Musings of a Lady in a Red Dress by Starbuck0322

Chapter 4... late hour wanderings... the final chapter...

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Outside the apartment of Richard Castle, rain falls in sheets upon the streets of Manhattan. The night's air is cool, a wind rising in the city, winding its way down vacant streets.

Inside the apartment, footsteps fall upon lavish wood flooring, treading their way across the threshold of the bedroom of Richard Castle.

Placing a hand on his shirtless shoulder, Kate Beckett takes a seat beside the writer who is nestled in his bed, she is smoothly whispering, "Castle?"

He murmurs and shrugs off her hand, pulling the bed sheets over him, saying, "Mom. It's not time for school yet. Just five more minutes."

Annoyed Beckett pulls her body onto the bed, raising one leg over him, straddling his waist. Lifting her voice slightly she says, "Castle. It's me. Beckett."

Castle shifts slightly rubbing his eyes, attempting to focus on his visitor.

"Wha?" he begins, hands drawn to his face, he rubs his eyes. "Detective?"

"Hi Castle," she says, readjusting her position. His body is warm beneath her.

Shaking off the remnants of sleep, grasping at the present situation, Castle smirks, looking up at her. Her hair wet, dripping, eyes dark and wild. The light from the street floods his room across his bed to him and his muse.

He shakes his head lightly, "What's up Detective? To what do I owe this pleasure?"

She is looking at her hands placed on his chest but doesn't answer.

He is trying his best to search her features, trying to read her, but the variable lighting in the room is challenging his analysis.

"Kate?" he continues. "Are you ok?"

"You never told me Richard. How is it that you know me so well?" She finally utters leaning back, grabbing her shoes throwing them to the floor.

"I'm a writer Detective. It's what I do."

She draws a fist, punching his arm.

"Ow," he utters, reaching up to rub his shoulder.

"Tell me oh wise writer, did you see that one coming too?"

It seems as if in one instant, he is grabbing her legs flipping her over onto her back so he is above her now, her legs still straddling him. A moment of shock traces across her face. She is playfully biting her lip again.

"You want to get rough Katie?" he says reaching below him to grab her wrists, placing her hands over her head, "Because I can play rough."

But she is not affected by him, instead looks at him teasingly, lifting her head slightly. "Just answer the damn question, Castle."

He takes a moment releasing her hands slightly, hands travelling down the sides of her body. He leans into her, the hair on her arms rising to attention, his focus intent. His face inches from her, breath warm on her cold skin, the heat rising within him.

He smiles, then, "Do you have any idea how many times I undressed you in my mind? Imagined what you looked like under those smart suits. That Detective, is how I knew your dress size, how I knew how each inch of material would fit you so perfectly. I didn't need to guess. I knew. Like I could have written it myself."

She can feel his breath on her skin, can feel the hesitation in his hands on her body. Eyes intent on hers, she lets a small gasp as his fingers find the seam of her skirt, edging slowly upward on the outside of her leg. Instantly her breathing increases, as he looks down to see her chest rise. He stops inching forward, looking to her eyes, her lips, searching for hesitation, searching for a silent plea for him to stop. But she offers nothing, caught in his grasp, the weight of his body pushing against her, she has surrendered.

"You curious Rick?"

"You have no idea," he says, eyes travelling down the length of her legs, long and muscular.

She cocks her head slowly raising her lips to his. They meet kneading, pleading, lips parted, tongues gently prickling. Her breath increasing as her tongue travels further into his mouth, searching. His grasp is steady, one hand holding his body above her, the other cupped behind her knee.

He is the first to pull away from their kiss. A boyish smile spreading across his face, the passion growing within him, that she can feel all to easily pressing against her. He is attempting to collect his thoughts, he here, she there. This is Kate Beckett below him, a look of hunger on her face. But all that he can process is how delicious she looks in the dim lighting, how his body wants so badly to devour her, how the scent of her is taking over his senses. And he thinks back to the first moment he saw her, how he was certain he would eventually be here. Whether or not he had written it himself.

"Kate?" he begins, but she shifts her body under him, arching her back slightly, leaning back to balance on her elbows, rocking against him gently. His eyes close in an instant, letting out a sigh, he leans forward, arms flexing.

She pulls her face closer toward him, her hair brushing his cheek, her breath against his ear, whispering, "You look nervous, Mr. Castle." He feels her smile against his cheek, "Don't be." She brings her lips back to his, hungry, temptation urging him on.

She pulls away, lying back, wild eyes looking to him as she continues to shift beneath him. His hands finally moving down her leg once again, "Jesus Beckett." Fingers playfully grabbing at soft fabric, finding an elastic, carefully tugging.

The triumphant smile returns to Richard Castle's face as he pulls his prize, gently tossing them to the floor. Warm hands travel the length of her again, soft and inviting to his will. Gentle tugging movements and Kate Beckett groans under him, her hands pulling at her shirt, disrobing hurriedly. As he traces lines, she cannot find words, cannot find images, warm and accepting she is of his talents, her breathing quickening, her face twisting with each prick.

His eyes intent on her, watching her face, quickening and slowing with each moan. Until finally he can feel her uncontrollable, and she is moaning his name.

He allows her to catch her breath, his tongue tracing the curves of her chest, salty and sweet.

"Jesus Christ Richard."

He smiles up at her, his tongue falling beneath the edge of the lace, soft and tender, raising at his beckoning.

She murmurs something but it is lost in the translation of his efforts, her legs wrapping tighter around him.

"Do you still want me to call you that cab?" He says drawing his face to hers.

A look of scorn and she extends her lips to his, taking his bottom lip, biting tenderly. "Don't make me go Detective on your ass."

He smiles back at her, deepening the kiss, a breath and then, "Is that a promise?"

They make short work of the remainder of her clothing, and he takes a second to pull back admiring his work, cold air touching her skin where his warm body once was. Tight and inviting, Kate Beckett is everything he had thought her to be and more.

"Castle?" She says waking him from his reverie, legs tightening around him again, gently rocking him, urging him toward her. He abides catching her rhythm, abiding to her will. Two friends, becoming two lovers, becoming one love in the early hours of the morning, as the rain continues to fall in sheets, the wind howling outside, running wildly through vacant streets.

As their union comes to end and they fall exhausted in each other arms, smiling she closes her eyes, breathing in the scent of him.

Richard Castle does not close his eyes, does not dare to move. For such things as this can not be written, can not be contained to lines on a page. Yes, some things as this must be shared, for some things such as love must be let in.

---Fin.