Author's Note: Thanks for keeping up with the quick updates, guys! And thank you especially for the reviews, as well. This chapter ended up going in a different direction from what I had originally planned, resulting in a much less involved (but more logical and believable) story. The extra smut wasn't added because of that, BUT hopefully it compensates some, just the same. Shoutout to my smutbunny FrostyFingers! Will the Lizzington lovefest beat the Sheen? I don't know, but I'm gonna try... in the next chapter.
I own nothing, btw.
-...-...-
Chapter Four
In the middle of the night, Liz was awakened by a sound-asleep Alan Shore, groping her and grinding against the small of her back, in what must have been an overly-pleasant dream. Uncertain of how to react, she tried to be still, but found herself increasingly turned on by his somnulant antics. When his hand slipped beneath her shirt to cup her breast, a soft moan escaped her lips, just loud enough to wake him. Startled, Alan flinched and recoiled, withdrawing his hand.
Emboldened, Liz turned to face him, her eyes hidden by shadows. "You're not gonna stop there, are you?" Without waiting for his reply, she slipped a hand beneath the elastic waistband of his boxers, and wrapped her fingers around him. His eyes closed, overcome by the swell of pleasure, and the response compelled Liz to continue. Her thumb slipped over his head, collecting the small bead of precum, and she spread it down his length before sliding back up for more, just shy of establishing a predictable rhythm. She licked her lips in anticipation, and the sound of his ragged breathing filled the room.
With a sharp inhale, Alan suddenly pulled back and ducked below the comforter, pausing only briefly to gaze up at her with rheumy, hooded eyes. The unspoken message was clear. This time, he wasn't to be interrupted. He hooked his thumbs into her panties and tugged them off. As he made himself at home, between her parted thighs, Liz's hands instinctively flew back to grip the headboard, or the nightstand-anything to anchor herself, really.
After spending less than a full day in his company, she was already coming to the conclusion that Alan did nothing halfway. His lips curled into a smile, suckled, kissed, and smacked. His tongue lapped, swirled, and thrusted. His vocal chords hummed and trilled, extolling messages of reverence and adoration. He was fully present, but Liz was floating miles above, lost to the overwhelming rush of ecstacy.
It wasn't until Alan stopped to ask if she was okay that Liz became aware of the other-worldly sounds escaping from her lips. Who could blame her? Tom was so unskilled that Liz had been living under the impression that she didn't even like oral sex. She vigorously nodded, her response a breathless, "Please don't stop."
Reassured that all was well, Alan tossed her a pillow, and then brought his hands into the action. With a flick of his tongue and a curl of his index and middle fingers, Liz shook and crushed the pillow over her mouth to muffle her screams.
He slipped out of his boxers before resurfacing, a smug grin extended from his lips to the corners of his sparkling green eyes. He grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it up as he kissed his way up her stomach, between her breasts, across the lateral plane of her clavicle, and to the crook of her neck, tossing her shirt to the floor. He slipped a hand between her head and the pillow, and guided her lips to his. He didn't even break the kiss as he blindly reached into the nightstand's drawer to grab a condom.
Liz let him set the pace as he slowly pressed into her, mindful of her post-oral sensitivity. She shuddered and writhed beneath him as he nearly withdrew entirely with each back stroke, and then buried himself completely, twisting his hips each time he rocked forward. Her inner muscles squeezed around him in protest each time he pulled back. She was determined to make him let go, but Alan needed to feel her coming around him first. Liz wasn't making it easy. She pressed her feet to the mattress, lifting her hips to meet him halfway, demanding more.
Alan took advantage of the opportunity to slide a pillow beneath her hips, sharply recallibrating his trajectory, and finally hitting at exactly the right spot. Her nails dug into the nape of his neck, her muscles quivering. She was close. So close. With the next thrust, he stilled himself inside of her, and his peripheral vision faded to black. He synchronized his breath with hers, while every fiber of their bodies screamed for friction. Still not pulling back, he reached down to hook her knee with his arm, and pulled it back, allowing him to somehow press just the slightest bit deeper and harder, exactly where she needed it. She cried out when he finally started to move again, her entire body overcome, and he lost all sense of control, pounding into her until he too found his release, biting into the pillow to muffle his moans.
Alan's last conscious thought before falling back asleep was the sad remembrance that Lizzie wasn't his to keep.
-...-...-
When morning came, Alan took a shower with the door open- an unspoken but clear invitation for Liz to join him, and she obliged. They washed eachother's hair, both melting under the weight of such tender and intimate touch, but they didn't have time to take things any further. After drying off and getting dressed, Liz sat on the edge of the bed, with a clear view into the bathroom, through the open door. She watched Alan while he shaved his face, wearing only the towel wrapped around his waist. The cliched moment of domesticity felt surreal, but still comfortable.
Perhaps a little too comfortable, she thought.
After Alan finished getting ready for work, they headed towards the elevator. Liz was still wearing her dress from the night before, but at least she was fresh from her shower. As the doors chimed and started to close, they heard a man calling out, asking them to hold the door.
Red.
Alan hastily extended his arm to keep it open, and Red shuffled in, offering just a hint of a smile in gratitude. His eyes swept over Liz's dress in a quiet but blatant display of contempt. He turned and stood in the space between them, facing the door.
"I hope I'm still in time for the free breakfast," Red quipped, through pinched lips.
There was an elephant in that tiny elevator, and no one was brave enough to address it. Red didn't know that Alan and Liz knew that he was there. Alan and Liz didn't know that Red knew that they were there. Red exited at the ground floor, while Alan and Liz continued below, to the parking garage.
In the car, Liz let out a heavy sigh. "Well, that was awkward."
"Yes," he shortly agreed.
Alan dropped Liz off at her hotel on his way to work. He sat through a boring staff meeting, and then disappeared into his office to get started on her case. Liz hadn't officially hired him yet, but Alan assumed that she would. It came as no surprise to him that no one gave any thought to discussing her lowlife husband last night.
A little blackmail could do the trick, perhaps with a side dish of extortion, for good measure. He had a few resources up his sleeve that could take care of both, but first, he needed to find someone that Tom actually gave a damn about. There must be someone. A parent, a sibling, or a lover perhaps?
He could ask Liz, of course, but Alan understood something about people like Tom, and he had to make room for the possibility that Liz was too entrenched in the situation to have the same understanding. A good liar passes off their lies by offering smaller, less heinous truths. For Tom to have gotten away with his ruse for so long, he would have to be incredibly skilled at lying, especially being married to an intelligent woman who rooted around in the minds of criminals for a living.
If Tom had anyone in his life that he really cared about, there was a very good chance that Liz wasn't even aware of that person's existence. Alan still knew very little about the nature of Liz's relationship with Reddington, but she did mention that he knows everything about her. He may know more about Tom than she does.
Alan would have to call him, but after last night's tension, he couldn't be sure if the call would be welcomed or not. It was obvious that Red didn't like the idea of him hooking up with Lizzie, but he knew better than to take it personally. Under different circumstances, he was almost certain that he and Reddington could have become fast friends. Denny's obvious affection for the man spoke volumes.
That brought Alan to a potentially complicated decision. Should he tell Lizzie before calling Raymond? She probably wouldn't like it. If they got results, however, she'd have to forgive him. But Raymond might be unwilling or unable to help, and if so, then her anger wouldn't be easily assuaged.
The fact that he even cared so much in the first place was troubling. He'd only just met the woman, after all. Sure, they had slept together, both literally and colloquially, but that had never been enough to cause Alan to form attachments before. It was very poor timing on the part of his heart. Liz was the wrong woman, in the wrong place, and at the wrong time in his life. Her impending departure was a certainty, and already Alan knew that he would miss her, perhaps even fiercely.
With that in mind, he decided that if she became angry with him for asking for Reddington's help, it might be for the best. He pulled Red's cigars from his pocket, and found Denny in his office.
"These are for you, from Raymond. He asked me to tell you that they have 'a little something extra'."
Denny let out a pleased little grunt, accepting the proffered box. "Your date, how did it go? You're still alive! Must have been good."
"The date itself wasn't exactly a blast, but after... after, we did have a blast." He grinned smugly. "Twice, actually."
"Hmm, sounds nice. Go on," he prodded.
"Unfortunately, I'll have to save that for the balcony tonight. Right now, I need to attend to a matter of some urgency."
"Alan! Come on," he pouted.
"Later Denny, I promise. First, I need your help."
Denny's eyes narrowed. "Still listening," he reluctantly conceded.
"Raymond Reddington's phone number, please." His eyebrows lifted.
"May I ask why?"
"I need to consult him in order to more effectively blackmail and extort Liz's ex-husband."
"I don't follow."
"I'll explain that tonight, as well."
Denny passed his rolodex. "It's somewhere in there. Just so you know, I will be holding you to that promise!"
On his way out the door, rolodex in-hand, Alan turned and smiled at his friend. "I have no doubt."
Seated at his desk, Alan flipped through the pages until he found Reddington. He drew in a breath and held it as he dialed the number.
A man answered on the third ring, but it wasn't Reddington. His bodyguard perhaps?
"This is Alan Shore. I'd like to have a word with Raymond."
"One moment, please," the maybe-bodyguard replied.
Alan heard a few muffled sounds as both the message and phone were relayed.
"Hello Alan. How can I help you?" Red asked.
"Well, I'm not sure whether or not you can help me, but I have an idea that could bring some justice for Liz with her divorce."
"Oh?"
"By means which are covertly off the record, lest I be disbarred and probably jailed."
Red chuckled. "Well Alan, you've come to the right man. I'm an expert in such means. We'll discuss them in person. Are you due in court today?"
"Good. After last night, I wasn't sure if you'd be so... agreeable. I'll be at the firm until around seven."
"Excellent. I'll be there in an hour."
"Thank you."
"Oh, and Alan? You shouldn't be surprised. I'll do anything for Lizzie, always, but... regarding last night, we'll have to discuss that too."
"Hm. As we should."
Alan hung up and drummed his fingers on his desk. This could be interesting.
-...-...-
Exactly one hour later, Red strolled in without knocking. He sat in a chair in front of Alan's desk, leaning back and crossing his legs comfortably. Without preamble, Alan jumped right into business.
"A simple bit of blackmail should do the trick. I need to know if there's anyone that her ex-husband really cares about. One of my less savory friends will ah... persuade... that person to convince Lizzie's ex-husband to give her everything and promptly disappear. How they're persuaded will, of course, depend on who the person is."
Red nodded thoughtfully, and then affixed his gaze on Alan's. "What makes you think that I haven't already tried that myself?"
"I made no assumptions one way or the other. Are you saying that you have?"
Red's eyes narrowed, but didn't leave Alan's face. "No, I haven't, but I have my reasons. Lizzie may want to bleed Tom metaphorically dry, but nothing worthwhile would come of it, and I'm rich. If she needs money, it's hers. If she wanted him dead, I'd kill him. There's merit in that. He deserves it. Antagonizing him with blackmail and extortion would indefinitely open the door for an act of vengeance. As it is, we have a truce. I've successfully convinced Tom to stay out of not only Lizzie's life, but the continental United States of America."
"Ah... I see," Alan replied. "Then why did you even agree to this meeting in the first place?"
"I thought I should hear you out, and we need to discuss last night. I'd prefer to do so without giving you the option of hanging up on me."
Alan set his jaw and blinked, awaiting either a verbal or physical lashing.
"You intend to let her return to DC without putting up a fuss, I presume."
"Yes, and truthfully? I'll miss her, but we'll part in peace. Easy come, easy go, as they say."
Red nodded, satisfied with his answer. "She likes you."
"I know. I like her too," Alan replied.
"I know."
A brief and charged silence passed between them.
"But I love her."
Despite knowing the answer, Alan asked, "But have you told her?"
"No. That would be jumping the gun."
"I'm not sure if I should be telling you this, but last night..." Alan trailed off, searching for the right words.
"Yes?"
"We heard you, with Sally."
"Oh." Red sucked in a deep breath, tapping his fedora on his thigh. "What did she say?"
"She didn't say anything, actually. We walked in and she immediately excused herself to use the restroom. She was shaken, but trying her damnedest to conceal it."
"What did you do?"
Alan's shoulders slumped with a sigh. "I asked her why she hasn't told you that she loves you."
Red chewed his cheek, and Alan continued, answering the question that was no doubt on the tip of Red's tongue. "She denied it. I'm unconvinced, but I didn't press her."
"Well okay then. Thank you," Red said.
"For what?" Alan's lips quirked, perplexed.
"The truth. Now I can apologize to Lizzie before her anger bubbles up and boils over." Red stood to take his leave, but paused in the doorway and turned back to face him. "By the way, Alan, don't worry. I'm not going to kill you, and if it's any consolation, from what I've seen, you don't appear to be empty on the inside. In fact, I'd wager that you have much more inner substance than most."
He nodded curtly and left without waiting for a reply.
Alan could barely suppress the urge to leap through the window.
