They staggered inside Logan's suite, the door whispering shut behind them on expensive hotel hinges, and Logan nagivated them expertly around the coffee table to the couch without breaking the kiss. Veronica felt like she'd just been granted a reprieve. The aching grey quality of these last days and weeks had vanished, and suddenly life was technicolor again.
And Logan was on top of her, and she could run her hands over his shoulderblades, could trace the small of his back, could feel him pressing against her, hard already. Oh, God, she'd missed this.
"Hey, you gotta turn on the tv, they're doing a Jackass marathon and—oh," said Dick Casablancas from the edge of the room. "There's a chick here. Niiiice." His voice was approving; earnest, and slightly stoned, as usual.
"I'm glad you finally took my advice and got back in the game," Dick continued. Logan twitched, like he was stifling a retort. "Veronica wasn't good for you, man, and neither was moping around here by yourself—so whoever that is, under there, I toast you!" There was a faint sloshing sound: apparently Dick raising his beer and then swigging from it.
Logan was laughing into her mouth, which made her laugh too. He pulled back just enough to turn his head and smirk at Dick, and Veronica—giddy with what felt like joy—reached around and gave Dick a coy little wave.
"Dick, you've met my girlfriend," Logan said, his voice acid, and Dick actually jumped.
"Oh. Shit." The look of horror on his face was priceless, although he recovered quickly. "Hey, Ronnie. Didn't expect to see you here."
"Fuck off," Logan said, and returned to the important work of sucking at Veronica's neck. Which made her squirm. Which only made him do it more. It was a kind of vicious cycle, if vicious cycles were really good things instead of bad ones.
"Get a room." Dick sounded petulant. Veronica wondered, not for the first time, whether Dick had any idea he had a crush on Logan. Not that she could blame him, exactly; she was just really glad Logan had apparently never noticed it. At least, she hoped he hadn't.
"Unless you've really changed things in the last six weeks, there's a bed in your room," she pointed out, pitching her voice for Logan's ears. "I always liked that bed."
"Mmm. Good point." Just like that, Logan was off of her, standing beside the couch and offering a hand, as genteel as any butler except for the wicked spark in his eye. "Madame?"
"Don't mind if I do," she said, taking his hand and licking a wet stripe across his palm.
"Minx," he said, and tugged her forward. Behind them, Dick's grumbling receded into inaudibility when Logan closed the door.
Veronica had all kinds of plans—murmuring "now, where were we?" in her best seductive tone; taking her clothes off piece by piece, teasing Logan with a slow reveal—but when she saw the open longing in Logan's eyes her clever ideas fled. All she could think about was how desperately she wanted him inside her.
By the time he was halfway naked she was lying on her back on his bed—the hotel staff had turned it down; she kicked the comforter to the foot of the bed, pushing herself up on the pile of king-sized pillows—with her knees propped slightly up, and her cunt positively aching.
"Jesus, Veronica," Logan breathed, and shimmied out of his jeans so fast she was vaguely surprised he didn't strain something.
He paused to rummage in his bedside drawer, and sat on the edge of the bed to roll the condom on. She closed her eyes and listened to his breathing and the frantic movements of his hands. And when she opened them again Logan was kneeling over her, one hand bracing his body over hers, the other guiding his cock to nudge her gently. The feel of him made her want to beg.
"Okay?" he asked.
"Are you kidding me?"
Logan, fortunately, took that as the rhetorical question it was meant to be, and with one long slow thrust he slid home.
God. Veronica was melting, her body consumed by desire. Nothing she did with her own hands could hold a candle to this. Logan pulled back and then slid in again, setting a rhythm that was maddeningly slow.
And so good. Their bodies fit. This was perfection. Was it normal, wondered some distant part of Veronica's brain, to be this infatuated with your first lover? Sex with Duncan had been good, but it had never been like this. Like they could never get enough. Like they wanted to climb inside each others' skin.
Logan twisted his hips a little, driving in to her at a new angle. She gasped and clenched around him, involuntarily. That turned out to be a very good thing; his broken groan set her even more aflame.
Flame, hell; they went up like the Echolls mansion drenched in gasoline. Every rub and thrust ratcheted her pleasure higher, and the feeling of Logan spending inside her made them both cry out, blissed-out and quivering, riding the waves.
Regretfully after a long moment he pulled back, and she heard him toss the condom toward the trash. She curled up on one side, and Logan wrapped himself around her, tugging the comforter over them.
Veronica's body thrummed, and for once she made herself ignore the voice of reason in the back of her mind. She knew getting back together with Logan wasn't necessarily the best idea. All of the fears and misunderstandings that had driven them apart were still there, and some part of her hadn't entirely forgiven him for being able to walk away.
She could manage on her own. She just wasn't sure she wanted to. And right now, as Logan dropped tiny kisses on the back of her neck, there wasn't anything in the world she wanted more than this.
(1000 words)
The End