The reviews for this story are seriously some of the nicest I've ever received. Many thanks and appreciations.
She was clinging to him, trying to pull him back to her, but he moved away determinedly, his mouth set. She was killing him, for god's sake. How was he going to endure this?
He went straight to the shelves and procured the scotch and a glass for himself. He paused momentarily and plucked up another wine glass for Liz as well. She hadn't moved from where he had kissed her against the wall. He didn't look at her, but rush of pleasure burned through him at the thought of it. He immediately tilted the scotch to his mouth and let nearly three fingers of it slide down his throat in one delicious, burning swallow. He needed to be dulled—to calm his enflamed senses and numb the memory of her sweet, sweet mouth on his. God, he shouldn't have kissed her…now he could think of nothing else, and it was going to ruin him.
Liz quietly slid into the seat across the table from him and accepted the fresh glass of wine he offered her. It was two in the afternoon, she realized. If they kept up this pace, they were both going to pass out before dinner. Shrugging, she took a healthy swig from her glass and committed to her fate.
Every part of her was humming. She knew Red was likely about to lecture her, calmly, on why they shouldn't start fooling around while locked down here together, and they were likely to be very good, sane, reasonable arguments, perhaps similar to the ones she herself had worked out earlier that morning; however, things changed the second he'd pressed her up against that wall and kissed her. Did he really think he could just walk away from her like that? Her nervous system was on fire, her entire body ached with un-sated lust and need—and for now, she was content to let it burn, because in acting as he had, Red had tipped his hand.
He hadn't meant to, of course, but now she had no doubt the he wanted her just as much as she wanted him, and that knowledge gave her a rush of power and excitement too euphoric to resist. Consequences be damned, there would never be a more opportune time to explore her feelings for Red than now. They had over four more days to spend locked down here alone together, and she was going to use that time well, Liz chuckled a little to herself.
She could feel Red looking at her, so she straightened and met his gaze unflinchingly. He faltered the slightest bit.
"Lizzie," he began somewhat trepidatiously. "You must realize that there couldn't be a worse possible time for us to begin exploring…" he waved one hand about in a nebulous gesture, searching for a word while Liz leaned back in her chair and openly enjoyed his efforts to make a case. "The alternative avenues of our partnership…"
"Partnership?" Liz grinned as she questioned his word choice, her eyes never leaving his face.
"Relationship," he conceded, clearly flustered by her nonchalant response to his very serious attempt to draw a line in the sand. Liz raised her wine glass in approval and took another swig.
"That's true," she agreed thoughtfully, looking up to the ceiling.
"It's highly likely that once we're out of here, you would feel very differently about the…events…that would transpire…"
"You mean sex?" she asked with a small smile, bluntly enough to catch him off guard, but matter-of-factly enough to allow him to believe she was simply clarifying his purposeful ambiguity. "You think I would regret it?"
"I think you're having difficult time, and you're looking for a distraction," he clarified.
"Well, sex is a natural coping mechanism for stress," she justified.
"Lizzie," he paused, his eyes searching her face. "I think we both know it wouldn't be just sex."
She sobered a little and sat up. He was right. This could never be the strings-free, casual fling kind of thing. She havered, unsure if she was was simply acting out in response to her new identity and present circumstances, or if she was finally taking advantage of an unexpected opportunity to act on her attraction to Red without having to figure out how their work would fit in to the mix.
"You're right," she nodded slowly, acknowledging the truth of his words. "It wouldn't be."
"And right now, it's not the smart thing to do," he told her gently. "For a lot of reasons." Then suddenly he grew very serious. "Elizabeth, under these circumstances, I would be taking advantage of you, and I'm not going to do that."
"Is that really how you see it?" she frowned and shook her head. If anything it was the other way around. She felt like she was taking advantage of him.
"Yes," he confirmed.
"What if it doesn't feel that way to me?" she scowled. "What if I still want to explore the alternative avenues?"
"Lizzie," he growled warningly, and she straightened.
"Hey, don't be annoyed at me Red—I didn't just kiss myself up against that wall over there!" she huffed. "I had no idea you were such a tease…"
"Enough," his voice was almost hoarse with something akin to shame. "Elizabeth, please don't…"
"Fine, fine," she held her hands up in the traditional gesture of surrender, sensing he was at a breaking point, knowing she could afford to bide her time and wear him down slowly. She rose from the table and sat back down on her bed with her glass of wine and game of solitaire. "I'm over here now, see?"
She made a small show of going back to her game, and a few moments later, Red selected another novel from the shelf and settled back down on his own bed. Liz waited until he stopped shifting about, then took an opportunity to sneak a glance over at him.
Her eyes moved purposefully over his form, and she imagined what he would be like under all of those clothes—would it be possible to unbutton that shirt with her teeth? Would he would loose it if she did?—and as she reminisced explicitly about how certain parts of him had felt pressed up against certain parts of herself, she felt his eyes suddenly shift towards her. Guilty of being caught staring, she met his glance shamefaced and looked back down at her cards quickly. When she looked back up, his eyes were back on the book, but his mouth was pulled into a small smirk.
A few safe minutes later, she took the time to study his face, knowing he could catch her at any moment, not caring this time if he did. She admired the slender curves of his lips and the aristocratic arch of his nose in profile. Her gaze moved down to his hands on the book. She admired his strong fingers and nails, clean and neatly manicured. They were big hands, but she had seen what delicate, finite work they could do. She blushed and smiled to herself, then felt Red's eyes on her once more. She met his gaze and grinned, even while he looked at her suspiciously and discouragingly. His distress at her obvious appraisal of him amused her to no end, and she had to suppress a tiny laugh as he pointedly looked away from her and back to his book.
Deciding she wanted to provoke him (just a little!), she returned to her cards and pretended to be absorbed in them until she was certain he refocused on the book. Then lightening-quick, she turned her whole body towards him , leaned forward, and focused on him intensely, purposefully, eyes huge, trembling with repressed laughter. There was an immediate change in his expression as he suppressed his own laughter.
"Stop it," he commanded, chuckling, not looking at her.
"Stop what?" she queried, all sweetness and innocence.
"I can feel you staring at me," he grumbled, still not looking at her.
"You can feel me staring at you? That makes no sense, Red," she smirked.
"You know what you're doing, Elizabeth," he countered, finally looking over at her.
"What am I doing, Red?"
"Lizzie," he groaned in exasperation. "We just went over this," he sat up and and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. "Please don't make this any harder than it has to be."
"From what I felt, I didn't think it could get much harder," she shot back wickedly, enjoying the look of surprise on his face. Then his expression changed, deepened with lust, and she licked her suddenly dry lips.
"You would be right," he muttered darkly, half to himself, and Liz felt her heart jump. "But that doesn't change anything."
"It does though," she muttered back almost petulantly.
"Enough!" his tone brokered no argument. "Please, Lizzie…" Then he sighed as though under duress, rested his elbows on his knees, and put his head into his hands.
Liz was suddenly offended by his demeanor. She had never considered Red a hypocrite before, but she felt it nothing short of insulting for him to behave as though sleeping with her would be some heinous act only a monster would commit, when mere minutes prior he had been grinding his hard-on into her hip. She understood his rationale for not wanting to get involved—it was nothing she hadn't considered herself—but there was no need for him to act like such a martyr about it.
Why couldn't he just say that he wanted her too? Where was the sweet, touching mutual declaration of feelings? Not happening—Straight to the doom and gloom.
She pulled her feet back up onto her bed and let him have his dramatic moment of silence, looking back to her cards and rolling her eyes. It hurt to have her honest, if admittedly nascent feelings brushed aside and treated as though the only reasons she could possibly have them were due to recent traumatic experiences. How condescending, she thought.
Wow, condescending and hypocritical in the last minute. Maybe it was actually a good thing Red was rejecting her advances.
And who the hell was he to be shaking his head at her like that anyway? Since when did Raymond Reddington have the moral capital to be all high and mighty over her? All for just having the apparently galling impetus to have sex? With him? When he wanted it too? The horror.
She jumped up abruptly and poured another glass of wine. Red startled and looked up, but she ignored him and flopped back down on her bed.
Why couldn't anything ever be simple with him? Why couldn't it ever be easy? Why did he always withhold and pull away from her even when she knew he wanted to let go. It was always like this. Every time. She recalled how he had berated her after she saved his life in that back room after being auctioned off like an object. She had wanted to tell him then, wanted to hold him then. She had heard him say her name—his last word with a gun to the back of his skull. She knew then that there was so much more
But, of course, before she had even had a chance to reflect on it, to talk with him about it, he was scolding her, chastising her for caring, making her feel stupid for it. Typical Red, he could dish it, but he couldn't take it…or at least he couldn't allow himself to take it. You are so damaged she had once told him. Red couldn't accept love or help from anyone. It was a complete waste of time to think otherwise.
She sighed deeply and started shuffling her cards. She could feel Red watching her from the other side of the room, but she refused to look at him. He had said 'enough,' and now it was up to him to break the silence, if he felt so inclined.
But he didn't say anything.
The next hour passed in agonizing quiet. She played her games while he read his book. She gnawed on her lip and blinked back the sting of unshed tears. She wished she could be alone. After awhile, she couldn't take the heavy silence anymore.
"Do you mind if I turn on the TV?" she muttered just loud enough for him to hear.
"Not at all," he replied smoothly, not looking up from his book.
She turned on the news. Then, when she was certain she had caught all of the major headlines, she switched over to some insufferable afternoon gameshow. She sat down on her bed, back against the wall, and zoned out for awhile. She didn't look at Red once.
Eventually, there was a knock overhead. It was Eli, there to make the once daily exchange of trash and dirty things for a delicious dinner and clean things. This time there were chicken pot pies and roasted potatoes, and green salads.
He handed the meal down to them along with the customary bag of fresh clothes and towels. Liz thanked him and proceeded to set up their little table for the meal. Red and Eli shared a quick, muted conversation at the top of the stair ladder, and before Liz could get a handle on what they were discussing, Eli called down "Have a good night!" before moving the sink back in to place. Liz wondered if he had any idea of what was happening down there…or what she wished was happening down there.
"Shall we?" Red made a small bow and gestured to the table. Liz nodded and sat down in the seat he pulled out for her. She thanked him and he practically danced around to the other side of the table and took his seat. "I have good news, Lizzie!" he crowed. "Our associate may be ready for us even sooner than I had anticipated. We may possibly be out of here a day or two early."
"Oh…okay," she nodded in acknowledgement. "Great."
"I thought you would be pleased," he frowned.
"I am, Red."
She began to eat mechanically. The food was good, but her mind was too full for her stomach to feel empty. She could feel Red's eyes on her, but she didn't meet his gaze. Was the Troll Maker what the whispered conversation with Eli had been about? Had Eli told Red the news, or had Red been asking Eli to push the Troll Maker along? Was this sudden change of plan motived by his new-found desire to get away from her?
She felt a stab of panic. What was going to happen once they finally got out of here? How were they going to carry out their plans to destroy the Cabal and clear her name when she couldn't figure out if she wanted to kiss him or strangle him?
And now she had even less time to figure that issue out.
"Lizzie?" Red tried again. "Is everything alright?"
He was acting like nothing was out of the ordinary, like she hadn't woken up in his bed that morning, as though they hadn't exchanged their first kiss that very day, like their bodies hadn't each been furiously aroused by the other, like he hadn't completely rejected her, pushed her away, told her she didn't have the capacity to consent and that it it would be wrong for them to enjoy one another. She felt almost cheated. It should have been better than that. These moments were years in the making, and that was how they were going to play out? Liz shook her head silently at her plate in disappointment and screwed her eyes shut until the sting of tears went away.
"I'm fine," she muttered to her potatoes.
Red watch the play of emotions across her face, took another swig of whiskey and leaned back in his chair.
"Please," he started again, and Liz was suddenly so sick of hearing him say that word. "Please, tell me what you're thinking…"
Liz sighed. What could she say?
Then, suddenly, it occurred to her that maybe she should just tell him the truth…at least some of it. If he was going to withhold, she was going to spill and just let him have it.
She looked up at him in one quick motion, fixing her gaze on his intently, purposefully, because she was going to note every twitch, tick and spasm of his expression as she spoke.
"I keep thinking about your mouth," she murmured matter-of-factly.
Red's eyebrows shot up into his hairline. "Lizzie…" he breathed, and she smirked at him.
"Your lips," she continued, "are so warm…and so soft."
"Elizabeth," he groaned. "Stop it, please…I'm begging you to let it go," he sounded as though he were in agony. She smirked again. Begging already? I'll show you torture.
"I can't let it go," she sighed in mock regret. "I can't stop thinking about how good your mouth felt on mine…"
Red made a sudden strangled sound from across the table. She glanced at him, her expression wicked and knowing. He straightened in his chair and attempted to collect himself, but she knew she had him.
She stood and as one might approach a wild animal, began to slowly make her way around the table as she spoke.
"You have no idea how good," she breathed, coming to rest at his side a few feet away, tingling with anticipation. She made no move to touch him, but she could tell he was painfully aware of her proximity. "Red…"
"Lizzie, you don't know how much I'd like to…how much I've wanted this," he started, his voice almost cracking. He looked up at her from his chair beseechingly. "But now is not the right time for us to…experiment. Tell me you understand that. You deserve so much better than this…" he gestured to their surroundings.
"Then why did you kiss me here?" she cried, throwing her hands up in exasperation at his hypocrisy.
Red sobered as he considered her words. Clearly that was not how he'd wanted their first kiss to go either. Then suddenly he frowned.
"I thought you said you liked the kiss!" he scowled at her. "Oh Red, your mouth, your lips!" he mimicked her recent words in a girlish tone, mocking her.
"Stop it! You stole our first kiss!" she cried, slapping his shoulder. "I didn't even get a chance to participate in it! That's all I could register before you pushed me away and took it all back."
Red winced and looked up at her.
"Oh Lizzie, I'm so sorry…"
"Don't be sorry," she cut him off. "Fix it. That's all I want, Red, just one moment where you kiss me and you let me reciprocate for once…just this once, please."
She heard his breath catch in his throat. He was watching her intently, considering. Then slowly, he stood, his eyes never leaving her face.
"Just this once," he growled, "and then we set the matter aside until this whole ordeal is over. Agreed?"
"Negotiation? Now?" Liz chuckled. She had every intention of eliciting a little more than just one of his kisses, every intention of doing whatever it would take to get Red to relent and loose control. For the moment, however, it was prudent to accept his small offer, to at least give the appearance of cooperation, though he was a fool if he really thought this issue wasn't going to come up again. She looked up into his face and found his expression hopeful. She smiled and nodded in agreement. "Okay."
They stood together awkwardly for a moment, the freshly mandated do-over of their first kiss hanging over their heads.
"This isn't uncomfortable at all," he quipped. She laughed and suddenly wrapped her arms around him. With her face buried in his shoulder, Red hesitantly put one hand in the small in her back and the other he fisted in her hair. "That's better. You smell very nice," he sighed, leaning in and simply holding her close.
"Thanks," she grinned into his chest. "You picked good shampoo."
"Oh, well," he hesitated. "I'll have to pass that along to my personal shopper. He's invaluable."
"Oh," Liz scoffed. "Your personal shopper, of course," she teased. "Did he pick out this v-neck?" She reached up and hooked her index finger into the tip of the neckline.
"He makes sure all of my "go-bags' are packed with whatever I'll need, yes."
"Do you think he anticipated you wearing it to show off a hickey from me?" Liz laughed against him and moved her hand from his neckline to touch the referenced mark. She passed her thumb over it lightly. He shivered and reflexively reached to take her hand away, as though the sensation were too much. Emboldened, she stood on tiptoes and placed her lips against the place Red had unwittingly exposed to her. His sudden hiss of surprise and pleasure felt like triumph to her. Ever so lightly, she ran the tip of her tongue across his skin, surprised to find she remembered the flavor of it. Red groaned deep in his throat and lightening-quick pushed her an arm's-length away roughly, his hands still griping her shoulders and upper arms.
"Lizzie!" His expression was a mixture of surprise and lust. He quirked an eyebrow at her and tilted his head, as though to give himself a better angle to assess the situation. She watched him calmly, waiting to see what he'd do, gloating a little at having provoked such a delightful response from him. He smiled suddenly and huffed a small sound of disbelief.
Gently, ever so gently, he moved his hands from her shoulders, ghosted his fingers up the sides of her neck and cupped her face. A thrill moved through her as he drew her in, his gaze intent on her mouth, his fingers entangling themselves in the strands of hair at the back of her head.
His eyes met hers briefly, checking, assessing, obtaining permission. She smiled at him and tilted her face upwards to meet his as he leaned in and brushed his mouth against hers. Once. Twice. Chaste, teasing butterfly kisses that left her feeling weak and intoxicated, and felt nothing like the passionate, bruising kiss he'd laid on her earlier.
With the third pass of his mouth, Liz reached up to put one hand on the back of his head, holding his mouth against hers, moving her lips against his, taking control of the kiss. Red moaned into her mouth and released his hold on her jaw; Liz immediately pressed her body back up against the warmth of his own. His arms closed around her, compressing her tightly against him. Her hand moved up over the back of his skull, through the peach fuzz of his hair, her fingers swirling, Then she gently scraped her nails over his scalp and down the back of his neck.
"Jesus, Lizzie!" Red jumped back as though she had electrocuted him.
"You like that, huh?" she chuckled and moved in to reclaim his lips.
"Yes," he whispered against her cheek the second her succulent mouth pulled away from his. "Far too much," He groaned.
He nuzzled his way into the curve of her neck and nibbled delicately on her flesh. She shivered and tilted her head to allow him better access, hoping he would continue on despite his having already kissed her and technically fulfilled their little deal.
He did.
Red's warm, flat tongue swept firmly over the pulse point on her neck, and she moaned unexpectedly. She felt him snort against her neck with a puff of air and she chuckled against him.
"Do you feel how good we are?" she whispered against the shell of his ear. He paused in kissing her neck to whisper up in to her ear,
"Yes."
He stepped back to study her face, his expression warm and wistful. "Remember that, Lizzie, please." he sighed. "When this is all over, and you're standing back in your own office again at the F.B.I., remember how goddamn good we are together and act accordingly."
He swept the pad of his thumb across her cheek, cupping her jawline affectionately, longingly, before stepping away from her altogether and returning to his side of the room.