For Chole, who was asking me to write this before I'd even finished watching the episode. And for Alexis; you keep me well stocked in gifsets of that tie and I'll keep you well stocked in post-ep-porn, deal?

M-ratio: A measure of the health of a chip stack as a function of the cost to play each round.

"Come here." He growls to her, sending frissons of delight and arousal sparking through her bloodstream. His hands skim the curve of her waist, bare skin meeting bare skin and he hauls her into his lap.

She sinks down right away, shifting her hips in a slow roll that makes them both gasp. Castle lost his underwear several minutes ago - she had raised her eyebrow but said nothing when he chose to forgo them over his shirt - so now the only thing separating them is the delicate white silk and lace of her panties. "You're sure your family aren't going to walk in on us?"

"Our family." He huffs, waiting for her nod of acquiescence. For that, she gets the slick swipe of his tongue through her mouth, his fingers nimble at her back and unfastening the clasp of her bra. "And yes. Alexis said she'd call when they left the theatre."

Kate really doesn't want to know how that conversation came about, the knowing look Castle's daughter must have levelled him with. Right now, her fiancé hard between her legs, she doesn't really care. "Good. I want you right here."

He groans at that, kissing her hard and a little desperate. She finally manages to get the last of his shirt buttons unfastened and pushes the thing off of his shoulders. Castle tugs off her bra and dips his head to her chest, sucking her nipple into his mouth and rolling the other between his fingers.

Arching her back, Kate cries out and fists a hand in his hair to ride out the sudden intensity of it. These past few weeks, their every encounter has been imbued with the knowledge that they're getting married. So soon, and it's taking everything she has to rein in the little-girl excitement that wants to come spilling out every time she thinks of it.

Castle's fingers trace over the lacy waistband of her underwear and he grits out a curse when her stomach contracts, a ripple of tension dancing through her. "Do you have any idea how insane it's been driving me all day, knowing you're wearing this underneath your clothes?"

"Oh really?" She smirks at him, squeezing her knees a little tighter around his hips. It makes her fit a little more closely against him and he must feel how wet she is even through her underwear because he growls, his pelvis jerking in the cradle of her own. "And here I thought you were mad at me."

Even now, after almost two years, the way he kisses her still feels brand new. As if he's still a little surprised to find her here, as if he's learning her for the first time. And somehow, it's so familiar too. His hands are skimming the ladder of her vertebrae and he palms the back of her neck, drags her in against his mouth for a long and slow kiss. The kind that makes her toes curl and pop, the kind that leaves her gasping for breath against his cheek when he lets her go.

"I was never mad at you. How could I be, when you're the perfect woman?"

That makes her laugh and she shakes her head at him, draping her arms over his shoulders and leaning in close enough that her breasts flatten against his chest. The heat of his skin against hers makes her eyes flutter closed and she buries her nose at his neck, drops an open-mouthed kiss to his pulse point. "I'm far from perfect."

"Katherine Almost-Castle." He says, his eyes dancing with mischief when she pulls back to look at him. "You beat me at Scrabble. You wore a tie. Your idea of cheering me up is strip poker. I could not love you more."

"I love you, too." She murmurs, offering him a shy smile. He returns it, and she comes in to kiss him again. It's harder than he was anticipating; the slick of her tongue inside his mouth makes him jerk and then he's tugging her underwear down her thighs.

Kate lifts up to help him, kicking the scrap of silk out of her way. Wrapping her fist around him, she lifts up onto her knees and rubs him against her wetness. Twin groans echo out into the cavernous emptiness of the loft and she pants, lifts up a little higher so she can sink down.

Instead, his hands come to her hips and hold her in place, his mouth just brushing hers. "Not like this." Shifting her backwards a little, he guides her to straddle his thighs, his eyes slamming closed when he feels how wet she is for him.

The slow burn of their poker game had her right at the brink before he even touched her; she is so ready for him. "How do you want me, Castle?"

"Turn around and lean over the table." He says, his voice pitched low so it tears through her guts like thunder, decimating any chance of her not giving in to him.

At the precinct, she's in charge. She calls the shots and he (mostly) does as he's told. So when they get home, it's good to let him decide. She trusts him with her life; this is nothing. And he always, always makes it good for her.

Turning away from him, Kate stays kneeling and leans forward over their games table, planting her hands either side of her head. Her hips are rolling entirely without her permission, already bruising against the hard edge of the wooden surface, but she can't seem to stop.

Behind her, she hears Castle rustling around and then the front of his thighs align with the backs of hers as he kneels between her legs. The hard press of him against the curve of her ass makes her shiver and she bites back a moan, turning her head to look at him.

He circles her wrists in his hands and draws them both behind her back, leaving her breasts flattened against the surface of the table. Castle binds her wrists together with the tie she discarded on the couch earlier, and when he's done he leans in to kiss her shoulder blade.

"Okay like this?"

Kate groans, pushing her ass back against the cradle of his hips and letting him hear the moan that wants to come spilling out. How much it does it for her when he gets a little aggressive. "More than. Wait, Castle. . .your knee?"

He probably shouldn't be kneeling on the hardwood, not when his knee still sometimes makes him wince when they get out of bed in the morning. Snagging a cushion from the couch behind them, he pushes it underneath his knees and spans a palm at her waist.

"I've got my fiancée bent over a table and she can't even keep still because she wants me so much." He says against her cheek, warmth rising there to meet his mouth at the words. It's a little embarrassing, how much he can still make her blush. "You think I give a fuck about my knees?"

She laughs at that and then he does too, nuzzling at her shoulder. He slides inside of her in one slow thrust and she arches off of the table, biting out a curse. "Shit, Castle. You feel so good."

"Tell me about it." He groans, one hand holding both of her wrists. The other he snakes down underneath her, circling her clit with his thumb and pressing his grin against her shoulder when she cries out.

His thrusts are hard and sloppy and so completely perfect that she's already trembling with it, so grateful for the table underneath her. Closing her eyes, Kate lets the sensation of him inside of her take over. His thumb still circles over her clit, his mouth open at her shoulder blade and then his teeth catch the tendon at the top of her shoulder and she's gone.

Her body jerks wildly against his and he keeps moving for her, drawing it out until her toes and curling and her forehead is pressed to the table and beads of sweat are sliding down her calves from the creases at the back of her knees.

"Castle, babe, come on. Let go." She murmurs for him, her bound hands grasping to reach for him. Somehow, he manages to knot his fingers through hers and she clutches at him, rolls her hips and squeezes her internal muscles around him.

"Kate, Kate, oh God." He chants and then he's spilling inside of her and collapsing, spent and trapping her between his body and the table. At least he has the wherewithal to untie her wrists so she can free her hands, fumbling to stroke her fingers over the curve of his ass.

When he manages to peel himself off of her he leans heavily against the side of the couch, reeling her in to sprawl over his lap. She grins at him, teasing, and he's frowning before she even opens her mouth. "I should beat you more often."

"Whoa, no. No thank you." He grumbles, peppering her face with sloppy kisses. Kate stands up and heads for their bedroom, lifting an eyebrow at him when she turns back to see him still slumped, slack-jawed on the floor.

In the doorway, she leans against the frame and arches her back, watches his eyes get stuck on the proud flare of her breasts before he finally makes it up to her face. "Can you collect all our clothes and everything, babe? Oh, and would you pick up the Scrabble pieces? They seem to have gotten everywhere."

She can hear him grumbling about being whipped even from the shower cubicle.

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