Fic: Love Isn't Good Unless... (VM: HaLo, NC17) One Shot
Title: Love Isn’t Good Unless . . .
Fandom: Veronica Mars
Ship: Logan Echolls/Hannah Griffith
Summary: Dr. Griffith doesn’t come barging in to the Presidential Suite. Hannah’s perspective on a night that could have changed her relationship with Logan forever.
Spoilers: The Rapes of Graff obviously but all of season two just in case.
Rating: NC17
Dedication: Here you go queen_haq, part one of your Xmas present. And you thought I wouldn't come through, didn't you? (Okay, fair enough!) This is also the reason I've been a bad beta but I'll have your chapter back to you tomorrow.
Notes: This was difficult to write because I normally write Logan quite chatty in sex scenes but he seemed in a very different, intense mood during this canon scene and I didn’t want to change it (because that's what made me think he could have fallen for Hannah if not quite yet). I separated the story into part one and two because I posted the first part as a short fic a looooong time ago and it has a different rhythm to the rest. Hope you enjoy! Oh and I only had time to read through this once so please feel free to point out any typos or tense errors. I really don't mind.
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One
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Anticipation is watching Logan Echolls drive: his hands gripping his steering wheel, his eyes focused on the road. He’s so intently quiet and he’s a wonder to her every time her blue eyes flash up and down his face.
Her back is pressed up against the door, the clip of the belt digging into her, and her shoulder is wedged to the side of the seat. She’s pushing herself through leather and vinyl so she doesn’t leap forward - damn the glove box to hell - and catch the sun glinting from his cheeks with her lips.
Those glittering eyes look over at her - feel her stare - and he doesn’t smile in amusement (though that shimmer-shine of dark laughter tells her plainly that he’s feeling it). The centred, heaviness of that gaze - I know exactly what you’re after, go ahead and try it - makes her want to open the door and give her body over to the bloody roll of tearing asphalt. Where her heart is concerned, there’s safety in the comparison.
Her daddy always told her that heart palpitations are a sign of heart attacks and heart attacks are bad.
She lets the blush suffuse her, shoulder nudging her own cheek, hair falling down like a veil. He looks back to the road and she can see the smile now, but his lips haven’t moved. She stares at his face and tries to trace the amusement to its original tick . . . but there are no signs. He just glows and he doesn’t need a lamp post like most people. His feelings ooze and he’s caught her again and this time he grins affectionately and she is feeling kind of silly but she smiles back.
You can survive a heart attack.
If there was any time she listened to her father’s advice it should be now because, damn it, if Logan hadn’t been such a liar. Being honest about the lies at the end shouldn’t count, right? But it’s the end of the story that holds the meaning. She’s his princess. He’s her-
He pulls up to the valet, doesn’t let them open the door for her, does it himself, and then his fingers wrap through hers and he’s still looking at her like she’s been trying to say something and he’ll be patient forever if she promises to find the courage one day.
She smiles brightly and squeezes his hand into a fist clasped between her own. His eyes squint at the corners and he hops away from the car, dragging her by her ballerina arms into the lobby; keys ringing through the air to the valet’s clasp.
“I’m glad you waited for me,” she finally speaks, voice cracking, eyes shaking as they rise up the slope of that bite-me neck and meet the intent, soft focus she covets in her sleep. She bites down on her bottom lip and blushes as he slowly presses a kiss to her forehead. The elevator doors close behind them.
“Going up,” he whispers coyly against her ear and she curls into him, trying to suppress the giggles.
Yeah, she’s a princess. She’s his princess and he wants to deflower her in the Penthouse of his very own Ivory Tower.
This might not be her happy ever after but she can’t stop that pitter pat rhythm from believing in it.
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Two
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Hannah places her bag by the doorway as Logan fiddles with his stereo. His fingers flick past fast and hard rhythms, the surround sound bouncing beats off her already trembling diaphragm, until he settles on a ballad by Tegan and Sara. Hannah bites her lip and looks over her shoulder, watches his hand hover and hesitate over the dial, before slipping into his pocket. The song plays on.
He turns around then, sensing her gaze, and even though she can feel her face heating up, she doesn’t look away and tries to smile coyly. The look he sends back makes her feet shift and she uses the opportunity to toe off her sandals, pushing them delicately toward her bag. A rustle of clothing sounds before his jacket slaps down on the lounge next to her and it’s her turn again.
They stare at each other. It’s steady and safe but frightening at the same time. His hands are holding the top of his thighs as he slowly sinks onto his lounge, steadily focusing on her every twitch.
She knew it all now: the lies had unravelled and she could see every way he’d manipulated her but, in most ways, she didn’t care. Truth was the feeling in her gut and the look in his eyes. She thought she could forgive him anything and sometimes, when he looked at her with such dark longing, she wondered if he might need that from her more than anything else.
She wants to be his tactile conduit - let him touch her to ground them both in this moment. She understands for the first time how he becomes balanced by feeling his way through a moment because she feels scattered standing across the other side of the room, watching him watch her without anything to steady herself. He’s always leaning, holding, clasping, lounging. Now he is sitting kinetically on the edge, with his hands on his thighs, waiting for her to move.
She walks slowly toward him, trying to emulate the ease and patience she sees in his eyes. The silence is an added pressure and she’s breathless with it, wanting to fast forward the moment until she is naked and sweating and beyond all reason so that she can feel and do anything but over think what happens next. Instead, she slides between his legs and looks into his eyes. Two seconds from now they’ll be kissing and she’ll have a reason to be panting as hard as she is.
She bends down and he stares until he’s sure her lips are making contact. Then they close in surrender. She kisses him twice: one short and sweet; the second lingers longer. When she pulls back, Logan’s eyes are shut and he trails after her before blinking them open. Entranced.
She slides one knee next to his right leg and moves her right over his waist. Sits down. It’s a graceful movement that brings their chests into an embrace almost as intimate as the grip their lips currently have on each other. They move simultaneously when she straddles him: his hands come up to her waist as she wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him firmly. He’s rocked backwards by her force but doesn’t retreat, sliding his hand up the back of her top. She feels shivering sensations trail behind that caress and rocks with the touch.
Then he cups her face and pulls her out of the kiss to look at her. He wants this: her eagerness. She loves that he wants to satisfy her desire more than he wants to indulge his own. She wants to tell him she’s as entranced by his expressive face as he seems to be by her lips but the nerves in her throat clamp down.
He’s staring at her intensely while she smiles sweetly down at him, rocking in an eager, impatient, squirming motion. Logan pushes her blouse over her shoulders but doesn’t remove it, just slides it back a bit to see the birdlike bones of her collarbone. He’s distracted from his perusal by undulating hips - a former ballet dancer, he’s almost sure - and then she’s arching backwards and rubbing her lips together. They move simultaneously into a slow, hot kiss.
Nervous and excited and oh God, oh God is running through her head. She’d try to play it cool but she feels hot all over and they both know her poker face would lose her a million dollars against him. There’s no point in hiding what she’s feeling - the hot, bubbling fizz of it inside her belly - and she’s smiling like the silly school girl she is, smiling against his lips and teeth and tongue as he kisses her open mouth and clutches her hair.
She slips a hand under his shirt, feels the hot skin over muscle up the side of his chest. When her nails scratch slightly over his ribs, pulling on his shirt, he lifts his arms up, deepening the kiss momentarily, before abruptly pulling back. She dumps the shirt beside the couch and they grab each other’s faces straight away again, her hands twisting up into his hair, his tongue twisting around her mouth until she imagines tying slip knots between their lips.
His hands slide from her neck, down over her breasts to her waist and suddenly he’s standing, taking her with him, clutching her ass so tight she feels glued to his hips. Hannah breathily laughs pulling back from his mouth and twisting her shoulders until her pink blouse slides to the floor, leaving her in nothing but a pale pink camisole.
His hands squeeze her buttocks, pulling her tight against his groin and she’s amazed by how light she feels in his arms. The difference in muscle strength pleasantly shocked her the first time Logan swung her into his arms but it’s even more thrilling now. Up in the air, spinning around, he could throw her anywhere and she would fall with a crash. Thrilling, she stretches her arms up behind her head, lengthening her body against his with a feline grin.
“Look mom, no hands!” She murmurs and Logan grins against her mouth bouncing her higher on his waist until she has to wrap her arms around his neck to anchor herself.
She feels his smile stretch over the front of her neck a second before he sucks hard at her pulse, moving one hand up to pull at the small of her back until they’re grinding mid air. At least, it feels that way to her: squeezed tight against his broad, naked chest while her feet slap at the outside of his knees. Her breath catches and her legs tighten around him in response, feet crawling until they are pressing into the back of his thighs.
She expected him to move this into the bedroom but instead he backs up two steps around the couch and lowers her beneath him. With his heat radiating down from his hovering chest, she feels like the couch is sweltering beneath her, sweating in sympathy to her own heat. It should be sticky and awkward but she is too distracted by the heavy feeling in her gut, how delicious it feels to have his weight on her leg and the fierce desire to feel the rest of him pressing down into her.
Hannah grabs his head and tilts her chin up to kiss him, scratching at his scalp with her finger tips. She can feel him moving against her. She wouldn’t call it a grind, it’s a lulling movement, a rockaby, and it’s sending lovely, tender impulses up and down the inside of her thighs, her tummy and her breasts. She moves with him, hypnotized and a little in awe of this man above her. She wants to be close and as he pulls out of the pounding kiss, to brush his lips over hers - sensing out her urges - she feels it, tries to catch him up in another kiss but he pulls back, smiles cheekily and moves down to her neck.
At the sensation, Hannah’s face breaks into a grin, fingers clutching at him to keep his mouth in place. Smooth and hot, he licks swift strikes before opening his mouth in a vacuum over the tender spot beneath her jaw line. Finally, he lowers his weight and it’s still the most comforting thing Hannah has ever felt - weight, pressure, support, protection, possession and desire - it’s his torso moulding itself into the hard lines of hers. She hitches her thigh around the points of his hip, hooking her right leg around him and cradling his rocking pressure against her, feeling like frail ivy girl, awkward and coltish against someone who is already a man.
His mouth releases its hold on her neck with a soft pop and Hannah breathes roughly in relief and regret. She sees a dark flash of his eyes, and then he trails distracted kisses over her décolletage, hesitating over the small mounds of her breasts beneath her camisole. She can feel his breath through the material and hers increases, hands trembling as they trace distracted circles over his naked, freckled shoulders. His hands are at her shoulders and he rubs them as he moves to his knees.
She watches his eyes snap up to hers, capturing her attention. Deliberately, he passes both hands over her breasts at once, stopping when his fingertips are barely touching the hypersensitive underside before bringing them up to cup the soft mounds simultaneously. Hannah’s eyes are round, focused on his face as her body arches into that touch. His face doesn’t noticeably register her reaction but he lowers his body slightly between her thighs, puffing hot breaths in the valley of her chest and he briefly circles each nipple with his pointer fingers. Hannah makes a noise then bites down on her lip, unsure if that’s allowed.
Her hips are still squirming and she knows it’s to the rhythm of the song and wonders if that’s why he chose such a slow song because she might have been doing something epileptic if he’d left it on a dance number and maybe she’s gone crazy because her breathing is out of control and she’s losing all thought processes and what is he-oh.
His hand is up her shirt, stroking the slight slope of her concaved stomach as his eyes focus in on her scatterbrained face. She tries to smile because yes, oh god yes, whatever it is you’re doing, the answer is yes! but she’s trembling. It’s excitement, she knows it is, but adrenaline is adrenaline and it all feels the same. Fear. Excitement. Fear. Excitement. It’s all Logan Echolls and this fast paced heart and she doesn’t know how to make him see that everything’s okay and she’s not a baby even if she is his princess.
Whatever he sees, it’s reassuring enough, and he’s undoing the buckle of her belt while she holds onto his shoulder and bites her lip. Her hips shift around in anticipation of helping him buck those jeans off (why did she change into something so inaccessible anyway?) but he doesn’t seem to mind the obstacle they pose. As soon as the buckle pops beneath one dexterous hand, he grabs her hips with quiet force and lifts the naked stretch of her stomach into his open mouth. There’s purpose in each lick and her hands flutter about her hips clutching and slipping on the leather for purchase as she rocks into each slow stroke. He’s moving lower and she’s feeling phantom strokes over her panties, feels herself getting embarrassingly wet as she pants through bright red lips.
Her eyes are wide with focus and excitement when she feels his tongue brush low enough to strike the rough texture of pubic hair. It’s a strange enough feeling to make her flinch. Her thighs squeeze down on his head slightly, but he doesn’t seem to mind. His fingers dig into her jeans and he tugs quick and hard - once, twice - until she pushes off the couch with her feet and arches her hips enough for him to pull those jean halfway down her thighs. He sits up and abruptly yanks them off completely, tossing them over his shoulder.
Hannah sits up too and reaches for the buckle of his jeans, tugging with shaking, eager hands. Her slender fingers can feel the aching hardness beneath the rough denim and for a moment she presses down, too curious by half. He grunts and she feels an answering pounding between her own legs, nuzzling her forehead under his neck as her body shivers.
He sits on his heels and she can feel the fierce burn of his stare in her forehead as her hair brushes against his chest while she tugs. She presses her mouth shyly between his pectoral muscles, sliding her tongue tentatively over the coarse, sparse hairs leading down to his waist. He lets out a puff of air against her crown and his hands drift over her naked shoulders. The button on his jeans pops open and he clutches her arms once before sliding his hands up to her neck and tilting her face up.
Hannah’s mouth drops open at the look on his face but before she can say a word he’s pulled her up to him, wrapping one arm around her dainty waist while the other rips her camisole over her head. Hannah jumps up to meet the dark plumes of his mouth with her own, wrapping her arms around his chest. He does the rest. Pulls her knees up off the lounge and wraps her body around his waist again. Her naked breasts are crushed against his chest and she gasps, rubbing herself against him while she’s flying through the air - glorying in the rich friction - and then her back flops back onto the couch, trapping his hand momentarily beneath the sweat slicked slope of her back. He pulls her hips until her thighs are spread wide over his, eyes devouring the straight lines of her long torso down to the pink lace panties pressed against his open fly.
His grin has a certain wickedness to it when he bends over her, licking a long line with the tip of his tongue from the middle of her breasts, down, down, down to the chalice of her naval. He lingers there, cupping her backside and lifting it up so he can feel her groin pressing into the top of his chest, her delicious ass clenching and sweating in his hands. When he kisses her over the damp patch in the lace, she emits a high pitched noise that makes Logan smile.
He sits back, lets her legs flop open and lifeless around his waist and slowly drags her panties down while she watches heavy lidded and sprawled open and wet beneath him. Hannah wonders what she must look like but doesn’t particularly care when his fingers brush over her naked curls. Her eyes drift down the steady heaving of his chest, past the wiry hair and unbuckled latch of his jeans to where his fingers are probing at her. The sight is dizzying and surreal but she focuses and shifts up, begging, until he presses a single digit into her. It’s a surface scratch to a deeper ache and Hannah whinnies in frustration, shifting for more.
She makes the strange noise again and Logan’s head snaps up, eyes focusing on the open lines of her mouth. She clutches her hand over it, trying to get a little control and focus on that feeling. Logan keeps moving his finger in and out, around, but he’s also leaning over her now, panting hard as she coos in pleasure against her own palm.
Hannah’s forehead wrinkles when he bends over, pulling her hand away only to replace it over her breast with a stern look. She almost laughs but then he pushes a second finger into her and she moans louder instead, wide eyes locking on the pleased glint in his. Then he bends down to press his closed mouth against her open lips. He presses fast, sharp kisses down her torso, rubbing himself against her while one hand squeezes her breast and the other rubs distracted, clutching rhythms over his descending head.
Soon her underwear is off and he’s rubbing his teeth along her thigh, easing the v of her legs open as she moves deliriously beneath him. When the wet throb of her arousal rubs against his cheek, he grunts and bites down.
“AHHHH!” She cries out and bucks up so hard that she almost dislodges him. He clutches the outside of her thighs to keep himself in place and turns his head at last, swiping his tongue over her labia without hesitation.
Hannah mewls and rubs her hands over her stomach, feeling drunk on sensuality, but more desperate to feel some part of him than any of herself. When her searching fingers brush his face, he looks up at her, still sucking in a steady, slow rhythm over her clitoris. Hannah’s eyes glaze over and she smiles faintly before arching her head back. She tries to keep her hips still, unsure what the etiquette is when he’s down there putting his neck at risk to the power of her thighs as it is. She tries to stay still by clutching her hair but it doesn’t work, especially when he slips his free hand under her to clutch her ass, lifting her in a semi-rhythm that Hannah soon follows subconsciously.
His fingers move inside her, curling over something that makes her mutter and stretch - everything pulsing - and then he clamps down forcefully over her clit. Everything tightens - inside and out - and she feels like she wants to curl into a ball to centre the feeling in her whole body, feel her whole self pressed tight against naked flesh. Instead, all she feels is Logan and his perfect mouth: his clutching hands, his sucking mouth, and the sweating surface of the leather that has become adhesive against her back. Still, she cries out, trembles bursting in her thighs, her breast aching beneath her clutching hand. She slumps beneath him, whimpering and spasming in the wash of her second ever orgasm.
He doesn’t pull away but eases off the pressure, removing his fingers as his tongue starts swiping long slow strokes again, easing her through the aftermath of twitches. Her eyes open drowsily and it’s only when she moves to sit up that he releases her. He sits up so slowly that Hannah’s eyes are drawn down to his crotch. She’d blush if her face was capable of getting any more flushed, but instead she lazily rolls up and crawls to him, straddling the erection that’s so obvious now it’s almost paining her. He cups one cheek of her ass and lifts her brushing the damp, cunt-moistened mouth against her neck.
Her hand slips down, trying to ease the pressure on his dick by moving his zipper all the way down. He hisses and she pulls the denim away from his flesh, trying to keep the sharp teeth from digging into anything too sensitive. Nonetheless, she’s amused, and her giggles get lost in Logan’s scowling mouth when he bends his head to kiss her.
“Mmmm…” she frowns, trying not to concentrate on the taste of herself even though it’s so obviously there and all she can think of is fishcakes and the fact she hates fishcakes and how could he possibly enjoy doing that if that’s what it tastes like? He bites down on her lower lip and she pushes her hand into his open pants, wrapping her hand around his cock and squeezing in retaliation. Logan grunts and releases her mouth, the loud smack sounding terribly loud in the pause between songs. Then he’s lifting her under her arms, pulling her up and almost through his chest.
They stumble toward his bedroom, her long legs feeling even more coltish now that they are trembling with competing sensations of satisfaction and anticipation. She doesn’t care, she’s focused on little things like his bed (or couch) tussled hair and the scratch of his slightly stubbly cheek against the long stretch of her throat. His lips, desperate and urgent against hers. There’s no hesitation in each kiss now, it’s an open grind complete with clacking teeth and Hannah squirms every time he massages his tongue along the underside of hers.
Her nipples are pinching, she’s so aroused, and she’d be scared of how fast and hard she wants this to be if it wasn’t happening and she wasn’t helping him do it to her. He lets her fall on his mattress, standing between her open thighs. She scoots back in a quick crab crawl as he lowers his body over hers. When he bends to remove his jeans she impatiently pulls him down until he’s crushing her into his bedspread, flicking pillows off the mattress with flailing arms.
She lifts up and captures his mouth, moaning out her pleasure when his hands stroke down the outside of her breasts, all down her sides and back up again, pushing his pelvis into her. Hannah is busy squirming around underneath him, grunting in frustration as she flexibly uses her feet to push down on his loose jeans. For a moment she’s annoyed that he isn’t helping her until she realizes he’s fumbling in the pocket of his jeans for a condom. He flicks it on the mattress and shifts to his knees while she redoubles her efforts with her feet until his jeans loosen their grip and slide down his legs. Hannah makes a noise of satisfaction and Logan chuckles into her mouth, gripping her face to kiss her harder.
His mouth slides off hers for a moment when his pants finally reach his feet and he takes the time to kick them off. Then he lets his whole weight fall on her again, pushing his hands under her neck to clutch her hair. She smiles eagerly when she feels his erection pressing into her belly, and automatically pushes her hips into his, smiling into a face staring so seriously back at her.
His hands cup her face so softly that she stops the desperate clutching of her limbs to focus on him. She wants to stay still and savour him like he’s savouring her but her breathing is out of control and she can’t stop her chest from intermittently brushing against his with every pant. She can feel the cracked nail of his thumb brushing beneath her lower lip and she smiles with a queer shyness, flushing with tenderness under his scrutiny. Slowly she raises her own hand to cup his cheek and his eyes close, pushing his face into her palm.
He breaths in two fierce, desperate breaths and when he opens his eyes there’s a pained look of desperation there that she’s never seen before. He lifts a hand to grab her hand from his face, lowering it to help him open the condom packet. When that’s done he meets her gaze hotly, moving her hand down to his cock. Hannah gasps but doesn’t withdraw, closing her fist around him as she desperately tries to clear the fog of lust so she can remember what he showed her last time. Slowly she moves the condom down his shaft, squeezing intermittently. He closes a fist over hers, shifting his hips closer. Hannah nods twice and then readjusts her grip, leading him to her.
She braces her feet by his hips and breathes so harshly she thinks she might hyperventilate. His head droops in a way that almost feels like defeat until he presses his forehead tenderly into hers, shifts his hips and then pushes forward. Hannah breathes between her teeth and pushes back into him, easing the entry of his cock into her orgasm slicked channel. His lips press an incongruently chaste kiss against her lips and then his whole body withdraws like a piston reversing.
Hannah grimaces and Logan slows his forward thrust, concerned, but she shakes her head. It doesn’t hurt, not like last time, just feels a little awkward and uncomfortable. She shifts her hips, evening out the spread of his weight and refocusing the angle of each thrust. Gradually she starts to feel better, each push feels smooth and wanted and his dick feels more like the missing piece of her body than an intruder forcing her body to submit to its hard angles. She pushes back against him and sighs, letting the slow build of pleasure guide her shifting hips in an up and down swell, rippling ever outwards in widening circles. On and on.
“Han-nah?” His voice is a breath against her cheek and she meets his gaze, smiling that sex-drunk smile that made him laugh at her when she pressed it to his chest the first time. He doesn’t smile this time even though his eyes are glittering, his body too turned on to do much but pull back and push in.
“It’s good. Mmm, good.” Her feet push up from the mattress causing her hips to snap up into his harder. He grunts and slams his pelvis down into hers. Their hips crack together and she hisses out, startled by how that pain twists and perverts itself into a deep tightening knot of pleasure inside her. “I need-”
In truth, she doesn’t know what she needs, but she needs something. Logan speeds up and she gasps in happy surprise. The pleasure seems to increase and she smiles dizzily, rising with him, hands fumbling over his chest and when she can’t get a good grip - sliding round to grip his ass.
“Fuck,” Logan pauses and then seems to cry out in agony and begins pounding into her. The bed shakes and squeaks beneath her and it takes a moment for her to catch her breath, eyes bugging out in surprise. She can’t quite grasp his rhythm and it seems like he doesn’t have one - this is all just a crazed, lustful pounding because he’s lost all control. Her heart is thudding beneath her rib cage and she doesn’t care about anything but this, this, this. He grips her breasts and then slips his hands under her shoulders, pulling her chest up into his. She can feel him nodding to himself, head bowed into her shoulder, then running over her chest - and his dick is a constant movement inside her, sending sharp darts of pleasure into a hot well of pleasure bubbling steadily toward a second orgasm.
Too soon, he loses control snapping his hips to hers and releasing a deep groan of satisfaction. She knows he’s coming by the way his whole tense frame seems to loosen, droop down and melt into her own. He slumps over her, still slightly rigid inside the sticky clasp of her body.
Hannah smiles, dreamily stroking three lines up his back through the thick line of sweat. She holds him to her, trying to ignore the muscles insider her that are still steadily squeezing down on his spent cock, instinctively reaching out for the peak she didn’t quite hit.
When Logan lifts his gelatinous arms to push his body off hers, Hannah mumbles a sound of protest, whining and pouting playfully up at him as he withdraws. Logan mock glares down at her.
“You think it’s painful for you” His eyes seem to say and Hannah giggles, stretching out beneath him. Content to curl up with her frustration and the pleasant high tingles even this unsatisfied lust has been left crying throughout her body.
But Logan pushes her legs open again and lowers his trembling hand, rubbing steady and increasingly hard circles around her clitoris. Hannah is so surprised he’d even notice, he’d even bother, that she lets out a shocked scream and almost jumps a foot in the air. Logan pushes her back down, chuckling at her and then redoubles his efforts until she’s a moaning mess. She arched up toward his face until he grants her a sloppy, wet kiss full of tenderness. Then she comes, biting down on his chin until her spent body loosens its grip and she flops back on the mattress. Exhausted.
He collapses beside her only a second later, turning onto his back with his arm thrown over his face, panting harshly into his elbow. For a moment they say nothing and then Logan notices the bed shaking. He moves his arm and looks lazily over at her. She’s quivering in silent laughter, clutching at her chest as her fingers move over her skin: marvelling at the sensuality that has overcome her, what this fleshy expanse is capable of feeling.
“Are you going to do this every time we have sex?” He asks with amused curiosity.
“I don’t know,” she laughs, bubbling with happiness so infectious that Logan can’t help but slant an amused grin back even though his forehead is still wrinkling in lines of disconcertion. “Is this not normal?”
“I don’t know. Are you trying to tell me I’m not normal? Do I have weird post-coital habits that just crack you up?”
“How would I know? You could be the weirdest freak in the world and I’d have no idea.” She licks her lips, curling toward him on the mattress, shy once more in the aftermath, if no less eager to be near him. “I’ve got nothing to compare this feeling to.”
“What feeling?” His voice lilts with good humour.
“Overwhelmed,” she tilts her shoulder toward her ear, shrugging bashfully. Smiling when his eyes glitter indulgently back at her. “Happy. I don’t know if I’ll feel this way every time or just…” she takes the opportunity to crawl across the bed into his arms and hide her blushing face in his chest.
“Princess, if this is your way of getting my permission to play around with other boys so that you can show me proper, informed appreciation of my work, it’s not going to work. I can handle the hysterical laughing fits, bruised ego or not.”
Hannah smiles indulgently pressing an open mouthed kiss to his shoulder before pulling her long, coltish legs up and over his hips to negotiate a position in between his calves.
“I laugh too much. I get told that all the time.”
Logan says nothing, just runs his hand up and down her back, snuggling closer to her now that their sweat has started to cool. As she continues to talk, he reaches over and folds the quilt over their bodies, better to keep her in close proximity all night.
“My friends say I laugh when I’m nervous but the truth is I laugh whenever I feel…whenever I feel too much.”
“It’s better than crying.”
“You’ve been with someone who cried?” Hannah’s face pinched, slightly put out by his comparison.
“Or yawning,” Logan continued without acknowledging her perturbed tone. “I’d hate to bore you.”
Hannah smiles at the irony in his too-confident voice. “You don’t believe that’s possible?”
“You’ve done wonders for my self esteem. Aren’t you happy with yourself?” She scowls playfully and twists his nipple suddenly between her conveniently located nails. Logan yelps and she laughs.
“Deliriously.”
“Kinky minx,” he mutters, sliding his hand covertly up her torso to return the favour.
She bats him away and grabs his face for a quick playful smooch. Effectively distracted, Logan lowers his upper torso back on top of her and sinks in for a leisurely French kiss. Hannah moans, loosening her lithe figure beneath him until she feels a sharp pain in her left breast. Breaking away with a cry, she scowls into Logan’s chuckling face and shoves him off her quietly rubbing her bruised, oversensitive nipple beneath the quilt.
After a moment she stops and looks at his smiling face. “Logan…” The unsure question in her voice makes his chuckles die down and he turns his head toward her. “Do you think my dad will be upset with me? Okay with this? Eventually?” She asks it quietly, afraid of how he’ll react to her dad coming between them so soon after they have just been as close as two people can be to each other. But her eyes are wide with quiet hope and Logan’s face doesn’t show any anger when he answers.
“He can’t tell you who you can be with and I could care less about keeping my word with someone like him.”
Hannah shifts uncomfortably, unsure how to respond to his derision of some she still loves.
“Hey,” his fingers brush her jaw, pulling her face back around to his. “I’ll teach you how to tune into another station when the yelling starts.”
“Plenty of practice, huh?”
“I was promoted from the amateur league a long time ago.”
Her nails scratch into his chest for a moment, so light and titillating that Logan needs to draw a restraining breath. She pauses and looks up at him unsurely.
“What if he’s angry at you?”
He raises an eyebrow. She’s terrified and he must see it on her face because he hesitates over a smart comment, smiles softly then presses a lingering kiss to her forehead. A smile twitches on her lips; she loves it when he does that.
“You know me. I’m nothing if not about self preservation. I wouldn’t be here if I was worried I couldn’t take him in an arm wrestle for your soiled virtue.”
“You’d think those instincts of self preservation would have made you say I’m worth the risk.”
“Were you going to reward me with a blow job?”
She blushes bright red and turns her back to him, trying to hide her red face. He kisses the back of her neck and whispers, “You’re worth the risk,” so sombrely and reverently that Hannah bursts into giggles again, snuggling her face deeper into the soft pillow.
“If I didn’t know better, Princess, I’d think you were high.”
Her laughter trails off until she turns to beam up at him, not holding a thing back from her expression, not a feeling or thought. Logan’s eyes feel like they’re absorbing everything she radiates, revelling in the radiance she gives out. Hannah basks for a moment, softening the beam of a smile to a tender grin. Just when she senses he’s about to kiss her, she whispers, “I love you,” with her fingers curled hesitantly over her mouth.
Logan tenses and her hand moves, revealing a serenity of understanding in her face that obviously makes him uncomfortable. He watches her, wary, and she smiles shyly.
“I know.”
“What?”
“I know you don’t feel that way yet.”
“Hannah-”
“I just felt like I was bursting. Is that silly? I mean, it’s okay if you don’t,” she stutters. “I’m not trying to pressure you-and wow, there’s no way to avoid the clichés in this conversation.”
He hates this whole conversation for more than just the clichés but bailing is not an option when she’s already reached the forgiveness quota of a saint. He holds her tighter but looks away, scrambling inside his head to figure this out before he says something rash.
“I don’t,” he says and, whoa, that came out far too blunt. She blinks at him and he continues, “I don’t want to lie to you any more. It makes me feel worse than…well, I’ve had a bad year and I considered it my lowest point when I saw the look on your face. Given the competition, that says something, right?”
“I’m not asking you to lie to me.”
“Hearing that? It makes me want to lie to you. I want to make you happy. I want to give you what you want.”
She’s frowning with hurt and she looks adorable, even as she pulls away, wrapping the bedspread around her protectively.
“I’m…sorry . . .” her voice fades into a disconcerted mumble, “I guess…”
“Don’t be sorry,” his frustration shows. “I’m in a dark place, Hannah.”
“You’re not going to start going on about how you’re not a sweet guy again, are you? I know you, Logan.”
He looks away from her. “You know a part of me.” His face is shadowed in the room but she can tell by his body language alone that he’s withdrawing, feeling vulnerable. “I’d do anything to make sure you never know certain things about me. You can’t see it but I’m so far away from you.”
“If I’m far away from you it’s only because you ruined my cuddling mood.”
He looks at the gap that’s opened up between them on the mattress and snorts. A playfully predatory look spreads across his face and he pounces, scooping her down into his arms. She wrestles, giggling reluctantly before quieting as he shifts her around until he’s spooning behind her, kissing along the back of her shoulders and neck penitently. She sighs and wiggles her feet against his legs, sliding them between his calves for some warmth. He holds her tight and breathes in.
“Stay with me. You’re radiant and I can see you, feel you, and I’ll get there. I promise.” He whispers it into her neck and Hannah holds his arms, crossed over her chest, tears itching behind her closed eyelids.
“I like when you don’t lie to me,” she whispers.
“New and refreshing, huh?”
“A girl could get used to it.”
“I wouldn’t want to spoil you.”
“I think you’ve already spoiled me. Twice.”
“A guy could get used to that.”
“You want to make a deal?”
“I think I’m done with deals for the foreseeable future. I don’t seem to hold up my end of the bargain.”
She pinches his arm hard.
“That’s one pro for spooning. You can’t reach my nipples any more.”
She ignores him. “Every time you lie to me from now on, that’s one less time we’ll have sex.”
Dead silence.
“Does that mean every time I tell the truth that’s one more time we will have sex?”
She can hear the smile in his voice and automatically tenses.
“I didn’t say that.”
“It was implied.”
The silence stretches with anticipation, Hannah biting down on her lips and trying to curl further into her own pillow. Just then, Logan leans over her and whispers in her ear, sliding his hand provocatively over her hip and then down over the tender skin of her inner thigh. She sucks in a breath, arching her head until his tongue lashes out to taste the shell of her ear.
“Hey Hannah? Did you know that the sky is in fact blue? It is. So are your eyes by the way. Blue, blue, blue.” He’s trying to roll her onto her back and she’s giggling. “Honest to God!”
“Logan!”
“That’s two truths. I’ll have to work on my stamina, huh? You must be ravenous by now.”
She squeals with laughter as he smiles, swooping down to kiss her open lips. Muffled giggles hum warmly between them as they wrestle, flicking the quilt open in a burst of renewed desire.
- End.
Fandom: Veronica Mars
Ship: Logan Echolls/Hannah Griffith
Summary: Dr. Griffith doesn’t come barging in to the Presidential Suite. Hannah’s perspective on a night that could have changed her relationship with Logan forever.
Spoilers: The Rapes of Graff obviously but all of season two just in case.
Rating: NC17
Dedication: Here you go queen_haq, part one of your Xmas present. And you thought I wouldn't come through, didn't you? (Okay, fair enough!) This is also the reason I've been a bad beta but I'll have your chapter back to you tomorrow.
Notes: This was difficult to write because I normally write Logan quite chatty in sex scenes but he seemed in a very different, intense mood during this canon scene and I didn’t want to change it (because that's what made me think he could have fallen for Hannah if not quite yet). I separated the story into part one and two because I posted the first part as a short fic a looooong time ago and it has a different rhythm to the rest. Hope you enjoy! Oh and I only had time to read through this once so please feel free to point out any typos or tense errors. I really don't mind.
~~~~~~~~~~
One
~~~~~~~~~~
Anticipation is watching Logan Echolls drive: his hands gripping his steering wheel, his eyes focused on the road. He’s so intently quiet and he’s a wonder to her every time her blue eyes flash up and down his face.
Her back is pressed up against the door, the clip of the belt digging into her, and her shoulder is wedged to the side of the seat. She’s pushing herself through leather and vinyl so she doesn’t leap forward - damn the glove box to hell - and catch the sun glinting from his cheeks with her lips.
Those glittering eyes look over at her - feel her stare - and he doesn’t smile in amusement (though that shimmer-shine of dark laughter tells her plainly that he’s feeling it). The centred, heaviness of that gaze - I know exactly what you’re after, go ahead and try it - makes her want to open the door and give her body over to the bloody roll of tearing asphalt. Where her heart is concerned, there’s safety in the comparison.
Her daddy always told her that heart palpitations are a sign of heart attacks and heart attacks are bad.
She lets the blush suffuse her, shoulder nudging her own cheek, hair falling down like a veil. He looks back to the road and she can see the smile now, but his lips haven’t moved. She stares at his face and tries to trace the amusement to its original tick . . . but there are no signs. He just glows and he doesn’t need a lamp post like most people. His feelings ooze and he’s caught her again and this time he grins affectionately and she is feeling kind of silly but she smiles back.
You can survive a heart attack.
If there was any time she listened to her father’s advice it should be now because, damn it, if Logan hadn’t been such a liar. Being honest about the lies at the end shouldn’t count, right? But it’s the end of the story that holds the meaning. She’s his princess. He’s her-
He pulls up to the valet, doesn’t let them open the door for her, does it himself, and then his fingers wrap through hers and he’s still looking at her like she’s been trying to say something and he’ll be patient forever if she promises to find the courage one day.
She smiles brightly and squeezes his hand into a fist clasped between her own. His eyes squint at the corners and he hops away from the car, dragging her by her ballerina arms into the lobby; keys ringing through the air to the valet’s clasp.
“I’m glad you waited for me,” she finally speaks, voice cracking, eyes shaking as they rise up the slope of that bite-me neck and meet the intent, soft focus she covets in her sleep. She bites down on her bottom lip and blushes as he slowly presses a kiss to her forehead. The elevator doors close behind them.
“Going up,” he whispers coyly against her ear and she curls into him, trying to suppress the giggles.
Yeah, she’s a princess. She’s his princess and he wants to deflower her in the Penthouse of his very own Ivory Tower.
This might not be her happy ever after but she can’t stop that pitter pat rhythm from believing in it.
~~~~~~~~~~
Two
~~~~~~~~~~
Hannah places her bag by the doorway as Logan fiddles with his stereo. His fingers flick past fast and hard rhythms, the surround sound bouncing beats off her already trembling diaphragm, until he settles on a ballad by Tegan and Sara. Hannah bites her lip and looks over her shoulder, watches his hand hover and hesitate over the dial, before slipping into his pocket. The song plays on.
He turns around then, sensing her gaze, and even though she can feel her face heating up, she doesn’t look away and tries to smile coyly. The look he sends back makes her feet shift and she uses the opportunity to toe off her sandals, pushing them delicately toward her bag. A rustle of clothing sounds before his jacket slaps down on the lounge next to her and it’s her turn again.
They stare at each other. It’s steady and safe but frightening at the same time. His hands are holding the top of his thighs as he slowly sinks onto his lounge, steadily focusing on her every twitch.
She knew it all now: the lies had unravelled and she could see every way he’d manipulated her but, in most ways, she didn’t care. Truth was the feeling in her gut and the look in his eyes. She thought she could forgive him anything and sometimes, when he looked at her with such dark longing, she wondered if he might need that from her more than anything else.
She wants to be his tactile conduit - let him touch her to ground them both in this moment. She understands for the first time how he becomes balanced by feeling his way through a moment because she feels scattered standing across the other side of the room, watching him watch her without anything to steady herself. He’s always leaning, holding, clasping, lounging. Now he is sitting kinetically on the edge, with his hands on his thighs, waiting for her to move.
She walks slowly toward him, trying to emulate the ease and patience she sees in his eyes. The silence is an added pressure and she’s breathless with it, wanting to fast forward the moment until she is naked and sweating and beyond all reason so that she can feel and do anything but over think what happens next. Instead, she slides between his legs and looks into his eyes. Two seconds from now they’ll be kissing and she’ll have a reason to be panting as hard as she is.
She bends down and he stares until he’s sure her lips are making contact. Then they close in surrender. She kisses him twice: one short and sweet; the second lingers longer. When she pulls back, Logan’s eyes are shut and he trails after her before blinking them open. Entranced.
She slides one knee next to his right leg and moves her right over his waist. Sits down. It’s a graceful movement that brings their chests into an embrace almost as intimate as the grip their lips currently have on each other. They move simultaneously when she straddles him: his hands come up to her waist as she wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him firmly. He’s rocked backwards by her force but doesn’t retreat, sliding his hand up the back of her top. She feels shivering sensations trail behind that caress and rocks with the touch.
Then he cups her face and pulls her out of the kiss to look at her. He wants this: her eagerness. She loves that he wants to satisfy her desire more than he wants to indulge his own. She wants to tell him she’s as entranced by his expressive face as he seems to be by her lips but the nerves in her throat clamp down.
He’s staring at her intensely while she smiles sweetly down at him, rocking in an eager, impatient, squirming motion. Logan pushes her blouse over her shoulders but doesn’t remove it, just slides it back a bit to see the birdlike bones of her collarbone. He’s distracted from his perusal by undulating hips - a former ballet dancer, he’s almost sure - and then she’s arching backwards and rubbing her lips together. They move simultaneously into a slow, hot kiss.
Nervous and excited and oh God, oh God is running through her head. She’d try to play it cool but she feels hot all over and they both know her poker face would lose her a million dollars against him. There’s no point in hiding what she’s feeling - the hot, bubbling fizz of it inside her belly - and she’s smiling like the silly school girl she is, smiling against his lips and teeth and tongue as he kisses her open mouth and clutches her hair.
She slips a hand under his shirt, feels the hot skin over muscle up the side of his chest. When her nails scratch slightly over his ribs, pulling on his shirt, he lifts his arms up, deepening the kiss momentarily, before abruptly pulling back. She dumps the shirt beside the couch and they grab each other’s faces straight away again, her hands twisting up into his hair, his tongue twisting around her mouth until she imagines tying slip knots between their lips.
His hands slide from her neck, down over her breasts to her waist and suddenly he’s standing, taking her with him, clutching her ass so tight she feels glued to his hips. Hannah breathily laughs pulling back from his mouth and twisting her shoulders until her pink blouse slides to the floor, leaving her in nothing but a pale pink camisole.
His hands squeeze her buttocks, pulling her tight against his groin and she’s amazed by how light she feels in his arms. The difference in muscle strength pleasantly shocked her the first time Logan swung her into his arms but it’s even more thrilling now. Up in the air, spinning around, he could throw her anywhere and she would fall with a crash. Thrilling, she stretches her arms up behind her head, lengthening her body against his with a feline grin.
“Look mom, no hands!” She murmurs and Logan grins against her mouth bouncing her higher on his waist until she has to wrap her arms around his neck to anchor herself.
She feels his smile stretch over the front of her neck a second before he sucks hard at her pulse, moving one hand up to pull at the small of her back until they’re grinding mid air. At least, it feels that way to her: squeezed tight against his broad, naked chest while her feet slap at the outside of his knees. Her breath catches and her legs tighten around him in response, feet crawling until they are pressing into the back of his thighs.
She expected him to move this into the bedroom but instead he backs up two steps around the couch and lowers her beneath him. With his heat radiating down from his hovering chest, she feels like the couch is sweltering beneath her, sweating in sympathy to her own heat. It should be sticky and awkward but she is too distracted by the heavy feeling in her gut, how delicious it feels to have his weight on her leg and the fierce desire to feel the rest of him pressing down into her.
Hannah grabs his head and tilts her chin up to kiss him, scratching at his scalp with her finger tips. She can feel him moving against her. She wouldn’t call it a grind, it’s a lulling movement, a rockaby, and it’s sending lovely, tender impulses up and down the inside of her thighs, her tummy and her breasts. She moves with him, hypnotized and a little in awe of this man above her. She wants to be close and as he pulls out of the pounding kiss, to brush his lips over hers - sensing out her urges - she feels it, tries to catch him up in another kiss but he pulls back, smiles cheekily and moves down to her neck.
At the sensation, Hannah’s face breaks into a grin, fingers clutching at him to keep his mouth in place. Smooth and hot, he licks swift strikes before opening his mouth in a vacuum over the tender spot beneath her jaw line. Finally, he lowers his weight and it’s still the most comforting thing Hannah has ever felt - weight, pressure, support, protection, possession and desire - it’s his torso moulding itself into the hard lines of hers. She hitches her thigh around the points of his hip, hooking her right leg around him and cradling his rocking pressure against her, feeling like frail ivy girl, awkward and coltish against someone who is already a man.
His mouth releases its hold on her neck with a soft pop and Hannah breathes roughly in relief and regret. She sees a dark flash of his eyes, and then he trails distracted kisses over her décolletage, hesitating over the small mounds of her breasts beneath her camisole. She can feel his breath through the material and hers increases, hands trembling as they trace distracted circles over his naked, freckled shoulders. His hands are at her shoulders and he rubs them as he moves to his knees.
She watches his eyes snap up to hers, capturing her attention. Deliberately, he passes both hands over her breasts at once, stopping when his fingertips are barely touching the hypersensitive underside before bringing them up to cup the soft mounds simultaneously. Hannah’s eyes are round, focused on his face as her body arches into that touch. His face doesn’t noticeably register her reaction but he lowers his body slightly between her thighs, puffing hot breaths in the valley of her chest and he briefly circles each nipple with his pointer fingers. Hannah makes a noise then bites down on her lip, unsure if that’s allowed.
Her hips are still squirming and she knows it’s to the rhythm of the song and wonders if that’s why he chose such a slow song because she might have been doing something epileptic if he’d left it on a dance number and maybe she’s gone crazy because her breathing is out of control and she’s losing all thought processes and what is he-oh.
His hand is up her shirt, stroking the slight slope of her concaved stomach as his eyes focus in on her scatterbrained face. She tries to smile because yes, oh god yes, whatever it is you’re doing, the answer is yes! but she’s trembling. It’s excitement, she knows it is, but adrenaline is adrenaline and it all feels the same. Fear. Excitement. Fear. Excitement. It’s all Logan Echolls and this fast paced heart and she doesn’t know how to make him see that everything’s okay and she’s not a baby even if she is his princess.
Whatever he sees, it’s reassuring enough, and he’s undoing the buckle of her belt while she holds onto his shoulder and bites her lip. Her hips shift around in anticipation of helping him buck those jeans off (why did she change into something so inaccessible anyway?) but he doesn’t seem to mind the obstacle they pose. As soon as the buckle pops beneath one dexterous hand, he grabs her hips with quiet force and lifts the naked stretch of her stomach into his open mouth. There’s purpose in each lick and her hands flutter about her hips clutching and slipping on the leather for purchase as she rocks into each slow stroke. He’s moving lower and she’s feeling phantom strokes over her panties, feels herself getting embarrassingly wet as she pants through bright red lips.
Her eyes are wide with focus and excitement when she feels his tongue brush low enough to strike the rough texture of pubic hair. It’s a strange enough feeling to make her flinch. Her thighs squeeze down on his head slightly, but he doesn’t seem to mind. His fingers dig into her jeans and he tugs quick and hard - once, twice - until she pushes off the couch with her feet and arches her hips enough for him to pull those jean halfway down her thighs. He sits up and abruptly yanks them off completely, tossing them over his shoulder.
Hannah sits up too and reaches for the buckle of his jeans, tugging with shaking, eager hands. Her slender fingers can feel the aching hardness beneath the rough denim and for a moment she presses down, too curious by half. He grunts and she feels an answering pounding between her own legs, nuzzling her forehead under his neck as her body shivers.
He sits on his heels and she can feel the fierce burn of his stare in her forehead as her hair brushes against his chest while she tugs. She presses her mouth shyly between his pectoral muscles, sliding her tongue tentatively over the coarse, sparse hairs leading down to his waist. He lets out a puff of air against her crown and his hands drift over her naked shoulders. The button on his jeans pops open and he clutches her arms once before sliding his hands up to her neck and tilting her face up.
Hannah’s mouth drops open at the look on his face but before she can say a word he’s pulled her up to him, wrapping one arm around her dainty waist while the other rips her camisole over her head. Hannah jumps up to meet the dark plumes of his mouth with her own, wrapping her arms around his chest. He does the rest. Pulls her knees up off the lounge and wraps her body around his waist again. Her naked breasts are crushed against his chest and she gasps, rubbing herself against him while she’s flying through the air - glorying in the rich friction - and then her back flops back onto the couch, trapping his hand momentarily beneath the sweat slicked slope of her back. He pulls her hips until her thighs are spread wide over his, eyes devouring the straight lines of her long torso down to the pink lace panties pressed against his open fly.
His grin has a certain wickedness to it when he bends over her, licking a long line with the tip of his tongue from the middle of her breasts, down, down, down to the chalice of her naval. He lingers there, cupping her backside and lifting it up so he can feel her groin pressing into the top of his chest, her delicious ass clenching and sweating in his hands. When he kisses her over the damp patch in the lace, she emits a high pitched noise that makes Logan smile.
He sits back, lets her legs flop open and lifeless around his waist and slowly drags her panties down while she watches heavy lidded and sprawled open and wet beneath him. Hannah wonders what she must look like but doesn’t particularly care when his fingers brush over her naked curls. Her eyes drift down the steady heaving of his chest, past the wiry hair and unbuckled latch of his jeans to where his fingers are probing at her. The sight is dizzying and surreal but she focuses and shifts up, begging, until he presses a single digit into her. It’s a surface scratch to a deeper ache and Hannah whinnies in frustration, shifting for more.
She makes the strange noise again and Logan’s head snaps up, eyes focusing on the open lines of her mouth. She clutches her hand over it, trying to get a little control and focus on that feeling. Logan keeps moving his finger in and out, around, but he’s also leaning over her now, panting hard as she coos in pleasure against her own palm.
Hannah’s forehead wrinkles when he bends over, pulling her hand away only to replace it over her breast with a stern look. She almost laughs but then he pushes a second finger into her and she moans louder instead, wide eyes locking on the pleased glint in his. Then he bends down to press his closed mouth against her open lips. He presses fast, sharp kisses down her torso, rubbing himself against her while one hand squeezes her breast and the other rubs distracted, clutching rhythms over his descending head.
Soon her underwear is off and he’s rubbing his teeth along her thigh, easing the v of her legs open as she moves deliriously beneath him. When the wet throb of her arousal rubs against his cheek, he grunts and bites down.
“AHHHH!” She cries out and bucks up so hard that she almost dislodges him. He clutches the outside of her thighs to keep himself in place and turns his head at last, swiping his tongue over her labia without hesitation.
Hannah mewls and rubs her hands over her stomach, feeling drunk on sensuality, but more desperate to feel some part of him than any of herself. When her searching fingers brush his face, he looks up at her, still sucking in a steady, slow rhythm over her clitoris. Hannah’s eyes glaze over and she smiles faintly before arching her head back. She tries to keep her hips still, unsure what the etiquette is when he’s down there putting his neck at risk to the power of her thighs as it is. She tries to stay still by clutching her hair but it doesn’t work, especially when he slips his free hand under her to clutch her ass, lifting her in a semi-rhythm that Hannah soon follows subconsciously.
His fingers move inside her, curling over something that makes her mutter and stretch - everything pulsing - and then he clamps down forcefully over her clit. Everything tightens - inside and out - and she feels like she wants to curl into a ball to centre the feeling in her whole body, feel her whole self pressed tight against naked flesh. Instead, all she feels is Logan and his perfect mouth: his clutching hands, his sucking mouth, and the sweating surface of the leather that has become adhesive against her back. Still, she cries out, trembles bursting in her thighs, her breast aching beneath her clutching hand. She slumps beneath him, whimpering and spasming in the wash of her second ever orgasm.
He doesn’t pull away but eases off the pressure, removing his fingers as his tongue starts swiping long slow strokes again, easing her through the aftermath of twitches. Her eyes open drowsily and it’s only when she moves to sit up that he releases her. He sits up so slowly that Hannah’s eyes are drawn down to his crotch. She’d blush if her face was capable of getting any more flushed, but instead she lazily rolls up and crawls to him, straddling the erection that’s so obvious now it’s almost paining her. He cups one cheek of her ass and lifts her brushing the damp, cunt-moistened mouth against her neck.
Her hand slips down, trying to ease the pressure on his dick by moving his zipper all the way down. He hisses and she pulls the denim away from his flesh, trying to keep the sharp teeth from digging into anything too sensitive. Nonetheless, she’s amused, and her giggles get lost in Logan’s scowling mouth when he bends his head to kiss her.
“Mmmm…” she frowns, trying not to concentrate on the taste of herself even though it’s so obviously there and all she can think of is fishcakes and the fact she hates fishcakes and how could he possibly enjoy doing that if that’s what it tastes like? He bites down on her lower lip and she pushes her hand into his open pants, wrapping her hand around his cock and squeezing in retaliation. Logan grunts and releases her mouth, the loud smack sounding terribly loud in the pause between songs. Then he’s lifting her under her arms, pulling her up and almost through his chest.
They stumble toward his bedroom, her long legs feeling even more coltish now that they are trembling with competing sensations of satisfaction and anticipation. She doesn’t care, she’s focused on little things like his bed (or couch) tussled hair and the scratch of his slightly stubbly cheek against the long stretch of her throat. His lips, desperate and urgent against hers. There’s no hesitation in each kiss now, it’s an open grind complete with clacking teeth and Hannah squirms every time he massages his tongue along the underside of hers.
Her nipples are pinching, she’s so aroused, and she’d be scared of how fast and hard she wants this to be if it wasn’t happening and she wasn’t helping him do it to her. He lets her fall on his mattress, standing between her open thighs. She scoots back in a quick crab crawl as he lowers his body over hers. When he bends to remove his jeans she impatiently pulls him down until he’s crushing her into his bedspread, flicking pillows off the mattress with flailing arms.
She lifts up and captures his mouth, moaning out her pleasure when his hands stroke down the outside of her breasts, all down her sides and back up again, pushing his pelvis into her. Hannah is busy squirming around underneath him, grunting in frustration as she flexibly uses her feet to push down on his loose jeans. For a moment she’s annoyed that he isn’t helping her until she realizes he’s fumbling in the pocket of his jeans for a condom. He flicks it on the mattress and shifts to his knees while she redoubles her efforts with her feet until his jeans loosen their grip and slide down his legs. Hannah makes a noise of satisfaction and Logan chuckles into her mouth, gripping her face to kiss her harder.
His mouth slides off hers for a moment when his pants finally reach his feet and he takes the time to kick them off. Then he lets his whole weight fall on her again, pushing his hands under her neck to clutch her hair. She smiles eagerly when she feels his erection pressing into her belly, and automatically pushes her hips into his, smiling into a face staring so seriously back at her.
His hands cup her face so softly that she stops the desperate clutching of her limbs to focus on him. She wants to stay still and savour him like he’s savouring her but her breathing is out of control and she can’t stop her chest from intermittently brushing against his with every pant. She can feel the cracked nail of his thumb brushing beneath her lower lip and she smiles with a queer shyness, flushing with tenderness under his scrutiny. Slowly she raises her own hand to cup his cheek and his eyes close, pushing his face into her palm.
He breaths in two fierce, desperate breaths and when he opens his eyes there’s a pained look of desperation there that she’s never seen before. He lifts a hand to grab her hand from his face, lowering it to help him open the condom packet. When that’s done he meets her gaze hotly, moving her hand down to his cock. Hannah gasps but doesn’t withdraw, closing her fist around him as she desperately tries to clear the fog of lust so she can remember what he showed her last time. Slowly she moves the condom down his shaft, squeezing intermittently. He closes a fist over hers, shifting his hips closer. Hannah nods twice and then readjusts her grip, leading him to her.
She braces her feet by his hips and breathes so harshly she thinks she might hyperventilate. His head droops in a way that almost feels like defeat until he presses his forehead tenderly into hers, shifts his hips and then pushes forward. Hannah breathes between her teeth and pushes back into him, easing the entry of his cock into her orgasm slicked channel. His lips press an incongruently chaste kiss against her lips and then his whole body withdraws like a piston reversing.
Hannah grimaces and Logan slows his forward thrust, concerned, but she shakes her head. It doesn’t hurt, not like last time, just feels a little awkward and uncomfortable. She shifts her hips, evening out the spread of his weight and refocusing the angle of each thrust. Gradually she starts to feel better, each push feels smooth and wanted and his dick feels more like the missing piece of her body than an intruder forcing her body to submit to its hard angles. She pushes back against him and sighs, letting the slow build of pleasure guide her shifting hips in an up and down swell, rippling ever outwards in widening circles. On and on.
“Han-nah?” His voice is a breath against her cheek and she meets his gaze, smiling that sex-drunk smile that made him laugh at her when she pressed it to his chest the first time. He doesn’t smile this time even though his eyes are glittering, his body too turned on to do much but pull back and push in.
“It’s good. Mmm, good.” Her feet push up from the mattress causing her hips to snap up into his harder. He grunts and slams his pelvis down into hers. Their hips crack together and she hisses out, startled by how that pain twists and perverts itself into a deep tightening knot of pleasure inside her. “I need-”
In truth, she doesn’t know what she needs, but she needs something. Logan speeds up and she gasps in happy surprise. The pleasure seems to increase and she smiles dizzily, rising with him, hands fumbling over his chest and when she can’t get a good grip - sliding round to grip his ass.
“Fuck,” Logan pauses and then seems to cry out in agony and begins pounding into her. The bed shakes and squeaks beneath her and it takes a moment for her to catch her breath, eyes bugging out in surprise. She can’t quite grasp his rhythm and it seems like he doesn’t have one - this is all just a crazed, lustful pounding because he’s lost all control. Her heart is thudding beneath her rib cage and she doesn’t care about anything but this, this, this. He grips her breasts and then slips his hands under her shoulders, pulling her chest up into his. She can feel him nodding to himself, head bowed into her shoulder, then running over her chest - and his dick is a constant movement inside her, sending sharp darts of pleasure into a hot well of pleasure bubbling steadily toward a second orgasm.
Too soon, he loses control snapping his hips to hers and releasing a deep groan of satisfaction. She knows he’s coming by the way his whole tense frame seems to loosen, droop down and melt into her own. He slumps over her, still slightly rigid inside the sticky clasp of her body.
Hannah smiles, dreamily stroking three lines up his back through the thick line of sweat. She holds him to her, trying to ignore the muscles insider her that are still steadily squeezing down on his spent cock, instinctively reaching out for the peak she didn’t quite hit.
When Logan lifts his gelatinous arms to push his body off hers, Hannah mumbles a sound of protest, whining and pouting playfully up at him as he withdraws. Logan mock glares down at her.
“You think it’s painful for you” His eyes seem to say and Hannah giggles, stretching out beneath him. Content to curl up with her frustration and the pleasant high tingles even this unsatisfied lust has been left crying throughout her body.
But Logan pushes her legs open again and lowers his trembling hand, rubbing steady and increasingly hard circles around her clitoris. Hannah is so surprised he’d even notice, he’d even bother, that she lets out a shocked scream and almost jumps a foot in the air. Logan pushes her back down, chuckling at her and then redoubles his efforts until she’s a moaning mess. She arched up toward his face until he grants her a sloppy, wet kiss full of tenderness. Then she comes, biting down on his chin until her spent body loosens its grip and she flops back on the mattress. Exhausted.
He collapses beside her only a second later, turning onto his back with his arm thrown over his face, panting harshly into his elbow. For a moment they say nothing and then Logan notices the bed shaking. He moves his arm and looks lazily over at her. She’s quivering in silent laughter, clutching at her chest as her fingers move over her skin: marvelling at the sensuality that has overcome her, what this fleshy expanse is capable of feeling.
“Are you going to do this every time we have sex?” He asks with amused curiosity.
“I don’t know,” she laughs, bubbling with happiness so infectious that Logan can’t help but slant an amused grin back even though his forehead is still wrinkling in lines of disconcertion. “Is this not normal?”
“I don’t know. Are you trying to tell me I’m not normal? Do I have weird post-coital habits that just crack you up?”
“How would I know? You could be the weirdest freak in the world and I’d have no idea.” She licks her lips, curling toward him on the mattress, shy once more in the aftermath, if no less eager to be near him. “I’ve got nothing to compare this feeling to.”
“What feeling?” His voice lilts with good humour.
“Overwhelmed,” she tilts her shoulder toward her ear, shrugging bashfully. Smiling when his eyes glitter indulgently back at her. “Happy. I don’t know if I’ll feel this way every time or just…” she takes the opportunity to crawl across the bed into his arms and hide her blushing face in his chest.
“Princess, if this is your way of getting my permission to play around with other boys so that you can show me proper, informed appreciation of my work, it’s not going to work. I can handle the hysterical laughing fits, bruised ego or not.”
Hannah smiles indulgently pressing an open mouthed kiss to his shoulder before pulling her long, coltish legs up and over his hips to negotiate a position in between his calves.
“I laugh too much. I get told that all the time.”
Logan says nothing, just runs his hand up and down her back, snuggling closer to her now that their sweat has started to cool. As she continues to talk, he reaches over and folds the quilt over their bodies, better to keep her in close proximity all night.
“My friends say I laugh when I’m nervous but the truth is I laugh whenever I feel…whenever I feel too much.”
“It’s better than crying.”
“You’ve been with someone who cried?” Hannah’s face pinched, slightly put out by his comparison.
“Or yawning,” Logan continued without acknowledging her perturbed tone. “I’d hate to bore you.”
Hannah smiles at the irony in his too-confident voice. “You don’t believe that’s possible?”
“You’ve done wonders for my self esteem. Aren’t you happy with yourself?” She scowls playfully and twists his nipple suddenly between her conveniently located nails. Logan yelps and she laughs.
“Deliriously.”
“Kinky minx,” he mutters, sliding his hand covertly up her torso to return the favour.
She bats him away and grabs his face for a quick playful smooch. Effectively distracted, Logan lowers his upper torso back on top of her and sinks in for a leisurely French kiss. Hannah moans, loosening her lithe figure beneath him until she feels a sharp pain in her left breast. Breaking away with a cry, she scowls into Logan’s chuckling face and shoves him off her quietly rubbing her bruised, oversensitive nipple beneath the quilt.
After a moment she stops and looks at his smiling face. “Logan…” The unsure question in her voice makes his chuckles die down and he turns his head toward her. “Do you think my dad will be upset with me? Okay with this? Eventually?” She asks it quietly, afraid of how he’ll react to her dad coming between them so soon after they have just been as close as two people can be to each other. But her eyes are wide with quiet hope and Logan’s face doesn’t show any anger when he answers.
“He can’t tell you who you can be with and I could care less about keeping my word with someone like him.”
Hannah shifts uncomfortably, unsure how to respond to his derision of some she still loves.
“Hey,” his fingers brush her jaw, pulling her face back around to his. “I’ll teach you how to tune into another station when the yelling starts.”
“Plenty of practice, huh?”
“I was promoted from the amateur league a long time ago.”
Her nails scratch into his chest for a moment, so light and titillating that Logan needs to draw a restraining breath. She pauses and looks up at him unsurely.
“What if he’s angry at you?”
He raises an eyebrow. She’s terrified and he must see it on her face because he hesitates over a smart comment, smiles softly then presses a lingering kiss to her forehead. A smile twitches on her lips; she loves it when he does that.
“You know me. I’m nothing if not about self preservation. I wouldn’t be here if I was worried I couldn’t take him in an arm wrestle for your soiled virtue.”
“You’d think those instincts of self preservation would have made you say I’m worth the risk.”
“Were you going to reward me with a blow job?”
She blushes bright red and turns her back to him, trying to hide her red face. He kisses the back of her neck and whispers, “You’re worth the risk,” so sombrely and reverently that Hannah bursts into giggles again, snuggling her face deeper into the soft pillow.
“If I didn’t know better, Princess, I’d think you were high.”
Her laughter trails off until she turns to beam up at him, not holding a thing back from her expression, not a feeling or thought. Logan’s eyes feel like they’re absorbing everything she radiates, revelling in the radiance she gives out. Hannah basks for a moment, softening the beam of a smile to a tender grin. Just when she senses he’s about to kiss her, she whispers, “I love you,” with her fingers curled hesitantly over her mouth.
Logan tenses and her hand moves, revealing a serenity of understanding in her face that obviously makes him uncomfortable. He watches her, wary, and she smiles shyly.
“I know.”
“What?”
“I know you don’t feel that way yet.”
“Hannah-”
“I just felt like I was bursting. Is that silly? I mean, it’s okay if you don’t,” she stutters. “I’m not trying to pressure you-and wow, there’s no way to avoid the clichés in this conversation.”
He hates this whole conversation for more than just the clichés but bailing is not an option when she’s already reached the forgiveness quota of a saint. He holds her tighter but looks away, scrambling inside his head to figure this out before he says something rash.
“I don’t,” he says and, whoa, that came out far too blunt. She blinks at him and he continues, “I don’t want to lie to you any more. It makes me feel worse than…well, I’ve had a bad year and I considered it my lowest point when I saw the look on your face. Given the competition, that says something, right?”
“I’m not asking you to lie to me.”
“Hearing that? It makes me want to lie to you. I want to make you happy. I want to give you what you want.”
She’s frowning with hurt and she looks adorable, even as she pulls away, wrapping the bedspread around her protectively.
“I’m…sorry . . .” her voice fades into a disconcerted mumble, “I guess…”
“Don’t be sorry,” his frustration shows. “I’m in a dark place, Hannah.”
“You’re not going to start going on about how you’re not a sweet guy again, are you? I know you, Logan.”
He looks away from her. “You know a part of me.” His face is shadowed in the room but she can tell by his body language alone that he’s withdrawing, feeling vulnerable. “I’d do anything to make sure you never know certain things about me. You can’t see it but I’m so far away from you.”
“If I’m far away from you it’s only because you ruined my cuddling mood.”
He looks at the gap that’s opened up between them on the mattress and snorts. A playfully predatory look spreads across his face and he pounces, scooping her down into his arms. She wrestles, giggling reluctantly before quieting as he shifts her around until he’s spooning behind her, kissing along the back of her shoulders and neck penitently. She sighs and wiggles her feet against his legs, sliding them between his calves for some warmth. He holds her tight and breathes in.
“Stay with me. You’re radiant and I can see you, feel you, and I’ll get there. I promise.” He whispers it into her neck and Hannah holds his arms, crossed over her chest, tears itching behind her closed eyelids.
“I like when you don’t lie to me,” she whispers.
“New and refreshing, huh?”
“A girl could get used to it.”
“I wouldn’t want to spoil you.”
“I think you’ve already spoiled me. Twice.”
“A guy could get used to that.”
“You want to make a deal?”
“I think I’m done with deals for the foreseeable future. I don’t seem to hold up my end of the bargain.”
She pinches his arm hard.
“That’s one pro for spooning. You can’t reach my nipples any more.”
She ignores him. “Every time you lie to me from now on, that’s one less time we’ll have sex.”
Dead silence.
“Does that mean every time I tell the truth that’s one more time we will have sex?”
She can hear the smile in his voice and automatically tenses.
“I didn’t say that.”
“It was implied.”
The silence stretches with anticipation, Hannah biting down on her lips and trying to curl further into her own pillow. Just then, Logan leans over her and whispers in her ear, sliding his hand provocatively over her hip and then down over the tender skin of her inner thigh. She sucks in a breath, arching her head until his tongue lashes out to taste the shell of her ear.
“Hey Hannah? Did you know that the sky is in fact blue? It is. So are your eyes by the way. Blue, blue, blue.” He’s trying to roll her onto her back and she’s giggling. “Honest to God!”
“Logan!”
“That’s two truths. I’ll have to work on my stamina, huh? You must be ravenous by now.”
She squeals with laughter as he smiles, swooping down to kiss her open lips. Muffled giggles hum warmly between them as they wrestle, flicking the quilt open in a burst of renewed desire.
- End.