TITLE: CRASH Beta Love: Thanks to my dearest siryn99 and lunasky, who
always stick by me and pester me when I'm in a rut; nm973 for some
great character direction; and ms_pie and chele74 for letting
me pick their brains about CA colleges. Any typos in this last edit are
all mine. |
||
They are about to start another round of asshole when Dick’s cell goes off, stopping the game as he steps away from the fire to answer it. Veronica is secretly glad for the break and gets up to stretch her legs. When she stands, she chooses her steps carefully as she moves into the darkness beyond the fire, trying to hide that she is a little tipsy. She starts back up to the main house but instead finds herself distracted by the dock. It’s quiet there away from the fire. She sits down dangling her legs over the edge and leans up against a mooring post, listening to the water lapping against the wooden support beams. They have spent many hours hanging out on this dock, though one summer night stands out in her mind. She had snuck out with Lilly after everyone was asleep, and they had talked endlessly, playing games to predict the future. It was so easy back then to choose where they would go to college, as if all they had to do was blink and their dreams would come true. Well really, Lilly was the one with the big dreams. Veronica hadn’t even begun to think of college at that point. USC was Lilly’s top choice since actual career decisions were still unfathomably far away, and Veronica was more than happy to go along. She could still see the mischief in Lilly’s eyes as she announced that they would start off the school year with sorority rush and after a tortuous decision between Tri Delt and Kappa, they would pledge Tri Delt. For once Lilly actually wanted to claim her mom’s legacy. Veronica had been in awe of Lilly’s ambition as Lilly rattled off the frat party t-shirts they would collect, and the pledge pranks they would play. One particularly wild plot involving whipped cream and a boys dorm had Veronica turning bright pink and collapsing in a fit of giggles. It was such an innocent, yet patented-Lilly fantasy, and it’s still hard for Veronica to believe it will never come true. It has been a while since she thought about going to college with Lilly. She feels silly for getting so sentimental and wants to blame it on the fact that tomorrow she will go back to Neptune and review her dorm room checklist one last time before she and her father drive to a very different college than the one Lilly had chosen. “Mars, if you keep thinking that hard, your brain will explode.” Caught up in her thoughts of pledge parties, she hadn’t noticed Logan come up behind her. He leans against the opposite post, his hip cocked to the side and a bottle of JD dangling between his fingers. “Well, at least one of us is trying not to kill any more brain cells,” she says and gives a pointed look at the whiskey bottle. “Come on now, you can do better than that,” he laughs. “Actually, I was thinking about Lilly.” Her voice is soft as she turns to watch him, knowing that he might actually understand her train of thought. “Me too,” he says quietly and sits down next to her. “Lilly would have loved college. It would have been a grand adventure to finally be out from under Celeste’s thumb.” “I always thought we would be college roommates,” she confesses. “Now that’s a picture. I can see it now, ‘College Girls Gone Wild: Neptune Freshman Edition,’” he says, framing the headline. She punches him in the shoulder in mock indignation. “Oh no, Lilly would have been the amateur video star. I’d probably have the dorm to myself most of the time.” “Yeah, you’ll be Miss Dean’s List, camping out in the library,” he says making a show of rubbing his shoulder. “Got to keep up the GPA for the scholarships,” she says glibly. Not for the first time, she wonders why they always remembered Good Time Lilly and never talked about Lilly’s destructive side that had cost them both dearly. But then that was the fun of Lilly – you weren’t allowed to take yourself too seriously around her. Logan sighs, lost in his own memories, and tilts the whiskey bottle to his lips and takes a swig. The silence stretches a little too long, so she takes the bottle from him and chokes as the alcohol bites against her throat. “So you ready to blow this pop stand? Unleash that special brand of Mars terror on the real world and never look back?” Logan asks. A year ago, she had thought longingly of skipping her senior year and escaping to college, but now she knows she would never have been able to survive on her own. There were too many things that had to happen first. She had to put Lily’s death behind her and make sense of the chain reaction of events that followed before she was ready for college. A burst of cussing erupts behind them as Dick stumbles around in the dark. “Hey guys, Casey just called – he’s buying out a fireworks stand. We’re going to go to the other side of the lake and set them off,” he says as the boards creak under him and then adds, “I think Madison might be there.” Veronica rolls her eyes, coughing to cover her laugh, and Logan murmurs that he caught that. Maybe the alcohol is making her maudlin, but now that she has stepped away, the last thing she wants to do is to join up with yet another party. Thankfully Logan saves her. “You guys go on ahead. We’ll catch up to you.” “Suit yourself,” Dick says and starts to walk away but then turns and says, “Veronica, remember I want my new roommate back in one piece and ready for wingman duty.” “You know, according to Quentin Tarantino, Top Gun is actually about a man’s struggle with his own homosexuality,” she says. Her deadpan catches Logan in mid-swallow and he sprays out the whiskey. “Hey now. I’ve never had any complaints. Want to try these balls of fire?” Dick says as he grabs his crotch. “Save me Veronica!” Logan counters, going along with her and clutching her arm. “Don’t worry Logan; I’ll protect your virtue. As long as I can ride you hard and put you away wet,” she says sweetly. “I think I just got hard.” Logan leers back at her. “Hey, that’s just not fair,” Dick says, his voice jumping an octave. They can’t help but crack up at Dick’s bewilderment as he finally gives up and walks away mumbling something about pick-up lines. Veronica sighs in an attempt to catch her breath and looks away, her cheeks burning bright against the darkness. When she looks back at Logan, she murmurs her thanks. “Well, I think we have exhausted the last party theme,” Logan says, oddly calm. “Besides, if you have seen Dick get shot down once, you’ve seen it a thousand times.” Veronica groans at the unpleasant mental image and takes the bottle back from him. This shot goes straight to her head, and she clutches the ground in attempt to control the dizzying rush. She leans back on her elbows, deciding that sitting up is too much effort, and a strange lassitude settles over her. When she looks back at Logan, he has a curious expression on her face. “Such a light weight. You’ll never survive college,” he says. “Hey, I wanted to see the stars.” She makes her excuse and lies fully back on the dock, her hands resting on her stomach. He takes a long shot from the bottle as if for courage and then flops down next to her, his elbow barely touching hers. “Wow, there sure are a lot of them,” he says. It’s then that Veronica realizes, she is on a dock alone with Logan. Really alone. Sure there have been a thousand times over their senior year when they found themselves alone together. It had taken awhile, but somewhere in between clearing him for murder and finding Duncan in bed with Kendall, they called a truce and remembered they were friends. Of course he still gets under her skin on a regular basis, but she often thinks he’s just trying to give her an excuse to yell at him. But tonight, she is wary to admit, feels like a step back in time. It feels like before – before the trials, before solving Lilly’s murder, before life spiraled beyond their control. She tries to tell herself it’s just the alcohol, but alcohol doesn’t make the hair on her arms prickle the way Logan can. And there on the dock with Logan lying next to her, her mind starts to wander through all the “what if’s” she has built up inside of her over the last year; the ones she usually tries very hard not to acknowledge. It’s surprising how easy it still is to get caught up in Logan. She takes a deep breath to try and steady herself away from those dangerous thoughts. “Hey, you’re not gonna fall asleep on me here are you?” he reaches over and takes her hand in his. “Cause I just ditched an opportunity to play with fire.” She finds her fingers laced through his and marvels at the simplicity of the gesture. “Sorry, didn’t mean to be such a wet blanket.” “Well, really you are probably saving me from arson charges when Dick sets someone’s house on fire. Besides, I’d rather be here with you.” He draws his thumb in small circles over hers, and she doesn’t want to think why such a small movement can make her feel so vulnerable. She is desperate for a distraction, but her mind is strangely blank and won’t focus on anything except the scent of him next to her – that certain mixture of soap and whiskey. Just then, a brilliant light streaks into the night sky with a loud pop. Grateful for the diversion, she points out the fireworks. He squeezes her hand as they watch the dazzling reds and blues and greens and bright whites bloom across the lake. Some streak up and explode without much excitement, more noise than anything else, but her favorites are the starbursts that glitter as they fall away. The air around them is thick and heady and alive, and her mind swirls with the whiskey and the fireworks but most of all with him. She doesn’t notice that he has propped himself up on his elbow, gazing down at her, until he reaches over to brush the hair back from her forehead. And suddenly she is not watching the fireworks. His expression is intense yet vulnerable in the half-light. His fingers trail down, caressing her cheek, and slowly, slowly, he dips his lips to hers. They are soft and firm and she gasps against them as she can’t ignore the warmth spreading through her until she shifts in response, pressing her legs together. He pulls back a fraction to weigh her hesitance and watches as she licks her lips, savoring the lingering taste of him. He smirks at her unconscious reaction and swoops back in kissing her fully. She opens her mouth to him, accepting him by rote. She remembers this feeling all too well from late nights outside her apartment and steamed up car windows. She thinks she should try and remember all the many reasons why this is not a good idea until his hand settles on her hip, pulling her firmly against him and captivating her with his confidence. Those reasons dissipate, and they settle into leisurely, long kisses. Breaths become increasingly shaky and hands trail over muscles and curves. The firework display is long over and long forgotten, until a car door slams in the driveway. They jerk back, startled, and Veronica accidentally knocks the whiskey bottle off the pier as she sits up. It splashes into the water, and they look at each other stunned for a moment. “Well, there goes the booze,” he says, unable to stay silent. She presses her finger to his lips hoping that they will escape notice. “Sorry about that,” she whispers and kisses him quickly, unwilling to let go of the moment. “That’s okay, I can think of better ways to pass the night,” he says seriously. He stands up and pulls her to her feet. It’s not chilly but she rubs her arms self-consciously. “Care to join me upstairs?” he asks as he wraps his arms around her. It’s silly but now that this initial spell is broken, it’s a much bigger decision to move forward. “I promise not to bite,” he jokes at her hesitation. She slides her hand into his and lets him lead her back to the house. As they slip upstairs, she finally admits to herself just how much she wants this, even needs this. She has teased herself many nights with images of his sure hands running over her body, and part of her is scared to mess with that fantasy. But another part of her says the real thing may actually be so much better and while the thought of sharing herself so intimately with him is scary, she realizes she is more afraid of letting her last opportunity to find out slip through her fingers. Seeing the bed in the master suite, she steals up her determination and pushes him onto it, kissing him as if she is trying to devour him. Her greedy fingers fly through the buttons of his shirt, and when she draws back to pull her tank top over her head, she musses her hair in her haste. She straddles him grabbing his wrists and pinning them above his head while grinding her hips into his to see him grin up at her. Her lips taste the salt of his neck and her teeth nip at his skin, staking her claim with marks that will linger after this night fades. The low rumble in his throat spurs her on, but when she reaches to undo his belt, he puts his hands on her shoulders to slow her down. “Hey tiger, we have all night here, there’s no rush.” His voice is thick in the dark. “All night, huh? This must be my lucky day,” she says with a raised eyebrow. He shifts, so they are facing each other and cups her hand to his cheek with his own. He turns to press small kisses against her palm and down her wrist but pauses at her pulse point. “Your heart is racing.” His intensity is not disguised by the half-light of the moon filtering through the curtains. It’s trusting and patient and very mesmerizing. When he finally leans in to kiss her, the pace is slow and sure and aching. As his lips leave her mouth and trail down her neck, she fully realizes the folly of her false bravado. She thought she could stay in control by taking the lead, the way she has always Duncan, but Logan won’t let her do that. Logan is never in control, and that fact scares her more than a bit. And it strikes her that she may have more on the line here tonight with Logan than she ever did with Duncan. Logan won’t let her rush this. While he may be exasperating, when he finally makes up his mind to go after something, she knows he pursues it with all his heart. It’s what she loves about him though she won’t admit it. When they first got together, those honest looks were so addictive. Despite how many times he had been hurt and disappointed, he was still willing to trust her. And because he is so open, the real danger, she thinks, is that she can’t help but feel that she owes him the same. That is why last summer was so painful - he wasn’t that Logan. He was missing that devil may care attitude, and while they were together, she could never shake off the dead, vacant look in his eyes. She knew he needed to be saved, but she couldn’t figure how. Or she didn’t want to lose herself in the process. She realizes that Logan is staring at her again, toying with the scalloped edge of her bra, his lips twitching as he waits for her to come back to him. “I hope you went somewhere good.” “How do we keep ending up like this?” He just smiles and runs his thumbs over the fabric covering her nipples. Her eyes slip shut as her chest rises to meet his touch. “I don’t know,” he says honestly. “I guess I believe that somewhere in that complicated brain of yours is a Veronica Mars who can’t resist my charms.” And as is if to demonstrate those charms, he pulls her up slightly and releases the catch with an expert flick of the wrist. They’ve been this far before. They are more than familiar with heady makeout sessions, but they both know this is different. This time they can’t chicken out. Her eyes flutter back open as one palm closes over her breast while his lips search out her nipple. Her skin tingles with the electricity of his touch. Her hand finds its way to his head and rakes through his hair. When he shifts to give her other nipple the same attention, she can’t keep the low moan out of her throat. She is so lost in his lips, that she doesn’t realize that he has slid her shorts over her hips, until his teasing fingers just barely trace over the center of her panties. She bites her lip as his hand slips under her panties and his index finger glides over her clit. His fingers dip lower, and he grins. “You’re so wet.” And his fingers are so quick and talented, and she is mesmerized by their motion, her hips moving along with the pressure of his hand. When he pulls back, she frowns at the loss of friction. He grins wickedly. “Patience my dear. You will like this ever better.” And he even has the nerve to smirk as his hands find her hips and slide her panties down before he crawls between her legs. A twinge of modesty strikes her as she is displayed before him, and she wants to close her legs, but anticipation stops her. He traces his fingers over her once more, and his eyes sparkle as his mouth covers her, his tongue teasing sensitive flesh. She tries to surpress her moans, but she can’t keep quiet, and she would be embarrassed to know how loud she is, if it didn’t feel so damn good. He slides a finger inside her to join the motion of his tongue, and she feels a high-tension wire pulled tight inside her, so tight it is threatening to snap. His slippery tongue and lips are just unbearable. She is almost, almost there and she is thrusting her hips, desperate to increase the pressure and he obliges. When the wire snaps, it is sheer bliss, and he rides the waves that pass through her with his lips until she is quiet. “Damn.” She says, her mind fighting for a coherent thought. She feels boneless as he crawls back up her body, so she looks at him sternly. “Don’t look so smug.” “I told you he didn’t do it right,” he whispers. She wants to smack him, but she is itching, ready to be with him. She slides his boxers off his hips and takes him in her hand, and it is finally his turn to gasp. Her fingers slide firmly around him as his jaw goes slack. She can’t help but smirk at the power she feels with him in her hand. Of course, her smugness prompts him to try and regain some semblance of control and he stills her hand. “Veronica, are you sure?” he asks sounding strangely vulnerable. “Oh stop, don’t go getting all girly on me,” she says as she resumes her stroking. “Hey. Far be it for me to try and protect your virtue,” he says as he thrusts up into her hand with obvious pleasure. She rolls her eyes at him and reaches over the side of the bed to retrieve his jeans and find the condom that she knows is stashed in his wallet. “Logan, I want really this. I don’t want to leave for college without knowing what it is like to be with you. Besides, you have a promise to uphold.” She hopes it is enough to satisfy him. She thinks she detects sadness, but she is smoothing the condom over him, and he is too much an eighteen-year-old guy to this pass up. She braces one hand on his shoulder and guides him into her. As she sinks over him, she winces at his size. She doesn’t realize that she has shut her eyes and her forehead is scrunched up until he leans in and brushes his lips to her forehead to try to soothe the tension. “Oh God Veronica, you feel so damn good,” he whispers as he wraps his arms around her. Eventually, the stinging subsides and her muscles relax to accommodate him. When she rocks her hips into him, a growl escapes his throat, and he slides his hands to her hips to sets them in motion. It’s a good tease, but eventually her thighs are aching and she wants more. Her voice is shaky when she calls his name. She is glad when he repositions them so he is on top, and she clutches him to her tightly as he leads them in an insistent rhythm, hips colliding with each thrust. He feels so deep inside of her, and she is panting, hanging on the edge of ecstasy. He responds with a little more thrust and he is right there with her, calling out her name as they come together, in a panting mess of tangled limbs and heated flesh and quivering muscles baptized in a fine sheen of sweat. Eventually, they roll apart and he slips out of her and reaches in between them to take the condom and dispose of it in the wastebasket beside the bed. As soon as he lays back down Veronica presses herself against him, skin to skin and fingers glide over each other, exploring as they leisurely kiss with swollen lips. * * * * * * And last all night they did. As the night fades away into the warm tones of sunrise, and they lay together in a sleep-deprived delirium, fingers drinking in skin, unable to stop their lazy motion. She doesn’t remember how many times they made love in that euphoric haze, but she knows that night will be eternally branded into her memory. When it’s time for her to leave, they are reluctant to say words that they know will only get in the way. This isn’t the start of a relationship, but it also doesn’t feel like the end of a one either. So they communicate through small gestures – the a kiss on her shoulder blade before she leaves the bed, her throwing her arms around him to tell him he really does meaning everything to her, the steady support of his hand on the small of her back as he guides her to her car. And finally his last kiss on her forehead before he releases her. As she drives away, she knows she will feel his phantom hands over her body for days to come. She chooses to let her mind linger on the glowing little moments of the night, instead of brooding over the fact that they are about to be hundreds of miles apart in different worlds and different colleges. It’s a silent agreement. This night was purgatory. This night, they will tell themselves, is enough.
|
||
|