Disclaimer: I do not own The Blacklist and am not affiliated with them or NBC in any way. Still no promises if Spader offered me his goods.

A/N: I know, I know, it's a few days late and I sincerely apologize. Those of you who know me, know I had a bit of a rocky past few days in RL, so it made finishing this nearly impossible, but I finally did it! Sorry for the delay, bc everytime I say I'm going to post it on a certain date, something usually always hpns so no more projected dates, just approximate time periods in which I think they will be published! Thanks again for your support!

THIS FIC has turned into a THREE-PART STORY, due to the lengthiness of it, and the story I so desperately need to tell!

Part Two title courtesty of RAIGN- Don't Let Me Go

Song lyrics courtesy of Snow Patrol – The Lightning Strike

Let's do this thing! Please review!

You Said the Moon Would be Ours

Part II:

All I Can Give You is Memories

Just for a minute

The silver-forked sky

Lit you up like a star

That I will follow

Now it's found us

Like I have found you

I don't wanna run

Just overwhelm me

I want to see you

As you are now

Every single day

That I am living

Painted in flames

All peeling thunder

Be the lightning in me

That strikes relentless

Just before dawn, Lizzie's lids steadily flicker open at the satisfying awareness of someone touching her, humming in delight. Opening her eyes, the realization of her current predicament hits her like someone smashed her over the head with a cinderblock; she is sharing her bed with Raymond Reddington, and he is fondling her. All over her.

She is facing away from him as he plays as the big spoon, softly stroking Lizzie's back and arms with his fingertips, then gently leaning forward to place hot opened-mouthed kisses in the curvature of her neck. She has not the slightest clue if he is fully alert.

She decides to test the shifty waters, rotating in his arms toward him. His eyes are shut, and he is exhibiting deep breathing consistent with a person copiously submerged in REM sleep, all the while proceeding with his advancements as grunts vibrate from the base of his esophagus.

Lizzie is irresolute, torn between deciding if she should reciprocate his movements, or merely exiting the bed, since he is obviously uninformed of his own actions.

Before she can determine as to which action to take, she senses the ever-growing stiffness pressing against her stomach. She blushes fiercely, thanking her lucky stars that he is unconscious, otherwise this would be one hell of an embarrassing dilemma in which to be positioned. She is shocked by her own opulent lasciviousness flooding hotly throughout her veins, not in the least repulsed by witnessing that his sexual appetite is alive and well.

Discovering her wiggling is doing nothing but egging him on, she freezes in place, not daring to move, holding her breathe to keep it from dancing across his face.

He persists with his resonant growling, tracing his fingers along her forearm, down to the sides of her midriff, finally resting them on her hips as slips a finger under the waistband of her shorts. She sees him lick his lips, and mumble a phrase that is indistinct to her ears.

Before he can progress any further, Lizzie concludes her decision with a sharp exhale through her nostrils, extracting herself from the sexual tension that she can no longer deny, nor would she want to at this point. She rises from the bed abruptly, shuddering the bed vertically as she gets to her wobbly feet. To her bewilderment, she had not disturbed Red's slumber, if she could even call it such a thing, since he was groping her as if he wanted to take her in this bed here and now.

Tiptoeing to the bland kitchenette, Lizzie leisurely turns the knob to the faucet, grabbing a glass from the dish drainer. Hearing the shuffling of the sheets, she is startled as she turns swiftly, nearly spilling the water ubiquitously onto her and the floor.

"Lizzie, where did you go?"

Swallowing a huge swig of the refreshing liquid, she sets it down on the counter with ease, then whispering dotingly, "Red, I'm just getting some water, go back to sleep, okay?"

"So we're back to 'Red' now?" he mumbles drowsily.

He has his back to her, so she cannot tell if he is actually irritated with her or simply giving her shit per usual. She cannot help but to let out a derisive giggle, "Don't be a grouch, just go back to sleep. We have a few more hours before we have to be up. It's barely 3am."

And with that, Red is faintly snoring again. Lizzie shakes her head in disbelief, assuring herself that he probably will not even recall the short conversation that just occurred.

Picking up the tumbler of water once again, she pads over to his side of the bed to sit it on the rickety nightstand. She extends her hand, grazing his jaw with the backside of her supple fingers. She cannot help but to admire this man in his glorious sleepy state.

Or in any state, for that matter.

How much she honestly loves him is tugging at her heart, beckoning her to resume what he started earlier, regardless of his unawareness.

His beautiful smile, the way he lights up like the sky on the Fourth of July when he sees her every morning, his strong arms, his stunning eyelashes that any woman would envy, his unmistakable bravado, his manner of sneaking and slithering out of any encumbered circumstance effortlessly, his richness for life, and ultimately, the way he looks at her.

The way he protects her from the world, giving her refuge from the storms that threaten to destroy them both.

And the list goes on and on.

Everything about him, she loves. And is in love with, essentially.

That's right; she's in love with Raymond Reddington, and it has taken her this long to figure it out.

Lizzie acknowledges that any kind of physical intimacy between them is too soon. They had just reconciled following elongated months of torment, after all.

But, she is past the point of caring. She wants this man, needs him, desires him, longs for him. Not only in the intimate sense but, also, in her life. She wants to be with him.

Ceaselessly.

Evermore.

Or for as long as life will afford them.

As she stands there peering at his delectable features, she returns to her side of the mattress, raising the blanket just the right amount for her to slink in, being careful not to stir him.

Lizzie comes in such intrepid proximity of Red's face that she lightly brushes against his nose with hers. She is staring at him, intent on watching him sleep until it is time for them to start their day.

As tranquilly as he appears, she honestly does not wish to disturb him, since he needs the rest more than she does. She decides to stay as close to him as possible, while warding off the exhaustion that is quickly catching back up with her. Being close enough to snuggle with him spreads a lovingly tepid warmth in her chest. Discovering she has missed the simple subsistence of another human being's touch and nearness, Lizzie knows she has wanted this to occur between them for a very long time. Her eyelids shut on their own volition, drifting back into a dreamless slumber that she fought so hard to avoid.

A few hours later, Lizzie's eyes pop open with a start. As her heart pulsates like a drummer in a heavy metal band, she is uncertain if her alarm sounded, struggling to turn her head to see the time on her clock that is perched haphazardly on her nightstand. The sickly green numbers read 7:07. Blowing out a meager sigh of relief, she has woken up just eight minutes shy of her alarm.

Glancing back over her shoulder at Red as he remains dozing, the events of the previous night deluge her groggy perception. She shakes her head a few times with a beaming smile rolling the arc of her mouth distinctly, Unbelievable. He sleeps like the dead if he's undisturbed, which is probably not very often, she muses. Knowing she still has a couple of minuscule minutes prior to equipping herself for the lengthy day ahead of them, she slithers back over to the previous position she was lying in front of Red's charmingly handsome face. As Lizzie marvels in the robust broadness of Red's chest, her dirty reflections tempt her to do incredibly kinky things to this man while he is snoozing.

Repudiating the resistance of magnetism she is experiencing and her significant urge for intimacy, she drags her nails down the center of his chest, tugging lightly on his splendidly sexy hairs as she does it. She is trying to rouse him without being overtly annoying, or startling him. The last thing either of them need is for her to induce a damn coronary if he were to unexpectedly wake with Lizzie's mouth clasped down on one of his nipples.

Although enticing as hell, she pushes the notion aside momentarily.

With the side of his head sustained on the pillow with his left arm slid underneath, his eyes move to and fro promptly under his smooth lids. Lizzie knows he is dreaming, but she is about to pull him from whatever fantasies he is a participant in his head, and play their own out in reality.

She props herself upon her right elbow, curiosity becoming her newly found friend. Craning down her neck to position her face vertical to his mouth, she mounts her throbbing mouth over his. Slowly, agonizingly slow, she moves her fleshy damp muscle over his ripe bottom lip, sucking it into her mouth a bit. Then again, applying more pressure this time until she heeds to him inhaling sharply.

Raising his right hand to entangle his fingers in her disheveled auburn hair, Lizzie scoots her bottom half closer, grunting in ecstasy at his arousing reciprocation.

She mashes herself against him from her refined breasts, all the way down to her womanly center. Dipping her left limb under his right that is still entwined in her hair, she grasps her feverous fingers around the firm tissue of his hip.

Red is fully attentive, but uncaring of how or why Lizzie has managed to trip and fall on his face with hers.

He slips his tongue past her teeth, tilting his head to gain more efficient access to the burning desire residing in her mouth. Then suddenly, he becomes meticulously conscious of their actions, and the consequences it could inexorably mean for both of them.

He tugs backward unexpectedly with an echoing smack of their swollen mouths. Their breathing is ragged, chests heaving furiously, the evidence of his arousal making itself considerably known as it pushes firmly against Lizzie's thigh.

Resting his forehead against hers as his lids slide shut, he reluctantly speaks, "Lizzie, what are we doing?"

"What we should have done ages ago." She whispers seductively, her response being nothing short of unforeseen.

Puffing out a dubious laugh, he scales his head back onto his firm pillow, rubbing his face with his palms as if it would erase all of his escalating worries and consternations.

She is glaring at Red expectantly, dragging her fingernails up his happy trail and then resting them over his defined sternum. Lizzie looks at him with such hunger and longing, that he thinks this incredibly sensuous, erratic, stunning, sensitive woman could well be the death of him.

"Lizzie, I know you believe you may have thought this through, but I really don't think you have. Because, if we continue what you have started here, you know as well as I, that there is no turning back from this. Once it's done, it cannot be undone. It will forever be. So, years from now, or even tomorrow, if or when, or . . . both, that you regret becoming physically intimate with me, you will also reflect on the words that I'm expressing to you now."

Lizzie absorbs the not-so-new information Red is expressing, his actual trepidations of what their relationship could potentially become in the end. She also comprehends his approach, his point, but realizes she has played this scenario out incalculable times in her head like a never-ending rolodex, attempting to convince herself that he was not worth risking her career or her life over. But, she knows she was indisputably mistaken every single time.

Rolling over on top of him to straddle his waist with her legs planted on either side of his thighs, Lizzie places a finger over his mouth, "I know what this means. And I know about regret, Red. I know what it's like to want to turn the clock back and do things differently. But this? Me . . . and you? I think I would regret it if we didn't take this path."

Eyeing her somberly, Red retorts, "I don't want to hurt you. I already have, many times. And as much as I want this right now, because my God do I ever, I just need you to know that this moment? It changes everything. Not just the nature of our relationship, but our partnership as well."

"Thanks for stating the obvious."

"I'm quite serious, Lizzie."

"Look, in case you haven't noticed, I'm a grown woman."

"Boy, I'll say. Now, look who's stating the obvious?" Red states smugly, his fierce gaze drifting from the curve of her hips to her breasts peeking from the crest of her red tank top.

Smacking his chest teasingly, Lizzie begins grinding her thighs and hips into Red's stiffness that is pressing against her throbbing lower region, her wetness becoming more apparent by the second. An aching moan of need escapes his mouth, rolling his eyes into the back of his head as the weight of her on his cock begins to drive him mad.

"Lizzie . . . " his voice rumbles like thunder, the affluent huskiness hardening her nipples, goading her to sink down on him harder.

He runs his strong fingers up her velvety legs, splaying his thumbs on either side of the inner thigh showing just below her shorts. As she slides against him again, his grip on her upper legs tighten to command her awareness to him.

Inhaling a resonantly steady breath, Red attempts to make Lizzie understand as their physical and emotional implementations start to outweigh the requisite for the words he must say before he makes stupidly-amazing love to her, "Lizzie, I want you. All of you. I cannot simply have you this once, I forbid it. You are a woman, a queen, who deserves to be cherished every single day, kissed every single day, with your body being worshipped as the sacred temple that it is. Do you see?" Reaching his masculine palm out to grasp her soothingly beneath her jaw line to emphasize his point, he continues, "I cannot and will not be with you just this one occasion. Because you, my dear? Once I have you? I will never forget your taste on my tongue, or the feel of you around me. You, Lizzie, are perfection, and I have never cared for anyone the way I do you. I hope you see that now."

Red lowers his hand from her jaw, running his feverish fingers down her décolletage to stop a mere hair's breadth from where her womanhood resides. His words leave her breathless to say the least, and coupling them with the escalating orgasmic fury inside her nearly catapults her into sumptuous oblivion.

A devilishly, wide smile brightens her face, nodding in response to his admission. She acknowledges that she feels precisely the same as liquid glistens in her sockets a bit. She could never just have this man once, because frankly, it would destroy her if it occurred in such a manner.

Forcefully pulling her down upon him to gain more friction, Red lifts his ass from the bed to thrust into her teasingly, letting out a searing hiss from between his gritted teeth.

Lizzie begins panting heavily, knowing the only thing to taper her furious desire is to have him fill her to the hilt, over and over again. She rocks against him as their movements form a scorching rhythm, both moving up and down roughly to please the other.

But this is not the definition pleasure, not in the eyes of Raymond Reddington. This is only the beginning, and following him stripping Lizzie of her clothing, he plans to fulfill her every fantasy, to lick every tasteful sugary inch of her heavenly body and lap up every last drop of her feminine sweetness.

Being an connoisseur in tantra does not hurt either.

A terrifying thought skips across the forefront of his brain, and he prays that she does not ask too many questions as to why he refuses to remove his shirt. He pushes the thought aside. We will cross that bridge when we get there.

She snatches off the offensive garment covering her upper body, pitching it across the room as she arches her back so Red can get a glorious view of the taut arches of skin affixed on her chest.

He hooks his thumbs under her shorts, stroking over her silk panties, sliding them underneath to feel the moisture there. Tossing her head back in pleasure, her mouth hangs wide from his wandering fingers between her folds, and from the strain of his protruding manhood that already has her on the brink of slipping over the edge.

Red reverberates a primal growl in the base of his throat as he becomes more than eager with Lizzie's teasing, however he is still absorbing every mewl that exits Lizzie's beautiful lips. They are both struggling for each breath, their need for sensual indulgence threatening to dangerously consume them both.

The throbbing in his boxer briefs is agonizing. He cannot stand it any longer.

"Come here." he growls zealously, the rumble of his cadence shooting a ripple of gooseflesh over her stomach and chest.

Lizzie bends downward, capturing his lips with hers. Reflexively, Red turns her over tentatively onto her backside, driving his weight against her, sashaying his meticulous tongue into the depths of her mouth passionately. Lowering his head to her neck, he sucks and licks her all the way down to the upper part of her onyx bra, splaying his mouth in every dip and crevice his orifice could possibly conform to on her delectable torso.

The pulsations of their hearts, coupled with the emphatic vocalization of their moans fill every corner of the room. If Lizzie had not been paying the least bit of attention, she would swear that their pulses were strumming in conformity. As their veins buzzed with exceptional intoxication, the smolder of their physical contact was something neither of them had ever experienced in their entire lives with another lover.

Electrifying.

Euphoric.

Completion.

He traces his fleshy damp muscle around the border, reaching underneath her to unclasp it. Red stops for a brief moment, taking in the sheer elation of her breasts. Humming richly in satisfaction, he draws one of her firm blossoms into his mouth, causing Lizzie to let out a thrilling whine of bliss.

Her hands do a universal waltz from his crown to his shoulders, then his face. She scrapes the back of his scalp with her nails, digging them in enough for him to suck in another fanatical hiss through his teeth. The sensitivity aching in her center is causing her to thrash about, the need for him to be inside her becoming so overpowering that she is seeing stars.

Just as he begins drawing circles on her tight knobs with the tip of his sweltering tongue, Lizzie's cell begins chirping from the bedside table. The whites of her eyes broaden as she halts her hands that are roaming his head, but Red seems unfazed by the shrill noise that is invading possibly the most delightful moment of both their lives. He lets her go with a smack, "Lizzie, shouldn't you get that?"

Bastard.

Smirking as she rolls her eyes gallingly, Lizzie mumbles profanities under her breath as she scoots over to the nightstand, tapping ANSWER on the phone's screen with her thumb. She clears her throat, as if whoever is on the other line will not recognize that she is on the verge of riding Raymond Reddington if she does so.

"Keen."

Red gazes at her lovingly from above, watching as her eyes dance back and forth, not focusing on anything of relevance.

"Liz, it's me. Has Reddington reached out to you about Estevan Gomez yet?"

Shit.

"Yeah, he did last night Ressler. I am about to leave, so I will see you soon."

"You do realize it's almost 8am, right? You know how much Cooper hates it if we're late."

"Oh my God. Okay, we—I'll be there soon." Lizzie replies as she plants a palm over her frazzled face at her slip, nudging her fingers lightly into her brow

Hanging up, Red giggles as he looks into her fraught eyes, raising himself up onto his palms to steady himself over her, "You're late aren't you?"

"Yes. Offfff course."

Red peers down at her tenderly, bending down once again to ravage her with his mouth. His kisses turn into soft loving nips, sucking her lower lip into his mouth ever so carefully. The kind of kisses reserved for couples who love one another without question, obligation or necessity.

"I'm sure Dembe is waiting outside, so I will tell him to bring in my clothes, and you can ride with me to the Post Office." Red says as he removes himself from her space, sitting upright on the edge of the bed.

Launching herself from the mattress, Lizzie digs through the closet for her attire, snatching her shoes as she goes to walk past him to the bathroom. Red shoots his hand out to take her by the wrist easily, "Lizzie, it's alright. I will tell Harold that we had other matters to discuss."

"I don't know if it's such a good idea if we ride together. Keeping up appearances, and all that. We cannot have them even suspecting something is going on between us."

"Lizzie, I am pretty sure that they have been suspecting something other than a professional relationship for a while now. Things have not been the smoothest between us as of late, but you shouldn't worry so much. We will play our respective parts. The agent, and the criminal."

She smirks in frustration at him, blowing air upward from her mouth that sends her hair flying and pointing a finger in his direction. "Okay, well, don't say I didn't warn you. The last thing I need is to get fired and thrown in prison. And to never see you again. That would complete the picture."

His tone becomes calm and reassuring, "Sweetheart, they cannot do a thing without proof or unmistakable suspicion of sexual means. Relax. As long as we act professional, and keep it appropriate, we will be fine, I assure you."

Lizzie snorts, "When are you ever appropriate?"

Red narrows his eyes at first, then his features soften, "Exactly." Winking at her just before she closes the creaky bathroom door. As soon as she is out of sight, Red plops backward onto the bed, shaking his head in disbelief at not just the idea of him and Lizzie's newfound intimacy, but at the fact that they were interrupted. By Donald. I swear to God, that man has the worst timing in every given scenario.

\ \ \ \ \

Lizzie readies herself for their day in the bathroom as Red waves Dembe inside so he can dress in his explicitly-attractive daily attire. After the trio emerges from the motor inn, they head for Red's Mercedes to depart. The minute Lizzie slides in, she scoots to the middle of the seat, not waiting for Red to enter to do so.

As Red hops in and shuts the door, the close proximity clearly excites him as a full smile turns up the corners of his lips while he tilts his head toward her, "Well, this is new, and I must say I very much like the fact that you will be practically sitting in my lap while we are in the car, from now until the end of time."

Grabbing his right hand to extend it over her shoulder, she leans in close against him, burying her face in his neck as she wraps her arms around his middle, dying to straddle him right here and now.

"Pfft. I wouldn't get ahead of yourself, Romeo." Lizzie admonishes as she sniggers sardonically. Red gives her his best pouty face, then angles his head to rest over hers.

After a few moments, Red is unable to withhold his self-control and indulgence of Lizzie being in his arms, craning his mouth to whisper ardently in her ear, "I hope you know that you are staying with me tonight. I fully intend on taking you on every available piece of furniture, exploring every last inch of you."

Red slithers his tongue from the top of her ear, only stopping to suckle on the supple flesh her lobe. Shivering perceptibly, she sucks in a lungful of air as her lids flutter shut, "You have to stop it. We will never make it to the Post Office because I will end up making Dembe pull over on the highway, and then kick him out of the car."

Red giggles in her ear with his face against her hair, the vibrations of his deep tenor sending shockwaves of provocation over the surface of her skin, "Mmm Lizzie, I love the way you think. If that's what you feel should be done. . . "

She pinches his leg sharply, causing Red to let out a yowl that makes Lizzie chortle incessantly."You need to be good. We're almost there."

Red gazes at her, his deep sea green orbs giving her his best, "But do I have to?" appearance.

After coming down a notch or two, Dembe drives them into the city.

As they enter the Post Office, Red immediately decides to clear Lizzie of any wrongdoing for her tardiness as he enters Harold's office unannounced; informing the Assistant Director that they had a few imperative matters to sort through about the case prior to their arrival.

They still have forty-eight hours before Gomez's arrival in the states, so Red and Lizzie, along with the task force, decide to lean on a few of his local associates for more information.

Luckily, Lizzie had ridden with Red all day during their excursion, but keeping their hands to themselves was impractical, and an action neither of them wished to adhere. They exchanged extensive passionate gazes that held promises of continuing what they had started earlier that morning.

Tender, doting nibbles and pecks along with auspicious dialogues of seduction were traded more frequently as darkness fell, neither of them caring since they were both shrouded in the obscure shadows like a secret.

During the course of the day, the sole thoughts filtering throughout Lizzie's mind were surrounding that of the man perched next to her. Of course, where their relationship would go from here was among her mounting list of inquiries, and it was impossible to concentrate with them fondling one another for the past twelve hours. However, the lasting and profound ruminations that have also been flooding her psyche were that of the night of the fire.

Red is unable to inform her of the dreadfully harrowing details that night held twenty-six years ago, but she still needs more to go on. She still requires reassurance as to what role Red truly portrayed that night.

She acknowledges that he was there to aid her and her father, but to what end? And where does the Fulcrum come into play? It is enough to drive a lucid woman past the brink of psychosis, and she knows if she asks him, he will not crack at the mention of said events because of the eminent peril she could face. Her safety is of tremendous magnitude to Red, and she is actually more than grateful to have a man willing to take a bullet for her.

Or every bullet, for that matter.

Her notions are still jumbled as her inner voice bellows like a church bell, swinging her one direction then another. Simply going through that night play by play in her head makes her queasy. She realizes there is only one solution to the issue before her.

Arriving back at the Post Office around 9pm, Red tells Lizzie to go get her things, and he will be here waiting for her. Strolling her way hastily into her dimly-lit office, she eyes the stack of case files lying on her desk. Picking them up, she sets them in her chair with a thump, and grabs the thin folder with the name DR. ORCHARD written on the side tab. Opening it, Lizzie flips to the first remnant of paper that contains everything she requires. Digging out her cell, she snaps it open to dial, anxiously awaiting Dr. Orchard to answer on the other end. Then finally, on the fourth ring, she hears the distinct feminine voice for which she was searching.

"Hello?"

"Dr. Orchard, hi. It's Elizabeth Keen. Look, I know it's late, and your son Max is probably in bed, but this is urgent. I need your assistance."

"Elizabeth? Okay . . . I'm listening."

"I need to meet with you, immediately. Is now a bad time?"

"No, no. It's not. Max is actually with his father out of town with family. Do you want to come here or - ?"

"No I will come to you. Where is your office? Where you operate? I could meet you there instead?"

"Um, it's 363 West Braddock. Elizabeth, what's happened? Something has changed . . . "

Fidgeting with her messenger bag, she tosses it over her shoulder, flipping out the light as she exits her office.

"Yes, things have changed. I will explain when I get there. And don't worry, you will be fully compensated. Thank you so much for doing this. I'll be there in about forty minutes." Before Dr. Orchard has the opportunity to reply, Lizzie hangs up, shoving her phone into her back pocket as she runs to the elevator door.

Emerging from the external door of the task force's headquarters, the sole deliberation disquieting to Lizzie before she reaches the charcoal black Mercedes, is that she has to identify a rational excuse to depart from Red for a few hours, after the intensely historic day they have experienced together. Right now.

P.S. Thank you all so much for your lovely reviews/follows/faves! PLEASE PLEASEEEE REVIEW! Part III will be posted asap! :-D