The Best (and Only) Kept Secret in Neptune (3/4)-Lit_chick08
Fic Title: The Best (And Only) Kept Secret in Neptune (3/4)
Author: lit_chick08
Rating: NC-17 for language and sexuality
Word Count: 7940
Pairing: LoVe with non-explicit VD and Logan/Lilly
Spoilers: Season 1 but especially “Clash of the Tritons”
Summary: After hearing of Lynn Echolls’s suicide, Veronica goes to Logan and, for once, secrets are revealed.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, I get no money for this, and suing me would be pointless
A/N: written for loveathons Epic Challenge. This section is set between “Clash of the Tritons” and “Lord of the Bling”. So much love to my beta, taken_with_you, who helped me break through my block and plot this out at 3 AM.
Previous parts can be found here: http://total-fangirl.livejournal.com/8169.html
For as much as Veronica absolutely adored her father, she couldn’t deny that she enjoyed alone time in their apartment. Despite the fact that most of the town detested her and rarely did anyone actually speak to her, she still needed quiet time, especially after being falsely arrested for forging IDs, being locked into the trunk of her own car, and hearing everyone’s deep dark secrets when it came to Lilly.
Secrets seemed to be the only constant in Neptune. Everyone had them, everyone kept them, and rarely did any one reveal them, but when they did, it was always explosive. Some days it seemed like the only reason that some were coming out was because of Lilly’s murder. After all, if it hadn’t been for her death, Veronica never would’ve gone to see Abel Koontz, who had dropped the biggest bomb of her life. Did Lilly know that Jake might also be Veronica’s father? Had she laughed when she found out, knowing the kisses and touches that her best friend and brother had exchanged? Had she reveled in the idea of the fall-out that it could cause, the humiliation that would fill Celeste, the pain that it would cause Keith Mars?
Lilly had always loved drama, loved causing it even more.
But Veronica didn’t want to think about Lilly tonight. In fact, tonight she wanted to pretend that the Kane family didn’t even exist. She had spent the better part of 2 years trying to figure out the siblings Kane, to figure out why it was that Duncan had so casually discarded her and continued to play hot and cold, to try to understand why it was that Lilly managed to be her best friend and worst enemy all at the same time. Veronica was sick of headaches and tears and constant analysis that never seemed to get her anywhere. No, tonight, all Veronica Mars wanted was to cuddle up on her couch with her faithful pitbull, eat massive amounts of Rocky Road ice cream and trying to find something to watch that was not a reality show.
She had just settled into an episode of Alias, happily drooling over Michael Vartan’s abs, when the program cut out and went to the local Neptune newscaster. Ignoring him, she was half off of the couch, prepared to locate the tube of Pringles she had spotted in the cupboard when she heard, “In late breaking news, it has been confirmed that the abandoned car on the Coronado Bridge, did, in fact, belong to Lynn Echolls, wife of Oscar winner Aaron Echolls. Sheriff Don Lamb has released a statement that a suicide note was found within the Dodge Viper, along with an empty bottle of Valium. No body has been recovered, but rescue workers believe that there is no way that Echolls could have survived the fall. Lynn Echolls was the star of several teen flicks in the 1980s-“
Lynn Echolls was dead.
Logan’s mom was dead.
She had seen Lynn earlier today at school. There was something about Lynn that made it impossible to miss her. Maybe it was the fact that she always wore expensive, tailored clothing even to soccer games; it could’ve been the insane amount of collagen that she had pumped into her lips in the past few years in a desperate attempt to look like the starlet she had once been; perhaps it was even the way she always seemed to be unsteady on her feet and had a bad habit of tripping. No matter what it was, she was still the only adult woman in the 09er neighborhood that took the time to acknowledge that Veronica existed.
Just this morning, when she was headed towards the office with Logan at her side, she had seen Veronica at her locker digging for her history book and had stopped to ask Veronica how she was doing. Logan had pointedly ignored her, pretending that she didn’t exist, but Lynn talked to her as if Veronica had never stopped coming to their house, as if she had just come home from the club and found Veronica in the living room with Lilly, Duncan, and Logan, laughing and being blissfully ignorant to the troubles that were about to descend upon them.
It wasn’t until she felt Backup’s rough tongue against her cheek that she realized she was crying. She had never been close to Lynn Echolls, had found the way she let Aaron abuse their son disgraceful, but she had never wanted her to die. It seemed as if in Neptune that people always left the world abruptly with no fair warning.
They were flashing pictures of Lynn’s Viper on the bridge, a wedding picture of Aaron and Lynn that had run in People magazine over 20 years ago, a cheap headshot of Trina, looking overly made up, and finally one of Logan that Veronica recognized from his dresser.
It had been taken at the fundraiser his parents had sponsored for the Pediatric AIDS foundation, the one that he had insisted she, Duncan, and Lilly be allowed to attend. Jake and Celeste had sent a contribution but were unable to attend because they were skiing in Aspen with their children; Veronica had felt horribly uncomfortable all night in the gown she had borrowed from her best friend and had self-consciously sipped champagne with Logan, who had told her she was beautiful and brushed a kiss against her mouth before she left. It had been after that night on the beach, and she had wondered if she had made a mistake by never telling Lilly.
Logan.
He had been so close to his mother. With Aaron being the abusive asshole that he was and Trina being desperately in love with herself, Lynn had been the only one in that family that even bothered to care about him. He was going to need someone tonight, and she knew that there was no chance that an 09er would traverse to the Echolls mansion tonight. Even Duncan would avoid going. Veronica knew that Duncan was not good with emotion, especially grief, and he would only go to Logan when he was sure that he was healing so as not to have to deal with the mess.
If Veronica could appreciate irony tonight, she would have laughed at the way she forever seemed to be cleaning up the messes that the Kane siblings had no problem walking away from.
Of course, bathing in acid was a more appealing option than going to Logan right now. Ever since that disastrous night in the Echolls pool house when she had melted down and fled, she and Logan had tried to limit all interaction. It had been so humiliating for her on so many levels. She really had wanted to make love with Logan that night; if there was anything she didn’t doubt about that night, it was that. Sure, her judgment wasn’t the greatest when it came to him, but she had known that, underneath everything, he cared about her.
But if she had known that she’d flash back like that, if she had known that the bastard who had raped her at Shelley’s party would ruin what should’ve been a beautiful moment between her and Logan, making her seem like a psychotic tease, she never would’ve let it go that far.
As desperately as she wanted to find out who had violated her last year, she didn’t want anyone to know her secret shame.
Shoving her feet back into the boots that her father often teased her about, she knew that what she felt didn’t much matter tonight. Logan’s mother had died today and that far outweighed any discomfort going might cause her. God knew that she had wished someone had extended her the same courtesy when her mother had left, and, while Logan had mocked her mother’s departure, Veronica was not Logan.
No, she was going to be a friend to him even if it killed her.
And, in Neptune, it just might.
* * *
Every media outlet on the West Coast was parked outside the gates of the Echolls mansion, cameras pointed at the house, excited reporters trying to squawk louder than their counterparts when Aaron Echolls stepped into the pool of brightness that was cast by the floodlights positioned atop the pillars at the end of the driveway. For a grieving husband he looked remarkably well, not even a hint of red to his eyes, his skin glowing with vitality, hair perfectly coiffed. When he began to speak, the words sounding practiced, Veronica couldn’t help but be sucked in for a moment. If there was one thing that the child abusing has-been was good at, it was putting on a show.
Knowing that there was no way she was going to be able to get the Le Baron into the driveway, she parked it on the side of the road, making her way through the throng of reporters, hoping that Aaron would let her through the iron gates. After being rudely elbowed by Mary Hart and a hand squeezing her butt-she was sure that was Pat O’Brien-she managed to reach the front of the pack of leeches. The moment that Aaron saw her, he moved forward, shocking her when he pulled her into a tight hug that caused the flashbulbs to explode in a frenzy.
Voice choked up with emotion, sounding as if he was delivering one of those cheesy monologues from a straight-to-video movie he had done, he announced, “This is Veronica Mars, a good friend of my son Logan. I’m so glad that you could be here in our family’s time of need.”
Her hatred of paparazzi had gone into full bloom after Lilly’s murder, and that hadn’t changed at all. When they began to yell questions about her father and Abel Koontz, she asked Aaron, “Can I go up to the house?”
Clasping a strong hand on her shoulder, he nodded. “Of course. Logan’s in his room. He’s taking this…pretty hard.”
Grateful to be free of his grasp, Veronica hurried up the driveway that was longer than some streets in Neptune. Once upon a time the vastness of this place, the sheer gaudiness of it and the glamour of the people that lived here had fascinated her. Now, Veronica saw it for what it was: a house built with money that had never done anyone any good, a family that was contingent upon keeping their secrets and no one ever finding out that their heroes were alcoholics and abusers.
This was where Logan had grown-up and it wasn’t hard to see why he had ended up the way he did.
The house was eerily quiet, only a single light on in the living room, but Veronica could find her way upstairs even if she was blind. She had been here almost as much as she had been at the Kane mansion, and she had spent many hours in junior high kicking Logan’s ass at Play Station. With her eyes closed she knew that once she hit the top of the stairs that she’d turn left, and it was the second door on the right.
Her knock was light but seemed to echo in the cavernous silence. After several knocks, she touched the doorknob and found the room to be locked, undoubtedly to keep Aaron from dragging him out to publicize his grief. Trying to force her mind away from the lock pick that she had within her bag, she took a deep breath and called, “Logan, it’s Veronica. I want…I’m just gonna stay out here in case you need to talk. I’ll be right here.”
Keeping her back to the smooth wood of his door, she slid to the floor, her knees bent before her, eyes closed. She wasn’t a patient person, didn’t like waiting in tense situations; Veronica was a woman of action and inaction was painful.
Veronica heard the tumble of the lock only a moment before she spilled backwards at Logan’s feet, staring up at him from the expensive, plush carpeting that covered his floor. He seemed like a giant as he stood over her clad only in a pair of worn drawstring pants, his chest bare, eyes so bloodshot with tears that it made her want to cry.
As she hurried to her feet, he gruffly asked, “Why are you here?”
Suddenly feeling as if she was intruding, she fumbled for a moment, the way she had done when she was fourteen and Lilly had pinned her with that same gaze. Finally, she managed, “I thought you might need a friend.”
“Then I repeat: why are you here?”
On any other day, Veronica would’ve replied with a biting comment of her own, but even she had a higher tolerance for bastardry when a parent died. “I didn’t think you should be alone.”
Turning his back to her, revealing the light dribbles of scar tissue left over from one of Aaron’s beatings, the ones he lied about and said were from a bike accident, he snapped, “Well, I don’t really feel like a case of blue balls tonight, but when I do, I’ll give you a call.”
Oh, that hurt. Even with her new thick skin she couldn’t help but flinch, grateful that he couldn’t see how the blow had landed and done its damage. She knew he was hurting right now, but she didn’t want to be mocked for Christmas, not when she still cried for being unable to follow through that night.
“Look, Logan, I know that you’re upset and I understand-“
“You understand?” he echoed, sarcasm dripping from every syllable. “What do you understand, Veronica?! My mother is dead! How can you understand that?!”
“My mom-“
“Your mom took off! She didn’t die; she bailed! It’s not the same thing!”
God, he was batting a thousand tonight, hitting every open wound her heart had.
“Maybe not,” she acknowledged, her own voice getting thick, “but I know what it’s like to just have someone be gone without saying goodbye, without ever knowing why it happened or what you could’ve done to fix it. I know what it’s like to…to wonder if it was your fault, that you might’ve contributed to her leaving.” Slowly moving towards him, she softly added, “I know what it’s like to wish that you’d gone too.”
Turning towards her, his dark eyes glistening with tears, he hissed, “I don’t want to talk about this with you.”
“Then who are you going to talk about it with? Somehow I don’t think Dick is going to be the most empathetic person.”
“Why should it be you?” he countered. “I trusted you last time, I opened up, and you just took off and wouldn’t even talk to me afterward! Give me one reason why I should trust you again, Veronica!”
“You can trust me,” she insisted.
“Why? You made it perfectly clear you don’t trust me.” The pain in his eyes became more acute, anger flickering beneath the surface, mixed in with the pain of losing his mother and the rejection he had felt. “I actually thought you felt something for me; I thought that things would be different after that. But you…you played me even better than Lilly ever did. You should be proud of yourself.”
“I didn’t play you and I’m not like Lilly! You don’t understand-“
“No, I understand perfectly.” Flopping back onto his unmade bed, the mauve comforter so out of place in this room, he declared, “You think that you’re different from the rest of us, above us, that you understand everything better, but when push comes to shove, you go right back to being Lilly Kane’s shadow.” Taking a long swallow from the bottle of Jack Daniels on his nightstand, he gave her a dismissive wave. “I don’t have time for another mind fucker.”
The tears that had been simmering under the surface suddenly broke free, fat saltwater drops cascading down her face. She felt as if he had just stripped her bare, leaving her for the whole world to see, and even if she knew he was just doing it because he was hurt, it didn’t make it better or easier.
“I’m not like that,” she swore, voice raspy with emotion. “You know I’m not like that. If I was, why would I be here?”
Tiredly, he lowered his head to the pillow, closing his eyes. “I don’t know why you’re here, but I know that you shouldn’t be. Unless you want to tell me why you bailed last time, we have nothing to talk about.”
Quid pro quo, Veronica thought humorlessly as she moved to sit beside him on the bed. A confession for a confession, my feelings for his.
Making sure to keep a careful distance from him, afraid that if she was touching him she would never get the words out, unable to look at him, her whispered words went off like an explosion within the room.
“I was raped.”
It was the first time she had ever spoken it aloud, ever given what had happened a name. When she had tried to report it to Lamb, she had said “assault,” as if that would make the act any less heinous. Afterward, when Lamb had so cruelly ignored her, Veronica had been incapable of saying it. She had been so ashamed, felt so violated that she didn’t even want to acknowledge it. One part of her wanted to know who did it, but the other part of her wanted to deny it had even happened, that someone could have abused her like that and not felt anything wrong with it.
She didn’t want to be damaged goods, and she knew that was how people looked at rape victims.
Logan’s eyes instantly snapped open, his body jerking to an upright position, convinced he had heard her wrong. There was no way he had heard what he thought he did. He didn’t want to have heard what he did.
“What did you say?”
She wished it was easier to say it the second time but it wasn’t. “I was raped.”
“When?”
Studiously avoiding his gaze, she supplied, “Shelley Pomeroy’s party last year. Someone…spiked my drink. I don’t really remember what happened, but when I woke up…I was in bed alone without my underwear and my dress strap was broken.”
Anger burned through his veins then, so sharp and burning that he would’ve killed the perpetrator with his bare hands. “Who?”
The tears were coming quicker now; tears always came easy when she thought about this. “I don’t know. I tried to tell Lamb, but…”
She couldn’t finish her sentence, the agony of Lamb’s humiliation so much worse on top of the violence she had experienced.
Tentatively, Logan reached out a hand, laying it on her shoulder, but she jerked away, too exposed to stand being touched right now. She was shaking harder than she ever had before, and she wished that she had just left and not started down this path. Everything she had read said that rape victims felt lighter after revealing their attacks, but Veronica did not feel relieved; she felt like she had been stripped naked and left in the middle of town for all to judge.
“I left because…because I got scared. I knew you weren’t going to hurt me, but I couldn’t…I kept thinking about…” Angrily wiping at her face, she bit out, “I wasn’t trying to mind fuck you. I didn’t want to hurt you at all. And when you came to me after, I just…panicked.”
Logan wasn’t often left speechless, but there was no other word for this. Only half an hour ago he had been mourning his mother, but right now he couldn’t think of her at all, not when Veronica Mars was crying on his bed, confessing her deepest secret to him because she had wanted to help him in his pain. He had never felt like a bigger jackass in his life, but, at the same time, he felt honored that she had confided in him rather than just walk away.
“Veronica.” He moved towards her slowly, his hand on her shoulder blade feather light, and, in a voice that was barely a whisper, he assured her, “What happened wasn’t your fault. There was nothing you could’ve done to stop it. Whoever did that to you…you were a victim and you didn’t deserve that.”
It was as if a dam had broken inside her as she flung herself into Logan’s shocked embrace, burying her face in his neck as she sobbed. She had wanted-needed-to hear those words so badly in the past year to try to assuage her shame because she had blamed herself. How many times had her father told her to never drink from a cup that she hadn’t poured herself, to never accept a glass of anything from someone she didn’t know? She had been terrified that maybe, because she had been so careless, she had deserved what had happened to her. To hear Logan tell her that it wasn’t was like being absolved of her sins.
Logan had been so drunk at Shelley’s party that he could barely stand, but he remembered Veronica with perfect clarity. She had never been able to handle her alcohol, and, when they had partied together, he had always kept an eye on her, monitoring her intake. It had always been second nature to protect Veronica Mars, and he had thought it would always be like that. But Lilly’s death had changed everything, and that night, when he had seen her at the party, he was irrationally angry at her for being there, for agreeing with her father that it wasn’t Abel Koontz who had killed Lilly, for looking indescribably beautiful in that virginal white dress.
He had been overtaken with jealousy when he had seen her kissing Dick on the couch, Dick’s hands freely wandering over the body that Logan remembered all too well from their night on the beach, and he had written her off then and there. When they had turned her into the salt lick near the pool, he had started to feel uneasy, his conscience tugging at him through the haze of alcohol. Someone had pushed him towards her, and, when he had bent to lick at the salt on her neck, she had stared up at him with those big blue eyes of hers and she had whispered his name, one of her hands reaching up to stroke the side of his face. It was the innocence of the gesture that had struck him, the way she had mistook him for her white knight, and he had felt sick to his stomach that this was what he had become.
And then Duncan had swept her off of the lounge and he hadn’t seen her again. The next time he saw her, she had butchered her long hair, Lilly’s hair, a child’s hair, and she was someone else entirely.
Her tears burned like fire against his neck, and a memory fought its way to the forefront of his brain. It had been his 14th birthday party and Lianne was supposed to pick her up from his house. Everyone had left, and Lynn had offered to take her home, but she insisted that her mom was just late, that she’d wait. She and Logan ended up watching an episode of Saturday Night Live, Veronica unable to even crack a smile, and Logan had kept a protective arm around her shoulders. When Lianne had showed up, she was so drunk that she fell out of the car and passed out in the driveway. Lynn had called Keith at the station and Veronica had just sobbed in Logan’s arms, pressing her face into his collar, wanting him to save her. He had just stood there, no words coming, until Keith arrived, scooping her up, thanking Lynn, and wishing Logan a happy birthday.
Logan Echolls had never been anyone’s hero, and whenever he had the opportunity, he had always fucked it up.
He moved against his headboard, Veronica curled up in his lap, gently rocking her, soothing her. Seeing how this was tearing her apart, all he could think about was Duncan pulling her away from them that night, the perennial Boy Scout who had never wavered in his morals, who never would’ve even considered using Veronica as a salt lick, he declared into her hair, “It should’ve been me that night.”
Tears finally stopping, she confessed, “I wish it had been. I wanted…I wanted my first time to be this romantic, bed of roses thing with someone that I loved, that loved me. Whenever I pictured that person’s face, it was always you. I used to cry because it wasn’t.”
It was the worst sort of misinterpretation. He hadn’t wanted her to reveal another part of her heart, hadn’t wanted another secret. How was it that even when he tried to tell her one of his regrets that she still seemed to make him have a whole batch of new ones?
“No, Veronica,” he stammered, almost helplessly, that famous Echolls mouth failing him. “I meant that I should’ve saved you that night, that I should’ve protected you.”
Embarrassment burnt bright enough on her face that it lit up the room. Immediately she pulled away, feeling so mortified that she couldn’t even manage to draw breath. She was scrambling to get away, muttering, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to put you on the spot. You were right. I should go. I don’t belong here.”
Logan sprung forward, cutting her wrist and pulling her back, unthinking that the movement might scare her. He certainly didn’t want to upset her, but he couldn’t let her leave like this, thinking that he didn’t want what she had said.
Veronica’s heart skipped a beat as Logan tugged her back to him, sliding a gentle hand against her cheek, slipping in to tangle in her loose blonde locks. Resting his forehead against hers, he softly requested, “Don’t apologize. You don’t ever have to apologize for that. I wish I had been your first too. I would’ve showed you…It’s not a bad thing to wish it would’ve been good for you.”
She wasn’t sure how comforting him had turned into comforting her, but she had forgotten how sweet Logan could be, how he had an uncanny ability for insightfulness that rivaled her own. And what he was saying was like a balm to her poor, battered soul.
“Logan…”
When no other words came, Logan said, “No matter what bullshit we put each other through, you’re still the best friend I have, Veronica. I just want to keep you safe.”
“You don’t have to-“
Pressing a finger against her lips, stilling her words, he asked, “Why won’t you let me?”
“I’m afraid,” she admitted.
Startled, Logan pressed, “Of me?”
Veronica minutely shook her head. “Of me.”
“Why?”
“Because what if you can’t? What if I’m too… ruined-“
He silenced her with a kiss, long, sweet, and surprisingly chaste. Logan had always had a way of devouring her mouth, but tonight his kiss was as tentative as could be, his hands not embarking on a quest for her curves, his tongue staying inside his mouth. This was a kiss of comfort, a reassurance wrapped in a promise and Veronica could’ve wept at the sincerity behind it.
Cupping her face in his hands, he ordered against her lips, “Don’t ever say that. You’re perfect just like this.”
After what had happened at his parents’ Christmas party, Veronica had swore to herself that she would never kiss Logan Echolls again, that she would erase that part of her life, that it had been a well-intentioned but badly executed attempt at solace. She had promised herself that she would never again agree to anything sexual with Logan no matter how sweet he was to her just because she was in love with the man he had once been. The Logan she had loved and the Logan who now existed were two different people, and Veronica had needed to learn to make that distinction.
She had made that distinction tonight, and she knew that she had made a promise to herself that she had no intention of keeping.
Her kiss was not tentative; it was hungry and desperate and consumed Logan with its passion. She had never taken charge like this before. Duncan had liked her submissive, his bubble gum princess with the unspoiled purity, and her previous couplings with Logan had always made her feel unsure of herself and her sexuality.
He tasted like whiskey and sorrow; she tasted of chocolate ice cream and tears. As he allowed her to push him onto his back, her tiny body resting atop his bare chest, he stared up at her in fascination. He thought that he had seen every side of Veronica Mars, but this one was new. This wasn’t the girl he had had a crush on, the innocent he had fooled around with on the beach, the angry girl that had planted a bong in his locker, or even the victim that he had seen only moments before. This Veronica was no shrinking violet but she wasn’t the sex kitten that Lilly had been. No, this Veronica was a woman who was taking back something that had been stolen from her, that was claiming what she wanted.
His skin was scalding hot beneath her palms as she trailed them over his torso. She had never gotten the chance to explore him like this before, to take her time, and even though she knew that most of the free press and his father were outside, she didn’t care.
For the first time since they had begun their illicit interludes, Veronica didn’t feel shamed for desiring him, for wanting to touch and be touched by him.
She kissed his cheeks, his chin, down his neck, lightly sucked on his collarbone. Logan purred in enjoyment, moving his head in an attempt to direct her to where he wanted her mouth. He was fighting to not roll her over, to resist the powerful urge to thrust his burgeoning erection into the softness hidden between her thighs. The last thing he wanted to do was cause her to panic again, to ruin something that should be beautiful and convince her that it would never be good.
“I don’t understand you,” she confessed against his chest, planting tiny kisses around his nipple before taking it between her teeth, startling him at her forwardness.
“Ah!” he cried out before panting, “What’s to understand?”
“Sometimes you’re this total bastard that I can’t even stand to be in the same room with. But then there are times when…when I never want to leave you.” Pressing a trail of kisses down the meridian of his body, she stated, “I never know how I’m gonna feel about you, if I’m gonna kiss you or kill you.”
Trembling at the feel of her breath misting across his lower abdomen, he shakily replied, “Feeling’s mutual.”
Playfully, as if to alleviate the cloud of pain that hung over both of them, she darted her tongue into his bellybutton, prompting him to jerk up, his erection now standing tall and poking her between her breasts. He urged her up, forcing her away from the part of his body that wanted so desperately to be buried within hers, and kissed her with every ounce of passion he felt for her. Confused, Veronica pulled away, doubt flooding her eyes, and she asked, “What’s wrong?”
His hands played gently with the hem of her T-shirt, not pushing but asking. Veronica silently raised her arms, and he removed it with ease. He didn’t go to her bra as she had expected, but instead began to kiss ever inch of her skin, startling with her neck and working his way down to the cup of her bra. When he reached it, his tongue traced the edge of the purple lace, his hands stroking the length of her back. Her nipples were painfully erect, tight and demanding attention, and she was prepared to beg him to touch them, to take off her bra and do whatever he wanted, when he surprised her by taking one into his mouth, rubbing his tongue against it through the lace. The sensation was unfamiliar but incredibly exciting, and she moaned, her hands flying to his head to hold him more firmly against her.
He moved to her left breast, lapping at the peak before lightly worrying it with his teeth, and Veronica squealed, panting out, “Logan, please!”
With a smile that was pure self-satisfaction, his hands moved to the front clasp of her bra, and he slowly unhooked it, acutely aware of Veronica’s eyes watching him. When it sprung open and her breasts seemed to pour forth into his hands, he lightly squeezed them, announcing, “These are world class breasts.”
Veronica wanted to contradict him, to tell him they were too small, not perky enough, not firm the way they were supposed to be, but she couldn’t, not when he was looking at her like she was an angel come to earth, nothing but desire and admiration in his eyes.
She laid back, her head at the foot of the bed, splayed out before him, her hair framing her face in a way that was simultaneously innocent and erotic. Her skin was tinted pink with arousal, her nipples damp from his mouth, her hips minutely bucking up to meet an imaginary lover’s thrusts, and Logan had never wanted anyone more in that moment.
He moved over her slowly, giving her time to prepare, and when he was, he spent several long minutes just kissing her, acquainting her with their position. When he felt her short nails skim down his back, he knew she was ready and slowly he began to slide down her body much in the same way she had done. He stopped at her breasts, making sure not to leave one inch un-kissed or touched before pressing wet, open mouthed kisses to her stomach. She made a noise that was somewhere between a mewl and a cry, and she sighed, “God, Logan, I need-“
“What do you need? I’ll give you anything.”
He felt her blush, the heat causing her skin to warm even further. As his fingers casually slid along the inside of her waistband, not venturing downward, just playing with the sensitive skin there, Veronica panted, “You know!”
Logan knew that he probably shouldn’t play with her like this, not when she had revealed something so personal before, but there was something endearing in her purity. He would never leave her unfulfilled, but he was still a 17-year-old boy, and he wanted to hear her say the words.
As if to give her the inspiration to verbalize her needs, he popped open the button of her jeans but did not lower the zipper. “What do I know?”
Tears of frustration burning in her eyes, the tension between her legs becoming unbearable, she blushingly informed him, “I need…I need…I need to come, Logan.”
If his control were worse, he would’ve come right then and there, her words enough to tip him over the edge. But there was no way he was going to become the premature ejaculation sensation before he even got her pants off. If he had to embarrass himself, he wanted one of them to, at least, be naked.
She lifted her hips to assists him in freeing her of her jeans, leaving her clad only in a pair of string bikini panties with stars decorating them. He sat back on his heels to really look at her, to bask in her beauty, and he stilled her hands when she moved to cover herself.
Gently moving her arms away from her body, he assured her, “You’re beautiful, Veronica. You don’t need to hide.”
“You’re just staring,” she said, a touch of defensiveness creeping into her tone.
“I won’t stare anymore,” he vowed, moving back to her stomach, drawing designs with the tip of his tongue. “I’ll be too busy.”
It was the subtext rather than the words that made Veronica quiver, and she pushed everything out of her mind but him. There was no rape, no Lynn, no year of bad blood. Right now, all there was, was Logan, who was currently moving aside the strings of her underwear to nip at her hipbones.
“Logan, please!”
Taking pity on her, Logan carefully slid the underwear down her legs, tossing them over his shoulder. He idly wonders if she remembers leaving that pair from Christmas; he’ll never tell her that he kept them.
Veronica gasped as he began to kiss his way up her right leg, the kisses becoming deeper and wetter at the inside of her thigh. She’s torn between embarrassment and arousal; no one has ever done this to her before. Duncan had heavily hinted at wanting to receive oral sex but never mentioned giving it; she and Troy had only gone as far as some over the bra action; she and Logan had gone from touching to attempting sex that she hadn’t even thought about it.
Now, as Logan urged her to bend her legs, seemingly framing his body, Veronica wasn’t sure whether to let him do this or to run away and check into a convent. Grandma Mars had always wanted her to be a nun, to serve the Catholic Church. Maybe she had missed her calling; maybe she wasn’t supposed to be a PI at all but was supposed to serve-
“Jesus Christ!” she screeched at the first touch of Logan’s tongue against her core, sensation whipping through her so fast and hard that she felt as if she had been sucker punched.
Logan immediately lifted his head in shock. Veronica had never been incredibly vocal, and Lilly rarely made noise during sex unless it was to mock him. To hear her shout like that immediately made him think that he’d hurt her.
“Are you okay?”
“Don’t stop!” she cried, an undertone of panic threading through her voice.
“You sure?”
She nodded jerkily, pitching her hips up in encouragement. “I’m sure. I won’t yell again. I promise.”
Resituating himself, he smiled. “Be as loud as you want.”
She moaned long in satisfaction as his tongue went back to lapping at her flesh, his hand gently stroking her folds before slipping one finger inside of her. Her inner muscles clenched upon it, massaging it, and Logan could only imagine what it would feel like to be inside her, to feel that tightness grasping around his dick.
“You’re so wet, baby,” he informed her, a bit of awe filling his voice. “I think you like this.”
“Uh-huh,” she grunted, moaning louder as he slid another finger inside her, stretching her sheath a little more. She was unbearably tight; he had forgotten that. It had been so long since he had touched her like this, that he had felt the way her muscles hungrily clamped down upon him.
When he withdrew his fingers, Veronica began to protest but her voice faltered as she felt his tongue slip inside her, lapping at the wetness that was accumulating there. It was something startlingly new, something that felt so good that she didn’t even have time to think about whether it was right or wrong, whether they should be doing this or not.
Logan had imagined doing this to Veronica a few times before, but the actual experience was far more gratifying than his imagination. As he tasted her in the most intimate way that he could, as he felt her fingers twist in his hair, he wanted her to come apart, to feel better than she ever had in her life.
Replacing his fingers, he worked his way up to her previously ignored clit, darting his tongue out to gauge her reaction. He knew that some women were more sensitive than others here, and he did not want this to be painful. She mewled, begging him to continue, and, as his fingers curled inside her, searching for that illusive place inside her, he sipped her swollen clit between his lips and began to suck, his tongue sliding against it.
Veronica screamed in bliss, jerking her hips almost violently, hands keeping Logan firmly against her. She had never felt anything like this before; this made every orgasm she had ever had before feel like pleasant twinges. Logan couldn’t be human; nothing human could invoke this much pleasure in another person.
She had barely recovered her from her first orgasm when his questing fingers found what they were looking for. The moment he touched her g-spot, she cried out again, coming even harder than before, wetness gushing out of her as she sobbed in pleasure. Logan withdrew his hand, and he slid back up her body, cradling her against him as she shivered intermittently with aftershocks. When her breathing finally regulated, she just looked at Logan in disbelief before blurting out, “Thank you.”
Logan grinned, wiping his mouth with the edge of his sheet before brushing his lips against hers. “Thank you.”
With a sleepy smile, she reached down, trying to grasp his straining erection, but he caught her hand, pressed a kiss to her palm.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, self-consciousness filling her face.
“I don’t want anything.”
“But it’s ok. I want to.” Brushing a piece of his hair back from his forehead, she said, “I want to make love to you.”
Logan shook his head. “Not tonight. Tonight, I just want to hold you.”
“But you didn’t come,” she said before blushing brightly.
“This wasn’t about me.” His eyes pleaded with her to understand, to see that this had been his way of apologizing for Shelley’s party, to try to make up for the pain that he could’ve spared her if he had been the type of man she deserved.
Veronica reached for her discarded T-shirt, pulling it over her body before obediently slipping into his arms. He positioned them carefully, so that he was spooning her, and he kissed her hair.
They laid there for several minutes before Logan offered up his confession, the secret he owed her. “He beat her, too, you know. That’s one of my first memories. They had gone to a party, the People’s Choice Awards, and Mom had talked to some director. Aaron thought she was flirting, and the moment they got inside, he backhanded her so hard that she fell over a coffee table. Trina and I were watching some movie, I can’t even remember what, but he didn’t even care. He pulled her up by her hair, called her a whore, and broke her nose.”
“God,” Veronica gasped.
“She started the plastic surgery after that. There was the nose job to fix what he did, the cheek implants after he crushed a cheekbone, the Botox and the lipo and the boob jobs. Collagen was the latest. He has a thing for Angelina Jolie, and Mom thought that if she had bigger lips he’d quit fucking anything in a skirt. When she’d get drunk, she’d tell me that if she could just be what he needed, if she did what she was supposed to do, he wouldn’t be like this. It was always her fault, never his. I used to hate her when she wouldn’t stop him from hitting me, from beating me, but he just would’ve done it anyway and then did her.”
Veronica can hear the trembling in his voice, the tears that have managed to escape as he accuses, “It’s his fault. She might’ve jumped but he’s the one who drove her to it. And I can’t believe…I can’t believe she’d leave me like that. How could she just fucking quit when she knew that he’d keep doing it to me, that he’d probably kill me without her here? How could she be so selfish?”
“Maybe she was just in too much pain,” Veronica lamely offered, stroking the arm that was wrapped around her torso. “Maybe this was the only way she could be free of him.”
“Free of him,” he echoed, the words nagging at his brain as if they meant something significant. “Who wouldn’t want to be free of him?”
“I know that I’m not her, but…I’m here. I won’t let him hurt you anymore.”
He knows the promise is empty, that there’s no way she can promise that, but he appreciates the sentiment. As he buries his face in her hair, they fall asleep, their breath synchronizing as they drift off.
* * *
Light filtered through the windows accompanied by birds singing, and Veronica awoke in a panic. Her father was due back in Neptune at 8 AM, and it’s 7:30. If she didn’t do some serious hauling ass, she was going to be in trouble like she could not comprehend.
Gently moving out of Logan’s grasp, she began to dress in her forgotten clothes, keeping one eye on the clock. Her pants are barely fastened before she hears Logan drowsily query, “Where are you going?”
“Home. My dad’s gonna shit a brick if I’m not there.”
Logan moved out of bed, handing her the bag she had left beside his bed. Carefully, unsure how she’ll react, he kisses her briefly. “I’ll walk you out.”
“You don’t have to-“
“I’m walking you out,” he rephrased, leading her silently through the house.
Her car is where she left it, the news vans blissfully gone after scoring the Aaron interview, likely to surface again at Lynn’s funeral. As Veronica unlocked her car, Logan sighed, “Thank you for last night.”
She looks so young in the morning light, face free of make-up, hair delightfully tousled. “What are friends for?”
The door was open, and she was prepared to climb in when Logan requested, “Please stop running from me.”
Sadness in her voice, she countered, “Please stop making me.”
Pressing a kiss to her forehead, he swore, “Things are going to be different now.”
She wanted to believe him, to listen to his promises. There’s a part of her that prays with everything she has that he will be different and that when they see each other the next time that things won’t be awkward and filled with tension. But Veronica has learned not to expect miracles, so she just kisses him again before going home, beating her father by mere minutes.
* * *
Lynn’s funeral at the Methodist church is packed, and Veronica sits in the back, away from the Hollywood types and 09ers that make up 99.9% of the mourners. Logan and Aaron are in the front pew, the Kanes behind them, and Logan seems more lost than ever.
He and Aaron stand in the receiving line, the only family that Lynn has left, and, when Logan sees her standing there in the same black dress she wore to Lilly’s funeral, something shifts in his eyes. Despite her hatred of him, she offers Aaron her condolences and shakes his hand.
Logan clasped her hand for a moment too long, his grip slightly too tight, as if he were clinging to a life preserver, and he pulls her in, hugging her as he’s done to several other attendees.
“I’m glad you came,” he breathed into her ear. “I needed you today.”
Surprise is not a strong enough word to describe what fills her chest in that moment, but Veronica knows that he was right: everything has changed now. And she knows exactly what has happened, knows it the minute she sees the looks she gets from Logan’s 09er pals, once her friends.
Their relationship, once the best kept secret in Neptune, was starting to not be a secret at all.
Author: lit_chick08
Rating: NC-17 for language and sexuality
Word Count: 7940
Pairing: LoVe with non-explicit VD and Logan/Lilly
Spoilers: Season 1 but especially “Clash of the Tritons”
Summary: After hearing of Lynn Echolls’s suicide, Veronica goes to Logan and, for once, secrets are revealed.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, I get no money for this, and suing me would be pointless
A/N: written for loveathons Epic Challenge. This section is set between “Clash of the Tritons” and “Lord of the Bling”. So much love to my beta, taken_with_you, who helped me break through my block and plot this out at 3 AM.
Previous parts can be found here: http://total-fangirl.livejournal.com/8169.html
For as much as Veronica absolutely adored her father, she couldn’t deny that she enjoyed alone time in their apartment. Despite the fact that most of the town detested her and rarely did anyone actually speak to her, she still needed quiet time, especially after being falsely arrested for forging IDs, being locked into the trunk of her own car, and hearing everyone’s deep dark secrets when it came to Lilly.
Secrets seemed to be the only constant in Neptune. Everyone had them, everyone kept them, and rarely did any one reveal them, but when they did, it was always explosive. Some days it seemed like the only reason that some were coming out was because of Lilly’s murder. After all, if it hadn’t been for her death, Veronica never would’ve gone to see Abel Koontz, who had dropped the biggest bomb of her life. Did Lilly know that Jake might also be Veronica’s father? Had she laughed when she found out, knowing the kisses and touches that her best friend and brother had exchanged? Had she reveled in the idea of the fall-out that it could cause, the humiliation that would fill Celeste, the pain that it would cause Keith Mars?
Lilly had always loved drama, loved causing it even more.
But Veronica didn’t want to think about Lilly tonight. In fact, tonight she wanted to pretend that the Kane family didn’t even exist. She had spent the better part of 2 years trying to figure out the siblings Kane, to figure out why it was that Duncan had so casually discarded her and continued to play hot and cold, to try to understand why it was that Lilly managed to be her best friend and worst enemy all at the same time. Veronica was sick of headaches and tears and constant analysis that never seemed to get her anywhere. No, tonight, all Veronica Mars wanted was to cuddle up on her couch with her faithful pitbull, eat massive amounts of Rocky Road ice cream and trying to find something to watch that was not a reality show.
She had just settled into an episode of Alias, happily drooling over Michael Vartan’s abs, when the program cut out and went to the local Neptune newscaster. Ignoring him, she was half off of the couch, prepared to locate the tube of Pringles she had spotted in the cupboard when she heard, “In late breaking news, it has been confirmed that the abandoned car on the Coronado Bridge, did, in fact, belong to Lynn Echolls, wife of Oscar winner Aaron Echolls. Sheriff Don Lamb has released a statement that a suicide note was found within the Dodge Viper, along with an empty bottle of Valium. No body has been recovered, but rescue workers believe that there is no way that Echolls could have survived the fall. Lynn Echolls was the star of several teen flicks in the 1980s-“
Lynn Echolls was dead.
Logan’s mom was dead.
She had seen Lynn earlier today at school. There was something about Lynn that made it impossible to miss her. Maybe it was the fact that she always wore expensive, tailored clothing even to soccer games; it could’ve been the insane amount of collagen that she had pumped into her lips in the past few years in a desperate attempt to look like the starlet she had once been; perhaps it was even the way she always seemed to be unsteady on her feet and had a bad habit of tripping. No matter what it was, she was still the only adult woman in the 09er neighborhood that took the time to acknowledge that Veronica existed.
Just this morning, when she was headed towards the office with Logan at her side, she had seen Veronica at her locker digging for her history book and had stopped to ask Veronica how she was doing. Logan had pointedly ignored her, pretending that she didn’t exist, but Lynn talked to her as if Veronica had never stopped coming to their house, as if she had just come home from the club and found Veronica in the living room with Lilly, Duncan, and Logan, laughing and being blissfully ignorant to the troubles that were about to descend upon them.
It wasn’t until she felt Backup’s rough tongue against her cheek that she realized she was crying. She had never been close to Lynn Echolls, had found the way she let Aaron abuse their son disgraceful, but she had never wanted her to die. It seemed as if in Neptune that people always left the world abruptly with no fair warning.
They were flashing pictures of Lynn’s Viper on the bridge, a wedding picture of Aaron and Lynn that had run in People magazine over 20 years ago, a cheap headshot of Trina, looking overly made up, and finally one of Logan that Veronica recognized from his dresser.
It had been taken at the fundraiser his parents had sponsored for the Pediatric AIDS foundation, the one that he had insisted she, Duncan, and Lilly be allowed to attend. Jake and Celeste had sent a contribution but were unable to attend because they were skiing in Aspen with their children; Veronica had felt horribly uncomfortable all night in the gown she had borrowed from her best friend and had self-consciously sipped champagne with Logan, who had told her she was beautiful and brushed a kiss against her mouth before she left. It had been after that night on the beach, and she had wondered if she had made a mistake by never telling Lilly.
Logan.
He had been so close to his mother. With Aaron being the abusive asshole that he was and Trina being desperately in love with herself, Lynn had been the only one in that family that even bothered to care about him. He was going to need someone tonight, and she knew that there was no chance that an 09er would traverse to the Echolls mansion tonight. Even Duncan would avoid going. Veronica knew that Duncan was not good with emotion, especially grief, and he would only go to Logan when he was sure that he was healing so as not to have to deal with the mess.
If Veronica could appreciate irony tonight, she would have laughed at the way she forever seemed to be cleaning up the messes that the Kane siblings had no problem walking away from.
Of course, bathing in acid was a more appealing option than going to Logan right now. Ever since that disastrous night in the Echolls pool house when she had melted down and fled, she and Logan had tried to limit all interaction. It had been so humiliating for her on so many levels. She really had wanted to make love with Logan that night; if there was anything she didn’t doubt about that night, it was that. Sure, her judgment wasn’t the greatest when it came to him, but she had known that, underneath everything, he cared about her.
But if she had known that she’d flash back like that, if she had known that the bastard who had raped her at Shelley’s party would ruin what should’ve been a beautiful moment between her and Logan, making her seem like a psychotic tease, she never would’ve let it go that far.
As desperately as she wanted to find out who had violated her last year, she didn’t want anyone to know her secret shame.
Shoving her feet back into the boots that her father often teased her about, she knew that what she felt didn’t much matter tonight. Logan’s mother had died today and that far outweighed any discomfort going might cause her. God knew that she had wished someone had extended her the same courtesy when her mother had left, and, while Logan had mocked her mother’s departure, Veronica was not Logan.
No, she was going to be a friend to him even if it killed her.
And, in Neptune, it just might.
* * *
Every media outlet on the West Coast was parked outside the gates of the Echolls mansion, cameras pointed at the house, excited reporters trying to squawk louder than their counterparts when Aaron Echolls stepped into the pool of brightness that was cast by the floodlights positioned atop the pillars at the end of the driveway. For a grieving husband he looked remarkably well, not even a hint of red to his eyes, his skin glowing with vitality, hair perfectly coiffed. When he began to speak, the words sounding practiced, Veronica couldn’t help but be sucked in for a moment. If there was one thing that the child abusing has-been was good at, it was putting on a show.
Knowing that there was no way she was going to be able to get the Le Baron into the driveway, she parked it on the side of the road, making her way through the throng of reporters, hoping that Aaron would let her through the iron gates. After being rudely elbowed by Mary Hart and a hand squeezing her butt-she was sure that was Pat O’Brien-she managed to reach the front of the pack of leeches. The moment that Aaron saw her, he moved forward, shocking her when he pulled her into a tight hug that caused the flashbulbs to explode in a frenzy.
Voice choked up with emotion, sounding as if he was delivering one of those cheesy monologues from a straight-to-video movie he had done, he announced, “This is Veronica Mars, a good friend of my son Logan. I’m so glad that you could be here in our family’s time of need.”
Her hatred of paparazzi had gone into full bloom after Lilly’s murder, and that hadn’t changed at all. When they began to yell questions about her father and Abel Koontz, she asked Aaron, “Can I go up to the house?”
Clasping a strong hand on her shoulder, he nodded. “Of course. Logan’s in his room. He’s taking this…pretty hard.”
Grateful to be free of his grasp, Veronica hurried up the driveway that was longer than some streets in Neptune. Once upon a time the vastness of this place, the sheer gaudiness of it and the glamour of the people that lived here had fascinated her. Now, Veronica saw it for what it was: a house built with money that had never done anyone any good, a family that was contingent upon keeping their secrets and no one ever finding out that their heroes were alcoholics and abusers.
This was where Logan had grown-up and it wasn’t hard to see why he had ended up the way he did.
The house was eerily quiet, only a single light on in the living room, but Veronica could find her way upstairs even if she was blind. She had been here almost as much as she had been at the Kane mansion, and she had spent many hours in junior high kicking Logan’s ass at Play Station. With her eyes closed she knew that once she hit the top of the stairs that she’d turn left, and it was the second door on the right.
Her knock was light but seemed to echo in the cavernous silence. After several knocks, she touched the doorknob and found the room to be locked, undoubtedly to keep Aaron from dragging him out to publicize his grief. Trying to force her mind away from the lock pick that she had within her bag, she took a deep breath and called, “Logan, it’s Veronica. I want…I’m just gonna stay out here in case you need to talk. I’ll be right here.”
Keeping her back to the smooth wood of his door, she slid to the floor, her knees bent before her, eyes closed. She wasn’t a patient person, didn’t like waiting in tense situations; Veronica was a woman of action and inaction was painful.
Veronica heard the tumble of the lock only a moment before she spilled backwards at Logan’s feet, staring up at him from the expensive, plush carpeting that covered his floor. He seemed like a giant as he stood over her clad only in a pair of worn drawstring pants, his chest bare, eyes so bloodshot with tears that it made her want to cry.
As she hurried to her feet, he gruffly asked, “Why are you here?”
Suddenly feeling as if she was intruding, she fumbled for a moment, the way she had done when she was fourteen and Lilly had pinned her with that same gaze. Finally, she managed, “I thought you might need a friend.”
“Then I repeat: why are you here?”
On any other day, Veronica would’ve replied with a biting comment of her own, but even she had a higher tolerance for bastardry when a parent died. “I didn’t think you should be alone.”
Turning his back to her, revealing the light dribbles of scar tissue left over from one of Aaron’s beatings, the ones he lied about and said were from a bike accident, he snapped, “Well, I don’t really feel like a case of blue balls tonight, but when I do, I’ll give you a call.”
Oh, that hurt. Even with her new thick skin she couldn’t help but flinch, grateful that he couldn’t see how the blow had landed and done its damage. She knew he was hurting right now, but she didn’t want to be mocked for Christmas, not when she still cried for being unable to follow through that night.
“Look, Logan, I know that you’re upset and I understand-“
“You understand?” he echoed, sarcasm dripping from every syllable. “What do you understand, Veronica?! My mother is dead! How can you understand that?!”
“My mom-“
“Your mom took off! She didn’t die; she bailed! It’s not the same thing!”
God, he was batting a thousand tonight, hitting every open wound her heart had.
“Maybe not,” she acknowledged, her own voice getting thick, “but I know what it’s like to just have someone be gone without saying goodbye, without ever knowing why it happened or what you could’ve done to fix it. I know what it’s like to…to wonder if it was your fault, that you might’ve contributed to her leaving.” Slowly moving towards him, she softly added, “I know what it’s like to wish that you’d gone too.”
Turning towards her, his dark eyes glistening with tears, he hissed, “I don’t want to talk about this with you.”
“Then who are you going to talk about it with? Somehow I don’t think Dick is going to be the most empathetic person.”
“Why should it be you?” he countered. “I trusted you last time, I opened up, and you just took off and wouldn’t even talk to me afterward! Give me one reason why I should trust you again, Veronica!”
“You can trust me,” she insisted.
“Why? You made it perfectly clear you don’t trust me.” The pain in his eyes became more acute, anger flickering beneath the surface, mixed in with the pain of losing his mother and the rejection he had felt. “I actually thought you felt something for me; I thought that things would be different after that. But you…you played me even better than Lilly ever did. You should be proud of yourself.”
“I didn’t play you and I’m not like Lilly! You don’t understand-“
“No, I understand perfectly.” Flopping back onto his unmade bed, the mauve comforter so out of place in this room, he declared, “You think that you’re different from the rest of us, above us, that you understand everything better, but when push comes to shove, you go right back to being Lilly Kane’s shadow.” Taking a long swallow from the bottle of Jack Daniels on his nightstand, he gave her a dismissive wave. “I don’t have time for another mind fucker.”
The tears that had been simmering under the surface suddenly broke free, fat saltwater drops cascading down her face. She felt as if he had just stripped her bare, leaving her for the whole world to see, and even if she knew he was just doing it because he was hurt, it didn’t make it better or easier.
“I’m not like that,” she swore, voice raspy with emotion. “You know I’m not like that. If I was, why would I be here?”
Tiredly, he lowered his head to the pillow, closing his eyes. “I don’t know why you’re here, but I know that you shouldn’t be. Unless you want to tell me why you bailed last time, we have nothing to talk about.”
Quid pro quo, Veronica thought humorlessly as she moved to sit beside him on the bed. A confession for a confession, my feelings for his.
Making sure to keep a careful distance from him, afraid that if she was touching him she would never get the words out, unable to look at him, her whispered words went off like an explosion within the room.
“I was raped.”
It was the first time she had ever spoken it aloud, ever given what had happened a name. When she had tried to report it to Lamb, she had said “assault,” as if that would make the act any less heinous. Afterward, when Lamb had so cruelly ignored her, Veronica had been incapable of saying it. She had been so ashamed, felt so violated that she didn’t even want to acknowledge it. One part of her wanted to know who did it, but the other part of her wanted to deny it had even happened, that someone could have abused her like that and not felt anything wrong with it.
She didn’t want to be damaged goods, and she knew that was how people looked at rape victims.
Logan’s eyes instantly snapped open, his body jerking to an upright position, convinced he had heard her wrong. There was no way he had heard what he thought he did. He didn’t want to have heard what he did.
“What did you say?”
She wished it was easier to say it the second time but it wasn’t. “I was raped.”
“When?”
Studiously avoiding his gaze, she supplied, “Shelley Pomeroy’s party last year. Someone…spiked my drink. I don’t really remember what happened, but when I woke up…I was in bed alone without my underwear and my dress strap was broken.”
Anger burned through his veins then, so sharp and burning that he would’ve killed the perpetrator with his bare hands. “Who?”
The tears were coming quicker now; tears always came easy when she thought about this. “I don’t know. I tried to tell Lamb, but…”
She couldn’t finish her sentence, the agony of Lamb’s humiliation so much worse on top of the violence she had experienced.
Tentatively, Logan reached out a hand, laying it on her shoulder, but she jerked away, too exposed to stand being touched right now. She was shaking harder than she ever had before, and she wished that she had just left and not started down this path. Everything she had read said that rape victims felt lighter after revealing their attacks, but Veronica did not feel relieved; she felt like she had been stripped naked and left in the middle of town for all to judge.
“I left because…because I got scared. I knew you weren’t going to hurt me, but I couldn’t…I kept thinking about…” Angrily wiping at her face, she bit out, “I wasn’t trying to mind fuck you. I didn’t want to hurt you at all. And when you came to me after, I just…panicked.”
Logan wasn’t often left speechless, but there was no other word for this. Only half an hour ago he had been mourning his mother, but right now he couldn’t think of her at all, not when Veronica Mars was crying on his bed, confessing her deepest secret to him because she had wanted to help him in his pain. He had never felt like a bigger jackass in his life, but, at the same time, he felt honored that she had confided in him rather than just walk away.
“Veronica.” He moved towards her slowly, his hand on her shoulder blade feather light, and, in a voice that was barely a whisper, he assured her, “What happened wasn’t your fault. There was nothing you could’ve done to stop it. Whoever did that to you…you were a victim and you didn’t deserve that.”
It was as if a dam had broken inside her as she flung herself into Logan’s shocked embrace, burying her face in his neck as she sobbed. She had wanted-needed-to hear those words so badly in the past year to try to assuage her shame because she had blamed herself. How many times had her father told her to never drink from a cup that she hadn’t poured herself, to never accept a glass of anything from someone she didn’t know? She had been terrified that maybe, because she had been so careless, she had deserved what had happened to her. To hear Logan tell her that it wasn’t was like being absolved of her sins.
Logan had been so drunk at Shelley’s party that he could barely stand, but he remembered Veronica with perfect clarity. She had never been able to handle her alcohol, and, when they had partied together, he had always kept an eye on her, monitoring her intake. It had always been second nature to protect Veronica Mars, and he had thought it would always be like that. But Lilly’s death had changed everything, and that night, when he had seen her at the party, he was irrationally angry at her for being there, for agreeing with her father that it wasn’t Abel Koontz who had killed Lilly, for looking indescribably beautiful in that virginal white dress.
He had been overtaken with jealousy when he had seen her kissing Dick on the couch, Dick’s hands freely wandering over the body that Logan remembered all too well from their night on the beach, and he had written her off then and there. When they had turned her into the salt lick near the pool, he had started to feel uneasy, his conscience tugging at him through the haze of alcohol. Someone had pushed him towards her, and, when he had bent to lick at the salt on her neck, she had stared up at him with those big blue eyes of hers and she had whispered his name, one of her hands reaching up to stroke the side of his face. It was the innocence of the gesture that had struck him, the way she had mistook him for her white knight, and he had felt sick to his stomach that this was what he had become.
And then Duncan had swept her off of the lounge and he hadn’t seen her again. The next time he saw her, she had butchered her long hair, Lilly’s hair, a child’s hair, and she was someone else entirely.
Her tears burned like fire against his neck, and a memory fought its way to the forefront of his brain. It had been his 14th birthday party and Lianne was supposed to pick her up from his house. Everyone had left, and Lynn had offered to take her home, but she insisted that her mom was just late, that she’d wait. She and Logan ended up watching an episode of Saturday Night Live, Veronica unable to even crack a smile, and Logan had kept a protective arm around her shoulders. When Lianne had showed up, she was so drunk that she fell out of the car and passed out in the driveway. Lynn had called Keith at the station and Veronica had just sobbed in Logan’s arms, pressing her face into his collar, wanting him to save her. He had just stood there, no words coming, until Keith arrived, scooping her up, thanking Lynn, and wishing Logan a happy birthday.
Logan Echolls had never been anyone’s hero, and whenever he had the opportunity, he had always fucked it up.
He moved against his headboard, Veronica curled up in his lap, gently rocking her, soothing her. Seeing how this was tearing her apart, all he could think about was Duncan pulling her away from them that night, the perennial Boy Scout who had never wavered in his morals, who never would’ve even considered using Veronica as a salt lick, he declared into her hair, “It should’ve been me that night.”
Tears finally stopping, she confessed, “I wish it had been. I wanted…I wanted my first time to be this romantic, bed of roses thing with someone that I loved, that loved me. Whenever I pictured that person’s face, it was always you. I used to cry because it wasn’t.”
It was the worst sort of misinterpretation. He hadn’t wanted her to reveal another part of her heart, hadn’t wanted another secret. How was it that even when he tried to tell her one of his regrets that she still seemed to make him have a whole batch of new ones?
“No, Veronica,” he stammered, almost helplessly, that famous Echolls mouth failing him. “I meant that I should’ve saved you that night, that I should’ve protected you.”
Embarrassment burnt bright enough on her face that it lit up the room. Immediately she pulled away, feeling so mortified that she couldn’t even manage to draw breath. She was scrambling to get away, muttering, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to put you on the spot. You were right. I should go. I don’t belong here.”
Logan sprung forward, cutting her wrist and pulling her back, unthinking that the movement might scare her. He certainly didn’t want to upset her, but he couldn’t let her leave like this, thinking that he didn’t want what she had said.
Veronica’s heart skipped a beat as Logan tugged her back to him, sliding a gentle hand against her cheek, slipping in to tangle in her loose blonde locks. Resting his forehead against hers, he softly requested, “Don’t apologize. You don’t ever have to apologize for that. I wish I had been your first too. I would’ve showed you…It’s not a bad thing to wish it would’ve been good for you.”
She wasn’t sure how comforting him had turned into comforting her, but she had forgotten how sweet Logan could be, how he had an uncanny ability for insightfulness that rivaled her own. And what he was saying was like a balm to her poor, battered soul.
“Logan…”
When no other words came, Logan said, “No matter what bullshit we put each other through, you’re still the best friend I have, Veronica. I just want to keep you safe.”
“You don’t have to-“
Pressing a finger against her lips, stilling her words, he asked, “Why won’t you let me?”
“I’m afraid,” she admitted.
Startled, Logan pressed, “Of me?”
Veronica minutely shook her head. “Of me.”
“Why?”
“Because what if you can’t? What if I’m too… ruined-“
He silenced her with a kiss, long, sweet, and surprisingly chaste. Logan had always had a way of devouring her mouth, but tonight his kiss was as tentative as could be, his hands not embarking on a quest for her curves, his tongue staying inside his mouth. This was a kiss of comfort, a reassurance wrapped in a promise and Veronica could’ve wept at the sincerity behind it.
Cupping her face in his hands, he ordered against her lips, “Don’t ever say that. You’re perfect just like this.”
After what had happened at his parents’ Christmas party, Veronica had swore to herself that she would never kiss Logan Echolls again, that she would erase that part of her life, that it had been a well-intentioned but badly executed attempt at solace. She had promised herself that she would never again agree to anything sexual with Logan no matter how sweet he was to her just because she was in love with the man he had once been. The Logan she had loved and the Logan who now existed were two different people, and Veronica had needed to learn to make that distinction.
She had made that distinction tonight, and she knew that she had made a promise to herself that she had no intention of keeping.
Her kiss was not tentative; it was hungry and desperate and consumed Logan with its passion. She had never taken charge like this before. Duncan had liked her submissive, his bubble gum princess with the unspoiled purity, and her previous couplings with Logan had always made her feel unsure of herself and her sexuality.
He tasted like whiskey and sorrow; she tasted of chocolate ice cream and tears. As he allowed her to push him onto his back, her tiny body resting atop his bare chest, he stared up at her in fascination. He thought that he had seen every side of Veronica Mars, but this one was new. This wasn’t the girl he had had a crush on, the innocent he had fooled around with on the beach, the angry girl that had planted a bong in his locker, or even the victim that he had seen only moments before. This Veronica was no shrinking violet but she wasn’t the sex kitten that Lilly had been. No, this Veronica was a woman who was taking back something that had been stolen from her, that was claiming what she wanted.
His skin was scalding hot beneath her palms as she trailed them over his torso. She had never gotten the chance to explore him like this before, to take her time, and even though she knew that most of the free press and his father were outside, she didn’t care.
For the first time since they had begun their illicit interludes, Veronica didn’t feel shamed for desiring him, for wanting to touch and be touched by him.
She kissed his cheeks, his chin, down his neck, lightly sucked on his collarbone. Logan purred in enjoyment, moving his head in an attempt to direct her to where he wanted her mouth. He was fighting to not roll her over, to resist the powerful urge to thrust his burgeoning erection into the softness hidden between her thighs. The last thing he wanted to do was cause her to panic again, to ruin something that should be beautiful and convince her that it would never be good.
“I don’t understand you,” she confessed against his chest, planting tiny kisses around his nipple before taking it between her teeth, startling him at her forwardness.
“Ah!” he cried out before panting, “What’s to understand?”
“Sometimes you’re this total bastard that I can’t even stand to be in the same room with. But then there are times when…when I never want to leave you.” Pressing a trail of kisses down the meridian of his body, she stated, “I never know how I’m gonna feel about you, if I’m gonna kiss you or kill you.”
Trembling at the feel of her breath misting across his lower abdomen, he shakily replied, “Feeling’s mutual.”
Playfully, as if to alleviate the cloud of pain that hung over both of them, she darted her tongue into his bellybutton, prompting him to jerk up, his erection now standing tall and poking her between her breasts. He urged her up, forcing her away from the part of his body that wanted so desperately to be buried within hers, and kissed her with every ounce of passion he felt for her. Confused, Veronica pulled away, doubt flooding her eyes, and she asked, “What’s wrong?”
His hands played gently with the hem of her T-shirt, not pushing but asking. Veronica silently raised her arms, and he removed it with ease. He didn’t go to her bra as she had expected, but instead began to kiss ever inch of her skin, startling with her neck and working his way down to the cup of her bra. When he reached it, his tongue traced the edge of the purple lace, his hands stroking the length of her back. Her nipples were painfully erect, tight and demanding attention, and she was prepared to beg him to touch them, to take off her bra and do whatever he wanted, when he surprised her by taking one into his mouth, rubbing his tongue against it through the lace. The sensation was unfamiliar but incredibly exciting, and she moaned, her hands flying to his head to hold him more firmly against her.
He moved to her left breast, lapping at the peak before lightly worrying it with his teeth, and Veronica squealed, panting out, “Logan, please!”
With a smile that was pure self-satisfaction, his hands moved to the front clasp of her bra, and he slowly unhooked it, acutely aware of Veronica’s eyes watching him. When it sprung open and her breasts seemed to pour forth into his hands, he lightly squeezed them, announcing, “These are world class breasts.”
Veronica wanted to contradict him, to tell him they were too small, not perky enough, not firm the way they were supposed to be, but she couldn’t, not when he was looking at her like she was an angel come to earth, nothing but desire and admiration in his eyes.
She laid back, her head at the foot of the bed, splayed out before him, her hair framing her face in a way that was simultaneously innocent and erotic. Her skin was tinted pink with arousal, her nipples damp from his mouth, her hips minutely bucking up to meet an imaginary lover’s thrusts, and Logan had never wanted anyone more in that moment.
He moved over her slowly, giving her time to prepare, and when he was, he spent several long minutes just kissing her, acquainting her with their position. When he felt her short nails skim down his back, he knew she was ready and slowly he began to slide down her body much in the same way she had done. He stopped at her breasts, making sure not to leave one inch un-kissed or touched before pressing wet, open mouthed kisses to her stomach. She made a noise that was somewhere between a mewl and a cry, and she sighed, “God, Logan, I need-“
“What do you need? I’ll give you anything.”
He felt her blush, the heat causing her skin to warm even further. As his fingers casually slid along the inside of her waistband, not venturing downward, just playing with the sensitive skin there, Veronica panted, “You know!”
Logan knew that he probably shouldn’t play with her like this, not when she had revealed something so personal before, but there was something endearing in her purity. He would never leave her unfulfilled, but he was still a 17-year-old boy, and he wanted to hear her say the words.
As if to give her the inspiration to verbalize her needs, he popped open the button of her jeans but did not lower the zipper. “What do I know?”
Tears of frustration burning in her eyes, the tension between her legs becoming unbearable, she blushingly informed him, “I need…I need…I need to come, Logan.”
If his control were worse, he would’ve come right then and there, her words enough to tip him over the edge. But there was no way he was going to become the premature ejaculation sensation before he even got her pants off. If he had to embarrass himself, he wanted one of them to, at least, be naked.
She lifted her hips to assists him in freeing her of her jeans, leaving her clad only in a pair of string bikini panties with stars decorating them. He sat back on his heels to really look at her, to bask in her beauty, and he stilled her hands when she moved to cover herself.
Gently moving her arms away from her body, he assured her, “You’re beautiful, Veronica. You don’t need to hide.”
“You’re just staring,” she said, a touch of defensiveness creeping into her tone.
“I won’t stare anymore,” he vowed, moving back to her stomach, drawing designs with the tip of his tongue. “I’ll be too busy.”
It was the subtext rather than the words that made Veronica quiver, and she pushed everything out of her mind but him. There was no rape, no Lynn, no year of bad blood. Right now, all there was, was Logan, who was currently moving aside the strings of her underwear to nip at her hipbones.
“Logan, please!”
Taking pity on her, Logan carefully slid the underwear down her legs, tossing them over his shoulder. He idly wonders if she remembers leaving that pair from Christmas; he’ll never tell her that he kept them.
Veronica gasped as he began to kiss his way up her right leg, the kisses becoming deeper and wetter at the inside of her thigh. She’s torn between embarrassment and arousal; no one has ever done this to her before. Duncan had heavily hinted at wanting to receive oral sex but never mentioned giving it; she and Troy had only gone as far as some over the bra action; she and Logan had gone from touching to attempting sex that she hadn’t even thought about it.
Now, as Logan urged her to bend her legs, seemingly framing his body, Veronica wasn’t sure whether to let him do this or to run away and check into a convent. Grandma Mars had always wanted her to be a nun, to serve the Catholic Church. Maybe she had missed her calling; maybe she wasn’t supposed to be a PI at all but was supposed to serve-
“Jesus Christ!” she screeched at the first touch of Logan’s tongue against her core, sensation whipping through her so fast and hard that she felt as if she had been sucker punched.
Logan immediately lifted his head in shock. Veronica had never been incredibly vocal, and Lilly rarely made noise during sex unless it was to mock him. To hear her shout like that immediately made him think that he’d hurt her.
“Are you okay?”
“Don’t stop!” she cried, an undertone of panic threading through her voice.
“You sure?”
She nodded jerkily, pitching her hips up in encouragement. “I’m sure. I won’t yell again. I promise.”
Resituating himself, he smiled. “Be as loud as you want.”
She moaned long in satisfaction as his tongue went back to lapping at her flesh, his hand gently stroking her folds before slipping one finger inside of her. Her inner muscles clenched upon it, massaging it, and Logan could only imagine what it would feel like to be inside her, to feel that tightness grasping around his dick.
“You’re so wet, baby,” he informed her, a bit of awe filling his voice. “I think you like this.”
“Uh-huh,” she grunted, moaning louder as he slid another finger inside her, stretching her sheath a little more. She was unbearably tight; he had forgotten that. It had been so long since he had touched her like this, that he had felt the way her muscles hungrily clamped down upon him.
When he withdrew his fingers, Veronica began to protest but her voice faltered as she felt his tongue slip inside her, lapping at the wetness that was accumulating there. It was something startlingly new, something that felt so good that she didn’t even have time to think about whether it was right or wrong, whether they should be doing this or not.
Logan had imagined doing this to Veronica a few times before, but the actual experience was far more gratifying than his imagination. As he tasted her in the most intimate way that he could, as he felt her fingers twist in his hair, he wanted her to come apart, to feel better than she ever had in her life.
Replacing his fingers, he worked his way up to her previously ignored clit, darting his tongue out to gauge her reaction. He knew that some women were more sensitive than others here, and he did not want this to be painful. She mewled, begging him to continue, and, as his fingers curled inside her, searching for that illusive place inside her, he sipped her swollen clit between his lips and began to suck, his tongue sliding against it.
Veronica screamed in bliss, jerking her hips almost violently, hands keeping Logan firmly against her. She had never felt anything like this before; this made every orgasm she had ever had before feel like pleasant twinges. Logan couldn’t be human; nothing human could invoke this much pleasure in another person.
She had barely recovered her from her first orgasm when his questing fingers found what they were looking for. The moment he touched her g-spot, she cried out again, coming even harder than before, wetness gushing out of her as she sobbed in pleasure. Logan withdrew his hand, and he slid back up her body, cradling her against him as she shivered intermittently with aftershocks. When her breathing finally regulated, she just looked at Logan in disbelief before blurting out, “Thank you.”
Logan grinned, wiping his mouth with the edge of his sheet before brushing his lips against hers. “Thank you.”
With a sleepy smile, she reached down, trying to grasp his straining erection, but he caught her hand, pressed a kiss to her palm.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, self-consciousness filling her face.
“I don’t want anything.”
“But it’s ok. I want to.” Brushing a piece of his hair back from his forehead, she said, “I want to make love to you.”
Logan shook his head. “Not tonight. Tonight, I just want to hold you.”
“But you didn’t come,” she said before blushing brightly.
“This wasn’t about me.” His eyes pleaded with her to understand, to see that this had been his way of apologizing for Shelley’s party, to try to make up for the pain that he could’ve spared her if he had been the type of man she deserved.
Veronica reached for her discarded T-shirt, pulling it over her body before obediently slipping into his arms. He positioned them carefully, so that he was spooning her, and he kissed her hair.
They laid there for several minutes before Logan offered up his confession, the secret he owed her. “He beat her, too, you know. That’s one of my first memories. They had gone to a party, the People’s Choice Awards, and Mom had talked to some director. Aaron thought she was flirting, and the moment they got inside, he backhanded her so hard that she fell over a coffee table. Trina and I were watching some movie, I can’t even remember what, but he didn’t even care. He pulled her up by her hair, called her a whore, and broke her nose.”
“God,” Veronica gasped.
“She started the plastic surgery after that. There was the nose job to fix what he did, the cheek implants after he crushed a cheekbone, the Botox and the lipo and the boob jobs. Collagen was the latest. He has a thing for Angelina Jolie, and Mom thought that if she had bigger lips he’d quit fucking anything in a skirt. When she’d get drunk, she’d tell me that if she could just be what he needed, if she did what she was supposed to do, he wouldn’t be like this. It was always her fault, never his. I used to hate her when she wouldn’t stop him from hitting me, from beating me, but he just would’ve done it anyway and then did her.”
Veronica can hear the trembling in his voice, the tears that have managed to escape as he accuses, “It’s his fault. She might’ve jumped but he’s the one who drove her to it. And I can’t believe…I can’t believe she’d leave me like that. How could she just fucking quit when she knew that he’d keep doing it to me, that he’d probably kill me without her here? How could she be so selfish?”
“Maybe she was just in too much pain,” Veronica lamely offered, stroking the arm that was wrapped around her torso. “Maybe this was the only way she could be free of him.”
“Free of him,” he echoed, the words nagging at his brain as if they meant something significant. “Who wouldn’t want to be free of him?”
“I know that I’m not her, but…I’m here. I won’t let him hurt you anymore.”
He knows the promise is empty, that there’s no way she can promise that, but he appreciates the sentiment. As he buries his face in her hair, they fall asleep, their breath synchronizing as they drift off.
* * *
Light filtered through the windows accompanied by birds singing, and Veronica awoke in a panic. Her father was due back in Neptune at 8 AM, and it’s 7:30. If she didn’t do some serious hauling ass, she was going to be in trouble like she could not comprehend.
Gently moving out of Logan’s grasp, she began to dress in her forgotten clothes, keeping one eye on the clock. Her pants are barely fastened before she hears Logan drowsily query, “Where are you going?”
“Home. My dad’s gonna shit a brick if I’m not there.”
Logan moved out of bed, handing her the bag she had left beside his bed. Carefully, unsure how she’ll react, he kisses her briefly. “I’ll walk you out.”
“You don’t have to-“
“I’m walking you out,” he rephrased, leading her silently through the house.
Her car is where she left it, the news vans blissfully gone after scoring the Aaron interview, likely to surface again at Lynn’s funeral. As Veronica unlocked her car, Logan sighed, “Thank you for last night.”
She looks so young in the morning light, face free of make-up, hair delightfully tousled. “What are friends for?”
The door was open, and she was prepared to climb in when Logan requested, “Please stop running from me.”
Sadness in her voice, she countered, “Please stop making me.”
Pressing a kiss to her forehead, he swore, “Things are going to be different now.”
She wanted to believe him, to listen to his promises. There’s a part of her that prays with everything she has that he will be different and that when they see each other the next time that things won’t be awkward and filled with tension. But Veronica has learned not to expect miracles, so she just kisses him again before going home, beating her father by mere minutes.
* * *
Lynn’s funeral at the Methodist church is packed, and Veronica sits in the back, away from the Hollywood types and 09ers that make up 99.9% of the mourners. Logan and Aaron are in the front pew, the Kanes behind them, and Logan seems more lost than ever.
He and Aaron stand in the receiving line, the only family that Lynn has left, and, when Logan sees her standing there in the same black dress she wore to Lilly’s funeral, something shifts in his eyes. Despite her hatred of him, she offers Aaron her condolences and shakes his hand.
Logan clasped her hand for a moment too long, his grip slightly too tight, as if he were clinging to a life preserver, and he pulls her in, hugging her as he’s done to several other attendees.
“I’m glad you came,” he breathed into her ear. “I needed you today.”
Surprise is not a strong enough word to describe what fills her chest in that moment, but Veronica knows that he was right: everything has changed now. And she knows exactly what has happened, knows it the minute she sees the looks she gets from Logan’s 09er pals, once her friends.
Their relationship, once the best kept secret in Neptune, was starting to not be a secret at all.