile as he moves past her to the beverage cart, where he uncorks the decanter. "Could I?" she teases, playing along. "I'm all alone and this is my first time in the big, scary city."

"Spare me the tall tale, precious," he throws back, and oh, she likes where this is going. He hands her a tumbler of scotch. "A dame like you? You've got an angle."

She takes a sip, stifling a moan at the burst of flavor on her tongue. Her husband's office is modest, but he spared no expense with accoutrements, not even with this. "You're pretty quick for a gumshoe," she throws back, tilting the glass towards him.

He levels his gaze at her and squares his shoulders. "Come on, spill the story. Time is money, and I've got none of either."

"All right, I'll give it to you straight," she says, taking a step closer, watching his eyes darken and his nostrils flare at her proximity. "I'm just a girl, looking for a private dick."

"Whoa!" He jumps when her hand brushes against him on the last word, and he takes her glass, sets it on the cart behind him. "Then your search is over, sweetheart."

She giggles when he pulls her into him, one hand at his shoulder and the other keeping his head against hers as their mouths meet and he lifts her onto the wide windowsill. She shoves his coat off his shoulders, and before it even drops to the floor his hands are at her shirt. She manages one of his buttons before she has to tilt her head back, allowing him to reach the top two buttons on hers.

She hooks her ankles around his waist, pulling him closer as he continues to unbutton her top. "Wait," she gasps when his hips jerk into hers, "the door."

He pulls away with a grunt, his eyes dark and dangerous. "Right." He shuts and locks the door in record speed, untucks his shirt as he steps back into her welcome embrace. "Hi," he says with a grin.

She cups his face in her hands, thumbs brushing the corners of his mouth. "Hi."

"We're really doing this, huh?"

She hums and reaches for his shirt again. "What does it look like?" she teases, leaning forward when he grips her collar and helping him take off her shirt. She unhooks her bra, moans when he bends down to capture one nipple in his mouth, scraping his teeth against it, dropping her bra to the floor. "Oh my God, Castle," she breathes, threading her fingers through his hair. "Pants. Off."

He unbuckles her belt, but when she bats his hands aside he chuckles and shoves his own pants down his thighs. "Patience, my love," he murmurs against her mouth, lips brushing against hers as he speaks.

She growls and pushes him, reaches between them to wrap her fingers around his shaft. "Shut up, will you?"

His deep chuckle turns into a moan when he slides his fingers beneath her underwear. "Shit, Kate," he groans. He tugs her panties to the side before kneeling in front of her, and he pushes on her knees, nudges them farther apart.

Her hips jerk when his tongue touches her, light pressure on her clit, his hands at her thighs. Usually he takes it slow, starts with a light touch, a teasing finger at her entrance, lazy strokes of his tongue. But she doesn't want slow; she needs him, the ache between her legs unbearable, and she curls her fingers around the back of his head, holds him to her

"God, Cas-tle!" His name comes out on a gasp when he slides two fingers into her, curling them immediately, and she cries out when she comes, one hand in his hair and the other gripping the worn windowsill below her.

He stands, and her hands bracket his face, holding him still as her mouth descends on his. She can taste herself on his tongue, her wetness on his fingers as he grips her hips and shifts her. It spurs her on, has her finding his cock once again, chuckling against his mouth when he moans at the twist of her wrist.

"If you don't want this to be over too quickly…" he warns, his voice low, and she shuts him up with her mouth on his again.

She gasps when he pushes into her. He thrusts slowly at first, barely moving, but when she digs her fingers into his side in unspoken encouragement he almost completely withdraws, then slams into her.

She cries out, gripping his shoulders, holding him to her as he pistons his hips, his rhythm faltering within just a few strokes. She feels another orgasm building already, the angle allowing him to hit her clit on every pass. He pauses just long enough to shift and bend his knees, and when he enters her again he's deeper, and she feels the dam break, holds his head against her shoulder.

"Rick," she gasps as he pants, his breath washing across her skin, his hips jerking and stilling with one final groan. She tugs at his hair, encouraging him to lift his head, and she kisses him, opens to the prod of his insistent tongue.

He slows the kiss when air becomes necessary for both, pulls away with a final swipe of his tongue against hers. "And you thought marriage would make us boring," he quips with a smirk.

She chuckles despite the roll of her eyes. Her temporary fears continue to be dispelled, with her husband finding new ways to surprise her almost daily. She smiles at him, brushes her fingers through the hair that's managed to flop over his forehead. "I don't know how I thought that would happen."

"Or how we could limit ourselves to only having sex on national holidays. Wait here," he instructs and he pulls out, steps over to his desk and returns with a few tissues.

Kate adjusts her underwear after cleaning herself up, but grimaces when she steps off the window ledge and puts her pants back on. It would be an uncomfortable drive to the loft, short as it would be. "Well, you know how much I love role play," she teases, dropping her voice to a husk that she knows drives him crazy. Judging by the way his eyes darken to almost black, and his audible swallow, she's succeeded.

"Maybe," he says, tugging her into him again, "we can do some more role play at home."

She quirks an eyebrow and kneels, eyes his shaft, but instead of encouraging a round two, she reaches for his discarded shirt and jacket. She does brush her hand against him on her way up, and grins at his low groan. "Maybe," she agrees. After a long, slow kiss, she nudges her nose against his. "You know what else I love?" When he just stares at her, a dazed look on his face, she presses her smile to his. "When you tie me to the bed and have your wicked way with me."

That seems to spur him on, because within moments he's dressed and tugging her out the door. Her laugh echoes in the elevator, but it soon turns into a moan when he presses her against the wall and kisses her senseless.

They'll pay for it tomorrow, both needing more coffee than usual to get through the day, but it's more than worth it.

-FIN-

A/N: As usual, any mistakes are mine. Thank you for reading!