Previously on Hard Candy (because it's been way too long): After solving two cases, Caskett is about to get busy in the kitchen. But first, Castle's going to have a little fun with Kate because she was bad and ate the last of the apple pie.

Moving on:

"If this is your idea of punishment," she smiles, lunging for his mouth, the swirl of her tongue along the roof of his mouth sending a shiver of excitement all the way down to his toes. "You may have to revise your methods of castigation."

"So hot when you use big words," he growls into her mouth as her hand travels hotly down his torso and toward the waistband of his pants. "I gotta say though," he gasps, "a little too close to castration for my liking."

Sweatpants, he thinks. Thank goodness for small favors. He'd almost put on jeans. Then there would have been buttons to deal with, a zipper; such a waste of valuable time. And there is simply no time. Not when she almost lost her life. Again. Not when she's cupping him in her palm and certainly not when she's only wearing panties and one of his T-shirts; when he can smell her arousal, wafting like a heady bouquet between them.

No. There is no time for taking this slow or savoring the moment. He needs to have her, be inside her, be ensconced and surrounded by her. But first, he wants her to beg; just a little. Because she ate the last of the apple pie and he had plans for that pie. Reciprocal plans. She would have loved those plans.

Roughly, he slides a hand between them, finds her underwear sodden as she pants into his neck and grinds her pelvis into his palm. The fingers on his other hand dance along her spine, sinking into the grooves of her ribcage as her back arches into his touch.

"Castle," she whines, a palm coming to rest on his bare chest, her fingers toying with the soft hairs.

He flips the thin, lace material to the side and with no preamble, inserts two fingers into her center. God, she's so wet; so ready for him.

"Hmm?" he says, licking his lips, resting his forehead against hers and gazing down at his fingers as they slowly disappear inside her, as they reappear gleaming and soaked with her juices.

"Castle," she huffs again, a bit of irritation lacing her words. She pulls her head away to give him a glare; at the same time, thrusts her hips into his space. He grins; he likes it when she gets demanding.

"Is there a problem?" he asks, feigning innocence and stilling his fingers inside her. He outright leers at the sight of her leaning back against the counter, elbows resting on the granite and legs splayed. Her eyes are dark with a slightly menacing gleam as she grunts out her next words.

"I want you inside of me."

Wanton. She's downright wanton and he's the one who put her in that state. His cock twitches with the thought and he crowds back into her space, straddling one of her thighs, hoping to ease some of the pressure that he too is beginning to feel.

"But Kate, I am," he grins, curling the fingers inside of her and stroking along her inner walls.

"Not what I... ahh... meant," she grunts as he hits a particularly sweet spot.

"You seem to be enjoying yourself," he hisses, adding a third finger to the mix, tracing circles around the engorged little nub of nerve cells with his thumb, rubbing everywhere but the spot that he knows will knock her over the edge to find her release.

"Oh my god, Rick, you're such a tease!" she complains, righting herself, sitting up from the counter and rotating her hips, trying to chase his thumb with her pelvis. The motion crushes her to him, her chest heaving and he takes an earlobe into his mouth. He bites down when she lifts her thigh, grinding against his groin and reminding him that she's not the only one who's worked up.

The rickety, white stool rocks with her actions, and for a split-second Castle has a vision of her toppling over the edge and falling to the floor. The sickening way his stomach drops is enough to pull his attention back to the task at hand and put an end to his little game of punishing her. Besides, with the way her fingers are teasingly dragging up and down his shaft, it feels like it may be her doing most of the punishment anyway. It's downright cruel the way she is massaging his swollen tip with her thumb and forefinger.

She groans as he pulls back and off of her thigh. Her mouth chases his, causing her to slide off the stool into his embrace. Heat roars off of her as she winds her arms around his waist, her hands seeking, crawling into the back of his pants, her fingers digging into flesh.

Before she can take her next breath, he skims her panties over her ass and lets them drop to the floor; claims her mouth with his own, shuffling her backwards and resting his palms on the countertop so that she is caged in between. Her chest heaves, every exhale causing her hardened nipples to strain against the cotton of her shirt and graze against his torso.

"No more teasing," he says huskily, his hands spanning her waist and easily lifting her up onto the counter. She lets out a small gasp of surprise as her ass hits the cool granite and he chuckles as her legs wrap around his torso, dragging him to her.

"I love you in my clothes," he says toying with the hem of one of his dress shirts.

Is it the soft curves that he knows are hidden beneath the draping material, or maybe just the thought that she wants to cloak herself in his scent? He loves the way she wraps a hand around the fabric while sleeping, unconsciously nuzzling the collar to her nose; it manages to be both adorable and excruciatingly arousing. There's almost nothing sexier than Kate Beckett wearing one of his shirts. Nothing except…

"Yeah, but you love me even more out of them," she barbs, lifting her arms, stealing his next words before he has the chance.

He complies with her nonverbal demand, raising the soft cotton over her head and eyeing her with a dark smile as he takes in the creamy skin of her torso and the twin mounds of rounded flesh; pert little nipples that virtually beg him to take them into his mouth.

"I love you any way I can get you," he says before plunging his mouth to her chest, taking one puckered nub into his mouth.

"Mm…" is her only response.

He lifts his head to gaze up at her and she stares back with hungry, lust-filled eyes. "Can't get enough of you," he says, releasing the breast and laving his tongue over her chest. He swirls his tongue around the now mostly healed scar, continues until he takes the other nipple into his mouth.

"Rick, please," she says, two hands coming to cup his face. Her nipple releases with a wet pop and he groans as she draws him back up to a standing position. Damn it, he was enjoying himself.

"Stop. I want you inside me."

His disappointment will be short-lived.

"Well then, if the lady says stop…"

He grins and she rolls her eyes.

Kate wiggles her hips then, until she is teetering on the edge of the countertop, a soft squeak as she shimmies to the brink. She splays her legs wide and rests them on two stools, her center completely open to him. He thinks he might be dying of a coronary, the way his heart is pounding in his chest.

Then she raises an eyebrow that is all cocky self-assurance and impatient expectation, and she waits. Modesty isn't even an afterthought. God, he loves her.

"Rick…"

Uh-oh, she's using his first name, he thinks. She means business. He values his life.

Quickly, he thumbs his pants off and lets them drop, taking a step forward until his throbbing sex is nudging at her core. She spreads her legs even further, raises her hips, and suddenly he finds the top half of his penis rubbing against her slit in earnest; histhe head throbs as it makes erratic contact with her opening, balls tightening when she slips a hand between them and nudges him inside.

"Ah," he groans as he slides into her.

She tightens her legs around his waist, drawing him all the way home, until he is flush with her groin. She locks her ankles together behind his back, heels digging into his ass, and cries out as he makes his first drive.

"Castle…" she gasps, her eyes wide and locked to where their bodies meet; they glimmer with unshed tears and her pupils are a deep, inky black.

He looks down, watches with awe as he moves in and out of her. It's nothing new, for him to indulge in watching this most intimate act, but this time the air around them buzzes, electrified and thrumming with something deeper. He draws in and out unhurriedly, almost painfully slow, mesmerized by the sight.

In and out, slow and deep, until it all becomes clear. They are already married. Like this they are one; joined not only physically but mentally as they gaze into each other's eyes. Proposals and engagements and ceremonies be damned; they are already married. Making it official is just playing with semantics.

"Beautiful," he says, stilling, reaching for her face so that he can draw her in for a long, slow kiss. "So fucking beautiful, Kate."

She groans into his mouth and clenches around him, draws him deeper with a quiver around his shaft.

"Keep doing that and I won't last long," he warns, biting her lower lip for emphasis.

She reaches a hand between them and begins to make slow circles around her clit; her knuckles pressed into his abdomen, enhancing the sensations in his groin. He draws out and slams back home; she clenches again, less controlled, a shuddery spasm this time, and moans his name.

"I'm just about there," she says, her hand now working a furious pace as he rocks back and forth and valiantly struggles to maintain some semblance of control. Her free hand claws at his bicep, nails digging into his flesh, leaving small, half-moon imprints that tingle and burn. He shudders between thrusts as she tightens like a vice around him.

Sensing she's about to come he lets go, loses control and begins to drive with abandon; her fingers slip free and he draws her up so that she straddles his hips, her ass cradled in his palms.

"I'm gonna…" she croaks.

"Together," he whispers, cupping her jaw with one hand and angling her face towards him as his groin tightens and his imminent explosion threatens.

She calls out, her sex fluttering around him; he cries out her name and his body trembles as he releases into her.

Kate reels.

The trees shake gently in the breeze; leaves flutter and shimmer golden in the evening light. Her heart powers in her chest. Holding his hand and watching him out of the corner of her eye, she lets him lead her down the dusty path.

The enormity of the moment rises and falls in lurching waves. It's like nothing she ever would have imagined from him and yet everything she had dared to hope for.

"Castle, why are we here?" she asks quietly.

"Hush, woman." He smiles and squeezes her hand, continues to walk, not offering up any further information. Leaves crunch under her feet as butterflies dance in her belly.

"You know exactly why we're here," he says, throwing her a raised eyebrow, daring her to challenge him.

Yeah, she knows. She knows exactly what he is up to; it doesn't make it any less terrifying. She feels her cheeks flush with warmth and ducks her head, screening her face behind a curtain of hair.

Today is the day that he asks her to marry him again. The day that she says, "yes".

It had started last night, while they made love on the kitchen countertop.

In the past she might not have classified quick and dirty sex on the kitchen counter as making love, but with Rick… well, she was now used to long-held assumptions being broken and obliterated by his almost uncanny ability to both charm and astound her.

His eyes had held hers, never once blinking as she fell apart beneath him; the connection had been powerful, undeniable. She had nodded as he'd chanted her name, bobbed her head again and again as his rough voice had pleaded her name.

Yes, Rick. Yes. Yes.

The secretive smile as he returned from his expedition to get the 'good stuff' this morning, handing over the paper cup of coffee with a timid glance, as though expecting her to poke him in the ribs or tug on his ear, had been her second hint of what was to come.

There had been plenty of coffee in the house. Good coffee; this was Castle after all. He'd left for other reasons, his footfalls quiet and covert, before the sun had even risen.

It was almost noon by the time he had returned but she'd done him no bodily harm; just smiled and accepted her cup of coffee as he'd placed a gentle kiss to her forehead.

They'd eaten brunch in bed, made love, napped and made love again. It was as though neither of them particularly wanted to break the spell and return to everyday life. Despite solving two cases and being anything but relaxed all week, the change of scenery had been exactly what they had needed to recharge.

By the time they had cleaned themselves up and left the house, it was late afternoon.

In the car, as they'd sped away from the Hamptons and back toward the city, his left leg had jiggled in time to the pulsating beat of the radio. In Kate's mind, it had been fairly concrete confirmation of a day's worth of inklings.

She kept catching him giving her furtive glances, the car weaving with each longing gaze. In the end, a palm to his thigh and a wink had calmed both his nerves and his erratic driving. She'd changed the station and they'd sung along to classic rock as the road stretched before them.

And so when they pulled up to the orchard, she'd known for sure.

June had been standing on the front porch of the farmhouse, hopping from foot to foot and making believe that she was dusting the patio furniture. Zeke, for his part, had welcomed them with gusto, clapping Rick on the back and practically shoving them both in the direction of the path that led to what Kate already thought of as 'their' tree.

"Did you do this?" she asks, stopping to finger a cord of fairy lights strung between two branches of a yellowing apple tree.

"Compliments of June," he says. "Remind me to sign a couple extra books for her."

The orchard is gorgeous in the late afternoon light. The sun hangs low, casting long, sharp shadows and amber-flecked highlights.

His hair shines, small wisps of blonde streaking through brown, perhaps a hint of gray at the temples. Not that she'd ever tell him that, the man has a tendency to be a little vain. He'd be running to the drug store and thrusting Just For Men into her hands before she knew what hit her.

She runs her hands through the strands, smoothing them down, before drawing him in for a quick, soft kiss on the lips.

"And why would June feel the need to light our path, Castle?" she whispers against his ear.

"Shh, it's a surprise."

"Castle," she breathes, lingering on the 'S' for just a fraction of a second longer than necessary.

He shudders as her words travel down his spine and she smiles, enjoying that she has the same effect on him as he does her.

"She's a romantic," he replies, his tone carrying a touch of panic, coming out as more of a question than an answer.

Kate chuckles and strokes a thumb across his earlobe. "Ah, now we're getting somewhere."

He gulps.

She's probably cruel to mess with him like this but she simply cannot resist.

"So, Rick, why would June feel the need to romantically light our path? Is there something she knows that you're not telling me?"

"Haven't I already told you to shush? You're gonna ruin my moment."

And score one point for Kate Beckett, she thinks with a grin.

She smiles, feeling like the cat that ate the canary. "And what moment would that be, Mr. Castle?"

"You're incorrigible," he says, ignoring her question completely and pulling her by the hand, tugging her quickly towards the clearing.

"I prefer persistent."

He rolls his eyes at her, and she laughs in his face before daring him to complete the Beckett combo with a raised brow. A stinging barb or jab to the shoulder is the obvious consequence of his choosing that path and she watches with delight as he bites on his lower lip and seems to think better of whatever he was going to say.

"Maddening," he eventually huffs.

"I try my best," she replies with a smirk.

He grins right back and she waits for his volley. Instead she watches with awe as his eyes transform from a dazzling and joking azure to a bottomless indigo filled with sincerity.

"Astounding," he whispers reverently.

Her stomach flips.

"That's more like it," she finally says, when she manages to suck in enough air to breathe again. Gently smiling and stroking her thumb along the seam when their palms are joined, she whispers, "Come on."

They round the final bend in the path and she stops short as their tree comes into view.

"Oh... my god. Rick, this is... gorgeous."

The scene is breathtaking; June and Zeke have obviously gone all out. Below the wide canopy of the old Sassafras tree is a table set for two. It's all white linen and sterling silver utensils; a cluster of merrily burning candles in the center.

Up here on top of the hill, the fairy lights June has chosen are a mix of blue and white, brilliant and shining, lending a romantic and lustrous vibe to the dusky twilight. A posy of pink and white roses with stems cut short decorates the table, nestled lovingly inside an antique looking bowl.

A smaller table cozies up alongside first, laden with everything they could possibly need for a romantic dinner for two. Steam rises from the vent of a rustic-looking earthenware pot, the scent wafting Kate's way and speaking to the tantalizing treats within. Onions and garlic, thyme and rosemary; a slow-cooked stew if she had to guess. A large bowl of fluffy white rice sits beside the pot, the plastic wrap glimmering with beads of perspiration. In a basket, wrapped in white cotton napkins are the unmistakable mounds and the mouth-watering aroma of fresh-baked bread rolls. Chilling in a bucket of ice is a bottle of champagne and next to that, two flutes, obviously hand-made, with a crackled effect that reflects the candlelight in a shimmery dance.

"Wow, they thought of everything," Castle intones, lifting a lid from a small plate and finding pats of butter. He runs his hand over a ladle and a matching silver serving spoon. "Everything," he repeats, sounding a little shell-shocked.

"That they did," she agrees, jaw dropping as she turns her head and notices a small clay stove, a merrily burning fire inside. She won't even need the jacket that Castle had thoughtfully grabbed and slung onto the crook of his elbow as they had left the car.

He turns to her, a serious look in his eyes, as he lays her jacket over the back of a chair. "So… umm, Kate? You know, I think you know why…"

He stops mid-sentence and casts his eyes upwards as though asking for a higher power to help him out. Or perhaps strike him dead. The way his jaw muscles are working and the way his teeth are worrying his lips, she's not entirely sure. "What I mean is…"

He huffs, obviously frustrated with himself. "Look, do you want to do this now or…"

She chuckles quietly, ducking her head for a moment before eyeing him through lowered lashes. He's adorable like this. Flustered and at a loss for words is not something that often goes together with the image of Richard Edgar Castle. No, the man who stands before her is entirely Rick Rogers; goofy, bumbling and just a little bit scared.

She's fairly certain that he envisioned himself presenting her with a ring after dinner, perhaps over dessert or slipped into the bottom of her drink; something suave, secret-agent smooth. She has no doubt that he's written a thousand scenarios in his mind and that none of them had him stumbling over his words and blushing bright red while he struggled to find a way.

After the grief she'd given him at the lighthouse, she feels like she owes him one. And so with a forced but steady gait and an erratic heart she takes the few steps into his space and clasps both his hands between her own.

"Whatever the question, Castle, the answer is yes."

His downcast eyes shoot to her own, the corner of his lips twitching and rising just slightly in the hope that he has heard her correctly.

"Yes?"

"Yeah," she replies, slightly amused at the breathy quality of her voice and the shaking of his hands. She gently squeezes.

"Anything."

Oh God, just hurry up and ask, she thinks. The longer he waits the more her palms sweat and the drier her mouth gets. The world around them begins to blur while time seems to stop.

"You're gonna have to loosen the death grip on my hands," he says, startling her as he regains his composure and shoots a glance toward his hands. Hands which she does in fact have a rather sturdy grip on.

Huh. Maybe she's a little more nervous than she had thought; as she releases him, she notices marks where her nails have dug into his flesh.

He reaches into his jacket and she holds her breath. As he slowly pulls a small, white box from his pocket and raises it to eye-level, she feels like he's simultaneously drawing her heart right out of her chest.

"So, Kate?"

"Yes?" she chokes out.

"Anything?"

"Yes," she repeats, regaining her voice.

"So if I asked you to dance right now?"

What on earth is he doing? He's asking her to dance right now? Guh! The man is going to kill her. But then again, she had said anything…

"Yes, Castle."

He uses the hand holding the box to pull her by the waist and into his embrace; the small square digs provocatively into her hip, taunting her. He twines his fingers through hers and slowly spins them around, swaying to a beat heard only in his mind. She sighs and rests her head on his shoulder, breathes in his scent and wills her racing heart to slow down.

"And if I asked to kiss you?" he rumbles into the shell of her ear.

She raises her head, smiles up at him. His eyes twinkle back in response.

"Yes."

He lowers his head and pulls her lower lip into his mouth, languidly but thoroughly devouring her and removing all traces of nerves from her psyche. They sway in time with the movement of the trees and soft gusts of wind.

"And if I asked you to stay when we get home; to move in with me?"

"Yes, Rick. Yes."

"Well then," he says, sinking to one knee and staring up at her with a look of pure devotion and utmost confidence.

"Marry me, Kate."

She sinks to her knees at his request and yanks him into her arms. He falls backwards and they collapse into a heap amongst the leaves. She covers him with kisses. His lips. Eyelids, forehead, chin.

Yes, her head screams. Finally. Yes.

"Hey Kate?" he chuckles, the low tenor of his voice ticking her neck and somewhat muffled as she continues to ravish him.

She stops just long enough to look at him; notes the amused face but slightly solemn look in his eyes.

"You know you didn't actually answer that last one."

Huh. She thinks backwards. She didn't, did she?

She tugs him back up, so that he is seated and at eye-level with her before answering.

"Yes," she answers softly. "Always yes, Rick. Always yes."

He shudders out a breath and slips the ring onto her finger.

She almost chokes when she spies the gleaming diamond and the delicately inlaid emeralds.

It's perfect. The main stone is large but set low, the platinum surrounding the setting emphasizing countless colors and a remarkable depth. She'd thought he'd rushed out this morning to buy a ring, but it's obvious as she wiggles her finger and grins dopily at him that this is something that he has had made especially for her.

"Exactly how long has this been in the works?" she asks, gesturing to the ring, still grinning stupidly as he rises and hauls her up off the cold ground. She's giggling – giggling- as he brushes a leaf from her hair.

Oh, she's so very destroyed by this man. She'll never recover.

She doesn't care in the slightest.

"Oh, wouldn't you just love to know," he singsongs as he leads her to the table and holds out a chair.

"Yes. Yes I would," she says as her head gradually returns from the clouds and they ease back into their banter.

She has no idea what was once so terrifying about this. Absolutely nothing has changed.

They are already married; have been for years.

In the car on the way home, Castle hums along to a sappy love song and Kate's fingers draw small circles on his thigh. Half a dozen fresh-baked apple pies sit stacked on the console between them, precariously balanced but smelling like heaven.

She catches his eye at a red light as they enter Manhattan.

"I thought you were going for big this time?" she says.

He grins back at her, chuckles and waggles his eyebrows. He knows exactly what she's asking.

"You didn't like intimate?" he asks, all mock hurt and pained despair, pouting and sulky like a five year old boy.

She rolls her eyes. Naturally.

Surely she can't have missed the scene in the farmhouse as they had finally said their farewells to June and Zeke and left for the city.

Then again, she had been fairly out of it, simmering in a boil of almost giddy joy and bubbly effervescence. He cocks his head to the side, memorizing her face, not wanting to forget a moment of this perfect day.

He laughs then, as he remembers turning for one last look at the farmhouse only to catch through the windows, a red-faced Zeke chasing a giggling June as the old woman ran to the desk and flung open the lid of a laptop.

"Oh, Kate," he murmurs, reaching carefully over the pies to stroke her cheek. "Open your social apps and check your feeds. I didn't even have to try for big."

A single brow rises in question.

"June will have taken care of that," he laughs.

Her eyes widen, understanding coming in one quick moment, before snapping shut as her head flops forward.

He holds his breath.

Her shoulders shake as laughter overcomes her and he breathes out a sigh of relief that the final part of his plan didn't backfire. They've been public for months, but he still wasn't entirely sure she'd be okay with this kind of exposure.

"I'll get you back for this," she finally retorts.

He's about to make a comeback, taunt her with his secret-keeping prowess, but a truck behind them angrily blares its horn and it's all he can do to keep from toppling over the stack of apple pie as he jumps and sends an elbow flying into the pile. Apparently the light turned green while he was moonily staring at his fiancée.

Never mind, he thinks, stepping on the gas and making the final turn for home. Kate's his fiancée and she's coming home.

Forever. Always.

Hole. E. Shight. It's finished! It's finally finished!

Big, huge, gigantic, overly enthusiastic, wet, tongue-kisses to all who poked, prodded, beta'd and in generally cheer led for this fic to be finished. I couldn't have done it without you all.

Avi: I love you like a love song, baby.

Nic: Are you ever gonna have that baby?

Deb: Your pimpage and last minute beta services are much appreciated. Muah!

And finally, I thought this beta note was worth mentioning. Kellie, you are both hilarious and kind.

"I love that you didn't say "lathe", ie to cut, sand, knurl, drill or deform using an industrial tool ;) Though who am I to judge people's proclivities? :P"

I never thought I'd write anything this big. Didn't even think I was capable of it. So again, thanks!

If you want to thank me, there's a neat little box below. Leave me a note! They are my crack and make all the head-banging against the desk worthwhile. Last chance!