A/N Red sees Lizzie in a whole new light. In response to an LS prompt from the smut fairy. WARNING: Major smut ahead, NSFW, strong language and minor drug use. Please do not read if any of these things offends you. You have been warned. As ever, I don't own the blacklist, I just really enjoy using the characters.

7. This Changes Everything

Red's fingers tapped on the arm of his chair for several seconds before he realized what he was doing and stilled himself. It didn't really matter – he was alone and there was no one to see him fidgeting. It was, however, a bad habit that betrayed weakness. Distraction. He'd been at this for hours now. The images of Elizabeth Keen and her treacherous, shitbag husband flashed across the screen in front of him as they had every night since he'd obtained the apple man's surveillance footage of their house. He had to watch it; he needed to know what the enemy knew and what they were looking for, and he couldn't trust any of his associates not to miss something important.

It was an individual talent of his, spotting the minutest detail, the out-of-the-ordinary… but goddam, the truth was that their lives were so ordinary it was giving him cramp. He grudgingly had to hand it to Tom Keen - the man was a master of deception. His boring, dutiful husband act was nauseatingly well executed. Why, he found himself thinking. Why would someone of Tom Keen's obvious talent want to give up the life he had as an operative to live like this for years?

For love, apparently, Red sneered to himself. He'd seen the way they made love on the recording – it was hardly worth living life as a beleaguered grade school teacher. It was pedestrian to say the least, and certainly embarrassing to watch. Seeing Sam's little girl like that, however infrequently it seemed to occur, made him feel a bit perverted. He'd briefly wondered how she had settled for this, but pushed the thought from his mind. To him she would remain the sweet girl in the photographs Sam sent at Christmas, the one thing he had in his life that was innocent. The one thing he had managed to protect. He didn't need to see her under the covers, with Tom Keen fumbling ineptly like a kid in junior high.

It had been strange enough seeing her walk down those steps for the first time at the black site. He knew what she looked like of course - he had pictures from almost every year of her life since she was four years old – but seeing her in person had thrilled him in a way he wasn't expecting. He put it down to the adrenaline of the situation; after all, being chained up in the presence of any beautiful woman would be more than enough to peak his interest. And she was beautiful…

Red shook himself mentally and tried to focus on the footage. She seemed small and dejected today, her shoulders drooping as she leaned over the kitchen counter. He hated seeing her so miserable. He could see that she was holding a note in her hand, but couldn't read it. From the way she tossed it aside after studying it he guessed that Tom Keen wasn't coming home that night. Things were not good between them. Good. The sooner she saw him for what he was, the better.

He ran a hand over his face. It was going to be a long night. He felt a pang of guilt about invading her privacy when watching her when she was alone at home, a concern that evaporated whenever Tom Keen was there playing house like a choirboy. What a clusterfuck. He watched idly as she removed her jacket and tossed it on a chair. Slovenly, he thought with a twitch of his lip. Her heels met a similar fate, left on the floor by the table. She padded back to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of red wine from the rack. Probably some undrinkable plonk. She began to work the corkscrew and he got up from his seat, pouring himself a generous glass of scotch before returning to the screen.

He returned to see that she had vacated the downstairs area, and he switched to the upstairs footage. She was in their bedroom now and had removed her blouse, leaving her in her bra and suit pants. Wine glass in hand, she opened a box on the nightstand and removed something. He leaned closer, and watched as she raised it to her lips, lighter in hand. It was a joint. His mouth curved involuntarily into a small smile. So. That rebellious side that Sam had fretted about was still in there somewhere. This was getting interesting.

He watched as she held the joint between her lips while she removed her pants. She flopped down on the bed in her bra and panties, and took a sip of wine, holding the joint nimbly between her slender fingers. There was now no doubt; under those detestable pant suits, Elizabeth Keen was hiding a sublime, and extremely grown up body. The peachy curve of her ass in those French-style panties was delectable. He bit the inside of his cheek and debated skipping ahead in the footage. It was unlikely that this would yield any information pertaining to the people monitoring her house. He took another sip of scotch.

She placed the joint in a dish on the nightstand and took another sip from her glass, before allowing her free hand to rest on her stomach, her fingers moving in little circles on her bare skin. Red frowned a little. He had a good idea of what he was about to see and he really didn't want to – it felt terribly wrong to watch Sam's girl like this. It was one thing watching her in bed under the covers with her imposter husband; he'd managed to say objective, if a little disgusted for that. But this…

She took another sip of wine, her hand moving to her breasts encased in black lace that matched her panties. He watched as her fingers stroked and pinched her nipples through the lace and he thought fleetingly over what it would be like to cup her round breasts in his large hands, of whether they would fit in his palm. Fuck. He was hard. He needed to skip past this, or better yet call it a night before his imagination went places it had no business to go.

He leaned forward to turn off the player, but stopped as he saw her hand slip inside her panties. He watched, frozen as her fingers worked slowly up and down, her eyes now closed in enjoyment. She took another sip of wine and spilled a drop which rolled down her chin and onto her chest. He would lick that right up, he thought. He would taste and tease the path of the drop before moving down the planes of her body, dipping into her navel as he removed her panties, and then slipping his tongue between her wet folds…

He'd definitely gone too far now. He suddenly wanted to see all of her, to put his hot mouth on her sweet pussy and taste her, lathe her with his tongue. God she had such a sour temperament most of the time, he wanted to tongue fuck her until she screamed his name. Without thinking, he reached down and unzipped his pants, freeing his aching length and palming himself slowly in long, even strokes.

As if she could hear him think, she wriggled her hips and pushed down her panties until they were wrapped around her thighs, leaving her mound exposed and his view of her activities totally unobstructed. His cock twitched in his hand as she returned her fingers to her centre, sliding them inside herself before moving them to her clit, working in sweet little circles.

He felt his balls tighten and slid his thumb over the weeping head of his cock, his pace becoming more erratic. God he was going to come so fucking hard, so fast – what the hell was he doing? He watched helplessly as the girl on the screen raised her hips off the bed, fucking herself on her own fingers, her mouth open in a silent 'O' of orgasm as she ground herself against her hand. He groaned audibly as he worked his cock through those final sweet spasms, spilling into his hand and swearing as he soiled his shirt cuffs.

Well, this changes things. He sat there in shock while Elizabeth Keen reached nonchalantly for her wine glass, a blissful expression on her face. After a few moments he picked up his scotch, and raised the glass in a silent toast to her image on the screen before drinking. Yes. This changes everything.