And now, the piece de resistance… the final chapter… the one you've all been waiting for… well, waiting for rather impatiently and bugging me about, but hey, I'm rather impatient myself so I understand.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you…

Well, just read it.

He didn't bother knocking, but then, he never did. It was just another (fine and dandy) way to irk her.

And oh, did he love to see her all riled. She was beyond adorable when she was in a state.

"What did I say about entering my quarters without asking?" The woman meditating on the bed demanded.

"That it was manly and impulsive?" He hazarded.

She opened one eye. "Yes, but my exact words were, 'Don't'."

"But where would the fun be in that?" He asked, plopping himself down on the bed. She opened her other eye in order to properly glare at him.

"Is there something you want, Mal?" She asked. "Tea, perhaps?"

"No, thanks; I don't need that stuff." He grinned. The companion rolled her eyes, her carefully painted lips parting slightly as she gritted her teeth.

"What, then?" She demanded.

"Inara," He said slowly, "I got somethin' I've been meanin' to address with you."

She must have sensed the earnestness in his tone, because she uncrossed her legs, made herself more comfortable, and actually kept her mouth shut to listen. He took this as encouragement and continued.

"Look; you gotta understand that this is somethin' that's been goin' on a long time. I just ain't had a real mind to talk about it 'til now."

She nodded once, deliberately.

"But ever since Nandi…"

Her breath stopped.

"I just felt a powerful need to get it out."

She nodded slowly. "I think I know what you're going to say." She sucked in a breath, blinking. "And I need you to leave, now."

He blinked, surprised. "What?"

"I said leave." She pointed towards the door.

He grew angry at that. "So, you're just going to push me away again." He stated. "You're going to be a coward. You know that, don't you, Inara? You're just a coward. A damn coward."

He began to stalk towards the door, but her words stopped him.

"It's dangerous. My profession… it's complicated. And the life that we lead–"

"I love you!" He bellowed. "I love you, you stubborn, high-falutin' woman, and if you'd just give me half of a chance, you'd see how good we'd be together!"

She laughed. "Are you serious? Mal, what are you on? We can hardly spend five minutes together without fighting!"

"We only fight because that's all we can do, what with all the tension. I ain't gonna lie to you, Inara; you're the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on and I'm not afraid to tell you that I've wanted you for a good long while now. But not," He fixed her with his sternest giving-orders glare, "As a client. Never as a client."

She took a breath. "I won't be able to leave." She whispered. "It's hard enough now, but if I… if we let ourselves…" She looked down at the bed, as if she could draw strength from the Chinese patterns woven in the sheets. "I imagine you." She said, her voice barely discernable. "No matter the client, I imagine it's you."

He took a step towards her. "I don't know what happened to you to make you so powerful scared, Inara, but I promise you–"

"That's just the point, Mal!" She burst out. "You can't promise me anything! You're smugglers, two of whom fought against unification, and we're harboring two fugitives the entire known universe is looking for! Every day could be our last!"

"Then what's the point in waiting?" He replied just as heatedly. "I don't know if today or tomorrow or a hundred years from now I'm gonna get blown to bits, so I'm gonna keep doin' what I love and that includes bein' with you!"

The strength seemed to drain out of her, and she sank back onto the bed. He crossed the room quickly, grabbing her by the shoulders and yanking her back up to a standing position. She began to protest. "Mal, don't you dare–"

He kissed her, almost crushing her body to him with the force of it. Despite his rough bearing and obvious passion, however, he was rather gentle with her. After a moment of slight struggle, she melted against him, her hands coming up to grip his (dirt-smeared) shirt. They stood there for an unidentifiable amount of time, frozen except for their oral tango, until air became and issue and they broke the suction.

"Mal…"

He looked her up and down. Thinking that she was going to turn him away, he made to back out of the room. She fisted her hands tighter in his shirt, tugging at him to keep him close.

"Don't you dare." She warned him. "You're going to finish what you started, you gorram charming pigheaded idiot!" She kissed him fiercely, and there was no more time for talking (or arguing, or insulting) after that.

Whatever arts she might have been able to employ – either in seduction or pleasuring a man – were abandoned; set aside for another time. There would be time, oh yes; plenty of times afterwards to give him all that she had learned in her years of training and as a member of the guild. But for now, ferocity and instinct ruled the day. Two hotheaded, strong-willed people, each with their own scars on their souls, taking what they could and giving all they had.

She began to crawl backwards onto the bed, stripping herself of her silk clothing (a mixture of Indian saris and Renaissance haute couture) as she went. His boots proved to be quite an issue, but eventually they were thrown across the room, which meant that his pants and shirt could soon follow. His hands ran along her body as his mouth clutched at her skin, sucking and kissing with such franticness one could be forgiven for thinking he was worried she would vanish into smoke. His companion, for her part, was allowing herself a rare moment of pure, uninhibited action, rubbing herself against him and analyzing every inch of his tough, battle-scarred skin with her precise hands.

"God, you're so beautiful…" He murmured, his mouth pressed against her stomach and muffling his words. "Perfect…" He kissed her thigh. "So perfect…"

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to flatter me." She replied, bucking her hips slightly. "Now hurry up!"

He crawled back up her body, planting a kiss on the hollow of her throat. Her nails dug into his back. "And here I thought your profession was all about the art of sex…"

"All artists have moments of sloppiness." Her eyes were narrowing dangerously.

Sensing that a tongue-lashing (and not the good kind) was on its way, he sought to oblige her and positioned himself above her. "Are you sure about this?" He whispered.

She stared at him for a moment, surprised. "You started all this and now you're afraid to finish?" She asked, incredulous.

He shook his head. "I want to make sure that you're here for everything; a hundred percent. No going back."

She nodded, arching her back to press her body closer. "I know." She whispered. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, hooking on leg around his hip. One of his hands automatically came up to hold her leg in place. "I don't want to go back."

He entered her slowly, allowing the feel of it to take over. They both abandoned all thoughts, all fears and doubts, and let pure sensation to overcome them.

It was slow, but that didn't mean that it wasn't intense. Every thrust, every clench, every sound was magnified, deeper and stronger than either had felt before. It was scary and amazing; it was awe-inspiring in the true sense of the word. It left them breathless on the bed, staring up at the ceiling in wonder, as golden aftershocks slowly faded away.

He turned onto his side and pulled her in towards him. Her pale skin glowed with sweat, and her hair was sticking to her. Her makeup was smeared, and she had a lazy, deliriously happy smile on her face. It was the only time he'd ever seen her less than impeccable; usually she didn't have a single hair out of place. He liked this disheveled look.

"I'll admit I was reluctant," Kate said slowly, "But I think that one was my favorite."

Rick grinned lazily. "Then we'll just have to do it again. I have a couple other versions I'd be willing to share."

Kate laughed, settling in against his chest. "Whatever you say, space cowboy. Whatever you say."

I hope that lived up to expectations! Be sure to tell me what you think! A quick note about why Castle's "Mal boots" had to be removed before anything else – for those of you who might not remember, his pants had straps like overalls that went over his shirt (although he often let them hang down), and the cuffs of his pants were tucked into his boots a good fifty percent of the time. Hence, boots first. Besides; what self-respecting companion would allow such filthy footwear on her lovely bed?

As of right now, I'm out of ideas, so until inspiration strikes again or someone gives me an idea, I'm going to leave this as it is. Don't worry, though – I'll probably update it eventually, and until then I have two more series I'm working on and will publish shortly! Thanks for reading! Especially Vesja, to whom this series is dedicated – I hope that it was worth the wait, and that you enjoyed every minute of it, my dear!