"I struggle to see how this form of torture benefits me," he huffed unhappily after Elizabeth shattered his hopes for consummating their newly-found chemistry for the seventh time that week. Truthfully, he'd been huffing rather frequently lately. Turns out, recovering from a bullet in the right lung wasn't pretty, and the heroic nuances of the event were ebbing off staggeringly quickly. His life had succumbed to a routine that served to remind him of his 55 years on this Earth, and what physical aging meant.
"Not dying due to a severe lack of oxygen would benefit you more than you know, Reddington," Elizabeth smirked before entering his bathroom and closing the door.
Having to avoid sexual release as a result of almost dying was a cruel aftermath, Lizzie thought as she brushed her teeth. It seemed to her that one near-death experience should be the end of the man's suffering, not a reason for added frustration.
Focusing on how miserable Reddington was distracted her from her own dissatisfaction with his temporary physical limitations, so she embraced every rush of altruism readily. At the end of the day, it was a matter of fourteen torturous days before he'd be allowed sexual encounters again.
She came in the shower. Just once, she justified
She did make it out of the bathroom. Red didn't bother asking unnecessary questions. She got dressed in a rush, rambling about work in the process. He smiled and listened.
"Two more weeks," she announced happily and leaned in to kiss his mouth.