THE INTRUDER

Took it upon myself to marathon watch Veronica Mars again lately, in prep for the big return – didn't regret it for one moment, and got weirdly inspired to write. I always used to lurk and read all the LoVe stuff but never wrote – well, here's changing that.

And how better to start writing than gratuitous post-movie, post-180 days epic smut?

Italics are the characteristic Veronica voiceovers. Hope it works.

Enjoy.

Call it her history, call it never being completely outside of work, call it the curse of the PI, but she's never been a heavy sleeper. So when her door opens, however quietly, at almost midnight, when she's just drifted off, she finds herself sitting bolt upright in bed instantly, clutching into her bedside drawer for the taser.

Whoever it is won't be expecting me to be ready for them, I'll have the element of surprise…

She feels her heart thumping in her chest, behind her ears, in her throat regardless, despite being poised, ready, brandishing the taser in the direction of her bedroom door.

Logan's home tomorrow. Shame if I don't quite make it to being within touching distance of him again, after the longest 180 days of my life… she can't help a tiny sigh, then, because she can't remember ever in her whole life wanting anything as much as tomorrow to come, to hear his voice from standing right in front of her, not just down a slightly tinny Navy phone line, and to see him out of the pixels on her Skype screen, to actually reach out and touch him… she feels the familiar tingling deep inside her at the thought of finally touching him again, and has to scold herself.

I should not be thinking like that when there's a potential murderer-burglar in my house. There's a time and a place for all the thoughts about everything I plan on doing to Logan tomorrow night, and everything he's already promised me, but it is not right now.

She hears the creaking of the floorboards on the fifth step – the intruder's heading upstairs, and she wouldn't be surprised if he could hear her heartbeat, it's raging so loudly in her ears. She grits her teeth. She's seen much worse, this is minimal…

As her bedroom door slowly slides open she gets ready to use the taser, ready to spring forward, use her element of surprise, when she registers the white uniform and that beautifully familiar face and the white hat tucked under his arm, and for a moment, and only a moment, she freezes.

He seems to take the same number of seconds to register what's going on, acclimatise to walking into a room where she's brandishing a weapon at him, not exactly the welcome he's been dreaming about for the last 179 days. When he finds his grasp on the current reality, he raises an eyebrow slightly.

"I come in peace." He breathes, setting his hat down on the bookcase and raising his hands in mock surrender.

Still stunned, she flickers her eyes to the bedside clock, and frowns. "You're not supposed to be here… it's still… it's still day 179 for… for 12 more minutes, I-"

He laughs, taking a step closer toward her.

His laugh… that never sounds the same in my head, in my memories, as it does in real life…

"I can go outside and come back in in 12 minutes if you want?" But he curves a hand behind her ear, threading through her hair, cupping the back of her skull regardless.

She shakes her head, opening and closing her mouth on nothing at all, suddenly speechless.

Her eyes flicker down to his lips, if only for a second, but he doesn't miss it.

"God, I missed you." He hisses, using the fingers tangled in her hair to pull her towards him, almost all the way until her face is about half an inch from his, and she's almost cross-eyed.

"What's 180 days?" she whispers, a tiny smile curving one side of her mouth, "To us?"

He chuckles, that deep rumbling sound that has her feeling a sudden tightness between her thighs, and a realisation that there's not enough of his skin touching hers. "179."

"Indeed." She rests her forehead against his, letting her eyes drift closed, suddenly finding breathing a challenge. "What happened?"

"Managed to get the earlier flight out – thought I'd surprise you when you woke up in the morning… I wasn't counting on almost being taken down when I snuck in, hoping to see my beautiful girl curled up sound asleep in bed…"

My beautiful girl… is he trying to send me into respiratory arrest? It should not be this difficult to breathe…

"I thought… I thought you were…"

"Shhh…" he slides a finger up between their tauntingly close lips, pressing it against hers. "Stop thinking, bobcat…"

With the nickname, and his finger right there, and his clear instructions, there only seems like one possible next move. She slides her tongue between her lips and tantalisingly slowly, slides it along and up the side of his finger. His finger curves slightly as she reaches the top, and she slides his whole finger into her mouth, sucking gently, teasing. His breath hitches and he tightens his fingers in her hair, but for just a moment he lets her suck on his finger, snaking her tongue up and down, leaning towards him, matching every inch of her body against every inch of his.

All of a sudden, it's not enough. He slides his finger out of her mouth (he can't help the fleeting, self-satisfied grin on his face as she whimpers) and threads his other hand into her hair. As he crashes against her, reminiscent of all the finesse they had when they were still in high school, he leans into her, hoping she can feel the effect she's having on him – hell, the effect she's always had on him – with just that smart little mouth. Particularly that flexible little tongue.

That flexible tongue is sliding between his lips now, snaking against his tongue, and she's biting on his lower lip, and he can taste blood. She loops her arms around his neck as he slides one of his out of her hair and down her throat, dancing across her collarbone and lower.

"Fuck, Logan." She gasps against his mouth as he wraps his hand around her left breast, brushing his thumb gently over her nipple, through the wafer thin fabric of her pyjama T-shirt. Her hands snake down from around his neck as she arches against him, finding their way to the buttons on his Navy whites.

He pulls back a little, laughing breathlessly. "Can't have you ripping these." He hisses, as he fumbles with the buttons and shrugs it off his shoulders and onto the floor, pushing his pants down his legs in the process, thanking whichever God might be listening that he doesn't still have his shoes on.

When he flicks his eyes back in her direction, she's tossed aside the bed sheets and she's kneeling on the edge of the mattress before him, in nothing but that tiny T-shirt and some pink lace panties.

He swallows, stepping back towards her, this time planting his hands on her lower back, his fingertips teasing into her panties, and tugging her hips towards his. As they collide, her mouth finds his again, and it's all so warm and hard and on fire she's not sure how quickly it's going to be over. Because it's been a long time, and everything's suddenly imploding.

His hand finds its way up under the thin cotton of her shirt this time, and as that big, callused thumb grazes her rock hard nipple she rocks her hips, grinding against him, and her fingers slip under the waistband of his boxers. She marvels, even after all these years, all that history, at his size as her fingers brush against his erection, and then he's swearing against her mouth and pushing her down onto the mattress, kicking his pants from around his ankles and crawling on top of her on the bed.

She only takes a moment to slide her T-shirt over her head, leaving her bare apart from the pink lace panties underneath him, and his eyes darken even more.

"You're so fucking beautiful, V." he half gasps, and she feels his lips and his tongue around one nipple as his fingers snake down, sliding into her panties, past her curls, to slide against her folds. "And you're so fucking wet." He hisses against her.

"All for you…. Only for you…" she manages before she almost collapses entirely as he slides two fingers inside her. "God, Logan…"

"People often mix us up." He gives her a wry smile as he rips her panties, before starting a slow, torturous rhythm, pulling his fingers almost entirely out before slowly right back in.

"Holy… fuck…" She gasps, and he nips at her nipple one last time before moving lower. Finding her hands unoccupied, and the pleasure rising inside her at an almost worrying rate, with the comforting familiarity of his fingers, she cups one around a breast, thumbing the nipple almost absent-mindedly, and the other continues travelling further down.

He continues his slow, delicious torture of his two fingers, like he's determined to keep her on the brink of her orgasm all night, until her own fingers reach for her clit.

"Mine." He growls, pulling her hand away and pinning it against the mattress, before leaning right in and finding her with his tongue.

Veronica feels like something's exploding inside of her as he laps gently at her, at an alternating rhythm to his fingers. And it's building and building and she's not sure how much longer she'll be able to hold on for – it's been too long, and no vibrators or fantasies or even those few incidences of fantastic phone sex have anything on this. And then he nips at her clit ever so gently with his teeth, and she feels herself falling over the edge, contracting around him, every inch of her trembling. He laces the fingers of the hand that's holding hers back through her own, and it's beautifully intimate as she crashes down from the best orgasm she's had in 179 days.

As the shudders subside, slowly, she pulls him up the bed towards her, gasping for breath.

"I love you so damn much." He half grunts as his mouth finds hers again and with her heart in her mouth she tastes herself on him, if only for a moment. His hips rocking against her remind her how unfinished he is, all those hard inches of him still confined inside his boxers. Still catching her breath, she pushes his boxers down over his hips and takes him in her hands, brushing her thumb lightly over the top as he kicks off the last piece of fabric between them. She feels every muscle in his body tense above her.

"I love you too." She breathes against his mouth, as she guides him between her legs, like it's the simplest thing in the world. "Fuck me, Logan."

His eyes meet hers for a moment before he closes them again, and in that instant she's overwhelmed by all the emotions in there – the love, the tiniest flicker of fear, the devotion, the almost desperation, the lust… she's sure it's a reflection of everything in hers.

When he thrusts suddenly and buries himself to the hilt inside her, she's almost choked by how sudden it is, and how welcome. She grazes her lips against his almost half-heartedly, and then snakes up his jawline as he braces himself on the mattress below her and buries his face in the crook of her neck.

"God, you're perfect." He whispers against her ear, pulling almost entirely out of her before rocking back in, reigniting every fire that had just been put out inside her. "So fucking tight, you've always been…"

She rocks her hips up to meet him, taking him deeper every time, gasping as he stretches her so gloriously again. Because 179 days is a long time to go.

I can never seem to remember quite how amazing this feels.

"No one else has ever felt this good." He whispers, and she feels her heart beat faster, the pleasure rising inside her once more. "Only you. Come for me…"

He nips at the skin above her collarbone with his words. "Come for me, bobcat…"

And suddenly, she's on the brink again, although she barely picked herself up from the last time, and it's this man in her arms, this man that she's loved forever, whether she admits it to herself or anyone else, and suddenly she's crashing around him, harder than she has in years, and maybe harder than she ever has before, certainly riding a thousand times higher than she ever did with anyone else.

He feels her clenching around him in that way that always completely undoes him, and he's exhausted and has been 179 days away, and with two more sharp, short thrusts he's spilling into her, catching her hand as they both fall off the cliff, almost together.

He collapses by her side in the bed, moments later, gasping for breath.

"Wow." She breathes, rolling half onto her side, sliding her fingers across his chest, absent-mindedly circling across his skin.

"Uh huh." Is all he manages to reply before tugging the sheets back over the pair of them and tucking his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against him.

"What was 180 days, really?" she smiles, pressing her lips against the side of his jaw, "I can't remember those 180 days right now… I can't really think…"

He smiles. "179." He corrects her again, and she laughs lightly, her hand finding its resting place on his shoulder and curling herself fully around him.

"Even better." She breathes, letting her eyes drift closed. "I missed you more than I even thought possible."

He responds, quite simply, pressing his lips against the skin at the top of her head as he listens to her breathing slow into sleep. When he's certain she's sleeping he kisses the top of her head one last time and lets his own eyes drift close.

"Just one more." He breathes, as he drifts into sleep. "One more set of 180."

Suddenly, there's a life in front of him, beyond the Navy. There's a reason to take a promotion and a more regular schedule, and build everything he never thought was meant for him.

Right here, in his arms.

Hope you liked! Would love to hear what you think – always nerve wracking, posting to a new fandom!