A/N: This unbetaed drabble is for lilamadison11, who reminded me I need to take a fun break once in awhile. Hope you don't mind the lack of angst and tears, babe.

Something To Remember

"Veronica, are you serious?"

"Hell, yes."

"You know, when you brought this up I was thinking it would be more something I could do to you."

"Logan," she teased, knowing how much he loved when she talked bawdy – a rare thing. "For the next six weeks all I'm going to have is your voice on the phone, and my own hand between my legs. Give a girl a little visual to work with, huh?"

He bobbed his eyebrows in surprise. "Well, when you put it like that, I'm thinking I need to fly out to Montana at least once."

"No," she said, grabbing his face between her hands when he tried to lower it to her neck. "I've got my criminology workshop, you've got your writer's seminar in London. And then that trip to Cascais with Dick."

"But I could still visit you for a couple of days in between."

His pout was almost enough to win her over, but they'd already settled this. "Most of which you'd spend on a plane or jetlagged. If we can make it all the way through sophomore and junior year together, we can make it the next six weeks apart."

"I know," he breathed, pulling her close so he could lay a kiss on top of her head. "I'm just going to miss you like crazy."

She'd made a point of not becoming dependent on Logan's presence. He'd asked her to live with him, and she'd gotten an apartment with Mac instead. He wanted constant interaction, she made sure they spent a couple days a week apart. And it had been good for both of them. He found writing and other friends to keep him busy, she learned to trust him when he was out of her sight.

But the thought of not seeing him for a month and a half made a lump form in her throat. She pushed him away with a mischievous laugh that was just a little forced. "No getting sappy, Echolls. I want my goodbye present and I want it now."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "And what if I say no, Veruca?"

"Then you don't get yours."

"But I haven't even told you want I want, yet."

"Because you haven't decided. Which is why I get to go first."

He huffed out a breath of annoyance, and took a look around. But the house he'd bought was situated at the top of a hill, the nearest neighbor far below the sightline of the backyard. It was one of the attractions – no opportunity for paparazzi to get pictures of him or his friends.

"Fine, but gear up, brat. When I get my turn, and I will, it's going to be good." With a kiss on her nose, he backed up and jumped in the pool.

Veronica settled herself on the cement edge, her legs dangling in the water above the light in the shallow end. She laughed and ducked when he took off his wet board shorts and threw them at her before hoisting himself on the surfboard.

Logan lay on his back, head at the wide end of the board and feet at the narrow, and used his arms to paddle until he was right in front of her. Bending his knees to settle his calves in the water, he managed to steady the board until the quaking caused by his earlier jump calmed.

In the late afternoon sun, the hairs on his chest and belly shone a deep gold. His skin already had the beginnings of a summer tan, with the area around his pelvis and upper thighs creating a square of paler white.

Holy Hell. Naked Logan on a surfboard. Can I get a calendar of this, please?

A low heat started in her belly and worked itself down. This was going to be so. damn. good.

He squinted up at her, the sun shining in his eyes. Indicating his limp penis, lying at the juncture of his thighs he admitted, "I'm not sure this is actually going to work."

"Shhh," she whispered, "it already is."

His cock twitched, and started to grow a bit. "Okay," he drawled, "maybe you could help a guy out. Lose the bikini top."

"No. You'll get your turn later. Get on with it."

He smirked, one hand moving south while the other went behind his head. A simple stroke and his full potential was reached, causing a shuddery breath to leave her.

I want. The simple thought was a song in her veins.

Another stroke and a pinch to the head brought out a single, translucent drop that he used to spread over the mottled line leading into his slit.

Her tongue danced itself over her lips, the sense memory of that taste so strong she could swear it was real.

"Well, then," Logan said, pulling her eyes up to his just before he closed them.

The next few minutes were quiet as Logan's hand worked in slow, sensuous strokes along his cock, alternating with an occasional squeeze further south, like she knew he enjoyed. At first he seemed to be doing it by rote, the motions following years of ingrained habit, but soon he lost the resigned set to his face. His mouth fell slack and he let out a deep groan that she felt right down to her knees.

Somewhere in the distance a seagull could be heard calling, "Mine. Mine," a thought that echoed through her. His breathing became raspier, more labored, and hers matched it breath for breath.

When his motions would have carried him away, she lifted her feet and hooked them under the board, keeping him in place. The movement was helpful, as it squeezed her thighs together and relieved some of the pressure gathering there.

He was nearing the end, that familiar, small gasp emitting from the back of his throat in rhythm with his hand. Seeing how tightly drawn up his testicles had become, Veronica reached down and cupped her breasts in response. They had grown heavy, and the pressure of her hands sent a surge through her groin.

I need I need I need I need

Her feet slipped, letting go of the board, but instead of drifting away from her some undetectable current brought it closer. Logan didn't seem to notice, with his eyes screwed shut and the pace of his hand quickening as it rose up and down.

Now please now come on baby

His climax rocked through him, making his neck arch and a low cry escape his throat. The laugh that followed did nothing to relieve her, though, especially when he turned that dark-eyed gaze on her.

She was still holding her breasts, and he smirked in knowing response. "Might have to do something about that."

"You better."

He lifted his head and moved the arm that had been behind it to shield his eyes. Pulling his feet back up on the surfboard, he cupped a hand and used the salt water of the pool to clean his torso, not caring where he drifted. "Later. Maybe."

She jumped in the pool and flipped his board, succinctly dunking him. The water fight that followed left them both laughing and breathless, but did nothing to improve her situation. Especially when he bent down and pulled her into a deep kiss. A brief, deep kiss.

Letting her go, he did a backstroke to the deep end and pulled himself out. She got the fun visual of watching him rinse in the outdoor shower, then dry off and stand there, grasping the towel hanging around his neck. "I'm getting hungry. Chinese?"

His tone and smug grin were a tease. He knew what she wanted, and apparently his parting gift was having her beg for it.

Good luck with that, Jackass.

"Actually, why don't we go out? Maybe get the gang together and make a night of it."

He narrowed his eyes at the challenge in her voice. "I thought we were spending our last night alone."

"Doing what?" she asked coquettishly.

"Exchanging presents." He came and squatted by the edge of the water, the view doing nothing except make her think dirty thoughts. "If you get your ass out of the pool you might even get the one I bought you. It's wrapped and everything."

Logan knew how much she hated his spending money on her. Therefore, when he did buy her something, it was usually more meaningful than pricey. She grinned and took the hands he offered, letting him lift her out of the water and wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Where is it?"

"Inside. Rinse and dry off before you come in. The saltwater is hard on the floors." He kissed her forehead and backed up, going into the house.

When she came in he was on the phone, ordering what sounded like half the menu, a ridiculous amount of food for just the two of them. Which meant cold Chinese for breakfast.

Damn, he knows me so well.

He put his hand over the receiver and told her, "Upstairs, dresser. And don't open it without me."

"Good luck with that," she warned, before running upstairs.

The large beach towel hindered her climb a bit. She'd left her bikini hanging outside to dry and wrapped the thing around her, just to now have it get caught between her legs and force her to slow down.

His top drawer contained only some boxers and undershirts, nothing wrapped. She dropped the towel and pulled on one of the white shirts, so thin it was almost translucent.

Present, present, present. Where's my present?

Before she could explore the rest of the dresser, the phone she'd left charging on top of it rang, Logan's home number showing on the display.

"Geez, Echolls. Egg rolls. Always egg rolls."

"That's a random thing to say to your boyfriend. Especially when you haven't even seen him in two weeks."

She stopped just before making a retort. She'd been on the other end of a similar call once, so knew this game.

Much better player this time, though.

"I haven't seen an egg roll in two weeks either. Guess which one I'm missing more."

"Ouch. Someone gets cranky when they're not getting properly fed."

"Yep, it's been all cheese, all of the time. Another month of this and I'm going to need a whole new wardrobe. At least two sizes bigger."

"Mmm," he crooned. "More of you to love. But speaking of wardrobes, what are you wearing?"

Hearing his voice echo, she glanced at the door and caught a glimpse of him just as he pulled it shut. Correction, mostly shut. The two inch gap was just perfect for making her feel like she was alone.

"Oh, just some old t-shirt lying around. The thing is so worn out, it's practically see-through."

"That wouldn't be the t-shirt you stole from me, would it?"

"I prefer permanently borrowed." She fell forward on to the bed, her back facing the door. Her feet scissored in the air and crossed at the ankles.

"Mmm-hmm. What do you have on underneath it?" His voice was deep, and so low she couldn't even hear him from the hallway. Knowing he was watching made her feel deliciously wanton.

"Just a little thing I like to call…me," she teased.

He was silent so long she started to wonder if her phone had dropped the call. Checking her display she could tell she was still connected, and then placed it back at her ear when she heard his voice again.

"—here's the thing. I can see it. I can see you in that damn shirt and nothing else. I can picture how you would look wearing it right after a shower or a swim. Wet in all the right places. The problem is…" his voice trailed off.

"The problem is what, Logan?"

"The problem is I'm five million miles away and can't do anything about it."

"Well, what would you do if you were here?" She flipped over onto her back, making sure her knees were locked together and anything too incendiary hidden behind her legs.

He chuckled. "You want the PG version, or NC-17?"

"What do you think?" she breathed.

"I would lay you down on the bed, put my head between your legs and run my tongue over you until you came against my mouth. Then I'd work my way up, kissing every inch of you until I reached your lips, and you could find out how good you taste."

Whoa, boy.

"Then I'd put my cock inside of you, and ride slowly until you pushed us over to have your turn. I wouldn't let you stop until I touched you and felt the way you tighten around me as you scream my name. After, and only after, I would put you on your knees and fuck you. Hard."

Everything in her body had gone conversely slack and rigid. They'd played around with this a bit, but never on the phone and never this explicit. The surprising thing was how much she liked it.

"Um," she swallowed. "That sounds…good."

"But I'm not there."

"No, you're not." It was silly, given that he was standing in the hallway, but her voice was thick with regret.

"Give a guy a hand? Let him live vicariously?"

Damn, son. Just want to launch right into it, huh? I don't know if I'm ready.

"Sure. But can I call you back? I've got food being delivered."

"Ah. See, a smart person would have left an envelope with money on the front step, and instructions to just drop the takeout and leave."

Ante up, Mars. You can do this. Do you want to do this? She did. Not just have him watch her, but in this clandestine play pretending she was alone.

"A round of applause for smart people then. Actually never mind; I think both our hands are busy. You know, holding phones."

"Hey, Veronica?"

"Yeah?"

"Lose the shirt."

It was spoken like an order, something that would normally irritate her. But instead it made her breath catch in her throat. She dropped the phone and sat up, grabbing the back of the tee and pulling it over her head in one motion. When she picked up the cell again, her look at the door was pointed, brazen, daring him to give her another order.

Wanting one.

"Is it off?"

"Yes."

"Good. Lay back on the bed, and make sure there's not less than twelve inches of room between those knees. And put me on speaker."

She did as instructed, laying the phone by her hip and propping a couple of pillows behind her back so she was slightly elevated. It helped to see that crack in the door, a reminder he was out there.

"Ok, now what?"

"Fingertips only. Run them over your skin. Your arms, breasts, belly, legs. Nowhere else."

She complied, only then realizing how all her nerve endings had risen to the surface. The brush she made to the tender inside of her thighs made her gasp.

"That's it. When you get back to your breasts, circle the tips." And so it went, his voice filling the room and telling her when to trace, when to grasp, and when to tweak. It was understood that she would continue to only touch where he instructed.

Finally, an eon later, he said, "Now take a finger and run it up your pink parts. Are you wet?"

She snorted at the description, but did as he said. When she reached the tender nub of skin, a moan worked it's way out of her throat. "Yes."

"Good. Touch yourself. And let me hear you."

She started slow, conscious she was putting on a show. After a bit, though, that didn't matter anymore. One hand cupped a breast, pressing the nipple between her thumb and forefinger while the other finally worked toward some relief.

The pressure built between her thighs, but it wasn't enough. Not when she knew he was so close to her. "Logan, get in here."

He hmmphed, part humor, part regret. "Too far away. Come on, you know what you need. There's a reason you have two hands."

She glanced toward the door. He wanted this and, if that was the case, she wanted to give it to him. Letting go of her breast, she bypassed the hand that was working at her, and slipped a couple of fingers inside.

"Oh god."

"Good, babe. Just like that. Don't stop."

"Logan…"

Her hands worked in tandem, each fulfilling a separate need that was interdependent. As she got closer his name fell more readily from her lips, and her eyes closed so she could picture him.

Until she felt the bed press down and saw him kneeling in front of her, watching her motions avidly. The towel was gone; he was naked, and hard. "Don't stop," he growled.

"Close, so close," she murmured, her mouth falling open to let her breathless exclamations escape.

"Come on baby, keep going."

The flesh around her fingers tightened, and convulsed. She cried out once, sharply, and then again when he slid his hands under her ass, lifted, and slid into her, seemingly in one motion.

The large, strong fingers moved to grab her thighs, holding her aloft so he could carry through on his earlier promise to fuck her, hard. The hand at her clit she kept moving, his relentless pounding of her tender flesh causing a second wave to build. One she rode until she saw his face tighten and heard a "Fuck, Veronica," fall from his mouth. A final, hard thrust and she let go, crying out with the force of it.

He hung his head, suspended. Finally he released her, placing his hands above the pillows and letting her lower her legs. His forehead lowered to rest on hers, the warm wash of his breath cooling the overheated dampness of her skin.

His kiss was salty, both from his earlier swim and the sweat on his upper lip, and a necessary completion of this act. When he rolled over he took both of them, settling her against his chest. They were quiet for a few moments, both getting their breathing regulated and fingertip tracing designs on each other.

"You know what this means, don't you?"

She thought of all the answers to that, and chose the most imminent one. "You still owe me a present."

"I still owe you a present," he said, his words echoing only a hair's breadth behind hers

A/N: Shout out to dancing driver, who told me the best places to surf in Portugal.

A/N: The image of Logan laying back on his surfboard has to go to nevertothethird and her fic, I Know That Face. Him being naked and jacking off is strictly my perversion of that lovely image, and I'm not sorry.