You don't have to have watched/listened to Hamilton, but it adds to the experience if you have :) Takes place any time while they're married.

This fic is rated a very strong T.

"What's your name, man!"

Beckett jolts awake at the sudden exclamation, heart tripping in her chest. A door slams and she hears the faint shuffling of shoes being removed. She grits her teeth and pinches the bridge of her nose, sighing. Castle's home.

The low rumble of her husband's voice drifts toward her and for the millionth time since they've been together, she curses his stupid bookshelf wall and loft's general lack of soundproofing.

"ALEXANDER HAMILTON!"

Oh, and he's drunk too.

She checks the time and narrows her eyes at the digital display on her side table. Two in the morning. Ugh. He's lucky she has tomorrow off. She rolls her neck, works through the tightness that came from falling asleep reading against the headboard.

Any time now, he'll barge into the room seeking her company - he's clingy when he's drunk - so she puts away the book and turns down the blanket on his side of his bed.

As expected, minutes later he stumbles through the doorway, hands only just catching the side of the bookshelf to steady himself. Beckett turns on the bedside lamp and it bathes the room in a soft golden glow of light.

Castle blinks dumbly at her for a few seconds, and then when he realizes she's awake, a dopey smile spreads across his face. He holds his arms out before him, spread wide, and his grin, if possible, grows even bigger. "The best of wives and best of women," he croons.

Hah, he's so drunk.

He clambers onto the foot of their bed on all fours, treading over her feet. His hair flops over his forehead, product long gone, and it makes him look so young. Handsome. His tie is half undone, hanging loose around the collar of his dress shirt, and he's just so adorable that it erases all traces of her earlier annoyance.

"Did you have fun at your party tonight, babe?" she asks.

Castle had been invited to an event held by Black Pawn that had started off with the evening session of Hamilton, and then moved on to an after party somewhere in Manhattan. He'd begged her to go with him, but she was so buried under mountains of paperwork, budgets, and reports she had to prepare for the 1PP that she had to decline.

She's seen the show so many times anyway - Castle's obsessed. Well. Okay, they both are but that's besides the point.

Her feet are trapped under the blanket and Castle's bulk. He's heavy and her legs can't quite carry his weight so she nudges him with her toes, digging them into his calves urging him forward. Closer to her.

"Come up here," she says. Whines.

The lines around his eyes crinkle with his smile and he nods, bouncing on the bed, jostling her. He doesn't say a word but he tugs on the blanket with a flourish and shoves it onto the ground. It results in a blast of cool air around her and she shivers. She glares at him, but he doesn't even flinch.

Okay. He's in one of his more playful moods.

His eyes seem to be drawn to the long expanse of her legs, bare under the oversized shirt she usually sleeps in. He drags a finger up along her right calf, still silent, and then bows his head down to lick a stripe along the inside of her thigh.

Mmm. Nice.

"Did you have a bit to drink?" she mumbles, sliding her fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp the way he likes it. He drags his eyes away from her leg and peers up at her. He smirks.

"Two pints of Sam Adams, but I'm working on three!" he says around a laugh.

Castle finally crawls up the bed on his hands and knees, one hand on each side of her body. A curious twinkle sparkles behind the mirth in his eyes and he rises up to place a chaste kiss on her lips. His tongue sweeps over her bottom lip and he leans back, rearranging himself so he's on his knees, straddling her thighs.

She rolls her eyes and reorganizes herself, sitting up against the headboard. Her hands travel up his back, reveling in the strong muscles beneath the thin material of his shirt. He's warm and welcoming and she applies some pressure against his shoulder blades so that he sinks onto her, his head nestled in the cove of her neck.

"Are you just gonna quote lyrics to me all night?"

His lips press against her collarbone and he blows a raspberry against her skin. "So this is what it feels like to match wits with someone on your level."

Beckett laughs, running her fingers through his hair. "Rick, I am not playing this game with you tonight. Once was enough, okay?"

He doesn't answer her, instead starts peppering her neck with clumsy kisses, tongue and teeth, and it makes her quiver in pleasure. His palm creeps under her shirt, fingers spreading wide over her rib cage and oh. His thumb brushes over her nipple and she stifles a moan. Yes... That's nice too.

She hums in delight at the sensations he's creating and she tilts his head up so that she can kiss him properly. She really does love him like this, all playful and carefree. His tongue slicks against hers and she gives in to him. He's mumbling something against her mouth, silly man, but his words are lost among the languid slide of her lips against his.

He smells wonderful despite being out all night, tastes of wine and happiness and her heart is soaring. She coils her fingers around his tie, pulling him closer still and he chuckles,his forehead colliding with hers. His nose nudges hers and she inches back to kiss it, tongue darting out quickly to taste the joy on his skin.

God, she's such a sap tonight.

When he pulls back, his eyes are half-lidded and a mischievous smirk adorns his face. He waggles his eyebrows. "I'm a bit of a flirt but you'll give me a chance?"

"Those are not the right words," she groans good-naturedly. "And no. It's late and we - you should sleep, babe."

Castle pouts, but doesn't move away. His hands slide further up her back, making her shirt ride up over her body. Ripples of desire spread through her with every open-mouthed kiss he bestows on her skin and she's torn between trying to convince him to sleep and having her wicked way with him.

He's keeping himself busy, nibbling, licking, oblivious to the battle going in her head. Heat unfurls within her, spreading through her veins and when he scrapes his teeth over that one special spot on her neck, she gives up the fight. Who needs sleep, anyway?

As if he can read her mind, he turns his head to look at her. His knowing smile is infuriating, but she's past caring now - just needs to feel him bare between her thighs and so she sneaks her hands under his shirt, finds her way to his belt buckle and pulls.

"Okay, stud. You win. Come on."

Beckett pushes off the headboard, hangs on to her husband so he doesn't fall over and in a well-practiced move, she pins him under her, trapped between her legs. He stares at her dumbfounded for a few seconds, caught unaware by her manoeuvre, but he recovers quickly, arousal darkening his pupils.

His fingers work frantically to undo the knot of his tie, but he's too clumsy, so he just pulls it over his head, flinging it somewhere behind them. He starts working on his shirt, growls at the fact that he can't quite get the buttons undone and Beckett chuckles, shaking her head at how affronted he looks.

He stops and glares at her, bucking his hips so she has to tighten her legs around him not to fall off. The contact is too entirely delicious.

"It's hard to have intercourse over four sets of corsets," he grumbles, rubbing a hand over his face.

She bursts out laughing at that, amused at her husband's dedication to whatever game he's concocted for himself in his head. She takes matters into her own hands and undoes the buttons for him, making sure her fingers graze against his body as she makes her way down.

"Hate to break it to ya," she murmurs. "But this the furthest thing from a corset."

The shirt goes the way of his tie and she slides his belt out next. Castle's hands rest on her thighs, drawing circles on her skin, and she can feel the desire already pooling between her legs. He's watching her with such burning intensity, alternating between meeting her eyes and zeroing in on her fingers, tracking them as she tugs his zipper down.

"Hmmm," she can't hold back the slight hum of appreciation when she parts the fly of his pants. His boxers are silk underneath, and her throat goes dry when she sees the outline of just how excited he is. She circles him with her thumb and forefinger, squeezing, sliding the material of his boxer shorts over his very obvious bulge.

Castle stifles a moan at her ministrations but his eyes don't leave hers, dark and stormy, anticipating. His voice is raspy when he speaks, dripping with sex. "'I'm helpless."

Beckett bites her bottom lip as she rolls her eyes again. Ignores him. Her hand finds the slit in his boxers, oh - he's so hot - and eases him through the opening. Her entire hand curls around his hard length, skin to skin, and she swallows the rising want, can't wait to sink down on him. Damn.

She licks her lips, teasing, and arches an eyebrow.. She makes sure he's watching, and he is - always watching - before she leans down, blows a stream of air over him that makes him twitch.

Her voice drops into the sultry tone that he likes so much and she smirks.

"Show me how to say no to this, how can I say no to this?"

End.

For all you guys who have to put up with my obsession with Hamilton. I'm not sorry. Love you lots!

Shout out to my lovely betas who made me use less 'moan's than I needed to.

Your thoughts are much appreciated.

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Twitter: estheryam