The End of Innocence, part 1 - L/V - NC-17 - rindee
Title: The End of Innocence, part 1
Author: Rindee
Rating: NC-17, sexual situations, language, implied violence
Characters/Pairing: Logan/Veronica, Lilly, implied Lilly/Weevil, and Aaron Echolls.
Word Count: 5,145 for this part - about 12,220 total
Spoilers/warnings: AU preseries fic about Logan and Veronica's growing passion for each other - spoilers for some events from S1.
A/N: Sequel to A Taste of Innocence, and Another Taste, this fic begins where the last one ended, so it might be helpful to have read Another Taste. Written for the "Dire Straits - Not the Band" challenge at vm_library. Beta'd by some of my very favorite people: inthevast, who always has the most unique perspective, moire2, who nails me when I eff-up the characterization, rejeneration, who challenges me on everything, bless her perfectionist soul, kimikochan, who magically transformed the troublesome transitions, and, of course, Madame Librarian, taken_with_you, who is simply the best evah, and who always knows the answer(s). All remaining mistakes are mine.
“No,” Veronica whispers. “Don’t touch me. Don’t ever touch me again.”
Ignoring her command, Logan again reaches out, wrapping his lithe fingers around her upper arm. “I didn’t say anything to anyone, Mars, least of all Duncan. You’d better come in.” She jerks her arm, but Logan doesn’t release her. “Please, Veronica. Come inside and talk to me.”
Twisting free from his grip, she turns sideways and slides by, careful not to touch any part of his body. Inside the Echolls’ pool house, she crosses her arms defensively over her chest, and stares, her glittering sapphire eyes radiating hurt, betrayal, and anger.
“So,” Logan begins, firmly shutting the door behind, watching as she paces the length of the room.
Sighing, she turns finally, fingers swiping at the mascara tracks beneath her eyes. “So?”
He gestures to a chair. “Sit, please. Let me get you some water.” Her book bag thuds to the carpet as she slumps into the seat, closes her eyes to the tension of the day. From behind the bar, he orders, “Tell me what happened.” He stands, two cold plastic bottles in hand. “Veronica,” he pleads, concerned. “What did Duncan say?”
“He didn’t say much, really,” she begins, her voice soft, but clear, “just that things between us haven’t been good, and he didn’t think I wanted to be with him anymore.”
He wordlessly presses a cool bottle into her hand before slouching to one knee and leaning on the arm of the chair. She gives him a tight, grudging smile and takes a sip before continuing.
“And, maybe he’s right, Logan, but why would Duncan say I didn’t want to be with him?” She turns, eyes meeting his; he lowers his head, scrubs his hand across his forehead. “Unless someone told him about ... us.”
“I told you before, I didn’t say anything. Why would I, Veronica? What would I have to gain?”
“I don’t know.” She leans back to get a better look at him, and, anxiously biting her bottom lip, offers, “Maybe you wanted ... Lilly to find out?”
His head snaps up, his knuckles whitening as his fists clench reflexively. “No. No. No. No fucking way. I told you - I am not using you to get back at Lilly. It’s - we’re over.” He shakes his head violently. “Finished. Through.” He draws in a deep breath, exhales, shakes out his hands and arms. “I knew we were over even before you told me about ... Weevil.” He stares at her until she nods her acceptance. “So, it wasn’t me, Veronica. Try again. Who else could have told him?”
“I don’t know. Who else even knows? Think about it. You and Duncan are ... best friends,” her voice cracks as she remembers just how close he and Duncan have been lately. “When he and I went out last week - ” She stops abruptly, gazes vacantly over Logan’s shoulder at the pool just beyond the glass doors. “You don’t think it’s because ... because I wouldn’t....” She swallows heavily, and he can see the tears welling again.
Exploding to his feet, Logan stalks away, takes a few deep breaths and whirls around. “Poor you. Stop it, Veronica. Just stop acting all innocent and tortured - you’re beginning to remind me of Lilly. Besides, why do you even care what DK expects? Last time I checked, it wasn’t his dick you had your hands around. Oh, and, by the way, he doesn’t think you’re that kind of girl, so maybe he broke up with you because he’s just not into you - ” He can see her lip beginning to quiver, so he rushes on, “or, maybe, he’s noticed you’re not that into him anymore.”
“What do you mean by that?”
A smirk flirts across his mouth, but quickly vanishes in the face of her obvious distress. “Well,” he drops to his knees at her feet, sets his elbows on the arms of the chair, “it’s not as if you’ve spent much time with good ol’ Donut, lately, have you?” he murmurs seductively.
His meaning is unmistakable, and her cheeks pink in response. He bends to kiss the hand wrapped tightly around the water bottle, lasciviously licking the moisture droplets from each finger.
“Don’t,” she begs in a choked voice. “I’m not - you can’t just - ”
“Shhh,” he soothes apologetically, wiggling closer, planting himself between her thighs. “I told you, I’m not going to hurt you,” he whispers, his mouth mere inches from her ear. “I think I’d kill anyone who tried....” He kisses her nose, presses his forehead to hers. “You believe me, don’t you?”
Lips parted, she gazes up at him, helpless under his smoldering, possessive stare. Her answering nod is tremulous, her voice feeble. “Ye - yes, I believe you.”
When he kisses her, sixteen ounces of Evian slide unheeded to the floor as her fingers wind ‘round his forearms. Bringing him down on top of her, she relaxes for the first time since entering the pool house. Twining his fingers in her long, thick hair, he pulls gently, levering her chin into the air to expose her pale, graceful throat. As he massages the tender skin with the flat of his thumb, she murmurs, “Stop, Logan.” Ignoring her whispered plea, he sweeps his tongue into the warmth of her mouth.
“Logan. Stop!” Jerking her head to the side, she pants, “I thought I heard something. Is anyone home?” she asks, eyes wide and startled.
“‘S okay. No one’s here, no one can see us.” He studies her face, noticing her fearful countenance. “What’s wrong, Veronica? What are you afraid of?”
Shoving ineffectually at his chest, she sits up, tightens her grip on his arm. “No - nothing, really. I ... it’s just ... I don’t think I want to see your dad right now.” At once, his face darkens. She squeezes him. “I promised I wouldn’t say anything, and I won’t, but Logan, you have to tell someone what he’s doing to you. You have to.”
Breaking her grasp, he pulls away. “You just can’t leave it alone, can’t you? I told you, there’s nothing anyone can do. Besides, half the time, I deserve it.”
Pushing up his sleeve, she rubs her fingertip along the dime-sized, raised ridge in the crook of his elbow. “No one deserves that,” she continues staunchly, her voice low but steady. “It’s child abuse, Logan. He could be prosecuted for what he does to you, and he should be.”
“I told you to leave it,” he says as he shakes her off and stands, his voice thick with emotion. “Don’t you think I want to make him stop?” He strides to the glass door, slapping it hard enough to make the frame rattle. “Don’t you think my mother’s tried?” he grits out over his shoulder.
She scrambles up out of the chair and approaches him cautiously. “I know it can’t be easy, but if you make a report - ”
“You don’t know anything, Veronica. You know less than nothing.” He spins to glare at her, defiant and enraged. “Your father’s the Sheriff - ”
“And he can help you!”
“And he’d never - ”
“I care about you....”
“Then leave it alone! It’s none of your business. I’m telling you, it won’t help. It’ll only make things worse. You don’t know him like I do.” Heaving the sliding door open with a crash, Logan stomps out to the pool deck, looking around like a caged animal suddenly freed.
Trailing him to the doorway, Veronica waits and watches as his eyes roam over the patio furniture and pool equipment. He spies a stack of cushions, stalks over, and, in a burst of rage, begins kicking and punching them, grunting and cursing with each swing. Frightened by his belligerence, Veronica looks away.
“You should listen to him, Veronica,” a voice hisses, close to her ear.
“Oh my God,” she blurts, jumping back in shock. “You scared - I - I didn’t hear you come in, Mr. Echolls.”
His fingers close over her bare upper arm as he propels her away from the window. “I’ve told you, dear, you must call me Aaron. But really, you might want to listen to my son when he tells you to mind your own business,” he advises with unconcealed ire, his fingers digging deep into her musculature.
Shaking like a rag doll, she stammers, “I ... I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mr. Echolls.” If Logan is angry, Aaron Echolls is full-on enraged, she thinks, twisting and cowering under his snapping eyes and infuriated grimace.
“I think you do, Veronica,” he continues, yanking her further from the glass and shoving her toward a corner that can’t be seen from the pool area. “And I told you to call me, Aaron, young lady. Mr. Echolls was my old man - he was a louse and a drunk. A pathetic, mean drunk who never made more than twelve thousand a year,” he adds with a sneer. “I tipped my house staff more than that last year,” he brags, walking her backward until she’s pressed against the wall. “Now, then, Verrronica,” he says menacingly. “Did I hear you say something about reporting me to the police?”
Terrified speechless, Veronica gasps, shriveling under Aaron Echolls’ fury. “What’s that?” he barks. “I didn’t hear you. C’mon, Verrronica, you’re a smart girl. Do you really think you can turn my own son against me?” he facetiously inquires, his every word dripping venom as he looms above her, invading her personal space. “He’s my son, and he does what I tell him to. Do you understand me?”
“Please - you’re hurting me,” she blurts, trying to slide down the wall and out of his grasp. “Take your hand off of me, Mister Ech - Aaron. You’ve already committed assault, and I’m sure my father, the Sheriff, won’t be happy to hear about it,” she continues, attempting to regain her composure, but trembling like a leaf.
“You just ... don’t ... get it,” Aaron growls ominously, jamming his forearm across her windpipe and raising it so her toes barely touch the floor. “He’s my son, and I do what I want - ”
“Veronica! Get your hands off of her!” Logan yells, flying into the room. “Dad! Let her go,” he hollers, grabbing Aaron’s shoulder and spinning him around.
Veronica crumples to the floor, breathless and gagging. Before she can utter a word, Logan’s drawn back his fist, crashing it into Aaron’s mouth. Although the punch hits its mark, it barely registers on Aaron’s contorted, scowling face. Rubbing his jaw, Aaron’s eyes light with a maniacal gleam.
“You’re making a mistake, son, she’s not worth it. She’s trouble,” he announces with a snarl.
“How would you know, Dad? Because she hasn’t fallen all over herself trying to kiss your ass?” Logan replies, scorn evident in his voice. Unclenching his fingers, he slings them and winces; his knuckles are puffy and raw.
“Logan,” Veronica pleads, struggling to her feet. “Don’t, please.”
Logan turns to her, but as he does, Aaron lunges, slamming his fist into the side of Logan’s face. As Logan staggers forward, doubles over, Aaron kicks at him, his booted foot catching Logan in the ribs. Stunned, Veronica cries out, “Stop it!”
“Get outta here, Veronica,” Logan wheezes, fists jabbing wildly as he wobbles backward, eyes trained on his father. Edging away from them, Veronica fumbles frantically in her backpack as Aaron and Logan crouch and circle each other, each looking for the advantage. With an open hand, Aaron slaps Logan, the crack resounding like a gunshot in the glass room.
Finding the small, black canister she’d been searching for, she twirls it in her palm and eases cautiously toward the two men. Sidling up behind Logan, she puts one hand on his hip; the other is concealed at her side. “I thought I told you to get out of here,” he mutters, twisting to shield her as Aaron moves closer.
“I’m not leaving you here,” she whispers, wrapping her fingers in the fabric of his shirt. “I have mace,” she adds.
With a guttural cry, Aaron darts toward them. Before Logan can react, Veronica raises the tiny aluminum can and squirts it directly into Aaron’s face. “You fucking little bitch!” he screams, dropping to his knees and clawing at his eyes.
Shocked, Logan freezes momentarily as, almost robotically, Veronica continues to disperse pepper spray at Aaron, even as her own eyes water. “I think that’s enough, Veronica,” Logan gasps, coughing as he wraps an arm around her waist. “Let’s go. Let’s get outta here, okay?” he urges, tugging her toward the door, away from the choking clouds.
In a minute, the two are pounding down the walkway. Pulling a set of keys from his pocket, Logan hits the remote and yanks open the door of the brand new, yellow Xterra sitting at the side of the driveway.
“Get in,” he pants.
“But...” she objects, shooting him a quizzical glance. “You can’t drive. You don’t have a license.”
“Just get in,” he orders with barely-restrained impatience. “We don’t have time to worry about legal niceties. I have my permit.”
Shrugging, Veronica clambers in with a frown. Logan slams the door behind her and hustles to the driver’s side. “Buckle-up,” he advises, checking the egress over his shoulder. Gunning the engine, he careens backward down the drive, and skids into the street like a race car driver or stunt man.
“I’ve always wanted to try that,” he confides with a smirk and a wink.
“Let’s just go, Logan,” she breathes, her voice quivering in an apparent delayed reaction.
“We are,” he promises, reaching over to lace his fingers in hers. “It’s gonna be okay, okay? Trust me.” He waits until her eyes find his and, when she nods hesitantly, he puts the SUV in drive and peels away.
A few minutes later, once they’re out of the Echolls’ glitzy, elegantly-manicured, gated neighborhood, Veronica heaves a sigh of relief. Her head tumbles to the seatback, and her eyes flutter shut. “I’m so sorry, Logan,” she quavers, tears beginning to spill, one at a time, over her stark, blanched cheeks.
Without looking, he brings her hand to his mouth and brushes his lips over it. “It’s over now, and you don’t have anything to be sorry for. No telling what he would have done, Veronica, if you hadn’t ... stopped him.”
“I hope I didn’t hurt your - Aar - him.”
“He’ll live,” Logan responds brusquely, changing the subject. “So, where are we going, m’lady?” And, when she doesn’t reply, “Ice cream at the Pier? Spaghetti at Luigi’s? Burgers? We could go to In-n-Out, or maybe you want - ”
“It’s okay, I’m alright, Logan. You don’t have to fuss so much. I’m happy to go wherever you want. But - food would be good. I think I could eat.”
Guffawing loudly, Logan proclaims, “That’s my girl. There’s the Mars I know and love.” Wiping away her tears with the back of her hand, she smiles. “Okay, cheeseburgers on the beach it is!”
~~*~~*~~*~~
The beach is nearly deserted and blissfully silent as they perch on the tailgate of the Xterra, legs dangling. Shoulder to shoulder, they munch on burgers, fries, and sip their chocolate shakes as the sun turns russet gold and trails toward shimmering navy depths. Licking her fingers, Veronica grins happily, smacking her lips as she wads up the burger wrapper.
“Get enough to eat?” Logan teases, chuckling as he waves his fries under her nose. “How do you maintain your girlish figure, Miss Mars?” he inquires, giving her a sideways glance.
“Shut up, Logan.” Reaching across her body, she slugs him with her right hand.
“Hey! Watch it. I still know all your ticklish spots,” he threatens, grabbing her arm and pulling her to him. Molding her body to his, she slips her fingers under his shirt. He kisses the top of her head, inhaling her unique fragrance as he rubs his cheek through the sheen.
“You forget, Echolls, I know yours, too,” she retorts, doing the ‘itsy bitsy spider’ up his ribcage. Wincing suddenly, his body stiffens and he sucks in a quick breath. “Oh my God,” she huffs. “I forgot. Did he hurt you? Let me see.”
Slipping from his embrace, she hops off the edge and crowds between his outstretched legs. Pulling at the hem of his tee, she looks up at him with a worried frown. “It’s nothing, really. I’ll be sore for a day or two, but I don’t think anything’s broken.”
“Let me see,” she demands, drumming her fingers impatiently on his knee. “Your hand, too.” Realizing protest would be futile, Logan extends his bruised knuckles for her inspection. Clucking absently, she pushes at the purplish tissue.
“Ow. Dammit, Veronica, that hurts,” he complains, wiggling in discomfort.
“We should put some ice on it,” she advises. “Take your shirt off, let me see your chest,” she orders, business-like and efficient.
“Gladly,” he smirks with an elegant lift of a brow. “Usually I have to beg girls to let me disrobe.”
Flushing, she tilts her head, studies his face. “Let’s have it,” she snaps her fingers. “We’re losing daylight, here.”
Unselfconsciously, Logan whips off his tee, straightens his shoulders. Gasping at the large ruby blotch forming just below his ribs, Veronica covers it with her tiny hand. “Oh, God,” she whispers. “I’m so sorry.” Biting her lip, she struggles to control her emotions.
“Hey, hey,” he mutters, sliding off the ledge and pulling her into his arms. “I’m okay, really,” he soothes, drawing circles on her back.
“How could he do this to you?” she marvels. Leaning back, she traces the mottled outline with trembling fingers. “We should report him - oh my God, my dad. What time is it, Logan?”
“Seven ... seven-thirty,” he admits. “It’s Friday. You have to go home?”
“I - I don’t know, but I have to call and check in, let him know I’m okay.” Poker-faced, Logan nods, instinctively releasing her, dropping his arms to his sides. “What ... what should I tell him?”
He shrugs listlessly. “I can take you home, or wherever. Whenever you’re ready,” he says gruffly, trying to hide his disappointment. At that moment, his phone rings. Veronica shoots him an inquisitive look. ‘My dad’ he mouths. She makes a face, frowns, quickly shakes her head.
“Maybe you should answer it, though,” she comments slowly as his phone clacks shut. “It might ... be important, or it could be ... your mom, couldn’t it?”
“I doubt it. She usually uses her own cell. Besides, she’s supposed to be in LA.”
His phone shrills again. Veronica flinches. “Talk to him, Logan,” she coaxes. “He might have calmed down, by now.”
Shrugging, Logan answers and hits the speaker, putting a finger to her lips. “Dad.”
As if he knows he’s on stage, Aaron begins in a carefully controlled tone. “Logan, m’boy. Where are you?”
“Out with a friend. Didja need something?”
“Listen, son. I’m ... I - we both lost our tempers. I don’t think I need to tell you, it shouldn’t have happened. I want - your mother and I want you to come home, now. Talk about everything.”
“Uh, I don’t think so, Dad. I’m kinda in the middle of something right now. Besides, mom’s not home yet, is she?”
“No, your mother’s not home, but she’s on the way, and she’s very concerned. Son, do I need to remind you? You’re driving without a license. I don’t want you to get in any trouble with the law, so you really need to come home, right now!” The last few words, spoken sharply, make it clear Aaron’s unhappy and losing patience.
“Don’t worry, Dad. I’m with a licensed driver,” he winks at Veronica, “and I’m pretty sure I’ll be okay. My ribs aren’t cracked or anything, so tell Mom not to worry.”
“You listen to me, young man,” he seethes, and Veronica can hear his barely-controlled rage. “I ... want you home. Right now, and I don’t want any more lip. And I don’t want you hanging around that interfering little tramp - ”
“Who are you talking about? Veronica? Sheriff Mars’ daughter?”
“You know damn well who I’m talking about - you’ve said too much to her already, you spoiled little prick. And, if I find out you’ve told her your usual pack of lies about being abused, so help me God, I’ll - you’ll - a whipping will be the least of your problems, do you understand?” he finishes in a voice so cold and deadly it makes Veronica shiver.
“Roger that,” Logan quips, slamming the phone shut and flinging it at the backseat. “I don’t think he’s cooled off yet,” he deadpans, but Veronica can see he’s shaken by the conversation.
“You can’t - you can’t go home tonight, Logan, and I - I don’t want to,” she hurriedly declares. “I want to stay with you, at least until - you could come home with me,” she offers. “I’ll tell my dad we have a school project, or something. I’m sure he’ll let you stay, and in the morning, we’ll figure something - ”
“It’s not your problem, Veronica,” he tells her, his voice carefully neutral. “And I don’t think the good Sheriff would be too happy about me camping out on the Mars’ family couch, either.”
After thinking for a moment, Veronica reluctantly agrees. “Maybe you’re right. So where are you going to go, then? ... Duncan’s?” she says unwillingly.
Raising his brow again, Logan shakes his head. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea, right now. Do you?”
Pursing her lips in a thin line, she scuffs her shoe in the sand. “No, I guess not. ... How would you explain....” Looking up into his stormy, confused eyes, she impulsively rises on tiptoe and gently kisses his cheek. “You shouldn’t be alone,” she murmurs, pressing her face to his.
He gathers her into his arms and lifts her onto the truck gate. “We could spend the night on the beach,” he throws out tentatively. His lips find hers, and he kisses her softly.
“I ... I guess I could say I was sleeping over at Lilly’s,” she muses, running her fingers through his errant hair. “I’ll call her and see what she’s up to.”
“Don’t tell her - ”
“ - Of course not,” she assures him. “It’s none of her business anyway.” He sighs, tucking his head beneath her chin and hugging her tightly.
“Logan?” she says, after a minute goes by.
“Yeah?”
“Do you - how much money do you have?” Blushing, she looks away.
Craning his neck, he blinks, studies her face. “Why? You mean, on me, right now?”
“Yeah. I was thinking....” she stammers, embarrassed. “We could ... go somewhere, just for tonight.”
“You mean, like a hotel?” He grins mischievously when her head bobs up and down. “Veronica Mars! I’m shocked and scandalized. You want to spend the night alone with me, in a hotel room? What will the neighbors think?”
Her face flames. “I ... I didn’t mean it - not like that. Nevermind, it’s a bad idea.”
“No, I think it’s a great idea,” he says slowly. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it.” He catches her chin in between his thumb and finger, turns her face to his. “Would you ... really do that, for me?” Nodding vigorously, she buries her face in his neck. “It’s okay, Veronica. I promise ... we wouldn’t, we don’t have to sleep together or anything, but it would be nice ... for you to be with me,” he reassures her, his long fingers floating over the back of her neck, down her spine, and up again. Shivering, she kisses the spot under his ear, squeezes him tightly.
“Call Lilly,” he prompts, kissing her jaw. “Set it up, then call your dad and make sure it’s alright.”
~~*~~*~~*~~
“You’re not eighteen,” she frets, staring at the blue and yellow neon ‘Holiday Inn Express’ sign as she unclips her seat belt.
“I have an ID that says I am, though,” he counters, pulling out his wallet and handing her a plastic rectangle.
She studies it with interest, hands it back. “Someone make that for you?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“I’ve seen the kits, online. How much did you pay for it?”
“Why? Think you can do a better job, Mars?” he taunts, curling his fingers over her outstretched wrist and pulling her to him. Off balance, with nowhere to put her hands, Veronica awkwardly collapses into his lap, hips resting on his thigh, her back against the steering wheel. Grinning, he bends down and wraps his deft fingers over the nape of her neck. Nipping at her pouty bottom lip, he waits ‘til she opens to protest before draping his lips over hers and swirling his tongue into her mouth.
Like he’s flipped a switch, instantly, she’s pressing her chest to his, puffing and cooing as she kisses back with abandon. Barely coming up for air, he delves into her soft mouth, running the back of his hand over her flushed cheek. Moaning, she huffs, “Mmm, Logan. Stop. We can’t ... stay out here all night. Go register, get a room. Please,” she pleads, her voice hushed and plaintive, eyes bright and lust-hazed.
“I’m fine right here, ‘Ronica.” He kisses her again, bolder, more assertive as he plunders her mouth.
“Please?” she whispers after another minute goes by.
Finally, he breaks their kiss with a loud smack, laughing and licking his lips. “Be back in a flash, Sugarlips,” he promises with a wink.
Five minutes later, two plastic keycards in hand, Logan slides behind the wheel and drives around the corner, looking for room 512. Once he parks, he hurries around to the passenger side and, wanting to behave like a gentleman, opens the door to help Veronica out. Putting a possessive arm around her shoulders, he leads her to the door, inserts the card, and swings it open with a flourish.
Walking inside, he realizes how the situation might look to her, and slipping his hand in hers, draws her over to the generic, industrial-floral sofa in the sitting room. Sitting half-sideways on the edge, she looks expectantly at him as he nervously settles on the coffee table.
“Listen, Veronica,” he begins, his voice low and rough with unspoken emotion. “Thank you for defending me. No one’s ever stood up to my father - not like that. You’re so special, and I love that you want to stay with me, but I don’t expect,” he clears his throat, “I mean, we don’t have to ... have sex or anything.”
Extending her hand, she stills Logan’s fingers as they beat erratically against his thigh. He traps her hand between his, staring at her clear, blue eyes as she bites her lip. “It’s okay, Logan. I know I’m not ... like the girls you’ve been with, but I’m not with Duncan, and I want to be - ”
Unable to sit, he hops off the table and hugs her. Kneeling beside her, he wraps her in a hug. “It’s okay. We’ll just ... cuddle,” he winks broadly, “hold each other and tell secrets.” Nodding, she smiles, but Logan notices, from her face and her tense body language, she isn’t relaxing.
“I’m not a little kid, not ... twelve anymore,” she objects, intently examining the upholstery pattern.
He cups her cheek, moves so he can see her face. Her eyes are wet and shining. Smoothing her hair back, he kisses her nose, tenderly seals his mouth over hers, licking her lips until she parts them with a sigh.
“I want ... to sleep with you,” she proclaims in her dainty, little girl voice.
“Are ... are you sure?” he asks, studying her face. “You don’t have to, you know.”
“Yes. I want you to be ... my first,” she confides, hiding her face in his broad shoulder.
Awed and touched by her announcement, Logan pulls her off the couch and onto his lap. Holding her in his arms, he touches his forehead to hers, trying to breathe deep and even despite the pounding in his chest and the throbbing between his legs.
Her first? She wants me to be her first? Damn - she’s so fucking hot. Fuck - she’s a virgin.
“Is ... is that okay?” she asks, her tone plaintive and unsure.
“Uh huh.” Rolling backward, Logan stretches out on the floor, maneuvering her on top. Threading his fingers in her gleaming hair, he brings her head to his, mashes his lips to hers. She responds eagerly, slipping her tongue into his mouth. He can feel her pert nipples pressing against his chest, her heart beating. Suddenly, he realizes he wants her more than he’s ever wanted a girl.
Bracing his arm against her spine, he twists, carefully laying her on the carpet, cradled beneath him. Setting a hip down beside hers, he covers her with his body, trailing kisses down her neck as he rubs circles over her breast. “I’m gonna make it so good for you, Veronica,” he promises, rolling her tight nipple between his thumb and finger.
Gasping, she arches against him. “Oh, God.”
“You feel so good, baby,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to her ear. “Shit!” he blurts abruptly.
Her eyes clack open, puzzled and worried. “What? What’s wrong?”
“I ... I don’t think I have any ... protection,” he confesses sheepishly. “I - we ... left so fast.”
“Oh.” She’s crestfallen, trying to be brave.
“There must be a drugstore around here somewhere,” he temporizes, sitting up and straining for the telephone directory. “I’ll go get something, okay?” Agreeing with alacrity, she watches with wide eyes as he flips pages. Finding the right one, he rips it out of the phone book, folds it and puts it in his back pocket. “Looks like there’s a mall a couple of miles from here. You want to come with, or stay here?” he asks, standing and offering his hand.
She struggles to her feet, yanking at her denim skirt and thin, striped tank top. “I’ve got my books and laptop, I’ll stay here and do some homework.”
“Homework, huh?” He bends, placing his lips on her throat. “You’re such a good girl, Veronica Mars,” he mocks, the rumble of his voice sending vibrations through her body.
“Lo-gan,” she sing-songs, slapping at his arm as her lashes flutter.
“Don’t worry,” he mumbles into her skin. “You’re going to learn a lot before the night is over.”
Pulling his face up, she rains kisses on his cheeks, chin, and mouth, before pushing him away with a sigh. “Go. Now,” she commands. “Hurry back, okay?”
“You want - need - anything?”
“Umm, maybe some S’kist, and something to eat?” Dutifully, he starts a list on the cheap pad of hotel stationary. “Logan?”
“Yeah, babe?”
“I ... don’t have anything ... to wear, to bed, I mean,” she says over her shoulder, hovering at the threshold of the somewhat Spartan bedroom with its garish, paisley bed cover and Ikea-like night stands.
“Do you really ... need anything?” he asks, feeling stupid as he comes up behind her.
“I guess not,” she concedes, uneasy.
He rubs her back. “It’s okay. I’ll see if I can find something.”
Part 2 - you know what's going to happen, right?