In the middle of the night, in my dreams
You should see the things we do, baby
In the middle of the night, in my dreams
I know I'm gonna be with you
So I take my time
Are you ready for it?

-Ready For It, Taylor Swift

The loud knock coming from his front door pulls his attention away from the screen, his fingers halting over the keyboard in surprise. Looking over at the time stamp in the bottom-right corner of the laptop, he's even more confused to find that it's past one in the morning. Who would be knocking on his door at this hour?

He transfers the computer from his lap to his desk, reluctant to leave Nikki and Rook in the middle of a scene when the words had been pouring out of him with such a perfect flow, but he hears three sharp knocks hit the door again and he decides he better go see what the hell is going on. His heart picks up speed as worst case scenarios suddenly occur to him. Alexis went over to sleep at Paige's house tonight. Something could have happened, she could be hurt, or need him-

He swings the door open, but the panic deflates from him as he sees who stands on the other side of the door.

"Beckett," he sighs, the relief immediate.

"What the hell is this, Castle?" she asks furiously, hitting him in the chest with what he barely has time to register is the cover of Heat Wave, before she storms past him through the door and enters the loft. Apparently he'd been so wrapped up in his moment of slight panic that he'd missed the anger burning in her eyes, and he's left there, slightly stunned, clutching the book she practically threw at him to his chest.

"This is… um, an advance copy of the book I wrote about you?" The sentence ends with an inflection that makes it sound like a question, because he's honestly not sure what he's supposed to answer. She knows what it is, so he has a feeling it's not really the question she meant to ask.

She spins on her heels to face him again, nearly halfway across the room now, as she'd been pacing in the direction away from him, and wow, he doesn't think he's ever seen her so angry. Which is saying a lot considering he's made a sport of annoying and teasing her over the past year. Her cheeks are flushed, her breathing a little heavy and he knows it's wrong to be thinking this right now when she's so obviously pissed at him but, damn it she's cute when she's angry. Sexy too-

"I mean page 105." She interrupts his train of thought. "What the hell were you thinking?"

That is most definitely not what he was expecting her to say. She came all the way over to his apartment at half past one in the morning to confront him about page 105?

And does she really want him to answer that truthfully? Because he thinks it's quite obvious he was thinking about her, about licking salt off of her creamy skin, her wrist, her neck, anywhere he could reach-

Fuck.

Yeah, he's not answering that question. Not when just the thought of it has his pants growing tight.

"I –Um… Well, I- ," he stutters because he highly doubts she wants him to spell it out for her - despite the fact that she asked the question - and he's really not sure what to say. She stalks towards him accusingly.

"See, that," she stops to point at him, "is exactly the problem. You don't stop to think about anything past your own damn self. People at the precinct will read this, Castle. What do you think they're going to think?"

Is she embarrassed about this? About the fact that things got a little racy between Nikki and Rook? So apparently, he can't have her in real life, or on the page. But this is his book and she doesn't get to come here and start telling him about what he can and can't write. He didn't write it to embarrass her, and she damn well knows it.

"Actually," he starts, his own anger beginning to boil from within as well. "I wasn't thinking about me at all."

Her eyes flash with something he recognizes as more than just anger, her pupils dilate and he can practically see the spark of heat flow through her body, her jaw tensing, her chest growing a deeper shade of red as she stops moving forward. And for the first time since she walked through his door it occurs to him that there might be more than anger to her showing up here.

It makes him brave, gives him the push he's been needing and hasn't had the courage to act upon over these last few months.

"I think you know exactly who I was thinking about." He takes a couple of steps in her direction and he watches as she backtracks, attempts to keep space between them now. "You already knew there was a sex scene in the book, Beckett. Agent Gray told you. And if you'd been really that upset about it, you wouldn't have hesitated to shoot me right then and there." He punctuates each phrase with a step forward. "So what's this really about?"

Her nostrils flare as she glares at him, but he catches the quick descent of her eyes to his lips before she can stop herself and damn if that doesn't shoot heat straight to his core. She doesn't answer him and he figures he's a dead man now anyway since she'll probably shoot him for getting so close, so he pushes further.

"I think you liked it," he tells her, his voice low and he sees her swallow as her back hits the edge of the kitchen counter. "I think knowing that I was thinking about you while I wrote it completely did it for you." He boxes her in, sets the book down, his hands landing on the counter by her waist and the sharp breath she takes in has her chest brushing up against his, his blood running south. He can't stop talking, not when she isn't stopping him, maiming him in any way, isn't grabbing for his nose or tearing him apart limb from limb. "I think you-"

He doesn't get to finish, and he forgets what the hell was about to leave his mouth because suddenly her lips are on his, swallowing the rest of his sentence, her hands gripping the front of his dress shirt as she pulls him forward. Her lips are rough against his, taking and claiming as she plunders his mouth, her tongue slipping right in when he gasps at the feel of her sharp nails piercing his skin. He's surprised, but it only takes him a few seconds to catch up, his hands flying to her slim waist and pulling her closer. His heart thunders in his chest and the thought that holy shit, he's kissing Kate Beckett - that she kissed him because she was apparently very turned on by the sex scene he wrote about her - has him groaning against her mouth. Their lips part after a few seconds, both gasping for air, but he's nowhere near ready to let her go, so he lets his lips trail across her cheek, kiss at her jaw and the silky smooth skin covering the column of her throat. A wanton sound makes it past her lips when he sucks on her pulse point, and if he wasn't rock solid already, that sound, knowing its coming from her and that he's the one to bring it to life, most definitely would have done it.

Fuck, he wants her.

She's too goddamn sexy for her own good. She's witty and smart and funny and god, there's nothing he's wanted more in the past year than to have her mile-long legs wrapped around him, gripping him as she writhes against him. He's spent hours fantasizing about her and it suddenly hits him that he has her. Right now, she's his. And he'll be damned if he doesn't do everything in his power to ensure that she never wants to let him go.

He'll give her the best night she's ever had, make sure that by the end of it she remembers nothing but his name.

With renewed intent he runs one of his hands along the outside of her thigh and curls his fingers around the back of her knee, hoisting up her leg so that his center aligns perfectly with hers.

"Castle," she moans when the ever growing bulge in his pants comes into intimate contact with the apex of her thighs and hearing his name spill from her lips has something tightening in his chest, his already urgent need growing feral. He forces his lips to move away from her neck and continue on a path south, his tongue stroking the sharp ridge of her collarbone and his hands move up to lift her shirt, desperate to expose more of her silken skin, to see and feel it against his own.

And she lets him, whimpers at his soft and unhurried touch as his hands slowly make their way up from her hips, past her navel and across the bumpy plane of her ribs until he reaches the underside of her breasts, his thumbs skirting the underwire of her bra.

She lets her body fall back against the counter, the bulk of her weight resting on her elbows and the natural arc of her spine has her lower body pressing even harder against him. He can feel the heat radiating off of her despite the two layers of clothing that still separate them and it has his hard length painfully straining against the confines of his pants, throbbing for release. He releases a harsh breath against the swell of her still covered breast and wills his nether region to reel in its eagerness to just take her until they're both seeing stars, because he has to make this about her, needs to show her that this is something worth coming back to, has to make sure it isn't something she'll regret the moment it's over.

He knows once will never be enough for him, not with her. Hell, he's not sure he'll ever get enough, but it's way too soon to be thinking about forever with her.

Tonight, all he has to do is show her that this is worth a shot; that they are worth a shot.

So he cools his pace, ignores the liquid fire pulsing through his veins and redirects his focus to her, the way her erratic breathing has her chest pushed up towards him, the way her leg is still wrapped around him despite the fact that he's no longer holding it up.

She wants this. The thought spurs him on and he acts impulsively, lets his hands crawl back down her body and he hoists her up on the counter. She gasps in surprise but he swallows it whole, takes advantage of her open mouth to claim her lips again and tangle his tongue with hers, twining in a dance they shouldn't be so good at when they've had so little practice. He always knew they'd be explosive, that she'd light his world on fire the moment they touched. She doesn't disappoint. She's hanging on to him, her fingers coiled tightly in his hair, her legs wrapped around his middle, holding him close, but oh, he has plans for her and this counter and he is not letting her deter him, no matter how talented her mouth is or how good her body feels pressed against his.

God, he'd be happy to just kiss her forever.

But, there'll be time for that later if he can convince her to stay.

He reluctantly leaves the newfound sanctuary of her lips and lifts her shirt up the rest of the way, quickly passing over her head. Her body is angled backward and he's nearly on the counter himself as he holds her, his hands at her back steadying her and holding her weight as she frees her arms from the short sleeves. He can't get over the softness of her skin, how good it feels under his bare hands, how they practically engulf her lithe frame as he spans her waist. She looks delicate and fragile but he knows how looks are deceiving. She's strong and though he helps to support the weight of her body, he can see the work of her muscles, her abs under her pale skin, knows how powerful her body can be.

When her shirt hits the floor he wastes no time in exploring the newly uncovered skin she's just revealed, groaning when he sees her lean back on her elbows once more and tilt her head back on a moan as his lips brush the spot just below her breast.

Fuck, she's going to ruin him. He wants to hear her make that sound again and again, wants to witness her fall over the edge, to see her face as she rides the wave of pure ecstasy that takes over her body.

And just like that, he has a new goal. He lays soft kisses down the edge of her sternum, moving lower still until he reaches her navel and he can't help but dip his tongue in, swirl around it, a foreshadowing prelude to what he has planned.

The muscles of her abdomen twitch and quiver under his touch, her breathing heavy and she mewls when he licks along the seam of her pants. Their gazes lock as he looks up at her for permission. Her nod and the heat in her eyes are all the confirmation he needs before he unbuttons her pants and slowly pulls down the zipper inch by inch. Kate's legs tighten around his waist and she uses his body as leverage to push herself up, her lower body suspended over the counter, helping him tug down the material of her pants. He follows their descent, running his hands down the legs that have featured in his fantasies more than a couple of times over the span of the last year. He lets the jeans fall to the ground and touches his lips to her left ankle, relishing in the resulting arch of her spine as she lists into his touch. He kisses his way up her calf, her inner thigh, occasionally nipping with his teeth and soothing the bite with a swipe of his tongue. Her muscles spasm the closer he gets to her center and he can practically smell her arousal, can see the wet line coating her panties as she lies on the counter, her legs open, exposing herself to him.

God, he's never seen anything so beautiful in his life. He wants to live in this moment forever, wants to taste her and –

"Castle, please," she begs, interrupting his thoughts and he all but comes right then and there, her voice desperate and needy as she begs for him, urges him to move. "Touch me."

Fuck.

She doesn't need to ask him twice. He breaches the remaining distance between his mouth and where she wants him most, exhales hotly over her and she cants into him, her body seeking, wanting more. He doesn't make her wait any longer, quickly divests her of her panties and touches his tongue to her sensitive nerves. A strangled sound leaves her lips and her back bows, arching into him but he steadies her, sets a dizzying, maddening pace, wants to build her up slowly, keep her on the edge for as long as possible.

Her legs wrap around his shoulders and he groans, sending vibrations through her as her heels dig into his back, a testament to her pleasure. She's so wet and ready, he almost wishes he would have skipped this so that he could bury himself inside her, but the taste of her is worth it, the slippery feel of her under his tongue isn't something he would give up for anything right now.

He pays attention to her body's every reaction, every twitch and roll of her hips, every time her thighs clench around his face, her body listing into his, desperate for friction and god, there's no way he could miss the erotic sounds leaving her lips. It's the biggest turn on he thinks he's ever experienced and it doesn't even involve her touching him. The way she responds to him, how vocal she is about her pleasure. It undoes him.

And it only has him wanting her to feel it all. He asks and her body answers, tells him everything he needs to know about what she wants, what she needs to take her higher and when he sucks just a little harder he feels the tension ripple through her, feels the muscles tightening, on the verge of release.

"Rick, oh god, please don't stop," she moans, her voice an octave higher than usual and the sound of his first name falling from her lips has him doubling his efforts, flicking his tongue over her clit, lapping at her juices with renewed enthusiasm. Her back arches as she breaks and he follows her orders, doesn't stop, helps her ride out the wave, but he does look up to watch her, the way her eyes slam shut at the onslaught of pleasure, her mouth open as she just feels.

It's one of the most beautiful things he's ever seen.

When her body unwinds and begins to loosen he's still licking, drawing tremors from her even as she comes back down from her high.

"Castle," she chokes out. "I can't-"

She doesn't finish the sentence, but he understands what she means nonetheless, leaves her overly sensitized nerves in favor of laying soft kisses to the inside of her thighs.

"Come up here," she breathes as she tugs at his hair and pulls him up so that his body covers hers over the kitchen counter.

Rising onto her elbows, she meets him halfway and kisses him soundly, wasting no time before plunging her tongue into his mouth, and she moans, most probably tasting herself as their tongues tangle for dominance, the kiss hungry.

He's astounded by her lack of need for any recovery time, how her body continues to respond to his in an all-consuming way, her legs still wrapped around his waist, her lower body already starting to undulate and holy fuck, he's definitely going to shoot early if she doesn't stop that right now.

"Not here," he mumbles against her lips, and he hoists her up against him, off the counter and starts to make his way towards his bedroom. He thanks whatever higher power up there that he knows this route like the back of his hand because he cannot see a damn thing, nor can he think about anything past the fact that her hands are in his hair, her lips at his neck, sucking and nipping and he's pretty sure that's going to leave a mark.

He doesn't care one bit. Kate Beckett can mark and claim him any time she damn well pleases. He's hers. Hell, he has half a mind to pump his fists in the air and show the entire world the marks she's leaving on his skin.

And there's no helping the groan that escapes his throat when she takes his earlobe between her teeth, flicks it with her tongue. He's halfway across the office now but he honestly has no idea how much more he can take before he spontaneously combusts. He hasn't even been inside her yet and he's already ruined.

"Kate," he growls when her hips rock against his and his knees nearly buckle, almost has him losing his grip on her.

"Hurry up, Castle." Her voice is low, teasing and he knows he's damned because she knows exactly what she's doing to him.

"I swear to God, Beckett, if you don't stop doing that, this is going to be over way sooner than we both would like it."

She behaves – somewhat – for the next fifteen seconds it takes him to cross the distance from his office to his bed, but all bets are off when she notices they've arrived at the intended destination. She untangles herself from around him and as soon as her feet touch the ground she's on him, her fingers making quick work of unfastening his belt, the button of his pants and pulling down his zipper. He barely has time think, to form words, before her hand wraps around him, skin to skin, and he gasps.

"Kate, Kate, Kate," it's the only thing he knows, the only word his brain can remember, all other neural paths short-circuiting and all that's left, all he can think of, is her name. She strokes him once, twice, and swallows his moan with her lips, seeking his tongue with hers, hungry and desperate. Her hand is warm and a squeezing vortex of pure pleasure but he knows he won't last if she keeps touching him like this, if her deft fingers continue to pump up and down the length of him with such skill, and fuck, all he wants is to be inside her. He needs- can't-

"All of you," he groans. "Please," he says, his voice strained with the effort of keeping himself in check and making sure he doesn't explode with her next stroke. "I want all of you."

She lets him go, and although it's what he wanted, what he asked for, his body still mourns the loss instantly, craves the heat of her hand the second it leaves him. But he knows the best has yet to come.

She pulls his pants and boxers down his legs in one smooth motion and he shivers as she lets her nails scrape up the back of his thighs and along the curve of his ass. Her hands stay there and she looks up at him, a bright smile curling her lips upward and he can't help but laugh as she squeezes his cheeks.

"Everything okay there, Detective?" He asks, letting his nose touch hers.

"Everything's great, actually," she responds, her voice low and carefree and happy. He doesn't know if he's ever seen her so happy and he vows to make it his top priority for as long as she'll allow him to keep showing up. He wants nothing more than for her to smile like that every day, and to be cause of that joy… it's an unparalleled feeling.

Reaching behind her, Kate unsnaps the hook of her bra and lets it fall to the floor. God, she's so beautiful.

He quickly unbuttons his dress shirt, lets it roll off his shoulders and hit the floor and they're skin to skin now, completely bare to each other and still, he wants to be closer, yearns to have her let him in; into her heart, her life. He just wants the chance to show her how great they could be.

With her hands still gripping his ass, keeping him close, she walks them backward towards the bed until the back of her calves hit the mattress. She lets her knees bend until she's sitting on the bed, level with the hard evidence of his arousal and she glances down at him, then back up to meet his eyes, licking her lips and biting her bottom lip.

The suggestion is obvious, her offer to return the favor an enticing one but he knows he'll explode the moment her mouth touches him and that can't happen right now, not when he's minutes, maybe seconds from being allowed deep inside her. And if he's lucky, if he manages to convince her to give them a shot, then there'll be opportunity for that at a later time.

So instead of giving her the go-ahead he bends to take her lips with his, nudges her body back onto the mattress. They make their way up the bed together until her head rests comfortably on the pillow. Her legs come up to bracket his hips, pulling him closer to her center until the proof of her arousal meets his, his hard length gliding through her wet folds and they both moan, mouths separating from the deep kiss they'd been sharing and gasping for breath at the burst of pleasure.

Holy shit, he doesn't think he's ever been so aroused in his life and it takes everything for him to think past the urge to dive in and connect with her in the most intimate way immediately.

"I'm clean," he grits out between heavy breaths, knows he has a responsibility to let her know she's safe despite the fact that it'd be easy to get lost in her and forget about it until morning.

"Me too. I'm on the pill," she assures him, kissing the sharp edge of his jaw, nipping at the stubble.

"Do you want me to-"

"All of you," she whispers, interrupting his offer to put on a condom and echoing his words from minutes earlier. "Right now," she urges, punctuates the demand with the tightening of her legs around him and his length slides against her clit once more, pulling a gasp from her lips and a groan from him.

God, this is the most exquisite torture. Oblivion threatens to swallow him whole and he's tempted to give into it, to just let it all go and ride the intense wave of pleasure he knows will possess him. But she deserves more and he desperately wants to be the one to give it to her.

He forces his head up so that he can look at her, wants to see it all in her eyes. Her cheeks are rosy from the arousal, her breaths coming in short pants and when he reaches down to position himself at her entrance she swallows hard, her throat rippling in anticipation, her teeth clamping down tightly on her bottom lip.

And then he thrusts forward gently, lets himself fall into her slowly and forces himself to keep his eyes open despite the sharp burst of pleasure that erupts through his lower body, the sparks shooting through his core. It's worth it.

The sight of her, is so, so worth it and if he wasn't absolutely sure before, he knows it with absolute certainty now: Kate Beckett is extraordinary. Her mouth falls open on a gasp as he enters her, inch by inch, and the quiet sound of pleasure that leaves her throat as her head falls back into the pillow and her eyes clamp shut is just about the sexiest, most remarkable sight he's ever had the chance to experience. She's letting herself feel, letting everything else but this moment go, and it fills him with renewed desire to ensure that this will be a night to remember for her.

"Castle," she breathes his name and laces her hands at the back of his neck, pulling him in closer, kissing him deeply.

Slowly, he starts up a steady rhythm, sets a languid pace and revels in each stroke inside her, the walls of her body gripping him so tightly he wants to weep with pleasure, never ever let her go. She keens, her back arching as he hits a particularly sensitive spot and he bites down on the sharp edge of her collarbone, can't help it when she grips him like that. Her breasts are flattened against his chest and they're so close he can feel her body's every movement, every spasm and jolt of pleasure as it runs through her, every moan and sigh and groan as she climbs, the blissful pressure escalating. His skin brushes against her clit with every thrust and he feels the way it travels through her, has her shaking within the cradle of his arms, has her holding on tighter, her nails leaving crescent marks on the skin of his neck, her fingers wound up firmly in his hair as she just rides.

His eyes slam shut, the intensity almost too much, his limbs and skin on fire, set aflame by her touch, her voice, the way she clings to him and whispers his name every so often.

It's never been like this, never has he been so wrapped up in his partner's pleasure, in the sight of her ascent to the stars and he knows he can't go back, doesn't want to have anything but this ever again.

"Kate," he moans when he feels her inner walls begin to flutter around him, holding him in a vice and the sparks of ecstasy start to tingle at the base of his spine. Fuck.

He can't hold on for much longer, but he needs to make sure that she's with him, that she –

"Let go," she breathes against his lips. "I'm with you. Just let go, Rick." He opens his eyes to see her staring back at him, her palms cupping his cheek, her face honest as she openly lets him read everything she feels and it's … God, it's too much.

The way she looks at him sends him barrelling over the edge, one, two, three sharp thrusts and he's lost to the all-encompassing wave of pleasure that crashes into him, his entire body paralyzed with it, colors so bright behind his eyes he's blinded for a few seconds. She follows him over the cliff, freefalls into unknown territory and reaches heights she didn't know were possible.

Her grip around him doesn't loosen, and he thinks he may have blacked out for at least several seconds, completely overtaken by sensation and lost in her. When he comes back to himself and recovers enough to take in his surroundings, he revels in the fact that she's still here, hasn't pulled away and he wraps his arms around her, hugs her to him, buries his face in her neck, her hair.

She lets out a shuddering breath, after a few moments and pulls away only far enough to see his face.

"I don't know if I should be telling you this because I have a feeling it's going to inflate your ego but I… I don't know that I've ever felt anything like that," she admits and his heart goes wild, pounds in his chest with joy and relief that she felt this just as intensely as he did.

"Me neither," he says, not bothering to hide the wide smile that splits across his lips. It's everything he'd hoped for. "Kate, that was incredible, mind blowing, absolutely pheno-"

She stops him with a kiss and he doesn't mind a single bit, her mouth swallowing the rest of his praises like it's the most natural thing in the world, like this is something that they do.

He wants it to be.

She rolls him over, not starting anything more just yet, still needs to rest for a bit, but she settles against his chest, her arm coming around him as she lets herself deflate against his side.

"You're not leaving?" He can't help that it comes out sounding needy, like he needs reassurance that she doesn't want to go.

"Even if I was capable of walking right now, Castle, I wouldn't be leaving," she tells him, her fingers tracing gentle patterns against the skin of his stomach.

"Good," he tells her, holds her a little bit tighter and inhales the comforting smell of her hair. Part of him knows it's too soon to be thinking things like this but he can't help it. He hopes she never leaves.

A/N: A special thanks to Nellie for this prompt. I hope you all enjoyed the Castle Pornado weekend! I know I did ;) Thank you for reading, I'd love to know what you all think! - Zoe

Twitter: ZoeKeller

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