A/N Ok so this is where the smangst (smut-angst) portion of the story begins - very NSFW. Liz is slowly spiraling, and the one thing she seems to want is something Red can't bring himself to do. As ever I don't own The Blacklist or the characters that are having a hell of a bad time of it on my dime (figuratively speaking...I still make no money from this). I love reviews, do leave a comment :-)
The next day, Liz entered the kitchen already dressed, to find Red sitting at the counter. "Good morning Lizzie". He handed her a mug of coffee, which she accepted wordlessly, her eyes downcast. She took a sip and then left the kitchen, making her way outside the house to sit on the edge of the deck overlooking the lake. The morning air was fresh, with sunlight glittering on the water. She spent a few minutes in silent reverie before the screen door opened and he joined her, taking a seat next to her. He felt her stiffen slightly, but her gaze was steadfastly set out on the water.
He leaned forward a little, clasping his hands between his knees. "Lizzie I'd like to talk about last night."
She turned her head away to look at a point on the horizon. "There's really no need. I'm sorry I made you uncomfortable."
"Lizzie-"
"Please, it's fine."
"It clearly isn't fine – you're upset. And we may be here for some time. In order for that to work we need to be on the same page."
Liz cradled her coffee mug in her lap, her thumb nervously rubbing her scar. "We are on the same page. I'm extremely grateful for everything you have done for me, I'd hate you to think I wasn't. I understand that you've made significant sacrifices to be here for me. You have your own life and people you'd rather be with…I hope this can be resolved quickly so that I don't take up anymore of your time." She finished stiffly.
Red frowned as he listened to her formal little address to him. "Is that what you think?" he paused. "Lizzie there's nowhere in the world I'd rather be." He reached for her hand but she was already standing and walking back into the house without another word. Red looked out at the lake, observing scoters flapping in the water, their heads bobbing beneath the surface. His concern for Liz was growing exponentially.
Aside from the fact that her feelings were clearly hurt, it was also apparent to him now that she really hadn't accepted the situation she was in. Even assuming that he would eventually expose the cabal and clear her in the murder of the senator, she had killed the attorney general of the United States and there was likely no coming back from that. He just wished she'd tell him why. All he wanted was to help her.
She appeared again a short while later, and walked past him down the wooden steps. "I'm going for a walk."
"Ok. Lizzie?"
"What?" She turned to face him, her chin creased with the effort of holding back her emotions.
"Don't go too far."
She shook her head slowly as though his simple warning had broken her heart. She turned from him wordlessly and took off on the path that led away from the lake into the trees.
BLBLBLBLBLBLBLBLBLBLBL
The sun was low in the sky by the time she returned and Red was growing increasingly nervous. He stood on the decking, his eyes sweeping the treeline around the lake. When he finally saw her figure emerge from the trees in the distance, he pushed off from the wooden railing and stepped back inside the house.
When she returned, she entered round the back through the conservatory and jumped when she heard his voice behind her. "Though I say so myself, you missed a particularly fine lunch." She turned to see him sitting in a wicker chair in the corner, a stack of papers on the table next to him. "Let me fix you something, you must be famished." he continued.
She shrugged. "I'm fine thanks. I think I'll take a bath."
He rose from his chair then and approached her, his tone serious. "So this is how it's going to be? We're back to you barely speaking or eating?"
"You didn't seem to like the alternative" she responded flatly.
He sighed, placing his hands gently on her shoulders before speaking slowly. "This…" he paused. "This isn't about what I would like. I want the best for you sweetheart. That's all I've ever wanted for you." She looked up at him and he moved his hands to cup her face, stroking her cheek with his thumb." "You can be as angry at me as you want, but it's time to stop punishing yourself."
She closed her eyes and he drew her to him then, resting her head on his chest. She smelled of the outdoors, pine and charcoal, and without thinking he kissed the top of her head, breathing her in, his hand moving in little circles on her back. He heard her sigh faintly and came to his senses. He drew back slowly and attempted a cheerful smile. "Now. Let me make you something to eat. I promise you'll like it." She bit her lip and nodded, and they walked to the kitchen together.
BLBLBLBLBLBLBLBLBLBLBL
That night, Red lay awake in bed reflecting restlessly on the day. He hadn't said so, but her prolonged absence had alarmed him considerably. The house was situated within acres of private land, but it wasn't inconceivable that they could be found, or even thwarted by wayward hikers. Retaining security personnel would have been too high a risk, and too high profile. Further to that, there were more mundane dangers to consider – falls in the rocky terrain, and the lake, which while beautiful, was treacherously deep and cold. His failure to protect her in DC had only served to heighten his concern for her safety now. The events of the past 24 hours had highlighted another danger, one to which he had not dared give proper consideration. He drifted off, remembering the scent of the outdoors on her skin and her sigh as he held her. That was the most dangerous thing of all.
The moment the doorknob to his bedroom turned, Red was wide awake. It was a sad reality of life on the run that he had become programmed to be attuned to everything going on around him, even when asleep. More often than not, if it was out of the ordinary he would wake at the quietest noise, performing a mental security assessment of the situation. He slept with his glock under the pillow, but he didn't reach for it. He knew it was most likely to be Lizzie at his door, and sure enough, she crept in, hovering uncertainly at the entrance.
"Come in Lizzie. Is something wrong?" His voice startled her, and he heard her inhale sharply in surprise before responding.
"I can't sleep." Her voice was barely above a whisper.
He raised himself on his elbows, grateful that he had chosen to sleep in a T-Shirt and pajama bottoms. He regarded her as she took several steps towards him, bringing her form into view as she was illuminated by the moonlight from the window. She was wearing a plain black tank top and sleep shorts – nothing more. Keeping his eyes steadfastly at the level of her face he said calmly "would you like me to make you some hot chocolate? I always find it does wonders for me, especially with a healthy slug of brandy mixed in…"
She shook her head. He watched as she approached him, coming to rest perched on the edge of the bed. His pulse quickened; as ever she was full of surprises. He knew she would struggle to come to terms with her new reality, and that she had a rather volatile temperament – he was as prepared as he could be for that. But this…this he had simply not prepared for. He observed her closely as she looked down at her hands, worrying her scar, and then looking back at him, her expression inscrutable. He tilted his head slightly to the side, proffering a silent question as to her intentions.
"Perhaps you're ready to talk then?" He said softly. "Tell me what happened with Connolly?" His voice was low, coaxing. He had to get her to open up about it sooner rather than later, but she sighed. "I don't have anything to say." She licked her lips unconsciously. A moment later he felt her hand slide under the covers and come to rest on his pajama clad thigh, her fingers moving in little, idle circles over the soft cotton. He waited for a beat, watching her like a hawk. She met his gaze then and began to slide her hand slowly up his thigh.
"Lizzie…" he said in a warning tone.
As her hand continued upwards, his breath hitched and he closed his eyes for a second. When he opened them he looked at her face, her eyes dark and lips now slightly parted. Before she reached his groin he took hold of her wrist firmly and removed her hand from under the covers, taking it in his. She squeezed her eyes shut. When she spoke again her voice was almost inaudible. "I'm so numb Red, I can't bear it. It's all so empty. I need…" Although her voice trailed off, he understood completely. "You need to feel" he finished simply. She nodded.
He knew he should send her back to bed – it was the noble thing to do. She was so vulnerable and he couldn't take advantage of that, aside from the multitudes of reasons which made him an unsuitable and unworthy partner for her. But when he thought about sending her away it seemed unconscionable; it would hurt her as much as him to do it. She had no-one but him, and the tempestuous trust they shared was once again hanging in the balance. He looked at her intently for a moment before making a decision. He wasn't going to sleep with her – he wouldn't do that. But he knew how to help her, just enough to make her forget for a moment, to help her sleep.
"Lie down Lizzie". His voice was molten. She did as he asked, allowing him to push her gently down until her head met the covers and she was looking up at him. He sat beside her, propped on one hand, gazing down at her with a soft smile and carefully brushing strands of her hair off her face with his finger, tracing the delicate line of her jaw. She closed her eyes as he brushed his thumb lightly over her lips before sweeping his fingers down the graceful curve of her neck, as if memorizing every detail of her. He stayed there for a moment, running his finger gently across her clavicle, before moving in time with her quickening breathing, ghosting his thumb over one hardened nipple, then the other through the fabric of her top.
She hissed at the sensation; he felt her body quiver slightly beneath him, and it took all he had to resist the urge to strip off her top and look at her, to touch her breasts and take her nipples between his lips. Instead, his hands continued their slow descent, his touch light and tantalizing - almost reverent. As he continued he studied her face closely, watching for her reactions. His hand paused at her waist, and he looked at her, waiting for fear or revulsion to cross her face, but all he saw when she opened her eyes was that they were dark with arousal. He could feel the warmth of her skin through her tank top, and then her hand, placed gently over his, pushing it slowly further down her body.
He didn't deserve to touch her, miserable monster that he had become, not Sam's little girl, not his own sweet little savior. But as she lay beneath him, guiding his hand to where she wanted it, he accepted that she was now a grown woman – a very beautiful woman at that– with her own desires. She had been married for God's sake, he thought. The way she was looking at him now with those enormous blue eyes presented a very real challenge to his self-restraint. She arched her hips slightly upwards towards him in a silent plea for him to give her what she wanted – what she needed.
Watching her face for any sign of doubt and finding none, he allowed his hand to slip slowly inside her shorts, moving down until he was touching her intimately. He breathed in sharply as his finger slid along her opening - she was so wet, so aroused – it was exquisite. Without breaking eye contact he began to explore her there as he had the rest of her body, caressing her gently, lovingly, causing soft little moans to fall from her mouth as he lightly stroked her clit. She began to tremble and he placed his other hand firmly at her waist, holding her in place as he slid first one then two fingers into her, wishing that he could bury himself deep inside her, and knowing that it could never be.
Before long she came in his hand with a cry which she stifled, pressing her lips together, closing her eyes. He bent down and kissed her, not on the mouth, but on her forehead, a loving gesture that was almost chaste despite what had transpired moments earlier. She lay still for a short while, breathing ragged and face flushed, before sitting up and meeting his apprehensive gaze. He waited for her to say something – anything – but she just leaned over to him, her hair lightly brushing his face, and placed a delicate kiss on his cheek. With that she rose and walked out of the room as quietly as she had entered.
He frowned at the door, unsure of the exact nature of what had just passed between them, an uncertainty which quickly gave way to shame that he had not behaved better, that he had allowed her to do something she would surely regret. The moment she had sat beside him on the bed he had become achingly hard in anticipation of something that could surely never happen, and now he wrapped his hand around himself, unable to resist the urge to do so with her essence still on his fingers. It felt inappropriate, desperate even, and he allowed the bitter sting of guilt to bring him to a painful climax.
TBC