TITLE: Anniversary (1/1)
CHARACTERS: Veronica/Logan
WORD COUNT:
SUMMARY: Lost in the dark, duh. Oh and yeah, just like in my other one-shot, there's a tree. What is it with trees? Ah...wood. Especially Logan's wood.
SPOILERS: Actually, nothing, for once. Safe for newbies.
WARNINGS: Cursing, graphic sex, and politics
DISCLAIMER: I don't own any rights to Veronica Mars. This story is written as a tribute only. Somewhat inspired by recent events in New York State, although not actually referring to any politician's particular proclivities.

NOT BETA-ED; read at your own risk.

Veronica peers intently at the screen of her iPhone. The blinking dot in the center of the screen appears to move slowly toward the bottom of the screen, then suddenly veers up.

"Where the hell are we, anyways?" Logan complains. They've been driving for an hour after leaving San Diego. It's close to midnight; they had to wait several hours before their target departed. Once again, he's succumbed to Veronica's wishes, and they're following a supposedly cheating spouse instead of enjoying the nighttime activities that Logan favors.

Veronica switches to the street overlay and announces, "Take this exit...route 79, toward Descanso."

"I can't believe you'd cancel our anniversary for a case," he continues.

"Two month anniversary. Come on, you are such a girl," she replies. "And the husband said he'd pay double if we could get the money shot before the weekend...their ten-year anniversary...you know, 'Dine and Ditch'."

"Right. Do you think we have a shot at ten years?"

Veronica just stares at the screen in response. "Okay, slow down; we're getting too close."

Logan shoots a glance her way. He's been hinting for a while now about his desire to get married, but Veronica always finds a way to change the topic. Finally, one day, in frustration, she yelled at him, "I'm living with you, Logan! I can't do more than that. Not yet." He stared at her in surprise. Nervously, she said quietly, "I just...I don't want to be like my mother. I don't want to wake up one day and feel like I have to run away." He knows that he needs to stop pressuring her, but he keeps finding himself thinking about it–thinking about ways to convince her. Logan keeps driving as Veronica frowns at the display on her phone.

"Logan...it's stopped moving. Look for a driveway ahead. On the left," she instructs him.

He slows down; they see a concealed driveway, blocked by a tall fence and an iron gate. "Drive past," she says. About a hundred feet beyond the entrance, they see a parking area for hikers accessing the trails in the adjacent Cuyamaca Rancho State park. Veronica motions that he should park there.

"Now what?" he asks.

She rummages in the back seat and comes up with a dark-colored baseball cap. Veronica puts it on and tucks her hair underneath.

"Aren't you going to put lampblack under your eyes?" he teases.

She sticks out her tongue at him. "Wait here. By the time I hike in, they ought to be doing it. I can get the money shot, and we can get out of here." She slings her camera around her neck and attaches the telephoto lens. Veronica finds a flashlight in the glove compartment and puts it in the pocket of her jacket. She exits the car, closing the car door silently. She walks stealthily into the woods, heading for the lights of the large house barely visible through the trees.

Logan leans back, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, and thinks about the tale she told him that afternoon.

"Melissa Ward, née Melissa Gedney. 35, second wife of Edgar Ward, sole heir to the Ward family fortune. Yesterday, Mr. Ward intercepted a text message meant for his wife; the message said 'tomorrow night, the usual place.' Melissa signed a pre-nup; but on their ten year anniversary, the pre-nup becomes invalid, and she gets half his assets if she divorces him. That's in three days. I followed Melissa to the gym, picked her combination lock, and planted a tracker in her cell phone. Mr. Ward hired Mars Investigations at double our usual rates for the rush job, Logan. We can celebrate our anniversary one day late. With the money Edgar's paying us, I can pay for that plasma screen TV you want."

Logan sighs. Since they moved in together, Veronica has insisted on paying half of all their expenses. He knows it has something to do with her trust issues and commitment phobias, but it galls him to no end that she won't let him take care of her financially. Still...he gets it–for her to be able to commit to the long term, it has to be a partnership on equal terms.

The minutes tick by, and Logan begins to worry. Finally, after forty-five minutes, he can't stand it anymore, and he follows her into the woods. He walks as quietly as possible, keeping an eye out for Veronica. After trekking for twenty minutes, he sees her crouched behind a tree, aiming her camera at the mansion fifty feet away. He hisses quietly to get her attention; she jumps in alarm and turns toward him. He sneaks closer and kneels beside her.

She cups her hands over his ear and breathes, "Are you trying to freak me out? I almost screamed."

"I was worried," he explains under his breath. "What's taking so long?"

She hands him the camera wordlessly, and he takes a look. The first room he sees is empty; he moves the lens toward the right and suddenly sees Melissa, wearing a parody of a schoolgirl outfit, on her knees in front of a man whose back is toward the window. Her white blouse has several buttons undone, and her cleavage is displayed, obviously enhanced by a push-up bra. When the man moves slightly, he sees Melissa performing an enthusiastic and obviously skilled blowjob. Logan hands the camera back to Veronica. "Who's the guy?" he hisses.

"Attorney General Schiller," she replies.

"You're kidding," Logan says in disbelief. Since his election a year ago, Schiller has made prominent headlines pursuing prostitution rings and prosecuting internet predators. The politician, married with several children, has been positioning himself for a run at the governor's office. "Too bad you're not a blackmailer; you could retire on this info," he whispers.

Veronica doesn't respond; she takes more photos, concentrating on documenting the scene. Suddenly she gasps.

"What?" he asks. She offers him the camera again, and he watches through the lens as Schiller, his famously puritanical face clearly visible, begins to spank Melissa with a ruler, her plaid skirt flipped up to expose her bare bottom. Melissa's apparently demure white tights are actually only thigh high stockings, held up by a lacy white garter belt. "Yeah," Logan chuckles, "this is good." To Veronica, he says, "How come you don't ever wear a skirt like that without underwear? Mmm." He nuzzles her ear, and she grabs the camera and focuses on the scene again, snapping several shots while she ignores him.

Veronica begins taking photos almost continuously; Logan whispers, "Come on, what's going on?" She shakes her head and diligently snaps photos, focusing the camera for the best shot.

They are both enthralled by the illicit scene playing out before them when the silence of the woods is interrupted a dog's growl. A male voice says, "Who's there?" They are momentarily blinded by a strong flashlight; Veronica recovers first. She grabs Logan's hand, drags him to his feet, and takes off, running into the woods. She begins to run at full speed, and Logan is not far behind. The dog pursues them, dragging a chain behind him and barking continuously. Veronica holds onto the camera with a death grip; even in her terror, she vows not to lose these photos. Logan sees something fall out of her jacket pocket; when he chances a look behind him, he realizes it's her flashlight, but he doesn't think twice about stopping to recover it.

The dog, however, stops momentarily to sniff at it before continuing to pursue them. It's enough time that Logan and Veronica are able to put some distance between them and the dog. Veronica, panting with exertion, finally stops, waiting for Logan to catch up. Silently, he pantomimes a steering wheel, and she shakes her head, looking around. In their panic, they've run in completely the wrong direction.

Logan looks up at the sky. It's cloudy, with no moon visible and very few stars. He closes his eyes, trying to get a sense of direction. Veronica tugs at his sleeve, pointing behind them. They see bobbing flashlights and can hear several dogs growling and rustling in the underbrush, several hundred feet away. Logan points questioningly in the opposite direction of the still visible lights of the mansion, and Veronica nods her agreement. They walk silently at a steady brisk pace, trying to put distance between them and their pursuers. After thirty minutes of walking through the darkness, Logan touches Veronica's shoulder. She stops and turns to him.

"I can't hear them anymore," he whispers. "And I can't see the lights of the house. I think we should try to circle around and get back to the road."

"Okay," she agrees, and begins to veer off to the left.

He grabs her arm and shakes his head. "No. To the right."

She gives him an exasperated look. "No, the left. We've been running southwest."

"No, we've been going north the whole time. The road runs north-south to our right, so we have to go east."

"I'm the one who was looking at the map," she replies. "I'm positive about this."

"All right," he says, giving up.

She leads the way, and they walk for a half an hour, before she stops dead in her tracks.

"What?" Logan asks.

"We've been walking in a circle," Veronica answers. "I recognize that tree."

Logan looks, and he realizes that he too remembers this particular tree, growing almost sideways out of a slight elevation to their left. He checks his watch. "Three oh five," he comments. "Maybe..."

She looks at him.

"Let's just sit down and catch our breath for a minute and figure out what to do," he suggests.

She nods her agreement. Logan takes off his jacket and puts it on the ground, and the two of them sit down. She pulls out her iPhone; as she suspected, there's no cell service in this remote location. She uses the back button to access the tracking logs she was observing in the car. Veronica points with her finger to the route she thinks they were running; Logan shakes his head and indicates a completely opposite route. She sighs. "Maybe we should wait 'til the sun comes up. Then at least we'll have an idea what direction we're walking."

He puts his arm around her. "So can I see the photos now?"

She smiles, laughing quietly at him. Veronica scrolls back through the digital images on the camera and hands it to Logan. He checks out the photos of Schiller fucking Melissa over the desk, her eyes closed in obvious enjoyment. Logan chuckles. "It's the schoolgirl outfit; it does it every time. But...Schiller? That guy is always on television, pontificating about the decline in morals in today's society. What a fucking hypocrite."

"Doesn't surprise me a bit," Veronica comments. She leans over, looking at one particularly good photo that shows Melissa arching her back, her mouth open, presumably moaning her enjoyment. She looks up at Logan, who meets her eyes. "What?" she asks, her eyes narrowing.

"Give you any ideas?" he responds. He traces his finger on her arm and whispers, "I'm thinking about you wearing a schoolgirl outfit, with no panties. Maybe...asking the teacher to change your grade, because you really, really want to go to Stanford." Logan's hand moves to her breast; with just the mere whisper of a touch, he caresses her invitingly.

"Stop it," she says without conviction. Damn, he's reading my mind again, she thinks.

He chuckles, kissing her cheek, and stands up. "It was worth a shot. I'll be right back." Logan finds a convenient bush and relieves himself. No doubt about it; those pictures were hot. Melissa was really giving it her all.

When he walks back to Veronica, she's standing up, her arms clasped behind her back. He notes with interest that she's taken off her jacket and undone several buttons on her shirt; she has carefully placed the camera, wrapped in the jacket, a short distance away.

"Yes, Veronica?" he asks as he walks up to her.

"Mr. Echolls, I worked really hard on that last paper. Isn't there any way I could improve my grade? You see, I really, really want to go to Stanford, and a "B" just won't do it. You know, some extra credit," she adds, licking her lip for emphasis. "I'm willing to do anything." Veronica trails one hand down Logan's chest, pouting prettily.

"I don't know, Miss Mars. That paper was really only a 'B' effort. It would take a lot to convince me that you deserved an 'A'," Logan replies, in character.

"I'm willing to do anything. I'm not very experienced; my boyfriend doesn't want to have sex before marriage, but...I'd like to try to show you that I deserve an 'A'." Veronica gets on her knees and touches Logan's crotch softly. "Am I doing this right?"

He exhales sharply and closes his eyes. Forcing himself to stay calm, he instructs her, "Pull down my zipper."

She undoes the button on his jeans; then agonizing slowness, she urges the zipper downward over the ever-increasing hardness of his bulge. "Oh my goodness, I didn't realize," she says. "Is that what happens..." Veronica touches him a little harder through his boxers, and he moans out loud. She pulls down his pants and shorts, saying, "Is this okay? I really want to do it right, Mr. Echolls." As she draws down his clothes, his erection springs out, and he breathes out again.

Veronica kisses his tip of his cock sweetly and looks up at him. "What should I do, teacher?"

"Oh, you are a bad girl," he replies, kicking off his shoes and stepping out of his clothes.

"I don't want to be...I really don't know what to do, Mr. Echolls," she replies. "Tell me."

Logan positions himself in front of her again, his cock in direct proximity to her moist lips; he says, trying to sound stern, "Take your tongue...and lick me." For a moment he closes his eyes, but when the delicate roughness of her tongue begins to gently abrade him, he stares down at her, watching her tongue dancing around his member. She licks him around and over and under, and he begins to tremble with the torture of it, his cock bobbing with a single-minded devotion to her attentions. Veronica looks up at him, with a questioning glance, and Logan mutters, "Take off your shirt...and your bra...and..." he moans a little, "put my cock in your mouth...if you really want that 'A'."

Pretending to be unsure of herself, she tentatively puts her mouth around him, and, god help him, he compulsively thrusts a little. He regains control as she begins to unbutton her shirt, his cock still sliding in and out of her mouth beginning to tighten around him with a delicious pressure. "Your bra," he urges her, and she reaches behind to undo the clasp, inadvertently showcasing her breasts to Logan's great pleasure. She lets the bra fall to the ground, and, with her now undivided attention, begins to suck at him vigorously. Logan stretches to fondle her breasts, and she sits up on her knees a little taller to give him greater access. Without any more prompting, she grasps his cock firmly in one hand and strokes his balls gently with the other. Logan groans and caresses her breasts, squeezing her and flicking her nipples until she writhes, arching her back to encourage him.

"Ah..ah...I'm pleased...with your progress, Miss Mars," Logan mutters. She looks up at him mischievously and suddenly takes him fully in her mouth, causing him to moan loudly. He feels himself brushing the back of her throat, and he pulls back, trying not to go too far, but she persists. Logan takes her shoulders and pushes her off, then pulls her to a standing position.

"I'm sorry, did I do something wrong?" she asks, mockingly. With an evil delicacy, she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and meets his eyes with a challenge.

Silently, he leads her a short distance to the tree that protrudes horizontally from the hillside. He leans against the tree and orders her, "Take off your clothes." He strokes himself lightly as he watches her. She kicks off her shoes and takes off the rest of her clothes. He pulls her to him and kisses her, tonguing her ferociously, and presses his erection into her. He bends to her neck and nips her, then whispers to her, "I'm imagining you with your little skirt flipped up, and your beautiful ass ready for me to spank you. Are you wet for me, baby?" He reaches down and insinuates his hand between her legs. She gasps as he suddenly inserts two fingers. "Oh, you are so ready," he says, flicking his tongue in her ear as he curls his fingers inside her. "Do you want to be fucked, little girl?" Logan asks throatily. "Do you want me to take you from behind?"

He thrusts his fingers again and again, filling her mouth with his probing, insistent tongue, until she begs him, "Please...ah...Mr. Echolls, please...fuck me!" She smiles slyly at him, with a knowing expression, challenging him to do his best.

Logan pulls out his fingers and turns her, pushing her down onto the tree. She grabs on, supporting herself and looking back at him. He takes just a moment to appreciate her and the precariousness of her position before he grabs her ass and thrusts. On the second try, he slides into her. Veronica tries to keep quiet, her pants and delicious moans for his ears alone. Logan begins to fuck her, reaching around to finger her clit. He keeps the pressure on her nub intense and steady, and she begins to tremble and buck, trying to take more of him inside.

She leans down and arches her back, and he relinquishes her clit in favor of taking her hips and controlling her movements relentlessly. The slap of his pelvis meeting her ass is shockingly loud in the quiet forest. "Oh god, I'm going to scream," she whispers breathlessly, then she shudders as he grabs her nipple, pinching her in the way he knows she loves.

Logan slows his movements, pounding into her, substituting strength for speed, and she moans helplessly as each thrust drives home. "Shhh," he cautions her. "They'll hear you in San Diego if you're not careful. We don't want Schiller's goons to find us."

"My god," she breathes as he thrusts again and again. He pulls out all the way and then violently reenters her, burying himself to the hilt; he repeats it, and she clamps her mouth shut, whimpering at the loss of his cock and then the exquisite feel of the renewed intensity. She throws her head back, unconsciously imitating that evening's target, and Logan slams into her again. He leans over her and whispers in her ear, "You love it when I do this, don't you? Tell me you want me to keep going."

"Please, don't stop...feels so good, god, Logan..." she gasps.

"Touch yourself, come on, come for me," he begs her, and she reaches one hand back to massage her throbbing clit. Suddenly, Logan can't bear not seeing her face, and he pulls out, causing her to whimper in dismay. He pulls her up by the shoulders to a standing position; he turns them around so that he can lean against the tree facing her, and he hoists her up. "Put your legs around me," he instructs, and she jumps up easily. Logan brings her down onto his cock, and she moans, trying to hitch herself up and down to ease her carnal desires. He thrusts up into her, staring at her face and using every ounce of his strength to try to satisfy her. "Veronica, hold on to me." She wraps her arms around his neck and begins to kiss his cheek and neck. Logan reaches with his left hand to stroke her center, and she begins to tremble and clench around him. Still he thrusts; he whispers, "Kiss me. Please kiss me, Veronica. Love you so much," and she finds his mouth, almost hiccuping in her release. With a final surge, he buries himself within her; she eases herself up and down one last time before sinking down onto him. She wraps her legs and arms tighter around him, trying to gather him in, to keep him within her as much as possible.

They breathe heavily, gradually calming themselves. Logan pulls back enough to see her face; he begins to stroke her hair, tucking the errant strands back into place. With the back of his hand, he caresses her cheek, and she closes her eyes, loving the affection that he lavishes on her whenever she allows it.

"Happy Anniversary," she says, with her eyes still closed. "Two months down, nine years and ten months to go."

"And then what? You split with all my money?" he asks.

"No, you know that's not what I meant. I meant...I know we'll make it to ten years."

He knows; for Veronica Mars that's like another woman's 'Yes, I'll marry you.' "I've known it since I met you," he replies. "Just took a while to convince you."

In the morning, Veronica sheepishly admits that Logan was right, and they follow the rising sun to walk eastward toward the road. When they reach the parking area where they left the car, it's gone, and they assume that the Attorney General took a petty revenge by having their car towed. They flag down a passing motorist and get a ride into town, where they call Keith and tell him what happened.

"The Attorney General, huh?" Keith remarks. "He just held a press conference, announcing he was resigning from office to devote more time to his family. Good work, Veronica. I'll pick you guys up in an hour or so."

They have some breakfast while they're waiting and then decide to walk along Main Street, window-shopping. They're walking past a store when Logan tugs on Veronica's hand and points at the window. She sees the short plaid skirt featured on the model and looks at him, laughing.

"That's what I want for our anniversary," he says, drawing her close and whispering into her ear.