AN: The final chapter of Madele's Christmas gift exchange fic. Smut time! There's also a pretty big nod to Alan Shore and Tara Wilson, for the Boston Legal fans out there. As always, I own none of the characters, and I'm not profiting from this little ficlet. Thank you for reading, and do let me know what you think!
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After stuffing their faces with s'mores, neither Red nor Liz felt inclined to bother with having a real dinner, so instead, they merrily plopped down on the couch and continued to drink. They started off relatively close together, but as the minutes turned into hours, they drew closer and closer, until Liz was tucked neatly into his side with both knees drawn up to her chest, and his arm was around her shoulders, holding her comfortably in place. He told her story after story from his years on the run, all with the underlying theme of making the best out of what most people would consider the worst. She deeply admired that about him. He was a true bon vivant, rapacious and vibrant in all of the best ways. The copious amount of red wine brought a warm flush to his cheeks that she'd never seen before. Perhaps that's one reason he so often reached for his trusty scotch, despite his apparent appreciation for red wines.
Here, in this tiny cabin on a Christmas tree farm, they couldn't go anywhere, but she didn't feel trapped. If Red had opened the door to show that the snow had magically disappeared, she wouldn't want to go anywhere. They were having plenty of fun, and she truly felt safe for the first time in forever. More importantly, it seemed that Red felt safe too - as safe as she'd ever seen him feel, at least. Nothing was better than watching his tension gradually slip away, even if aided by the alcohol.
It suddenly occurred to her that she hadn't been paying attention to his current tale, so she abruptly took his hand and lifted her head from his shoulder to look at him directly. "I'm sorry to interrupt you, but I just need to say something real quick, if you don't mind."
"Of course." He hid his mild surprise admirably, but immediately gave her his full attention.
"I know that this doesn't count for much. I don't exactly have a lot people that I would call friends, especially now, but..." She hesitated for a second, taking a deep breath, and then continued, "There's no one else I'd rather be snowed in with right now... or ever, even. You've made this into a fun little interlude from the madness of the past few months, and I'm so grateful. I know it wasn't planned, but I think I needed this, so thank you."
This time, he wore his surprise quite plainly, and it was adorable. "You're welcome, and don't worry. You'll be able to have a much better selection of friends when all of this is over."
He was making a dig at himself, and she didn't like it at all. "That may be true, but I said ever, Red, and I meant it."
He kissed her temple and nuzzled her hair wistfully. "That may be true, but you deserve better, less corrupt company."
She wanted to take that godawful pedestal that he'd placed her on and crush it with a sledgehammer. "Red, can I ask you something? It's a little personal."
His nervous chuckle was exceptionally endearing. "We both know that you're going to ask me anyway, so go ahead, but I hope you won't be too cross with me if I don't answer."
Oh, no, not cross. Not this time. "No, I won't be, but I might be disappointed."
Hadn't he disappointed her enough for one lifetime? It wasn't much of a reassurance, though it appeared to him that she'd intended it to be. "Out with it, then."
"Are you by any chance stuck in one of those interminable, hopeful waiting games that you mentioned earlier?"
He stiffened against her, completely taken off guard by her bold inquiry. "To answer that question would be considered 'making a move', wouldn't it?"
Aha! Her heart began to pound so quickly that she could hardly think straight. That non-answer was definitely an answer, and it was the one she most wanted, to boot. She dropped her hand and placed it on his thigh. "No, it's not. It's just talk."
"Lizzie, I'm surprised at you. You're well-educated. You've worked for The Bureau. Even a first-year law student knows that talk is considered legally actionable."
She turned her face towards him and rested her forehead against his before whispering, "Well, I think a 'first move' is a kiss."
He dropped his own voice accordingly, all the way down to that impossibly low octave that spears right between her legs. "No, a kiss is so much more than that."
"I never figured you to put such a high premium on a kiss."
Apparently he did, at least on the first one.
"A kiss is the promise of what's to come, Elizabeth," he rumbled. "A kiss is... the Christmas Eve of sex."
His metaphor of choice surprised her. At last, tragedy must have been far from his mind. She shivered and set down her wine glass, freeing her hand to run her fingers across the back of his scalp and settle at the nape of his neck. His answering involuntary shiver spurred her on and thrilled her to her core.
The Concierge of Crime was spellbound, at her mercy.
She leaned in again and nuzzled his sideburns as she whispered into his ear, "I actually favor the Christmas Eve of Christmas Eve."
Confusion briefly pulled him from her spell. "I'm sorry?" he croaked.
"See, it's not the actual kiss so much as the moment right before the lips touch, when you're so close..."
His breath became shallow and slightly labored, but he was just sitting there, stock still, awaiting whatever may come next. He seemed almost tortured, in a way, but it was such a sweet torture.
Her onslaught progressed slowly. She inched her hand up his thigh and nudged his nose with her own. "So close that you can almost feel it. Taste it. I like that bit to last forever." He shuddered and closed his eyes, but he wasn't stopping her, so she allowed her trembling bottom lip to pass over his ever so slightly, and said, "Don't you just love to make it last?"
"No," he breathed.
Her eyes flitted downward for a split second, and she saw that his sweatpants were already tented. He'd clearly done enough waiting. She squeezed her legs together at the very enticing sight. In truth, she wouldn't have minded jumping forward to Christmas Day.
Her hand on his neck held him in place as she finally pressed her lips against his. Still, he seemed frozen, as if in disbelief, so she kissed him again. "Raymond?"
His eyes fluttered open. "Mm?"
"That was a move."
All at once, he seemed to break open and snap to attention, into the moment. He grabbed her hips and pulled her into his lap with a low growl. "So is this." He took her lips with a fervor that made her gasp into his eager mouth. She swept her tongue past his parted lips and eased her weight down against him, earning a delightful, low moan.
Everything she had imagined about this moment flew right out the window. He was so much more. His fingers and lips felt electric, sending shocks through her with every move he made.
Could he feel it too? Was she living up to his fantasies? Surely he'd had them, if he'd been waiting for this as she had.
Gradually, he willed himself to slow down, to try to savor her. His hands were gently caressing her sides, and she could feel his fingers twitch against the urge to pull her more tightly against him. He kissed her along her jaw, up to her ear, and asked, "Is this really happening? Do you really want this to be happening?"
She cupped his face with both hands, her expression deadly serious while trying not to show her frustration. "That first move I made? That's called consent. Can't you just enjoy this as much as I am?"
She took his lips again, but he pulled back to reply, "I believe you can feel exactly how much I'm enjoying this, but I don't understand how or why you could want it, unless it's just to scratch an itch."
"What if it is?" It wasn't, but she was suddenly curious and mildly offended at once. More than that, she was wondering if that's what it was for him. He had needs too, after all, and as far as she knew, he hadn't been with anyone since they'd been on the run together.
His entire expression seemed to fall, his eyes dropping away from hers and then down to her waist. "Then okay, I suppose, but then I'll... still be waiting, is all, until the next time. I'll have to wonder if there will even be a next time."
"And if it isn't that? If it's more?" She waited while his eyes slowly drifted back to settle on hers. "You can't deny that we've always had a strong, confusing intensity between us, from day one. These last few months have clarified things. We've been dancing around this for a long time, and I'm tired of dancing."
His eyes brightened, but his lips tugged into a thin line. "Then I'm back to not understanding, to an extent. Are you sure this isn't the wine talking? I've made so many mistakes with you, sweetheart. The prospect of a regretful morning after is something I need to think about now, before it's too late, especially because you won't be able to get any time away from me for at least a few days."
She leaned in to kiss him again, still cupping his face with both hands, and she tried to pour every bit of her certainty into it, so he couldn't help but respond in kind. She gave him a kiss that surely held the promise of what was to come. Not just Christmas Day, but New Years Eve and every other holiday as well. He had to feel it. "How about we just do this for a few days instead, and more, hmm?"
"I probably should, but I'm too weak to deny you that."
She hummed and kissed him again. "And I'm too strong to let you, anyway. My mind is made up." In one smooth motion, she pulled her camisole up, over her head, and let it drop to the floor behind her. She immediately leaned forward, seeking his warmth, but Red grabbed her shoulders and pressed her back a bit.
"Slow down. At least let me see you."
"Yeah? Like this?" She smiled coyly, put her hands on his knees and arched her back, letting her hair cascade behind her, giving him a prime view.
He swallowed thickly, momentarily losing his voice. "Yeah, yes. God, you're exquisite." In a flash, he lurched forward to wrap his lips around her left nipple, his fingers tangling through her hair and pulling her in. He took his time, swirling his tongue and kissing his way over to the other, and then up to her neck. All the while, she writhed in his lap and twisted her hips against him, matching the rhythm of his mouth.
For ages, she'd been dying to comb her fingers through his chest hair (or at least to see it free of blood), but when she reached for the hem of his shirt, he blanched slightly beneath her. "What?" she asked.
"Hm? It's nothing. Here, I'll help." He lifted his arms, facilitating the quick removal of his shirt.
But it wasn't just his chest that she was so eager to see. It was his shoulders too, so broad and firm and just begging to be gripped by her capable hands. She took a moment to enjoy a solely tactile exploration of his chest, leaving no square inch untouched.
Her first discovery was the freckles on his shoulders. She delighted in the surprise, enjoying how the flickering firelight danced over them. She leaned forward, pressing her chest against his to inspect them more closely, slipping her arms around his back in the process, where she made another discovery.
What the hell?
Too much texture. Indentations, lines, and rivulets. A whole sheet of scars, like a massive topographic map - the kind of scars that tell silent tales of abject horror.
But Red, the ever-smiling troubadour, had never told her this one.
"Red?"
Confusion and innate understanding collided as the heat from the fireplace continued to warm her own bare back.
The man who had found her, only to fall to the floor. It was him.
After a long pause, he muttered, "I can put my shirt back on," speaking only to the moment, and offering no explanation.
Fine by her.
Maybe it was the wine that dulled her racing mind, but she needed no immediate answers.
She thought back to the moment with her delicious, burned marshmallows. "No! Please, leave it off. I know what these are, and it's okay. You're perfect, Red, just like this." She slipped from his lap and stood up, grabbing his hands to pull him up too.
"Are you su -" he began, only to be interrupted by her finger pressed against his lips.
"You don't want to finish that sentence."
"No, I don't. What I want to do is this." He slipped out of his sweatpants and boxers at once, kicking both aside.
And oh god, goddamn, she didn't want to be so base as to ogle the goods, but there he was and there they were and not looking was not an option. She gave in and let her eyes scale the length of him, first from head to toe, and then from base to tip. She wanted to wrap her lips around him and see how deeply she could make him moan.
Red took a step forward and hooked his thumbs into her yoga pants, his eyes searching hers for silent permission. She answered by covering his hands with her own and guiding them to push her pants and panties down, and then he kneeled at her feet to help her step out of them. It was his turn to ogle, and he did so on his knees, shameless in his apparent adoration for her. By the look on his face, his thoughts must have been similar to her own. He appeared at once predatory and reverent, and as he stood up, his hands never left her skin. He caressed from her calves, all the way up to her waist, and then pulled her in for a mind-meltingly deep kiss that took her breath away.
Without breaking the kiss, she guided him towards the bed and pushed him back until he was sitting down on it, and then she followed him down partway, dropping to her knees in front of him. Anticipating his protest, she grabbed both of his hands and pinned them to the bed on either side of this thighs. Slowly, she kissed just below his navel and followed the trail of hair down to his twitching member.
He squeezed her hands, probably harder than he intended, as she flattened her tongue against the underside, and licked him from base to tip. "Lizzie, you don't ha - ahhh," he crumpled into a moan when she took him into her mouth all at once, as deeply as she could. The difference between 'have to' and 'want to' had long since become a matter of semantics to her.
Desire does that.
She slipped down to just the tip and began to suck, pressing him to the roof of her mouth. Already, her jaw began to stiffen with the effort of stretching around his impressive girth, but she kept going, burying him into the back of her throat and swallowing. His hips bucked a little, involuntarily, and she thrilled at it - at the effort he was making to keep it together. She hummed around him, and the little vibrations from her throat ripped a deep, low moan from his, exactly the sound she'd been aiming for.
"Sweetheart, I need you to stop. God, your mouth!" He pulled his hands away from hers and cupped her cheek imploringly. "It's too much. I won't last."
Perhaps she should have expected that.
Reluctantly, she released him. "Very well."
She climbed into the bed and lay down on her side, but he seemed frozen in the sitting position, as if indecisive about what he wanted to do next, but he turned his torso to look upon her, contemplating. He leaned down and planted a soft kiss on her knee.
"I want you on top of me," she said.
He twisted further, onto his hands and knees, and kissed her inner thigh. "You sure? Because I was thinking..." He trailed off suggestively and kissed her a couple inches higher, on her other thigh.
She reached down and ran her fingers across his scalp. "Later, maybe. Right now, I just - I just want you on me, inside me."
How could he deny her that?
She rolled onto her back and pulled her knees apart expectantly, making room for him, and he happily obliged. With his weight on his elbow, he dipped two fingers into the cleft between her thighs and groaned, disbelieving how badly she wanted him, and how ready she was.
He kissed her softly, sweetly, rocking his length against her until he was coated in her moisture.
And god, he was slipping so sweetly against her clit that her body could hardly handle it. She grabbed his ass and pulled him in more tightly, all tensed up from head to toe and seconds from coming, but Red sensed it and pulled back to growl into her ear, "Patience, Lizzie. I want to feel you come."
"Please, Red," she cried, more than a hint of desperation in her voice.
Again, he couldn't deny her, so he aligned himself and pushed forward, locking eyes with her as their bodies finally joined. She pressed the soles of her feet into the mattress and thrusted her hips upwards, seating him fully, her body screaming for friction. He stretched her to the limit and she felt, so, so exquisitely full. The slight twinge of accompanying pain was all but entirely blocked out by blinding pleasure.
He moved within her slowly. "Easy, sweetheart. You're so tight, I can't. God."
But she couldn't relax, couldn't ease up, and after only a few thrusts, she came hard around him, sinking her teeth into his shoulder as she writhed beneath his still form. It took every ounce of his self-control not to tumble into the abyss with her.
As she slowly regained her senses, her first thought was that she was absolutely ruined. No other man had ever made her feel this overwhelmingly good, and no other man ever would.
He kissed her deeply, and lovingly. "Feeling you come, oh my god, Lizzie. I've never experienced anything so beautiful, so right."
She wrapped her legs around him and lifted her hips to meet his, cradling him deep inside her. "Then I want you to feel it again," she replied.
He eased his way out and then back in again, slowly at first, but then gradually accelerating until her toes began to curl. The expression on his face was one that she didn't fully recognize, but already she looked forward to seeing it again. His brow furrowed as if in concentration, but the sea green of his eyes looked positively serene. His lips remained soft, so pillow soft as he kissed her over and over.
When she felt the tension inside of her rebuilding, he felt it too. With her legs around his waist, he lifted her up so that she was seated against him, their chests pressed together. She clutched at his back helplessly and he grabbed her hips, thrusting upwards with intensity until she cried out. Her clenching walls ripped his orgasm from him, and he met her eyes as they came apart together, his length throbbing wildly inside her.
They stayed positioned like that for a few minutes after, foreheads bowed against one another, as if in prayer.
When he was able to will his body to move, it was only to throw another log on the fire, and for the first time, she got a good look at his back. Thoughts of the excruciating pain that he must have suffered brought tears to her eyes. He climbed back into bed with a small smile on his face, oblivious to her thoughts, and gathered her into his arms.
She vowed to do everything in her power to erase that memory, and to replace it with good ones.
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After four days, the airstrip was plowed clear enough for them to take off again. While Red was in the bathroom, Liz dashed into the kitchen to stealthily grab two of the bottles of wine.
They'd make a great anniversary gift.
