Logan
I'm never leaving this bed. I'm curled around Veronica's back while she's asleep in my arms, even though the sun is shining and the clock says 10:24 a.m. We're blissfully naked, and I'm both exhausted and wired from last night, but she just feels so good that I'm going to stay here, even if it means never, ever leaving. This bed is officially an island with only room for two of us, and I never want to be rescued from it.
I feel drunk. Actually, I feel light-headed and higher than a kite. Can a person get brain damage from too much serotonin? Is it possible to have too many orgasms? They never really covered that in any sexual health classes, but I feel if it was a thing, maybe they should have warned us?
Fuck, I woke up hard, my cock pressed against her naked ass, but there's no way in hell I'm going for a cold shower this morning. From our current position, round four could take place pretty quickly if she's up for it. Veronica was insatiable last night, and I had to try my best to keep up with her. At least she brought toaster waffles and peanut butter to bed at 3:00 a.m. so I'm not starving, but food and a lot of coffee will be needed shortly.
"Mmmmm…." Veronica hums and stretches in my arms. "G' morning."
It takes her a second to notice I'm hard, and she pushes her ass towards me, wiggling against me as I groan and tighten my arms around her.
"Good morning to you, beautiful." I kiss her neck, and she hums in appreciation again.
"I had a dream like this last week," she says, her fingers stroking my arms as I hold her close.
"Really. You had a dream about us waking up naked together?"
"Yes. Except it also involved your hands all over me while we made love in this very position."
"You mean—" I slide one hand down between her thighs, cupping her sex as the other wanders up to cradle her breast. "Like this?"
She grinds against my hand, and I reposition my fingers to slip between her folds and press on her clit as I knead her breast.
"Yes, like that," she gasps, her eyes fluttering as I kiss her neck again, her body now moving in rhythm with mine. "I dreamt that you woke me up like this."
"That's funny. Because I had a dream about waking up with you last week…" I murmur into her skin between kisses. "But it involved you on all fours on our bed."
"Maybe we should split the difference," she coos. "Start like this and end like that?"
I slip my fingers further through her folds, and fuck, she's already getting wet. Before we went to bed, she had a quick shower, and she still smells clean and fresh this morning, her skin like vanilla and sugar and I resist the urge to bite her shoulder. Stroking her slowly, she moves against my fingers, and when I find her clit again, she moans.
"I think I can manage that."
"Good." She reaches back and finds my cock, moving her body away from me slightly so she can grip my shaft behind her. "Because what good is a dream if you can't make it come true?'
I groan as I move my lips up to her ear, brushing against the peak before nibbling her lobe. "If you give me permission, I'll wake you up like this every morning."
"Best alarm clock, ever," she teases, and I roll my hips, creating friction against her hand, keeping me hard.
For a moment, we both get lost in the sensation of pleasure coursing through us, her tiny gasps and moans telling me she is more than enjoying this morning wake-up call. Shifting my hand on her breast, I roll her nipple between my thumb and index finger, and she calls out.
"Yes, Logan. This is exactly how I imagined it could be."
The thing I realized last night about Veronica was that she liked things a little harder, a little rougher, the deeper we explored. She is already very good about demanding how far I should take things—directing me on what she likes and doesn't like whenever I touch her—and I am more than amiable to oblige. And the way she's unabashedly worked my body using her hands and her mouth makes me think she went and memorized our sexual health textbook from the first word to the last.
"I want to spend my life making every fantasy you have come true, Veronica."
I pinch her nipple and twist and feel her cum lubricate my fingers. I easily slide them inside of her, beginning to work her to take my cock.
As she writhes against me, her staccato voice becomes unintelligible words and swears, punctuated by gasps, her grip on my cock more intense.
"I love how loud you are, Veronica, when you're riding my fingers," I whisper in her ear. "But I want you to be louder. The sound of your voice when I'm giving you pleasure turns me on."
Her response is a deep, resonating moan that fills the room. "Yes, Logan. Yes!"
For a time, I hold her like this, working her as her hips undulate against me, my fingers getting her wetter and wetter, sensual moans echoing in our space. I could let her play with my cock like this for hours, just keeping pleasure surging through me with no end in sight. Suddenly, she lets go of me and tosses her leg back behind her over mine, her body now flush against me. I release her and position my cock between her lips, spread wide in invitation. Rolling myself over her outstretched leg, I bury myself deep inside her with a hard thrust, and she moans, calling out my name.
Our hips move together, thrusting and rolling back and forth, creating intense friction between us as I continue to play with her nipples and nip at her neck.
"I love you so much," I murmur into her skin.
"Logan...oh, Logan...I love you. I love you…."
Brushing aside the waves of pleasure pushing me to come, I try and focus on her as my fingers return to her clit, pressing down hard and rubbing her with fast little circles, and she cries out loud and long, her hips jerking wildly against me. I can hear her little pleas for release, and when I pull myself out of her, removing my hands quickly, she calls out in anger as I chuckle. Tossing the blankets off of us, I rise on my knees, grabbing her hips, and she rolls to get on all fours, her fingers gripping the sheets as she tosses a wide grin at me over her shoulder.
"Is this how your fantasy started?"
She wiggles her smooth white ass at me, and I grip her hip with one hand, my cock in the other. Her thighs spread even more, and I slip the head of my cock between her folds again, and she stops moving, her breath hitching as I give a short, quick thrust into her.
"Fuck, yes. And it ended with you riding me until we both come."
I grab her hip with my free hand and pull her back on me, burying myself so deep inside of her I think I may never come out. She arches and calls out, rocking forward and then crashing back into me, her ass cheeks slapping against my skin. I keep my hands on her to make sure she doesn't pull off all the way, but she can feel what she's doing and pulls herself off just enough to leave the head of my cock in her before taking me deeply again and again. Her voice is high and loud as she thrusts harder and harder, and our cheap bed starts to move in rhythm, crashing into the cinderblock wall. I slip my hand past her hip and reach around to take her hard clit between my fingers and pinch the sensitive nub causing her to scream in ecstasy.
"Yes! Yes, Logan! Make me come. Make me come."
Her thrusts are frantic now, and I look down to watch myself disappear inside of her, and that's when I allow the sensation to take hold, and suddenly, I'm about ready to burst. But I hold on because I want her to get off first.
When I pinch her clit harder, she cries out again, as she tosses her head back and arches into me. Her body quakes as she thrusts one more time before she stops for a split second. As her orgasm rips through her, she screams, her contracting walls grabbing my cock and pulling me deeper. Only when I feel the rush of wetness from her orgasm do I finally let go, pulsing deep inside of her, filling her with my cum.
"Jesus, Veronica!" I close my eyes as pleasure radiates through me. I feel light-headed, and I grab her hip for support as I continue to drain myself in her, a flash of white light blinding me as I come harder than I've ever come in my life.
She giggles, and I force my eyes to refocus to see her glowing face looking back over her shoulder at me. "Are you okay? It looked like your soul left your body for a second."
"It did. It's not called le petite mort for nothing."
When she slides off of me, I close my eyes again, dying at the loss of being connected as intimately as imaginable. Slowly, I lower myself onto my heels, trying to retrieve my senses.
There's a sharp knock on our door, and I lock eyes with Veronica in horror. "Oh my God, Logan…" She rolls and sits up, pulling my pillow up against her body, as if trying to hide. There's another knock, and she gasps. "What if we were too loud? What if that's campus security?"
I give my head a quick shake, trying to get my brain cells engaged again. Gingerly, I rise from the bed and steady myself before attempting to move any further.
"I'll handle this…" I assure Veronica, trying to sound confident, but I'm still light-headed, and I waver before my knees remember how to engage. I cross to my dresser as the knocking sounds again and I yank a pair of black boxer briefs from the drawer pulling them on as fast as I can with my brain still so foggy.
"Hold on!" I yell as I head for the door, silently cursing whoever could be on the other side. When I pull the door open, Duncan is there, his face beet red, his lips pursed in anger as he grips two coffee cups. For a second, I wonder how long he's been on the other side of this door, then his nose wrinkles in disgust, and I realize when I breathe in the fresh air from the hallway that our room smells like sweat and sex, a scent now wafting out through the open door.
"Well, good morning to you, Duncan." I place my hand on the door frame and lean towards him. "To what do we owe this honour?'
He shoves one of the tall paper coffee cups towards me, his lip twitching as he opens his mouth to speak. "I felt bad about how we left things last night. I thought we could talk and salvage this friendship. But I was wrong. You're nothing more than a government stooge, Logan, pretending to be committed to Veronica when really it's all about sex. First, you defiled my sister, now you're forcing your sexual depravity on Veronica, and it's disgusting."
Taking the coffee before he can throw it at me, I place it on the counter and cross my arms, letting the door close against me to block the view into our room.
"I'm not forcing Veronica to do anything," I state, cooly, trying to keep my voice level even though I can feel my blood pressure rising. "Everything happening in this room is (a) consensual and (b) none of your goddamn business."
Duncan shoots his arm out to point towards our room, coming within inches of my nose, but I don't flinch, keeping myself as a wall between him and Veronica inside.
"Don't tell me that what I just heard was you making love to the woman you love, because that's the kind of disgusting fucking I heard when you were with Lilly," he yells.
I open my mouth to speak, and instead, Veronica's voice drifts over my shoulder. "Stop it, Duncan. Just stop."
To my surprise, she pulls the door away from me, and I look down to see her step next to me wrapped in the old, grey blanket, her hair still curly and dishevelled from sleep and our night together, but her eyes are bright and tossing daggers at Duncan.
"If you would rather believe the rantings of your roommate over the advice from the people that care about you, then you just need to step out of our lives. Our relationship is none of your business, especially what happens behind this closed door."
I glance down the hall to see everyone standing stone still, all eyes on us and our confrontation with Duncan. Now I'm really concerned that Security will be called. Duncan's mouth opens as if he's about to argue, but then he closes his lips tightly, his eyes dropping to look at the floor, having been shamed by the woman he professes to love.
"I think he gets it. Retract the claws, Bobcat, and let's go back in," I state, dropping my hand to her shoulder.
"Fine." She turns and stalks back into the room, leaving me to deal with Duncan.
Sighing, I scratch the stubble on my cheek as Duncan raises his piercing dark eyes at me. There's something in the way he's looking at me that makes me think this is not over, not by a long shot, but instead of saying anything more, he just turns and walks silently down the hall as people step out of his way to let him pass.
Closing the door, I lock it and press my forehead to the wood, taking a cleansing breath. This wasn't how life was supposed to be. Duncan was supposed to have a partner, I was supposed to have a partner. We were supposed to have dinner parties, and our partners would be friends, and we would get together for our kids' birthdays. He was my best friend. He was my brother. And now, he was gone. The fact that he was acting like a dumbass should make it easier, but somehow, it makes it worse.
With a deep breath, I push myself away from the door and grab the paper cup as I walk back towards the bed. "Well, the good news is Duncan bought me an extra-large coffee, so we can share it. I don't think he's poisoned it, but we may want the college medic on speed dial."
Veronica's sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed still draped in the blanket, her eyes filled with concern. I take a sip from the cup and sit at the edge, my hand resting on her knee.
"Hey! I'm only kidding...I don't think Duncan would actually poison us…"
"It's not that." She shakes her head, her lips forming a tight line. "Logan...what are those scars on your back?"
Oh. Shit.
Veronica
"These?" he says slowly, turning a bit to show them to me again like I didn't already see them when he was at the dresser or when I was standing behind him at the door. "They're from an accident."
"An accident? What kind of accident?"
Logan takes another quick sip of coffee, his eyes darting off to the side at something unknown, and I watch his entire body shrink and slouch, morphing from a man filled with confidence to one trying to hide in his own skin.
"A bike accident. I was on a production set, and I was booting down a gravel road on my bike with no shirt on and wiped out. They had to pick the rocks out of my back in the hospital." His eyes dart back to mine briefly before standing, walking over to the kitchen, and I watch him take two mugs and start pouring the coffee between them for us.
He's lying.
Emotion squeezes my heart—Logan's lying to me. I know what a bike wipeout looks like because I have a scar on my leg from almost the exact same thing. It's on the back of my calf, and it looks like someone took a bite out of me. The ones on his back are long with raised skin forming broken lines on his back. There are only a few, but they're there. But the damndest thing is I know them. I know what they're from. But it just can't be…
He returns to the bed and leans over to give me a quick kiss as he hands me my coffee, now made just how I like it.
"Thank you."
I take a sip as he sits back down on the bed, still concentrating a little too hard on the coffee in his mug. Leaning over, I place the cup on my side table and drop my hands in my lap, trying to gather the strength to say what I need to say.
"It's just that...they don't look like a bike scar," I start, quietly. Stretching my leg out from under my blanket, I awkwardly turn my calf towards him. "See, the scar from gravel on skin leaves more of a divot. I know because I have one too, from the same thing...I wiped out on a gravel road when I was seven years old." That has his attention, and he stares at my leg, his face still as he listens. Hesitantly, I say the words I don't want to imagine could be true. "What those look like to me are whip marks because the skin around the cuts is raised. I know because I saw pictures of what they did to the slaves on American plantations when I did a project on the first civil war in school. And the ones on your back look exactly like those."
"It was a bike," he insists, keeping his eyes lowered.
"Logan, please, I know you're lying."
Holding on to my blanket dress, I scoot closer to him and place my hand on his knee, hoping that the physical closeness will help him decide to be honest.
"I'm not lying."
"Yes, you are if you can just tell me…"
Standing quickly, Logan moves from my touch, darting across the room to place his coffee cup on top of his dresser. Opening the top drawer, he extracts a grey t-shirt and pulls it over his head to cover himself, slamming it closed when he's done, his back still turned to me.
"You shouldn't have seen."
"I'm your partner. I was bound to see them eventually. Now please, tell me how you got them."
"I can't." Gripping the edge of the dresser, he lowers his head.
"You can. What happened? Please, you need to trust me."
"I can't!"
"Why can't you trust me?"
Spinning around, his hand clutches his heart, his eyes finally making contact with mine, and I can see the wild fear across his face. "Because! Because the last person I trusted to tell this to was paid off and shipped away to Canada. And I don't want that—I don't want to lose you!"
"You're not going to lose me! Just trust me, please, Logan. Tell me how you got these scars." My heart is racing with fear. It must be bad. If he's working this hard to hide it, it must be so awful. Tossing my feet over the edge of the bed, I rise, fighting my instinct to wrap my arms around him and hold him until he tells me the truth.
"My father," he whispers. "Aaron gave them to me."
"What? But that's not possible. Child abuse is illegal. If you told a government official, you'd be protected."
He scoffs and shakes his head. "I told a teacher. The teacher did nothing. They protected my father, not me."
"What did he do to you, Logan?"
For a second, he balks, licking his lips, his eyes darting around the room as if looking for an exit. When he realizes there is none, he crosses his arms over his chest and looks me square in the eye, and I know whatever he's about to say will be the awful truth.
"Aaron beat me, Veronica. The scars are from him beating me with his belt over the years for everything from being too loud on a set to getting a C+ in math in sixth grade. I was lucky, and only a few left physical scars, but there were also broken arms, dislocated ribs, threats…"
"We have to tell someone." I step across the room, my hands rising to press on his chest, and he looks down at me with concern. "We have to tell my dad! He'll do something! He'll make sure Aaron pays for what he's done to you!"
"No! You can't!" Stepping away from me, he crosses to the cafe table, his back turned to me again. "If I tell anyone, he'll hurt my mom!"
"But Logan, my dad can protect both of you and…"
"No!" His fist slams down on the table, and I jump at the bang, my nerves now tingling on edge. "Don't you get it, Veronica? The system is a joke! I tried to get someone to help us, and they were just paid off and sent away, and nothing happened. Nothing! No justice was served. That's because nothing has changed since the war. It's just taken all the darkness that was in the world and pushed it down into the shadows where no one can find it! Duncan is right about that part—the government makes it seem like this is all been dealt with, but it's not. It's not!"
"That...that may be true, but my dad is good and honourable, and if you tell him, he can't be bought, he can't be manipulated. He'll get you justice, you'll see!"
"It's my life, Veronica. It's my choice, not yours." Rubbing his eyes with his palms, he lets out a frustrated sigh. "Because if I tell your dad and my mother is hurt because Aaron found out, I'll never forgive myself. Ever."
"I...I don't know…Logan, a crime has been committed. I need to tell my dad. It's the right thing to do." My eyes focus on the phone, mentally calculating the time difference between here and Neptune.
"Fine." Logan throws up his hands in defeat. "Do what you're going to do then. I'm sure you've already made up your mind anyhow. I'm going to take a shower."
"Logan…" I reach out for him as he hurries for the bathroom door, but he dodges my touch, slamming the door behind him as he hides in the only place he can.
I glance from the phone to the door and back, and my heart aches for him. Closing my eyes, the only thing I see is an imagined scene of Logan being beaten by that monster, Aaron, and my stomach churns in disgust. The idea that someone could hurt the person I love, to the point where he is scarred—physically and emotionally—makes me ill. And then, something else rises in me...anger. A wave of deep, deep anger that Aaron got away with this for years and nothing was done makes me so mad I want to scream. But I don't. I can't. Logan is right—this is his story to tell, not mine. Maybe in time, he'll come around, but for now, I just need to talk to him, make him feel secure and loved, just like he makes me feel every day.
Now is not the time. Not yet.
Logan
The warm water is soothing, washing away the anger and self-loathing that seems to be seeping from my pores. I'm so stupid. I can't believe I forgot about my back after everything I did last night to try and hide it from Veronica. And now, because of Ducan's voyeuristic visit, she's seen them, and she knows and, fuck, now she'll leave. I know it. She's too perfect for someone like me. Duncan was right. She deserves to be with someone with a lot less baggage.
The door to the shower opens and I jump in shock to see her standing at the entrance, naked, a look of concern on her face as she steps in, forcing me to move back against the wall. She closes the glass door and advances, pinning me up against the cold tiles as she wraps her arms around my waist, pressing her cheek to my chest. Her fingers find the ridges along my back, and her palms spread over the scars. I'm so shocked that it takes me a second to register that she's hugging me, but when I do snap out of my haze, I wrap my arms around her tightly, letting the water wash over us both.
"You could have told me," she says softly, above the sound of the running water.
"No. I couldn't."
"Why not?"
"Veronica, would you have accepted our partnership if you had known?" I look down at her to see her gaze back up, her eyebrows knitted in concern.
"Please don't do that, Logan."
"Don't do what? Ask you bluntly if you could love someone as fucked up as I am?"
"You're not fucked up."
"Yeah, I am, Veronica. I've just gotten very used to hiding it from the world."
"I don't want you to hide anymore, Logan. I want to see all of you, the good and the bad. And I want the chance to love all of you." She blinks back the water on her eyelashes, and for a moment, I think she may cry.
"I'm sorry, I didn't tell you." My heart tightens, and I try to recover the pain I've inflicted on her. "I'm sorry you had to find out this way."
"I'm sorry you felt the need to hide it from me," she replies, holding me tighter. "But you're not the only family who has secrets that they've been hiding. I have secrets of my own that I've been hiding from you."
"Like what?"
"My mother is an alcoholic. Over the years, she's been treated at home by different counselors, but she's relapsed several times." I confess, feeling the weight of the secret releasing from my body. "And I hide it from everyone because if she gets shipped off to rehab, then she'll never come back."
"Why do you say that?"
"Because of what happened to Dick's mom when we were kids. His mom was shipped off to rehab, and she never came back. I overheard my mother gossiping about it with her friends once, and I was terrified that it would happen to her. When I told her about it, she said that it wouldn't happen to her if I kept her drinking a secret."
Veronica's mother was lying to her. I cringe and wipe the water from my face, pained with the knowledge I'm about to break Veronica's bubble about her mother's actions.
"It's not because of rehab, Veronica." I lean down and kiss the top of her wet hair, trying to do this as gently as possible. "Dick told me the story….his mother went to rehab, and when she was released, she ran off with a man she met there to Mexico. Dick just never talks about it because she left behind him and his little brother, Cassidy, without ever saying goodbye. That's also why Dick has been seeing a counsellor for most of his life—she really messed him up."
"Oh." She gasps, shifting her hands to press against my chest as I keep holding her tightly, watching her process what I've just said. "My mother was lying to me then, manipulating me to keep her drinking a secret."
"It would seem that way. I'm so sorry, Veronica." For a moment, we're both silent in our warm cocoon, protected from the outside world as we both process the mess our parents have made of our lives. I press my cheek to her head, tucking her in against my body. "Thank you for telling me your secret. This really puts your anger at me for drinking too much in perspective. I promise I'll never do it again."
"Logan, I don't want you to feel like you need to hide anything from me ever again. I love you, scars and all." She steps away from my arms slightly to gaze up at me again, her eyes filled with sadness. "And if you want to keep this between us for now, I won't tell my dad—not until you're ready—but please think about it. You are my family now, and I'm yours. If you tell my dad, we can not only put Aaron in prison but also get the counselling you need to move past what happened. But until that time, whatever you need from me, I'll be there to help you."
"I just need you, Veronica. Just you. I never thought I deserved to be loved until you came into my life to love me unconditionally."
"I do love you, Logan. I love you so much." She rises on her toes to me, kissing me with such tenderness that my heart wants to burst. "And I need you, just as much as you need me."
Veronica's palms cradle my cheeks, and I lift her, turning us, so she's now pressed against the tiles, her legs wrapped around my waist as I continue to kiss her, lips brushing against each other as the water washes down us. There is no hurry—no desire for us to leave this place for now—and when we finally make love, as the water turns cold against our warm bodies, I feel like we could stay like this, hidden from the world, forever.