The Concierge & The Citadel

by RosalieReddington

"There are few that understand love and loss more than I..." Raymond Reddington once had a relatively normal life. A wife, a child, a few good friends. Fate was unkind when it took those he loved. Now, as he faces death row, fate returns a familiar face that will bring memories, joy, and love back to Red's life. Pre-Blacklist Years. (Mostly) Cannon Compliant.

27. Firsts

Le Bourget Airport - Paris, France - December 22nd, 1999

Fifteen days.

It had been fifteen long, lonely days since Raymond and Dembe had left for Kosovo.

After the mess the KLA and NATO left behind in their most recent conflict with the Serbs, there was a fortune to be made in the crumbled remnants of what was once the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia.

A highly sought after copper mine Red had been pursuing since August had finally come to market, calling the fugitive to the war-torn city. The deal had been sketchy at best; the selling parties and the broker had been forced to go to ground several times over the past three months as the continued animosity between the Serbs and the Albanians left Kosovo tantamount to an open war zone well after the conflict was declared finished.

Knowing the level of danger involved with this particular acquisition, Raymond had opted he and Dembe go alone.

Rosalie took the time to finalize the last round of expansions within her network, personally overseeing the final preparations for the three remaining locales in Santiago, Canouan, and Chicago. She stopped to visit her mother, giving Teddy a much deserved break as she made the familiar voyage back to the Northern Hemisphere, laying low in the states for a couple of days before returning to Paris for a long weekend with the Armels.

As was her custom leading up to the holidays, Rosalie took Marietta for three days to pamper her and shop the length of Rue Saint Honoré. The pair had enjoyed the trip immensely, spending their last day together at one of the most exclusive spas in the Parisian underground before finishing with afternoon tea at Ladureé, where they leisurely discussed the events of the upcoming week.

The Armels typically spent their days at their sprawling estate on Corsica; however, when the opportunity presented itself, the boss and first lady of the Corsican mafia thoroughly enjoyed hosting friends and associates at their château in Céret. Raymond and Dembe would be joining them this year for Christmas in the south of France, an event both Marietta and Rosalie had been quietly looking forward to for weeks.

The latter had waited until her companion was boarding his flight to Kosovo before nervously asking if he and Dembe had plans for the holidays. When he answered in the negative, Rosalie immediately followed with a blurted invitation to spend the holidays with her at the Armel estate.

The hastily uttered invite had set off a chain reaction, turning most of Rosalie's face a soft pink and forcing her eyes to the jet's plush carpet, which just amused the hell out of Red.

This was their first major holiday as a couple, and both fugitives were rather unaccustomed to navigating such pedestrian waters. Organized crime was the pair's bailiwick, not family holidays. Though, as Rosalie pointed out, how normal could a Christmas with the French mob really be?

Dembe had readily accepted the invitation, grinning when his friend's face lit with a radiant smile. Raymond, on the other hand, had taken great enjoyment out of making her squirm for several long seconds before confirming he too would be there with bells on.

Early afternoon arrived quickly in the eighth arrondissement, and the women soon parted for Le Bourget, one boarding her jet while the other waited patiently for her companions to arrive.

Excitement welled up in Rosalie ten minutes later, threatening to spill over at the sight of a familiar Gulfstream touching down on the tarmac.

Raymond could be seen peering out of the window beside his usual seat, a pair of gold sunglasses shielding his eyes.

The two waved cheerily to one another while the bird taxied off the runway.

Inside the cabin, Red couldn't help but stare at his bundled up companion. Rosalie looked stunning in an oxblood wool trench, her long hair freshly coiffed from a day at the spa with Marietta. She beamed a brilliant smile just for him from her place beside a glinting black Rolls Royce.

The automobile was a tad ostentatious, but its appearance had precious little to do with Rosalie's personal preferences and everything to do with her connection to Florian Armel. The old mobster always had the bulletproof tank of a vehicle waiting at the base of Red's plane when they landed in France. Rosalie's relationship with the Armels made her a natural target for a variety of enemies, thus Florian never failed to provide his adopted daughter and her companions with a rolling safety net whenever they were in the country.

Raymond flashed a boyish grin when he descended the steps, a blur of blonde and burgundy leaping into his arms the moment he reached the ground.

He felt her slip his hat from his pate, replacing the warm felt with gentle fingertips threading through his short hair.

"I missed the hell out of you, Raymond Reddington."

A warm chuckle erupted from Red's chest, his arms wrapping instinctively around the little bundle and squeezing until she let out a delighted sigh, her lips a hair's breadth from his own.

"Little dove, you have no idea..."

They kissed for the first time in weeks, chaste at first, working in tandem to kindle that white-hot passion which ignited so easily between them.

Rosalie nibbled his bottom lip, coaxing a moan to his throat as she swirled her nails in languid circles along his scalp.

Raymond responded in kind, reaching to cup her cheek and demand entrance to that delicate mouth.

His companion relented with a husky whine of approval, her tongue tangling happily with his.

Kissing her dizzy, Red set her back on the ground, hands smoothing over her shapely figure while they caught their breath.

Rosalie peeked around his shoulder, blinking dazedly at the sight of his jet taxiing back down the runway. "Wait, where's Dembe?"

"He's running an errand for me in London," Raymond explained, tucking a curl behind her ear. "Edward's going to pick him up and we'll meet them on the jet tomorrow for the flight to Céret."

Rosalie pensively stroked the dark fabric of his scarf, "So...I've got you all to myself tonight?"

Red laughed and ushered her toward the car. "That you do. I also have a little surprise in store." He held out his hand, silently requesting the car keys.

"Oh?" Rosalie's head tilted in question, but her companion wasn't letting on to what his plans were.

Raymond opened the passenger door for her, "I told you it's a surprise. After you, my dear."

Rosalie patted his cheek and dropped the keys into his outstretched palm before sliding into the vehicle's warm interior.

Raymond slid into the driver's seat and tore out of the airport moments later and made directly for the Place des Voges.

4th Arrondissement - Paris, France

Tiny flecks of ice and rain had just begun to pelt the windshield when Red made the turn into an underground carpark.

"This isn't my safehouse…" Rosalie took in the dark surroundings with a surge of curiosity.

"No, it's not." Red deftly removed his tie, knotted the item in a loose loop, and reached to slip it over his companion's eyes.

Rosalie allowed the action for but one glance of suspicious amusement.

Once her eyes were covered, Raymond exited the car, hoisting their bags from the trunk and gingerly leading his companion from the passenger seat.

They steadily made their way into the base of the building, where Rosalie heard the opening and closing of a heavy door followed by the sliding of what sounded like a metal gate.

The floor began to vibrate beneath their feet, alerting her to the fact they were in an elevator.

She felt the stubble of Raymond's chin tickle her skin as he kissed her cheeks, the curvature of her jaw, the very tip of her nose, tormenting her with just how close he could get to her lips without making contact.

Rosalie shivered in his grasp, searching blindly for his affection.

"Who'd have thought you'd get this hot and bothered over a little blindfold?" His tone was impish, his warm breath fanning over her cheek.

Rosalie pouted, feeling him skirt his lips away from hers once more as the elevator jolted to a halt. "You're a cruel tease, Raymond Reddington."

The man in question could be heard laughing quietly to himself. A set of keys jingled before being slid into a heavy lock and flipping the tumblers within. He slowly guided them into the next room, setting their belongings aside before closing and locking the door once more.

"Perhaps you'll let me make it up to you."

Rosalie felt his broad frame press against her back, warm palms smoothing along the front of her coat to slip the dark buttons from their place. The heavy trench slid easily from her shoulders, revealing an impeccably soft cashmere dress Red hadn't seen since their week in Norway.

"Oh hello there," he crooned, dropping his mouth to her exposed clavicle. "I've been wondering when I would see this little number again."

Rosalie giggled, her hand slipping up to card through the short hairs at the back of his neck, keeping him close. "I thought you might enjoy a repeat performance, though I'm afraid the weather's too poor for another al fresco romp amongst the wildflowers."

A dark chuckle hummed from his lips to her nape, sending a fresh rush of goosebumps down her frame. Raymond halted when his nose brushed the soft skin beneath her earlobe, catching an unrecognized scent lingering there.

"Mmm...Is that new?"

Rosalie nodded, leaning into his nuzzling. "I've been wanting to try something different. Marietta and I stopped at that lovely little parfumerie you recommended."

"Frédéric outdid himself on this one..." Red circled the tip of his nose lazily along the warm expanse of her neck, thoroughly enjoying the act of inundating himself with the new bouquet which blended so beautifully against her skin.

He kissed her cheek and finally slipped the silk tie from its perch, watching on pins and needles while Rosalie's dark eyes fluttered open, slowly adjusting to the change in light.

They were in a stone entryway of what appeared to be an apartment. A long, slender hallway stretched before them, leading toward what looked to be main living space.

Rosalie stepped cautiously forward, her gaze immediately drawn to a number of black and white photographs lining the walls of the wainscoting-clad hall. The pictures were a mix of old and new, a man in military dress stood beside a snapshot of Raymond and Vinny Gigante, a polaroid of a young girl hung next to what looked like an old family portrait, which hung next to a familiar photo of a blonde woman and a little girl in a swing. Raymond beamed back at her from a handful of frames alongside other familiar faces. Kate, Stratos, even Baz smiled from one. Dembe featured in his fair share, even his graduation photo hung prominently amongst the bunch.

The woman halted when she came upon the last two photos, both containing her and Raymond, and only one of which she remembered being taken.

The photo on the right hand side of the hallway was of Rosalie nestled happily between Red and Dembe in front of an ornate yurt in Kathmandu. The sight brought a bright smile to her lips, recalling that day with overwhelming fondness. The photo's compatriot across the hall, however, made her eyes water with recognition.

She reached out to run her fingertips along the frame of a black and white photo showing Raymond and Rosalie dancing on the roof of her New York safehouse, bundled up to ward off the cold, a lone firework illuminating the background.

Red watched her with unguarded affection as she recognized what happened shortly after that photo was taken. "Dembe managed to sneak back out to the veranda," he murmured, "He thought we might like to remember that night."

Rosalie nodded, staring at the photograph for a long moment before reaching for Raymond's hand.

He took it and gently nudged her further into the home, practically bouncing with excitement.

The historic apartment sprawled before them in either direction. An inviting glow shone out of an antique chandelier dangling from the weathered, wood beam ceiling, showering the home in a golden glimmer. The hallway lead directly into a sumptuous open sitting room where a plush sofa and two luxurious armchairs sat perpendicular to a pale stone fireplace. A lively fire crackled in the hearth, filling the home with warmth. The wide planked wood floors all bore intricately detailed Persian carpets, one lengthy runner leading down the opposite hall to an immaculate chef's kitchen.

"I know I mentioned L'Ambroisie and Caveau de la Huchette for tonight," Raymond's voice dropped to a low, intimate rumble against her ear, "but it's the holidays, both venues are going to be packed, incredibly noisy...and I find myself unwilling to share you with anyone. I thought we could enjoy a quiet night at my pied-à-terre instead?"

Rosalie turned to gawk at him, "This is your place?"

He nodded, observing the space with obvious fondness. "We're on the top floor of the Hôtel du Pavillon du Rois, overlooking the Place des Voges. I purchased this apartment and the one next to it three years ago, took out the walls separating them and created this; a hidden haven." He pointed to the massive windows slanting up to the soaring ceilings more than twenty feet above them. "You can't see it now because it's sleeting, but there's usually an ocean of sunlight pouring just through there. It's truly exquisite."

"Raymond, I..." Rosalie turned in a slow circle, taking in the width and breadth of the beautiful old home.

A heavy crystal vase stood on a nearby table, bursting with a beautiful floral arrangement. The mantels all held lush swaths of evergreen garland with stunning white roses and crimson berries nestled amongst their fronds. The windowsills were capped on either end with tall cylinder candles, their flames casting a flickering ambient light here and there. The space was a beautiful, cozy paradise.

Red chewed the inside of his cheek, "If you'd rather we stayed at your safehouse, we can certainly-"

She whipped around, her expression perfectly bereft. "What? No! Are you kidding? Ray, I love it."

"You do?" He couldn't help the audible note of pleasant surprise which colored the question. "I actually have a handful of personal hideaways all over the globe. Your baroque townhouse in the 6th arrondissement is truthfully magnificent...we're a couple, and couples occasionally stay over at one another's abodes. I thought it might be nice for us to stay at mine for once."

Rosalie beamed up at him, stepping into his sphere and wrapping herself around his torso. "You're asking me to stay over at your place."

He continued to explain himself, the words tumbling out without poise. "Yes. Well- What I mean to say," Raymond blanched at his lack of decorum. He really had planned for this to be a scant more eloquent. "You and I so rarely get to enjoy the peaceful simplicity of our relationship. I thought it would be great fun to have a night where we could be like every other couple. A candle-lit dinner, a few good records, a roaring fire, the twinkling lights of Paris in the windows… I even had a tree brought up we can decorate if you wish-"

The grin on Rosalie's lips widened further, a lone fingertip coming to rest against Red's lips, ceasing his rambling. "I love it. Nobody's ever done something like this for me. Ever. It's a very sweet, very thoughtful idea, Raymond."

The man's taut posture relaxed visibly at her words, exceptionally pleased she was receptive to the idea.

Her finger drifted from his lips to his chin, down to his chest, flicking open the top button of his shirt. She held him in a burning gaze as two more buttons were wriggled loose. "A tree, hmm? So, you're inviting me to stay over and deck your halls?"

Raymond sniggered, using his index finger to tug the neat bow holding her dress closed, blazing green eyes drifting hungrily along her figure as it was bared to him. "Something like that…"

The pair were soon stumbling toward the bedroom, mouths preoccupied, hands tearing garments asunder, leaving a river of silk, wool, and cashmere scattered in their wake.

Red watched with heated intrigue as Rosalie crawled onto the plush expanse of the master suite's massive bed upon their arrival, the soft ivory sheets contrasting beautifully with her honeyed curls as she arched tantalizingly, allowing his eyes to wander.

"Is this what you had in mind when you planned this little getaway? " She purred, the sound laced with mischief and lust. Slender digits trailed up her sternum to circle the beautiful swell of her breasts for his viewing pleasure.

Raymond's response was deep and graveled enough to soak the little slip of lace covering her sex. "My plan is to leave you knock-kneed and spent, little dove"

The brazen retort silenced any further displays of bravado from his companion, her sweet little face tilting upward with equal parts excitement and trepidation, knowing full well he would more than deliver on such a promise.

Rosalie lifted herself from the bed's surface, moving to kneel at its edge, directly in front of Red. Her arms draped themselves around his neck, presenting her willing body to his touch.

A deep moan of desire assured the woman her lover was just as eager to be with her as she was to be with him. Soft lips murmured the truth against the curve where her neck and shoulders met. Rough, masculine hands trailed down her back to knead her hips, leading her to Raymond's way of thinking.

Her own hands roamed the expanse of his back and shoulders with relish, leaving no part of the man untouched. Rosalie loved having him back in her arms, feeling his broad chest pillowed against her breasts and coaxing all manner of pleasurable sounds from his throat.

Without warning, his hands dropped to the backs of her knees, tipping Rosalie onto her back with a surprised squeak. Red grinned when she crossed her legs in the air, impishly attempting to deny him access. Much to her delight, he was undeterred, proceeding to nestle his pelvis intimately against hers, the hard bulge beneath his boxers pressing insistently against her core.

Raymond kissed his way down her legs, impossibly silky smooth after her day at the spa. He turned his head and nipped playfully at the slender ankles which now rested on his shoulders.

His companion giggled and sighed, trying to wriggle away from his wandering mouth.

Red chuckled, ghosting fingertips along her hips and the backs of her thighs and yanking her flush with him once more. "I missed hearing that little laugh, having you wrapped around me, feeling your warmth." His fingertips slipped beneath the delicate lace of her panties, guiding the tiny scrap of fabric around the ample curve of her backside then up, up the long line of her legs before flicking it carelessly across the room, leaving Rosalie blissfully nude beneath him.

Her eyes softened as he continued his slow perusal of her person, his touch utterly reverent in its gentle caress.

She had missed him terribly.

The way Raymond made love to her was something Rosalie deeply cherished, something which she had longed for the moment he left for Kosovo. Even more than their physical compatibility, Rosalie had missed his companionship; the bond they had been painstakingly building moment by moment for over a year. The very foundation of their life together was built on that bond. Not being able to physically feel its presence for two weeks had been rather heartbreaking, truth be told.

Her hands moved to mingle with his, stroking the burly length of his forearms before threading her fingers through his. She wondered if he had felt the same aching loss in her absence.

"I need you little dove," Red confessed in a heated whisper, "I'd forgotten just how lonely this life can be."

Rosalie brought his hand to her cheek, turning to kiss his palm while his other hand dipped to tease the apex of her thighs.

"I hated traveling separately, let's-Oh," her breath caught as he found a particularly sensitive spot, circling it deftly until her back arched off of the bed. "Let's not make this whole separate countries thing a habit."

A deep rumble of amusement vibrated against the backs of her legs where they rested against his chest. "My God, I love it when I get your breath to hitch like that."

Rosalie kissed the pad of his thumb as it brushed soothingly along the corner of her mouth, "Raymond, I ache for you."

A throaty growl flowed from the man's chest when she took the digit between full, rosy lips, applying just enough suction to drive him out of his mind.

"You are a persuasive little thing," he conceded, pushing his boxers down to free his rigid length.

Rosalie mewed and reached to caress the thick appendage with fond fingers. She smiled at the guttural hiss which escaped her companion at her stroking, his hips rocking into her outstretched hand.

Red pulled away from her teasing, his arousal demanding he submit to his body's dictates. He moved to the nightstand to grab the necessary prophylactic, tearing the foil square open quick as a flash.

Rosalie grumbled her dissension, quietly wishing he would just forget the damn thing. "You know, we could just forgo that little trinket."

"Oh?" Raymond's voice dropped so low she thought the sound might shatter the nearby windows. "We're prepared for such an eventuality?"

"We're covered." The reply came as a desperate little mew, one Raymond dearly wished he could believe.

"Bring those lovely legs back up here, little dove."

Rosalie readily complied, returning to the position they were in before.

"That's it, rest your ankles on my shoulders, just like that." He purred, taking himself in hand.

Rosalie felt the hardened tip of his cock brush teasingly against her center, coaxing a rush of wetness from her core. The velvety soft warmth of his member dragged the length of her slit, taunting her with what she wanted most.

"This is something we should discuss at another time." Red cursed his weakness, eyes fixed upon his exquisite pastime. A more carnal corner of his mind screamed at him to shut up and give her exactly what she was aching for.

"Why?" Rosalie whispered in a tremulous shiver, her every nerve ending preoccupied with what her body felt.

"Because such decisions shouldn't be made in the throes of passion." The statement was pained, even to Red's ears, as thought he were trying to convince himself just as much as his companion.

A delighted shiver wracked his frame when Rosalie dipped her pelvis. The petal soft lips of her sex cradled the very tip of his member, pointedly directing him toward her desires. "Can you tell me you haven't been wondering? You're shivering, love. I doubt you could utter your name without moaning."

Another ripple of pleasure tore along Red's nerves, pulling a rough snarl from his mouth. "Rosalie, if you can tell me there isn't so much as a drop of uncertainty on your part, I will not hesitate to bury myself in this sweet little honeypot until my name is the only word you can utter."

Rosalie ceased her needy writhing, looking up at him with a deer in the headlights expression.

Raymond watched the stark black of her pupils dilate further, but a drop of trepidation remained in her flushed features. He reached forward and brushed her cheek with a comforting thumb. "Exactly. With such an act comes a certain level of expectation; an understanding of where you and I are in our relationship. When we cross that threshold I need to know you want it as badly as I do. I need you to be absolutely certain, Rosalie. Dammit, I want you to need, to crave such intimacy with me. There's nothing wrong with taking the time to consider precisely what it is you're asking for before you tell me to proceed."

She growled her discontent when he retreated a fraction and slid the condom into place.

"We have all the time in the world to take that leap, Rosalie."

Any protest she had was silenced when Raymond made good on his word, burying his throbbing length deep inside her in one long stroke. The slick heat pooling between her thighs made the action smooth as silk. Red groaned as Rosalie fluttered around him, her inner walls working frantically to accommodate his girth.

A long, drawn out cry escaped Rosalie, the sudden sensation of being filled too full making her skin prickle and her toes curl. "Oh...my..."

"Too much?" He smirked, placing another kiss to her ankles. He damn well knew the answer.

Rosalie could only moan in response as the thick rod inside her moved, retreating with Red's hips before surging forward to fill the tight space again.

Red established a slow, steady rhythm, allowing his partner to feel every inch of his shaft gliding along her entrance. He gasped at the sensations washing over him, overpowering all other thought as the tight, loving cradle of her heat massaged his cock without end. His hands continued to roam the length of her legs, caressing and kneading here and there.

"I saw your eyes," he intoned, "I felt just how hot and wet you became at the mere thought of my bare cock pleasuring this impossibly tight, terribly sensitive," she bucked into his thrust, sending a shiver of pleasure tearing along his nerves and making him groan piteously, "perfect pussy."

Rosalie whimpered her involvement, trying to voice how deeply she desired what he was describing.

"You would come so easily, so hard with my shaft thrusting inside you without a thing between us." Red knelt onto the mattress, cupping Rosalie's bottom and shifting them both further up the bed. He pitched forward, bringing her legs closer to her chest and rolled his hips in a fluid momentum. He grinned when her eyes fluttered closed, the action accompanied by her body gripping him, the tight tunnel wrapped snugly around him twitching and convulsing its need, toying with an agonizing edge.

"You like the sound of that, don't you, little dove. Let me hear you."

"Y-Yes," her little features lifted in supplication, silently pleading for relief. "Please, please, give me more."

Raymond readily complied. His powerful frame overtook Rosalie's, pressing her thighs flush with her chest and continuing his unwavering pace.

The hardened crown of his cock found her g-spot with unfair precision, insistently hitting that sweet spot with each thrust. The new angle made Rosalie's body buckle in pleasure, but wedged as she was between Red and the mattress, there was nowhere for her to escape the onslaught of ecstasy encroaching upon her with each delicious push and pull.

Raymond was finally close enough to reach his lover's lips. Bracketing her head with his forearms, he leaned in and connected their mouths in a searing, passionate kiss. His fingers threaded through her long hair, holding her to his pleasure. The action soothed their feverish need just a bit more, slowing Red's possession of Rosalie's body to a gentler tempo. His lips followed the flushed arc of her cheekbones, trickling down the angle of her jaw to her neck and along her clavicle before kissing her again. He nipped at her bottom lip, urging Rosalie to open to him, needing to taste the sweetness of her mouth.

She did so without hesitation, relinquishing control to his wicked tongue. Her hands cupped his face, deepening the kiss further, a sigh vibrating from her lips to his.

They needed such intimacy. After two weeks of nothing more than phone calls, the pair were ravenous for the physical bond they shared. It had been several months since they had spent any time apart, and both fugitives found they had not enjoyed the interlude one bit. Time to oneself was relaxing in moderation, but fifteen days of precious little contact had left them both feeling rather bereft.

Red felt Rosalie's nails scratching the base of his spine, sending frissons of pleasure up and down his back.

"You're so deep." She whimpered her growing need, the coil inside her buckling with a painful tension. Her hands sprawled against the sheets, clutching the bed's surface for purchase. "Ray- right there..."

Red could physically feel each tremor shaking the little ankles resting on his shoulders, the action bringing a self-assured smile to his lips. The man couldn't help a surge of masculine pride at bringing her to such a state. His warm hands reached out to knead her breasts, occasionally tweaking and rolling her tight pink nipple to ease the ache behind each peak, eliciting a chorus of tortured moans from Rosalie.

Her climax bore down on her without preamble, sending Rosalie hurtling over the edge cry as she clung to Raymond for stability.

"There." He cooed, finally feeling that sweet little valley grip him like a vice, the warm slickness of her release bathing his shaft. His lover's body pleaded for more, arching into his movements like a needy kitten.

Raymond snuck his thumb between Rosalie's thighs, stroking her clit in time with his continued thrusts to draw out her orgasm. Each circle of his thumb produced a pulse of pleasure within her, sending aftershocks sporadically clutching at the turgid length massaging her core.

Peeling those trembling limbs apart, Red brought their bodies flush together, gathering his lover tenderly into his arms and thrusting impossibly deep once more.

"Oh God I missed you" Rosalie cried out when he buried himself to the hilt, kissing her cervix with the head of his cock. Her oversensitive walls could only quiver feebly around him, helpless to the waves of ecstasy still crashing over her. She returned his embrace, cradling him to her, relishing in the way his mouth traversed the sensitive curve of her neck to nip at those spots which gave her goosebumps.

"I love the way you give in to me," he panted in her ear, "You come undone so sweetly around my cock."

Rosalie gave a shivered mew, lifting to capture his lips in a heated kiss.

Red groaned his pleasure and lowered his mouth to her breast, flicking his tongue over the tight little peak he found there. Soft, feminine hands gripped his shoulders, clawing at him in unbridled pleasure when he suckled at her nipple.

The pair shifted, leaving Rosalie perched atop Raymond, her hips undulating at a steady clip to drive his shaft deeper still.

"That's it," he praised, working in tandem with her movements to bring them closer and closer to that mind-bending euphoria. "Take it. Ride my cock and come for me again."

"Raymond..." Rosalie buckled under the command, clutching at his chest and skirting her fingertips through the downy hair there.

Red gripped her hips and pulled her down into his upward momentum.

Both lovers groaned when they found just the right angle, their movements perfectly in tandem. It took only four more thrusts for Rosalie to be pushed into euphoria once more.

A rush of panting and a throaty whimper signaled her imminent release, the sounds trembling down to Red's ears from Rosalie's perch atop his cock.

The silky walls of her sex collapsed once more around him, tight as a vice and so perfectly wet. Red snarled when he felt one small, feminine hand reach behind her to fondle his testicles. That little exploration compounded with the feeling of his lover's body trying like hell to draw his length deeper, the dual sensations bringing him hurtling toward an excruciating edge.

"God, yes..." Raymond couldn't help a ragged moan of approval at the incentive when she snuck a finger to tease the spot directly behind the bundle in her hand. He rolled them once more, giving him the leverage needed to thrust into her with abandon, chasing that peak which threatened to swallow him whole.

Rosalie whispered softly in his ear, sweet little nothings and filthy little murmurings flowing from her honeyed voice, seeming to travel the length of his shaft, resonating in the very tip of his member. Cradling his head to the crook of her neck, she smoothed warm hands up and down the expanse of his back, occasionally dragging her nails just how he liked, coaxing him to give himself over to the powerful orgasm overtaking his body. The muscles in his frame shuddered their relief when his cock pulsed erratically within her soaking depths, a guttural moan rumbling against the warm hollow.

Raymond could only give in to the love she gave, knowing now that it was love which existed between them; though they had not yet given it a name. It was her love which he craved more than anything else. The knowledge that she would be there, at the end of a long, grueling day mired in the filth of humanity. Whenever Red walked into the safehouse, Rosalie was right there, warm, gentle, understanding...

Rosalie somehow made it all well worth it.

She turned and kissed his cheek repeatedly, quieting his racing pulse with her affection. Their lust-blown eyes met and held, a profound feeling of adoration lingering in the space between them.

It was Raymond who broke the silence first, leaning to kiss his companion before whispering against her lips.

"I missed you, my little dove."

An hour later found both fugitives in the home's impressive kitchen with a bottle of wine. Rosalie was openly admiring the collection of copper cookware while Red set about making dinner. What little sun there was had set and the home was alight with a warm glow and the steady pitter-patter of sleet against the tall windows.

Raymond was a dab hand in the kitchen, chopping vegetables in neat, uniform pieces with practiced ease. He tossed the assortment into a stockpot, which held a bubbling mixture of tomatoes and lobster stock. He had just pulled out a tray laden with all manner of seafood when his companion let out a tinkling laugh.

"Raymond Reddington, the Concierge of Crime...making bouillabaisse in his boxer briefs. Whatever would the FBI think if they discovered one of their most wanted was into such blatant domesticity?"

"I don't expect the feds to appreciate the finer nuances of my criminal mentality," came his reply, his manner perfectly unconcerned, "They would be baffled to find out I'm doing nothing more than wooing an illustrious female felon."

Rosalie's nose wrinkled playfully. "Hmm...I bet she's too young for you."

"Well, I heard she's too old for my bodyguard, so I thought I'd try my luck." Red quipped, a little tetchy for the perceived slight to his age.

Rosalie bit her bottom lip, trying not to laugh. "Ah touché." She slid from her seat and reached on her tiptoes to place a kiss at his jawline. "Personally, I think you're a fine vintage, love."

"I do plan on aging like a nice single malt." He preened under the compliment, his palm landing a gentle but reprimanding swat to the curve of her backside when she turned to leave. "The older I get the more you'll find I'm the only devil you'll want in your playground."

A sultry giggle tumbled unrestrainedly from her lips, "Let me know when you're down for another game of Red roverthere, fella, and I'll show you just how much fun my playground can be." A saucy little swish of her hips and a devilish wink was all Raymond received as his companion went about exploring the apartment further.

Twenty minutes later, and Rosalie had decided she positively adored the abode. It was centuries old if the structure's support beams were anything to go by. Yet, instead of feeling musty and decrepit, the home felt like a lovingly restored time capsule. Tapestries and oil paintings, sketches and bronzes...artwork in a wide variety of mediums occupied every wall and available table. Ornate walnut and mahogany furniture from varying eras occupied the home's rooms, showcasing glistening antiques from the Queen Anne era to the Louis XVI years alongside specialty pieces from the Victorian and Art Deco eras. Every room held a perfectly cohesive hodgepodge of decades culminating in a beautiful, eclectic collection which just beckoned the occupants to enjoy the space's comfort.

What truly stole Rosalie's heart was the small library tucked in the back corner of the apartment. The room's ceiling soared upward to meet another set of colossal windows overlooking the Place des Voges, on any normal day, warm sunlight would cast a lovely golden hue over the sumptuous room. A pair of dark leather armchairs sat side by side, a heavy mahogany desk occupied the far end closest to the windows. Like the rest of the home, there was an ornate Persian carpet underfoot, and a variety of intriguing souvenirs from the man's travels displayed meticulously here and there.

A fortune's worth of books lined the walls, and where there weren't books there were records, and where the shelves ran out of space, the collection dispersed to little tables, metal carts, wooden crates, and the occasional foot stool. It was the kind of space Rosalie would expect a man like Raymond to have.

Looking upward, she recognized a ledge toward the top of the windows. It was the floor where Raymond's bedroom was. Rosalie couldn't help but grin at the open space before her smile suddenly fell.

Raymond's bedroom.

Rosalie's insides squirmed, recalling her earlier behavior. A voice in the back of her mind chastised her for being so brazen. What she had said was entirely too personal. She had all but informed the man she would quite like him to ride her bare, please and thank you ever so much.

The woman pinched the bridge of her nose, shaking her head ruefully.

What on earth had gotten into her?

An indignant snort left her mouth as her lewd mind readily reminded her who had gotten into her. The mental quip made her laugh and sigh with exasperation all in the same breath.

Rosalie had never once made love with a man without a condom, but she would be outright lying if she said she wasn't dying to try it. None of her past lovers, in her mind, had been up to the task. To make love unprotected, it was something to be cherished, a fairly large step in a relationship.

It was a rather daunting gesture, now she stopped to think about it.

At least, from her perspective, it meant a certain level of commitment, of exclusivity. Rosalie realized with no small amount of nervousness, she and Raymond had never explicitly discussed the parameters of their relationship. She had just assumed... Certainly they were exclusive by now, were they not?

If so, wasn't this an avenue they could one day explore?

Raymond was honest, trustworthy, and caring. Rosalie could easily see herself sharing something so very intimate with him.

The woman frowned as she realized her brashness may have just shot down any chance of that happening.

What was she thinking?

More importantly, what did her lover think?

Had she come off uncouth?

Rosalie supposed if Raymond had been truly appalled by her gaffe, they wouldn't have made love. He would have been honest, he would have said something, surely.

Wouldn't he?

Turning to the bar cart beside the desk, Rosalie noticed a brand new bottle of Himbrimi gin waiting for her. A tiny smile pulled at her lips and she made herself a stiff drink and continued to contemplate her counterpart. She was too busy attempting to shut out the feelings of awkwardness writhing about in her stomach to hear the man approach.

"You've found the inner sanctum, I see."

Rosalie turned to see her companion leaning in the door way, an indulgent smile on his face. He was clad in only a button down and his boxers, the dark apron he had been wearing was returned to its hook in the kitchen.

"I'm sorry...Should I not be in here? I just wanted to see the rest-" She quickly moved to leave the room.

Red lifted a lazy hand to the opposite door frame, blocking her retreat. "No corner of this apartment is closed to you, my dear. I simply had a feeling I would find you in this particular room, considering your fondness for books and bookshelves."

Rosalie made no answer.

Raymond seemed to understand from the set of her shoulders, her comment earlier was weighing heavily on her mind. He held out the soft cashmere robe she liked to wear when the weather was cold. "Can we discuss what happened upstairs?"

Rosalie wrapped herself in the comforting garment with a look of gratitude.

Red's eyes softened, seeing the tightness in her shoulders lessen minutely once she was surrounded by the soft material, its hem skirting her mid-thigh.

She turned into his sphere, nibbling her bottom lip nervously, "I didn't mean to give you the impression you had t-"

"What did you mean by 'we're covered'?" he redirected, reaching to tuck a curl behind her ear.

His voice was warm and soothing, green eyes holding her in a predatory stare tinted with a captivating glint of something Rosalie couldn't quite name. He moved closer to her, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her close.

"I- Well," she began a halting explanation, suddenly feeling a hair shy, "I have, um...I have an IUD. Being a criminal who needs to keep a low profile, it just makes sense for a woman in my position to have a long term option in place." She winced at having to be so blunt, but couldn't think of another way to explain herself.

"Okay," Red nodded, perfectly undaunted, though a small smile threatened to overtake him. "So we're covered on the pregnancy front. We've long since had the discussion about previous partners, health and well-being and all that... So all that remains is intent."

"Are we monogamous?"

Rosalie's cheeks burned with embarrassment at the hastily blurted question.

Raymond's eyebrows shot to his hairline, "I was under that impression, yes. Do you perhaps feel differently on the matter?" His expression was carefully guarded, almost impossible to read. Almost.

His companion caught the minute twitch of his eye, a telltale sign of the man's displeasure. "No, no," she assured, "I realized I just assumed we were exclusive without asking...I don't share romantic partners."

Red valiantly fought the wide grin tugging at his lips.

Rosalie realized her gaffe, "I mean, not that you're mine to share, it's just...Oh, stop looking at me like that!" She knew she was stammering rather ineloquently, but he needn't laugh at her.

Raymond was still grinning like a Cheshire cat, his other hand reaching out to sneak its way around her waist. "I am yours, little dove, and I won't be shared. Just as I won't share you, because you're mine."

She leaned into his hold and nodded her head, undeniably pleased by his response.

Roughened fingertips gently grasped her chin, lifting her face so Red could see her eyes. "Make no mistake, Rosalie, this is something I very much want."

"You- You do?" She couldn't help the hopeful tinge to her voice.

Raymond turned to seat himself in one of the room's leather armchairs, leisurely pulling his companion into his lap. "Making love with nothing between us is a level of intimacy which takes a certain amount of trust and intent to even consider. I know you and I are right at the threshold of such a place." He cupped her face in his palm, a lone thumb stroking her cheek in a soothing manner.

Rosalie burrowed into his arms with a sigh of relief, "So my big mouth hasn't put you off to the idea?"

He chuckled, "Quite the contrary. Rosalie, you've managed to genuinely surprise me. You aroused the hell out of me and made me excited for what the near future has in store for us. You could never put me off to such an intimate gesture. I merely needed to make absolutely certain you truly wanted such intimacy before proceeding."

"I do want that," she whispered, placing her hand to his chest, "I do crave such intimacy with you, and you alone. Not just when we're in bed together, either. I've felt it for months now, and never more acutely than the day you left for Kosovo."

Red listened intently, watching her features without so much as a blink while she confessed her desires.

"You were gone, for two weeks and in that time I was forcibly reminded of what it was like before you and I were on the run together." Her dark eyes shone with their sincerity, recalling the long nights spent tossing and turning, unable to sleep. The safehouses were ungodly quiet in his and Dembe's absence, the only sound cutting the silence had been Rosalie's mind whirring in the background, wondering if they were alright. "It was as though the sky cleared and all I could see was how much I loved what we have."

The pair sat in pointed silence, Rosalie curled up against Raymond's shoulder, Raymond resting his cheek against the crown of Rosalie's head.

"Then we are in agreement. I won't question such a request from you again." His tone was a warning one, turning to brush the tip of his nose against her temple.

Undaunted, Rosalie shifted to drape her arms around his neck, pulling him close and dropping a smattering of gentle kisses against his mouth.

"Promise."

Red smiled against her lips, "Oh, I promise."

The scent of bouillabaisse wafted from the home's kitchen, finally luring the two from their secluded corner of the apartment.

Rosalie beamed at the sight of the round kitchen table covered in crisp linens, a pair of slender candles waiting patiently to be lit. Hors-d'oeuvres of oysters on the half shell were placed alongside a glass bowl of beluga caviar nestled in ice, crisp little toast points waiting on a plate nearby. A small bowl of classic rouille waited to top their stew along with thick slices of fresh baguette which rested on a small platter beside a beautifully ornate tureen.

A large wineglass carrying a robust Chateaux Cheval Blanc was eased into her hand by a smiling Raymond Reddington, who proceeded to light the candles and kick on the record player before pulling out her chair.

"I'm usually better dressed for a date," he conceded, peering down at his boxers and giving a shrug. His hair was sticking up here and there, and the top buttons of his shirt were left open to bare a small swath of his chest, but Rosalie found the look rather endearing.

She spared a glance for her own attire, then patted the seat next to her with a smile. "I think we look fabulous."

The longing for closer proximity remained, thus Red took the seat directly beside his companion, his knee brushing against Rosalie's any time one of them moved. She didn't mind, actually she seemed to take great enjoyment out of playing footsie with him beneath the table.

A bottle of wine later and another already decanting, the couple spent most of the dinner comparing bouillabaisse recipes.

Raymond's rendition had been painstakingly revised over a period of years, altering the foundations of the broth and tweaking the fish and shellfish used until it was just perfect. The concoction within the tureen was heavy with langoustines and prawns, mussels and little neck clams, sea bass and perch, even a few delicate little sea scallops made it into the mix.

"The trick is the saffron," Rosalie could be heard saying, giving her companion a knowing look.

Red pressed his napkin to his lips, his head sing-songing back and forth. "The saffron is one of the tricky bits. The real challenge is finding the rascasse, that hideous red scorpionfish that's damn near impossible to find outside of certain markets."

"You even got the rouille right, color me impressed."

He accepted the praise with a satisfied smile, "I take it I've met the expectations of your traditional French palate?"

"There are few things sexier than a man who can cook," Rosalie vowed, guiding her last spoonful of bouillabaisse to her lips.

"I'll keep that bit of intel in mind the next time I plan on wooing you into bed." Raymond topped off his glass of wine

Rosalie laughed, kissed his cheek and stood to begin clearing the table. "Darling, you had me long before you even started the bouillabaisse."

When the woman turned around, she saw Raymond lifting a large box from the closet and carrying it into the sitting room. The sight was soon followed by a swift music change, an upbeat holiday record echoing from the stereo.

In the sitting room, Red carefully set the box he was carrying in a nearby armchair and changed the records over. He stoked the fire and rubbed his hands together, eager to get started.

He couldn't deny he had been looking forward to engaging in these silly old traditions with his companion. Even when he was a young boy, he had looked forward to the prospect of such normalcy, when it was his home, decorated how he liked, with someone special to share it with.

Raymond popped the box's lid, gently lifting six smaller boxes and a spool of beaded garland from the mix. A neatly coiled string of lights and a folded tree skirt followed, their removal unearthing an item which Red hadn't seen in years.

He lifted the large velvet-covered box and set it gingerly on the nearby coffee table. Slipping the cover from its resting place, Red smiled to see the old music box's face still shone in the warm light. Its inlay was still beautifully intact despite the many years it had been since it was built. The item's key was still nestled in its confines, which Raymond opened to turn the switch.

Rosalie watched from the kitchen doorway as he opened the box with a certain kind of reverence, revealing a row of little brass bells and the long cylinder which had the box's tune imprinted on it. A familiar song came ringing from within.

"Oh Raymond, it's beautiful."

Raymond beamed and waved her over to him, gathering her to his side on the sofa. "An old heirloom," he murmured, listening to the tinkling tune. "You know, one of my mother's most favorite songs was 'The Anniversary Waltz.' She used to hum it when we were kids. Folding the laundry, cooking dinner, darning my father's socks... Mom loved that song."

Rosalie watched his gaze grow distant, his brow creased deep in thought. "Your parents, are they still-?" She hesitated, realizing what she was asking could hit too close to home.

"I've always found Christmas to be the best time of year." He redirected with ease, "The weather's cold, but the houses are warm. The whole world seems to glow with goodness and light. Even those hardest to please typically find something to be benevolent about." The man could only think of his father, utterly impossible to please, yet even he would be a little less critical, less confrontational, during the holidays. This resulted in some of the most peaceful days in Red's childhood.

"You're right," Rosalie rested her head on his shoulder and listened to the bells' tinkling song, "It is a lovely time of year."

They sat in silence until the tune was finished, Rosalie's hand cradled in Red's, his thumb brushing back and forth across her fingers. As the last bell struck, he gave his companion a gentle squeeze and closed the box's lid. "I think it's time we got to decorating, my dear."

The pair made for the slender fir tree nestled in the room's corner. They started with the lights, plugging the strand into the wall near the base of the tree before passing the bundle around and around, ensuring they managed an even coating. After that, they draped long strands of gold beaded garland, making pretty loops every few inches all they way up to the very top.

Raymond opened the assortment of smaller boxes to reveal a variety of ornaments. Some were made of mercury glass, others were painted wood. There were delicate spindles and smooth, shining spheres, even a 60's-era cosmonaut ornament made it into the bunch.

Rosalie lifted one of the wood ornaments by the little gold ribbon attached to it, admiring the intricate, hand-painted design on the egg-shaped bauble. It was obvious the ornaments were decades old, some of them positively antiques. "I take it these are heirlooms as well? They're incredibly ornate." She hung the egg at eye level and proceeded to carefully disperse its companions throughout the tree.

Red nodded, setting another couple ornaments amongst the hanging boughs. "Everything in that box," he pointed to the armchair where the now-empty container sat, "came from my family."

He returned to the ornaments, his voice casual. "The tree skirt was embroidered by my mother and grandmother. The ornaments were from her side of the family as well. The garland-"

His mind forcefully recalled a little head of soft brown curls and dazzling blue eyes, a pair of tiny hands laying the glimmering spool in his upturned palms, a child's voice softly whispering to him that it was a gift.

"-and the star, that was from my father's side of the family."

He lifted a spindly red star from one of the boxes and handed it to Rosalie. The object's five points spanned the width of both her hands, the nearby glow of the fireplace made it flash ruby red in the low light.

Raymond bent without a word, arms wrapping tightly about Rosalie's upper thighs and lifting her bodily into the air.

She giggled from her perch, grasping one of Red's shoulders to stabilize herself as she reached for the top of the tree. Even with his added height, she could just barely wiggle the star in place.

Once the topper was straight, Raymond relaxed his arms, allowing his companion to slide ever so slowly down the front of his person. He waggled his eyebrows when they came eye to eye, her little face alight with amusement.

Rosalie turned to admire their handiwork, "It truly is a lovely tree, darling."

Red set her feet back down onto the plush carpet, nodding. "A first. Our first Christmas tree."

She laughed and patted his chest with obvious fondness, "Have I mentioned how adorable I find your enjoyment of all this?"

"I've been looking forward to this," Raymond admitted, "Having someone with whom to do these sorts of things...I've longed for such simplicity. Bringing you here is something I've been planning for a long while now."

Rosalie carded her fingertips gently through his hair, "When was the last time you had someone here?"

"I haven't." Raymond stated, perfectly unabashed. "You're the only person I've ever brought to this apartment."

The statement held a wealth of meaning which did not go unrecognized by either party.

Red made it a point not to look away when Rosalie's astonished gaze fell upon him.

"You weren't just asking me to stay the night, were you?"

He shook his head, "No."

Rosalie exhaled a shaky breath, her hands moving to rest on his shoulders.

"I'm asking you to keep a toothbrush in the ensuite." Raymond's expression turned to one of deepest fondness, "I'm asking you to take the opposite side of the master closet for your own and fill it with clothes, shoes, and other personal effects. I'm asking to give you a key to the apartment and a code for the garage. I'm asking that every time you and I are in this city, alone or together, we call this apartment home."

Rosalie took a moment to gather herself, realizing what this meant. "You're asking me to move in with you."

"As much as can be managed for a pair of criminals on the move every two days." Red agreed with a chuckle, plucking an ornament from the tree which she had missed entirely. It was an old-fashioned brass key, an emerald ribbon looped through its handle.

"What do you think, Rosalie?"

The cheeky smirk which wrinkled her nose amused and delighted Raymond to no end.

She stooped to pick up a large roll of red velvet ribbon and placed it in his hands. She exchanged the spool for the key he held, grasping it in her hand and holding the cold metal to her chest. "I think we're not quite done decking our halls, darling."

After finishing their holiday shenanigans, which involved a large wreath in each of the home's towering windows, a few well-placed sprigs of mistletoe in certain door frames, and two fugitives slow dancing together in the halls, the house's sole occupants sat curled up together in the comfort of the sitting room.

Raymond lounged in a corner of the plush sofa with Rosalie tucked securely against his side. They relaxed and digested for an hour or two, admiring their handiwork and reminiscing on some of their more amusing adventures while they polished off another bottle of wine.

They were getting a hair tipsy at this point. Rather than becoming more boisterous, the space between them grew more and more intimate, their words whispered in hushed murmurs as they regaled the favored tales which made their spirits soar.

As the clock struck midnight, Red had his companion snuggled up beside him, his lips brushing the shell of her ear as he told her the story of how he had acquired his Parisian abode.

"So there I was, in this ridiculous Santa Claus outfit-"

Rosalie tittered and lowered her hand to draw little circles on his knee, "You're so full of it. I doubt you've ever been in a Santa Claus costume."

Raymond made a disappointed tutting noise, "Now, now. This is my story, mademoiselle, and I'll embellish it how I like."

"I consider any tale that involves you wearing polyester to be a horribly fabricated falsehood." Her mischief-laden quip only seemed to spur the man on, making him squawk and scoff in varying degrees of mock outrage.

He seemed appeased when Rosalie held her hands up in defeat and leaned to rest her head against his once more. "As I was saying, it was a frigid day in the fourth arrondissement and my Santa getup left a bit to be desired. It certainly wasn't a custom fit ..."

The woman listened amusedly to the ever-evolving tale, which she was now certain was completely made up. All the same, her companion had a method of storytelling which captivated and thrilled his audience, even when there wasn't an ounce of truth to what he said. Rosalie was certain he would eventually tell her the truth behind his procurement of the apartment, and looked forward to that eventuality. Until then she was content to listen to him inventing wild and completely unrealistic fiction.

Before he could spin into the next yarn, however, she decided dessert was in order.

"There's something decadent from the bakery downstairs, it's waiting on the kitchen counter." Raymond grunted, reluctantly relinquishing his hold on her and moving to change the records on the stereo.

Rosalie made her way into the kitchen, eyeing the beautifully prepared tart beneath a pristine glass cloche. The confection was laden with neatly cut figs, each glistening with golden drizzles of honey and flecks of cardamom. She removed the glass covering with a flourish and cut a generous slice for the two of them to share. Striding back into the room, she found her companion back in his seat, one arm stretched along the back of the sofa, creating a welcoming nook for her to settle into.

"None for the likes of me?" He teased, swirling yet another glass of wine in his opposite hand.

Rosalie grinned and took her place beside him, "Share your wine and I might give you a bite."

Red chuckled, holding the large slice of tart with a covetous glance. "That hardly seems fair."

She countered with a waggle of her slender brows, "A sip of wine for a little something sweet? I think that's a fair price, darling."

Her companion shook his head emphatically, "You want me to choose between a perfectly delectable Chateaux Margaux and my sweet tooth. That's almost cruel, little dove."

Rosalie gave a mocking pout of commiseration, popping a fig into her mouth.

"Minx." He chastised, dropping a hand to poke her in the ribs, causing her to giggle around her bite of tart.

Rosalie squirmed away from his tickling, which only drove her deeper into the man's hold. In a matter of seconds, she was squeezed flush to his side, barely able to breathe, let alone wrangle her fork back to the dessert plate. "Alright, alright," she temporarily conceded defeat, "How about a story? I'll share my tart with you if you tell me how you got that stolen Van Gogh on the wall in the library. The Poppy Flowers is supposedly hanging in the Mohamed Mahmoud Khalil Museum. You aren't the type to buy a fake, even if it is a very convincing one, so I'm convinced you managed to acquire the original. How did you get it?"

Raymond let out a barking laugh, rather intrigued by her astute observations. He held hhis hand out for her to shake, agreeing to the deal.

A pregnant silence hung between them as Rosalie waited for him to start.

It was only when the man cleared his throat that she realized he wasn't saying a word without a little incentive.

Her eyes flitted up to his, batting coyly.

"I want a taste before I dive into the tale." He inclined his head toward the dessert, tapping patient fingertips on the back of the couch.

Rosalie cut a piece with her fork, lifting the morsel and slowly bringing it to her own lips, which quirked upward into a mischievous smile as she placed the bite on her tongue.

Red prodded the inside of his cheek with his own tongue, his eyes narrowing for her impishness. "You know, I ought t-"

The dessert plate was set aside as Rosalie slid a leg over his hips, settling herself in his lap. Her hands smoothed up his chest to cradle his face in warm palms, guiding his mouth to hers.

Raymond grunted when her lips captured his own, the petal softness melding instantly to him, deepening the contact without another thought. Rosalie's warm little tongue swiped at his bottom lip, seeking entrance. He allowed it, opening to her exploration with a soft moan. Red tasted honey, cardamom and a hint of fig when she entered his mouth, her tongue stroking and massaging every sensitive corner of him until he was clutching at her hips with both hands.

Rosalie released him with a mew, her nose nuzzling back and forth against his.

"What was that for?" He asked, his voice a heated, bottomless growl.

"You asked..." Rosalie placed another chaste kiss to his lips, "for a taste."

Red could feel her smile against his lips, thoroughly pleased with her display of irreverent wit. He found the action terribly amusing, sending a roguish chuckle rumbling darkly through his chest. "Oh, you are a handful, aren't you? Cheeky little thing."

Their dessert was completely forgotten, a far more enticing craving needing tending to.

The following morning saw Raymond and Rosalie leisurely curled up together in the master suite's enormous bed, the night's activities leaving them in a tousled sea of soft, warm cotton.

Raymond inhaled deeply, his nose buried in the gentle slope of Rosalie's neck, taking in the delicate bouquet of scents which resided there. Her new perfume, his aftershave, the honeyed euphoria of sex and the dark allure of rekindling desire…they all beckoned him closer, coaxing him to gather his lover more tightly to him.

Rosalie hummed at the sensation of his lips and nose brushing along her collarbone, making her pulse skyrocket. She wriggled backward, silently requesting to be kept snug against him.

Red happily complied, wrapping himself more tightly around her. "Bonjour, ma petite colombe." His warm breath tickled her ear, making her squirm pleasantly.

"Good morning," her drowsy voice tittered from the warm nook that was his arms, "Please tell me it's not time to go already."

"It's not," he assured, leaning on his elbow to better observe the steady rise and fall of her chest. His hand smoothed along the dip of her waist and over the crest of her hip, outlining her silhouette with relish.

They had a few hours yet before they needed to meet Dembe at the plane, and the two had formed an unspoken agreement that they would be spending as much of that time as they could curled up in bed.

It was going to be an incredibly busy day once they left the apartment for Céret.

The Armels were hosting their annual holiday dinner party for a few close allies and associates that evening. This meant the château would be bursting with people and the house's three newcomers would be in dinner dress and dealing with some of the European underground's key players a few short hours after their arrival.

Personally, Raymond was looking forward to the shindig.

There were few things he enjoyed more than a good party. Knowing Florian, there would be excellent food and libations, music, dancing, the works. As far as guests, the players with whom Florian associated were top tier, so the conversations would be far from dull. The old mobster's reputation also ensured guests would remain civil while under his roof. The Armel Château was fabled as an absolute fortress, and one of the safest places in all of France. It was going to be a nice change for he and Rosalie to be able to let their hair down, so to speak, and blow off steam with some of the more civilized members of their criminal brethren.

However, the party was not the only exciting event happening that day.

Unrelated to their evening plans was the final expansion within Rosalie's network which was rolling out that very morning. The last three penthouses had in fact opened four hours prior to their waking.

Though she hadn't yet mentioned it to Raymond, Rosalie was quietly breathing a sigh of relief at the knowledge her network was once again complete and functioning. She hadn't received a single problematic call in the past twenty-four hours.

Unbeknownst to Rosalie, her companion was already well aware of the good news.

Red shifted behind her, stretching to pull something from his nightstand before encircling her in his arms once more. "Don't panic," he insisted, slipping a small leather jewelry box into her palm.

Rosalie's breath couldn't help but come to a sputtering halt as her eyes took in the cobalt-colored box with its striking gold band, the ornate emblem of the custom jewelry house from which it came glinting on its side.

No, no, no, no, no.

"Raymond, tell me this isn't..."

The man in question felt the entirety of his lover's frame stiffen in his grasp, the sensation making him laugh heartily. "I said don't panic, it's not at all what you think."

Rosalie made to move, her heart pounding frantically in her chest. "This isn't necessary, really-"

He pulled her back into his embrace, nestling his cheek against hers and reaching out to cup both her hand and the little box in his outstretched palm.

"Relax, love."

He ran a comforting hand through her tousled hair, smirking when the action eased a soft sigh from her lips. He took that moment to flip the box's lid, showcasing the stunning ring inside.

"Raymond…"

Rosalie was at a loss for words, the magnificent solitaire nestled in stark black velvet was unlike anything she had ever seen before.

The cushion cut stone was a deep, turbulent green with the faintest hint of blue. It was nestled in a quietly ornate platinum band which looked to be an antique.

Raymond slipped the delicate jewel from its box and held it up in the slip of bright morning light beginning to filter through the windows, watching in intrigue as the gem's colors glinted and shone.

"It's a gift." He allowed the word to sink in, waiting for her panic to subside and her body to relax before continuing. "The setting is Edwardian platinum, the filigree on the sides of the band is laurel."

Rosalie peered curiously at the etching in the metal as he held it close for her to see. The intricate detail of each little leaf adorning the band was stunning.

"Dating back to antiquity, wreaths of bay laurel have been attributed to many people of power and influence. Olympians are still given laurel wreaths in honor of the Greek god Apollo, Julius Caesar was awarded one for valor in the wars of Asia Minor, Napoleon Bonaparte even chose the laurel wreath as both his crown and a symbol of his empire. For millennia, the laurel wreath has been an emblem of wealth and success; victory in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds."

He slid the jewel onto the middle finger of her right hand, admiring the setting in its rightful place. "I promised you by the end of the year you'd have your feet back under you, and as of…" he turned and lifted his watch from the nightstand, "four hours ago, every safehouse, penthouse, and blacksite in your network has become fully operational." Red set the watch back on his nightstand, knocking twice on the wood's polished surface before scooping her into his arms once more. "I daresay that's cause to celebrate."

Rosalie turned to face him, "How did you know?"

Raymond grinned as his fingertips moved to trail teasing circles along her spine, his explanation simple. "Teddy."

She laughed, "You've had my own security keeping tabs on me?"

He shrugged and brought her to his chest, falling comfortably back amongst the pillows. "I've had your security keeping me appraised of your pacing, so I would know when the expansions were complete and you could finally breathe again."

Rosalie's lips parted in a soft 'o', just then realizing how far her empire had come in the past year and a half, and how much of her health and well-being during that transition was owed to her companion. She held out her hand and eyed the beautiful gem glimmering there.

"Raymond, this is far too much. You've already given me a key to your apartment, this is-"

"That's completely unrelated. What's a life-changing success without something to mark the occasion?" Raymond insisted, his tone utterly indulgent, "You've created something incredible, Rosalie. You deserve to feel proud of such a success. I know I'm-"

He halted with a purse of his lips, wondering if perhaps he was being a tad too forthcoming.

"What?" Rosalie asked, turning to hold his gaze with her own.

Red gave a non-committal shrug, "I'm terribly proud of you, my dear."

He meant it. The pride he felt upon hearing all the hard work of the past six months was coming to a close that morning had made his insides burn with a fierce approval. All Raymond could think about for days was their fateful meeting back in Hong Kong which had set all of this in motion. He had been immensely pleased by the intellect Rosalie had displayed, her poise and as she danced the verbal tango of their negotiations. Rosalie was a rare, singularly formidable creature the likes of which Red had not and would not encounter again.

Raymond wanted her to be able to bask in that achievement, to enjoy just how far she'd come.

Rosalie watched the range of emotions pass across his face, usually so careful and guarded. For once, he seemed laid bare before her.

"That means a great deal to me, Raymond." The woman reached to cup his cheek, stroking the stubble there with her thumb. "I owe a great deal of that success to you. I sincerely doubt I would have made it through this unscathed had you not been there to guide me to the other side. Thank you, for everything."

She kissed his lips in thanks, her body melding readily into his embrace.

Red grinned when she released him, her dark eyes bright with delight as she stared at the ring once more.

"It's gorgeous, Raymond. I don't think I've ever seen an emerald like this."

"Ah, well, that's because it's not an emerald."

Rosalie beamed at the boyish excitement which lit Raymond's features as he delved into the story of his unique find.

"If you recall, we made a stop in Romania last June?"

She nodded at the memory.

"Well, while we were there, an associate of mine made mention of a new mine opening at the northern edge of the Czech Republic. The venture was going to be a bottomless money pit, I wanted nothing to do with it, and told him as much. However, the broker for the mine was so hell-bent on convincing me it was going to be a boon, he cornered me in that dicey little bar we went to on the outskirts of Bucharest."

Rosalie scowled, "Oh I remember that hole in the wall. Horace kept beating me at repezita...the dirty cheat."

Red snorted with laughter, "Indeed. Well, the mine the broker was peddling was for Grandidierite. Now, grandidierite is admittedly one of the most valuable gemstones in the world, but the stone's exclusivity throws the economics completely out of balance. There will never be enough supply to even generate the level of demand needed to mine for grandidierite alone"

"Why?" Rosalie asked, peering at the stone with ever-increasing fondness, curious how such a beautiful thing couldn't be in demand.

"Most grandidierite unearthed is not gem quality. More than ninety percent of the stones found are opaque, a scant handful of the remaining ten percent is viable for cutting. Many are found to be too fragile, even more so are too transparent to be of any value." He cradled her hand in his, observing the light glinting off the stone, "The gem's value is in its rarity. There are less than ten cut stones of this clarity In the world, none of which share this stone's particular hue. Its color is incredibly deep, with just a hint of blue. There's not another one like it in the world."

He was pleased to see his companion's cheeks flush with pleasure.

"How did you find it?"

Raymond settled amongst the pillows with a grin, lacing his fingers behind his head and stretching luxuriously. "Well, as it turns out, the clear stones the broker was touting as evidence for the mine's prosperity were not at all from the Czech Republic."

Rosalie leaned back, truthfully rather impressed. "How on earth did you know that?"

"I didn't. Dembe apparently took a gemology course a while back, and he quietly informed me the mineral content of the region was not capable of producing the gemstones the broker was displaying."

Her laugh bounced merrily off of the tall ceiling, "Oh he is a clever one, that Dembe Zuma. Where, pray tell, did the stones actually hail from?"

"Madagascar. We unearthed the truth over the course of a few weeks. The eight or so clear stones in existence all came from the same deposit on the island's southern edge. Armed with such knowledge, I went to the broker to discuss the upending of his criminal enterprise. Oddly enough, he was quite motivated to keep me quiet."

Rosalie's mouth fell open with an adorable pop, "Raymond Reddington, you didn't."

"Didn't...what?" He asked, his features a picture perfect mask of innocence.

"Oh, you did!" Her hand swatted his chest in chastisement, knowing better than to believe him innocent of any skullduggery.

"I haven't the foggiest idea what you could possibly be referring to." Red insisted, biting back a huge grin, "I simply played my part. There was a nasty band of ne'er-do-wells peddling falsehoods and I stepped in, saving myself and my allies a bundle in the process. A noble deed if there ever was one."

A deafening silence fell between them for the space of three whole seconds before they both started laughing, collapsing into one another in their merriment.

Rosalie lifted her head, her eyes dancing with mirth, and rested her chin on Red's sternum. "You blackmailed him, didn't you?"

Raymond heaved a forlorn sigh, "Here I thought I was a man of mystery. Tell me, my dear, is the thrill already gone?"

"Tell me everything, you big bad felon," she teased, turning to drape her naked body over his, "I'll let you know how much of a thrill it's been once you've given up the goods."

A full, rumbling laugh poured from Red's throat as he settled back into the tale, wrapping an arm around the feminine silhouette which covered him.

"I was just going to warn the poor fellow of his imminent bankruptcy, having more than a couple dear friends in his investor's pool. However, when I went to meet him he had a number of stones resting in a glass case. The beauty which now occupies your right hand sat dead center, and I knew I had to have it. Gifting me the stone was a mere drop in the bucket, I considered it as payment for giving him a head start against the level of financial ruin he had coming his way. After we left, I took the stone and had it appraised by a world class gemologist in London who owed me a favor; don't ask, it was years ago and involved a very aggressive python, I'm not particularly fond of the story..."

Rosalie's tinkling laugh could be heard from his chest, utterly delighted by the notion.

"Anyway, the gemologist confirmed what I had sent was indeed one of the eight gems mined in Madagascar. Upon receiving said intel, I had the stone sent to a custom jewelry house here in Paris to be set. I had considered a necklace initially, but then I remembered an old tradition involving women and right-hand rings."

"The prohibition era." Rosalie nodded knowingly from her perch atop his person.

Red's visage brightened considerably, holding her right palm to his chest and feeling the cool strip of the ring's band against his skin."Yes. The tradition of the right-hand ring dates back to the 1920's cocktail ring. For the first time in American history, women had entered the workforce, wore pants, and even drank in the speakeasies alongside men. Cocktail rings were usually purchased by the women themselves as a symbol of their new-found earning power. As the decades have gone by, the meaning of those rings has remained roughly the same, showcasing a woman's prowess at attaining her own wealth and success. I find it a lovely little ode to tradition as well as a playful nod to the nature of our world in particular."

Rosalie's smile was radiant as she peered down at her companion, her fingertips dancing through the soft down of his chest hair. "A blackmailed stone in a centuries old setting...It's perfect," she whispered, lifting one of his hands to her lips so she could kiss her way along his palm. "Thank you Raymond, for everything."

Raymond grasped the back of her neck and brought her mouth to his, claiming her lips in a deep, sensual kiss which negated the need for any further response. Everything they felt, every word they wished to express was poured into the gesture, bringing them back to the foundation of their life together and fortifying the connection once more.

It was noon and their bags were packed, but Rosalie was nowhere to be found.

Raymond brought the last of his belongings to the entryway, then walked the length of the apartment, having an inkling of an idea where he might find his companion.

As he expected, Rosalie was seated in an armchair in the library, watching the cold winter sun pour through the windows as she fidgeted with her ring.

"Are you sure we have to leave?" She gave a heavy sigh, looking wistfully around the beautiful room.

Raymond smiled, his hands tucking themselves leisurely in his pockets. "You enjoyed our time here?"

She stood and brushed a bead of moisture from the corner of her eye, "Raymond, it was wonderful. You gave us a night to simply be a couple, to do all those seemingly insignificant little traditions which so often get robbed from us. In less than twenty-four hours this place has given me memories I will deeply cherish."

"I'm glad." He murmured, reaching out to hold her, "I was hoping you would be as enamored with our new place as I am."

Rosalie buried her face in his shoulder, a perfect picture of shy delight, "I love it here. I can't wait to come back."

Le Bourget Airport - Paris, France - December 23rd, 1999

Raymond's Gulfstream was waiting for them as they pulled up in the tank that was Rosalie's Rolls Royce.

The woman in question leapt out of the vehicle once it was in park and scurried to close the distance between herself and Dembe, who was waiting patiently at the bottom of the plane's stairs.

"Two weeks is entirely too long!" Raymond heard her declare, kissing Dembe's cheeks and squeezing him fondly. "You look like you've lost a little weight, sweetheart."

She turned accusing eyes toward Raymond, "Did you not feed him while I was away?"

Dembe's expression turned instantly serious, a hand reaching to pat his flat stomach in mock despair. "He didn't feed me at all. I am wasting away."

Red looked mildly put out, "We went out every night! He had all kinds of vegetarian Serbian cuisine from dozens of fine restaurants."

Rosalie frowned critically, looking over the younger man once more. "Hmm...I don't think Dembe would lie to me. Poor thing, we brought you a box full of pastries and cut fruit. I'll make a batch of lemon kolaches once we get to the house."

Dembe's smile was positively dazzling as he hugged his friend, glancing over Rosalie's shoulder to direct the rascally grin at Raymond. "Only lemon ones?"

Rosalie was blissfully unaware of her companion's mischievous expression. "Of course sweetheart, whatever you like."

Red rolled his eyes and shooed them both onto the plane, shaking his head for his lot in life.

The plane taxied and Rosalie was still fussing over Dembe, much to the younger man's enjoyment.

Thus, Raymond was surprised when his companion leaned over the back of his chair to squeeze his shoulders and whisper in his ear. "I picked up a smaller version of that fig tart while we were at the bakery, I know you didn't actually get a bite last night, what with every going on..."

A playful giggle could be heard before she kissed his cheek then sauntered off to make herself a coffee and catch up with Red's flight attendant.

Dembe was grinning knowingly at his compatriot. "Chaumet outdid themselves with the ring. I take it Rosalie approved?"

Raymond gave a deeply satisfied nod, "She absolutely loved it. You were right, that color suits her perfectly."

The Armel Estate- Céret, France

The flight took less than forty minutes, touching down on the private airstrip just north of the Armel's abode. Another beast of a Rolls Royce waited patiently for them, the cars driver waving cheerily to the group as they disembarked the jet.

Dembe took the passenger's seat while Raymond and Rosalie occupied the back.

The former watched in undisguised amusement as Rosalie became more and more nervous. She practically vibrated when they turned down a quiet gravel lane lined with towering oak trees. She fidgeted with the ring on her finger, her bottom lip catching between her teeth when the vehicle slowed to a stop in front of a massive, sprawling château.

Raymond was chortling to himself when they exited the car, handing their bags over to the house's many staff, all of whom seemed delighted to see the young woman in their company.

The three looked up at the towering home before them, all seeming to steel their nerves for the night to come.

"I want this to go well," Rosalie confided, turning to her companion, "This is tantamount to you meeting my parents, only it's a lot more involved than that."

Both Raymond and Dembe grinned at her fretting. "My dear, you know first hand we are the utmost in charm and decorum."

Rosalie blanched.

"Please, no drawing guns, no bashing Florian's taste in cigars, and you" she gestured pointedly at Raymond, "You can be your charming self without flirting with his wife."

"Come now, where's the fun in that?" Red waved a careless hand for Rosalie's appalled expression, coaxing her toward the front door. "You forget I've already met Florian, and we've long since accepted the fact that Marietta is going to positively adore me. Besides, I've heard she's a loaded pistol, and I'm eager to see just how far your apple has fallen from the Armel family tree."

Dembe could be heard sniggering behind them, garnering a terrorized expression from Rosalie.

"It's Christmas, a time of purity and joy," she turned to her compatriot for support, "Dembe, tell him he needs to behave himself."

"That's a very big ask, Rosalie." He lifted his hands in a helpless gesture, causing Raymond to roar with laughter.

She leveled Dembe a heart-wrenching, consternated pout. "Oh, you're no help at all. What good is having the boss's right hand in my pocket when you won't bully him about for me?"

Red was undeterred, leaning to goose the curve of Rosalie's backside, causing her to all but leap onto the home's threshold. "I can assure you my thoughts are most...impure, little dove. Though, I can promise what I have in mind will leave you quite joyous."

Rosalie whipped around and poked his chest with a manicured finger, "Now listen here, you won't be getting your holly jolly's with me, bub."

"Oh I'll get them, don't you worry" he grinned lasciviously at his little companion before bending to whisper in her ear.

"Keep in mind I like my holly jollies gift wrapped. Bows and all."

The heavy mahogany doors swung wide seconds later, revealing Florian and Marietta Armel, beaming in welcome and quickly ushering the trio inside the warm foyer.