The elevator dings loudly as it clambers past each floor of Kate Beckett's apartment building, making her jittery. Castle is standing behind her, just close enough for her to feel the brush of his fingers against her jacket, just close enough for her to want him closer.

Unfortunately they are not alone. Little Old Mrs. Bradley shuffled into the lift between a set of rapidly closing doors with astonishing agility just as the pair thought they were finally alone for the evening. Alas.

Beckett sighs as she watches the numbered buttons light up one by one, crawling so slowly as to seem purposefully sluggish. She is being mocked by buttons, that is how badly she needs to be alone with Castle. She can feel him move closer to her from behind as she casts a sideways glance in the old woman's direction, trying to gage if they are being watched. The doors are metallic and semi reflective, and she is sure the nosy woman is watching their every move, but she doesn't step away from the way he's leaning closer to her. The button at her throat feels like it's cutting off her airflow as his right hand brushes the outside of her hip, making her dip a finger under her collar, adjusting it uselessly as the doors finally open to her floor with a ping. She nods tightly at Mrs. Bradley and then breezes past her into the hall, walking purposefully toward her front door without even glancing back to see if Castle is following. (She knows he's following.)

Before she can even slide her key into the lock, he's crowding her from behind, pressing her into the cool metal. "We need to get you a personal elevator or something," he growls into her ear as he sweeps her hair off her neck and drops a warm kiss in its place. She hums as her hand falters against the doorknob.

"A personal elevator?"

"I have very elaborate fantasies that involve you and your elevator that do not include the numerous old women that populate your building," he says as he presses his hips into her and lets the tip of his tongue flick against the underside of her ear.

She groans softly, still trying to work her key into the lock. "Maybe you should take care of that then, writer boy."

He perks up like a puppy. "Seriously? You would let me build you a private elevator?"

"Are you seriously asking me that question?" She uses his distraction to finally master the lock on her door, twisting it quickly and stumbling as he almost falls in after her. She barely has time to put down her bag before she hears the door slam behind her and she is pushed against the hallway wall with an umph.

"Why do you tease me?" he asks as he shoves her jacket down her arms, finally pressing his mouth against hers before she can answer him. She grunts into the kiss as she kicks her falling jacket from around her ankles and pulls his down and off his shoulders to join it on the floor.

"Because it's fun," she whispers into the space between their mouths when he finally pulls back enough to kick off his shoes. The way he's looking at her makes her gulp as he advances once again, this time dragging one kiss from her lips before kneeling down in front of her. One of her eyebrows lifts as he cocks his head suggestively, but then he reaches down under her jeans to unzip her boots, leaving her biting her lip and staring.

"I bet you like it," he throws at her as he tugs at her right boot, dragging the zipper down and taking it off, discarding it haphazardly into their pile of jackets.

She's distracted by the way his fingers are dragging up her calf, making her hazy. "Like what?"

"Like being watched. In the elevator."

Her eyes widen at the suggestion, and the way she doesn't answer immediately makes his eyes widen.

"Oh my god, do you really?" He stands, shucking her last shoe without looking, advancing on her like a predator. She will never, ever tell him, but she loves it when he gets aggressive. His hands slide possessively up her ribs, brushing the sides of her breasts through her shirt as he finally reaches her face with open palms. She tries to lurch forward and kiss him, distraction always her game of choice, but he holds her head against the wall until she's looking him right in the eye, their noses almost touching. His voice is criminally low when he speaks. "So next time I should just push you against the wall, no matter who else is in the elevator with us? Am I reading this right?"

She lures him in until they're almost kissing again, opening her mouth just barely against his. "No," she says suddenly, pushing him off of her with a shove and watching as he barely catches himself against her kitchen counter. He's grinning, watching her as she saunters toward him.

She starts unbuttoning his shirt the minute she reaches him, desperate to be skin to skin. "We are not done talking about this," he says tauntingly until she twists her fingers against his chest, pinching him until he yelps. "Hey – ow," he squeaks as she raises an eyebrow and keeps unbuttoning. "Are we doing this on the counter again, because I am totally game."

Her eye roll makes him reach for her, but she pushes him off again. "I still have that bruise from last time, let's bench that one."

"Bedroom it is," he decides before she finally lets him pull her into his arms as they walk sideways in the direction of her bedroom, fused at the mouth. She feels his fingers unconsciously rub over the place on her hip where she has a counter shaped bruise from the last time they came stumbling in the door this way, only that time they hadn't been able to physically make it to her bedroom.

The closer to her room they get, the deeper their kisses become until she feels like she is trying to climb inside of him because nothing is close enough. Thankfully his knees hit the edge of her bed after only a few moments and she immediately climbs into his lap, knees pressed against his hips and into the mattress.

She's so buttoned up at work, literally, collars affixed at the very top to at least attempt the stay of temptation while on the job that it makes his frantic work of peeling the clothes from her body at the end of the day feel like even more of a relief for them both. She moans appreciatively as the front of her button down sags open and he tugs it haltingly down her arms from behind until it finally slides free.

"God, Beckett," he breathes into the crook of her bare neck, inhaling softly as she grips the short hairs at the base of his skull. The soft feel of it makes her shiver. The flat of his tongue presses against her thumping jugular as she groans, pulling his head closer as his palm spans the width of her back, pulling her more tightly against him. She's being so responsive, arching into every touch, mouth dripping with sounds she knows he can hardly bear to listen to without flipping her onto her back.

"What?" she asks absently as her hips roll forward in response to his tongue's attention on her throat, proving his point.

His nose nudges behind her ear and into her hair, lips trailing along her lobe. "You smell amazing." She smiles against his cheek.

"Like a precinct full of cops," she says in a syrupy voice, scrunching her nose and making him chuckle.

"If the precinct smelled like you, I'd never want to leave." He maps his compliments into her skin with his mouth, warm swirling tongue tracing its way across the ligaments in her neck.

"Mmm so flattering, it's almost like you want something..."

Her hands trail down the space between them, finally landing on his belt, pulling the buckle free with a lot more pushing and tugging than is strictly necessary. He groans favorably as her palm presses against the seam of his zipper, and then she's practically squirming over him, hot with impatience as his mouth leaves searing trails along every place it touches.

"Will you finish undressing me already, I have literally been thinking about this all day," she speaks directly into his ear before tugging the lobe between her teeth less than gently. He flinches, but in the kind of way she knows he likes.

"Literally literally? Or literally as in you're using the word incorrectly literally?" He pops the clasp of her bra with a practiced flick of his wrist, discarding it with an appreciative sweep of his eyes as she leans back to catch his gaze. Her skin itches to be touched as she stands and drops her own pants.

"I know what the word literally means, Castle."

"It's a common mistake," he says absently, staring at her as she strips down. His pants follow hers in a rustle of denim and then she's crawling up his body as he lays out flat on his back on top of her covers. A groan rumbles up from his chest when she sits deliberately over his lap, shifting teasingly as she runs her fingers through her hair, scratching her scalp and letting out a contented sigh. It's somehow a surprise how good this feels every time they do it, she just can't seem to get enough of him. Apparently on the same wavelength, he grips her hip loosely with one hand, letting the other trail up and down her thigh possessively. "So you were thinking about this when we were interrogating that scary looking biker dude this afternoon?" he asks distractedly as she finally stops playing with her own hair and braces herself against his chest with her palms, rocking over him pleasantly. Her eyes narrow down at him.

"I was literally thinking about it all day, so yes I was thinking about it then."

"What about when -" he starts to say until she rotates her hips hard against him, making him groan as she leans her torso down to brush a kiss over his lips.

"Is this really what you want to talk about right now?"

The hand that fists in the back of her hair screams no as he pulls her closer, erasing any inch of space between them. His mouth makes her forget they had even been speaking as his tongue slides through her lips, warmly drawing her closer to him over and over.

She always forgets how big his hands are until they are spanning her body, easily dwarfing her from finger to palm. His right one trails lightly down her side as he kisses her, cupping her through her underwear and grinding her against his hips.

"Why are these still on?" he mumbles against her mouth, sliding his hand up and underneath the fabric to get at her skin.

She raises herself up on an elbow to look at him incredulously. "Maybe if you would shut up – " he cuts her off with a fierce press of his lips, catching her off guard and making her squeak against his mouth. His hands are dragging off her last stitch of clothing before she can complain about it again, and then his underwear is gone too, tossed joyfully over the side of her bed like a slingshot off the end of his finger.

He tackles her then, using his momentum to press her into the mattress completely, covering her body from head to toe. She doesn't usually let him do this, possess her so completely, but she's so desperate for the feel of him she allows it for the time being, arching her body up into him and slinging an arm around his neck. His tongue is so warm and electric against hers, she's seeing stars behind her eyelids already. A breathy sigh slips past her lips as he starts trailing his mouth across her jaw, making her sink her teeth into her own skin. She closes her eyes as he meanders downward, his hips driving her into the mattress with jerky half movements that hit her perfectly between her legs, echoes of what's to come. The hollow of her throat becomes his playground as his tongue sweeps out and flattens, eliciting a moan, distracting her enough to not notice how his left hand is pressing its way up her entire right arm until their fingers are laced above her head and he's pinning her to the mattress. She grins at his initiative, a little laugh bubbling up from her throat, catching on his lips.

"What are you laughing about?" he mumbles into the base of her throat as he bites her gently, pressing her hand down more firmly by her head.

"It's so cute that you think you can pin me."

"Think I can pin you? It seems like I already have you – " he starts to say cockily before she hooks a foot around his calf and uses the arm slung around his neck for leverage, flipping him onto his back in a move so fluid he hardly even feels it happen. Her eyes sparkle down at him as she wiggles the fingers now pressing his hand into the mattress.

"You were saying?"

"You're such a bully," he pouts as her face softens in that way it does when she's humoring him. To make him feel better, she snakes a hand down between her legs to give him a squeeze, making him gasp. Her mouth opens too, mimicking his expression as she watches him react to her touch. Watching what she can do to him never gets tiring. "Beckett," he whines, pushing his hips into her hand, begging her to put him out of his misery. She complies easily and with a kiss, their appreciative groans mingling on the tips of their tongues.

She starts moving then, long, sure strokes that make her toes curl and Castle's throat bob. Her eyes slide closed as her forehead rests against his, lips kissing, sucking, brushing, breathing against him as they rock together, completely lost in the moment. She's so caught up in the feel of him that it's a shock when his warm fingers slide their way down her belly, searching out more places to drag pleasure from her humming body. The angle is wrong though, and he can't quite reach, so as she leans back to make a little more room, he takes the opportunity to sit up completely, cradling her in his lap as she stills, knees pressing sharply into his hipbones. Her hands splay widely on his shoulders as she readjusts herself, wrapping her legs completely around his waist and sinking down, groaning at the deeper angle.

"God Castle," she groans, breath hitching as his fingers find what they had been looking for.

"You like that?" he asks surely, already knowing the answer as he circles his fingers perfectly against her.

"You know I do."

From this position she can't get any leverage, but she doesn't need it as his fingers continue rubbing and her hips grind tightly against his pelvis, her inner muscles contracting around him tightly. The hand not trapped between them travels over every inch of her skin, her shoulders, the ends of her hair, her spine, her thighs, raising goosebumps and shivers as he goes. Her hands mirror his, reveling in the bunching of his shoulder muscles and biceps, the tense coil of his abdominals as his hips thrust upward every so slightly. It's intense, to say the least, being pressed this closely to him while he plucks her like a well loved guitar, hitting every note in perfect time, drawing her closer to completion. Her hand cups the back of his head as she feels fire coiling out from her abdomen, licking at all of her limbs as her back starts to bow and her orgasm starts to sweep her. She buries her face in his neck then, holding him to her tightly as she opens her mouth in a silent scream, biting down on the chords of his neck as her thighs tense and she freezes in an endless torrent of sensation, lost to the feel of him. He's whispering in her ear as she fairly sobs against him, dragging her open mouth up his neck until she reaches his ear. The endearments he loves to hear come spilling from her mouth as she starts to come down, still moving against him, trying to bring him with her. The sound of her voice, of her words is enough to do him in, as they often are, and she holds her breath for him as he squeezes an arm around her middle and comes, open mouth pressed intimately against her ear.

They sit like that, rocking against each other, cradling each other's heads until Beckett's legs start to cramp and she has to slide off of him, laying herself on the bed heavily with him following right behind. His forehead presses to her temple as they breathe, sated for the moment after a long day of abstinence.

It's entirely too quiet for all of three seconds before his voice is back in her ear. "So, Beckett," he starts, and she already has to fight the tug of a smile at the corners of her lips just from his tone. "Was that literally the best after work sex we've ever had?" he asks with barely contained mirth.

She slaps him on impulse, rolling over and away from him, burrowing her head into her pillow. "Don't ask questions you don't want to know the answers to, Castle," she mumbles into her pillow, already falling asleep.

She can't see him but she imagines he's smiling at her, despite the jibe. "I will take that as yes."

"I knew you would."

She feels him drop a kiss on top of her hair before he tosses her blanket over her arbitrarily, covering only half of her side and most of her head. She laughs haltingly into her pillow at his antics, too comfortable to be irritated, and lingers in the in between place between wakefulness and sleep, waiting for him to settle beside her. He does finally, after a trip to the bathroom and one to the kitchen, and then as she feels the warm press of his chest at her back, she finally gives in to slumber with the sound of his breath steady at her ear.

She has literally never been more happy.