Hello, this is my first time writing something like this and I'm not even going to pretend to be ashamed. That's up to Ryan and Freema and their stupid chemistry. Anyway, this is also my first Sharpwin fic and all I can say is that, ever since Castle, there hadn't been a TV show that captured my interest in full, and I was happy about that.

I had a life, you know?

But then I came across this show that was supposed to be entertaining enough for me to kill some time and instead I ended up watching the entire first season in one weekend, life be damned.

*takes a deep breath*

I took significantly more time to watch the next two seasons although not because I wanted to but because I still need to work and do stuff or whatever. Finally, last week I had some time and watched the first episode of season 4 and Oh. My. God.

I could try to tell you everything I thought about the episode and the series in general but it's a lot and this is already too long -that's what she said-, to attempt to describe how obsession looks on me.

Chances are, if you're reading this, you know exactly what I mean.

Here, enjoy.

Note: This is a bit shameless so if that's not your cup of tea you can still walk away, you won't be judged. Seriously, do you realize what I've just written and published?

Disclaimer: The dirty mind is mine (try saying that 10 times fast), but nothing else.

Deep end

Maybe it will work out in the end
I don't know if you mean everything to me
And I wonder, can I give you what you need?

-Deep end, Birdy.

Helen closes the door to her apartment with a sigh caught in her throat and stands there for a moment, replaying the walk home with Max by her side, the lingering looks he threw at her, the soft voice he used when he said goodbye.

Twice.

She also can't help remembering the voicemail he left her and the warm feeling that spread across her chest upon hearing his words and stayed with her for the whole six hours on a middle seat that wouldn't recline until they almost crashed into each other and whatever she'd hoped would happen, didn't.

She walks upstairs and drops her purse and jacket on a chair by the entrance, trying to distract her mind from thinking of him. She's too worn out to stay awake all night thinking of all the possible scenarios her mind can conjure up of him, of them.

Helen heads for the kitchen when a loud banging stops her and she feels a hint of hope ignite inside of her at the thought that he came back. She rushes down the stairs and pulls the door open to a different Max than the one who left not more than ten minutes ago.

He doesn't say anything but one second he's at her doorstep and the next he's towering over her, breathing in short puffs and Helen feels her pulse speed up as he leans closer. His eyes drop to her lips and a hand comes up to her neck but stops about an inch from her skin, as if hovering over the edge, anticipating the leap.

Her arm moves to encircle him and their lips are so close she can barely hold back the urge to tilt her head and close the distance. She needs him to do it. She doesn't want him to regret it.

As if reading her thoughts, he lowers his mouth to hers and the second their lips come into contact it feels like a bolt of lightning travels through them. The warmth that was hiding underneath a blur of emotions in her chest comes back in an instant, washes over her.

Their lips are gentle but relentless in their exploration of this perplexing feeling that takes over them and it's all they had been dreaming of for such a long time.

A sigh falls from her lips and she feels lightheaded.

Max surprises her then by taking her hand and pulling her upstairs only to change his mind a second later and push her against the handrail -with a little too much enthusiasm-, desperate to kiss her again. She yelps and he apologizes but neither of them slows down, refusing to separate their lips and holding onto each other as they stumble up the stairs.

Helen's already been to Max's apartment but this is his first time seeing her place and he gets distracted for a brief moment because he's here, he's actually here.

With Helen.

But a tour of her place can wait.

Helen tugs and he goes. Their lips meet again and his jacket hits the floor as his fingers find the zipper of her dress and there's no hesitation when he pulls it down and peels off the fabric to uncover all that skin that he can't wait to feel under his hands, lips, and tongue. She smiles into the kiss and follows his lead, takes his shirt off -not for the first time, though she won't dwell on that thought- and immediately seals their torsos together, kissing him with a little less urgency.

Max's deft fingers unhook her bra in a millisecond, trailing the sinuous lines of the muscles up her back as she walks him to the bench of her dining table. He sits and she straddles his lap, lips reaching for him but his hands on her shoulders stop her movement.

She opens her eyes slowly to the sweetest, most radiant smile Max has ever given her. He cups her jaw with one hand and the other caresses her cheek with so much adoration that her heart clenches.

The warm sensation in her chest feels more like fire spreading through her veins, and she needs to focus on one thing. Her best bet is to go after his mouth. The tangle of their tongues as she tilts her head feels heavenly and her hips begin to rock against his, craving some friction. She throws her arms around him, fingers and nails scraping his neck, shoulders, back, everywhere she can reach.

Helen thinks they need to move to a flat surface soon but she's not willing to stop what they're doing just yet and when she feels Max grab her hips, spread his fingers over the top of her ass, and lift his own hips to increase the friction, she moans and heat pools between her legs.

For a moment, it seems like Max is going to lift her and carry her somewhere else, but he just tips forward and drags her with him to the carpet, laying on it with her on top. It turns out to be a most convenient position when she decides to explore the planes of his chest with her lips, traveling south as her hands deal with the button and zipper of his pants and pull them down.

The muscles of his abdomen twitch underneath her tongue and Max feels something heavy stuck in his throat and something else that burns further down, closer to where her mouth is.

An electrifying current runs through him when he feels Helen's warm breath on his sensitive, bare skin, followed by something hot and wet that touches his tip for a second before retreating and coming back for a longer swipe. Small fingers grip him tight, and the first stroke rips a dark moan from his chest that echoes against the tall ceiling of her apartment.

It melts Helen's brain because she didn't just hear it, she felt it.

She becomes a whirlwind, stroking his length up and down, bobbing her head, lapping at him, and he's so hard. It's all groans and gasps and that luscious sound of wet skin that sounds so good, but he's drifting to the edge quickly, and he doesn't want this to end so soon.

"Helen," it's barely a whisper. "God, Helen. Come here."

Her tongue slows down and circles him once before letting him fall from her mouth and she wants to kiss a new trail back up but Max is already sitting up. He has a feral look, his baby blue eyes clouded in lust and something else, something powerful that's always been there, but now it's beaming.

Helen ignores a pang of dread mixed in with her desire and wiggles out of the dress that's still bunched up around her hips before launching herself at him. The only piece of clothing left between them is her underwear -her soaked underwear-, and all that skin-to-skin contact gives her goosebumps and makes her forget for a moment about what she saw in his eyes, concentrating instead on his mouth.

Kissing Max is the easiest thing to do, and she never wants to stop.

Although, if he rolls them over and chooses to wander far from her lips in favor of running his tongue over her caramel-like skin, finding dark peaks that pull short high-pitched moans and ragged breaths from Helen when he closes his lips around one of them, she's not about to complain either.

His hands are moving all over her. One comes up to assist his mouth, and the other traces a path up her calf, inflaming her skin. He licks and kisses everywhere, his fingers slowly reaching that scorching heat between her legs, and she can't decide if she wants him to hurry the hell up or to continue with this maddening endeavor.

She knew Max would be the kind of lover who'd want to worship every inch of her, study her reactions and catalog the places that make her shiver and gasp and it's mesmerizing to feel as comfortable as she does with his explorations, considering that this is the first time they've done this.

She thinks it's all a bit too effortless when he unexpectedly starts to whisper words against her skin. But she doesn't want to talk yet, she's not ready for that conversation. Besides, she kinda already knows what he's going to say.

"Max," she croaks, tries to clear her throat.

"Max-" she tries again. Only this time, his fingers crawl under drenched cotton and the pad of his thumb slides over her in circles with enough pressure to elicit one of the most erotic moans he's ever heard and he wants to hear it again, so he lowers his mouth and grazes her with a soft kiss, inhaling her, and then using the flat of his tongue to lap at the moisture he finds there and bring it up to her clit.

"Oh, fuck." she whimpers, her back arches, a hand immediately flies to tangle with his hair.

It's thrilling. Hot and wet, and Helen wants more.

"God, Max!"

He's ridiculously pleased with the noises he's dragging from her, his tongue between her legs, one hand on her chest, the other holding her tightly by the hip.

There's nothing Helen can do other than keep her hold on Max's hair and allow herself to be carried up, up, up. Her whole body tensing while his shoulders keep her legs open and his tongue glides firmly over her. And there it is again, that whimper that could shatter him and build him back up. Probably. He offers one in return and feels her legs shudder.

"Ah - fuck's sake!" Max can't help but laugh a little at her seemingly limited vocabulary. He wonders what else will he discover about her tonight.

Even though she expects it, her breath still flutters, as does the rest of her body, with the press of one, and then two fingers curled inside of her. She can't breathe, she's clearly doing the whole mechanical process for it, but the air just won't reach her lungs. It stays caught up in her throat.

The work of his mouth and fingers is implacable, his tongue flickering over her clit as his fingers press and rub just right, and the first blinding wave of pleasure splits her in half.

For a long moment, she can't remember anything. London, her family, her job, the jagged pieces of her heart, and all the reasons she could list why it's so dangerous to let Max get so close. All of it is irrelevant in that blissful moment as she wraps herself around him, keeps her eyes shut, and revels in the feeling of him. It's him. Max. Solid and real between her legs.

"Helen, I just- " Max lifts his head and looks at her with tiny blue eyes and a glistening smile. "That was amazing." he looks joyous, crawling his way up to stain a wet kiss on her lips, chest heaving. "But I- uh, I don't have a condom," he looks almost sheepish, and it's absurd how infatuated she is with this man.

"My bedside table," she says, nodding her head towards her bed.

They could get up, make use of her expensive furniture, not to mention her super comfortable mattress, but she thinks that if she gets up, she might convince herself to end whatever this is, or could be, before reaching the bed.

He doesn't take long to return between her legs, effectively distracting her by leaving open-mouthed kisses across her chest and brushing against her when he adjusts his body to hers. They both moan when he moves because the friction feels amazing and then he finds the right angle and slides inside until their hips kiss, eyes locked on each other. Helen can see the words he painted earlier on her skin written all over him, the same ones she feels clogging her throat and almost spill out of her when he pulls out and thrusts back in, unhurriedly.

Whatever Helen had fantasized about, it wasn't this. This is so much better.

She grins wide, making it difficult to kiss, so Max keeps moving from one side of her neck to the other, not stopping or slowing his thrusts, and they're both breathing so fast and shallow it feels as if they've used up all of the oxygen in the room.

They're completely wrapped up in each other, making it hard to tell where one ends and the other begins and it's all quite simple really. They move as if they know exactly what to do, picking up speed when something feels particularly good and adjusting easily when something makes them falter.

Everything about Helen is enticing to Max; her smell, the way she mewls in his ear, the taste of her skin, the way she runs her hands over his body, the mind-numbing sensation of being inside of her with her muscles clenching hard around him. Helen feels the same way, one hand buried in his hair, holding him as she pushes her tongue past his lips, the fingers of her free hand digging into his lower back, wanting to drive him deeper inside and she's getting close to the edge again.

"Max," it sounds like a plea. He answers with a groan, hips moving erratically and he's close.

He starts talking again, exhaling sweet words that Helen cannot understand because the pressure is building quickly and it only takes the press of his thumb, rubbing little circles where they're joined, for Helen to break in a spectacular fashion. He follows half a dozen thrusts later, feeling her tremble in his arms and burying his groans in the crook of her neck before slumping over her awkwardly.

"I'm sorry," he says, voice trembling. "I didn't mean to crush you."

A part of her wants to protest, tell him it's okay and that she likes the weight of him on top of her, but her body is still shaking from the intense orgasm she just experienced and she just murmurs something that sounds like s'okay.

After that, things get a bit blurry before turning alarmingly clear. They eventually leave the floor and find their way to her bed. Max moves around her space with ease and it shouldn't surprise her, but it kinda does. He looks happy and more relaxed than she's ever seen him, but they still haven't said much. Not with words anyway.

However, Helen's mind is clear enough now to start asking questions.

What the hell just happened? What does he think about this? Is he going to stay? Will he want to stay once I tell him I have to go?

More questions start to formulate as Max uses his newly acquired permission to touch her and kisses a trail from her ankle all the way up to her ear.

He's pouring his love unabashedly, his words much more comprehensible now and she doesn't know why it scares her this much. If her body wasn't so sated, she might accept the distraction he offers with his mouth. Instead, she says the first thing that crosses her mind.

"I should never have let you in."

Thanks for reading.

x