Archive of Our Own

“Red?” he heard her call from through the kitchen. 

No matter how silent he tried to be as he shut the back door of their current safe house, Elizabeth always seemed to hear him enter. He considered not answering and silently slinking into the bathroom. But then her tone filled with concern as she added, “Is that you, Red?”

With a sign of resignation, he called back, “Yes, it’s me.”

An awkward moment of silence followed.

Finally, she called out again, “Why aren’t you coming into the kitchen?”

Pressing his lips together, Red mentionally prepared himself for what he knew was about to happen.

“I think I should wash up first.”

The silence that followed contained a particular element he knew all too well - anger. He took a step towards the bathroom but then stopped at the sight of her.

Elizabeth appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, her hands on her hips. She wore a long apron covered with specks of red sauce. But she took the time to look him up and down before asking any questions. He could tell immediately that she recognized the dark stain on his jacket, not to mention the tell-tale sign of ripped fabric.

“What happened?” she demanded in horror.

“Just a graze.”

She was across the mud room in a second and then helped him carefully peel the suit jacket from his arm.

“Why didn’t you call a mobile medical unit?”

“No need for all that fuss. It's barely anything.”

“Where's Dembe? Did he get hurt?”

“Dembe’s fine. He's sorting things out. He knew I wanted to be home in time for dinner.”

“And Kate?”

“Mister Kaplan is… busy doing her job.”

She appraised him with her vibrant blue eyes and surmised, “So your plan was to slip in unnoticed, throw a bandaid on this, and act as though nothing happened?”

They both looked down at the wound. It was indeed a graze, but it had bled heavily on the drive to the safe house and likely needed stitches.

“Steri-strips would be fine,” he answered her, serious but off-hand in his acknowledgment of the truth she had guessed.

“Come in here,” she muttered in annoyance, leading him to the bathroom.

This particular safe house was equipped with a fine medical kit, and Elizabeth busted it out without hesitation. Thankfully, it contained needles and thread for stitches, and she made her preparations despite his protests.

“It’s just a graze…” he tried to insist, but Elizabeth shooshed him as she did her work.

Sterilizing the wound and her instruments, Elizabeth moved quickly before he could protest too much. He winced as the needle threaded through his skin, but she knew he had endured much worse. By the end, she had tied it off in a neat knot, put a bandage over it for protection, and looked proud of herself for how little of a scar it would leave. 

Red had enough scars.

“I’m sorry, Lizzie,” he said as he looked up at her.

Confused, she asked, “Sorry for what?”

“I didn’t mean to ruin this night. I know you were planning…”

To cook.

She had been planning to cook.

After taking lessons from Dembe and watching countless Youtube videos, Elizabeth had finally been ready to foray into the realm of actual cooking. And they both knew she hated cooking. So this was a large step out of her comfort zone.

Until he had ruined it, Red lamented silently.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” Elizabeth told him smartly as she threw his offending, blood-stained clothes into a laundry basket. She pulled an older but considerably cleaner shirt from the basket and handed it to him before returning to the kitchen. Smirking to himself, Red realized how well she knew him. He hated being unclothed, especially around her, and they both knew why.

He put on the shirt and buttoned it before retrieving his perfectly clean, not-at-all bloodied waistcoat and adding that over the shirt. To hide some of the wrinkles, he rolled up the sleeves. 

As he stepped into the kitchen, he walked up behind Elizabeth where she stood at the stove. Pressing a kiss to a sliver of exposed skin on her shoulder, he said, “Please don’t let me interrupt-”

Tsking him, she smiled over her shoulder and said, “The sauce is simmering. The pasta’s ready. Garlic bread is in the oven. The timer will go off when it’s ready.”

Without saying more, she crossed the kitchen, opened a cabinet, and removed two wine glasses. Then she picked up the bottle which had been left to breath on the counter and poured them each a glass of rich, burgundy wine. She started to hand him his, but even as he accepted it, she did not let go.

“Oh, would you prefer pain medicine?” she asked, pausing to consider his injury.

With a slight shake of his head, Red stated with affection, “Not at all. I don’t want to dull my senses too much this evening.”

Their gaze met as he brought the glass of wine to his lips, and Red knew from the look in Elizabeth’s eyes that he was forgiven for coming home covered in blood. Despite the impromptu stitches, he had not ruined the evening she had been planning for weeks after all. 

She smiled in confirmation and turned back to the stove to stir the pasta sauce a little more. Even as he began to offer to set the table, Red realized that the table was already set. While the little kitchenette table was empty, he could see through the doorway of the kitchen that the larger dining room held two place settings along with a vase full of flowers and two unlit candles.

With a heavy sigh, Red felt even more grateful he had chosen to come directly home, gunshot wound and all.

“Are you going to tell me what went wrong tonight?” Elizabeth asked as she pulled a tray of delicious-smelling garlic bread from the oven.

With a wince, he admitted, “I’d rather not.”

“Because you don’t want me to worry? Or you think I’ll disapprove?”

“Both, I imagine.”

“Red…”

She held up a spatula in warning as she pierced him with a fierce look. Finally, he relented. 

“My new client, the one I told you about, from Wales? Apparently, he was… commissioned by an old enemy to bring back my head.”

“Do you know which one?”

“Damian Davies,” he said. “We met years ago in Cardiff and bonded over a round of pints at a pub. He took great delight in my utter inability to understand the local language and eventually we became business associates.”

Elizabeth stared at him before prompting, “And?”

Shaking his head slightly from side to side, he admitted, “I may or may not have slept with his sister.”

With a snort, she asked with amusement, “Did you or didn’t you?”

“I’m actually not sure. It was rather… dark.”

She tried very hard not to laugh as he launched into a detailed account of the rather unfortunate power outage which occurred one summer evening in Cardiff, one which ended up being the perfect excuse for a back-room orgy Damien invited him to attend. 

“How was I to know she was his sister?” he went on. “But Damien was incensed, and he vowed to get revenge.”

Studying him carefully, Elizabeth said, “All of this to assassinate you decades later because you slept with his sister?”

“Well, I might have also taken the opportunity to help myself to trade routes off the coast of Holyhead. It was a rather lucrative contract and he resented me for it for years, falling headfirst into the bottle until even his wife left him.”

Shaking her head, Elizabeth pulled two plates out of a cabinet and began portioning each of them a meal before handing the plates to Red to take to the dining room. She followed him with their glasses of wine and a box of matches for the candles.

The smell of sulfur lingered in the air just for a moment after she lit the tapers, and then before she could sit down, Red realized she had taken off her apron. Beneath it, she wore a short crimson dress with a daring neckline. He had already noticed she wore her hair in a messy updo, but combined with the dress, she looked incredible. Not that she didn’t always look gorgeous, but in this instance, he knew she had dressed up for the occasion. 

And he had shown up covered in blood.

“You look beautiful, Elizabeth,” he told her, hoping he could convey his sincerity with his voice. And then looking down at the spaghetti she had made, he offered, “And this looks delicious.”

“It isn’t fancy-” she began, and he quickly interrupted her.

“Food doesn’t have to be ‘fancy’ to be delectable.”

He quickly twirled his fork in the pasta, making sure to coat it in pasta sauce, before taking a bite. Smiling with pleasure as the flavor palate hit his tongue, he carefully chewed and swallowed, knowing that she was watching his expression slowly.

It needed a bit of salt. And the noodles were a tad under-cooked. But otherwise, the meal was delightful.

“This is excellent, Lizzie,” he told her, reaching for a container of parmesan cheese to add to the dish now that he had tasted it.

“Really?” She sounded uncertain, as though she needed reassurance.

“I can taste the basil in the sauce. Did you use fresh?”

She beamed as she nodded, obviously pleased he had noticed.

As they finished the meal together, talking and laughing about whatever topic came to mind, Red enjoyed the sated feeling of how freely Elizabeth just looked at him. While the road towards this point had been a rough one, nothing had bonded them as effectively as the months they had spent on the run clearing her name. 

After that, when Alexander Kirk kidnapped Elizabeth and Red had traded his life for hers, their relationship changed dramatically. She stopped asking endless questions about his past and stopped chasing his secrets. Instead, she had begun chasing him.

The alternation of their dynamic had startled him. For so long, Red had been the one to seek her out. He had never expected her to actually reciprocate his feelings. Not her, a beautiful young woman in the prime of her life, and certainly not for an old criminal like himself.

But she had.

Lifting his glass of wine, Red smiled softly and said, “A toast - to you, Lizzie. And this glorious meal.”

While she lifted her glass in turn, Elizabeth corrected him. “To us.”

“To us,” he agreed. 

For months, she had flirted with him, beginning with subtlety and then becoming more and more bold until she verged on making her intentions unequivocally clear. Still, it did not seem quite possible. Finally, she said something that made the ground drop out from under him.

“So, there’s this guy I’m interested in,” she confessed as they sat side by side in the park one otherwise unremarkable afternoon.

Not daring to hope, he asked, “Have you said something to him?”

“I’ve been dropping the most insanely obvious hints - for weeks,” Elizabeth stated, her eyes locked with his.

“Maybe you need to be more obvious. For some men, subtle clues just aren’t enough. Maybe you should just tell him you’re attracted to him and you want to pursue something.”

Her eyes sparkled as she looked at him, and he felt something within him clench. Please don’t be another Tom. Please don’t be Ressler. Oh dear god, please, please don’t be Dembe-

“Red, it’s you,” she said with a snort. “You’re the man I’m talking about. You’re the one I’m attracted to.”

His eyes widened in surprise. Then, as inconspicuously as possible, he reached across to pinch the skin on the back of his hand, hard. The pain reassured him that this was not a dream. 

“Me?” he said, feeling both elated and foolish. “Are you sure, Lizzie?”

“Am I sure?” she repeated with equal measures amusement and disbelief. “Yes, Red, I’m sure. But what about you? How do you feel?”

While he struggled to understand how she could possibly feel such things for him, he was equally confused as to how she could ask her own question.

“Surely my feelings are apparent, Lizzie.”

“Are they? You’ve never said anything.”

Red gazed at her, feeling awestruck by her beauty once again and enchanted by the lovely sound of her voice. Everything about her appealed to him, on every level. He was attracted to her, certainly, but he also simply enjoyed being near her. He wanted to protect her and keep her safe, but also to challenge her and lead her to find her own strengths. And more than anything, he wanted her to be happy.

Unfortunately, he was not a harbinger of happiness.

“Elizabeth, a relationship with me would more than complicate your life. I never said anything because I didn’t want to endanger you.”

Her breath caught in her throat. But after a moment, she expelled a breath and reached for him, pressing her lips to his.

Smiling as he remembered that conversation, Red took a sip of his wine as he watched Elizabeth do the same. A year had passed since that fateful day in the park, since she had finally made her move and kissed him senseless. Later, she had resolutely ignored all the reasons he offered as to why being with him could ultimately cause her pain and heartache. 

No, Elizabeth knew her own mind. And through some gift of fate Red could never repay, she wanted him. An international criminal twenty years her senior. But to her, none of that mattered.

“We’ve been together a year,” she observed out loud. “Happy anniversary, Red.”

“Happy anniversary, Lizzie,” he echoed. Then, something occurred to him and he stood up. Walking to her side of the table, he held out his hand to her. In answer to the silent question in her eyes, he said, “Let’s do a bit of star gazing, my dear.”

* * *

As they stepped onto the patio, Elizabeth shivered a little in the cool air. Spring had definitely come to Washington D.C., but the weather had not quite relinquished the last of winter, especially late in the evening. But she did not turn back to get a jacket, not wanting to detract from the effect of the dress she had chosen specifically for this evening.

Glancing down at their intertwined fingers, Elizabeth smiled to herself in satisfaction. The past year with Red had practically flown by. With each new experience between them, each shared intimacy or adventure together, she had fallen more deeply in love. While she had always known there was more to the man than being the immaculately attired Concierge of Crime, she had come to know someone of abiding moral conviction and immense sacrifice. 

While he never bragged about his many acts of conscience, she could glimpse them behind his stories. And sometimes Dembe told on him. But they were all cleverly hidden behind business ventures and crimes which he could use to camouflage his real motives. So, investing in a manufacturing plant in Burundi was a cover for overhauling the local utility system to provide clean water and cheap energy. Supplying guns to a warlord in Sudan actually led to food aid shipments being escorted under guard to where they needed to go. Even something as small as a jewel caper in New Jersey led to a child getting a much-needed kidney transplant.

Beneath all his bravado and well-enunciated monologues beat the heart of a romantic and an egalitarian. She might even call him a modern day Robin Hood - robbing from criminals to give to the poor and unfortunate. 

“Are you cold?” he asked, noticing her as she crossed her arms over her chest. But before waiting for a response, he had begun to go back inside to retrieve a covering for her.

“No,” she said sharply, stopping him dead in his tracks. He turned back to her and she reached out a hand to him. “You can keep me warm, Red.”

He took her hand again without hesitation and escorted her to one of the chaise lounges on the patio. The current safe house where they were staying had an outdoor swimming pool and an amazing view over a sizable lake. With such a large property, they were assured of privacy, and even now, under the cover of darkness, no one would see them across the water.

Red leaned back slightly in the seat and pulled her into the space between his legs as he wrapped his arms around her. She let her body relax against his well-muscled chest and sighed in contentment.

“Thank you for tonight, Lizzie,” he told her, sounding so sincere that it touched her deeply.

“Thank you for coming home in one piece,” she answered, then added, “Well, mostly.”

Being Raymond Reddington was dangerous. She knew that. She had been right there when he’d been shot just standing in the street. And she could no more ask him to give up his life of crime than she could ask him to stop breathing. The world in which he existed, the complex and grand schemes he executed on a regular basis, were part of him. And with those schemes came the sort of danger he had faced on this day.

“I’ll always do whatever I have to do to come home to you,” Red promised her. 

And while there was sincerity in his tone, she knew that he did not value his own safety the way she did. Part of being who he was allowed him to keep her safe, to have the money and resources to shield her from the same criminal world he so often occupied. And he would always value her safety over his own. Her comfort over his own. Her pleasure over his own.

As though he could read her thoughts, he whispered in her ear, “Lizzie, you are an absolute vision tonight.”

Gently, he encouraged her to lean forward until there was some distance between them. And immediately, she felt his hands glide down the smooth skin of her naked back. At first, he simply hummed a quiet appreciation, but after the second pass, he pressed those talented lips to her flesh, right at the base of her neck.

A new shiver went through her, but this time it had nothing to do with being cold.

“I love this dress,” he told her, the dull rumble of his voice going straight through her. 

With a smile, she turned slightly and said, “I thought you might. I saw it at the store and had to buy it.”

His lips moved to her shoulder, pressing a delicate kiss against her skin, and Elizabeth delighted at the electric feeling that shot through her. Red always had a particular way of touching her, as though making love was an act of worship.

“I hope you used the credit card I gave you,” he said blandly, his lips moving, his hands continuing to stroke up and down her back with a gentle caress. 

“You don’t have to pay for everything of mine,” she began to protest, but then he nipped lightly at the side of her neck, bringing her up short.

“You should put all of your money in the bank, Lizzie. That way, you have the funds if you ever need to walk away.”

It was an old argument, one that Elizabeth hated. He often spoke of the end of their relationship as a foregone conclusion, and usually he assumed it would happen when she grew tired of him. Occasionally, he made mention of his inevitable death. But in those circumstances, Elizabeth knew that he intended to leave her an obscene fortune. 

No, he wanted her to have the ability to leave him, to not feel dependent upon his wealth or feel intimidated by the reach of his power. She had worked hard on dispelling the deep seated unworthiness he carried with him, the absolute belief that he was not deserving of anything other than providing for her. The material things were lovely, yes, but they paled in comparison to his love and devotion.

“I don’t want to walk away from you,” she assured him softly. “Especially not while you’re doing that.”

He had moved his hands up to massage her shoulders while simultaneously kissing and stimulating the length of her neck. Long ago, he had found a spot just below her ear which simply did things to her, and he never failed to visit that area whenever they made love.

Elizabeth learned early in their relationship that Red was a generous lover. He did not actively seek pleasure. He only received it, and usually grudgingly at her insistence. He also preferred to keep his clothing on as long as possible, as though anything about his body could possibly offend her. But even then, he rarely removed his shirt, always saying mildly, “You don’t want to see that.”

But she had seen the scars. She had mapped the misshapen flesh with tears in her eyes and wondered how much pain he had endured, not only in the moment but afterwards, while those horrible burns healed. 

He refused to speak of the fire. When she asked if he had saved her life, he only ever responded that she had been the one to save him. But she kept the rest of her questions deep within her, unwilling to hurt him just to know whatever truths he was keeping so close.

But deep down, she knew. He had burned for her.

Elizabeth gasped aloud at the thought and Red froze.

“Did I hurt you, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice full of apprehension.

“No,” she whispered immediately, shaking her head. Far from it. “I was just in my own head for a moment.”

He was silent for far too long, and Elizabeth felt the cold where his hands had been on her moments earlier.

“We don’t have to do anything tonight, Lizzie. Just because we are celebrating an anniversary does not mean you should feel obligated-”

She turned on him, suddenly angry.

“When have I ever felt obligated?” she demanded.

But as she glimpsed his face, the expression of doubt and pain there froze her and melted away her ire. He looked so uncertain, so anxious not to press upon her. For all of his confidence and assurance in the criminal world, with her, he was sometimes just a nervous little boy. One afraid of being rejected and denied love once again.

“Never.”

He closed his eyes tightly, and Elizabeth pressed a hand against his chest. He tensed at her touch, as though he had to carefully control his reaction to her.

Red had once shared with her, while their heads shared a pillow after a particularly passionate bout of lovemaking, that he suspected he was addicted to her body. As if confessing a horrible secret, he had told her of the ever-present compulsion to just… touch her. Any part of her. So long as their skin met skin, he needed that contact. He needed her.

But with his confession, he had expressed a complimentary desire that she never submit to his touch out of some misguided sense of duty or requirement. Red only ever wanted her enthusiastic participation, and if he ever glimpsed for a second an expression of disgust or disappointment on her face, he would stop immediately.

She suspected his feelings on this sprang from the same deep well of unworthiness she had come to know so well. Because from all the stories others told, Red was not like this with other women. He did not doubt himself or doubt his ability to satisfy. Only with her was he hesitant. Only with her did he analyze every sound, every movement, to ensure he was giving her the love he believed her worthy of experiencing. 

And while Elizabeth hated being placed on a pedestal, she also suspected that Red would cut himself in half if she stepped off of it, if only to bring himself lower for her.

“I want something from you tonight,” she told him, suddenly very tired of always being on the receiving end of Red’s utter devotion.

“What do you want?”

“I want you to let me have my way with you,” she told him, holding his gaze with utter confidence. 

“Of course-”

“That means letting me do whatever I want… with you.”

She emphasized the word deliberately and then watched as he swallowed, obviously a little uncomfortable. 

“Lizzie…” he began.

“Please, Red.”

To emphasize her point, Elizabeth began undoing the buttons of first his vest and then his shirt. She shook her head at how buttoned up he was even after she had bandaged his wound earlier. But while he seemed uncomfortable with the direction this was going, he dutifully laid back against the chaise lounge and let her continue.

Once she had his chest bared, Elizabeth unbuckled his belt and removed it as well. Then she unbuttoned and unzipped his pants and pulled the shirt tails from where they were tucked.

Only when she helped him shrug the vest and shirt off his shoulders did Red begin to look as though he might protest. “Lizzie, wouldn’t you prefer-” he began, but she pressed a finger to his lips.

Wouldn’t you prefer me to take care of you?

That was how things normally went. Most of the time, he undressed her and had her a writhing mess of sexual desire even before he’d removed a single stitch of clothing. At first, she had wondered if it was a fetish, to remain so in control while he brought his partner to orgasm after orgasm with his hands and mouth. But gradually, Elizabeth had come to see that Red’s way of making love, of seeing to her needs well ahead of ever finding his own pleasure, was just a part of his personality.

Usually, she had to insist on him finding completion. But he never let her finish him with her mouth. Rather, on the rare occasion when he allowed her to press her lips around his cock, he always insisted on limiting such contact. Once, she had even complained about it.

“You always go down on me,” she had nearly whined, one morning in bed after they had exhausted themselves. “Why won’t you let me do the same? Do you not like the way it feels?”

With a tight shake of the head, Red stated, “No, I love the way it feels. Perhaps too much.”

“Too much?” she asked in confusion.

But his countenance was stony and still as he answered her.

“You aren’t here to service me, Lizzie. That’s not…”

As he shook his head and his voice gave out, Elizabeth realized something very uncomfortable. He did not dislike receiving oral sex. Rather, to the contrary, he did love it. More, he craved it. He wanted it so much that he felt he had to deny himself rather than risk imposing upon her. Like his addiction to touching her skin, he feared becoming addicted to the feel of his cock buried deep in her mouth. And that fear shamed him.

“Please, Red,” she said, leaning forward to press a kiss to his chest. “Let me do this tonight.”

“Why…” he began, sounding both lost and adrift.

“I want to,” she assured him. “Desperately. I want to see you out of control, completely without abandon.”

Grimly, he locked his jaw and nodded, obviously not quite giving up to her request. 

“Did something happen to you?” Elizabeth inquired gently, suddenly concerned she had pressed upon some hidden trauma from his past. But even as he kept his eyes closed and shook his head tightly, she suspected he was lying. “Did someone hurt you?”

“No.”

The word came from his lips instantly, so quickly that it had to be a lie. But she did not press further.

“I want to give you pleasure, Red,” she told him, leaning in close enough to kiss his lips before speaking again. “But not if it is going to upset you.”

“Why?” he asked, his voice hoarse and disbelieving.

“Why do I want to give you pleasure?” she asked, looking at him curiously.

“Why… that way. Why would you…” He trailed off, inexplicably embarrassed by the turn of their conversation.

“The same reason you like to do it, I imagine,” she said slowly, watching his reaction.

“That’s different,” he insisted. 

“How?”

“Because I enjoy… you. I enjoy pleasuring you.”

“And I can’t enjoy pleasuring you in return?”

He shook his head. “No one enjoys that.”

They locked eyes and she told him pointedly, “That just demonstrates you’re not an authority on everything, Raymond.”

The use of his name stopped him, made him take in a deep breath and let it out again before he relaxed. 

“If that’s really what you want,” he allowed, although he said it grudgingly.

“Oh, but I do.”

Without delay or distraction, she reached into his boxers and found his already hard cock waiting for her. Red was not obscenely large, but he did have enough length and girth to satisfy most women. 

“Do you prefer pressure or suction?” she asked, positioning herself to run her tongue up along the full length of him.

“I…” he began, but then abandoned the statement, overwhelmed by sensation.

“I know some men prefer all the attention here,” she said, just before enveloping the tip of his cock with her mouth. She sucked on it for a moment before backing off again and looking up at him.

Red simply stared down at her, his expression unreadable.

“But some men enjoy a… deeper experience.”

Deliberately, she wrapped her hand around the base of him before taking her back into his mouth, more deeply this time. She drew him in until she felt his member hit the back of her throat. Then, resisting the automatic gag reflex, she did it again and again. 

But all the while, Red continued to watch her. And even as she focused on taking him deep into her mouth, Elizabeth took a deep breath into her lungs as she looked up at him. But Red stared down at her with an unmatched intensity.

She swallowed his cock again, this time maintaining eye contact. And Elizabeth smiled to herself as he momentarily lost all ability to speak.

“You feel so good, Lizzie,” he finally managed to say aloud. Such a small concession, but it was tantamount to begging her not to stop.

Elizabeth continued to pleasure him, using her tongue to swirl the head of his cock before taking him fully and firmly into her mouth. All the while, he never broke eye contact. He watched her intently, as though affirming for himself that she made every movement and action voluntarily.

After a few more moments of her attentions, he managed to say, “Lizzie, I’m close. You can stop now.”

But she did not stop. She had no intention of letting him finish in his hand or on her chest or whatever approximation he might burden himself to live with. No, she wanted him to experience every second of the fullest pleasure she could bring him.

“I’m not stopping unless you insist,” she stated before reclaiming him with her mouth, moving more assuredly as his cock hit the back of her throat once more.

He winced out of habit and then closed his eyes as the intensity of pleasure overwhelmed him. Only moments later, his climax hit with devastating intensity. But Elizabeth was prepared to meet and contain it. She kept her mouth on him even as his fingers clutched the fabric of his trousers. She sucked and swallowed greedily until he was completely spent, and only then did she concern herself with anything else.

Tucking his spent cock back into his pants, Elizabeth moved to recline herself next to him, enjoying the feel of his warm body along with the dull hum of her desire.

“Was that okay?” she asked softly.

“Lizzie, that was… incredible,” he said, but his voice was low and rough. “Thank you.”

“If you enjoy it, then why are you so resistant-” she began to ask.

“It just seems different to me,” he said softly. “I've never felt degraded when pleasuring a woman. But it feels wrong to ask that of you.”

He shook his head and looked away, unable to explain further.

“I don't find it degrading,” Elizabeth volunteered.

He looked at her then, his gaze intense. “No?”

“Not if I initiate. And the recipient is… polite.”

He barely hesitated before asking, “Was I polite?”

“Red,” she scolded, “You could not have been more polite. You didn’t even put your hands on me.”

“I didn’t want you to feel obligated to go further.”

Tilting her head slightly, she asked, “Do you feel obligated? When I touch you… during?”

“No. But it is different, Lizzie.”

But as she stared into his eyes, she felt overwhelmed by the feelings reflected back at her. She saw him as he must see himself, unworthy of her in so many aspects. So unworthy that he denied himself pleasure because of what he perceived was a sexual chore for her.

And suddenly, she felt a wave of determination overtake her. On this night and going forward, she would show him how worthy he truly was. Until he believed it.

“Come with me,” she said, taking him by the hand and leading him inside. 

Red followed her without a word as she walked them to the bedroom they shared. Then with an instruction for him to lie down on the bed, she disappeared into the bathroom. She emerged again with a container of lotion in one hand.

She found him on the bed, still naked from the waist up, but reclined on his back.

“Turn over,” she instructed gently.

“Lizzie…”

“Please?” 

She flashed him a pleading look and he acquiesced immediately, giving her a full view of his scarred back. At the same time, he closed his eyes tightly, and she could see the tension in his body.

He hated her looking at his scars. So many times, he had made subtle movements and adjustments to keep his back away from her while they made love or simply showered together, as though he were trying to keep the offensive sight away from her eyes.

But at this moment, his scars were on full display.

“Are you comfortable?” Elizabeth asked, climbing on the bed next to him.

He hesitated a moment before saying, “Yeah.”

“Let me know if I do anything that makes you uneasy. Or if you just want me to back off for a while.” Opening the lotion container, she applied a healthy amount to her palms before setting it aside. “I looked it up, and this is the best lotion for burn scars. It's supposed to have a hydrating effect. But let me know if you don't like it.”

Then she began to very gently massage the lotion into his ruined back. At first, he remained as stiff as a board, as though barely enduring the physical act of her touching him so intimately. But gradually, as she began working deeper into his muscles, he started to relax. 

The lotion had an intoxicating floral scent rather than anything medicinal, and Elizabeth hoped Red was enjoying the massage if nothing else. He had once confessed to her that he had little sensation on the surfaces of the scars. For her part, she loved getting to have her fill of him, warm and plaint beneath her hands. And as her touch strayed to the unscathed part of his lower back, she smiled at the sound of a low moan wrenched from his lips.

Encouraged, she gave that area more attention, alternately massaging his muscles before running her nails lightly over his skin.

“Lizzie…”

He exhaled her name softly, and she paused, concerned she might have hurt him.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Better than okay,” was his rumbling response.

“Can I continue?”

“Only if you want to.”

“I want to,” Elizabeth insisted. “But can I take off your pants?”

He responded by shifting to the side and reaching for the fastener.

“No, let me,” she insisted, brushing his hands away. 

He cooperated as she unzipped his trousers once again and shimmied them off his body along with his shoes and socks. He was left completely nude and Elizabeth grinned to herself at the sight. Oh, how the tables were turned now.

“If you lie down again, I'll finish your back,” she told him.

While he seemed confused, Red returned to facing down on the bed. Without bothering with more lotion, Elizabeth put her hands on his lower back, kneading his muscles gently before working her way further down.

“You know, you probably have the finest ass I have ever seen on a man,” she remarked as she began to fondle his glute muscles.

“Is that so?”

He sounded mildly amused and a bit flattered.

“Of course, it helps that you have your suits so well tailored.”

She moved lower to the backs of his upper thighs, continuing to massage him and keep their skin in constant contact. From his thighs she drifted to his upper calves and finally to his feet. Elizabeth gently massaged first one and then the other, taking time to press her thumbs into his insole and then rub outward, over and over again, until he seemed completely entranced.

Then, she pulled away and regarded his fully nude backside. Leaning forward, she indulged a sudden impulse and nipped him high on the side of his ass.

“Hey now!” he said, immediately pulling himself up off the bed as he turned to look at her.

With an impish grin and a shrug, she justified, “It’s just too delicious to resist.” But as she stalked forward, the red fabric of her dress pooling between her thighs, she added, “Are you ready for me to do your front?”

He stared at her for a moment, looking entirely like a deer caught in the headlights.

“My front?” he repeated dumbly.

“The rest of your massage,” she clarified.

He blinked once before stating succinctly, “Yes.”

Pushing him down to lay on his back, Elizabeth settled her legs on either side of his body as she leaned over him. She could feel the beginning of a fresh erection pressing against her behind, but she gave it no mind as she leaned over, giving him an ample view of her cleavage.

“You’re always so tense,” she said, starting with his shoulders and working her way down his upper arms. The muscles there were lean and strong, evidence of an active lifestyle. She avoided his newest injury other than to briefly check and make sure the stitches were holding and the bandage remained in place.

Of course, his chest also bore a fair number of scars. Some of them she recognized from their time together, but many had old stories behind them. Occasionally, when she asked about one in particular, he would relate some wild tale of crime gone wrong resulting in a life-threatening injury. So Elizabeth meted out her questions, always a little anxious whenever he related a near-death experience.

There had been too many of those.

His midsection was not as lean as when they had met, but she did not mind the extra pounds. Red had introduced her to so many wonderful delicacies that she could not begrudge him a delicious meal now and again. Besides, neither of them were as young as they used to be.

Once she had made her way down to place her hands on his tummy, Elizabeth paused. She could feel his erection pressing fully against her now and she smiled as she rubbed enticing against it.

“Here I thought I was helping you wind down,” she teased him. “But I seem to have wound you up again.”

“You don’t know the things you do to me, Lizzie,” he told her with a tone of utter adoration.

He reached for her, but she batted his hands away.

“I told you,” she said, growing serious, “I want to have my way with you tonight.”

“I think you’ve achieved that,” Red stated, lifting his hands to caress her thighs over the fabric of her dress. “Don’t you think it’s my turn?”

She purposely pouted her lips.

“But I wanted to make tonight all about you, Red.”

“Trust me, I have enjoyed everything you’ve done tonight,” he told her with complete sincerity. “But you don’t know what it does to me, seeing you in the throws of passion.”

As if to emphasize his point, he moved his hands up under her dress to touch her bare legs. Then, moving his hands inwards, he pressed his thumbs further until they found her silk panty-covered sex.

“This is my anniversary too, Lizzie,” he reminded her. “Shouldn’t I get a turn having my way with you?”

Reluctantly, she agreed, “I suppose we can take turns.”

“That’s my girl,” he murmured.

And within moments, he had her on her back, pinned to the bed, his lips kissing and nibbling at the base of her throat while his hands occupied themselves with pulling off her panties. She reached for the hem of her dress, but he stopped her.

“Leave it on,” he instructed her, pushing the sleeves over her shoulders so that the considerable V in her neckline revealed both of her pert breasts. And without pause, Red shifted his mouth to give first one and then the other his full attention. Only after several moments, when he had Elizabeth writhing beneath him, her hands gripping his shoulders as she lightly dug her nails into his skin, did he stop long enough to breathe out, “Lizzie…”

Then he moved lower, pulling her closer to him on the bed before diving beneath the fabric of her dress. He started his kisses on the inside of her thigh, just above the knee, but made steady progress up towards her sex.

Elizabeth knew this was one of his favorite aspects of foreplay - going down on her. Early in their relationship, it confused her that he always seemed to initiate oral sex but refused it when she offered it in return. But gradually, she came to learn that he truly enjoyed it. Sometimes, she suspected it had a lot to do with the power dynamic, the absolute domination he was able to exert over her body while keeping himself carefully in control.

“God, Red,” she moaned as his mouth finally found her clit. He licked her with long, slow strokes of the tongue, as though he savored every taste of her. 

One hand clenched the blanket on the bed while the other went automatically to cup the back of his head, her fingertips rubbing against his soft, shorn hair. But then remembering his own concerns, how he had not touched her when her mouth was on him, Elizabeth pulled her fingers away.

Even as she moved, his hand grabbed her wrist and gently brought it back, placing her palm back against his scalp. He pressed her hand firmly against him, a soft and careful reassurance that he wanted her there.

Elizabeth took in twin lungs of air as he renewed his attention to her core, continuing to build and drive within her a maelstrom of sensation. He was a master of this craft, and she knew it would only be a matter of minutes before he had her screaming out his name. But before then, she wanted to savor every moment, to try and think of ways to make him desire her as much as she desired him. 

God, it felt good, the way he played her like an instrument with his tongue and lips. Raymond Reddington was an accomplished lover, she had to admit, and Elizabeth wondered if anyone had ever left his bedroom unsatisfied. But even as she accepted his attention, she worried. 

She knew he loved her. That was a fact beyond question.

What she concerned herself with was the doubt of whether his self esteem, or critical lack thereof, allowed him to truly accept her love in return. Because for a man so self possessed and sure of himself in the business and criminal realms, with her, Red seemed unable to reconcile himself as worthy of her affection.

Before she could analyze the situation more, Elizabeth’s body climaxed, all of her muscles tensing as a tidal wave of pleasure overtook her, sending shockwaves through her nerves as she clung to Red in desperation. He always did this to her, made her come at the most inopportune moments, well before she’d had a chance…

Elizabeth’s thoughts melted away as she looked down into his green eyes, his impossibly blond eyelashes fading away against his light skin. He stared up at her with such intensity that she blushed anew, unable to reconcile his expression with the ordinariness of her body, her person. He was the Concierge of Crime, for god’s sake, and she was nothing more than a run-of-the-mill FBI profiler.

And yet, when he looked at her, she felt like the crown jewels. Like a priceless Rembrandt, stolen and stolen and stolen again. 

“How do you do that?” she complained aloud, feeling both satiated and further aflame with desire, desperate for more.

“What’s wrong, Lizzie?” he asked her in return, shifting to look up at her face. “Have you been left so unsatisfied?”

They both knew that to be untrue. But Elizabeth wanted more. She was tired of her body being the playing field and always acquiescing when Red had scored more goals than she could endure. 

“Oh, to the contrary,” she said, rallying herself to defy him. “I’m beyond satisfied… physically. What I want is parity.”

He paused, his attention momentarily diverted as he processed her words. “You want…” he began, and she interrupted.

“It’s my turn, Red.”

The words dropped from her mouth like demands. And Red froze in place, his mouth slightly open as he considered her insistence.

Before he could offer any resistance, Elizabeth locked her mouth with his, kissing him hard and insistent. She rubbed herself against him fully, enjoying the way her body enticed his, until a questing hand found his erection. He felt hot and hard in her palm as she grasped him, and Red shuddered as she rubbed her hand up and down his quivering flesh.

“Please,” he whispered in desperation. “I want you, Lizzie. Let me have you. Please.”

She had thought to take him in her mouth again, to feel the way he resisted her so desperately. But as she listened to his pleas, Elizabeth knew she had to take mercy on him. With a smile, she pushed him to lie back down as she moved to mount him.

Bunching her dress up around her waist, Elizabeth pressed her sex to his waiting cock, guiding it firmly within her until they united in an ecstasy of passion. 

“God, Red,” she breathed aloud as she settled him completely within her core.

Elizabeth began to ride him, hard and fast. She bucked against him with deep, careful movements as she used his cock to hit her inner crevasses. He felt incredible, the sense of fullness he gave her only paralleled by the expression of devilish enjoyment on his face. 

He reached up one hand to caress her breast, and Elizabeth leaned into his touch even as she continued to grind hard on his cock. With his other hand, Red found his way beneath her skirt and began to rub slow circles around her clit. The sensation caused her to clench even tighter around him, and they both gasped in response.

“I'm close, Lizzie,” he said in warning.

She was close as well, and she wanted them both to find their pleasure. Adding her fingers atop his to put more pressure on her clit, Elizabeth continued thrusting, bringing herself down on him harder and faster. 

He answered her efforts by thrusting upwards, meeting her movement for movement, escalating both of their pleasure until he felt Elizabeth orgasm around his aching cock. She paused just slightly before grinding into him to prolong her pleasure. 

“God, Red…” she gasped.

The intensity of her movements were enough to push Red over the edge, and she felt him come inside her. His expression betrayed the rush of their shared ecstacy as his hands moved to hold her tight against him. With a few more deep thrusts, he finally lay spent on the bed just gazing up at her.

* * *

They lay together in bed, a tangle of naked limbs, both of them completely exhausted.

“That was… amazing,” Elizabeth observed.

“Amazing,” he said, analyzing the word. “Yes, that seems appropriate.”

Raising an eyebrow, Elizabeth demanded, “Would you prefer mind-blowing? Maybe life-altering?”

He chuckled at her word choices.

“I think you're amazing,” he told her frankly. Then he added, “Thank you for letting me have my turn.”

“Was that your turn?” she asked, her voice teasing. “It certainly felt like mine.”

“I know you wanted to do… something else.”

It was as if he had read her mind. Elizabeth had wanted to take him in her mouth again, if for no other reason to prove to him that she did not find it distasteful and that he shouldn't either. But she could not feel disappointed with their shared experience.

“Will you let me do that again?” she asked.

For a second, he looked stricken. 

“Tonight?” he asked, his voice reflecting panic. “Lizzie, you know I'm quite a bit older than you. I don't think I-”

“Not tonight,” she assured him quickly. “But sometime soon?”

“Why are you so focused on this?”

“I like seeing you lose control,” she admitted. “And you enjoy it. That’s what you said, right?”

“Yes, Lizzie, but-”

“But what?”

“But what do you get out of it?” he asked, looking at her with a sort of aching sincerity. “And don't turn the question back at me. Pleasuring you is an incredible turn on. Your taste, the way your body responds, the little noises you make… That can't possibly be the same for you-”

Meeting his eyes, Elizabeth pressed a finger to Red's lips to silence him. 

“Not another word about how I couldn't possibly desire you how you desire me,” she scolded. “We are equals in this relationship.”

“I never meant to suggest otherwise-” he began again, but this time she silenced him by pressing her lips to his. 

“Being equal means I get to give you pleasure in return. That means back rubs and blow jobs, Mister Reddington,” she said, partially amused but partially serious.

He smiled at her, his face awash with awe and love as he murmured, “Yes, ma'am, Agent Keen.”

Then he pulled her back to him and kissed her deeply as he tangled his fingers in her hair. He had always been an amazing kisser, throwing as much passion into the activity as he set his mind on, but this kiss drove the breath from her body and made her cling to him all the more. When he finally pulled away from her, it was only to whisper three words.

“Happy anniversary, Lizzie.”

fin