A/N: CARTOGRAPHICAL MADE ME.

Disclaimer: Characters aren't mine. Quotes from Heat Rises aren't either (shocking, I know).

"Kate, you're drunk," he says firmly, trying to pry her fingers off his neck. But she's so intent on holding onto him - oh, and so drunk.

"Am not," she says stubbornly, a frown on her face.

God, she's so beautiful, even like this, with her eyelids half-closed and her cheeks flushed. He kisses her, can't help it, bending to get at her mouth; she kicked off her heels a while ago, and he hasn't seen them since.

She laughs into his lips, dazed and throaty and way too sexy for her own good; her teeth graze at his lower lip and then dig into it, a little rough, commanding.

Shit, Kate.

"Take me to bed," she whispers when she releases him, smirking and hazy and delicious.

Shit, shit, Kate-

"You don't mean that," he tries to object, desperate now, craning his neck to skirt her beseeching mouth. Her body lithe and sinuous against his, angles and planes and curves that seem so eager to meet his-

"I do," she sighs, and just the way she says it - pouty and girlish and completely un-Beckett - it tells him that she doesn't.

Oh why, why did he agree to host Lanie's birthday party?

He gathers himself and grabs her wrists, detaches her from him, mourning inside. She's strong enough to make it difficult for him, but he has the advantage of not being drunk, on top of his height and build; he manages.

Kate staggers back - good thing he's still holding onto her - and lifts wide, uncomprehending eyes to him. She looks so disappointed; he knows it's mostly the alcohol in her, but it doesn't keep his stupid heart from quivering a little.

"Kate," he says, trying to sound responsible and gentle, all things he's never really wanted to be with her.

She bites her lip, averts her eyes. She looks like she might cry.

Oh, god help him-

"You don't want me," she rasps and, seriously, seriously, Kate? She's got to be even more smashed than he thought if she's actually blurting out stupid stuff like that to him.

Really, really, really stupid stuff.

And now he's screwed, isn't he?

He closes his eyes, rubs his fingertips to his eyebrow, tries to figure out a way out of this. When he slides a wary eyelid open again, she's gone all the way back to the living room, a knee resting onto the arm of the couch, her back turned to him.

Her hair tumbles past her shoulders, shielding her face when he steps near; his throat closes up at the idea that she might truly be crying.

He can't - he's not good at dealing with tears. Especially Kate's.

He sucks at those.

He takes a deep breath and reaches for her, laying a careful hand on her forearm; she jerks her head to look at him, and thank god her cheeks aren't wet, although her eyes are certainly a little too shiny.

She doesn't move, just regards him, and he feels the pull of her like never before, his whole body canting towards her, irresistible. Damn.

"Kate," he says, has to clear his throat because of how dirtyhe just sounded. So not what he's going for. "Kate, you can't be serious. There's no way you don't know this."

Something shimmers in her eyes, a glimmer of awareness, a glimpse of the true Kate, the one who *knows* - oh boy, does she know - the power she has over him; her lips curl upwards, imperceptible to anyone but him.

He should stop there. Except, of course, he can't.

"You have to know how much I want you," he murmurs, and he can see her pupils dilate at the words, can see the immediate effect they have on her. Shit, shit, he should stop, should stop there- "You have to know how crazy you drive me, Kate. When you walk into the precinct wearing this white shirt that I know can be a little see-through, depending on the light; when you go undercover in a little black dress that just screamsto everybody how magnificent your ass is..."

He moves closer, and closer, until her eyes are shut tight and his lips are at her cheekbone. "When you ask me to walk you home and then kiss me, so slow, so deep, and then close your door to my face? Do you have any idea what you do to me, Kate?"

She moans against him, helpless, delicious, and she presses herself to him, her mouth at his neck, breathing fast. "Then take me, take me, Castle-"

He slants his mouth across her cheek, gets the corner of her lips, swirls his tongue at her before he steps back. "No," he says firmly. "Not now, when you're drunk, when I can't be sure you'll remember everything in the morning. Not when I'm not sure you really want it, Kate."

She looks at him in dismay, this soft keening sound hovering at her lips, but after a moment she seems to realize that he's certain. He's not giving in. She presses her lips together then, runs her tongue over them, and she says, "Then will you - will you read to me?"

It's so unexpected that he blinks, wonders if he heard right. "What?"

She - she blushes? It's not exactly a blush, but she cuts her eyes to the floor, and he'd swear she's embarrassed. Kate Beckett embarrassed. Damn, why does she have to be hammered?

But she looks back at him after a second, determined and gorgeous, her eyes so very dark. "Read to me, Castle. Until I fall asleep. And then, when I wake up-"

She steps in close and curls her hand over his abdomen, an innocent gesture that doesn't leave much room for interpretation. He swallows, has to fist his hands in order not to touch her, because if he touches her now, if he makes only the smallest move, it's over.

He'll push her against his door, roll his hips to hers as he hooks a hand under her knee, brings it up, her long, lovely legs wrapped around his waist-

He swallows again. "Read to you."

She's tilted her head, watching him again, dark curls framing her face; she's pensive and adorable and absolutely unaware of the things she's doing to him.

Good. Good.

They might actually survive tonight.

"Come on," he says, and he holds out a hand that she takes without hesitation.

Her palm is warm and soft against his; he's not sure he'll ever get used to how good she feels.

He's not sure he wants to.

"And then it was all about breathlessness again," he reads quietly, something twisting in his chest, a vague sense of embarrassment at reading this out loud, for her, the woman who inspired all of it but whom he hasn't - yet, he thinks with a smile - made love to.

She's curled up on the couch in his office, her head on the armrest, her calves resting on his thighs; he has a hand wrapped around her ankle, his thumb whirling over the soft skin as he reads.

She's breathing softly, even little puffs of air falling from her lips; he thinks she might be asleep.

He's wrong.

"Read more," she mumbles, her hand hitting his thigh weakly.

He grins, knowing she can't see him. Sure, Kate.

It won't take long now, anyway.

"Nikki slept afterwards, allowing herself a luxurious drift..."

She wakes up and doesn't know where she is, or what time - her head swims in the darkness and she lets herself fall back on her forearms, lips pressed tight to keep the moan inside.

Shit.

It won't do.

She lies all the way back down, head hitting the soft, soft pillow, and that's when it finally registers. Someone is breathing peacefully next to her, someone who's sound asleep; she turns her face to the side, as slow as she can.

Oh, good. Good.

Castle.

Relief spreads through her like wildfire, makes her close her eyes in gratitude; at least she hasn't done anything stupid.

Well-

She moves a hand - it feels foreign, so heavy, and yet it's hers, it is attached to her body - and feels for her body under the covers. Mmm, clothes. Her lips curl up, a wave of love licking at her heart. Castle.

Only him.

She suddenly remembers his voice, his deep, beautiful voice lulling her to sleep - did she...did she make him read to her? Oh. Oh. The rest is coming back to her now, in pieces, but even the pieces tell her enough. She-

Oh no.

Kate hides her face in her hands, the whimper making it past her lips this time; next to her, Castle sighs and rolls onto his side. She holds her breath - but no, he's truly asleep.

Maybe dreaming.

She turns to face him, curling up to retain all the heat she can; the shame slowly seeps out of her as she watches him, the slope of his nose, the darkness of his lashes against his cheeks, the parted lips that she wants to kiss.

Shit, her head hurts. It feels like her brain is hammering against her skull, demanding to be let out - so not a good idea, brain. Kate breathes through her nose, hoping to it will recede, but it gets worse instead.

She gathers her strength and pushes back the covers, carefully sits up, resting her weight on her hands; she might be tempted to throw up.

But if Castle wakes and finds her-

Ug, no. No. No throwing up, Kate.

They haven't even-

No. She's not ruining all his fantasies, not until they're married and have kids and it's okay for her to do so. She realizes with a stunned breath that her mind is running away from her, almost feels like giggling at the thought.

Married to Castle.

Okay. Okay.

Kitchen. She needs to get to the kitchen. A glass of water, something to eat - maybe some painkillers as well.

Then she can crawl back into bed. And the sooner she sleeps, the sooner she'll wake up next to him.

Hopefully, without a headache.

He's jerked out of sleep by some movement in his bed; he instinctively turns away from it, but his stupid, sleepy brain wonders. Castle groans, rolls back towards the source of the disturbance.

A hand on his; the brush of lips against his fingers.

"Sleep, Castle."

Uh. Kate?

His other hand feels for her in the dark, groggily; he encounters an expanse of warm, bare skin that makes him gasp, startles him awake. What-

She settles closer against him, long and soft and amazing; he feels the edges of her bra through his t-shirt and relaxes a little. His muscles loosen. She's not naked. She's only in-

Her underwear.

The response of his body to that thought is, uh, immediate.

"Kate," he rasps, trying to understand what's going on here, to calm his overeager heart.

"Sleep, Castle," she whispers with an open-mouthed kiss to his neck.

Then she snuggles against him, so very cute, burrowing into his neck; she lets out a comfortable sigh when she's settled, she just - fades out on him.

It takes him a little longer than that to find his way back to sleep.

It is the gentle morning light that wakes her, a touch like a caress on her cheek. Kate hums, shifts a little; she's about to fall back to sleep when she realizes that there is an arm around her waist.

An arm that isn't hers.

She's too lazy to open her eyes, though, and besides - she knows this smell. Castle's smell. Things can't be wrong if she wakes up bathed in his scent. Right?

She licks her lips - oh, so dry - and then she remembers. Drunk. She was drunk. Ohhhh, she was verydrunk, wasn't she? She lets out a long sigh, opens a tentative eyelid. The world doesn't rock. Good.

Actually.

She opens both eyes, attempts to prop herself up on her forearm.

Uh. She feels surprisingly good. Faint traces of a headache, but they're hardly noticeable; the soft light doesn't make her want to hide under the covers forever. Amazing. Whatever it was she did-

Oh, toasts in the kitchen in the middle of the night. Hmm, good to know.

Castle makes a cute snoring noise right then; she looks up at him with a smirk, finds him blinking, struggling awake. Looks like he woke himself up.

"Didn't know you were a snorer, Castle," she teases mercilessly, brushing her lips to his neck. He grunts, looks absolutely disconcerted.

A little turned-on, too.

She hums. Damn, he's adorable in the morning, hazy blue eyes and ruffled hair. She would eat him alive.

"Beckett?"

"Hm-mm," she says, can't help the grin that splits her mouth, that she pushes against his lips. "I do think it's me," she breathes against him. "Or maybe you're just dreaming, Castle."

He makes a soft, wanting sound at the back of his throat; she can feel his hips stirring, coming up in a vague imitation of what she wants him to do to her.

His hand comes for her, curls around the soft skin just above her hipbone, fingers digging. She shivers and slides closer, one of her knees finding its way between his. "Castle," she sighs into his mouth, kissing him languidly; her tongue runs across his lower lip and then sneaks inside, stroking his teeth, mapping the inside of his mouth.

Oh, oh, and she remembers-

"You did good last night, Castle," she pants when she breaks away from him, all the memories flooding her and sending this beautiful, sparking pride into her chest.

"I did?"

His eyes are almost closed, his hands holding her firmly over his body; he's breathing heavily and seems to have only a vague, vague idea of what she's talking about.

"Wouldn't have sex with me if I was drunk," she murmurs, her mouth at his ear now, stroking the shell before she drops a soft, soft kiss to his earlobe. "That's pretty nice of you."

He moans, arching under her; his fingers tug demandingly at her waist, bring her closer, ever closer. She moves her knee, sets it on the other side of him, so she's straddling him. He seems rather - satisfied with that.

"Oh, oh, Kate-"

She smirks and bends back over him, presses her lips to his collarbone, skidding over it slowly. "It must have been very - hard - for you," she tells him, this dark, delicious arousal coiling inside her; she lets her hand trail down his chest, feel for him.

Mmm, yeah.

"Kate," he whines, and it's absolutely exhilarating, how very little control he has. How vulnerable, how exposed he is in the morning. She's making good note of it.

"Was it hard?" she asks as innocently as she can, watching him swallow as she does. "Hm, Castle?"

He gasps, stutters a dirty word, head rolling back even as he tries to look at her. "Yes, yes," he finally spits out. "It was - it was - Kate-"

"I think," she says with delectation, smiling around his chest, "I think you deserve to be rewarded for it, Castle. All this...effort."

Her fingers find the hem of his t-shirt, drag it back over his chest; he helps, contorts himself so she can pull the piece of fabric over his head, throw it to the floor in one smooth move. He stares at her, eyes dark, entranced.

She feels so powerful.

It's - wow. So good.

She sheds her bra while she's at it, drinks in the stunned look on his face, the amazement and joy and desire warring in his eyes; then she sinks back onto him, closes her eyes when her chest meets his, so good, so good, she can't-

He's kissing her, kissing her hard, his tongue ruthless in her mouth, taking, pillaging, not letting up; she has to hold on to his shoulders, her heart pounding, powerless now, and she can't figure out, can't figure out how it happened.

Her stomach touches his and somehow, somehow, this is the thing that sets her on fire, the soft skin of his abdomen brushing with hers, supple and warm, and she wants more, moreof it.

He flips them then, so quick and unexpected that she yelps against his neck, and fuck - oh - yeah - the weight of him against her is just where she wants it, just where she wants it, Castle-

"Kate," he murmurs against her lips, her cheekbone, her chin. "Kate, God, Kate."

She's dizzy with it, his breath, his kisses, the heat of him pressing between her legs.

"Now - now, Castle, come on," she manages to blurt out, she's not sure how. She's not sure it's really articulate either.

He lifts up off her and she keens in dismay, hears him laugh, dark and throaty, somewhere above her. She slits her eyes open to realize that he's getting rid of his boxers, closes them again, anticipation flaring in her chest.

Then his fingers are on her hips, tugging down her panties, so slow, so slow, and jeez, Castle. How is she supposed to even survive that?

"Faster," she gets out between grinded teeth, although, oh, his mouth is at her thigh now, licking at her - oh - and that's good too, that's good too, but it's not what she wants-

She claws her nails into what she can find, his shoulder, it seems, hard enough to make him hum in displeasure against her and actually look up.

"Please," she sobs out, can't believe she's actually begging him for it.

But it's just - it's just - her body is hovering over that edge, so ready, so ready to take the jump, and she wants him with her. She wants him-

He doesn't listen to her. He slides a finger inside her, at an obscenely leisurely pace, and shit, it's not even fast, it's not even hard, but she's coming anyway, her voice coming in sharp, jagged cries, her body curving up and up, closer, closer, more, Castle.

Castle.

Oh.

He waits until she's stopped trembling around his hand, then lets his finger slip out of her, licking it deliberately because she's watching him, flushed and intense and so very, very beautiful.

Then he comes back for her mouth, strokes his tongue over her lower lip, makes sure she gets a taste. She whimpers, her whole body shuddering against him, her fingers wrapped so tight around his wrist; he grins, slowly, letting her feel it, and then he shifts to sink down into her.

He can't help groaning into her lips, because she feels so good, moist and warm, a sheath around him; she's gasping his name under him, her breath in soft pants against his cheek, and she's delicious.

He doesn't remember - he's never- oh, god, Kate.

Her hips come up against his, rise to meet him, all of her irresistibly drawn towards him it seems; he can feel her leg curling around his, heel digging into the back of his thigh, and that - shit - he doesn't remember the last time anything felt this good.

He feathers her lips with hers, arching a little, investing as much of her as he can; she's breathless and trembling and swearing against him.

"Fuck, Castle, if you don't - oh - if you don't start moving right now-"

He laughs soundlessly at her cheekbone, nips her skin with his teeth, and then yeah, yeah, he's withdrawing and plunging back into her, trying to savor it as much as he can, the smooth wonder of the glide, her voice breaking at his neck.

It's so-

She's amazing.

He picks up a rhythm, can't help it, not when she's rocking back and helplessly demanding more, more, the word a mesmerizing, swirling drug in his veins; he can feel the pleasure gather, build up, feed off the lovely sounds that fall from her lips.

She's almost there, she tells him, almost there, Castle, please-

He slides a hand under her back, wiping the sweat at the back of her spine, making her arch up, just a little more, this slight shift that is exactly what they need. Her head falls back and she cries out, her body jerking once, twice as she lifts up into him, fingers buried into his back, mouth open at his jaw.

The unending undulation of her hips is what gets him, too good, irresistible; he finally lets go and comes inside her, the beautiful haven of her body curled around him. His lips part at her breast and he murmurs nonsense at her skin, how he loves her, how incredible she is, Kate, Kate.

After a moment of blissful nothing, he feels her fingers threading through his hair; she draws mysterious patterns over his skull and his eyes slide closed, his lips pursed to kiss every inch of her skin he can find.

Mmm, he's gonna fall asleep if she keeps-

"I'm so glad we didn't have drunk sex last night," she murmurs, and he hums, smiles sleepily.

He couldn't agree more.

"Thank you," she says, and that wakes him a little, makes him blink in confusion.

"For what?" he asks, propping himself on his elbows so he can get a view of her face. She's smiling at him, so tender, eyes green and brighter than ever.

"Waiting for me," she breathes.

The look on her face just - stuns him. He leans in and kisses her lips, gentle and deep, takes his time before he answers at last.

"Always, Kate."