Liz's Nightcap

"What do you really want, Lizzie?" He loomed above the bed, all swagger and style as he cocked his head and stared down at her. His blistering gaze raked over her and Liz fumbled to say something—anything. But no words came as he drew closer, eyes trained on her as he climbed atop the bed...

Liz woke with a start, heart pounding as she checked the tiny motel room for any sign of danger. Finding none, she sighed and slicked her damp hair back, still shaken by the dream.

Grabbing a glass of water from the nightstand, she gulped it down and tried to recover. 3:17 AM, read her clock, a testament to her oft-restless nights.

"Get a grip," she sighed, leaning back on the headboard. This was the third time Red cropped up in her dreams, more demanding and sinister than his real-life persona. Both times he'd asked her the same question—both times Liz had no answer, overwhelmed by an ache in her chest that rendered her still.

At first she thought it might've been a repressed memory, some hint of an encounter with Reddington she couldn't remember.

She wasn't convinced. Something in his eye urged her to take action, to answer him with some truth she hadn't yet discovered.

"I want you out of my life," whispered Liz resentfully, sliding out of bed. Venturing to the plain bathroom, she grabbed a towel and wiped the cold sweat from her skin. The full-length mirror showed her sleep-mussed hair and ratty t-shirt.

But that's not what prompted her double take. Instead it was the unmistakeable damp spot in her boyshorts, turning the baby blue fabric navy. She squirmed, suddenly aware of the need that grew between her legs.

Maybe that woke me up, she mused, frowning at the peaks that'd now strained against her shirt. It'd been a while since she'd had any, though her dry spell was self-imposed.

Ressler was always an option—she'd seen the way he watched her. But he was too clean, almost sterile. There were others—guys at bars, the businessman that'd asked her out at her daily coffee shop. Still, no one piqued her interest enough to pursue.

And now, weeks of pent-up frustration had manifested at 3 AM. Annoying as it was, she knew it wasn't going away so she headed back to bed with a singular goal.

Liz slid her shirt up and gasped as the cool air tickled her already-hard nipples. Tweaking one, then the other, she imagined a man's fingers in place of her own, kneading and twisting in formations that made her toes curl.

Her free hand slid down to explore her soft core, fingers flitting over her clit. She bit her lip and let out a soft moan, imagination running wild as this faceless man worked her over in ways she hadn't thought possible, probing with such expertise her back arched.

Liz's hips worked in circles against the fingers that'd entered her. She cried out, mind running wild as she yearned for the warmth and bulk of his body against hers as he pounded her mercilessly. His moans, his fluttering eyes as he brought them dangerously close to release—she wanted it all.

She could almost feel his strokes, her body coiling in on itself with each well-placed thrust. Her body tingled as she teetered on the brink of orgasm—she knew it would be a big one. Wildly, she ran a hand over her taut stomach back up to her nipple and pinched, a face emerging as she came closer to losing it.

Liz seized up, the faceless man all too clear now—the blistering gaze that raked over her, the smug smirk and a silver-tongued "Lizzie" that sounded like a prayer on his lips.

She could hear him clear as day.

"Is this what you wanted, Lizzie? You wanted me to ruin you?"

"Oh shit, y-yes—Red!" she shouted, convulsing as she rode the waves. Her eyes flew open as she imagined him moaning for her, fucking her savagely as he whispered filthy things in her ear.

Wanton shivers wracked her spine as the last of her fit subsided, leaving her a drenched mess. Regaining her senses, she shook her head clear, the realization slapping her in the face.

Rolling her eyes, Liz stared at the ceiling equal parts frustration and annoyance.

"Oh shit...Red." She turned over with a huff, too spent to even begin overthinking her little episode. However, she knew for sure that she'd found the cure for her sleepless nights, Freudian or not.

A/N: Finally getting around to watching S2 and I couldn't get that dream scene out of my head. Lemme know what you guys thought and I may write a few more.

~L.L.