Fic: (Second) First Time
They’d talked about this, but now that it was here… it was
more overwhelming, more wonderful, more absolutely terrifying than she had
imagined. Logan
was murmuring soothing words into her hair, kissing them into her brain through
the skin of her forehead, impossibly expressive hands stroking his reassurances
down her bare arms. Under everything,
she could hear him, whispering comfort. The
aching wonder of his treating her like something precious and beautiful
almost-almost-drowned out the fear threatening to swamp her.
Kiss, stroke, touch: it’s okay. I’m here, I’m here.
She was determined to do this. To take back her body, and was grateful, so grateful, that he was the one who was going to fight this battle alongside her. She’d been waiting for him, maybe, somehow knowing that he was the one to help with this. Maybe more so now that he knew what was at stake, knew the role he’d played in her violation. She thought maybe he was just as determined as she to set it right (as much as it could be set right) by giving her a new memory, a new reference point. She desperately wanted to reset her compass by him.
Still, this was harder than she’d imagined it would be, nearly drowning in the nightmare of what it must have been like.
“Shh, shh,” he was whispering now, hands moving now to stroke down her back, bringing her back down, down from the wave of panic. “Slowly, we’ll go slowly. And we stop when you say stop.”
Gentle, gentle. You can do this. You can do anything. I have faith in you.
He leaned down to kiss her lips again, tongue flickering into her mouth like a hesitant butterfly. When he pulled back, she could see in his eyes the unspoken words, “But please, Ronnie, don’t say stop.” That they stayed unspoken assured her she had made the right decision in forgiving him, in offering him a chance at mutual forgiveness. She had no doubt that this would go a long way in helping him forgive himself as well.
She leaned up and kissed him back, pulling him flush against her, sliding her hands up his warm back. “Okay.” A pause, then, “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
“I promise, Veronica, I promise,” he whispered back, and she could see in his wide eyes how many things he meant by that promise. They’d always said so much with so few words.
He led her to his bed, first sitting and then guiding her to lie down beside him. She lay on her back, head turned towards him, and he leaned on an elbow by her side, not moving to cover her body with his own. It gave her the freedom to roll away at any moment, and she tried to show how much his insight meant to her with a smile and another whispered, “Okay.”
Trust me, Veronica, trust me? I can do this for you. Let me do this for you.
He leaned down and kissed her again, letting her adjust and explore, entwining their fingers together. He didn’t move to disentangle them until she could hear herself moaning slightly, little breathy noises that surprised her. Duncan had never drawn those from her, not like this.
Slowly, excruciatingly slowly, he traced his fingers up her arm and across her throat, stroking and tracing the shape of her bones, painting her skin with heat. Then down the centre of her chest, following the hollow where her ribs joined, as if he could see her skeleton and even it was beautiful to him. Palm flattened against the bottom ribs, thumb-oh!-brushing against her breast, nipple rising.
She could feel the heat radiating off his fingertips, even through two layers of clothing.
I will be careful with you, always careful with you. You are precious, beautiful.
She could hear herself whispering his name now, but it seemed to reassure him, so she continued. Closing her eyes, she tried to shut down her thoughts and feel nothing but the way he was exploring her, not even kissing any longer but concentrating on the patterns he was burning into her, noting every indrawn breath. His hand slid down to the hem of her shirt, fingertips brushing against bare skin.
He kissed her eyelids, willing them open. She looked at him, and he asked, “Can I?”
She nodded her permission, and lifted a little so he could peel the shirt up and over her head. She suddenly felt terribly exposed, and her breath hitched in her throat, panic flooding once again through her.
“Hey, hey,” he soothed, stroking her hair and brushing his thumbs over her cheekbones. “I’ll take mine off too, and we’ll be the same.”
She helped him pull it off, this tiny action seeming like a feat of bravery. It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen him shirtless before-the four of them had swum together plenty of times. She’d even seem him fully nude, once, for a second, when Lilly had snatched away his towel and run ahead of him into the pool house, laughing.
But this, so much of their skin exposed, alone and in his bedroom, was completely different.
I always wanted this; I think; a little. Maybe it was always you I wanted.
He found her eyes again, and she could see in his nothing but awe and kindness. So she lay back again, letting him reach for her and smooth away all her worry and fear. She even choked out the courage to trace the muscles of his arm and chest with a tentative hand, eyes wondering and bright.
He continued his slow and careful exploration while she continued hers, rubbing a palm over his nipple again when it made him gasp, tickling again at that spot under his ribs when it made him laugh. Then he was kissing her again, less carefully this time, his tongue hotter and more intoxicating when it stroked against hers than it had any right to be.
It was as if a dam broke, her fear washing away suddenly with the flood, and she clutched him to her, bringing his body down to cover hers in an ultimate declaration of trust. He covered her but would not hold her down, she told him with hands and lips. I trust you, I trust you.
That’s it. Slowly, gently. We can do this. I promise, I promise.
Time seemed to smudge everything together, making all of their movements meld into one another and stretch for hours all at once. She traced his spine, reveling in how the pressure of her fingertips made him arch into her and gasp her name; he traced her jaw line and throat with his tongue, making her shiver and pull him down closer. He touched her as if he could see through her skin, excavate her soul.
She was just thinking that they weren’t close enough yet when time tricked her again; blurring the moment he unbuckled and unzipped them both, so when she came back to herself they were separated by only the thin cotton of her underwear and his.
He slowed then, looking for any trace of regret or fear in her eyes. She knew he wouldn’t find the regret, but the fear she was not so sure she could hide, not sure it could go away ever if they didn’t do this.
“Please, Logan,” she murmured.
Beautiful. You’re so beautiful. Don’t ever doubt it.
When he slid inside her, it hurt, but only for a moment, and was soothed away by his kisses into her hair, her eyelids, her lips. He stilled, letting her remember how to breathe again, then began a slow, sliding motion. “Open your eyes, Ronnie,” he whispered.
She looked up at him, and saw the million things he didn’t know how to say. She smiled, and said the million more she couldn’t.
Their rhythms merged, wrapped around them like music just too soft to hear, and drew them inexorably towards completion. She watched him carefully and saw him doing the same, holding his gaze like it was her only lifeline to the world. Then, as his hips sped up, he dropped his head to her shoulder and groaned into her neck, “Oh God, Veronica.”
She kissed his hair, giving her own reassurances and benediction, and pulled him to her as hard as she could. She came apart a moment before he did, fingerprints pressed so hard into his back that she was sure there would be marks for days.
Her body buzzing and skin tingling as it had never done before, she curled into his side after he slid off her, his arms wrapping tightly around her. “Thank you,” he said, lips pressed against the top of her head. She felt somehow that it should be the other way around, but accepted it anyhow, kissing his overheated skin. He shifted and pulled the blanket up more closely around her bare shoulders, spreading a hand across her shoulder blades to hold her to him more securely.
Mine. Can I keep you? This means everything to me.
As her eyes drifted closed, she heard him murmur, “Welcome back,” and knew he had understood her need to regain the title deed to her own body.
She shifted even closer and traced her initials on his chest. “Welcome home.”
End
Kiss, stroke, touch: it’s okay. I’m here, I’m here.
She was determined to do this. To take back her body, and was grateful, so grateful, that he was the one who was going to fight this battle alongside her. She’d been waiting for him, maybe, somehow knowing that he was the one to help with this. Maybe more so now that he knew what was at stake, knew the role he’d played in her violation. She thought maybe he was just as determined as she to set it right (as much as it could be set right) by giving her a new memory, a new reference point. She desperately wanted to reset her compass by him.
Still, this was harder than she’d imagined it would be, nearly drowning in the nightmare of what it must have been like.
“Shh, shh,” he was whispering now, hands moving now to stroke down her back, bringing her back down, down from the wave of panic. “Slowly, we’ll go slowly. And we stop when you say stop.”
Gentle, gentle. You can do this. You can do anything. I have faith in you.
He leaned down to kiss her lips again, tongue flickering into her mouth like a hesitant butterfly. When he pulled back, she could see in his eyes the unspoken words, “But please, Ronnie, don’t say stop.” That they stayed unspoken assured her she had made the right decision in forgiving him, in offering him a chance at mutual forgiveness. She had no doubt that this would go a long way in helping him forgive himself as well.
She leaned up and kissed him back, pulling him flush against her, sliding her hands up his warm back. “Okay.” A pause, then, “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
“I promise, Veronica, I promise,” he whispered back, and she could see in his wide eyes how many things he meant by that promise. They’d always said so much with so few words.
He led her to his bed, first sitting and then guiding her to lie down beside him. She lay on her back, head turned towards him, and he leaned on an elbow by her side, not moving to cover her body with his own. It gave her the freedom to roll away at any moment, and she tried to show how much his insight meant to her with a smile and another whispered, “Okay.”
Trust me, Veronica, trust me? I can do this for you. Let me do this for you.
He leaned down and kissed her again, letting her adjust and explore, entwining their fingers together. He didn’t move to disentangle them until she could hear herself moaning slightly, little breathy noises that surprised her. Duncan had never drawn those from her, not like this.
Slowly, excruciatingly slowly, he traced his fingers up her arm and across her throat, stroking and tracing the shape of her bones, painting her skin with heat. Then down the centre of her chest, following the hollow where her ribs joined, as if he could see her skeleton and even it was beautiful to him. Palm flattened against the bottom ribs, thumb-oh!-brushing against her breast, nipple rising.
She could feel the heat radiating off his fingertips, even through two layers of clothing.
I will be careful with you, always careful with you. You are precious, beautiful.
She could hear herself whispering his name now, but it seemed to reassure him, so she continued. Closing her eyes, she tried to shut down her thoughts and feel nothing but the way he was exploring her, not even kissing any longer but concentrating on the patterns he was burning into her, noting every indrawn breath. His hand slid down to the hem of her shirt, fingertips brushing against bare skin.
He kissed her eyelids, willing them open. She looked at him, and he asked, “Can I?”
She nodded her permission, and lifted a little so he could peel the shirt up and over her head. She suddenly felt terribly exposed, and her breath hitched in her throat, panic flooding once again through her.
“Hey, hey,” he soothed, stroking her hair and brushing his thumbs over her cheekbones. “I’ll take mine off too, and we’ll be the same.”
She helped him pull it off, this tiny action seeming like a feat of bravery. It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen him shirtless before-the four of them had swum together plenty of times. She’d even seem him fully nude, once, for a second, when Lilly had snatched away his towel and run ahead of him into the pool house, laughing.
But this, so much of their skin exposed, alone and in his bedroom, was completely different.
I always wanted this; I think; a little. Maybe it was always you I wanted.
He found her eyes again, and she could see in his nothing but awe and kindness. So she lay back again, letting him reach for her and smooth away all her worry and fear. She even choked out the courage to trace the muscles of his arm and chest with a tentative hand, eyes wondering and bright.
He continued his slow and careful exploration while she continued hers, rubbing a palm over his nipple again when it made him gasp, tickling again at that spot under his ribs when it made him laugh. Then he was kissing her again, less carefully this time, his tongue hotter and more intoxicating when it stroked against hers than it had any right to be.
It was as if a dam broke, her fear washing away suddenly with the flood, and she clutched him to her, bringing his body down to cover hers in an ultimate declaration of trust. He covered her but would not hold her down, she told him with hands and lips. I trust you, I trust you.
That’s it. Slowly, gently. We can do this. I promise, I promise.
Time seemed to smudge everything together, making all of their movements meld into one another and stretch for hours all at once. She traced his spine, reveling in how the pressure of her fingertips made him arch into her and gasp her name; he traced her jaw line and throat with his tongue, making her shiver and pull him down closer. He touched her as if he could see through her skin, excavate her soul.
She was just thinking that they weren’t close enough yet when time tricked her again; blurring the moment he unbuckled and unzipped them both, so when she came back to herself they were separated by only the thin cotton of her underwear and his.
He slowed then, looking for any trace of regret or fear in her eyes. She knew he wouldn’t find the regret, but the fear she was not so sure she could hide, not sure it could go away ever if they didn’t do this.
“Please, Logan,” she murmured.
Beautiful. You’re so beautiful. Don’t ever doubt it.
When he slid inside her, it hurt, but only for a moment, and was soothed away by his kisses into her hair, her eyelids, her lips. He stilled, letting her remember how to breathe again, then began a slow, sliding motion. “Open your eyes, Ronnie,” he whispered.
She looked up at him, and saw the million things he didn’t know how to say. She smiled, and said the million more she couldn’t.
Their rhythms merged, wrapped around them like music just too soft to hear, and drew them inexorably towards completion. She watched him carefully and saw him doing the same, holding his gaze like it was her only lifeline to the world. Then, as his hips sped up, he dropped his head to her shoulder and groaned into her neck, “Oh God, Veronica.”
She kissed his hair, giving her own reassurances and benediction, and pulled him to her as hard as she could. She came apart a moment before he did, fingerprints pressed so hard into his back that she was sure there would be marks for days.
Her body buzzing and skin tingling as it had never done before, she curled into his side after he slid off her, his arms wrapping tightly around her. “Thank you,” he said, lips pressed against the top of her head. She felt somehow that it should be the other way around, but accepted it anyhow, kissing his overheated skin. He shifted and pulled the blanket up more closely around her bare shoulders, spreading a hand across her shoulder blades to hold her to him more securely.
Mine. Can I keep you? This means everything to me.
As her eyes drifted closed, she heard him murmur, “Welcome back,” and knew he had understood her need to regain the title deed to her own body.
She shifted even closer and traced her initials on his chest. “Welcome home.”
End