AU episode insert for 3x07, "Almost Famous". Based on the prompt that Castle gets jealous of Beckett ogling the strippers. I've placed the full prompt at the end, so as not to spoil. Suggestive themes, nothing explicit; a high T rating.

Please note, I'm playing it fast and loose with canon on this one - I don't recall off the top of my head what exactly happened in the episode after the club scene where Beckett eyed the strippers - so let's ignore it all and suppose this did instead... ;) Thank you for reading; I had such fun writing this one and I hope you will enjoy it as well.

Bow Chicka Wow Wow

"Seriously?" She rolled her eyes in a fabulous sign of mildly amused exasperation directed right at him when he'd practically dragged her from that club. He would've even draped his coat around her if he'd gotten away with it; cover up that delectable, pale skin peeking out from beneath the teasing, tempting black lace she was wearing (why again had she dressed up for this?) - if he wasn't convinced she'd have shot him for it. "You sign people's chests; you cannot be shocked that I might appreciate the opposite gender just as much."

"The opposite gender, yes. But this..." He waved in the general direction of the club entrance, "I just figured you'd have better taste than that!"

Oh, shit. That's a glare. Oh no. He stumbled backwards two or three steps out of her reach, his mind frantically scrambling to figure out what to say to pull himself out of the hole he'd just dug for himself while Beckett advanced toward him, relentless in her pursuit, eyes shooting daggers at him.

"And whom do you suppose I should ogle, hmm Rick?" She rolled the 'R' of his name like a challenge. His back against the wall, figuratively and literally as he hit the cold brick of the building they'd just left, his eyes widened, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water as she poked his chest with her index finger.

Wow. She was so very hot when she was fired up like that, and he was so confused because last he checked this sort of close bodily contact was entirely out of the realm of possibility between them and yet here she was, near enough that he could smell the scent of her hair and that mysterious touch of something undefinable that was uniquely Kate, that made his heart palpitate and his blood pound and his body strain with desperately hidden need.

"That hunky motorcycle boy you showed off at the precinct the other day comes to mind?"

"He was a cardiac surgeon, if you must know."

"A cardi... Wait, 'was'?"

"We just went out a few times; it wasn't serious." She crossed her arms, wrapped them around her ribcage like a protective shield and suddenly the playful mood shifted entirely, something lost and lonely and angry in her eyes. "What's it to you? You have a Gina."

He dug his fingers into her hips; didn't even think it through, just dragged her closer, his thumb sneaking a feel of the soft, so soft skin of the hollow dip below her hipbone, and her eyes widened, mouth falling open on a shocked exhale. He felt just as shell-shocked, didn't know what any of this meant but it looked like a chance he'd dreamt about, a moment he thought would never happen. Like an opportunity he wasn't willing to miss. And he couldn't stand another second of Kate looking so forlorn.

"Why?" He leaned in, his mouth so close to her ear that she'd feel his breath against her skin. "You want to ogle me, Beckett?"

"Don't flatter yourself," she growled, but her voice was an octave lower than he'd ever heard and her eyes wide and dark, completely belying her words.

He knew what desire looked like and this? This was carnal.

"I'll make it worth your while," he promised, flexed his fingers to drag her closer so her hips bumped into his. Her hand closed over his shirt, fisting the fabric and he felt the sharp intake of breath lift her ribs as her eyelids fluttered.

"And no. There's no more Gina."

"Sit." He pointed at her couch, voice more gruff than he'd normally use with her, his nerves getting the better of him already. He followed behind her, completely enthralled by the curve of her ass, certain that she was adding an extra sway to her hips with every step she took. She looked back at him over her shoulder, eyebrows raised at his command but her teeth skating teasingly over her bottom lip, and heat speared deep in his midsection, his blood roaring south. Oh god, she was going to be the death of him.

They hadn't touched again, not in the car as he sat next to her, not in the elevator or on the walk along the hallway to her apartment, and the air was charged, the spark almost palpable between them, like a live wire of electricity that connected him to her, just ready to ignite, set them on fire, consume him wholly, unapologetically.

She dutifully sank into her couch cushions, relaxed against the back and crossed her seemingly endlessly long legs, her eyes sparkling with wordless challenge as she eyed him up and then back down.

He pulled out his iPhone, hit play on the playlist he'd researched on their way over - whatever would the world do without YouTube? Wiggling his eyebrows at her playfully, he placed the phone on her coffee table, then straightened back up, torso and hips bopping to the beat of the cheesy music. He ran his fingers up his chest, exaggerating every movement and she giggled, her toes tapping along with the rhythm. Slowly he popped open the top button of his shirt; noticed her eyes darken, the tip of her pink tongue skating out across her bottom lip and oh god, she was so not playing fair.

To be honest, he felt idiotic. He didn't dance very well in the first place, had never stripped for anybody before, and while he was not uncomfortable with his shape and his body, it was another matter entirely to show it off in such a blatant fashion. But he'd opened his big fat mouth, had teased and lured her, and she had called his bluff. And now he'd better live up to it; make it really good. He was fluttering with nerves, had to clamp down so his fingers wouldn't visibly shake as he flicked open his shirt buttons, but oh, the way she looked at him, her eyes tracking every move, the dark glint of appreciation, of blatant interest in her eyes?

It made him brave.

He dragged the shirt off his shoulders now, sliding it against his skin while he turned with the music, slowly, rolled his torso, shook his ass, looking over his shoulder and right at her just as her gaze slid down over the curve of his butt cheeks, her face flushed pink. He clenched his muscles and she bit her lip, and he almost faltered in his dance, his heart racing and stomach clenched in stark, undeniable anticipation.

He swung back around, flung his shirt at her and she caught it mid-air, the fabric clenched in her fingers as she brought it up to her face, buried her face in it and inhaled.

Shit, shit. This was the sexiest thing he'd ever done - and he'd done a lot of sexy things. But moving like this for Kate, revealing himself part by hidden part as the tension ratcheted up to a boiling point; the way she eyed him with blatant interest, with such admiration not just for his body but for him, all of him made him feel appreciated in ways he'd never felt before, free to give of himself openly.

He clicked open his belt, leisurely tugged it from the belt loops and then swung the length of it in circles like a lasso. She snorted on a laugh that was more like a giggle, the sound sending sparks through his blood. He wanted to never stop making her sound like that. Next came the button, then the zipper of his pants, and the sound of its teeth seemed to shatter through both of them, even above the beats of the music. Her eyes flew to his and she swallowed, her chest rising and falling rapidly. He wanted to reach for her, drag her into his arms, taste those almost toneless sounds that fell from her lips; ached to feel the flutter of her pulse that throbbed beneath the pale, warm silk of her skin.

Instead he swayed his hips, turning once more as he slowly dragged the pants down his hips, letting them drop to pool around his ankles and clenching his ass again in rhythm to the music. The chill of the room climbing beneath the loose fabric of his boxers did nothing to cool off the heat that had flushed his skin or the intensity of his desire for her. He faltered for a moment, knew that once he turned back around there was no hiding how desperately he wanted her, his arousal crudely tenting his boxer shorts.

The music crescendoed and he flung himself back around, whipping the crumpled pants off his feet. Kate gasped. He froze, stood before her almost completely naked, fingers tugging on the elastic of his waistband, flicking it against his skin once, twice. She never looked away, held his gaze, her pupils blown, her lips pink and wet and calling for him.

All or nothing, he pep-talked himself - and tugged off the boxers.

There was deafening silence; even the playlist had stopped and if he were at all coherent he would've congratulated himself on how well he'd timed his strip but he couldn't think, could hardly breathe as he stood before her in all his glory while she stared back at him. He swallowed, hard, his stomach muscles clenching with the movement. Kate drew in an audible breath, licked her lips again and he wasn't certain he was going to survive this night.

But then she raised an eyebrow like a challenge, crooked her finger at him, calling for him in a come-hither gesture and he flared with a fresh wave of raw, hard need.

He came for her, purpose in every stride as he stepped up to her, wrapped his hands around the side of her head, drawing her up. She slung her arms around his neck, crashed into his chest, her mouth meeting his with fiery urgency. He kissed her hard, deep, his tongue seeking, taking, drawing strangled moans from her that made his blood pound through his veins.

She sucked his bottom lip into her mouth, her teeth grazing and nipping. His hips jerked into her, his hard length sandwiched between them, the friction sparking through him like lightning, sharp and intense and raw with power. Her nails dug into his neck as he gripped beneath her thigh, hiked her leg up high against his hip while the other skated beneath her shirt, palms lingering against her warm, remarkably soft skin. She mewled at his touch, shivered as he played his fingertips against the concave of her spine.

"My turn to ogle," he groaned into her mouth; there was too much fabric between his skin and her delicious, lithe naked body and he couldn't wait to see her, feel every part of her; even in his wildest dreams he wouldn't have imagined anything like this.

The world tilted on its axis and just as suddenly he landed flat on his back on the couch, Beckett draped on top of him, skirt hiked up to her hips as she settled herself on him.

He felt her damp warmth through the thin shield of her underwear, his eyes rolling back in his head as she rolled her hips against him, circled deliberately.

"Kate," he groaned, sounded desperately needy and she bit her lip again, making his blood soar, his hips jerk.

Her fingers teased the edge of her lace top, slowly dragging it up her torso, revealing her porcelain skin one delectable inch at a time, her voice dark with seductive promise.

"I'll make it worth your while."

And she did.

AN: Written for the following prompt posted on the tumblr 'castlefanficprompts' page: Castle gets jealous of Beckett ogling the strippers. He takes her home and does a strip for her. Beckett is all over him. First time, if possible.