"Hey Castle, you want a coffee?"

He doesn't answer at first, fingers flying furiously across the keyboard, detailing how Nikki Heat is delivering a verbal lashing to a suspecter murderer, icy fury evident in her words and actions. Rook looks on, equal parts in awe, in love and in lust. This is a key scene forms a key part of the next book, and he's promised Black Pawn he'll have this chapter and the next in their hot little hands for editing by the end of the week.

So the query bounces off his in-the-zone mental state, till he finishes wrapping up the scene with a final metaphorical kick in the guts, and looks up to see his fiancée watching him bemusedly from the entry to his study, two cups of coffee in her hands, steam rising from them both.

"Watching me work Beckett? Kinda creepy."

"Oh, you know all about that, don't you Castle?" She delivers him one cup, one of the NYPD mugs he's stolen from the precinct in a moment of weakness, while she nurses her own giant white mug with massive K on the front that now lives in his kitchen cupboards.

"I might have had some practice, yes." He concedes with a smile.

"When did you get up to work?"

His eyes flicker over to the clock. 7 am. He's never up this early, except when it is to write. When his eyes shoot open while the sky is still lightening, his brain running at a hundred miles an hour, and he knows he needs to hit the open page.

"A couple of hours ago. Nikki was insistent she had to get out of my head and onto the page."

A smile curls over her lips, reaches those bright green eyes as she seats herself on the edge of his desk, burrowing her feet into his lap.

"Do I need to be jealous that you're thinking of other women in your sleep? Even fictional ones…"

"You, my dear detective, need never be jealous of anyone, least of all your fictional counterpart."

"Oh really?" An edge of playful disbelief runs through her voice.

"Indeed. This is a case where art is but a pale imitation of life."

"Are you saying I occasionally haunt your dreams? Even as your fiancée?"

"Oh Beckett, you've frequently haunted my dreams since we met. And never stopped."

She does smile this time, the full-blown Beckett smile that is rarely bestowed on anyone but him, the one where the strength of feelings shine through. The one that warms his heart and lifts his soul without even trying, the one he's always trying to earn from her.

"Look at you. Nikki's got you all poetic and honest, and here I am reaping the rewards." The rill of joy that winds through her words is all the reward he needs in turn. That she allows his words to have such power over her is a great gift in itself, and a trust he'll never intentionally betray.

"Well, I guess muses deserve a little payback from the characters they inspire sometimes. Seems only fair." He waves two airy fingers at his laptop, where said character currently resides.

"Oh? Well she also robbed me of waking up next you this morning, all cute with your bed-head and arms around me. So it wasn't a total win." Beckett pouting might be the absolutely most endearing thing he has ever seen.

"Guess I'll just have to make it up to you somehow."

"Guess you will."

This is how it starts between them sometimes, the low thrum of awareness, of attraction, the verbal back-and-forth. This is their history from the precinct, when physical caresses were not part of the territory, when the closest they could come to a kiss was long, lingering looks into each other's eyes.

He catches her eyes now, large and green and vividly challenging, inviting him into their familiar dance along with her words.

Seduction is ever a game of trading control, of the reigns swapping between them, of move and countermoves till they're breathless and panting and don't care anymore. That's part of the fun.

But the fun thing is that these days, unlike the first few years, they don't have to keep their engagement in the region of the verbal.

"I'll have to think deeply about how I can do that."

He runs his fingers up her bare legs, over taut calves and strong muscles running up to the ingeniously short shorts she favoured. He'd never been much of a leg man, not till he'd met her. Now her legs mesmerised him whether running down criminals in her heels, or simply sitting on his lap. His voice comes out a bit rougher than he intended, but then with her so close to him, lust is never far from the surface.

She knows it too, sipping carefully at her coffee but he knows her tells just as well she knows his. Her eyes have darkened ever so slightly, and there's a slight pink flush to her face.

"So how does Linus like his new lair?" Her eyes swing over to the new resting place of the big cat, hanging at the side of his working are. The sudden shift in topic is also a tell, in its own right. This game, this game is definitely one that two can play.

He eases his fingers off her legs, cradles his own coffee mug in his hand instead, not letting the grin that overcomes him on the inside at her slight moue of displeasure show.

"Oh he likes it just fine. Keeps me on my toes when I'm writing- or at least when I'm supposed to be writing."

"Oh I suppose you alpha males have to stick together."

She teases him archly, digging her heels into his thigh, arching her toes into the base of his stomach. He's never had a foot fetish, but if she dips an inch or two lower, he might have to start reconsidering that.

Schooling his face to not show any reactions takes some effort.

"That's right. Did you know that lionesses do all the hunting and work in a pride while the male lions get to sit around and be lazy and watch the cubs when the ladies are out?"

He pauses for a moment. Her eyes narrow.

"We're brothers in arms, me and Linus. And you are ever so good at hunting, Beckett. Especially bad guys. As I seem to remember you promising one on the phone."

"Careful how far you want to take that analogy Castle. Or the Nikki might just be the only one keeping you warm at night."

Waspish, a little rattled. Good.

Instead of answering, he gets up, a little sore from only sitting down for the last couple of hours. Stretching his arms over his head, working out any kinks in his shoulders, his eyes flicker over to her, as she sits in rapt attention, eyes entranced a little by the play of muscle over breadth. She's probably not even realised that she's biting her lip.

Even better. Time to switch venues.

He picks up his coffee and walks out, glancing back over his shoulder to see her trailing him.

"It is a beautiful weekend. What do you want to do? Should we go out for brunch?" He pauses by the couch, settling back against one of its arms after he ditches his mostly empty-mug on the table. "Or…maybe we could stay in?"

"Mmm, we could." She carefully settles her mug on the table to join his, then insinuates herself in between the vee of his legs. Her lips brush his softly, teasing, before he moves one hand from her ribs to her neck, holding her in place so he can taste the coffee-velvet of her mouth, before moving down to her jawline, teeth grazing, before finally settling at her neck, applying suction to where her pulse throbs. She shifts her hips slightly, thrusting against him. A jolt of electricity runs through his spine at that.

"I can think of so many ways to entertain ourselves."

She reaches out to capture his lips as his hands trail back down her body, then under the thin t-shirt she's stolen from his shelf, fingertips skimming over the lean muscle of her back, teasing and then moving away from her breasts as she arches her torso towards him.

The first bite is her response, punishment and encouragement all rolled into one. She soothes and suckles the spot on his shoulder afterwards. She really likes his shoulders.

"Castle, if you get me all worked up in the morning, you damn well better follow through." There is a breathy curtness in her voice that goes ever so well with the dilated pupils and flared nostrils.

"I don't know Kate…"

Her fingers dig into the skin of his back, indicating that is not the answer she wants to hear.

"…does that mean I'm being invited into your, ah, territory?"

He waggles his eyebrows in turn, which earns him a groan and an eye-roll in return. Except he times the return of his lips to her neck just so, groan turning to moan in an instant as she shifts one leg to straddle his thigh, chasing friction. He tenses his muscles, pushing into the heat and damp of her as she rocks herself against him, eyes locked on his. Wanting him to watch, wanting him to see her wantonness.

"Castle..." His name is both prayer and benediction, just before his lips find hers again, before eyes open wide as he moves his hand up, pressing down firmly against one peaked nipple and then his fingers playing with it, rolling across it, watching her gasp and her eyes flutter, testing every single bit of control he has.

He doesn't even know who is teasing who, who is in control at this stage. He doesn't even care.

After a moment, she forces him up off the sofa and back towards their bedroom. The way her hand tightly grips the front of his shirt, the promise and need glinting in her eyes all serve to make his blood boil with desire even more, which he hadn't known was possible.

Still, she'd had her way all day yesterday during the case. This was only just payback.

"And so the lioness drags her prey back into her lair, her hard-won prize a real coup even for the experienced huntress…"

"Castle, are you seriously trying to wreck your chances of morning sex by doing your David Attenborough?" She hisses into his ear as they cross the threshold. The warmth of her breath rushing past is enough to turn his internal furnace to levels approaching spontaneous combustion.

"I thought you liked accents." His Attenborough is rusty though.

"Not that one."

Suddenly, they're at the bed. A quick turn, a shimmy of her hips with her ankle hooked behind his and he's flat on his back, organised thought quickly chased away by animal lust as she hungrily tugs at his shirt, removing it quickly as she straddles his hips.

The smile that unfurls on her in that instance, a predator in total control, is a sight to see. Her eyes feline and roving him constantly, hair framing her features like a mane, limbs a balance between leonine grace and lethality- he is transfixed.

"Forget Linus. You're the only lioness I want pouncing on me in this room."

"Shut. Up. Castle."

And he does, as she puts his mouth and hands to better use. And then he's too busy to think, really.

Started as a quick, short drabble poking fun at the whole Linus vs. Lioness thing after AMIF, that sort of grew into a sexy-fluffy one-shot because how darkly 'Disciple' ended. Apparently I can't stop writing these AMIF post-eps.

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