A/N: This chapter is a gift for my beta thefirstfewchapters, because she has a thing for Red in handcuffs. Hope you enjoy!

The Watchman

Lizzie made her way up to the thirtieth floor of Bally's Las Vegas hotel. They had traced the Blacklister known as The Watchman, an abduction artist who specialized in corporate espionage, based on the information Red had given them in DC. The only thing he had been a wrong about was The Watchman's target. It wasn't Sandra Compton, senior board member of a pharmaceutical giant. It was Red. He had vanished as though he were part of the Penn and Teller show. The task force had spent a week combing the Strip hotels trying to find where the Watchman stashed his captives.

The floor was slated for renovation, so no guests would be booked in the rooms. Construction had not begun yet, so the floor was empty. It was a perfect spot to hide someone for a short time. Lizzie and Samar were clearing the rooms one at a time. Lizzie began in the west hall, Samar in the east. The passkey that she had gotten from the manager would open all the doors. Lizzie's only worry was someone tipping off their target. As she and Samar had left the manager's office, she thought she saw one of the clerks pick up the phone as they had made their way to the elevators.

Room number 3030 was next. She swiped her card and waited for the green light before shoving the door open. Inside, shackled to a chair, and blindfolded sat the Concierge of Crime himself. Lizzie had to take a moment to appreciate the picture of Red. His fedora and linen suit jacket were tossed on the bed, she didn't see his vest anywhere, and his blue pinstripe dress shirt half unbuttoned though somehow still tucked in to his trousers. Only Raymond Reddington could be held hostage for a week, and still look like he could be attending the Kentucky Derby. Lizzie smiled to herself; she had to admit he had style.

Red heard the door open and shut, so he knew someone was in the room. He didn't like the shackles at all, and the blindfold was not his kink. They usually only went to this trouble when he was to be moved, or when his captor arranged his meals. He waited to see which it was to be this time. As abductions went, he thought this one might be in his top five. Smoothly done, without injury, the only trouble was the boredom.

Whoever had come in walked very quietly. Red turned his head, tracked the faint sounds, even though he couldn't see the source. As they came closer though, he detected a faint scent of perfume. Lizzie's perfume. He managed not to smile, but instead licked his lips, waiting for her to unlock the cuffs.

She didn't.

Lizzie watched him carefully, checking him for injury. He seemed perfectly fine and healthy. If she had to tell the truth, she thought he looked rather fetching all chained up, especially with the undone shirt. She could see the mix of crisp light brown hair as it trailed across a surprisingly sculpted chest, narrowing as it continued down his stomach. The longer she looked at him, the warmer the room seemed to become. Lizzie tried to shake the inappropriate thoughts, but just as she brought her mind back to reality, he licked his lips. Her brain took the express elevator to the gutter and she pressed her lips together to avoid making a sound.

"Lizzie." His voice was deep and a little rough.

She pulled off the blindfold but he kept his eyes closed, probably to adjust to the light. Lizzie acted before she could think it over, seizing his face in her hands, brushing her lips over his cheeks, brows, finally his lips. She satisfied the curiosity of months, trying not to watch his mouth when he spoke, blushing bright pink whenever he caught her at it. His mouth was like velvet against hers and she didn't want to ever move again. She straddled his thighs and changed the angle of the kiss, deeper this time, coaxing his lips to open for that first taste. He lingered on her tongue like brandy, warm and rich, with a hint of spice. Lizzie knew she would pay for this somehow, but she was going to make sure it was worth the price.

Lizzie tasted like summer; that was the only thought he could hold onto under her assault. She was honey sweet and he could not get enough of the flavor. She sank down on to him, winding her arms around his shoulders, skimming her nails over the back of his head and moaning when he nibbled her bottom lip. His frustration at the cuffs was tripled, he couldn't touch her like her wanted. So he poured everything into this kiss. Every fantasy, every wish, every time he saved her, and all the times she saved him in return. Love poured out of him like water from a stone, and all he wanted was for Lizzie to feel it, to know that he loved her.

The ring of her cell phone from her jacket pocket was discordant and out of place. Despite his groan of protest, she broke the kiss and pulled the phone out to answer.

"This is Keen."

"We've got The Watchman in custody. Ressler caught him trying to escape from the parking garage. Have you got Reddington?" Samar sounded like she'd run a four-minute mile.

Lizzie looked at Red, still handcuffed, with her still sitting in his lap, looking at her with eyes that promised the world on a string. She smiled at him, giving up the last ghost of resentment, because she knew she was loved and by no one more than this man.

"Yeah, I've got him."

"Okay, we're going to arrange transport, debrief back in DC?"

Lizzie stood and made her way to the door. "Yeah that works. Bye." She ended the call and opened the door.

"Lizzie, if you could just unlock these restraints, I'd be obliged." His voice was somber, maybe even a little anxious. He imagined that she would back off now, regretting her earlier impulse. It had been a perfect moment, so if it was over, if that was what Lizzie needed to do, then he would deal with it with some dignity. He saw her grab the key from the bureau on the way back to him and sighed with relief.

She stood in front of him, with the key and a smirk on her face to rival any that he had ever given her. Without a word, she returned to her former position, balancing her weight across his legs. Bringing her lips within a breath of his, she whispered, "I think I like you in chains…" It felt as though weights had lifted off of his chest as he smiled against her mouth, and they picked up where they left off.

Outside room 3030, a "Do Not Disturb" sign now hung on the door.