AN: This is another request-fulfillment fic. If you read the last one and it made you a little sad, check this one out. I didn't get a specific prompt - just a request for a crack!Fic. I've given it a shot before (in Tune in, Turn on, Drop out) but this one is much more cracktastic and absurd (which, if I'm not mistaken, is totally the point).

It starts off as mostly light PWP/smut, and Red presents Lizzie with their next blacklister, an artist that they'll have to locate at Burning Man. If you don't already know what Burning Man is, I recommend googling it in order to have a better understanding of what Red and Liz are getting into.

Thank you in advance for reading and reviewing. I hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimed. I own nothing.

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"I've got another name for you, Lizzie. You'll love this one," Red whispered into her ear, and then nipped at the attached lobe.

She groaned and rolled over to face him. "I was asleep, asshole!"

He grabbed her hips and pulled her on top of him. "That wasn't very nice. Do you want to hear about him or not?"

"I dunno..." She trailed off, pulling her tank top over her head and twisting her hips against him. "It doesn't feel like you're in the mood to talk."

He gasped and tightened his grip, earning himself a shrug and coy smile just before she tugged at the hem of his undershirt and roughly yanked it off of him. "Burning man is next week," he said.

She pulled down his boxers and hooked her big toe into the elastic waistband to kick them down his legs without moving her mouth from his chest. Her lips blindly found his left nipple, and she bit down a little harder than intended, making him yelp.

Oh well. Red likes a little pain, and so does she.

He delivered a swift slap to the back off her thighs, and ripped off her panties.

"What about it?" She asked, breathless, and then sealed his lips with hers before he could reply.

They'd been going on like this for months now, mixing business and pleasure with great commitment. It was all very hush-hush. Only Dembe knew about them, and only because that couldn't be avoided. Liz bounced around the district, living in one motel after another, and in between, when Red was in town, she stayed with him. This way, whenever she was unexpectedly called into work, they never knew how long it might take her to get there. Any ETA was acceptable, and she loved the freedom that it afforded her.

When she released his lips with a 'smack', he replied, "We're going."

Without further ado, she pushed herself up and then sank down on him, first stretching and then squeezing around him like a vice. "No," she gasped, "We're coming, and soon."

He pulled her closer and growled into her ear, making her shudder and squirm. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he knew how much she loved it too. "Have I ever told you," he began, punctuating every word with a rough upward thrust of his hips, "how much I love the way you think?"

"Who is he?"

"Hm? Oh, christ, Lizzie... it's Liev Stepankov."

At that point, neither of them really had it in them to continue the conversation. They said nothing of putting it on pause as she began to ride him harder. Red worked a hand between them to get her there faster, and just as she began to tremble, he pushed her off of him and flipped over to re-enter her from behind, enthralled by the glorious view. With his hand back where she needed it, he had her moaning and spasming around him in seconds, and saw no reason to hold back himself. The heat and pulse of his own release drew hers out for even longer - more than she would have thought possible.

Spent, he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her against his chest and easing them back down onto the mattress, spooning without even pulling out. It was a classic Reddington move - one he knew that she loved, although she'd never said as much. She didn't have to.

When he'd sufficiently caught his breath, he went on to further explain his plan for the blacklister. "Burning man is an enormous event - an exciting collective of artists from all walks of life, and Liev is one of them. He travels around the world, teaching workshops on various types of sculpture. His is a quiet existence now, mostly rootless, but -"

Liz cut him off, "So what did he do before? Why do you want him now?"

He slipped out and pulled the blanket up to their waists. "The Kungur Six."

"Wait, what? The Kungur Six were bombs, and we already have them."

"Yes, but as you recall, the mysterious Kungur Six were blamed for some of the biggest intelligence breaches in the last thirty years. You have the bombs, but you don't have the men who really committed those crimes. And Liev Stepankov? He knows who they are, and how to find them."

"So, Burning Man. What are we doing there? How will we find him?"

"Well, first of all, we'll be bringing our own installation. Liev suffers from a serious phallus obsession. 'Suffers' may be the wrong word. I suspect that he enjoys it tremendously, but anyway, in order to find him, we'll make him come to us.. pun not intended. I've commissioned my good friend Yuri to create an enormous, interactive cock that -"

"WHAT?"

"He's got a whole team involved in the project, working around the clock. It will be about fifty feet tall, and he's making it in several pieces that will have to be welded together on-site."

"Okay, go on..." Honestly, she shouldn't be so surprised.

"Did I mention that it's interactive? Ah yes, and here's how: The veins are actually footholds. The giant cock is meant to be climbed, like one of those indoor rock walls. We'll have a few guys there to work it, helping our fellow artists to gear-up, and belaying for safety. At the top, it will have a button that makes it shoot a stream of foam straight-up into the air!"

"What the..."

"Don't worry, sweetheart. It's non-toxic, totally environmentally-friendly."

"And let me guess my cover... I'm going to have to take credit for building the giant, climbable, foam-shooting cock, aren't I? I'm the artist."

Red pulled her tightly against his chest, grinning into her shoulder. "We are going to have so much fun!"