Lizzie didn't usually do this kind of thing. She didn't go to the clubs, she curled up at home with a book, or called Reddington trying wheedle more names from him. She definitely didn't go to the club she found herself in. But with her life falling around her, Tom, or Jacob, or whoever the hell he really was a fake, she felt she'd lost control. She just wanted to forget. To live, to feel something other than the despair her life had become. She could've called Red, could've gone to him and he would have welcomed her but she was weary. Weary of him, of herself, of their relationship and the constant underlying tone she felt between them. She wondered idly if Red noticed it as well.
She showed the bouncer her I.D. and was waved inside. Her senses were assaulted by flashing strobe lights and a club mix of Justin Timberlake's Bringing sexy back. She made her way through the writhing dancing crowds to the bar, shouting her order to the bartender.
The music pulsated around her and through her and as she drank drink after drink, she found herself moving to the beats flowing around her. Several men were eying her form the dance floor and finally she gave in. she lost herself to the pulsing sounds and feelings and let caution fly out the window.
Lizzie found her way into the throng of people dancing around, writhing their bodies together, oblivious to hers as well as their own inner turmoil. I guess that's the point, she thought to herself, dancing in the crowd of men that had been watching her. The strobe lights bounced around them and they writhed together, hips grinding and hands grabbing and every time one touched her she felt herself feel just a little. Felt her mind slip just a little further from all the confusing feelings of her life and relationships, or perhaps lack thereof on some fronts. Lizzie wasn't sure how long she danced. She was sweaty and breathless and had moved from throng to throng of men and women, dancing with some, dancing against some.
And all the while she drank. Sometimes water, more often than not alcohol. At one point she did shots with the group of men she'd first started dancing with before moving on.
Red.
The thought unbidden came to her mind, the hair on the back of her neck standing. She knew he was there. Before she'd seen him, she knew he was there and he was watching her. Her inebriated mind perked up at the thought. She had lost control. Of her life, of her feelings, and the alcohol and wild dancing was almost cathartic. And now the center of her issues, however loathe she was to admit it, was there and watching her. She slowed her movements, circling slowly looking for the man in question from the dance floor.
There! Her brain shouted at her. And there he was, sure enough. Shakira boomed through the speakers, the beginning of her hit song Hips Don't Lie. He looked relaxed, thoroughly at home though the seedy night club was far from his usual debonair settings. He was wearing his cream colored three piece suit, the jacket thrown over the back of the leather sofa he sat upon. His legs crossed and his arms were against the back edge as well.
One moment she was still, gazing hazily at the man of her thoughts. The man that consumed her being more than she cared to admit. And in the next she was moving with the beat, slowly, provocatively dancing toward him and he watched her. Across the dancefloor and into the secluded corner he occupied. She ran her hands up into her hair, biting her lip and she saw him move infinitesimally the closer she got.
This she could control. This attraction, this need to feel and need to feel him, she could control this. It was the only thing she could control maybe. As she drew closer, the song pulsing around them, she realized that was just a semblance of her imagination as well. Because she was drawn to him, like a moth to a flame. And his flame was bright beacon of light in her otherwise current desolate existence.
She shed her jacket, dropping it haphazardly to the floor as she moved. She didn't care she probably wouldn't see it again.
"Lizzie!" he smiled at her, his voice deeper than usual. His eyes watched her body move and just maybe she thought he was as drawn to her for the same reasons. He had to be, he'd said she was his second chance after all.
"Red," she came closer, bypassing formalities and putting a knee on the couch next to his thigh. She could feel the heat from his body, feel the electricity in the air between them.
"What a wonderful evening," Red continued, a slight hitch to his voice. She was shimmying above him, making speech difficult. He'd followed her to this club to insure her safety, to be sure she wouldn't be reckless. But it seemed he would be her reckless decision tonight. He wasn't sure how he felt about that either. He was sure though he could never tell her no.
Lizzie felt alive as she danced against his lap, sliding her hands down her breasts and back up, throwing her head back and smiling at the way the music made her feel.
Red watched her carefully, looking for any signs that she wasn't making this decision with a moderately clear mind. But the more she danced to the music against him, the more she stared silently at his face, the more he realized she knew what she was doing and knew in kind what she wanted.
A jolt shocked through her system when she placed her hands on his shoulders, felt the warm sinew of his muscles beneath his expensive dress shirt. He breathed harshly through his nose, letting her know he'd felt it too. Her confidence boosted, she climbed onto his lap completely, lowering her body to his and gyrated her hips against his seductively. He twitched beneath her and she felt it in another shock wave of intensity.
"Lizzie," he murmured as she leaned above him, her hair creating a shroud from the outside light. His mossy green eyes bore into hers. He'd said only her name, but implied so much, much more. Her fingers curled into the material of his clothing, wrinkling the fine fabric and then she was smashing her lips to his. It was rough and primal, pent up aggravation and wanton behavior flowing freely and he ate her up. His teeth nipped her lips and she moaned against him, opening her mouth in acceptance of his probing tongue and all thought fled her mind.
This was what she wanted. This was the feeling she'd been searching for all night. The electric taste of his lips against hers was so much more, so much more than any touch she'd felt out on the dance floor earlier that evening. She felt his arms come around to her back, his strong hands sliding up her back and down again to squeeze at her hips as she continued her slow and heady gyrations against his groin.
"Mm, Red," she moaned between kissing him and kissing his chin and jaw. She was drunk on his flavor, so uniquely his. Sweet like a fine wine with the fiery kick of that expensive scotch and bourbon he so loved and just a hint of the cigars he smoked. It was a heady concoction and she wanted. No she needed more of him.
"Sweetheart, if this is a one-time deal, a mindless romp, I'll gladly give you it, but know I can't come back from this," his voice trudged through her addled mind and though it should have shocked the sense into her, he was the FBI's fourth most wanted, the liaison to catching criminals, a criminal himself, it merely solidified her suspicions about them. She'd wanted him since he'd began showing her the truth about her life, her friends, her husband. The seeds had been planted long ago, this was just their culmination.
"I don't want to come back from this," she breathed against his lips, sliding her hands from his shoulders to unbutton his shirt, his vest having been open she reached him earlier. Her fingers didn't even tremble as his shirt opened beneath them. Her body however did. It was eager. She was eager.
Red let her push his shirt, vest and all, from his shoulders, and though he had a mild flash of panic at the thought of her feeling his scars, it was quickly quashed when she ran her hands through the soft hair on his chest. Her nails scraped lightly across his nipples and he groaned, bucking involuntarily against her body. She felt his warm hands, calloused and rough, slide up the smooth expanse of her back beneath her green wide neck tee, pulling it quickly over her head and dropping it beside them.
"Lizzie," Red moaned again, burying his face against her chest, kissing and nibbling the mounds of her cleavage. "Lizzie," he seemed stuck on her name as he kissed up the milky expanse of her skin to tug at her white lace bra with his teeth. He tugged down over her nipple, greedily sucking the pink hardened flesh into his mouth.
"Oh, Red," she groaned and pushed against his face. This was what she'd wanted for so long, locked away inside her, this want and need. The tendrils of desire raced around her body from where he sucked and nibbled her puckered nipple, to where his hands were deftly undoing the clasp of her bra. He leaned back long enough to let her slide it from her body. His eyes dilated and wide drank her in. he wanted there, right there, but he'd be damned to let prying eyes spy his beautiful woman.
Later, Elizabeth might have wondered how they left the club unseen, or why he had a car waiting out back with Dembe in the driver's seat. She might have wondered what happened to her own car and the articles of clothing that got left at the club but that was later.
She was in the now.
And the now was in Red's hotel suite, top penthouse overlooking downtown DC. The night was beautiful, the moon full and bright, shining in from the balcony but she wasn't concerned about it. And neither was he. His lips found hers again, fumbling through the penthouse to the bedroom and toppling down to the mattress.
"Lizzie, Lizzie, Lizzie," he rumbled again and again, leaving wet open kisses down her neck and chest and she writhed against him as she had in the club. Moaning for more when he sucked a nipple into his mouth, flicking the nub with his tongue over and over. Wet heat flooded her jeans and panties and she moaned at the uncomfortably arousing way it felt. Her hands rubbed at his short hair, neither guiding nor pulling him in any particular direction, she was simply lost to his wandering mouth. He kissed across her chest, showing equal fervor to her neglected nipple and she moaned low in her throat. A sweet, little moan that he wanted to her again and again.
"Red, Red more, please," she began tugging her jeans down and he was happily to oblige her. Helping her remove her heels, stocking and jeans in a few moments. She was naked before him, her skin a beautiful creamy pearl in the light of the moon. Flushed from her face down into her neck and chest and he needed her now, right now. Quickly he shed his trousers and shoes, as if he didn't have a care in the world for the expensive price tags she knew were attached to them.
He was an attentive lover, kissing up and down her legs, nibbling behind her knees, swirling his tongue in the hollows of her hips and devolving her to a quivering mess of nerves and lust. Everywhere he touched her was fire and ice, a combination of electricity and grounding at the same time.
"Red, please!" she moaned breathlessly, her hands knotted in the sheets and he teased her most intimate places. His fingers brushed her lips, a chuckle escaping him.
"Lizzie, sweetheart, I intend to enjoy you," he gruffly moaned from between her legs, lightly sliding his tongue across her heated sex and she cried out. A keening wail that had the man inside him strutting about.
"Oh, Lizzie," he groaned and delved into her. She cried out again, another keening wail that carried his name as he licked and sucked her lips, kissing her most intimately as if he would her mouth. He sat up, grasping her bottom in his hands and her legs over his shoulder and she arched from the bed, pushing into his mouth as best she could and Red groaned against her. The sound vibrating deliberately through her womanhood. She quivered against his lips and mouth, her clit hard and begging attention and he scraped his teeth over the bundle of nerves before sucking into his mouth and flicking it back and forth.
"Fuck, Red!" she cried, coming rivulets into his mouth and he lapped her up eagerly, his own hard arousal bobbing with anticipated release, slick with precum already. He intended to let her rest a moment, to lavish her body with more attention and let her nerves calm but as soon as he laid her hips back down to the bed she was pulling him atop her, grinding her hips against his, his cock sliding easily and slickly against her folds making them both groan.
"Now, red, no more, now," she flipped them and he willingly rolled to his back. He inhaled sharply when her hand wrapped around his hard length, her hand stroking slowly, almost lazily. She rose above him, one hand curled into the hair on his chest, and positioned her body above his. His hands kneaded her hips and together they guided her body down slowly. His thick head popped into her body, stretching her wider than any other man she'd ever been with. In unison, their groans echoed around the room, bouncing off the walls and furniture.
"Liiiizziiiiee," he moaned drawn out, like her name was a benediction itself. He bottomed out against her cervix, and she stilled, letting her body accommodate his generous endowment. His hands reflexively squeezed and released her hips over and over and his eyes bore into hers.
"Like a goddess," he murmured, a hand sliding up to cup a breast and knead gently, his thumb flicking her nipple and she bit her lip. The moon cast half her face and his in shadow and she began to move against him. A slow grinding ride against him and he moaned at her muscles stretching and collapsing again and again around her.
"Lizzie I want to kiss you," he groaned, sliding the hand at her breast into her hair and pulling her down. She willing came to him, laying the length of his body as they moved together. He had one hand on her bottom, kneading the flexing muscle and one at her neck. And he kissed her. He kissed her like a dying man in the desert drinking his first cold cup of water. She groaned at his intensity, tasted his affection and want and returned the fervor as best she could and he moaned at her as well. The friction his chest hair created against her as she slid against him was invigorating and wanton. Soon she was moving faster and faster, craving that release with him.
"Oh Lizzie, sweetheart, ride me," he growled against her lips, his hips hitting hers in a counter rhythm that had her eyes rolling backward in her head. She groaned and writhed, and he moaned and countered and their bodies moved fluidly together until she was moaning his name breathlessly as he rolled them over.
"Red, oh Red right there," she groaned, her electric blue eyes wide and unseeing as he pounded into her body over and over. Her legs wrapped around his hips and changed the trajectory of his body into hers and they both groaned loudly at the depth he was hitting now.
"So close, Lizzie, I'm so close," he kissed her ravenously, grabbing her wrists and pinning them above her head, stretching her body beneath his. He put her wrists into one hand, using the other to hoist one of her legs up onto his shoulder and she shattered explosively around his engorged manhood.
"Red, fuck yes, Red, Red, Raaaymond!" she moaned as her climax washed over her. His given name tumbling from her lips pushed his control to a snap and he was climaxing, coming hard in long gushing spurts into her body.
"Lizzie…" he sighed harshly, falling to the side of her body. He was gratified when she tugged on his hand, pulling him over to her side and wrapping his arm around her side. She was asleep in moments, pulled in by her exhaustion and the evening's pursuits. He watched her a moment, counted her soft breaths as she breathed, and realized just how gut wrenchingly deep he was in love with her. Sighing, he pulled the comforter over them, curling against her back and was gratified again when she settled closer to him, murmuring his name in her sleep. He watched her until exhaustion overtook him as well, falling into the most peaceful sleep he'd had in years.