Lizzy had been quiet beside Red for a long while before he felt her hand settle on his shoulder. In the stillness of the theatre, he could hear her breathing, could tell she hadn't yet drifted off to sleep, but when she touched him, the heat from her hand still seared his flesh through the thin material of his shirt. It was all he could do not to react to her, to lean in to her touch.
Not reacting was a moot point at any rate. Lizzy knew he wasn't sleeping just as well as he knew she wasn't. Whether she had known when she first climbed into bed next to him or she only realized it after she felt how still he held himself, he wasn't sure. It didn't matter when she noticed, only that she knew.
Red wondered what she made of his continued silence.
She kept her hand on his shoulder and waited, waited for him to acknowledge it, acknowledge her. She was giving him a chance to avoid whatever it was she wanted to say. Considerate of her, to be sure, but she knew him well enough by now to realize he was much too masochistic for that.
"Lizzy?"
"Yeah?" she said, spoken like a question as if she hadn't been the one who initiated the contact in the first place. Her grip tightened infinitesimally, but she still didn't explain herself. Curious, that.
"What's the matter?" he prompted. Because something certainly was. Lizzy didn't hem and haw where he was concerned; she'd never been afraid to confront him, to challenge him about damn near anything.
She shifted a bit closer then and her next words brought with them the warm tickle of her breath at the back of his neck. "I'm sorry," she said at last. "About earlier."
Tom. She was sorry about Tom. Why did it always have to be Tom? In a life filled with regrets, Red thought it was possible hiring that man ranked quite close to his biggest one.
"It's fine," he said. "Don't worry about it."
"It's not fine." A small hesitation and then, "Are we OK?"
"Of course we're OK," Red said, and he meant it. As much as he hated it, he understood how difficult it was to let go; he understood better than he wanted to. He couldn't hold that against Lizzy. Especially when he knew she never would have crossed paths with the bastard if not for him.
She still hadn't removed her hand from his shoulder; the point of contact drew every last ounce of Red's focus. Her thumb rubbed back and forth, back and forth, rhythmic as a ticking clock, the beating of his heart. His traitorous body knew exactly what to expect from this, and responded accordingly, flushing with the heat of anticipation.
"Red?"
"Yeah?"
"Can you turn around?"
Red took a measured breath.
It was only practical, really. They had to be up bright and early the next morning for her meeting with The Djinn and they'd need adequate rest if they wanted to be at the top of their game. It was more than likely they would both lie awake for hours if they didn't… indulge each other this way.
He closed his eyes, counted to ten.
Excuses. Justifications. Rationalizations.
Nothing changed the fact that they needed to stop doing this, and the sooner they stopped, the easier it would be later.
There was, however, a problem with that simple truth. Now that they had stepped across that old, eroding line in the sand—obliterated it, to be quite honest—neither of them wanted to try to redraw it. The temptation to continue down this path was strong enough just spending so much time together, but here on this stage amidst the trappings of an ersatz home, it was damn near irresistible.
So of course Red did as Lizzy asked and rolled over to face her.
What little light there was in the old theatre reflected in her eyes, highlighted the furrow in her brow, the guilty set of her mouth.
"What is it, Lizzy?" he asked, even though he already knew.
She brought her hand up to cup his cheek, to run her fingers over his cheekbone, his sideburn, the curve of his ear. She searched his eyes in the darkness, gauging his reactions to her touch.
"I'm sorry," she repeated, in a whisper. "I know what it must've felt like when I… I didn't mean to imply that I didn't… that I don't…"
He nodded under her hand. "I know, sweetheart. I know."
Lizzy's eyes dropped then, as they so often did, and her expression shifted into that longing, pensive gaze he knew all too well. Now that the line between them had disappeared, her actions could finally match her thoughts; she leaned forward and covered his mouth with hers.
Red's chest tightened as their lips began to move together—the sweetest pain he ever felt, no matter how many times he felt it. He wanted Lizzy so desperately, every second of every day he spent with her, no matter how much he tried to quash that want. Each time he took her into his arms he wanted her even more, despite the ever-present knowledge that it was temporary and a terrible, terrible idea.
This couldn't last forever. Once Lizzy was exonerated, it would end. It had to. They both knew it.
At least Red hoped she did.
This thing between them, it was unsustainable with his enemies looming over his life. It was simply too dangerous. Perhaps in another place, another time, things could be different, but the current climate made it impossible. To him, that was more than obvious; it was an unfortunate fact of life.
He'd lived with the threat of his imminent destruction hanging over his head for so long, it was difficult to imagine any alternative.
For her? Definitely. For himself? Hardly.
Here, however? Alone together, on the run, with his only objectives securing Lizzy's safety and freedom? Well, exceptions could be made.
For companionship.
For comfort.
To find the peace below the winds.
They'd fallen into an easy rhythm by this point, one that hadn't taken them long to find. He was a generous lover and she was a responsive one.
Some nights, Lizzy would be more than happy for the two of them to explore each other, to spend hours chasing away fear and boredom and loneliness. Other nights, her eager impatience took him by surprise.
Intellectually, he knew she was attracted to him—had known for quite some time—but he'd been wholly unprepared for just how strong that attraction was. In fact, the first time she had… Well, that was a story for another day. Judging by the look in her eye tonight, this would be one of the impatient nights and he didn't want to keep her waiting.
Lizzy rolled onto her back and pulled Red with her, immediately tugging his t-shirt from his trousers and sliding it up and off his torso. She made quick work of his fly next, and dipped her hand inside his boxers as soon as she could; he moaned into her mouth when her hand closed around him, the contact brief and teasing before she started pushing his trousers and boxers down his legs.
Red broke their kiss and helped her, then took a moment to collect himself, resting in the cradle of her thighs. She had already rid herself of her jeans before climbing into bed, so it would only be a matter of helping her shimmy out of her boyshorts and shuck her shirt over her head before they were skin to skin.
It was a shame it would be over so quickly. Red liked to savor every encounter with Lizzy, store them up in his memory for the inevitable day in the not-so-distant future when they were no longer together. The taste of her, the curve and weight of her breast against his palm as her chest heaved with her ragged breathing, the feeling of her thigh muscles clenching and tightening against his ears as her fingernails pricked at his scalp… In his mind's eye he saw it all, everything he would do if he had all the time in the world with her.
Lizzy ran her fingers up the back of Red's neck, drawing a spark of electricity up his spine and his attention back to her face. "Next time," she said, and he nodded, reaching for the waistband of her underwear as she crossed her arms, grasped the bottom of her shirt, and pulled it off.
Red found Lizzy slick and needy in her arousal; she arched into his touch, rocking against his fingers, more than ready for him despite how quickly they had arrived at this point. He was forever in awe at the beauty of her body, the softness of her skin, the warmth of her flesh…
He eased himself inside her and began moving with gentle, shallow thrusts as he waited for her to adjust to him; when she pressed her hands firmly against his chest, he froze and searched her face for any signs of distress.
"Is something wrong?"
She shook her head. "Pillow," she said, wrenching the extra pillow from under her head; he helped her position it beneath her hips. "All right. I'm good now, keep going."
He slowly pressed back inside and she sucked in a breath through her teeth. Then she tightened her muscles around him experimentally, and he bit down hard on his own lip, deep enough for blood to well up in the mark.
"Better?" he gasped.
"Yeah. Perfect," she said, and captured his mouth, sucking at the tender spot he'd just created. She licked and teased the tiny wound and he moaned, thrusting just a little deeper, a little harder.
Sometimes… Sometimes, Lizzy understood him too well.
The combination of the new angle and the roughness proved to be exactly what Lizzy needed, much sooner than even Red could have predicted. Before he knew it, she began to flutter and clench around him, threatening to make him lose control of himself, which could be disastrous.
"Lizzy," he growled in warning before the sensations could get the better of him; she quickly caught on, snaking her hand down between their bodies to bring herself off while he pulled out and, with a few quick strokes, finished in his hand.
A dark thought flitted across Red's mind as he rummaged around in the bed sheets for his discarded boxers so he could clean himself off—forensics would have a field day if the task force ever found this little hideaway. Yet another hazard to add to his growing mental list.
Task completed, Red let himself collapse against Lizzy's chest, aided by her guiding hands.
"We should…" She swallowed hard and breathed deep through her nose, still on the edge of panting. "Next time we're out, we should buy something. Just once, I'd like to feel it when you…"
"All right," he said. "All right, we will."
Once he caught his breath, Red pushed himself up on arms still shaky and trembling from exertion and made to move back to his side of the bed. Lizzy stopped him with a touch and a plea.
"Stay. You're not too heavy for me."
He nodded and settled again against her chest, letting his mind drift as she combed her fingernails through the short hair on the side of his head, over and over and over, until she began to drift off as well.
They'd sleep now. Both of them.