"We got a few minutes." He smirked, hitching his thumbs in his pockets, weight heavy on his imagined spurs, eyebrows a'wagglin.

"I'm game." She grinned, stepping closer, "Did you lock the door?"

"Yeah."

"And the other door?"

"Oh yeah."

They hit the bed.

"Can you just -"

"I'm trying."

"If you just roll left-"

"Or you roll right-"

"Or put your hand under-

"Lift your knee and just twist - ow - not like that."

"Your elbow?"

"No, the hat."

"I can't with this belt, Castle."

"My eye."

"My hair!"

Beckett sat up and smacked her husband on the top of his head, stilling his downward progression of her body, huffing a breath upwards to clear her vision.

Castle grimaced and shimmied, wiggled as best he could on the bed without poking her (or at least poking her in the bad way) too much.

"It's no use." She sighed, half way to giving up.

"No, no," he trapped his hand over her lips, smiling devilishly, "don't say that, Mrs. Castle."

"Don't call me that just to get your own ... oh," but she was already grinning against his fingertips, fireflies dancing under her skin, going with him as he tilted her backwards.

"Wife." He growled, crawling closer, tracing her lips before he kissed them.

She laughed into it, "There isn't enough space in this bed."

"Honey." He drawled, long and low and not at all playing fair.

She groaned, there was a reason here, somewhere, on the tip of her tongue, but he was making a great silent argument about using her tongue for other things. Like dueling with his own.

He pulled back, nipped her lower lip, "We have done a lot more in a lot less space, we got this. Partner."

He kissed the hollow of her throat, started in on the buttons of her shirt as she lay back and - mmm that felt nice - let him convince her.

Try, let him try. She wasn't already convinced, not one little - ohhhh, her husband was good at that.

"We have been -" he licked her skin, "rowdy in the storage room."

"Rowdy?" She chuckled, lost grip on the sound when he found - oo yes play with those.

"Rambunctious in the bunk house."

"Mmmm."

"Made you Yeehaw in the dressing room that one time."

Nearly got kicked out of the store, had to buy so much lingerie.

"Yeeeeh ... oooooooh mm."

Not convinced not at all, not helping undo her pants, not at all.

"And we have knocked boots-"

"Okay, that's not sexy."

"Is the way we do it."

Damn him, did he need to prove exactly that? Hands roaming and somehow now she was wearing his hat and when had she slid her hands in his hair?

"It's the smell of leather," he growled knowingly into the soft skin of her stomach, "gets you all -" he waggled his fingers.

Oh, not fair, not right there.

But yes, yes it did, mmhmm, all waggly fingers and curling toes and no that wasn't the leather so much as the man, her man, her husband, playing giddy-up all over her quivering skin.

"So, cowgirl-" he rolled and wiggled, wormed ridiculously but totally worked it, until he was drawing her over his lap to straddle his thighs, "- wanna go for a ride?"

Oh, god yes, she did, damn him and this stupid cheesy, totally perfect situation, she really did.

Beckett laughed and threw her head back, losing the hat before she descended. Fingers popping apart his own buttons now, spider walking his chest, "I suppose-" pop "I could-" pop "-mosey on down to-" pop "-the snake pit!"

Her hands found his zipper, searching out the cobra, and she rose up to land on his jean clad thighs -

The bed creaked. Mattress springs groaning under each bodily shift.

- she dropped down hard, shuffled closer.

The wood started to protest, metal groaned -

Beckett rose high, curled her fingers and -

- and collapsed, dumping the mattress and the newlyweds onto the ground with a thump.

Beckett sat up and huffed her hair from her eyes, shrugging her shirt back into place as Castle started to laugh.

She glared, pouting as he pulled her in close, "So not my honeymoon."