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Fic: Beyond the Pale part 3/9 (L/V) NC-17
Beyond the Pale (3/9)
By: Madame Librarian
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: sex, language
Characters: Logan, Veronica, L/V
Word Count: 2660
Spoilers: nothing specific past mid-S2 or so, assuming L/V in established relationship.
A/N: Unfortunately, life has gotten in the way, which meant this part was a little long in coming. This part was all me, not sure how much adelli will be contributing to the rest of the story. We did brainstorm it all together, though, so she is here in spirit. :-D
Links to : Part 1 & Part 2

* * *


Logan drummed an erratic beat on the leather cushion of the steering wheel, staring up at the restored Victorian-style home across the street. The narrow roadway was lined with cars; light spilled from the open doorway as several party-goers egressed into the chilly night. Veronica was in the passenger seat, gazing longingly towards the house, which undoubtedly was warm because of a crackling fire and the combined body heat of fifty-some-odd people.

“Are we going to go in, or just sit here?” Veronica asked, after a long silent minute stretched into two, and then three. They'd already had this argument, when she first told him about the party the week before. He didn't want her going by herself, but he didn't necessarily want to attend with her, either. He'd gone out of his way to bribe her—even so far as promising the impossible—a home-made pasta dinner and hours of sex. Logan didn't know how to boil an egg, much less deliver freshly-prepared chicken cannelloni. But despite that, Veronica insisted that he was going to have to learn how to make nice with her friends sooner or later. Just the week before Veronica had exhibited an infinite reserve of patience when she and Logan had gone to the ballpark with Dick and Luke.

Logan took a sip from his hip flask and tucked it back into his pocket. He nodded at her to stay put, and then got out of the car before hurrying around to open Veronica's door for her. She took his hand as they walked swiftly across the rain-dampened street, their breath leaving thin vaporous trails in the night air.

When they pushed their way into the house, Logan gently unclasped his hand from hers and reached for the collar of her jacket. Before he could help her remove it, he was practically bowled out of the way by 230 pounds of brute muscle. Veronica's friend John had bounded down the stairs and was hugging her a little too enthusiastically, considering he'd just seen her that afternoon in their Constitutional Law class. John placed a loud, smacking kiss on her cheek.

“Calypso, glad you could make it,” he beamed, reaching for her coat. He stripped it off, then helped her unwind from her muffler. He tossed them at Logan, barely sparing a glance in his direction. He slung his arm over Veronica's shoulders and drug her towards the dining room. Veronica shot Logan an apologetic smile over her shoulder, and Logan gave her a small, resigned wave. He wasn't sure when this whole private-joke-nickname shit started, but he sure as hell wasn't happy about it.

The party was in full-swing and it was only a quarter after nine. The house had been refurbished beautifully, rich red carpet lined the stairs and hallways, while dark stained wood spanned the length of the larger rooms. A gold brocade wallpaper and mismatched furniture gave the renovated home a shabby chic appeal. Logan took his own coat off and wandered into the small, darkened parlour that was to the left of the foyer. He draped Veronica's coat over her purse, which he nestled into the crook of an armchair, and then tucked his own coat around hers protectively.

He pushed his sleeves up over his wrists as he meandered back into the main room, scoping out the small groups that were gathered around, chatting. Veronica's friends were known for their intellectual clambakes; everything about them screamed pretension. They had none of the opulence of his mother's grand soirees, but plenty of ego to go around. On the antique sideboard, Logan spied the usual smorgasbord: the cheese and fruit tray, the canape buffet, the vintage wine selection.

Logan watched as John presented Veronica with an unopened bottle of her favourite white wine, her answering smile was enchanting. She had only recently become comfortable having alcohol at parties, but never from an open bottle or cup, and never without someone she trusted there to monitor her. The wine was poured into delicate stem-ware and Logan didn't miss the fact that John's beefy hand brushed Veronica's as he pressed the glass into her palm. He gritted his teeth, but said nothing; his girlfriend would not appreciate a scene, no matter how justified.

Several small kegs sat on the rear patio, the TAs in the Political Science department had a friendly competition over who made the best home brew. Logan helped himself to a cup of a raspberry wheat beer and went to find a bare piece of wall to slouch against until Veronica was ready to leave. The staircase was now deserted, so he clambered up about halfway and plopped down, his back to the wall. The second floor of the house was dark, limiting guest traffic onto the top of the stairs where a second bathroom was located. Logan was shrouded in shadows as he watched the festivities below.

His fists clenched and every muscle in his body tightened when he saw John pawing at the small of Veronica's back like he owned her. She carefully extracted herself from his arm's reach, but it wasn't a minute gone by until he was crowding her again, gesticulating animatedly to the group that was gathered around them. Logan reined in his strength and looked away, desperately hanging on to his control.

John Pitcannon was the polar opposite of Logan Echolls. He had grown up on a farm in the midwest, had loving parents, six older brothers and one younger sister. He graduated valedictorian in a class of 54, and was awarded a full scholarship to Hearst when he scored a 1560 on his SATs. He was build like the broad side of a barn, over six feet tall and outweighed Logan by at least sixty pounds. He was handsome enough, Logan supposed, with a ruddy complexion and a ready smile.

From across the room, two of the guys from Veronica's International Law class were staring at him, stopping just short of pointing. His girlfriend was no longer within his line of sight and that worried Logan enough to take one last sip of his beer before hefting to his feet.

He trudged down the stairs and through the dining room, where he dodged several small clusters of people, standing on his toes, searching for that elusive splash of blond hair. He halted in his tracks when he heard his last name, and automatically tucked himself behind the door way that led from the dining room into the kitchen. He caught snatches of the discussion through the ramblings of the revelers surrounding him.

“...she can't possibly have a stimulating conversation with him... He barely graduated high school... the sex must be fantastic... what a loser...”

Logan's entire body was stretched taut, anger that he hadn't felt in almost a year bubbling just under the surface.

“Does he even go to school?”

“She says he's not the college type...”

Logan weaved his way through the door, brushing past Beverly, John's younger sister and the source of the gossip. Her naturally curly hair had been ironed straight for the occasion, but was starting to frizz. She abruptly closed her mouth when he sauntered past, but he nailed her with a hard glare.

When he finally found Veronica, his stomach clenched painfully. She was standing against the far wall of the breakfast nook, her arms crossed over her chest, her wine glass nowhere to be seen. John had one hand on the wall above her head, and he was leaning in closer. Their conversation looked quiet, intimate. Veronica caught sight of Logan just before he turned on his heel to go back the way he'd come in. He was halfway across the living room, headed for the front door when Veronica's hand slipped into his own.

He followed her reluctantly as she pulled him up the grand, sweeping staircase and then hustled him into the bathroom. As soon as the door closed behind her, she was in his arms, crawling up and locking her legs around his waist. He reciprocated instinctively, anchoring her so that she didn't fall, nipping at her lips and her chin hungrily. But even as she became more impassioned, and he turned her around and pressed her back against the door, he couldn't help the cancerous doubt that was blooming within him. Were the backbiting blowhards actually right about something? Was sex really the only thing he and Veronica shared?

“Make me yours,” she demanded, throwing her head back to expose her neck to his ravaging mouth. Logan's fingers fumbled as he worked his hands underneath her skirt urgently, pulling her panties to the side and stroking her slick folds with his smooth fingertips. “Oh yes, fuck, yes,” she murmured under her breath as she arched against him, her entire body shivering with sensation.

Logan sucked at her collarbone as she frantically tried to unzip his pants. She unbuckled his belt and pushed the denim off of his hips before cupping his face and kissing him fiercely. He pulled his cock through the opening of his boxers and nudged the lips of her pussy apart as he sucked on her tongue.

She groaned when, with one powerful thrust of his hips, he was completely buried in her quivering flesh, his cock throbbing with the beat of his heart. He withdrew slowly, pinching her nipples through the starched cotton of her demure button-down and the lace of her brassiere. He paused to gaze at her lovely face, bathed in moonlight in the dark bathroom.

Almost as if she could hear his doubt, Veronica opened her eyes and reached for his hand, entwining their fingers. Words, whispered softly, but distinctly, and for his ears alone, at once affirmed his faith in her, and made the wholly tortuous evening worthwhile.

“You're the one I trust, Logan,” Veronica whispered, her voice as silky as a dream. “You're the one I need.”

Her head fell back again and she groaned lustily as Logan started ramming his cock into her in short, sharp strokes. They were both primed for an explosion, and when Logan began frantically humping her against the ancient door, a startled cry was torn from her throat. She writhed against him in a frenzy as she climaxed, desperate to prolong the sensation as long as possible. With a few final thrusts, Logan came with a cracked sob of pleasure, muffled against the tender skin of her throat. He continued to pump his hips even after his release, lost in the rhythm. Veronica threaded her fingers through his hair, her nails brushing against his scalp tantalizingly.

She was gazing at him adoringly, but his heart was still aching, and he couldn't bear to look. Logan gently set her on her feet, cleaning himself off before tugging his pants up and zipping the fly. Veronica adjusted her underwear as Logan slumped to the tiled floor, his back against the cabinets. Veronica lowered herself into his lap and entwined their fingers.

“They're wrong about you, Logan,” she whispered, and he stared back at her dazedly. “Just because college isn't your thing doesn't mean you're not smart. Fuck them.” She nuzzled the crook of his neck with her nose, kissing his earlobe and suckling into her mouth.

And in that moment, Logan realized why she'd pounced on him here, of all places. Giving him back his power, his esteem as her lover, here, right under their noses. He held her closer.

“I hate the way he looks at you,” Logan muttered, and she laughed.

“Now you know how my dad feels,” she joked.

His only response was a woefully grave expression.

“He means nothing to me,” Veronica assured, wrapping her fingers around the back of his neck. “You know you're the only one that matters to me, right?”

Logan averted his eyes, staring at the mildewed edge of the shower curtain that hung limply across the bathtub. “You've never said it,” he pointed out, trying his hardest not to sound like a petulant child.

“Oh, Logan,” Veronica breathed, as if suddenly aware that the months of silence had taken their toll on him. His eyes flickered to her face, which was alight with comprehension. She buried her face against his shoulder. “I love you.”

He tightened his arms around her immediately, a choked moan erupting as he held her tight. “You deserve someone better than me.”

“And you deserve a swift kick to the head. But life isn't fair, Logan,” Veronica answered solemnly. “And we don't always get what we deserve.”

“Be serious,” he chuffed.

“I am,” she tilted his chin up until their eyes met and locked. She smiled beatifically. “Besides, I don't need a smart boyfriend...I've got a bad boyfriend.” And then she winked.

Logan huffed out a laugh, ducking his head again.

“If you were smart, I couldn't keep you barefoot an' pregnant and in the kitchen, chained to the stove,” she explained, grinning. Logan squeezed her hard and gazed into her eyes, seeing a depth of emotion that made him breathless. He was the romantic and she was the realist, but in that moment when their roles had been reversed, he'd been devastated. How could someone as brilliant as Veronica ever love a dumb chump like him?

“I'm tired, Logan,” Veronica confessed, her head dropping to his chest. “Take me home?”

She stood up, pulling Logan to his feet, and he gathered her under his arm, kissing the top of her head. Together, they slowly made their way downstairs and slipped into the parlour. Silently, Logan helped Veronica into her coat and gently wrapped her scarf around her neck. He shrugged into his own jacket and his hand fell to the small of her back as they headed for the front door.

Logan ducked his head to speak to her quietly. “Do you want to tell your friends 'goodbye'?”

Veronica shook her head and smiled softly. “I'll see them Monday.”

As they reached the foyer, John spotted them from across the room and made a beeline straight for them.

“Incoming,” Logan murmured, his posture stiffening.

“Leaving so soon?” John boomed, unable to hide his disappointment at the prospect.

Veronica wrapped her arm around Logan's lower back. “Yes, we're going home to spend the weekend with my dad. Logan and I are moving in together.”

Logan snapped to attention. He had been begging Veronica for weeks to move in with him, but she had always playfully skirted the issue, insisting it was too soon.

“...we have to deliver the heartbreaking news to him in person,” Veronica continued, her smile incandescent. “He barely survived when I told him I wanted to disengage the chastity belt.”

John's face had fallen dramatically. He stepped forward to claim a goodbye hug, but Veronica reached for his hand and squeezed it instead. “I'll see you Monday!”

“Bye,” he answered, disheartened.

Logan guided her out onto the porch, closing the door behind them. He swept her into his arms and kissed her passionately, his fingers tangling into her hair.

“I love you, baby,” he murmured a moment later, laying sweet kisses across the apples of her cheeks.

“Home?” she asked breathlessly, and he nodded eagerly.

Taking her hand, they stepped off the porch into the sweet clear midnight.

finis