GOOD INTENTIONS

Sequel to 'Lure.'

For Ann, who really went out of her way just to get this sequel. ;) CONGRATULATIONS ANN! So happy for you!

She only comes to him at night.

He is sluggish, floating; a nebulous drift into awareness as her scent surrounds him, teases him; so vividly burned into every layer of his skin after today that he is sure he's dreaming, at first.

His room lays dark. Thin streaks of pale light bleed through the slats of the shutters, illuminating only the edges of his furniture and the slim silhouette of her body, standing by the edge of his bed. Her eyes wide, luminous as she watches him.

He aches to call her name, beckon her closer. To feel for himself if this surreal apparition of Kate Beckett at his bed in the middle of the night is not just a figment of his imagination. His throat feels stuffed with cotton balls, questions sticking against his tongue. He wants to ask how she was able to get into his loft but the truth is, he doesn't really want to know.

She is here.

It's the only thing that matters.

His blood rushes through his veins, loud in his ears.

Her eyelids flicker when she realizes he is awake; he can see the hitch of breath lifting her chest, a flash of contemplation in her eyes before she comes closer, her steps silent on the cherry wood floor.

The mattress dips slightly as she sinks down on the bed, right by his hips while she faces him, and his upper body rises up, drawn by the sheer force of her presence, her name a question on his lips.

"Ka…"

She captures the rest of the sounds with her fingertips, pressed firmly against his lips, tender but urgent as she pushes him down until his back sinks onto the mattress once more, her fingers tracking a scorching path down his throat, over his chest, coming to rest against his heart.

His breathing is shallow; he doesn't dare to move or speak, afraid to spook her when she looks at him like this, solemn and tender and so beautiful that it takes his breath away.

His blood rushes south, the yearning for her that he suppressed all day returns with a vengeance, breathing fire into his lower body; he clenches his fists, fighting his primal urges but his need for her is stronger; it is a fight he can no longer win. Not after today.

Her face is pale, cast in silvery shadows that emphasize her eyes, shimmering in stark contrasts- accepting, shy, longing, guilty and it's the remorse that aches him most; he never wanted this for her, for them. He freely gave her what she needed, no strings attached and yet all day she looked at him like that. Shy sideways glances full of emotions until his eyes met hers and she caught herself, turned away, her eyes downcast, her cheeks flushed. The air awkward, heavy between them. He has to fight the unmanly urge to cry at the palpable sense of all they might've lost.

And yet- here she is.

She is here, and she is touching him. Her hands are warm, certain as she explores his shape in the quiet, darkened shelter of his bedroom. He fights the urge to squirm under her ministrations, instead he tightens his body, afraid to move, in suspended agony when her hands roam over his ribcage, his sides, come together once more on top of his stomach.

She watches him, her eyes darkened, watches his every reaction with unbridled interest and a tenderness that aches him to his core. She trails her fingers around his navel, and the heat of her fingertips seeps through his shirt, dips deep into his lower abdomen and he can't contain the dark sound that rumbles up through his chest, his head pressing back hard into his pillow.

"Kate," he murmurs her name, both question and plea as he feels her fingers splay wide on his lower abdomen, a fingertip dipping low, stroking under the waistband of his boxers and oh Kate, what are you doing, Kate no-

"No!" The word bursts from his lips just as his hand shoots out, wraps around her wrist and he tugs her hand off his stomach, pulls her up, forward. She tumbles over him, catches her weight on the heel of her hand, her face hovering above his now, so close oh so close that he can feel the soft bursts of her breath tumbling against his lips. The heat of her body hums into his, only an inch of space separating her from being flush against him.

"Castle, please, let me-" she whispers, her words trailing off and only now does he become fully aware that her other hand is still firmly pressed against his stomach when her fingers clench, dig into his skin. His hips jerk up instinctively and she shifts her hands, slips underneath his t-shirt, her touch sprawling heated sparks along his skin, set fire to his lower body. She slides it down further, her fingertips a teasing graze below his boxers and her eyes shimmer in the darkness, alluring, pleading, persistent.

"Just let me…" And she wraps her hand around him.

He groans, a dark desperate sound that thunders through his body at the feel of her cradling him. Her slim, long fingers so tender, almost cool against his skin at first and yet he's set aflame, his blood singing, rushing toward the sweet sweet agony of her touch. His eyes are squeezed shut, his fingers clenched into the fabric of his sheets as he tries to keep his body from surging against her with the full force of his desperate yearning.

She doesn't move, only her breath skims across his face, warm and fast and he blinks his eyes open, finds her above him, her gorgeous face so close, and she is watching him intently, her eyes wide and earnest. His mouth opens, words, questions on his tongue but they stick to his throat, tumble forth as a strangled moan when she squeezes her fingers around him.

She wants this.

And, oh by all that is sweet and holy, he wants it too, wants her, whatever she is willing to give, he will take it, and right or wrong, it doesn't matter, nothing matters but the blazing path of her caresses.

Her fingers tender, talented, confident as she explores his shape and his hips twitch, his breathing getting labored, bursting forth from his chest in short, raspy gasps. But he keeps his eyes open, can't stop watching her while she observes his every reaction, and their eyes hold as she tightens her grip once more, the delicious friction robbing him of all coherent thought.

His whole body aches, the urge to kiss her vivid and consuming but she doesn't move closer, only watches him with those luminous, mesmerizing eyes and he understands, understands all of it and so he gives himself to her, body, mind, soul.

He allows himself to fall; let's go of the tight control he held over his body. Lets her take him further, higher, freely takes all that she gives, his hips squirming, jerking into her as she squeezes, slides, caresses with those soft fingers, her hand, oh god Kate's hand, and he is at once frenetic with want, uncontrolled, loud as he frees the aching sounds from his chest.

Her name a rumbled groan on his lips and then the world explodes in bright colorful sparks, his eyes roll back in his head, his muscles clenched tightly as he jerks into her, all control lost to the volatile blaze surging through him.

She holds him through it, her touch unbearably tender and he comes back to consciousness slowly, lethargically, blinks open his eyes and she is still there, her face above him, solemn, trusting.

God, how he loves her.

He can't catch his breath, his entire body flooded with longing that cannot be quenched by mere physical release and then she leans over him, presses her lips to his forehead in a gentle kiss, sweet and caring. She lingers just this side of too long, her body, her alluring scent, her softness so tantalizingly close; nudges her nose against his for an infinite moment before she pulls away.

She vanishes into the night as silently as she had appeared.