Hyperbole

A/N: A ridiculous little AU fic following the pilot episode. It's completely unrealistic, but that's the fun part. Please do NOT read if you do not like M fics. Fo reals.

"He asked you to dinner and you said no?" Lanie looks at her incredulously. "Girl, I'mma smack you."

"I kind of want to smack myself," Beckett mutters, drawing her finger through the condensation on her bottle of Dos Equis.

"What on earth possessed you to pass up a night with Richard Castle, who, if I remember correctly, is your favorite author? And who also happens to be sexy as fuck?"

Beckett shrugs. "I dunno Lanie, maybe I just didn't think we'd live up to one another's expectations. Can we just drop the subject?"

"When you say expectations … do you mean how he's hung like a horse?"

"Lanie!" Beckett hisses, blushing furiously.

"Girlfriend, you can't tell me you haven't thought about it. The way that man walks, that smug confidence? I bet it's huge."

"Seriously, Lanie, what the hell?" Beckett shifts against the sticky leather of the booth, thankful that the music pumping through the bar is masking Lanie's ridiculous musings.

Suddenly, Lanie's eyes widen and her face goes slack.

"Looks like you just got a second chance," she whispers. Beckett whips her head around just in time to see Richard-hung-like-a-horse-Castle walk up to their table. Esposito and Ryan flank him (traitors) wearing identical smirks as the three of them saunter up like something out of West Side Story.

"Ladies?" Castle asks in a voice smooth as butter. "Mind if we join you?"

"I don't think - "

"Of course we don't mind," Lanie says, cutting Beckett off with a pinch to the knee.

Beckett glares at Castle and he just grins. Like making her want to smack him is his goal in life.

It's actually fun.

Beckett hates that she's having so much fun. The drinks just keep coming, and Castle insists that every round is added to his tab. The boys are loving it, gaping at him like he's some kind of god. Beckett's sitting next to Ryan in the booth, and Lanie and Espo are squeezed into the corner on the other side. Castle is right across from her, and even though they're all participating equally in the conversation, his eyes linger on hers more than anyone else's. Half the time she meets his stare bravely, daring him to find any awe or arousal there, but the rest of the time she knows she can't manage to keep the thin veneer of annoyance in place, so she looks away; laughing a little too loud at Espo's jokes, paying a little too much attention to Ryan's crazy stories about his enormous family.

The alcohol is hopping in their veins, and the five of them are reluctant to part when the bell above the bar rings for last call.

"Hey, do you guys want to come over to my place?" Lanie asks, slurring her words a little as they reconvene on the sidewalk. The frantic flash of a neon sign pulses along with their excitement, blue and green on all their faces. "I know y'all are on call tomorrow, but it's not that late, and I may have made a big cheesecake last night that's just asking to be eaten…"

The boys' faces light up at the mention of cake and Beckett rolls her eyes. But then Castle's fingertips are on her back, dusting her blazer, and suddenly she can't open her mouth to decline.

"What do you say Detective Beckett?" Castle whispers in her ear. The moment is small, but it feels too intimate, like they're already a couple, like he's checking with her to make sure she wants to stay out as opposed to rushing home to roll around in bed.

"But hey, if you're tired, I could just walk you home," Castle adds.

Beckett steps out of his reach, bristling. "Uh, yeah, sure, Lane. Let's go to your place."

Castle isn't put off by her rudeness. He just sidles up next to her as the gang starts off towards Lanie's apartment.

"Detective?" he asks, offering his arm like the gentleman she knows he isn't. She eyes it wearily, but it's been a long day and her heels are starting to pinch. When she slips her fingers into the crook of his elbow, she knows she's made a mistake. She can feel all too well the full curve of his bicep and the heat of his skin. The sexual attraction that lies too close to the surface with them flares up and makes her ankles weak.

She makes it to Lanie's apartment without pulling him into an alley. Halfway through the walk, he'd brought his opposite hand up to where her fingers were resting in the crook of his arm. Just as he started drawing circles on the web of skin between her thumb and forefinger, the heel of her shoe caught in a crack on the sidewalk and she stumbled. Coincidence. Purely.

The hot flush of blood his touch brought to her face was just embarrassing. But she didn't stop him.

And then they're sitting next to each other on Lanie's couch, and she's sure she's not imagining things when he opens his legs a little wider and the warm length of his thigh slides against hers.

And then she crosses her legs and it's stupid, stupid stupid, but she lets her calf brush against his shin and she feels him go very, very still beside her, even as an exhilarating rush of adrenaline wakes up every nerve in her body. There's a burn between her legs, a hot heaviness that she hasn't felt in such a long time, and it must be the alcohol, because it's not possible to have such electrifying chemistry with such a jackass, right?

And then Espo misuses the word 'hyperbole' in a sentence and Castle takes it upon himself to educate everyone of the correct usage. Lanie's well past tipsy and she's just not comprehending anything Castle is saying.

"No, a hyperbole is not just an exaggeration," he reiterates, and damn, she should not be finding it so hot when four and five-syllable words roll off his tongue. "A hyperbole is something so unrealistic that you don't expect anyone to believe you. Exaggeration is a little inflation of the truth that could be possible. Like, if I say that my car cost $100,000, I am exaggerating. If I say that I spent millions on my car, that's a hyperbole."

Lanie asks him to clarify. For the third time.

"Okay, okay. Let me try again. So, think about a man's, uh, equipment. Saying my, er, man part is as big as a rolling pin is exaggeration, but calling it a third leg would be a hyperbole."

Oh, no. No, no no no no.

He should not have said anything about his 'man part' because now she's staring at his crotch and she knows she's had a little bit too much to drink because she just can't stop.

Lanie flops back over to Javi as he tries to clarify, and Castle tilts towards Beckett, his voice a touch on the gruff side.

"See something you like, Detective?"

She straightens into defense mode immediately.

"Pretty cocky there, aren't you, Castle? If you have to brag, it probably means you're not actually as big as you claim."

"I'm pretty average." He drops his voice, whispers lowly so only she can hear. "In length. But I am definitely thicker than a rolling pin."

"Exaggeration," she murmurs, shaking her head at the unbelievable size of this man's ego.

Something dangerous and wild flashes in his eyes, and she realizes that they're leaning into one another. No one's paying attention to them, but she feels like the room has stopped spinning just for them.

Suddenly, Castle clears his throat, and turns away from her.

"Hey Lanie, can I use your bathroom?"

"Sure, hon, s'at the end of the hall on the right," Lanie slurs.

Castle disappears down the hallway and Beckett stands up to get another drink. She can't decide if she wants a glass of ice water to pour down the neck of her dress or another whiskey on the rocks. She decides on the whiskey. It'll give her an excuse for what she's thinking about doing.

She downs the amber liquid in two gulps and heads down the hallway after Castle.

She doesn't knock. She just gets the spare key from the top of the doorframe, shoves it in the doorknob, and pushes the door open. She'll get her glimpse, see for herself if Castle's claims are true, and then go.

Only, he's not just using the bathroom.

His cock is in his hand, and he's working it with mouthwatering skill.

Not an exaggeration then. It's massive.

He doesn't stop stroking himself when he sees her, although his eyes flash angrily. At least, she thinks it's anger. It could be hunger.

"Beckett," he growls. "What the hell are you doing?"

"What the hell are you doing?" she counters, and even though she's aiming for offended, she just sounds intrigued.

"Well, I sure as hell can't go back out there until I've dealt with this." There's an edge of danger to his voice. "Either you get in here and join me or you shut the door and let me work myself down from all your damn teasing."

Her mind is screaming for her to turn around, back away, but she's completely silent as she takes a step … forward.

Another.

Closes the door behind her.

And boldly covers his hand - the one on his dick - with her own.

"Beckett," he hisses her name as she curls her fingers around his. Then she brushes him away so she's the only one holding him.

Her eyes are glazed over. She's hypnotized; all rational thought has completely ceased as she stares down at him, pulls and squeezes and strokes his exquisite specimen of manhood.

"So. Not an exaggeration then," she grits out through the mess of arousal hanging at the back of her throat.

"No," he says, groaning as she strokes him from base to tip, over and over. "It's not really a blessing though. It's ruined more than a few nights. Not just anyone can take it." Gone is the cockiness, the ego. In fact, his voice has the flat tone of someone who's been dealing with disappointment for a long time.

"Hmm," Beckett purrs. "Well, I guess I'd better give it a try. Seeing as I'm not just anyone."

She shoves him backwards onto the toilet and straddles him, silently thanking Lanie for forcing her into a dress and heels when she came to pick her up. She presses herself against him wantonly, painting his naked skin with the arousal that's soaking through her underwear.

She grinds on him, slowly, rhythmically, and lets her fingers drift down. She's just about to pull her underwear aside when he catches her wrist. He slides his other hand into the space between them and tugs the fabric aside. He rubs her from her entrance up to her clit, preparing to slick his fingers into her, but she shakes her head.

"You're going to want me to work you open a bit first," he says.

"Don't think I can handle it, Castle?"

"I know you can't handle it. Trust me, you're going to be too tight for me."

Beckett grunts. "Don't flatter yourself. It's not that big. I can take it."

He chuckles and starts massaging her clit. He kisses her neck, bites at the taut muscle he finds there, and when she's got her head thrown back, distracted by her own moans, he slides two thick fingers into her and pulls upwards.

"Christ, you're tight," he mumbles into the spot just behind her ear.

She realizes what he's doing and snaps her eyes back to his.

"Get your fingers out of me. I can take it. I'm a fucking cop, not some trembling virgin."

"Just let me make you come first," he argues. "You need to relax."

She leans in so close he can feel the moisture from her hot mouth on his ear. "When I come," she whispers, "I want to be wrapped around your cock."

"Fuck," he grunts. "You're so - hot. Well, if you insist."

Castle rips her underwear to the side and maneuvers her hips so that his wide tip rests at her soaking wet entrance.

Beckett tries to bear down, her weight on his lap doubling, but his biceps flex as his arms struggle to hold her up.

"Slow down."

"Just shut up and let me sit on your dick, Castle."

She's blowing his mind with all the filthy, gorgeous things that are coming out of her mouth. He can't really do anything but relent, so he lets go. She presses herself down again, and he feels her tight, so tight, around the very end of him, soaked and humming.

This is the part when he usually sees the woman's face fall and twist with uncertainty, sees the arousal flee to be replaced with insecurity.

Beckett's face is twisting alright - with a hard determination and an insanely sexy stubbornness. She's trying to impale herself on him, but progress is slow, so achingly slow, the slip of a millimeter here, the fractious glide of a centimeter there.

She's grunting, moaning, swiveling, groaning, anything to take him inside, and he wants it to work more than he's ever wanted it to work - but it's not working - it's not working -

And then it is. She lets out a surprised breath as she sinks the rest of the way, and then her whole body contracts around him, panicking at the intrusion.

"Told you," she whispers, breathily, then takes his mouth in an unforgiving kiss, her tongue invading him as he invades her.

She tries to slide back up off his cock and yelps. It stings. She feels like it's her first time, and she wonders briefly if Castle is ruining her for other guys, wonders if they're all going to feel insignificant after him. Maybe in other ways besides size.

But she bites her lip through the pain and slams back down, and Castle curses out her name.

It hurts, yeah, but it feels so damn good. Being filled. Being stretched. Being challenged. She thinks he could do that for her outside the bedroom too.

Three more strokes around him and she's trembling and dangerously close. He looks as if his head is spinning, like he can't believe this is happening, drowning in the pleasure of her wrapped so tightly around him and actually moving.

The next time she slams down around him she screams. He misreads her pleasure for pain and presses his thumb against her clit to help her enjoy herself. She's about to smack his hand away, because she wants to make this last, but the simple touch of his fingertip on her throbbing nerves just breaks her and she's suddenly coming hard around him, jerking and clenching as she rides him, biting and twisting as she squeezes the ever-loving fuck out of him.

"Oh, fuck, Beckett, I didn't know you were that close - oh fuck, fuck fuck."

He comes inside her in hot bursts that gush down around him as her inner muscles convulse.

Finally, she sags against him, still so full of him.

"That was incredible," he gasps.

"Mmm," she purrs. "You feel so good." She sounds dreamy, sated, and he feels something other than lust tug at him.

But when she moves, she moves, as quick and purposeful as usual. She pulls herself off him, tugs her dress back into place, and shoves her destroyed underwear into his jacket pocket.

"Beckett - " he starts, not ready to let her walk away. Not after he's had the most mind blowing sex of his life.

But instead of running, she turns back to him and raises an eyebrow. "Come on, Castle, let's go back to my place."

His grin spreads like sunshine on his face and he saunters towards her as he tucks himself back into his pants.

"Why, Detective, it's late. What did you have in mind?" he teases. "Coffee? Dessert?"

"Nope. I just want to do that again. And Castle? Next time, you don't have to be so gentle."

He swallows hard and follows her out of the bathroom.

A/N: Told you…ridiculous. Oh well, a little warmth this winter! For Eva - for being a fantastic friend and reader :) xx

For those of you who have been waiting, thanks for your patience :) Concocting a FF chapter at the moment, struggling a little bit with getting back in the groove but getting there slowly.

-Bri x