The End of Innocence, part 2 - L/V - NC-17 - rindee

[rindee]

Title:  The End of Innocence, part 2
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.



As soon as he’s gone, Veronica powers up her laptop.  After spending ten minutes attempting to study, she gives up and begins idly surfing the web.  Five minutes later, she gets up to inspect the bathroom.  Returning to the plywood desk, she checks her email.  Too jittery to sit still, she goes into the bedroom and pulls off the bedspread, folding it precisely and depositing it in the empty closet.  She paces for a few seconds before deciding to fold down the blanket and plump the pillows.

Back in the sitting room, she tries to read, but is unable to concentrate.  Kicking off her flip-flops, she carefully arranges them on the floor of the closet, goes to the vanity sink and scrubs her face until it’s pink and shiny.  What am I doing?  We’ve only been broken up for a few hours, and he’s Duncan’s best friend....  Sighing heavily, she perches on the edge of the bed, thumbing the complimentary copy of What to do in San Diego, nervously awaiting Logan’s return.

Around the corner, Logan breathes in the cool night air, unlocks the truck, gets in, starts the motor.  Cranking Lenny Kravitz, he cruises out of the parking lot, stops at the red light.  In the loop running in his head, he pictures Veronica, naked, beneath him, her skin flushed with a rosy-gold glow.  Just thinking about her makes his cock hard.  He bangs his hand on the steering wheel, enjoying the warm tightening in his groin.

Screeching to a halt, he’s out of the truck before it stops rocking.  As the door whooshes open, he blinks and steps into the bright light of Walgreen’s.  Spying a tee shirt display just inside, he randomly fumbles through the stacks, haphazardly tipping ‘em over and shoving ‘em aside until he finds a pale pink one at the bottom of the pile - size doesn’t matter, does it?  She’s just going to sleep in it.  Basket - I need a basket.

Dumping the tee into a green, plastic handbasket, he slips the handles over his arm like a purse, and hurries down the aisle to the back corner, where the sex stuff is shelved.  He skims the condom displays, unsure because - it’s Veronica.  Finally, impatient, he simply grabs one of each:  lubed, flavored, latex, rainbow colored, pouch at tip, polyurethane - in case she’s allergic to latex - and textured.  Two boxes of those.  Staring at the package in his hand, he suddenly spaces, lost in a private reverie.

Relax.  You’ve done this before.  You’ve made girls come lots of time - you’ve even made Veronica come a couple of times.  Cake.  It’s gonna be cake, right?  Just get on with it - you know she’s waiting, she may even be playing in the bathtub to, ahem, you know, get ready ... for you.

Shaking off his lascivious inner voice, and muttering to himself, Logan scrutinizes the ‘massage oils and personal lubricants’ section, clearly mystified.  Warming?  Tingling?  Massage and lubrication?  Oil?  Silicone?  Water-based?   WTF?

She’s a virgin, the 'other' voice in his head reminds him.  You have to be gentle, romantic, and understanding.  She’s barely even touched your cock, much less had it thrust inside her.  She’s gonna be so scared.  A long, slow massage might loosen her up a bit, make it easier for both of you.

Screw that - a good stiff drink will loosen her up more, the ‘fallen’ angel in him offers.  Maybe you should hit the liquor department on your way out?  I know I would - something strong, a good, Irish whiskey, maybe, always warms me right up.  If you get her drunk, she’ll be much more pliant and you can just pop her cherry, the angel in his head says, snapping her fingers.

Mentally, he pictures his two ‘angels.’  The brunette with the fluffy white wings, and a golden, glowing halo, is wearing a demure, lavender chemise held up by lacy, delicate straps, her soft curls swirling past her shoulders, a mere hint of cleavage showing where the silk covers her ample breasts.  The blonde, on the other hand, has a throbbing red halo - he thinks it’s a halo, though it’s worn and tattered.  She wears spiky, high-heeled, black leather boots, with matching, tight boy-shorts and laced-up cami, her hair teased and sprayed to a high-lacquer sheen.  A stiff, red leather whip is curled in her hand, and her boobs threaten to spill out of her bodice.

You have to make it as comfortable as possible for her, and pleasurable too.  Don’t be fooled by her composed demeanor - underneath, she will be terrified.  You must be tender, the kind, gentle soul I know you can be, the raven-haired beauty implores him.

She wants you - she told you so.  She’s picked you to be her ‘first,’ so you need to rock her world, show her a good time, lovah.  Break her in ‘right,’ the other one insists, pumping her leather-sheathed hips like a stripper.

Growling to himself, he snaps to, focusing on the shelf in front of him.  Exasperated, he sweeps a bottle of each kind of lube off the shelf and marches to the food aisle.  He deposits a two-liter of S’kist, another of Coke, chips, pretzels, peanuts, and Twizzlers into the pile.  At the front, he looks around, relieved to find no other customers in line.  Lining up his items on the counter, he glances up at the cashier, and is horrified to see a two-toned-gray-haired old biddy working the register.

Squinting at him from behind black, cat’s eye glasses decorated with rhinestones, her eyes looking as large as quarters, she deliberately examines the first box of condoms - the flavored ones - hmpf’ing exaggeratedly as she slowly scans it three times before she finds the bar code and it rings up.  He thinks he’s being tortured as she laboriously performs the same maneuver on each pack of condoms, each bottle of lube.  Each time she glares at him, he feels like a terrorist, or a criminal, or a creep, at the very least.

Finally, granny rings up the toothbrushes and Crest.  The total is $131.47.  He hands her his AmEx, waits while she inspects it, back and front, before zipping it through.  Scrawling his name with an illegible flourish, he nearly rips the bags from her hand, jogging out to the Xterra.

Meanwhile, back at the hotel, Veronica fidgets.  He’s been gone for twenty-five minutes - what could be taking so long?  Closing and securing the heavy, vinyl curtains, she decides to take a shower, despite having nothing to change into.  Running the water, she goes to the door and slides the deadbolt.  Pulling up her long, heavy hair with a rubber-band, she strips and gets in the fiercely hot water. Scouring every inch of exposed skin - and some parts that aren’t - she’s about to shut off the water when she hears a thud, and his annoyed voice.

“Veronica!  Are you okay?”

Winding a towel around her body, she scurries into the other room.  Using the door as a shield, she peeks out.  “Logan?  Is that you?”

“Who were you expecting?  ‘Course it’s me,” he says curtly, waggling the door back and forth on the end of the chain.  “Can I come in?” he inquires, his tone gentler than it had been a moment earlier.

“I ... I just got out of the shower.  I only have a towel on.”

“Oh, and I bet you look cute,” he says, his voice brimming with mischief.  “Please open the door,” he begs.

Pushing the door shut, she snaps the chain off and opens it part-way, still hiding behind.  Slamming it with his ass, Logan lets the packages slip to the floor and gathers her into his arms for a long, intense ‘hello’ kiss.

“Miss me?” he murmurs, stroking her damp skin.

“Mmmhmm,” she breathes, catching his face in her slender hands.  Staring into his eyes, she rises on her toes, closes her eyes, and kisses him again.  “What took you so long?”

Glancing at the bags scattered at his feet, he chuckles.  “It’s a surprise.  Surprises, I should say.”  Releasing her, he leans down, paws through the plastic until he finds her pink shirt.  “I brought you something.”  He hands her the tee.  “Put it on, for me?”  When she holds it out, realizing what it is, she smiles shyly, her cheeks turning a faint pink to match the fabric.

“What else did you get?” she asks, eager to see what’s in the bags.

He spins her around, nudges her in the direction of the bathroom.  “Go,” he instructs, patting her behind.  “Get dressed,” he adds, lips against her ear, “so I can take it off.”

Over her shoulder, she shoots him a look that’s both pure and lust-filled, and scoots away before he can react.  The noise of rustling plastic fills the air as Logan removes each box and bottle, lining them up on the night stand.  He places the toothbrushes and toothpaste by the sink.  Arranging the covers at the foot of the bed, he grabs a towel from the rack and spreads it in the middle of the bed.

Humming to herself, Veronica languidly dries off, slips into the ‘nightshirt,’ and steps into her pink bikini panties.  Examining the complimentary toiletries, she debates putting on some lotion, but decides against it.  Bending over, she tosses her mane forward, shaking it out and brushing it thoroughly.

In the other room, Logan kicks out of his shoes, not bothering to untie them in his haste to disrobe.  He tugs his shirt off, crumples it into a ball and whips it at the chair.  Hand on his fly, he thinks better of removing his jeans; it might be too soon.  Peeling off his socks, he tucks them into his Cons.

“‘Ronica?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m gonna go get some ice.  I’ll be right back - don’t lock me out, okay?”

“Okay.  Can I come out now?”

“No, just stay there ‘til I get back.”  Padding down the walkway barefooted, he scoops ice into the cheesy plastic bucket and hurries back, fingers tapping on the container.  “I’m baaack,” he sing-songs, flipping the keycard onto the coffee table.

“I’m still in here,” she sing-songs back, her tone light and flippant.

“Just another minute, honey,” he calls out, depositing the ice and pouring two glasses of soda.  Retrieving his flask from his back pocket, he sets it next to the drinks and returns to the Walgreen’s bags.  He heaps the snacks next to the vodka, and pulls out the last item, six red roses, encased in crinkly plastic.

Taking his wallet, keys, and pocket knife from his pants, he puts the billfold and keys on top of the television.  Opening the knife, he snips the rose stems and puts three in a glass.  He steps into the bedroom and puts a single rose on the pile of snowy white pillows, and, tearing the petals from the last two, scatters them over the sheets.

Satisfied, finally, he moves to the closed bathroom door and lounges against it.  “Veronica,” he says, his voice hushed and a bit reverent.

“Yeah?”

“Are you ready?”

“I think so.  Are you?”

“I was born ready,” he drawls.

The door clicks; Veronica peeks out.  He motions her into the dressing area, covering her eyes with his hands.  Pelvis bumping her ass, he steers her into the other room, depositing her on the couch so she can’t see the bed.  A single lamp is burning, the room is dim, murky.  Adjusting to the shadows, she blinks, noticing the roses and the half-filled cups.

“I forgot candles,” he confesses sheepishly.  She shrugs and smiles, tentative and anxious.

“They’re beautiful,” she murmurs, gesturing to the scarlet flowers.

“Drink?” he inquires, nodding at the flask.

“Yes, please.”  He pours a dollop of Absolute into her S’kist, and a larger portion into his glass, gathers both in his hand.  Making his way to her side, he sits comfortably.  They touch rims, drink.  Because Logan is watching her like a hawk, she swigs half in one gulp, wincing at the burn.  He chugs his in two heavy swallows.

Taking her glass, he sets it down, draws her near, one arm circling her shoulders.  “C’mere,” he invites, casual and reassuring.  Sighing, she relaxes into him.  “We don’t have to do this,” he reminds, lips caressing her ear.  Lacing her fingers into his free hand, she squeezes.

“But, I want to, Logan.  I do.”  Rubbing her cheek against his bare chest, she giggles, licks his nipple.  “I want to be with you.  Now.  Here.  Tonight.”

Shuddering at her unexpected, bold touch, he blows softly in her ear.  “I want you, too,” he whispers.  “You have no idea how much.”

One finger sketches a line up his thigh.  “I think maybe I do,” she announces as her finger comes to rest on the bulge just below his belly.  She can feel him getting hard.  He stirs restlessly; she turns, raises her face to his.

Inclining to meet her, he brushes a feathery kiss on her brow, places another on each eyelid before tracing her nose and lips.  She climbs gracefully into his lap, knees on either side of his hips, hands balancing on his shoulders.  Bringing his hands up underneath the oversized shirt, he loosely grips her waist, steadying her.

Eyes sparkling, she teeters, leans in, presses her lips to his.  He sweeps his tongue into her mouth, deepening the kiss.  She shudders as he gently strokes her sides, hitching back and forth over him, the friction making both crazy.  Bracing her with an arm to the small of her back, he scrapes his fingertips lightly down her spine.

With a hushed “Ooo” she writhes, arches, driving her peaked nipples into the flat of his chest.  The air fills with the sound of her broken panting as he tips her head back, his lips trailing a path over her jaw, her neck, the dimple of her clavicle.  “Oh, God,” she whispers.

“Mmmm,” he murmurs, laying her over his knees and pulling down the neck of her top to suck at her pale flesh.  “Ready to have some fun?” he asks, lips flickering against her, a wicked, dangerous glint in his smudgy eyes.

Curling her hands around his biceps, she levers her body up, flinging her arms around his neck and nuzzling his ear.  “I’m ready if you are,” she teases, nipping at him.

“You minx,” he chuckles.  “Are you sure?”  He cranes back to look at her.  She nods.

Easing out from underneath, he sways to his feet, heaves her up.  From behind, he drapes his head over her shoulder, biting and sucking as he massages her breasts.  Quivering, she feels his cock against her backside, his teeth, tongue, and fingers working her until her knees are weak and ready to buckle.  Dizzy and completely aroused, she gropes, grabs for his thighs, fingers clenching the rough denim.

Reaching down, he slips a finger in her drink cup, dunks it in the alcohol, and slips it between her swollen lips.  Catching his finger, she sucks hard, circling and pressing his digit with her tongue.  Groaning, he sinks his teeth in her neck, laps at her.  “Okay, it’s time,” he says huskily, hands stilling.

Nodding, she turns to him.  Her face is flushed and glowing, her expression calm, serious.  Hands on her shoulders, he walks her backward into the darkened bedroom.  She turns, gasping a quick breath, taking in the velvety petals strewn across the prepared bed, the supplies carefully arranged at the bedside.

“What ... what’s all that for?”

“I thought we could give each other a massage,” he replies, his voice deliberately soothing and neutral.  She gives him a dubious, sideways glance.  “To loosen up.  I’ll go first,” he ad-libs.  She nods, reaches up to caress his arm.  Walking to the night stand, he peruses the oils, selects one.  “Heat and tingle,” he grins.

She quirks her head.  “You don’t have flavored ones?”

“Cinnamon okay?”  He puts the bottle down, picks up another and hands it to her.

She grins coquettishly, motions to the bed.  “Lay down.”

He kneels on the edge, grabs the snap of his fly.  “On or off?”

“Off, I think.”  She pretends to study his body, not wanting him to know how fast her heart’s beating, how wet she already is.

Standing, he unzips, shucks the jeans.  At the sight of his tented, black silk boxers, she swoons inside, willing herself not to be embarrassed or look away.  She wants to scream when he subconsciously cups his dick through the fabric.

“Should you ... take those off, too?” she wonders uncomfortably, fixedly staring at the white sheets.  “The oil might ... stain?”

He smiles cheekily.  “Good idea,” he agrees.  She averts her eyes as he slips them down his legs, doesn’t look up again until she hears the bed creak.

“Ready?” she croaks, her throat raw and hoarse.

“Mmmhmm,” he sighs, head down, arms stretched out above his head.  From the end of the bed, she crawls up his bare legs, hovering over his ass while she drips slippery stuff up and down his back.  A shiver twitches through his body, she can feel his heated skin beneath her naked thighs.  Settling just above the cleft of his butt, she gradually lowers herself until her full weight rests on him.

Leaning down, she spreads the lube with strong, supple fingers.  When her shirt catches under her legs, making it difficult for her to reach all the way up to his shoulders, she impatiently tugs it off, drops it over the side.  Wearing nothing but her panties, she bends over him, pressing against his bare back as she digs into his shoulders.

“Does it feel good?” she asks, kissing him lightly.

He groans.  “God, Veronica.  You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

“I’m trying to get you to relax,” she chides, nipping at the nape of his neck.

“Get me some vodka, then,” he jokes.

“I can do that,” she says, eagerly sliding off his back.  She manages to get one foot on the floor before he rolls over, clamps onto her wrist.

“Hey, hey.”  Forgetting he’s naked, and hard as cut glass, he sits up, pulling her onto his lap.  “Relax.  I don’t need anything else to make me feel good, babe.”  Sucking in her breath, she looks down at his dick, squirms and, biting her lip, glides her fingers over the glistening tip. Jerking at her gentle touch, it’s his turn to blush, and he does, flopping backward, taking her with him.  “God, Veronica, you make me feel so good,” he confides, wrapping his arms around her.

Hungrily, he takes her mouth, slipping his knee between her legs to keep her on top of him.  She can feel his dick throbbing against her abdomen, but her attention’s occupied with the sensuous play of his tongue on hers, the sizzle of his finger tips against her sensitive nipples.  It’s a dizzying byplay, making her forget she intends to lose her virginity.  Tonight, probably in a few minutes.

Sucking on his tongue, she undulates against him, loving the feel of his slick skin, the hard planes of his abs, the pressure of his thumb on her back, the incredible, pulsing warmth spreading throughout her body.  Twisting, he settles her onto one hip, dips to take a nipple into his mouth.  Head tossed back, she throws a leg over his thigh, rocking and rubbing against him, huffing and moaning.  Tremors shake her body each time she brushes against him.  “Oh God, Logan,” she whimpers, fingers tightening in his hair.

“Oh, fuck, Veronica,” he grunts, humping against her, his dick nestled between them.  Suddenly, with a strangled cry, he pumps his cock against her belly and comes.  “Shit!” he mutters, embarrassed.  “Fuck!  I’m sorry, babe.”

Unsure of the proper response, Veronica continues to rock on his thigh, her face contorted with desire.  “Kiss me?” she begs, trapping his face between her palms.  Logan works his tongue in her mouth, stroking against hers, swallowing her tiny gasps and moans.

“Don’t worry,” he whispers, “I’ll be ready in a minute or two.”  He plants kisses over her jaw and nibbles at the pale, smooth skin of her throat, licking and sucking.  Back bowed, she arches, grinds against him; at once, she can feel his dick stiffen.  His mouth travels down, capturing a nipple between his teeth, he swipes it with his tongue; the tingling radiates throughout her body, making her hiss and thrust frantically against him.

With a loud, satisfying ‘pop,’ he releases her breast, glances inquisitively at her flushed face.  “I know, babe,” he murmurs, voice cracking.  “You’re almost there.”  Licking up her breastbone, he kisses her deeply, his tongue plunging into her mouth as his fingers stroke between her legs, fondling her tiny, swollen nub.

Crying out, she bucks into his hand.  Nudging her onto her back, he covers her body with his, dragging his fingers through her creamy folds, holding her close as she humps his hand, thrashing and groaning.  Once, twice, she jerks hard against him, biting his neck as she comes.  Surprised at herself, her eyes flutter open.  Chest heaving, she stares into his smoky eyes, hoping he can read the unspoken question in hers.

He cups her head, tucks into his shoulder.  “‘S okay, baby.  We’re just getting started.”  Tenderly laying her back on the bed, he wipes his fingers on the towel, reaches back for a condom.  Holding the small, foil packet, he kneels above her.  Curious, she grabs for it.  With a grin, he moves it out of her reach.

“Want to do the honors?” he asks, becoming serious, his eyes drilling into hers.

Gulping apprehensively, she nods vigorously, fingers straining for the package.  “Yes, please.”  Sitting up, she holds out her hand.

Ripping it open with his teeth, he hands it to her, watches with amusement as she fumbles it into her hand, picks it up with a thumb and forefinger, turning it round and round as she tries to discern how it should be applied.

“Here, let me start it for you.”  Blowing into the tip, he fits it over the head of his cock, places his hand over hers and shows her how to roll it down the shaft.  Both their hands are trembling by the time they finish.

“Wow.  Good thing they didn’t test us on that in health class, because I definitely would have failed,” she comments with a self-deprecating half-smile.

“Uh huh,” he grunts, fisting down his length to make sure it’s smooth and tight.

“Can I?” she gestures, reaching for his dick.

“Sure,” he agrees, quickly adding, “but you don’t have to if you don’t want you, Veronica.”

Moving with alacrity, she’s on her knees, facing him, her small hand resting on his....  “I do want to....”  Recalling her last ‘lesson’ on the subject, she circles her fingers around the tip and begins to caress up and down.  Quickly, she realizes her hand doesn’t slide easily over the latex.  Looking around, she spots the bottle of lube, and bends over to get it.

“Veronica,” he says, wrapping his warm, strong hand around her neck and drawing her up to his chest.

“Uh huh?”

“We ... we’re not going to need ... any extra lubrication,” he stammers, his dark eyes glowing, his face flushed in embarrassment.

“Wha - oh.”  Blushing self-consciously, she averts her eyes.

“I think,” he whispers, “you’re wet enough.”  Crushing her body to his with an intense kiss, his hand trails down her neck, glides over the jut of her shoulder blade, and skims the curve of her ass before slipping between her legs.  With a smooth, deliberate motion, he strokes his fingers from the puckered indent of her ass to her wet and throbbing clit.

“Oh, oh, God,” she pants, writhing as he repeats the stroke in the opposite direction.

“Baby,” he murmurs, “you’re plenty lubed.”

“Logan!” she mutters, playfully biting at his bottom lip.  “You’re sick.”

“Only for you, ‘Ronica,” he teases, bringing his fingers up to his mouth and sucking on them.

“Ew!”

“What?  No, you taste good, baby.”

As if to prove his point, he seals his lips over hers, plunges his tongue into her mouth.  At the same time, he parts and fondles her, fingers gliding over her creamy flesh as he rubs rough circles over her slick clit.  Moaning, she sucks on his tongue, tasting herself as she shudders.  Gently laying her on the bed, he continues to kiss her as he settles between her hips, hand working her clit and toying with the outer lips of her pussy.

“Do you feel good, Veronica?” he asks, eyes glinting in the dimness.

“Ye - yes,” she hisses, hips jerking as he strokes a finger into her.  “Mmm, Logan,” she mumbles, surging against his hand.

“Spread your legs, baby,” he instructs her, hips wiggling between her thighs.  Obediently, she splays her legs out beneath him.  “No, like this.”  Hand in the crook of her knee, he bends her leg until her knee is level with her hip, her heel practically to her derriere.  Momentarily surprised, her eyes flutter open.  “Are you okay?”

Biting her lip, she nods.  From the look on his face, she can tell he’s still concerned.  “I’m good, Logan, really,” she assures him, pulling him down and rocking against his hand.  “Please don’t ... stop,” she gulps, squeezing his neck.  Levering most of his weight on one hip and one elbow, he adds a second finger and thrusts in and out repeatedly, watching carefully as her eyes flutter and her mouth forms a graceful ‘O.’

Finally, as she flails and stutters, he rolls onto his knees and fists his cock, fitting it to her luscious opening.  When she feels him nudge against her, she struggles to open her eyes, staring intently into his as he begins to penetrate her.  Startled by his girth, she flinches, moans, eyes closing involuntarily.  He stops, starts to say something, but before he can utter a word, she lurches upward, groaning and twitching as she tries to take him in.

“Please,” she whimpers, fingers clamping on his wrist and arm.

“God, you’re so fucking tight,” he marvels as, unable to stop, he pushes deeper.

Despite her fear, and the uncomfortable sensation of muscles stretching, she’s so hot, and he feels so good she heedlessly pumps her hips, rocking up as he drives further in.  “Ah, ah, please,” she pleads, her voice breathless and harsh.

“Relax, baby,” he urges, pulling out, breathing heavily.  Nails digging into his arm, she pants, her body pulsing, urging him on.  Stretching atop her, he tucks his head against her neck, kissing and nipping her skin as he thrusts in harder.

“Oh, God,” she grits, sucking in sharply, her body suddenly still.  “Shit.” Tears brim in her eyes.

Instantly, Logan recognizes her discomfort.  “Oh, baby.  Are you okay?”

Nodding gamely, she swipes her face against his shoulder.  “Please, Logan.  Don’t, don’t  stop....  I’ll be okay,” she whispers.  When he doesn’t move, she winds her arms around his neck and covers her lips with his.

Kissing her tenderly, he reluctantly rolls his hips up, pushing in slowly.  Gasping, she rubs and bucks against him, trying to create the friction she knows he needs.  Licking her way down his jaw, she nips his throat and sucks at him, stirring to his desperate groan, loving the idea of leaving her ‘mark’ on him.

Chanting her name, he thrusts in and out and, even though it’s uncomfortable and not wonderful for her, she’s gratified, even thrilled by his passionate rapture.  When he comes with a shuddering heave, she presses her body to him, her slender arms clenching across his back, her face buried in his neck.

Almost immediately, he starts to roll off, but she hooks her leg around his.  “Not yet,” she murmurs, enjoying the feeling of fullness, the joinder of their bodies, and the beating of his heart over hers.

“You’re fuckin’ amazing,” he whispers, brushing his rough hands through her silky tresses, planting shy kisses on her temple, ear, and arm.  “Did I hurt you?” he frets, gazing into her serene cerulean eyes.

“I ... I’m good,” she blushes.  “It hurt a little, but only for a minute.  Was it - was I ... are you okay?”

He kisses her forehead again.  “Veronica,” he breathes.  “You make me feel so great, but babe?  I’m afraid I’m gonna have to - ”

“I know,” she sighs, her voice soft and plaintive.  Unexpectedly, when he eases out, she winces, feels empty, as though she’s lost something.  Before he can move away, she grabs and hugs him tightly, sighing.

“Shhh, it’s okay.”  He nuzzles his cheek in her hair, holding her like fragile Dresden china.  “I’m right here, ‘Ronica,” he promises, rocking her gently.  Pressing her face into his chest, she nestles there, cheek to skin.

Drawing her head back, she announces, “I’m okay,” and dashes away her tears.  “I think I want to take a shower.”  Moving stiffly, she finds the edge of the bed and drags herself to her feet, wobbling to the bathroom.

While she’s gone, Logan jumps up and strips away the stained bath towel.  Brushing the rose petals into a pile, he dumps them into an empty glass and puts them in the sitting room.  He returns, several unopened bags of snacks in arm.  He cleans up at the sink and slips into his boxers.  Finding her pretty tee shirt on the floor, he snaps it in the air.

Tapping lightly on the bathroom door, he sticks his head in.  “Veronica?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m leaving your shirt on the door knob, okay?”

“Thank you,” she says gratefully, peeking out from the shower curtain.  “I’ll be out in a minute.”

Going back to the sitting room, he pours and gulps a few ounces of vodka, neat.  Dumping Veronica’s forgotten cocktail, he fills the glass with ice and S’kist, makes a vodka and coke, and brings both into the bedroom.  Shoving all the prophylactics and oil into the night stand drawer, he meticulously arranges the sheets and blanket before sliding comfortably beneath them.

She finds him lounging, hands behind his head, eyes drooping, fighting off sleep.  She stands, simply watching him, until he cocks an eyebrow.  “Coming?”

“I - I’m hungry,” she confesses, abashed, teeth gnawing at her bottom lip.

“Of course you are,” he chuckles, patting the bed by his hip.  “Hop in, I have refreshments.”

Her eyes light up.  “I didn’t know you were a boy scout!”

“I come prepared,” he swears, raising three fingers of his right hand, inclining his head to the spot beside him and reaching for a bag of pretzels.  “Get in and I’ll feed you,” he winks.

Clambering over him, she settles into his side.  He hands her the glass of S’kist.  While she gulps it down, he tears open the pretzels and Twizzlers.

~~*~~*~~*~~

She wakes with a start at 4:13 a.m.  The unfamiliar weight of Logan’s arm over her shoulders confuses her at first, but comforted by his deep, sonorous breathing, she snuggles closer and drifts off.  At 5:47 a.m., she wakes again, to the warm heat of his lips nibbling on her ear, his engorged cock against her leg.

“Are you awake yet?” he mumbles, tongue tickling her lobe.

“Mmmhmm,” she murmurs, twitching her fingers across his chest.  Raising her head sleepily, she sinks her teeth into the juncture of his shoulder and languidly licks the mark.

“You are awake,” he crows, tipping her head up and kissing her plump lips.

“Lemme brush my teeth, first,” she implores, wiggling out from under his grasp.

“Hurry,” he begs, his voice rough with desire.  “Wait, I’ll come with you.”

Boldly, unselfconscious, he whips the sheets off, his stiff prick bobbing as he crawls to her side and hops up.  Strolling up behind her at the sink, he rubs his dick on her ass, reaching over her shoulder for his toothbrush.  Watching him in the mirror, she sags back against him, wiggles her ass against his length, giggling at his shocked expression.

“Veronica Mars!” he smirks, wide-eyed, gnawing on the bristly brush.  She grins at the glass image of him, spits, rinses, whirls around and wipes her face on his smooth chest.  Gagging, he nearly swallows the whole toothbrush as she throws her arms around him and shimmies against his tumescent cock.

“Hurry up,” she parrots slyly, not moving.

Leaning over her, he finishes, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.  Giving her a loopy grin, he sweeps her up in his arms.  Pretending to stagger under her weight, he stumbles back to the bed and bounces her onto the mattress.  Diving in next to her, he drags her to him, cradling her face in his palms.

Bending, he nips at her well-kissed lips, pulling back each time she opens to him.  Quickly fed-up with the tease, she crooks her arm over his neck and pulls him in for an enthusiastic, open-mouth kiss.  Rolling, he brings her on top of him, his dick pressing into her belly as they explore each other’s mouths.  Stroking her back, from the elegant nape of her neck to the sweet cleft of her ass, he groans.  Plucking at the hem of her shirt, she tugs it up and over her head, baring her chest to his ardent gaze.

“God, Veronica, I can’t fuckin’ believe you.”

“What?” she asks, arching and freezing momentarily, until the mesmeric pressure of his fingers makes her shiver.

“Un-fuckin’-believable,” he murmurs, swiping his tongue up from the indent of her collarbone to the bottom of her chin.  “So fucking beautiful.”

Hissing in pleasure, her head tumbles backward, gasping as his tongue and lips graze over her skin, moving inexorably down her chest to capture a nipple between his teeth and tongue.  With his fingers glued to one hip, he brings his hand up to cover the other breast, fingertips running over her tight nipple.  Writhing above him, she can feel her clit throb and dampen as she rubs against his hard-on.

“Lo-Lo-Logan,” she stutters, eyes fluttering.

Catching her shoulder, he twists, bringing her beneath him.  Wide-eyed and aroused, she looks up to see him observing her, unspoken emotion written on his face.  His glittering, obsidian eyes, no longer cold with rage, are tender and caring, his lips warm and inviting.  He brushes the back of his hand over her cheek, smooths his fingertip over her lips before bending to kiss the corner of her mouth.  Licking her lips, his tongue steals inside, rough velvet.

Curling his hand under her hip, he slowly spreads her thighs, nestling his cock in her tawny thatch.  She moans, huffing into his mouth, clawing at his neck as his fingers dip and glide over her slick, heated flesh.

“Condom?” she gasps when he fondles her clit, pitching and rubbing on his hand.

“In a minute,” he assures, inserting his middle finger in her pussy and curving it to stroke deeply.

Back bowed, she jerks against him.  “Please, Logan,” she croaks, “I ... I need to feel you ... inside me.”

Groaning, he flattens atop her, burying his face in her neck as he fumbles blindly in the drawer.  Randomly grabbing a box, he brings it to his mouth and rips it open, spilling the foil packets on the bed.  Flailing, she grabs one before he can, barely waiting for him to roll onto his side before hastily tearing the package and extracting the little latex circle.

“My - my turn,” she reminds him, fingers closing over his cock.  Shouldering him onto his back, she kneels at his hip, carefully sheathing his rigid length with both trembling hands.  Bending forward, her long golden locks cascade over his belly.  She licks and kisses his stomach before stretching out next to him, pulling him down over her.

“Frisky this morning, aren’t we?” he chortles, winding his fingers in her hair.  “You’re not sore or anything?” he questions, serious for a moment.

Squirming under his scrutiny, she admits, “A little, but I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

She sighs dramatically, giggles at his worried face.  “If you don’t want to....” she taunts, her voice hushed and dusky.  Running her fingers over his muscled abs, she tickles his ribs.  “Please,” she breathes, pressing against him.

Rising off the mattress, he puts a hand under each knee, lifting them up and out.  Snugging his cock up to her wet pussy, he tucks his elbows against her sides, holds her head between his palms.  Spreading his fingers, he lightly rubs them through the glossy sheen.  Excited by the feel of his hot, solid body on hers, she strains against him, her luminous eyes wide and rapt.

“I love it to hear a woman beg for it,” he teases, low and throaty, lips against her temple.  Licking at her ear, he bumps against her clit, enjoying her low moan.  His lips trail down her slender throat, sucking at the throb of her pulse as his fingers strum against her tight, rosy nipple.

“Hey!” she protests, pinching his forearm skin.  “I am not begging, Echolls.”

“But you will be,” he promises suavely, taking her other breast in his mouth, tongue swiping fast across her sensitive bud.

“Ohgod,” she keens, arching closer, hips riding up, pressing against him.  “Mmmsogood.”

“Baby,” he murmurs, fingers slipping between them to nuzzle her clit, softly at first, then rougher and faster as she gasps and grinds on him.  “You’re so fucking hot.”

Fisting his dick, he positions it against her opening, massaging her clit as she writhes and pants.  “Ready, baby?”

“Yes,” she answers in a gravel-strewn voice.  With a single, sure stroke, he penetrates her, watching intently for any sign of discomfort.  Lips open, head thrown back, she huffs a mindless stream of “Ooos and ahhs,” as she lunges to meet his thrust.

Although the sensation of fullness is still strange and a bit awkward, the friction of his cock sliding in and out is delicious, and she deliberately rocks her hips up, trying to match his rhythm.  She can feel his voracious mouth, licking and sucking at her neck as he buries his face there, trying to maintain a semblance of control.

Shuddering, she feels like her entire world has been reduced to the tingling, electric pulse of his cock inside her, and the clenching slip-slide of her muscles around him.  Bucking against him as her body quivers and surges, Veronica cries out.  Realizing she’s already on the verge, Logan hunches over her, hips stuttering as he drives faster and deeper with each thrust.

As she rubs and rocks against him, she feels like he’s everywhere, teeth and tongue pressed to her shoulder, hips hammering against her pubis, one hand wrapped around her neck, the other vise-gripped on her hip, cock buried deep inside her.

“Fuck,” he grunts.  She doesn’t reply in words, but her body’s tremors, and the claw of her nails on his arm and shoulder tell him everything.  She stiffens, hips pistoning up as he pumps. Shuddering uncontrollably, she comes in his arms, surprise and shock registering in her sapphire eyes.  Curling over her, he comes moments later, and falls to her side with a gasp.  “Veronica.”

~~*~~*~~*~~

“Coffee.  I need caffeine, please,” she commands drowsily.

“It’s not even eight o’clock, yet,” he mumbles to her shoulder.

“I know but - ”  Her cell shrills - the special ring that’s only Lilly.  “Oh, God.”

“Lilly, right?”

“Uh huh.”

“Better get it.  She’ll just keep calling.”

Rolling over, he straggles out of bed, padding to the vanity where there’s a tiny, two-cup coffee maker, and just enough supplies to make two pots.  Shaking the grounds into the filter, he pours the water in and starts the thing.

“Hey, Lil.”

“Veronica!  How are you?” Lilly gushes, her voice artificially, sarcastically cheerful.

“I - I’m fine.  What’re you doing up so early?”

“I haven’t been to bed, yet, girlfriend.  How ‘bout you?  Why’re you such an early bird?  Catch any worms this morning?”  Enjoying her own joke, Lilly giggles mischievously.  When Veronica doesn’t answer, Lilly continues, “So, spill, Veronica.  Who is he?”

“Who?”

“The boy you’re with.  I know it’s not my stupid brother, because Donut looked like someone died last night, and he’s sleeping like a good boy this morning.  I covered for you, now spill!  Who ... is he?  I’m dying to know.”

“What do you mean, you haven’t been to bed yet?” Veronica queries in a desperate attempt to avoid answering.  From the corner of her eye, Veronica watches Logan as he pours coffee and dumps in a bunch of sugar and fake cream.  When he turns back to the bed, Veronica flushes; he’s almost fully erect again.

“Just got in, silly.  I was out with - having se - Veronica Mars!”  Lilly’s voice oozes shock and delight.  “You had sex, didn’t you?  Who is he?  Where are you?  C’mon, girl.”  Veronica can hear the sound of Lilly’s fingers snapping.  “You owe me!”

“Huh?  I’m sorry, Lilly.  What did you say?”  Rolling her eyes at Logan, Veronica takes the cup from his hand, slurping quickly before Logan nestles in behind and pulls her to his chest.

“Veronica!” Lilly hisses.  “Where are you?  Are you still with - Oh My God, it’s Logan, isn’t it?  You’re with Logan, aren’t you?”

“Um - I can’t talk right now.  He’s right here.”

“Put him on.”

“What?  No!”

“Now.”

“Wha - why do you want to talk to him?”

“I need to make sure he’s taking good care of you, if you know what I mean.”

Veronica looks suspiciously at her phone, then helplessly hands it over her shoulder to  Logan.  “Here.  She wants to talk to you.”