Disclaimer: Even though Red and Lizzie belong to J. Bokenkamp, I own the sexy parts of this story. ;)
Lot's and lot's of thanks to my Beta. You are a hero. *hearts*
A/N 1: My Dear Lovely Readers: Thank you so much for all your wonderful reviews for 'Line Of Fire'. I promise I'll update soon. Chapter two is already in the making. But trust this: The one shot you'll (hopefully) read now, had to get out of my mind first. Why? Well, remember the first thing that came to your mind when seeing Red chained in the cell in 1.22? Yes? Well, hold that thought! ! Now, try to get rid of it. See!? Not working, right?... So that's what the fic is basically about. ;) So if you'd like to follow me into that gutter, read on. The story is rated M, for explicit sexual content.
A/N 2: I want to dedicate this fanfic to 3 people. / 1. Elmacie – you are always to patient with me when I write something and encourage me to keep on going, even on my bad days. You are such an awesome friend, in so many ways. *hugs* / 2. Eaglechica19 – your Lizzington video 'Dark Horse' started all of this fanfic-writing madness. For some weird reason, the song dragged me deeper into this complicated but fascinating relationship of Red and Lizzie. Especially the version of the song you used. So dark (and in my opinion true) when it comes to Red. The title therefore explains itself. / and 3. LovelyLittleFreckle – Because I want to prompt you with this very fic #- send those two on an awesome funny adventure and hitch them together without a key, will ya? ;)
~ I always write while listening to music and the song becomes the title of the fanfic. This time especially the text from Katy Perry's – Dark Horse gave this fic a certain daring vibe. ~
Now please enjoy the read. I'm gonna run and hide now in the shadows. LOL.
…
Dark Horse
…
The irony of the situation is that there is no irony at all. It is stupid and it is reckless and it has become so common to both of them, that it almost annoys her to visit him in the cell. The tiny cage-like cubicle with a wooden bench to sit on, where he is shackled left and right by both of his wrists. All night, all alone. For punishment.
But she does, at two in the morning with the keys she has stolen from the security guard. The security guard she had handed a coffee. The coffee she had dosed with a drug. The drug that would let him experience the deepest sleep of the century.
"I believe visiting hours are long over." The Concierge of Crime says, lifting his head while pretending to be resting in the most uncomfortable position.
She stops in front of him for a moment, then lets herself into the cell. "We need to move quickly. The new guard's shift starts in four hours."
He shrugs. "I just got here: I'm in no hurry." He grins that fake smartass smile of his, usually reserved for the people he double crosses, rubbing in her move of betrayal.
"I'm sorry." She huffs, sounding sincere. And she means it, he knows. It's her way of living up to him.
"So you set me up, have me captured and then what? Break into the blacksite in the middle of the night with the keys you brush passed? What is this about?" She can tell he holds no grudges. But the puzzle keeps his interest. She is of his interest, not that she has figured out the why.
"I needed to speak with you." Nervously she tugs on her FBI uniform. It is cooler in here than the heat from outside. Her blouse and blue skirt feel sticky on her skin. And she can hear the ventilation fan over the accusation in his voice.
"And somehow only a prison cell for the Most Wanted seemed like the ideal place for that?"
She makes eye contact. "You are leaving." It is not a question. He has been avoiding her for weeks now. Whenever she calls it's Dembe who picks up the phone and most of the time he forwards her the information for the Blacklister rather than to appear to her himself. "Can I ask why you didn't care to tell me about it?"
Her tone is calm, but as calm as the leaves of a tree right before a big storm picks them up off their branches. "Would you have said goodbye?"
He says nothing. But the twitch of a sad smile tells her more than anything spoken by him.
She tries to keep her anger at bay, pacing back and forth. Her hand covering her mouth so she could refrain from yelling. Then she inhales three times and faces him again. "So you would have just disappeared, without a trace, leaving me behind?"
His stare is pinning her to stand still. To listen carefully to his next words.
"Lizzie my life is about lying, manipulation, and seduction. And I'm good at it. Being a criminal comes easily to me. And you…", he pauses, "…you are starting to lose yourself in it."
"I'm not." She holds his gaze, holds his tone.
And he observes her for a moment. "I have corrupted you and you don't even notice it."
A beat of silence fills her veins and she is quiet at first. He just continues his stare, making her nervous.
"Even if that were true, wouldn't that be my choice?" She challenges back, her voice picking up a notch.
He feels sorry for her or for himself, and it annoys her. Skeptically, she listens to his next words as his head shakes left to right.
"You have a goodness in your heart that I lost a long time ago. I can't bring you into my world. You can't begin to fathom the consequences, the collateral. Once you enter it there is no way back."
The deep set of his eyebrows is intimidating and she can feel the tears sting behind her eyes, but she stands her ground.
"I don't want to go back. I want to come with you." She states carefully, trying to reason with him. It's all a poker game she thinks. "I want to find out what happened to my life. Where I come from and why I was supposed to die. I have a right to know! And I want to bring justice to those..."
"There is no justice." His voice rises."There is only lying, manipulation and seduction. And maybe, just maybe at the end of it, there is a truth and a reality you can live with. Then, if you get lucky, a way to disappear forever."
"You chose me." She barks at him. And in a way she wants to get a rise out of him. It's always him who makes the rules.
"It was a mistake!"
Ouch.
"Because now you care?" And realizes she does as well. And right there was the irony. She cares. About him and their journey. Cares where he goes and if he wants her to follow.
So she takes a step towards him. "I can lie." She says and she says it with force in her voice. "I do it well and you know it."
There is still no reaction from him, but she can tell by way he breathes that if he could he would still her arms and hands that gesture wildly in front of him. "I have lied to Cooper about Seattle, I have lied about the three dead bodies dumped in the river. I have lied about all the things I learned about Tom. And it's almost seven months now."
Her face is right in front of his as she kneels down, placing both hands on his shoulders. The pain of her husband's death and all the lies connected still visible in the salty layers of her eyes as she tries to reason with his set plan. "I have lied more often for you than I can admit to myself."
And it hurts him knowing that she is right; hurts him seeing her this desperate. Trying to win the upper hand. "I know." He admits in a soft voice, "and it puts you in greater danger than I'm willing to admit."
It is true, she sees it reflected in his every feature: the devotion he puts into protecting her life. But she is an equal with a right to choose. And she finally needs him to allow her that choice.
"I have lied and I have manipulated." Her words gentle as she massages his flesh. "And if it's seduction you are worried about, I can hold my own pretty well."
And it is like a spell rising over a lit candle, her words carrying a meaning they haven't explored.
He looks down at her arms that hold him in place and back into her face and those crystal blue eyes.
She is doing it right now, or she thinks she is. Manipulating him while completely unaware that it all could be a trick on his part as well.
"You are no criminal Lizzie." His words almost a slap to her face. And it's evident that she is as ready as a lioness to pounce at her pray. Yet he continues. "So don't fool yourself into thinking …" But she quick, and sits down on his lap before he is able to finish that sentence. And without a second thought, in one swift move, guides them closer than ever before.
It's all happening in a blur and she hears him inhale before she hears herself. Taken aback and with a madness blocking out her action, they battle one another with hard and judging gazes.
"I want to come with you." She demands, only inches away from his face. Her breath is as warm as the fan of hair that veils their space into privacy.
His eyes roam over her body. Up and down and left and right. "You are not ready for it." He replies right back. A dare, a truth, six words of challenge.
Her cheek presses against his face. Warm and smooth and he feels her eyelids shut before she hushes right into his ears, "On the contrary, I think I am."
And she doesn't know if it's her or him that breathes suddenly more frantic and shallow. She is focused everywhere and nowhere right this second. But she feels his lips as they whisper almost with a feather light touch just the same. "You play with fire and expect not to get burned."
Yes it is naive to think this would not alter them.
"Maybe I want to get burned." She speaks and swallows.
The air now truly catches with flames as tension erupts like little sparks of lightning. And she can't deny any longer: never being not attracted. So her arms fall like liquid between them while her fingers try to get a hold, hovering right before the first touch.
He pulls back and searches for her eyes, mulling over her words. "I would never give you back." He apologizes, his mouth forming a smile for second. "There is no maybe here, Lizzie."
There is a meaning lingering she can't shake off. But denial is like a last resort weapon.
"Yes there is, we're right at it." She reassures while caressing his cheeks with a light touch.
Tender is his stare as he locks eyes with her, and serious is his tone, so full of regret. "I can't take you with me."
It is the last string being flexed to snatch the wire. A 'no' is not an option for her any longer.
So she takes his face into her hands and brushes his lips with her own, nearly touching the rosy flesh, lingering in front of the poisonous apple. "I guess..." She licks her lips. "I will have to seduce you then."
It's enough to make him pull on the restraints with his hands still tied to the metal rings and her pelvis right above his own as she settles deeper into his lap. His gaze is unreadable and calculating, taunting her to take a step further while disapproving just the same.
"You have not the slightest idea what you're getting yourself into." There is a double meaning in his words and a threat of some sort; and she thinks it's directed at them both. But she blocks it out and closes her eyes, focusing on her anger instead. Then determined and a little mad she rocks once, very slowly, opening her lashes the moment she pushes into his lower half.
At first, his features don't change. He just looks at her, his mimic at ease. Yet it was the opposite. She detects it clearly, observing the slight twitch from his jaw. So her hands close around his neck from the side, very lightly tingling his skin. Then looking down she concentrates on her movement and slides against his groin a second time.
"Lizzie, stop." She hears him say, with authority and a light tremble. The smugness all gone, she senses victory, encouraging her to move again.
And then she feels him right beneath. A wave of heat that connects with her and makes her stop all of a sudden as her action begins to dawn on her, and she freezes right in place and time, while closing her eyes very tight.
Reality sets in along with want and desire as her pulse drops to the single most tingling spot in her flesh.
She neither feels nor hears him leaning forwards. "You should get up." His voice all husky as his breath warms the inside of her ear.
No No. She thinks but can't talk, shaking her head, leaning into his temple. She likes this far too much. And she likes the way his pupils dilate when her own eyes open with desire.
"If I take you with me." He kisses her cheek. "You'll be right next to me on the Most Wanted list. And if they catch you, you're likely to spend the rest of your life in jail."
She leans into his lips and touches them lightly. Then she rocks another time.
"But you'll be mine." She whispers, not afraid anymore of those feelings that grow with every day.
He laughs sadly and tells her "I am already yours." Placing pecks all along her chin. And it is evident that he loves her enough to let her go; evident that he would never return.
"It's an order then. I come with you." Pinning him with her stare. Serious and unfaltering just like his.
He gets playful then and lifts a brow. "You do realize it is usually the person tied up to be in charge. One word and everything stops."
So she leans in close all smug and taunting and tries to kiss him on his mouth. "I don't think any word from your lips is safe or will save you right now."
But he denies her teaching him a lesson and lays his lips against her carotid artery, gliding with his nose along her throat; inhaling her sweet seductive flagrance. "Not that I want to be saved right now." He confesses.
Her pulse quickens as his words vibrate into her cells and she turns her head down and love bites his neck. "A true sinner." She teases all superior.
And it's enough! All that electricity where they connect, to make him finally capture her lips. Urgently and pushing with tongue and teeth. And too explosive and too short for he retreats within seconds.
She whimpers. It is a game leaving her all flustered with dizziness from the onslaught of passion. Because he goes not further, lets her beg for more and won't even break when she sucks on his flesh.
Hot is his breath as her bottom lip quivers and the temperature rises in between them. "Slide over the key Lizzie." Is all he commands while nibbling his way from her ear to her throat.
She follows his order and her hand leaves his torso, pulling the key from the pocket of her skirt. Then she glides it over his left forearm, grazing the rough end along his skin and toys with the sensitive nerve ending imbedded in the goose bumps of his pores.
He hisses once, then follows with his eyes the trail she is making all the way over his palm, where the cuff is closed around the metal ring.
"Open them." He whispers.
She does. The sound is swift, one click and he is free. But it lasts only a second in the dimness of the room. Because what she does not see coming but should have expected, was another click right after the first, hitching her to his cuff so they are now tied together.
Appalled, she looks up and is met with an impassive glance as no words leave his mind to explain.
But his eyebrow lifts and so does his chin as the role of the dominant is suddenly reversed. She can read it in his eyes, feel it in the pull on her wrist. The truth they had already discovered months ago. 'I know this must be very difficult for you, but we can't both lead.'
A small laugh turns into a groan as within a heartbeat both their hands join at her hip, lifting her higher up in his lap. She doesn't protest, only lets it happen and gasps as she feels his arousal again, blushing at her own in response.
Her eyes close shut shyly as he notices. Then her forehead eases in the crook of his neck to submit, ready to live in this moment of bliss.
She doesn't imagine it. He is more forceful now as he works his way back to her mouth and can only sigh when he claims it far too slowly. He is teasing her with his lower lip on the corner and when she opens up, massages her tongue with his own from the side.
It's delicate, this dance, and she is hyperventilating as her hip rocks on its own account. And just like that time seems to stop.
Joined by the cuffs, he glides their hands all over her curves, rounding her bum along her thigh. Her skirt ends there right above her knee, so his palm strokes softly over the sensitive tip before it finds the inside to trail back underneath and all way up to her centre.
She wants to say his name. 'Red.' But instead her breath hitches in a silent plea. He swallows it by entering her mouth with his tongue, over and over and over again.
And she feels her knees weaken and her heart hammer away as his fingertips reach their destiny.
Daringly, he toys on the outside of her thong, framing it, going back and forth and over until the very last he puts a finger through one of the straps and pulls.
The snap is quick and the fabric gone even faster. With surprise, she opens her eyes. And the green of his irises carries a desire that she can't quite put into words. His lips, now swollen from their shared kisses, hold a smug smile as he very slowly pulls a bit at the cuffs. And she can feel her own heat as it warms her skin. Right before she feels him as he begins to draw circles all around that bundle of nerves.
A left turn here and a right circle here; always so close yet too far away. It is driving her mad in anticipation and she bucks into him to get the friction she needs.
But he pulls slightly back and takes her hand with him. And it is an erotic image, being so very much at his mercy, being given and denied, having to go where his hands will wander, following his exploration of her body. And his soft touches are so incredibly warm compared to the cool hard metal of the cuffs on her skin, when he takes and grants her a need so pure when mingled with affection.
His fingers hover at her entrance while hers ball into a fist. And his breaths join hers in a frantic way as oxygen is more needed than ever to compensate for this insanity.
Yet she wants more, just so much more and whimpers, even bites his lower lip. And he claims her mouth in response right this second. The very same, his finger plunges into her. Deep and hard and even deeper, up and down and in and out.
"Oh God." She whispers, riding him. Her juice not only covering his but her hand as well. And her head falls to the side, granting him access to her neck and shoulder and throat to cherish.
He does, tastes her soft skin everywhere, licks and tingles and bites as well, right behind her ear and along her jaw. And she moans in sync as he plays with her body, shivering now from head to toe. She truly is on fire, right there with him. And like in her past but without the smoke she climbs even higher, save in his arms.
It does not take long and her blouse is open, the white fabric exposing the swell of her breasts. His lips cover them and shower her skin with wet kisses trailing even further south. And when his pelvis pushes upward, the rosy peak enters his mouth.
She almost comes right this moment. But the victory is his when he doesn't suck with slight pressure. Instead, hot air blows over the skin and makes her linger before now two fingers push up her midst.
Hastily she unbuttons his vest and shirt with the hand that is not chained to his, to grab his neck and dig her fingers into his shoulder, holding onto him during their game of foreplay, letting passion and want outdo one another, climbing the ladder of desire with each stroke and each move they allow.
She kisses him frantically and does not let him go, her hand lost in the buzz cut of his skull. And it is his turn now to moan. When her fingers massage his chest and, with a light touch to his flesh, explore a trail all the way down his abdomen.
And she feels the goose bumps right under her tips as his muscles constrict in their wake. She also feels him harden further, and when she reaches to unbuckle his belt he bucks and presses her down, burying his fingers even deeper.
She looks right at him, surprised how far she lets him stretch, how much more she wants all of this. And it is almost agony to gain back enough control to pull on the cuffs and signalling him that it is time to lose the last barrier.
He obeys her request and withdraws his digits. And takes their shackled wrists to his mouth, kissing her thumping pulse gently. Then he wets his thumb right in front of her eyes, with his tongue darting out, looking at her intensely.
Her pupils dilate immediately and at first she is confused, but then a full body tremble takes her under as his finger goes right back where it came from and brushes over her clit in shallow, quick and tender strokes.
"..." He drives her crazy, mad with want.
And her head falls forwards as her eyes close tight. Because she is, as well, so close. Too close to not kiss him harder as he opens his zipper overwhelmingly slowly. And he has to stop her from reaching for him.
"Please" she begs. "Please please please." And it makes him smile and kiss her swiftly, everywhere, just everywhere. It also makes him tease her again with his finger in between, when loosening the fabric that separates them still. She is ready, so ready. And the earthy smell of him in this state of arousal is like an aphrodisiac she hasn't been aware of before.
And passion crashes over them as their kisses turn sensual. And she feels his slick flesh right beneath her, pressed up against her bundle of nerves, pressed up against her entrance. All warm and smooth, all hard and hot. And then ... she feels it right within her. All of it. Him, just him. Still and waiting for her to relax, moist and encouraging her to move.
She does; when their foreheads connect and slowly they engage in a steady rhythm.
Kisses follow. Long and greedy kisses. Wet and promising, their tongues embrace one another. And so do their hands as they rest between them onto her stomach, pushing her a bit backward to have him dive in further, hitting that mythical spot from deep within.
He lights her skin on fire again, exploring her now with his hand while intertwining her fingers with his. Her body a wonderland of softness and warmth, smelling sweet like honey and milk. And it comes alive, she senses it clearly. The tiny hairs in the back of her neck tingle. Because her body is his, nobody else's. And he plays it like master violinist his instrument.
She moans in pleasure with his breath inside her mouth as they pick up their pace with their joined hands now behind her, bending her arm and pulling her forwards. And their skin slides together as space becomes something unnecessary and she wraps her legs tighter around his waist to shifts closer and closer and closer.
"Lizzie..." her name like a prayer falling from his lips. The ones she takes right back, nibbling and sucking. Want is an understatement right this moment. And he senses it, kissing her impossibly harder before flipping them with his still chained right hand so she lies right under him, pinning her with his left one beneath.
Her breath hitches, for the high she is on causes her to call out his name in the sweetest way possible. All concentration is focused and lost all the same. He feels so good sliding in and out and in again.
Because he is everywhere at once and invades her territory by mimicking the actions of their tongues in harmony with the movements of their lower body parts. And all swollen their sexes connect with sparks. And it's all too much but never enough. And sweat starts to cover their naked skin, while sounds of pleas fill the room. His' and hers right there on the edge of satisfaction.
She has not felt this alive in weeks and he not as dependent on her demand all his life. It was strange and dysfunctional yet beautiful nonetheless, the relationship they had formed since he had entered her life.
He gets hold of her free wrist when she touches his biceps, so both of her hands are now in his tight embrace, right above her head. And he slides into her in a different angle and feels her shiver in response. Hears her hum and opens his eyes to look at her. And all that is unspoken between them flows visible in a river of emotions reflected in their hungry stares. An honesty now free of fear. And his stare is as hard as his thrusts into her when she opens her legs even further for him, before her eyes roll back to feel and enjoy this very moment that is only theirs to consume.
His mouth explores her inch by inch. Her jaw, her cleavage and the skin on her breast; and in slow motion he teases the tip of it. First with his lips and last with his tongue, circling the sensitive flesh before sucking on it all the while moving inside of her, keeping the rhythm of her heavy breaths.
She feels it grow then, along with the tightening inside her belly, this attachment to him, and realizes that she is falling. Getting lost in her senses, offering him everything: her body, her soul and her heart. And her mouth opens a bit while she arches off the bench, wanting to join even further.
He restrains her in her heated blindness and stills her abdomen while he starts pushing faster; then stops their eager kisses by encircling her throat; and it takes all the control in his power to let her hover at the edge of pleasure to grant her only a glimpse of friction, before the explosions of heat and trembling and butterflies rush through her veins.
She feels like flying and drowning all at once, seeing stars and their colourful light as wave after wave of orgasm captures her and he pushes her over the edge with one painfully slow stroke of his flesh. Deep and long, and filling.
She holds onto him in that moment, clawing her nails into his skin, and leaving new marks of their interwoven lives onto his back.
It is enough to encourage his own release, twitching and pumping within her heat. Burying himself one more time deep with one, two and three final strokes.
"Lizzie." He breathes. And her name sounds like a song, a prayer and like an absolution he has been waiting for.
And she feels his climax inside of her as her inner walls constrict around him. His breathing is shallow and it warms her face. And they both relax and calm in time. His weight is comforting her like a blanket. So she closes her eyes and memorizes the high they just experienced. It is new. And it is raw and so different.
He nudges her and she opens her eyelids again. He looks a bit worried. And his lashes seem longer than before as they reveal his still adrenaline widened pupils.
"Hey." She says nervously, curving a smile.
He says nothing at first, just takes her in. "You look flushed and..." He stops and touches her face with his finger. "... beautiful."
Licking her lips, she studies his features. "And you look..." she searches for the right words to say, but fails. Like the first page of a book is kept blank, so is her mind. "...like you."
He knows she is not ready yet, for the story to be written in ink. The one where a girl who wanted to hate the monster, ended up giving him her heart instead.
Shyly, she looks at her shackled wrist, turning it inside the cuff. "That was not, how this visit was supposed to go."
He grins and he looks younger somehow. "Disappointed?"
No. She blushes. And she feels her hand follow his again as he carefully pulls down her skirt and lifts himself off to lay beside. "I just …" she trails off and looks directly at him. "I just don't know anymore what is wrong or right." She confesses. "I mean..."
He also adjusts her bra and blouse, re-buttoning while enjoying her increasing breaths.
"I told you once that the lines will blur and it seems I coveted you." He murmurs before kissing her with meaning again.
Her pelvis bucks against their hands in response. And her cheeks pool with color.
"Maybe you did", she feathers onto his lips. "But maybe I wanted you to."
He stills her abdomen and his eyes dance with amusement. "I get the impression you still think it is you who has the upper hand."
"Don't you?" She says daringly, showing him the key stuck between two fingers of her free hand.
He doesn't reach for it but looks at her teasingly, shaking his head. Then he kisses her very chastely. "I could easily leave you in this cell locked in. And instead of me they'd find a 'former' FBI agent being all moody in the morning."
A short glimpse of panic crosses her features, then her heart rate eases. "You wouldn't!"
He strokes her eyebrows with his thumb and as the tingle spreads along her face her head turns to the side to make its tip land on her mouth to kiss it. Adoring her, he smiles.
"I wouldn't" He whispers.
And just like that it was settled. He means it and will keep his word. She would disappear along with him.
"So I won?" She asks playfully, testing the waters.
He tilts his head and fakes seriousness. "For now!"
But it is a promise, maybe not of a fairytale but a story to be continued nonetheless.
- Fin -
*writer comes out of hiding* I hope the fic was... satisfying?