The throb of a worsening headache circles her skull, winding around her head like a fresh laceration that no pain pill or aggressive massaging of her temples will soothe. Lying down on the job is far from her style, but Beckett has been arriving at the precinct earlier than usual for the past two weeks, staying later than everyone else, and between dividing her time with this case and the new crusade for justice that is controlling her life, she's exhausted.

A quick series of knocks on her office door have her opening her eyes beneath the shield of her hand, creasing her brow at the intensified throbbing against her forehead as she's met with the dim lighting of her office once more. She had expected Carl from CSU to be by with the requested information on narcotic signatures and heroine similarities, but not so soon.

Kate lifts her hand and feels her stomach clench at the sight of her husband in the open doorway.

"Sorry to disturb you, Captain," Castle quips, his throat working through a rough swallow while his eyes roam down the length of her body laid out on the couch where she's been spending most of her nights, lingering on her legs. "Well, not too sorry actually."

Beckett rolls her eyes and pushes her hand back into her hair, applying pressure to her scalp with the heel of her palm. "Should I even ask what you're doing here now?"

Her eyes have fallen shut again, but she hears the door's quiet snick and the soft padding of his footsteps approaching her.

"No, I don't have a good reason."

One of her eyes peel open just to catch a glimpse of that crooked smile. "At least you're honest."

One of us has to be.

"While I'm being honest," Castle begins, coming to a stop at the head of her office sofa and tilting his head to one side as he stares down at her, studying. "You don't look too great. Are you doing okay?"

No, she wants to tell him, she's miserable both physically and emotionally at this point, but she forces a weak shrug of her shoulders instead. "I'll be fine. Just a headache."

"Stress?" he assumes, his eyes flickering down to the edge of the couch, as if he wants to take a seat at her side, and she almost makes room for him.

"Yeah, I'm sure that's part of it," she sighs, dragging the hand fisted at her stomach up to rest at her chest, above her bullet scar hidden by the fabric of her dress, when Castle continues to watch her with those beautiful and oh so concerned eyes.

"Do you want to talk about it? It doesn't have to be - I mean - we don't have to discuss our marriage," he stammers, wincing through his words and rubbing at his jaw, scraping at her heart. Talking to her shouldn't fluster him, not like this anyway. "Unless you want to, of course. But there are other things we could… we can still talk."

The smile he offers her is strained, heartbreaking, and she can handle the man who wants to charm her again, to 'win her back' despite how unnecessary that is, but she cannot take the raw side of him, so wary and unsure of her all over again.

She prays to anyone who may be listening that she can put an end to all of this soon, eliminate the threat to her happily ever after before it crumbles before her eyes.

"I haven't been sleeping well," she confesses, noticing his shoulders slump just slightly, his chest expanding beneath the dark blue fabric of his shirt. "Haven't been getting enough caffeine either."

"Not sleeping well," he echoes and she gives in, scoots sideways to allow him extra room on the couch cushion. Delight ripples through his irises and he eases onto the edge, not touching her, but the warmth radiating from his body still manages to caress her skin beneath the barrier of her pale blue dress. "Where have you been sleeping, Beckett?"

"This couch makes a great bed," she murmurs, resting her head back further into her gun embroidered pillow, one of his favorite pieces that had made the move from her apartment to his loft, and now from his loft to her office.

But Castle looks horrified.

"Tell me that you are not staying in your office."

"Tell me you're not staying in yours," she parrots back, arching an eyebrow at him in challenge. Martha had made the comment in her departure, in hopes of tugging on Kate's heartstrings, she knows that, and it had worked.

"I don't like sleeping in our bed without you," he huffs, crossing his arms and pursing his lips, looking so much like a stubborn child that her lips quirk against her will.

"You're going to get a bad back," she mutters, stretching her arm forward to dig her knuckles into the bottom of his spine where a large majority of his tension usually gathers.

"The couch in my office makes a great bed too," he throws back, but his entire body is relaxing against the work of her knuckles. "And why are you under caffeinated?"

Beckett's hand stutters to a stop and he returns his gaze to assess her, to dissect her every facial movement, every shift of her eyes. Total immersion in his subject matter, right? That had failed to change.

"Because I… because of you," she grumbles, retracting her hand, mimicking his petulance and crossing her arms as a smirk begins to spread across his lips. "I'm not as great of a barista."

"Nah, I just spoiled you," he preens, allowing his arms to fall apart so he can drop a hand to the barriers of hers, rubbing his thumb across the delicate bones of her wrist.

"Yeah," she murmurs, lowering her eyes to watch the trail of his fingertips, migrating at a steady pace up her arm, lifting to graze along her hairline. Her head tilts into the cup of his palm at her cheek while his fingers circle at her temple, soothing the ache there. "You did."

"I could make you a cup," Castle suggests, his thumb trailing along the slash of her cheekbone, a pleasant warmth to her skin, a gentle heat igniting low in her abdomen. "Maybe bring you dinner while I'm at it. Something for the headache too."

Kate shakes her head, shakes free of his hand, shifting against the firm cushions to sit up. "Already took a few ibuprofen."

His eyes fall to her chest for a moment, observing the glimpse of cleavage the neck of her dress provides. "Have I mentioned how much I like this dress yet?"

"Fan of the new wardrobe?" she chuckles, pushing up from her elbows, finding herself rather up close and personal with him once again.

Rick's eyes flicker to her mouth, only a few inches away from him, close enough to taste the heat of his breath on her lips. "Very much so, Captain."

Beckett swallows, ignoring the familiar yearning flaring in her chest, the burst of need spreading through her bloodstream. But no, bad idea.

"I should-"

His hand descends to her bare knee, the simple touch more than enough to steal the breath from her lungs.

"Beckett, it is wholly unfair to me that you are dressed like this and I am hardly allowed to touch you," he husks, his palm broad and searing against her outer thigh.

His hand doesn't scale higher, not like she knows it would under normal circumstances, and she unthinkingly drops her head to his shoulder, takes a deep breath of his aftershave and the laundry detergent from home. Tears prick her eyes when his lips press to the top of her head and it's still a bad idea, one she'll probably pay for later, but her decision is made.

Kate curls her fingers around his ear and raises her head from the hiding spot of his shoulder, catching the electricity sparking in his gaze before she cranes forward to seal her mouth to the frown line of his. Castle stiffens at the claim of her lips, freezing for a split second before deflating with relief, surging forward with vigor to kiss her back with everything he has-

"Wait, wait," she gasps, using her grasp on his ear to stop him from chasing when she withdraws, her heart stuttering harshly against her ribs at the distress flaring in his eyes as she pulls away. "The blinds," she breathes out the explanation in a rush, in hopes to dispel that terribly dejected shade of blue. "We can't - need the blinds closed."

Rick stumbles to his feet and she would laugh if she could catch her breath, if controlling the beat of her heart wasn't stealing all of her energy.

She's about to stagger up from the couch as well, assist him in inconspicuously lowering every set of blinds over every window surrounding her office, but her husband is efficient when he needs to be and he has them concealed from every inch of bulletproof glass within seconds.

"Don't get up," he instructs, that delicious husk still accompanying his voice, and she doesn't disobey, but she does ease her legs from the sofa in a graceful move, crossing one over the other to curb the burn of arousal blooming between them.

"Castle," she hums impatiently while he sheds his jacket, tosses it onto her office chair to rest alongside her blazer. "Sit down and let me-"

"Oh no," he silences her, quieting her idea of straddling him on the sofa, grinding down until she can't think straight any longer. Though, he does a fine job of clearing her mind of coherent thought when he kneels to the floor in front of her, pries her knees apart with little effort or resistance from her end. "I want this first."

Oh god, this is going to ruin her, sweep away her resolve with every swipe of his tongue and stroke of his fingers, but Castle's hands are already scaling her legs, edging the slim skirt of her dress up her thighs. Her own hands join in without her consent, hiking the fabric up higher to allow her legs the freedom to part for him, her hips lifting when his palms glide beneath the material, hook in the lace edges of her underwear.

"Not fair to know you're wearing lace while I'm not around either," he grumbles, working the panties down her legs, past the spikes of her heels, and shifting back to settle between her knees, but Kate curls forward, cups his face in her hands and works to eradicate the hurt in his voice with the reassurance of her tongue.

Castle moans at the press of her lips, the sound low and rumbling through her frame, shooting ripples of arousal through her bloodstream. She tries to draw him back with her as she reclines against the couch, but Rick separates from her mouth, drags his lips down her throat, peppering kisses along the soft swells of her breasts and jerking her spine into an arch.

He smirks, using the hands at her waist to ease the fabric of her skirt further up and out of the way while the other quickly resumes its trail back between her legs, purposely slowing along the soft skin of her thighs, ignoring the insistent rise of her hips, bypassing where she needs him most to caress the sensitive skin of her lower abdomen, the jut of her hipbone.

"Castle-"

Her spine bows as he finally touches her, dragging his fingers through the slick heat threatening to spill down her thighs, stain the couch.

"Feels like you miss me," he mumbles, his lips like butterfly wings along her jawline, adding to the marvelous sensations his fingers elicit as they drag through her folds, up to circle her clit.

He knows exactly what she likes, what she needs, but he doesn't give it to her, teasing with light, languorous strokes and brushes of his thumb over her overly sensitized nerves that are far too soft instead.

"Of course I miss you," she groans, biting her bottom lip to muffle the sound. The windows may be covered, but the room isn't soundproof. "I always - Castle, I want you just as much as I always have. That hasn't changed," she grits out, fisting her fingers in his hair, unable to resist allowing her head to tilt sideways when he drifts down to her neck, suckles at the tender skin just beneath her jaw.

"At least one thing hasn't," he hums, dipping a single digit into the tight channel of her entrance, and Kate has to curl forward, smother her moan in his shoulder.

He adds another finger, glides inside and allows her muscles to grip and flutter before he's retracting both digits altogether and the protest surges up her throat. But Rick sits back on his heels before she can violently object, pushing the skirt of her dress up higher until the material is stretched taut across her hips and her husband is glancing up at her from between her thighs.

"Rick," she chokes out, her breath ragged, but his grip on her hips tightens, tugging her to balance on the edge of the couch just before his mouth covers her.

Beckett has to purse her lips as the fire spreads almost painfully hot through her senses, burning brighter when his fingers coil behind one of her knees, slick with sweat, and encourages her to rest her leg upon his shoulder. He grunts at the stab of her stiletto to his shoulder blade, a sharp point of contact that she's learned he tends to welcome, hums at the twine of her other leg around his torso, tugging him closer.

Her hips are dancing up to meet his mouth, jerking at the dart and slide of his tongue, the occasional scrape of his teeth that has her turning her head to the side, stifling silent screams with the pillow her nails are on the verge of tearing through.

"Kate." The sensation of his voice against her sends shockwaves through her core, spreading like fissures of electricity through every inch of her, and it takes every ounce of energy she has left, but she forces her eyes open at the call of her name. Kate twists her head away from the pillow to meet the eyes staring up at her, so very dark yet somehow luminous, alight with need and desperation.

That second of connection combined with a final, deliberate stroke of his tongue through her folds, the harsh scrape of his stubble at her thighs, breaks her apart, burns her alive, and his hand over her mouth is the only thing that silences her sob from echoing through the office.

Kate clings to the arm he extended upwards to quiet her as the aftershocks tremble and quake through her body, as he dusts his lips along her inner thighs before he eases her leg from his shoulder, squeezing her calf muscle when it flexes in his grasp.

She draws his hand away from her mouth once he's hovering above her, her abdomen quivering but still able to aid in lifting her into a sitting position on the edge of the sofa, her legs still locked around his waist. Beckett sighs against his lips when he kisses her, chaste and sweet, holding her when she leans into the cove of his body, lacing her arms around his neck and burying her face there.

"I miss you every night," she mumbles into his skin, combing her fingers through his hair.

Rick sucks in a breath, hugs her tighter and presses his lips to the edge of her eyebrow. "I think our bed probably misses us both."

"Soon," is all she can offer in answer, feeling the disappointment flood his system, radiate from his body onto hers, but she has no way of fixing it. Not yet. She can't go home, can't make him happy. Not if she wants to keep him safe. "Rick, there's something I should-"

The knock on her office door has them both startling, jerking apart even though Castle keeps his arms possessive and secure around her body.

"Captain Beckett?"

"Shit," she whispers, unwinding her legs from around her husband, lowering her heels to the ground and drawing Castle up from his knees with her. "Carl."

"From CSU?" Castle hisses, tugging her dress back down the length of her thighs for her, smoothing the wrinkles that aren't going anywhere without a thorough ironing.

"Yeah," she mumbles, attempting to tame his hair, brushing down the groomed strands she disrupted with the tangle of her fingers. "Just a second, Carl. Finishing up an important phone call."

"No problem, Captain. I'll come back in five," Carl calls back, the retreating sound of his footsteps setting them both at ease, giving them an extra five minutes that Castle takes immediate advantage of.

Rick snags her underwear from the floor, tucks them into the inside pocket of his jacket when she hands the outerwear to him with a roll of her eyes.

"How's the headache?" he asks, skimming a hand through her hair, brushing it back from her face and gentling the curls that went a little wild while she had her back pressed into the sofa and his head between her thighs.

Her brow quirks at the question, noticing that... huh, her headache is nearly gone, nothing more than a dull thud at the base of her skull, receding.

"Better, actually," she chuckles, watching his lips spread with amusement, and maybe a hint of pride that steadily morphs into adoration.

He shouldn't look at her like that, so fondly and devoted. He shouldn't have made love to her with his mouth either, but Castle obviously isn't too keen on following any of her unspoken rules.

"I love you," he says, gruff but earnest, and Kate drifts forward, her nose nudging his cheek before allowing her forehead to find rest against his.

"I know," she breathes, her lashes catching in his, blinking back the ever-present threat of tears before he can notice. "I love you too."

Their five minutes is almost up, she can hear approaching movement outside her office, and Castle sighs, regretfully, the warm weight of his hands at her waist falling away, thumbs unhooking from the pockets of her dress, and her mouth opens before she can think better of the words that are already spilling free.

"Come back tonight," she whispers, abrading her fingertips along the stubble of his jaw, savoring the taste of him on her lips when he kisses her, long and slow, stroking his tongue along the seam of her mouth but pulling back at the part of her lips.

He owes her nothing, not his time nor his love, and after what she's done, she's not under any impression that she deserves it. But she still wants it, still wants him, and she knows he won't deny her.

Not when he wants the same thing.

"I'll be here."