Fic: Imprints (Veronica/Logan) NC-17
Title: Imprints
Author: Sophia_bee
Pairing/Character: Veronica/Logan
Word Count: 1436
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Trying to pick up the pieces in the aftermath.
Spoilers/Warnings: Season 1, dark themes, angst
He leaves his mark.
Fingers dig into the delicate skin covering her hips. She bites her lip as her face presses into the rough textured wall covering shipped from an exclusive designer in Milan. Logan is pressing into her back, his lips on her neck, his hands wrapped around her rib cage, cupping her breasts.
“I need you.” He whispers in her ear. Veronica can only manage a grunt back.
In the morning she’ll stand in the bathroom and look at her reflection in the mirror, tracing each purple black mark with her fingers. She’ll press lightly at the damaged skin until it hurts just a little. She’ll smile.
He wraps his arms around her shoulders and pulls her back against his chest, breathing softly into her hair. She tilts her head back and rests it on his chest, feeling the way it rises up and down with each breath. In the distance they can hear the cars on the freeway filled with people always going somewhere, never staying. The white noise almost sounds like secret whispers that she thinks she might catch if she can stay still enough.
They find all the cracks and crevices in Neptune where they can hide their secret. A beach around the bend where he parks the rental car takes her hand in his and leads her to the edge of the sand. They nestle behind piles of driftwood. Veronica tilts her face to the sky and watches as birds fly by. The waves crash in the background.
Just when she feels his breathing slow to almost nothing Veronica turns and presses her mouth to his with sudden desperation. Logan jumps in surprise then kisses her back. It’s all tongue and teeth and spit as his hands slip her tank top over her head. He has one of her nipples in his mouth as she tugs at his shirt until he has to unlatch while she pulls it over his head. Then they are skin to skin, pressing against each other. She’s straddling his hips, fingers fumbling with his zipper. He’s pulling at the edge of her sensible cotton panties until they slip down her thighs, over he knees and she shakes them into the sand. His hands aren’t gentle as he helps lift her hips up. Veronica’s head falls back and her mouth opens at the feel of him sinking deep inside her. She closes her eyes as the sun shines brightly in the faded blue sky. His hands grip hard, holding her so she doesn’t float away.
She’ll have more bruises in the morning. Evidence.
Logan wraps his coat around her shoulders when Veronica shivers. He opens the door of his car and helps her in. They say nothing when he drops her off at her apartment. She touches her lips as she closes the door and feels the imprint of his kiss.
They have an unspoken understanding about how it works. He fucks her. Sometimes she thinks she can feel his tears on her skin as he buries his head in her neck and breathes her name. Most of the time he slams her against the wall or pushes her back onto the couch, grinding his hard cock against her, she pushes back, trying to find friction that will stop the tight ache that starts every time she sees him. Their fingers fumble with zippers and buttons and snaps. There are no movies or holding hands or chaste goodnight kisses. They lost all formalities of teenage dating sometime between her near death by fire and the trial of the century.
They have an agreement.
Their eyes will never meet in the hallways. He’ll never wait for her during lunch. They will never sit together, heads bent together for the secret conversations of girlfriend and boyfriend. He’ll never ask her to the prom. She’ll never bring him to dinner to meet her father.
It’s an agreement written in Lilly’s blood and Aaron’s betrayal.
He leaves his mark. No matter how she tries she can’t wash it off. It’s a whisper in her ear, the way he says her name. He has her pinned against the wall behind the Tasty Freeze, his mouth on hers. She might be worried someone is watching except his hand is up her skirt and his fingers are slipping inside her, slick and wet. She presses down and closes her eyes, pushes her hips out. She ends up panting, head thrown back against the rough brick, but somehow manages to take his hand in hers and lead him back to his car, pushing him into the backseat. She fucks him, thighs hot and sweaty, straddling his hips, biting her lip as he slams into her. Her head lolls and she laughs a little as she watches his eyes lose focus. She almost gasps his name but manages to hold back as she comes undone.
In the deepest night he whispers to her, tells her how they could run away together. Mexico. Spain. Anywhere she goddamned wants to go. She squeezes her eyes shut and pretends to be asleep. She still wants to believe the mark he’s left isn’t permanent.
They fight. His eyes are watery, edged with salt and she wonders what his tears would taste like. She wants to reach out and touch his cheek, lick the tips of her fingers, taste the bitterness. Instead her hands hang by her sides. She leaves her mark. Words used like surgical instruments, inserted carefully into places guaranteed the most destruction. She refuses to cry in front of him. He walks away, hands shoved deep in his pockets. She memorizes the way his shoulders slump.
It never would have worked anyway.
Two weeks go by.
She wakes up and swears she can feel him next to her, hear his breathing. He’s left his imprint on the sheets, the outline of his sleeping body. She reaches out and she thinks they’re still warm. For a second she hates him.
Two more weeks.
Veronica develops of habit of staring into space. It happens at the most inconvenient times. She’ll be sitting in class, listening to the lecture, then she’s back there, on that beach, his fingers tangled in her hair and she can smell the hot sand and hear the cries of birds around them, a child laughing in the distance. She can feel his fingers tracing the shell of her ear, making their way down her neck. Then the teacher is calling her name and she blinks him away, stutters a little then asks to be excused to the bathroom.
She walks to her car, crossing the black asphalt that radiates heat from the afternoon sun. She’s surrounded by people, laughing, yelling, pulling on backpacks, making plans for the weekend. Surrounded by people but still alone. She slips into her car and sits for a moment, the hot vinyl burning the backs of her thighs. Veronica stares at her hands. They look alien, like they belong to someone else, translucent skin streaked with blue veins. She realizes they’re shaking. Her whole body is shaking. She rests her forehead against the steering wheel and cries. Hot tears stream down her face, soaking through her shirt. Her nose runs and she sniffs as her body shudders with the force of her sobs.
She loves him. At least she thinks that’s what the pain lodged deep in her chest could mean, what the dreams that leave her shaking, curled in a ball are trying to tell her.
Fuck.
There is a tap on the window and Veronica jerks. She wipes her eyes and looks up to see.
Logan.
He is looking at her, his eyes filled with pain and something else. She can’t breath as they stare at each other. Then everything clicks into place. In a quick motion she pushes out of her seat, unlocks the car door and throws herself into his arms.
“Goddamned you.” She mutters as their mouths meet, slick with spit and tasting blood as their teeth clash together. Her arms are around his neck pulling him closer but never close enough.
“I couldn’t stay away.” He whispers, his mouth centimeters away, forehead resting against hers. Veronica closes her eyes.
“I’m sorry.” She breathes.
“Me too.” He whispers, holding her close, not caring who sees.
“Don’t leave me again.” Veronica’s voice is muffled in the thick corduroy of his jacket.
“Never.”
They still have their agreement. They won’t hold hands in the hallways. They won’t go to the prom. He might meet her dad. He leaves his mark but at some point she stopped caring if it’s permanent.
Author: Sophia_bee
Pairing/Character: Veronica/Logan
Word Count: 1436
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Trying to pick up the pieces in the aftermath.
Spoilers/Warnings: Season 1, dark themes, angst
He leaves his mark.
Fingers dig into the delicate skin covering her hips. She bites her lip as her face presses into the rough textured wall covering shipped from an exclusive designer in Milan. Logan is pressing into her back, his lips on her neck, his hands wrapped around her rib cage, cupping her breasts.
“I need you.” He whispers in her ear. Veronica can only manage a grunt back.
In the morning she’ll stand in the bathroom and look at her reflection in the mirror, tracing each purple black mark with her fingers. She’ll press lightly at the damaged skin until it hurts just a little. She’ll smile.
He wraps his arms around her shoulders and pulls her back against his chest, breathing softly into her hair. She tilts her head back and rests it on his chest, feeling the way it rises up and down with each breath. In the distance they can hear the cars on the freeway filled with people always going somewhere, never staying. The white noise almost sounds like secret whispers that she thinks she might catch if she can stay still enough.
They find all the cracks and crevices in Neptune where they can hide their secret. A beach around the bend where he parks the rental car takes her hand in his and leads her to the edge of the sand. They nestle behind piles of driftwood. Veronica tilts her face to the sky and watches as birds fly by. The waves crash in the background.
Just when she feels his breathing slow to almost nothing Veronica turns and presses her mouth to his with sudden desperation. Logan jumps in surprise then kisses her back. It’s all tongue and teeth and spit as his hands slip her tank top over her head. He has one of her nipples in his mouth as she tugs at his shirt until he has to unlatch while she pulls it over his head. Then they are skin to skin, pressing against each other. She’s straddling his hips, fingers fumbling with his zipper. He’s pulling at the edge of her sensible cotton panties until they slip down her thighs, over he knees and she shakes them into the sand. His hands aren’t gentle as he helps lift her hips up. Veronica’s head falls back and her mouth opens at the feel of him sinking deep inside her. She closes her eyes as the sun shines brightly in the faded blue sky. His hands grip hard, holding her so she doesn’t float away.
She’ll have more bruises in the morning. Evidence.
Logan wraps his coat around her shoulders when Veronica shivers. He opens the door of his car and helps her in. They say nothing when he drops her off at her apartment. She touches her lips as she closes the door and feels the imprint of his kiss.
They have an unspoken understanding about how it works. He fucks her. Sometimes she thinks she can feel his tears on her skin as he buries his head in her neck and breathes her name. Most of the time he slams her against the wall or pushes her back onto the couch, grinding his hard cock against her, she pushes back, trying to find friction that will stop the tight ache that starts every time she sees him. Their fingers fumble with zippers and buttons and snaps. There are no movies or holding hands or chaste goodnight kisses. They lost all formalities of teenage dating sometime between her near death by fire and the trial of the century.
They have an agreement.
Their eyes will never meet in the hallways. He’ll never wait for her during lunch. They will never sit together, heads bent together for the secret conversations of girlfriend and boyfriend. He’ll never ask her to the prom. She’ll never bring him to dinner to meet her father.
It’s an agreement written in Lilly’s blood and Aaron’s betrayal.
He leaves his mark. No matter how she tries she can’t wash it off. It’s a whisper in her ear, the way he says her name. He has her pinned against the wall behind the Tasty Freeze, his mouth on hers. She might be worried someone is watching except his hand is up her skirt and his fingers are slipping inside her, slick and wet. She presses down and closes her eyes, pushes her hips out. She ends up panting, head thrown back against the rough brick, but somehow manages to take his hand in hers and lead him back to his car, pushing him into the backseat. She fucks him, thighs hot and sweaty, straddling his hips, biting her lip as he slams into her. Her head lolls and she laughs a little as she watches his eyes lose focus. She almost gasps his name but manages to hold back as she comes undone.
In the deepest night he whispers to her, tells her how they could run away together. Mexico. Spain. Anywhere she goddamned wants to go. She squeezes her eyes shut and pretends to be asleep. She still wants to believe the mark he’s left isn’t permanent.
They fight. His eyes are watery, edged with salt and she wonders what his tears would taste like. She wants to reach out and touch his cheek, lick the tips of her fingers, taste the bitterness. Instead her hands hang by her sides. She leaves her mark. Words used like surgical instruments, inserted carefully into places guaranteed the most destruction. She refuses to cry in front of him. He walks away, hands shoved deep in his pockets. She memorizes the way his shoulders slump.
It never would have worked anyway.
Two weeks go by.
She wakes up and swears she can feel him next to her, hear his breathing. He’s left his imprint on the sheets, the outline of his sleeping body. She reaches out and she thinks they’re still warm. For a second she hates him.
Two more weeks.
Veronica develops of habit of staring into space. It happens at the most inconvenient times. She’ll be sitting in class, listening to the lecture, then she’s back there, on that beach, his fingers tangled in her hair and she can smell the hot sand and hear the cries of birds around them, a child laughing in the distance. She can feel his fingers tracing the shell of her ear, making their way down her neck. Then the teacher is calling her name and she blinks him away, stutters a little then asks to be excused to the bathroom.
She walks to her car, crossing the black asphalt that radiates heat from the afternoon sun. She’s surrounded by people, laughing, yelling, pulling on backpacks, making plans for the weekend. Surrounded by people but still alone. She slips into her car and sits for a moment, the hot vinyl burning the backs of her thighs. Veronica stares at her hands. They look alien, like they belong to someone else, translucent skin streaked with blue veins. She realizes they’re shaking. Her whole body is shaking. She rests her forehead against the steering wheel and cries. Hot tears stream down her face, soaking through her shirt. Her nose runs and she sniffs as her body shudders with the force of her sobs.
She loves him. At least she thinks that’s what the pain lodged deep in her chest could mean, what the dreams that leave her shaking, curled in a ball are trying to tell her.
Fuck.
There is a tap on the window and Veronica jerks. She wipes her eyes and looks up to see.
Logan.
He is looking at her, his eyes filled with pain and something else. She can’t breath as they stare at each other. Then everything clicks into place. In a quick motion she pushes out of her seat, unlocks the car door and throws herself into his arms.
“Goddamned you.” She mutters as their mouths meet, slick with spit and tasting blood as their teeth clash together. Her arms are around his neck pulling him closer but never close enough.
“I couldn’t stay away.” He whispers, his mouth centimeters away, forehead resting against hers. Veronica closes her eyes.
“I’m sorry.” She breathes.
“Me too.” He whispers, holding her close, not caring who sees.
“Don’t leave me again.” Veronica’s voice is muffled in the thick corduroy of his jacket.
“Never.”
They still have their agreement. They won’t hold hands in the hallways. They won’t go to the prom. He might meet her dad. He leaves his mark but at some point she stopped caring if it’s permanent.