chichuri_fic (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
chichuri_fic) wrote2007-01-28 08:38 pm
chichuri_fic) wrote2007-01-28 08:38 pm
Entry tags:
Fic: Snowbound (Logan/Veronica) NC-17 (2/2)
Title: Snowbound (2/2)
Fandom: Veronica Mars
Fandom: Veronica Mars
Author: chichuri
Pairing/Character: Logan, Veronica, Lilly, Duncan, Logan/Veronica
Word Count: 11,109 overall, 4870 this part
Rating: NC-17
Summary: AU. During a trip to Colorado on winter break from college, will Logan and Veronica finally realize their mutual attraction?
Warnings: Sex, strong adult language
Spoilers: AU, but there are Season 1 spoilers
Disclaimer: Veronica Mars is not mine.
Author's Note 1: Written for the loveathons "Snowed In" challenge and the vm_library "Losin' It" challenge. Missed the deadline for the former, barely made the deadline for the latter.
loveathons "Snowed In" challenge and the vm_library "Losin' It" challenge. Missed the deadline for the former, barely made the deadline for the latter.Author's Note 2: This is my first ever attempt at smut. The whole thing is different than anything else I've tried writing, so any concrit would be greatly appreciated. Love and thanks to vagajammer for the handholding.
Part 1
vagajammer for the handholding.Part 1
Snowbound
Dark trees stretched bare branches towards a dull grey sky, reaching for a sun hidden behind a shroud of clouds. The snow, so white and pristine the day before, was dingy in the absence of the sun and had been defiled by the tracks of countless animals, both human and otherwise. Logan had left one such trail on his early morning trek--he refused to call it flight--from the house.
He perched on the large rock that had been his outpost since dawn, staring moodily into the creek he had barely stopped himself from tumbling into and trying to untangle the snarl of what the hell was going on in his head. He had kissed Veronica. He should be over the fucking moon, dancing with joy, and every fucking other cliché that was created to celebrate a moment like this. He'd known for over a year he was sliding out of friendship and into something deeper, and he had just gotten the first sign that she felt the same.
Sign? Fuck, that kiss had been a revelation.
And maybe that was the problem.
Quickly, passionately, irrevocably, he had fallen in love with Veronica Mars. But it was one thing to long for her and fantasize about them being together when there wasn't a chance in hell of it actually happening, and another to actually make a move, to try to bring his dream into reality. She was fifth in their class at Neptune High, at Stanford on a full ride, brilliant, funny, honest, warm, giving. He . . . he was none of those things. The poor little rich boy, off to spend his father's millions and dishonor his name. What the fuck did he have to offer her? Tragedy and heartbreak.
He was his father's son, and his father's legacy was one of destruction and pain.
That basic decency he so admired in Veronica? Sooner or later he and his world would drag her down and tarnish her, leaving her a shell of the woman she should have been, filled only with misery and regrets. It would kill him to know he had been the one to hurt her when all he wanted to do, all he had ever wanted to do, was protect her. Giving in to this insane desire that consumed him was decidedly not protecting her, but opening her up and leaving her exposed to the demons that would claw out her heart and steal her soul.
Fuck what he wanted. For once in his life he would be the grownup, do what was right, and let her go. He had to stop whatever lay between them before it really started; the memory of that searing kiss alone nearly rendered him powerless to step away. More than that taste, and he would merrily damn them both to hell, and dance the entire trip down. He had to cut her loose now, or he might never be able to.
Fuck, if she knew what lay in store for her, she'd be running as far and as fast as she could; he'd be doing her a favor by chasing her away. Possibly losing her as a friend was better than being the cause of her destruction, it had to be.
He longed for some physical target of his turmoil, something to pound until the ache in his arms and the burn of his knuckles settled everything into numb calm. He fucking hated this whiny emo crap that muddled his brain. If this was what maturity tasted like, after the long swallow burned through his gut and ate him hollow, he'd never take another drink.
All he had to do was let her go, then keep her away. A simple little thing, right? In his eighteen years, he'd become adept at keeping others at arms length; he could score Olympic gold in the event. Of course, it wasn't that easy. It could never be that easy. This was Veronica, stubborn little hellcat who had never met a question she didn't want answered.
And, as if on cue, there she was to tempt and torture him.
Soundless she might be on solid ground, but in the woods Veronica was out of her element. The crunching and swishing of her trudge through the snow warned that his attempts to find peace were about to be shattered, giving him plenty of time to steel himself against what he knew had to do.
"Hey."
Her voice was soft, just a little hesitant, and entirely too welcome. There was no fucking way a single word should have that much power. He forced disinterest into his own, refusing to turn to her. "Hey."
"You missed the Dr. Who season finale last night."
"And that is why the gods created TiVo."
"I wondered where you were."
He answered her gentle concern with flat rebuff. "Alone, like I wanted to be."
"You took off before breakfast."
"Yeah, and there was a reason. That alone thing I mentioned? You do remember, right? It was like, two seconds ago."
Undeterred by his harshness, she pressed on. "Are we going to talk about it?"
Anger started to kick deep in his gut. For once could she just let something go? He was doing this for her; why couldn't she see that and make it easier on him? Why should he be the only one to make the sacrifice? "What is there to talk about?"
"So the kiss last night? Nothing but an aberration?" A trace of impatience and more than a trace of sarcasm laced her tone.
"It was a kiss. Nothing more. A momentary flight of fancy, never to be bothered with again." Nothing more, because he would never let it be more, and a flight of fancy that would haunt him for the rest of his life; telling her that part would be counterproductive to his self-imposed mission.
"Really."
He finally pushed to his feet and turned, glaring at her. "What the fuck do you want me to say?"
"Something resembling the truth might be nice."
He deliberately used his much greater height to loom over her. Fuck it. He'd tried to do this as gently as he could, but she had to push the issue. All the frustration and growing anger he'd been trying to keep capped boiled over and poured into his calculatedly cruel words. "The truth? Fine. You're not worth the time and effort it would take to break you in. Sorry to get your hopes up."
He didn't get the reaction he expected, hoped for, and feared. She just stared at him, her head tilted and her eyes thoughtful, not running, not upset, not even surprised or particularly impressed. When she finally spoke, it was with the same reasonable intonation she would use with a particularly stupid six year old. "Logan, when you're deliberately setting out to drive someone away, it helps if they haven't, like, known you for six years and seen you pull bullshit like this before. Get over yourself."
"Fuck." Bitter laughter caught in his throat at his subconscious sabotage. He rolled his shoulders and ran a hand through his hair. Of course she knew him well enough to recognize and call him on the crap he was spewing, just as she was stubborn enough not to give up and walk away. He loved these things about her, even if right now they were driving him insane.
"Talk, Logan," she ordered. "You never run from anything, yet you bolted out of my room last night like the hounds of hell had just put you on their meal plan. Just . . . was it something I did?" He watched her iron will waver, her insecurities suddenly rearing their head and twisting around her. It hurt to watch her fight for emotional control.
"It's not you." Despite all his resolutions to drive her away, he had to give her that much. He wanted to touch her, to reassure her, and twisted his hands into the sleeves of his coat to keep himself from reaching out.
"Then what?" she asked. "I want you. Do you have a problem with it?"
The part of him that hungered for her clawed against the morally responsible adult he was attempting to be. "Getting what you want would only get you hurt," he ground out.
"Stop trying to wrap me in cotton and protect me!" She shoved him in the chest in sudden fury, fingers curling into his coat like she wanted to tear through to his heart underneath. "Damn it, Logan, you know better! You've been treating me like an equal for years. You and Lilly are the only two people who don't give a fuck what I should or shouldn't be, but accept me for who I am, and that's what I want."
"Then go fuck Lilly."
Her eyes narrowed. "She tried, but I don't swing that way. I'd rather fuck you."
Lust flared through him and he dug fingernails into his palms to distract himself from the scenes that played through his head. He had to end this soon, or he wouldn't end it at all. "What makes you think I'd want to? You're a bright girl. Get a fucking clue and go away."
"Back to this line again? I'm not going anywhere until you give me a straight answer."
"What is it going to take, Veronica?" he said desperately. "I. Don't. Want. You." Even as he said the words, he knew his voice and body language screamed the opposite.
As bright and perceptive as always, she understood the subtext as clearly as he. "The whole looking at me like you could eat me alive? It really sells your disinterest."
"I'm not a nice person," he warned, his willpower eroding.
"Yeah, I got that," she said with equal parts humor and bite. "The verbally abusive dickhead thing is a great indicator."
He flinched as the barb cut deeper than she probably intended. "You don't know who I am," he said in a final effort to warn her off. "Not really."
"Six years, Logan? Give me some fucking credit. You think it's possible I've known you for that long and not had a fucking clue who you were before I fell for you?"
The 'fell for you', an open admission that this thing between them spanned more than the physical, punched through the last of his resistance. He closed his eyes and sucked in a lungful of cold air. Fuck attempts at nobility and the fear of a destruction that might never happen. It was time to throw caution to the winds and live for the now.
"What I feel for you . . . it's bigger than high school friends having a college fling, parting ways when lives change," he said with a level of calm intensity unusual even to him. "I may not be able to let you go."
"Who said I'd want you to?"
He nodded and opened his eyes. She stood six feet away, arms wrapped around herself, expression combative as she braced to return whatever he threw at her. Now, finally, he could allow himself to unreservedly appreciate the soft curves almost disguised by the bulky grey coat, the adorable tilt of her head and glint in her eye that betrayed her busy mind working out her next plan of attack, the curve of her lip in a wide smile she couldn't quite suppress. "You're mine," he murmured. "I don't share, and I'm not particularly nice about it."
"I always thought a jealous streak was kinda hot."
This last was the hardest thing he'd ever said, bringing out into the light things he'd conditioned himself to shove into the darkest corner of his soul, but he owed her this much of a warning. "My family . . . has a history of abuse. Physical and emotional."
"Logan-"
He ignored her interruption and continued on. "That puts me at a high risk for continuing the cycle. If I ever," he focused on the depths of the forest, not able to look at her and say these words, consider these possibilities, "if I ever cross that line. You leave. No matter what lies between us."
"You'd never hurt me."
His heart clenched at her unwavering faith, but it wasn't enough. "Promise me, Veronica. I need to know-"
"I'll kick your ass," she said impatiently. "Then I'll shove counseling down your throat, whether you like it or not. I won't stand by and let you hurt me, but I won't let you go through it alone. I won't abandon you just because you get on some nobility kick and think I should leave for my own good."
The tightness in his chest and stinging in his eyes felt like love and hope and happiness.
"Is the question and answer period done? 'Cause I'm telling you-"
He silenced her with his mouth, cupping his hands around her face as he explored her with lips, tongue, teeth. Her arms locked around his waist, hands restlessly stroking up and down his back. His world narrowed to her and him and the overwhelming wildfire that flared between them. He ran his hands along her shoulders, down her arms, pulling her as close as he could. Desperate to get beneath the bulky layers and touch skin, he slipped his hands under her coat and reached up to find her back.
She gasped, laughing against his mouth. "Cold! Logan, your hands are cold."
"They'll warm up soon enough," he breathed, trailing fingers along her spine. Her own hands dipped, found his ass, and then traveled upwards, pressing icy paths into the small of his back. He jerked and shuddered, caught between the bliss of her hands on bare skin and the burn of her cold fingers.
"Enough?" Her eyes sparkled with mischief.
"Point taken." He grinned down at her, pulling her hands out from under her coat and pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.
"Dinner, my room?"
He took her both her hands, walking backwards and pulling her back towards the house. "I think I can be convinced."
* * *
The transition should be harder somehow. There should be some period of adjustment, of reminding herself that she didn't need to hesitate before touching him, that she didn't need to hide her appreciation for his lean form, that she didn't need to stop herself before darting in and dropping a kiss on his mouth. Going from close friend she was hopelessly falling for to boyfriend she adored should be weird or awkward or something other than the most natural, normal thing in the world.
"What?" he asked, glancing at her from across the bed where he lay munching on the last of the chips. "You have that crinkle between your eyes that says you're thinking deep, serious thoughts, and that smile that says they're all about me."
"Aren't you surprised this," she waved between Logan and herself, "is so . . . simple? That going from friends to a relationship isn't more of struggle?"
He smirked. "I can struggle if you want. Y'know, if it makes things easier for you."
She smirked back, and said dryly, "You already did, after I tracked you down to where you were emo moping."
He stiffened, rising to his knees. "Hey! I wasn't moping. I was-"
"Trying to be all sacrificial and protect me from yourself?"
"Bite me." Then, more seriously, "It's not gonna be all puppy dogs and roses, Veronica. Eventually I'll do something fucked up, you'll be unhappy, tears and violence could ensue."
"If I wanted puppy dogs and roses, I'd find someone like Duncan." She considered the fallout of that relationship, and added, "Except without the whole almost-incest angle, of course. That kinda leaves the puppies bleeding and lifeless."
The way he buried his hands in his sleeves betrayed his concern, so she crawled to him and ran a hand through the soft brown spikiness of his hair. "I know what I'm getting into, Logan," she said softly. "I didn't fall in love with you because this thing between us was going to be smooth and painless. I fell because you were you, issues and angst and all."
He pulled her closer, one hand between her shoulders and the other on the back of her head as he angled in for a kiss. The world dropped away, her entire existence defined by the play of his lips against hers. An eternity later and yet not nearly long enough, he drew away and leaned his forehead against hers. "This is why it's simple, being able to kiss you. I've wanted to do this to you for a year. It was stopping myself that was so fucking difficult."
"A year?"
He nodded. "Right before Christmas last year, when you were standing under the mistletoe at the annual Echolls Christmas extravaganza. I realized I wanted to kick the crap out of the guy that got to you first."
"Eight months." She brushed fingers down the strong line of his jaw and the soft skin at the side of his neck, reveling in the fact that she could touch him now without fear of giving herself away. "When I realized we were graduating and going different directions, and if you fled Neptune for good like you always vowed I might never see you again."
"Why didn't you say something?"
"Why didn't you?"
He laughed and kissed her on the nose. "For the same reason you didn't?"
She nuzzled into his collarbone and imprinted his scent on her soul, cedar and cinnamon overlaying something wild and musky and male. "We're both idiots," she said, her voice muffled. "All the time we wasted, when we could have been doing things like this."
"Mmmh," he murmured in agreement, running hands down her sides and around her hips. "Not that any time with you was wasted, mind you. Just that we never had the opportunity to also explore any of the other, pleasurable pursuits we can now."
"Then lets not waste any more of it." She raised her head and sat up until she could look him in the eye. She wondered if she was supposed be scared or worried about the step she was about to take. She wasn't. All she felt was love and lust and an immense trust that he would do this right. "Show me. Show me everything."
His hands stilled. "I want you for more than just sex."
"Don't be more of an idiot than you've already been, Logan. I wouldn't want you so much if you did." Her heart thumped hard as she watched his battle between lust and control play out in his eyes. "But I've had you as a friend all this time and ached for more; I want to finally find out what it's like having you as a lover."
The words charged the air between them. His nod, when at last he gave it, was carefully controlled. "I want that, too."
She found the bottom edge of his soft green sweater and dragged it up and over his head, then drew back so she could appreciate the exposed skin. She relished the thought that every toned, tanned inch was now hers.
"Like what you see?"
"You've been working out." She glided her hands over his well developed chest and down to his similarly defined abdomen, enjoying his intake of breath and involuntary shudders. "You weren't nearly this cut last summer."
"I had to do something to ease the frustration." He exhaled suddenly as she explored lower, barely ducking under the waistband of his jeans. "I couldn't have you, and I didn't want anybody else."
Fascinated by his reactions, she traced the soft denim over his thigh, then edged closer to the rapidly expanding budge.
"Fuck," he bit out, and grabbed her wrist. "If you do that I won't last long. Let me . . . I want to give this to you."
As soon as she gave her assent he took her lips, hands rubbing abstract patterns that tingled on her skin. He slowly worked his way from her waist to her shoulders, dragging her sweater up to expose bare flesh. He broke away long enough to pull the sweater over her head and toss it to the side. When he laid her back on the bed, his mouth trailing wet kisses and nips along her throat and under her chin, her eyes all but rolled back as the tingles gave way to burn. Quickly, expertly, he managed to divest her of her bra, then sat back to stare at her.
He smiled softly at her questioning look. "I never expected to see this. I just wanted to memorize how gorgeous you look right now." Before she could respond he dove back down and took a nipple into his mouth, and all coherent words, all coherent thought, disappeared.
She dimly noticed the unbuttoning of her jeans, the denim pushed down over her hips, and she gasped as a new heat streaked through her when his fingers dipped beneath her underwear and brushed her clit. His fingers danced lower, finding her opening, and her hips thrust involuntarily as he worked a single finger in. He growled, deep and low, and she felt her jeans and underwear being dragged the rest of the way off.
She couldn't think and could barely breathe with the movement of his fingers against her, pushing in and circling around, driving her forward to combustion. Her hands clutched convulsively at the comforter beneath, scrabbling for purchase, fighting for solid ground as she started to fall apart. Her world dropped out from under her as she shattered into sensation.
When she came back to herself he was soothing the last tremors from her body, dropping kisses along her abdomen and chest as he worked his way up to her head.
"Hi," he murmured, his expression exultant. He brushed the hair from her face, spreading it back on the bed.
"Hi," she sighed, smiling, and lifted her head to kiss him. She gathered him closer, enjoying the feel of his skin sliding over hers and the play of the muscles of his back under her hands. She ran her fingers lower, encountering the waistband of his jeans. "You're wearing too many clothes."
He quickly shucked his jeans and underwear, trailing kisses along her jaw all the while. "Are you sure?" he whispered against her throat, mouth and tongue tracing paths of fire against her skin.
She laughed, wondering how, after the orgasm he had drawn from her, he could still ask, and loving him more for doing so. "Haven't we waited long enough?"
"Beautiful and impatient are such a hot combination." She closed her eyes as he stroked downwards again, finding the sensitive bundle of nerves with the pads of his fingers. The tearing of foil was nearly lost as the banked flames roared to life and consumed her. She could feel him against her, his cock nudging her folds, following the path of his fingers not long before. Pushing in, waiting, then a thrust. A sharp pain penetrated the burn of pleasure, but not as much as she expected, not with the ecstasy of his fingers circling her clit and the satisfaction of feeling him cradled inside her where he belonged.
He gave her a long moment to adjust to the feel of him between her thighs, then withdrew with aching slowness, sending sparks across a whole new set of nerves. By the time he surged forward once again, she had wrapped her arms around his shoulders, desperate to drag him back into her. She moaned as her hips met his, his cock hitting a place deep within that sent spikes of lightning through her system.
He started moving and she matched his rhythm, whimpering against his mouth every time he slid home. Never still, his hands stroked and soothed every inch of her skin, tracing patterns of love and possession. He murmured endearments and encouragements against into her lips, words of love and lust and wonder that inflamed her as much as the friction of his body against hers. Her control snapped and her body arched and exploded, convulsing against his final ragged thrusts.
As soon as she regained sense and mobility she wrapped herself around him, savoring the weight and heat of his body languid against her own and idly kneading the muscles in his shoulders, perfectly content to stay right there for the rest of her life.
He laughed, a rumble that shivered against her. "You," he whispered, pressing a kiss against her collarbone, "are amazing."
"I am, aren't I?" She grinned up at him, happier than she could ever remember being. "You're pretty damned amazing yourself. And you did do all the work."
"This time." He dipped his head to kiss her lips, then rolled to his side, pulling her against him. "Next time I'll let you do whatever you want to me."
She stretched like a cat, muscles popping against new and interesting aches, then curled into his chest, her hands playing over his abdomen. All hers. Finally. "Good. I'll hold you to that."
* * *
The clock had long since passed midnight and Christmas Eve had come. Logan hadn't stopped smiling in the hours he had been holding Veronica. She was the most precious, beautiful, wonderful creature he had ever met and she was here, asleep in his arms. If this was some sort of dream, he never wanted to wake up. He knew he should sleep, but just in case this was somehow a mirage, he wanted to be able to remember this day for as long as he lived.
Veronica was his. He pushed the concept around in his mind, savoring the reality of it.
It wouldn't be easy. She was at Stanford and he was over 300 miles away at UCLA, but that obstacle could be overcome with phones, emails, cars and planes. They were such different people, from such different backgrounds, but years of friendship had given them a common ground to work from. And if having her lost him friendships he'd valued for years? Well, the small blonde snuggled trustingly in his arms was more important than anyone else could ever be.
Despite all his fears, maybe they could make it. Making it was the only possible outcome left to him. It would take an act of god to drag him away from her now, and even then he would fight to keep her.
The door banged open and Lilly swung into the room. "Hey, Veronica, get up! You'll never guess--oh." She stopped and leaned against the door, studying the bed with amusement.
"Get the fuck out, Lilly," he growled, pissed that she was interrupting Veronica's slumber and intruding on what had been a perfect moment.
Veronica stirred, opening sleepy eyes. "Lilly?" she asked groggily. "What is it?"
"My, my, Veronica Mars. Whatever have you been up to?"
Veronica returned Lilly's smirk with a glare, securing the comforter against her chest. "Claiming what's mine. Now why the hell did you wake us up?"
Grinning with delight at her blatant declaration, Logan pulled the comforter to cover both of them and wrapped his arms around her stomach, resting his chin on her shoulder. She intertwined her hands with his and leaned back against him.
Lilly just raised an eyebrow. "Well I was coming to tell you they've finally gotten around to digging out the roads, and Dad's sending the corporate jet to carry us home in time for Christmas. We've got, like, two hours before the limo gets here. If I'd had any idea what I'd find, I'd have woken you up just to see the two of you all snuggled together."
"Great, Lilly," Veronica said. "Message given and understood. Now go. Away. And close the door behind you."
"Oh, I can tell when I'm not wanted." Lilly sashayed through into the hall, saying over her shoulder, "Congrats, you two. It's about time you guys saw what was right in front of you." The door shut on Lilly's laughter.
"Claimed?" he questioned once he was sure Lilly was out of earshot. "I really have to introduce you to the art of the hickey."
"I thought the claw marks I left on your shoulders were good enough for the moment." She sighed and lay her cheek against his. "I wish we could stay here forever."
"Three days ago you couldn't wait to get home for Christmas."
She turned to face him, smiling as she rubbed at the stubble on his chin. "Three days ago I was trying to keep from throwing myself at you, and was terrified by the close proximity."
"Now you can throw yourself at me anytime you want." He grinned lecherously and fell backwards onto the bed, dragging her on top of him.
She sat straddling his hips, grinning wickedly. "And I intend to."
Staring up at her, he realized something he had never expected to discover: Veronica passionate and in love with him was even more gorgeous than Veronica pissed off. As she lowered herself into his arms, he prepared to enjoy the best Christmas he'd ever had.
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