TITLE: Cock of the Walk (1/1)
CHARACTER: Veronica, Logan, and everyone at Neptune High School
WORD COUNT: 9,954
RATING: NC17 (the good kind)
SUMMARY: Did you ever wonder why Logan Echolls wasn't in "Like a Virgin"? Perhaps it was because if Logan had seen Veronica in that cheerleading outfit, the universe as we know it would cease to exist.
SPOILERS: Spoilers for season 1.
WARNINGS: Did you know that teenage boys think about sex every 17 seconds? Lots of dirty vanilla sex.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own any rights to Veronica Mars. This story is written as a tribute only. Beta'd by jesstherobot. All remaining errors are my responsibility
Written as a Christmas present for zaftig_darling. Love you, G.
••••Please note this story is not in either the YLD universe
or part of the "Precipitation" series••••
••••IF YOU ARE OFFENDED BY SEXUAL CONTENT, PLEASE DO NOT READ••••
Author's note: All right, you whippersnappers. Listen up. My beta didn't understand some of my lingo, probably because it's ancient. Now, I've learned all about your 'tossed salads', your 'reverse cowboys' (it's not that we didn't do it in the stone age, but we didn't feel the need to name it), your 'pwned', etc., etc. So you can just learn a couple of *my* terms, because I'm cranky, and don't want to change them. And my Logan watches old Hollywood movies, so he knows these terms.
To haul someone's ashes: euphemism for getting laid (you haul a man's ashes, I'd say, not so much a woman's). Think about it: back when we walked 10 miles through snow to school and back (uphill both ways), we heated our houses with fire and you had to clean out the fireplace in the morning, getting rid of the ashes so as to allow oxygen to reach the base of the fire. So thus we have the euphemism.
Snort (noun): refers to a quick drink of alcohol, especially a shot. If you kids are snorting alcohol for real, like putting it up your nose, you're doin' it wrong. Sheesh.
There's a couple others in here that I think are obvious from the connotation.
I hereby sentence you all to watch "Mad Men." And I'm just going to go back to my rocking chair and my vodka IV.
She walked out of the front door into the lunch area with her head held high, her midriff exposed by the yellow and green cheerleading outfit. Logan watched, his mouth dropping open as Veronica Mars, accompanied by a nervous Meg Manning, proceeded through a catcalling like never heard before at Neptune High.
Dick nudged him with an elbow, then yelled, hands cupped for maximum dispersion, "Two, four, six, eight...who do we appreciate?" The wolf-whistles increased, and...hey...was that?... Yeah...that was a little redness, a flush on her cheeks. Time to turn up the heat.
Logan chortled, and chanted, "Two, four, six, eight, slutty girls who co-pu-late!" Dick high-fived him with a laugh, and the lunch table murmured appreciatively. Of course they did. Logan was king around here...king of the acerbic wit, and the arbiter of who got a pass at Neptune and who got tormented.
She whirled around, and almost as if they'd rehearsed it, Veronica stomped over and said, "I think what you meant to say was...des-prate boys who mas-tur-bate. Must be lonely now that Caitlin's not servicing you. I bet you're intimately familiar with your fist. You gonna take Rosie Red Palm to the winter formal?"
Dick guffawed, "Oh, ho-ho-hohhh, Logan, you're not going to let her get away with that!"
Veronica smiled sweetly, turning around as if she didn't have a care in the world, and walked back to Meg, strutting, as if she owned that cheerleader outfit. She began to chat again with Meg, who shrugged and looked around at all the gaping faces. Meg, at least, wasn't happy with all the attention they had.
Logan called after her, "Fuck you, too, Veronica Mars. I'll see you later...on your knees. I'll bring the French tickler, 'cause I know you like it."
The lunch area exploded in a collective "Ooh, burn!" "Ronnie's such a slut!" "Better call your daddy, Ronnie!" "Good one, Logan!"
Was that a twitch of her head? A slight movement of her shoulders, as if she was determined to let it roll right off her. Damn, she was tough. He remembered the way she'd flounced right into the computer room a few weeks back, handing him her videos of Lilly for the memorial. Now she's concerned about Lilly, Logan had thought scornfully. Where the hell was she when her dad took up a sword against the Kane family? Where was her loyalty then?
What kid took their parent's side against their friends, anyways? Especially their dad's side. That was just crazy. Dads were to be fought against, to be mocked. You were supposed to embarrass your parents, not...whatever the hell it was that she'd done.
Veronica was saying goodbye to Meg, obviously the source of the cheerleading outfit. Meg wandered over to the table and sat down. She gave Logan a glance and withered under his scowl.
Meg was always just too damn nice. Didn't she understand that sides had been drawn? War was being waged, and she needed to get with the program. Logan half-listened as the table dissected the latest Neptune scandal.
Pam said, "Oh my god. Meg, is Veronica Mars wearing your uniform?"
"Yeah," Meg replied, a little uncertainly. Logan resolved to talk to Cole—tell him to keep his girlfriend in line. Or else.
"Ugh." Pam made a face. "Better make sure she washes it."
Dick blurted, "I'd boil it if I were you." Logan huffed a laugh. Totally.
Meg shook her head. "We fear what we don't understand. Veronica's cool, you guys, really." Logan gave her another scornful look, and Meg squirmed, uncomfortable under Logan's disdain.
Dick, always loyal, knew exactly what to say. "Veronica's cool?" He jerked his head in Logan's direction. "Tell that to Logan. Veronica put a bong in his locker and got him suspended." Sean and Luke made vague sounds of support...steadfast, as they should be.
Kimmy, spiteful as ever, added, "And what about Ashley? She told her that her dad was having an affair. A week later her parents split up."
Agreeing, Pam said decisively, "You're too nice, Meg. The girl's a skank."
Logan thought that Meg looked shaken at this solid front against Veronica. Good, he thought.
Dick elbowed Logan again. "Hey. Ronnie's going home."
"Let's get her." Logan and his crew, Dick, Luke, and Sean, stood up and followed Veronica out to the parking lot. She was oblivious, fumbling in her book bag, probably checking for her homework as she walked through the lot.
Upon Logan's nod, Luke yelled, "Hey, baby, wait up! What happened to your clothes?"
Sean chimed in, "Can you turn a cartwheel for us? I bet you're extra bend-y."
Veronica stiffened. Hoisting the book bag over her shoulder, she started walking a little faster towards the LeBaron on the far side of the parking lot.
That tight ass under the flippy green skirt, clenching and unclenching, as she speed-walked, trying to put distance between herself and her pursuers. That cute little expanse of leg above the faux-prim white bobby sox, perfection really, if he let himself...no. He wouldn't let himself.
Logan began to run, passing her and ending up at the LeBaron well before she did. He leaned on the trunk and made a megaphone with his hands. "Gimme an 'S'! Gimme a 'K'! Gimme an 'A'! Gimme an 'N'—"
Seeing him lying in wait for her, she slowed her pace. Assessing...like a huntress, he thought. She wasn't scared of him at all. Veronica was frowning, her brow creased in anger, but she had no fear of him.
Finally, she reached the car and shoved him hard. "Move. Or I'm going to run you over."
"Aw, Ronnie, come on. Headed home for a little afternoon delight? Who's the lucky fellow? Or should I say, fellows? Is the swim team waiting for you?"
That did it. She'd obviously heard the rumors he'd been spreading. Acid dripped from her voice. "When did you become such a bastard?" Veronica started rummaging for her keys, conspicuously upset. She wiped her eye—really, a tear, Veronica?—and then suddenly, she whipped out a taser from her purse and held it to Logan's side.
Screaming electricity flowed through his body as he jerked and fell to the ground. He gasped, trying to get air back in his lungs, more mad that he'd fallen for her deception than actually hurt.
She leaned over him, pressing the weapon threateningly into his ribs as he writhed in pain. With a drop of spit hitting him in the eye, Veronica hissed, "Don't fuck with me anymore. I'm not kidding." She put the taser right in his face and let it rip, with a little crackle of energy snapping between the contact points.
Logan didn't flinch, and he loved the little look of surprise in her eyes when she realized he wasn't going to buckle under. Didn't she know that he never backed down? He whispered, sardonic as ever, "Oh, Ronnie...we're just getting started."
From behind them, Dick started chanting, with the other boys joining in, "I see London, I see France, I see Ronnie's underpants."
Veronica turned away from Logan to the others. Straightening, she smoothed the short skirt over her butt again. She said scathingly, "I see that English tutor's really working out well for you, Dick. Have you given a thought to where you're going to go to college? Better get your dad to donate a library." She put the weapon back in her purse, dismissively, Logan thought.
"Fuck you," Dick retorted.
"Yeah, fuck you, Ronnie," Sean said. He bent down and hauled Logan to his feet.
Logan wiped his mouth, still jittery from the jolt of electricity, still stinging from the humiliation of letting her get the drop on him. "Never did pay you back for getting me arrested, bitch."
"Oh, big fucking deal. I also made sure the evidence burned up, so there was no case against you. You didn't even have to go to a hearing. Case dismissed, asshat."
He wanted to scream at her, "Yeah, but my dad didn't believe me that the bong wasn't mine, and he's beaten the crap out of me ten times since then for getting suspended, including just last night."
But his minions didn't know. No one knew. And he wanted to keep it that way.
Veronica maybe knew. She'd asked a few questions, once upon a time, and he was positive she hadn't quite believed the lies he'd told her and Lilly about the bruises on his back, that day at the beach. Veronica was no dummy, he'd give her that. But no one else knew. And Veronica certainly didn't care any more. Once upon a time, he'd thought about telling her, asking her to talk to her dad the sheriff for him. But not now.
She probably did know, and didn't give a shit. Fuck her!
His voice a little more trembly than he liked, Logan said, "You're gonna pay for that bong."
"I'm gonna pay? I already paid! You busted my headlights!"
"But your pet monkey fixed 'em for you, no charge, after he 'intervened' on your behalf. That Mexican cock really does it for you, huh? ¡Qué huevos, papí! Ay, ¡más! Do you guys have a three-way with your new little African-American friend? I hear you don't discriminate on the basis of the color. Veronica Mars, she'll go down on anyone."
Sarcasm...it was something he truly excelled at, lavishing it on his victims. Too bad it couldn't go on his transcript. 'Logan has made great strides in his studies. A+, in Bitter Repartee 101.' He smiled at her as she fumed. This was getting good. "You know, Ronnie, it seems to me you need another reminder that you shouldn't screw with me. Slashed tires, maybe?"
Her eyes narrowed in fury, and finally she lashed out. "What the hell, Logan? Time to move on. You need a project or something. Wasn't there something about...what the hell was it...oh yeah. Bum fights. Way to make your mom proud."
Gritted teeth, clenched fists...the world gone red, the way it always did right before he beat the shit out of somebody. "Leave my mother out of it!"
She leaned into him. This was the coup de grace, he knew. "You know, I'm not the only one with a lush for a mother. Kind of weird the way you always bring that up...like it's one of your issues."
His chest tightened...no air in his lungs...no air! He spit, "Get the fuck out of here, Ronnie, before I forget that I don't beat up on girls, even slutty ones like you." Fingernails actually fucking drawing blood as his fists tightened.
Veronica rolled her eyes. "With all the action I'm supposed to be getting, I should be having way more fun. Toodles, boys." She waggled her fingers at him and pushed him hard as she sashayed, actually fucking sashayed, to her car door. Hips canted, she looked over her shoulder at him, "Don't you wish you had a shot at me, baby? But you don't, Logan. Better go home and rub one out." She opened the car door and jumped in, turning the key and gunning the engine once before backing out fast, with the tires squealing and Logan and his friends jumping out of her way.
That night, just like he did most nights, Logan got under the bed covers and took himself in hand.
His fantasies were varied. For a long time after Lilly's death, he couldn't bear to think about her, so the focus of his imaginings became Jessica Alba, then Scarlett Johansson, then Alyssa Milano. Anna Kournikova memorably volleyed with him, naked, on the Echolls tennis court right outside his window. Pamela Anderson was an old standby when none of his other fantasies seemed to do the trick. Sure, she was artificial, the creation of a doctor rather than nature—and overexposed, if not actually diseased—but she was the embodiment of every horny man's fantasy woman, and therefore completely perfect when he just wanted to get in there and get off.
Tonight, though, his thoughts centered on the Neptune High cheerleading squad. It wasn't the first time he'd imagined the six nubile girls naked in his bed with him. He'd have one on each side and one on his cock, and he'd direct the other three to make a nude pyramid for his amusement. Sometimes all six would jump up and down, their pompoms and their breasts jiggling in synchronized bounces.
Logan stroked himself slowly...he'd always liked to take his time. A quick jerk was okay if there wasn't time, for instance, between classes when the bell was about to ring and Carrie Bishop had been thrusting her boobs in his face for all of science class. But his preference was to develop an elaborate fantasy as he caressed himself—tortured himself if you got right down to it.
So tonight the girls of the Neptune High cheerleading squad were having a pillow fight in his bedroom, and one of the girls, Katie Keenan, crawled onto the bed on her hands and knees and smiled at him invitingly. He could hear Michelle Thompson giggling as Amy Esparza tickled her. Even Meg was getting into it, smacking a pillow onto Shelly Pomroy's ass as Laura Hildebrand did a headstand on her pillow, her little skirt flipping down as she pointed her legs to the sky.
As the feathers flew around him, he flipped up Katie's cute little cheerleader skirt, pulled down her matching spangled briefs, and lodged himself in her welcoming vagina with a smooth, experienced thrust. She threw back her head and moaned her delight as he plowed her. Logan grasped her hips and began to fuck her hard. Ah...ah...ah...she was groaning, really loving it.
And then she turned her head...and it was motherfucking Veronica, her blonde hair escaping her ponytail in wisps around her face and her lips swollen and pouting. "Kiss me, Logan."
He sat up with a gasp, dropping his cock. No! No freakin' way. He shook his head, willing the image to dissipate.
No cheerleaders tonight.
He dismissed the squad and sent them home with stern orders to practice their gymnastic routines for his future pleasure.
It was time to bring out the big guns. Logan slipped in disc four from season two of his 'Alias' box set and cued up the first episode, turning up the volume.*
'Back in Black' vibrated the speakers as Jennifer Garner emerged from a doorway, clad in skimpy black lingerie, with a garter belt and stockings and a riding crop.
Back in black
I hit the sack
I've been too long,
I'm glad to be back
Yeah, I'm let loose...
Jennifer tapped the riding crop on her palm as Logan massaged himself with a tight fist. The fat dude waved her off, and she changed into the same scanty outfit in brilliant vermilion. Again, she strutted down the narrow hallway, those perfect boobs, firm in the lacy red demi bra, those abs, athletic but oh-so-feminine, those shapely legs, strong yet flexible, with incredible promise for contortionistic positions designed to drive a teenage boy completely insane. Hanging onto the doorjamb, Jennifer pouted for her audience. And then she walked across the room and leaned over, looking out the window with the camera focused on her backside.
Nice ass, he thought, as he always did. His fingers constricted and sped up. Hey, hey, hey, hey, Ozzie screamed, and Logan agreed wholeheartedly. Hey, hey, indeed!
Then the view shifted, to the woman lying on the bed, casually running her fingers down her torso. And it was fricking Veronica again, her hair pulled back, with little tendrils over her face, her eyes and full lips accented by makeup and a definite come-hither expression on her face.
"Fuck me!" he muttered.
Maybe he was going crazy, but he thought he heard fantasy-Veronica say exactly the same thing.
He snapped off the DVD player, 'Back in Black' suddenly silenced, and lay in bed breathing hard.
Would it really be so bad to fantasize about her? Sure, she was a slut—an unloyal slut, to be specific. But she wasn't exactly unattractive.
And red lingerie would definitely be a plus. Even better than that cheerleader's uniform from today.
He closed his eyes. He knew exactly what Veronica looked like...and what she would look like in red lingerie. The four of them had been to the beach enough times when he'd scoped her out in her bikini. Hey, you gotta look! As if there was a teenage boy in the world who wouldn't look at another girl in a bikini, even if you were dating the hottest girl at Neptune High, and even if the other girl was dating your best friend.
Of course, Veronica's bathing suit could have been a little skimpier, to his taste, more like Lilly's...Lilly's huge, bouncy breasts were always threatening to spill out of her one-size-too-small, high-cut swimsuit with a plunging neckline. One memorable time, they did spill out, in fact. Lilly had just laughed, thrusting her naked boobs out as if she'd meant for it to happen...and she probably had.
Logan turned on his side and imagined that Veronica, clad in the skimpy red lingerie, was lying on the couch facing his bed. His fantasy girl ran her hand down her torso, lingering on her breast, and pouted at him.
Okay, she's not allowed to talk in this fantasy, he decided. As long as Veronica keeps her mouth shut, she's allowed to stay.
She motioned to him with her index finger, indicating that he should come closer. Logan stood up and went to her on the couch. Veronica pushed her breasts together with her palms and made a kissy-face toward him. And he leaned down and kissed her moist lips as he unclasped her bra to release her breasts that he knew just ached for his touch.
He was quite hard right about then, his hand moving rhythmically on his cock.
And then, magically, she was naked underneath him, the red lingerie gone, except of course for the garter belt and stockings which framed the junction of her creamy white thighs. He didn't waste any time figuring out the exact logistics of how he would have removed her panties without taking off the garter belt. Logan had more important things to think about, mainly two soft globes with petite, erect nipples, and sparse, blonde hair between her legs, a little curly...trimmed, not a Brazilian like Lilly...that promised...oh god...oh god...
He closed his hand on his cock into a tight fist, and began thrusting his hips to simulate fucking. His heart began to beat furiously, blood pumping through his veins, and he felt that telltale tingle in his pelvis that meant he was close.
Veronica's legs spread wide open, and he saw her glistening, reddened and ready for him. He situated himself between her thighs and pushed her legs up onto his shoulders. His cock seemed to fit perfectly in her cunt, and she began to make adorable little moans, thrashing about under him. His hands fit perfectly around her breasts, the little nipples poking up and rubbing against his palms.
He fucked her with deep thrusts as she panted his name. She arched underneath him and...
Logan came all over his hand.
Huh. That was weird.
Before Logan left for school, he found a thermometer and took his temperature, convinced he must be coming down with something.
98.6°. Okay. Not sick. But something was definitely wrong with the world. He was pretty sure he'd had a dream last night, well, more like a nightmare, with Ronnie and him making out in the backseat of the X-Terra. Vagina dentata, probably. His balls shriveled a little just thinking about it.
When he got to school, it was like Armageddon had begun. Logan walked down the halls, curiously eyeing the couples that were breaking up with loud arguments, boys taunting girls about sexual acts, girls defiantly denying the accusations...something was definitely up.
"Dude..." Logan grabbed Dick's arm. "What the hell?" He looked around quizzically.
"The purity test."
"The purity test...remember? We were talking about it yesterday."
Now he remembered, some ridiculous online quiz that everyone had been taking. He'd been so focused on Veronica and her crazy cheerleader outfit that...
Dick was still talking. "You can buy the results of anyone's test, ten dollars a pop. Dude, it's sick...you won't believe what some of these girls have done. They act like they've never seen a penis before, but really they're a buncha cock-lovin' cum guzzlers."
And apparently, everyone had bought a lot of test results, Logan noted. Teachers were separating fights that had broken out over cheating girlfriends and boyfriends, with lots of hair-pulling and name-calling, and Clemmons was wandering the halls looked shell-shocked. Over by the lockers, Cole and Meg were having it out in a very public argument. "Saint Meg took the purity test?"
Dick nodded. "48, can you believe it? I'm so disillusioned."
Logan huffed. "No way."
He listened as Cole said loudly, "It all makes sense, every question here. You turned me into a joke! Thanks."
Logan watched as Cole walked away, and then Veronica approached and comforted Meg. So they were still hanging out. Veronica's friends had just doubled, to two.
He noted, too, that today she was wearing a cute little cropped jeans jacket layered over a t-shirt, with a demure brown plaid skirt. She'd pulled her hair back with a little girl's barrette, and the whole outfit seemed designed to give the impression that she was trying to repair the damage from the day before by trying to look virginal and innocent. Fat chance, he thought. Somebody walked by and distinctly said 'slut' in Meg's direction, and Meg looked like she was going to cry. And Veronica was hellacious pissed on her behalf.
Something about seeing Veronica angry, with fire in her eyes, made his cock jump a little in his jeans. Logan discreetly adjusted himself, and turned back to Dick. "What about Ronnie? What'd she get on the the purity test?"
Dick rolled his eyes. "Like you have to ask? 14. I think that's the lowest you can get and not actually be burning in hell."
For a moment, Logan flashed on Ronnie in brilliant red lingerie with a riding crop, flames behind her, highlighting her assets. He shook his head to clear the image. "Why was she wearing Meg's cheerleading outfit yesterday, anyways?"
"I dunno. Because she likes it freaky?"
"Ask around, okay? Don't say that it's me who wants to know."
"Sure. Whatever. Later."
At lunch, Dick clunked his tray onto the table and straddled the chair. He leaned closer to Logan and spoke in a confidential tone. "Check it out. You know how Veronica told Ashley that her dad was having an affair? Ashley decided to get a little revenge during gym class. While Ronnie was in the shower, Ashley opened up her locker and dumped all of Ronnie's clothes in the toilet."
"Nice. How'd Ashley get the combo to Ronnie's locker?"
Logan was starting to have an idea...a deliciously evil idea. Vengeance would be sweet, and he liked the symmetry of using her locker the way she'd used his. But first it required some intel. He looked around the lunch area and spotted Ashley seated at a table with a couple other 09er girls. "Catch ya later, Dick."
It wasn't hard to get Ashley to go on a date with him on Sunday, a couple nights later. And between first and second base, she told him that she was Coach Farrell's student aide, and that the coach had a list of everyone's locker numbers and their combinations on a clipboard in the bottom drawer of her desk. And as Logan was rounding third, Ashley promised to procure Veronica's new locker combination on Monday morning, just as the gym class was going to begin a new unit: swimming.
Even after Ashley hauled his ashes in the X-terra that night, Logan still took himself in hand again when he went to bed. By now, Veronica had become a nightly bedtime ritual. A black leather dominatrix outfit...Catholic schoolgirl, complete with rolled-waist plaid skirt and ruffled panties peeking out beneath...an extremely formfitting and low-cut nurse's uniform...all sorts of lingerie...Veronica had become the star of a series of debauched fantasies.
Tonight, he put her in a short kimono, with her hair pulled back and two chopsticks protruding from a bun, and the robe just barely concealing her ass as she approached, hands demurely poised in a prayerful position. Veronica Mars, geisha girl. A blonde geisha girl to be sure, but otherwise shy and respectful, and just what the doctor ordered after a long night of kissing Ashley's ass, both literally and figuratively.
As he grasped his cock with a smooth up and down motion, he ordered Veronica to start by massaging his feet and sucking his toes. Then he flipped over onto his stomach and had her work on his back, paying special attention to his tight shoulder muscles—cramped from trying to satisfy the demanding Ms. Banks in the backseat— and then, when he was completely relaxed, he asked Veronica to rub his ass.
Such a cute and submissive giggle as her hand caressed him, a little tentatively, and then she began to explore the sensitive area between his legs...Logan slid his hand over his cock as his fantasy shyly said, "Mr. Logan...turn over, please." He imagined his thick pole pointing sky-high as she tittered in embarrassment, and, to be frank, not a little awe at his superior endowment. Logan pulled at the sash on her robe, and surprise, surprise...she was naked under there.
With a broad smile, Logan noted, "I believe I paid for a happy ending." So Veronica climbed on top of him and hoisted herself onto Rodzilla. He pulled at the chopsticks in her little bun, and her hair tumbled down over her face as she worked adorably at getting him off.
He was so enjoying his vision of her that he slowed his hand, stroking his whole length from base to tip and changing to an upside-down grip that put pressure on a completely different part of his cock. Veronica was by now writhing on top of him, in the throes of her fifth, or was it her sixth?, orgasm, just from his massive love-tool and his expert pelvic thrusts.
Veronica, in his fantasy—Logan, in reality—fumbled for his balls, blushing fiercely as she encountered them and cupped them the way he liked, with just the right amount of pressure. "Yeah, just like that, baby," he crooned, as he caressed himself, his fist working intensely at his cock.
He spurted all over his hand, groaning out loud.
Yeah, he was really looking forward to the next morning. This was going to be good.
Later that night, Logan had a dream, reliving an old memory that always made him smile, until he remembered what had happened a couple weeks later.
It was well after midnight, after the Homecoming Dance that they didn't really go to, and he was walking down the beach, hand in hand with her. A bottle of Cristal, three-quarters drunk, was in his other hand. They'd left their shoes at the limo, and the damp sand felt sensuous between their toes.
They were quiet, for once, no lancing wit, no wild double entendres. Her hand swung in his as they walked in the blackness, with the surf gently rumbling a few feet away. She held the hemline of her sophisticated gold dress up out of the wet sand, and as they walked, he admired how comfortable she was with her erotic beauty and thought about how lucky he was.
A log on the beach up ahead, perfect for sitting and watching the sea—he saw it and pulled her toward it. Logan settled on the sand with his back against the log. He knew there'd be hell to pay tomorrow about the champagne and sand on his dad's tux, but for right now, he didn't care. She drew her designer gown around her and settled in between his legs, leaning back against his chest. They shared the champagne, finishing it off and then digging the bottle into the sand beside them, like a symbol that they'd been here: X marks the spot where two lovers sat.
Logan's arm cuddled her, and they stayed sitting like that for a long time, in complete silence, just letting the rhythmic sound of the waves wash over them. It felt astonishingly good. For once in his life, someone loved him just for him, not for his dad. He pulled his fingers through her hair, playing with it, just because he loved to touch her. Usually he'd be trying to pull that dress off her, but right now it felt amazing just to hug her, just to breathe in the scent of her.
She turned her head to look at him. Veronica said, "It's perfect, isn't it?"
And Logan sat upright in the bed and screamed. "ARRRRGGGH!" He panted, trying to catch his breath, and pulled violently at his hair. His head shook back and forth, as he attempted to rid himself of the distressing image.
For once, his mom's Ambien and vodka nightcap hadn't knocked her out completely, and she came running into his room. "What's wrong, honey?"
Now he was embarrassed, and more than a little nervous. "I didn't wake him up, did I?"
"It's okay, he's asleep. Don't be silly. What's wrong?"
Logan knew it wouldn't have been okay at all if he'd interrupted Aaron's beauty sleep. "A nightmare, a terrible nightmare."
"Yeah. The usual." There was no way in hell he was going to tell her what had really happened in the dream. That was completely psycho. "You know, I haven't been feeling good lately."
His mother put the back of her hand on his brow. "Hmm. You don't feel hot."
"I'm just kinda achy." He laid it on thick, and sniffled a bit. You don't grow up with two actors and not learn something about playing a role. And this was perfect for his plan. "We're starting swimming in gym tomorrow."
"You want me to write you a note?"
Logan hung his head, clinching the deal. "I don't want to miss swimming, it's the best unit in gym class."
"No, absolutely not, Logan Edward Echolls! No gym for you tomorrow. I'll write the note now and leave it on the kitchen counter, in case I'm still asleep in the morning." She kissed his forehead, laying her hand on it one more time, and swept out of the bedroom in a haze of chiffon, Chanel No. 5, and Stoli.
In the office, Logan presented his mother's note to Wallace Fennel with ostentatious flicks of his fingers. "Ah, Veronica's beard. I won't be joining you in gym class today. More's the pity." He read upside-down in the attendance roster that Meg was out sick today, which was perfect for his plans. Everything was falling into place.
"'Logan isn't feeling well, and I'd like him not to participate in swimming class today. Thank you, Lynn Echolls,'" Wallace read aloud. "Pretty sure you need a doctor's note."
"Pretty sure I don't. Say 'hi' to Van for me." Logan breezed out of the office, confident that there wouldn't be a problem with his mother's excuse.
Ashley did her part and delivered the combination to Veronica's locker. She held up her mouth, expecting a kiss, and Logan smirked. "I'll call you." He gave her a little wave and walked away.
He turned around and blew her a kiss. "Love ya, sweetie." She scowled, and ducked back into the girls' locker room for class.
Turning back around, Logan rolled his eyes and decided that Ashley was definitely way too high-maintenance, anyway. Checking his watch, he gave them ten minutes to change and five minutes to head out to the pool, and then he looked around for any prying eyes and entered the girls' locker room.
He was waiting for Veronica outside the locker room forty-two minutes later, two minutes after the first bell had rung. She saw him and all the color drained out of her face.
"Looking for these?" Logan showed her the white silk panties he'd liberated from her locker. "It's so adorable! They say 'Veronica' on the waist band. And little pink hearts!"
"Lilly gave me those," she said, and then she clamped her mouth shut.
He wondered if she regretted rising to his bait. She had on one of her cute little jeans skirts and her butch boots. And it was perfect: she was going to be panty-less for the rest of the day, and he intended to make the most of it. The name on the underwear was a bonus, and he wondered if there was any way he could make use of it.
"Please give me my underwear," Veronica said quietly.
"Feeling a little breezy?"
"Why didn't you ask one of the other girls if you could borrow a pair?"
She seethed. He was pretty sure that hell would freeze over before she'd ask one of her enemies for a pair of underwear, or even let them know that hers had been stolen.
Suddenly, she ran over to him and tried to grab the panties from his hand. But he had almost a foot on her, and it was ridiculously easy for him to hold them far up out of her reach. "Ronnie, people are starting to stare."
"Okay, fine. Enjoy my underwear. What's the big deal?"
"I thought it was kind of appropriate, you put something in my locker, and I take something OUT OF YOURS!" Now people were staring at his loud words, and he lowered his tone. "Maybe I'll tell every boy in school that you blew off your underwear today, so they'll all be trying to sneak a peek. Better hope you can keep your legs closed the rest of the day."
"I'll just go home sick."
"No, you won't. You have the midterm in Mrs. Murphy's AP English class last period. I heard Duncan talking about it...no makeups without a doctor's excuse. Which means...you'd have to tell your dad what happened. And if you do, I'm going to tell him about the bong."
"Like he'd believe you," she said scornfully.
Logan unfolded a piece of paper he had stuffed in his back pocket. "This is a copy of the arrest report. I think your dad might believe me if I show him this. Then he'll check with Clemmons and see that I was suspended for three days. And how did you explain those broken headlights on your car? I'm betting he has a few unanswered questions. He's a private investigator, right? No...I think you're going to tough it out. And I'm really going to enjoy it." He raised his fist holding her panties to his nose and breathed in deep.
He'd meant to do it just to aggravate her, but his cock had other ideas, swelling immediately against the fabric of his jeans. His brain was suddenly assaulted by an image of her spread out on his bed, with his mouth on the most intimate part of her...and she was mewling, frantically clutching at the sheets, moaning and arching as he...
Down, boy, he ordered himself, furious at his cock's treachery. He whirled around and got out of there before he embarrassed himself.
For the next period, their schedules diverged, with Logan heading off to English class and Veronica going to AP Calculus. But he convinced Mr. Daniels to let him leave a few minutes early, and he was waiting for her when she emerged from her classroom. She bit her lip, but pretended not to care as he fell in step with her as they walked together to chemistry.
"How's it going, Mars?" he asked, a laugh bubbling up.
"Oh, just peachy."
"I'm imagining you naked under that little skirt. Sheesh, have a little more self-respect, Ronnie."
"I'd like to shove some self-respect right up your—"
Van Clemmons stepped out in front of them. "Veronica. May I speak to you?"
Logan saluted and kept walking. The truth was he'd been picturing her sans underwear for the entire last period, and it was starting to get painful. He passed an empty classroom and hesitated. Mr. Wu was a bit of a hard ass about punctuality—he'd have to be quick about it.
Logan ducked into the classroom, practically unzipping as he shut the door. He imagined Veronica following him into the room, smiling shyly and informing him that she'd foregone panties just for him. With trembling hands, he'd draw up her skirt, touching those creamy thighs that would be quivering with excitement. And he'd reach for her, and she'd be so wet for him—after all, she'd been thinking about him all morning—her eyes would be locked on his as he stroked her back and forth, back and forth...she'd be gasping a little now, panting her pleasure.
He'd bend down and kiss her and...
Fuck. What the hell! Scratch that.
He'd bend her over, scootching that little jeans skirt up over her hips. Yeah, that's better.
The second bell rang, and he had to hurry up and rub one out as fast as possible. He fumbled in the teacher's desk for some kleenex and got the hell out of there, reaching chemistry just as Mr. Wu was shutting the door. As he passed Veronica's desk, he leaned over and said, "Clemmons tell you that you should always be wearing panties in school, Ronnie?"
"Not quite. He wants my dad to donate something for the school auction." She sniffed the air. "Wait...were you...? Oh god."
"You caught me. All this talk of loose women without their undies really does it for me."
He wouldn't be surprised if she puked right on his shoes. "Now that's quite a keen nose, Mars. How is it you know that particular scent, anyways? Tsk, tsk, tsk."
Veronica looked mortified.
Logan smiled and sat down a few desks away. For the rest of the class, he kept his eyes trained on her, well, as much as he could without aggravating Mr. Wu. She seemed to get more antsy as the period continued, her face consistently flushed and her crossed leg jiggling a little. Veronica stared straight ahead, refusing to look in his direction, yet he was quite sure she knew he was looking at her the entire time.
Mr. Wu was talking about DNA and gene research, off on one of his typical tangents, interesting only to himself and far from the prescribed curriculum. Logan raised his hand.
"Mr. Wu? I was wondering something about DNA." He glanced at Veronica, who was doing her best to ignore him. "I'm reading a mystery novel, and the detective finds a pair of women's underwear. Is it possible to test the underwear for the DNA of all the woman's partners?"
He watched her as she literally stopped breathing. Mr. Wu was going on about testing for different contributions to a sample, and the difficulties of making these determinations with any certainty.
Dick gave Logan a questioning glance, motioning at Ronnie, squirming in her chair and flushing deeply. "Psst. Dude...what the hell?"
"Just razzing her. You know how she thinks she's Miss Teen Detective."
Dick said, "I hear she's working on the Case of the Disappearing One-Eyed Snake." He bumped Logan's fist, and the two of them laughed hysterically.
Mr. Wu said sternly, "Boys, do you want to share something with the class?"
Logan replied lightly, "Oh, I definitely do." He pretended to pull something from his pocket, enjoying Veronica's look of terror.
Mr. Wu assessed her blazing red face and asked, "Veronica, do you need to go see the nurse?
"No, Mr. Wu, I'm okay," she mumbled, trying not to look at Logan.
When Mr. Wu called on Veronica later that period, she was still so flustered that she'd had to admit that she didn't know the answer. Logan was willing to bet that she didn't even know the question.
But he had to give her credit. She was toughing it out, like he'd thought she would. All the better to play with, my dear.
Logan continued watching Veronica at lunch, sitting alone with her legs sewn together and her cheeks still pink with embarrassment. She seemed to know that he was staring at her and kept her eyes facing forward.
Wallace sat down with her, and she seemed to relax slightly. Their heads bent together as they talked. Veronica went to bus her tray, and Wallace stood up and looked around the lunch area. His eyes met Logan's, and Wallace stomped over to the 09er table.
"What are you doing to her? She's acting completely demented today, and I think you're responsible. Something to do with your bullshit gym excuse from this morning."
"I'm betting you were part of it, weren't you? You helped her put the bong in my locker," Logan said flatly. "I'm not wrong, am I?"
"What? That's what this is about? You spent an hour in jail before your daddy bailed you out. And Weevil punched you—after you practically begged him to do it. Big deal! Veronica said all the charges were dropped, just the way she planned it. Why can't you drop this?"
"Oh, but it was a big deal."
"What, your daddy took your driving privileges away for a week? A three-day suspension, when you probably just hung out and played Halo and ate caviar? Boo-frickin'-hoo."
By this time, Veronica had made her way over to them, and she tugged on Wallace's sleeve. "Wallace, don't. Please don't."
Wallace pointed a finger at Logan. "I'm going to get you."
"You're gonna lose that finger, boy."
"BOY?" Wallace cried, infuriated.
Veronica grabbed his arm. "Wallace, come on now. We don't talk to the gorillas, it just makes them angrier."
The next period, they didn't have class together. Logan decided it was probably just as well, because his libido needed a break. What the hell was wrong with him that this was turning him on so much? This was supposed to be him, fucking with her.
But then there she was again, right in front of him for second to the last period, Mrs. Stewart's history class. Logan dropped his pencil three times, crawling close to Veronica's legs each time and trying to get a glimpse of uncharted territory. She glared at him and pretended to kick him, but he just smiled at her discomfiture.
Frustrated with the interruptions, the teacher stopped her lecture to call him out. "If you can't hold onto that pencil, then you'll need to bring it up here, Mr. Echolls."
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Stewart."
"Your pencil, Logan. Now."
"How can I take notes if you confiscate my pencil?"
"Bring it up here. You'll have to copy notes from someone else after class." As Logan shambled up to the front of the classroom, the teacher asked, "Let's see...Veronica Mars? Can you share your notes with Logan?"
Veronica looked stunned by the unfairness of the world. Finally, she stuttered, "My notes aren't that great today. Maybe someone else's?"
Turning back to the blackboard, Mrs. Stewart shook her head disapprovingly, and Logan grinned and walked back to his seat. When he passed by, Veronica threw him a scathing glance, and he showed her the edge of her white panties, just barely visible in his closed fist.
He whispered, "Mmm. Such pretty white panties. I wonder how much they'd go for on eBay? What do you think, Ronnie?" He took another ostentatious whiff of her silky underwear.
It was a terrible idea. He zoned out again at the scent of her, an immediate erection pressing hard against his leg. Now he was picturing her naked at her desk, her legs crossed and those cute little boobs pressed up against the writing surface...or maybe that Catholic schoolgirl uniform...yeah...Ronnie with pigtails, and Logan the teacher, spanking her tight little ass for chewing gum in class.
Appalled, she turned around and whispered back, "eBay! You wouldn't!"
Logan caught himself just in time. Repressing the urge to rub his crotch and adjust himself, he pulled himself back from the edge. He was really losing it, with all these crazy fantasies. "Uh...yeah, I would, Ronnie. eBay, for sure. And I'd send the link to the whole school."
"Logan, please!" Her pleading voice was just a little too loud.
Mrs. Stewart, her back turned, exclaimed, "Veronica! Is there a problem?"
"No, ma'am. Sorry." That old Mars sarcasm crept back into her voice. "Just a little cockroach here that needs to be taken care of."
"Logan. Can you help Veronica?"
Logan stood up and stepped over to Veronica's desk, and began stomping the floor viciously. Veronica flinched. He gave her a look of hatred, and then suddenly her face changed. It was almost as if she was thinking about something really puzzling.
Sean, Luke, and Dick swarmed Veronica as she headed back to her locker after the final period. He hadn't said a word to them, but like a pack of wild animals, they had somehow sensed his war against her and they were primed for the kill. They were a bunch of hyenas and she was the giraffe who refused to lie down and accept defeat.
Luke said, "Better hurry, Mars, you're gonna be late to your shift at the Seven Veils."
"C'mon, boys. A working girl's day is never done," she sighed dramatically. "Stanford isn't going to pay for itself, especially if you're earning it one crumpled dollar bill at a time."
He watched as she carefully smoothed her skirt over her ass, opened up her locker door, and pulled out the books she'd need for homework that night. In a way, he admired her for toughing it out, trying to act like nothing was wrong with his friends pressing in on her, when he knew just how bothered she was.
"Shake your moneymaker, Ronnie! Kah-CHOWW!" Dick proclaimed.
"Available for private pole dancing by appointment," Sean added.
Luke chimed in, "Better get her to take a bath in Lysol first."
Veronica looked down, as if examining Luke's crotch. "Is that your pole I see, Luke? Oh...I'm so sorry. Looks like the steroids have already shrunk your gonads. Unless...wait, were they that small to begin with?"
Luke was furious, and Dick and Sean were happy to take advantage of his embarrassment.
Veronica turned around and spotted Logan watching her. She approached and asked, "A word, in private?"
"Okay, I can do that," he announced magnanimously. Pulling her away from his crew, he leaned on a locker and regarded her with a supercilious expression.
"Logan. I am truly sorry about the bong. I apologize from the depths of my heart. Please, can we end this?"
He frowned. She actually sounded sincere.
"Logan, did you hear me? I'm really sorry." She swallowed. "I didn't realize. I mean, I didn't think— Did your dad...did...did he hurt you when I—"
"What are you talking about?" Logan retorted angrily.
"Nothing. Please, Logan. A cease fire?" She dropped her gaze. "You can keep the underwear if you want. Just..." Veronica motioned with her hands. "Please. Do you really hate me so much that you would keep doing this to me? You had your fun. I was miserable and uncomfortable all day."
"I'll tell you what. You come over to my house tonight. Around 7:00. We'll talk about it. Maybe I can show you your panties, listed on eBay. Starting bid...let's say...fifty cents."
As he walked away, he thought he heard her whisper, "What happened to you? You never used to be so cruel."
Once he hit his bedroom at the house, he jerked off quickly right away, to take the edge off. Logan still wasn't allowing himself to think about what might happen when she came over. He found her panties again and brought them to his face.
No one was watching. There was no one to catch him. So he breathed in the scent of Veronica Mars and let it insinuate itself into his brain. The panties stayed pressed to his face as his hand groped down.
He tried to conjure up the sexy nurse fantasy again, or even Veronica in Meg's cheerleading uniform. But all he could see was Veronica, naked, tumbling backward onto his bed, with her hair splaying around her head, and then a close-up: the skin of her neck; soft flesh between her breasts; miraculous pebbled nipples, erect and sensitive. A faint taste of sweat and soap...and then his lips kissing, his tongue licking, down, down, past her belly button, past the blonde curly hairs and...
Oh yeah. That slight protuberance, discreetly nestled in her thatch like hidden treasure...he'd so loved revving up Lilly. Veronica's clit was a little smaller, a little more delicate and really fucking beautiful. He pushed errant hair out of the way, exposed it with a gentle tug on her flesh, and flicked it with his tongue. And she practically arched herself into orbit.
Quiet little moans as he settled into a rhythm, her knees spread wide, encouraging him, and her fingers tangled in his hair. And she tasted so...fucking...good.
Oh, god, he missed this...there was something wrong with him that this was what he missed the most after Lilly died. Not the relentless fucking in every perverted position Lilly had ever heard of, but the moment when she surrendered to him.
He brought the panties down to his cock and wrapped the silk fabric around himself. The underwear was so satiny and soft, so incredibly tender against his skin. And the thought that the panties had been rubbing against her delicate parts eight hours earlier made him hard as a rock.
And then, in his head, he let Veronica climb on top of him, and her lips met his. Tongues battling, and an occasional tender bruising when teeth bumped into flesh. Her breath caught when his cock brushed against her center, and he reached up and turned them over, putting her beneath him. A soft caress of her inner thigh, and she opened to him again.
His fist sped up, the panties bunching and smoothing, luxurious, sexy. He imagined himself holding back, keeping every bit of control, making it last and last and last. She shuddered, and he kissed her again, his cock thrusting into her deeply, again and again, clenching, releasing.
His whole body was vibrating after such an unbelievable orgasm. Logan felt breathless and satiated, yet his hand kept stroking himself lightly, the sensuous fabric still tangled and wrapped around his spent cock. He lay back against the pillow and stared up at the ceiling.
There was something profoundly fucked-up about him, that was for sure.
As 7:00 approached, Logan stewed. He still wasn't sure exactly what he planned to do.
His parents were up in LA promoting Aaron's latest multimillion-dollar crap pile. Logan couldn't remember if it was called "The Longest Haul" or "Crimson Dawn 3", but he knew it was a sequel to one of Aaron's previous shitty films. They had all melted together into one giant reel of inappropriately young heroines and impossible action stunts, from which Aaron always emerged unscathed.
So he had the house alone. He heated up something to eat from the freezer and picked at it for a while before dumping it in the garbage disposal. His mother's Stoli bottle beckoned from the freezer, and Logan had a couple quick snorts.
At 6:58 the buzzer for the outside gate went off. He triggered the switch for her, and then a minute later, the doorbell rang, and he padded to the door and ushered her in. "Wow. Brownie points for punctuality, Mars."
Veronica stared at him, and he wondered if she was as uncertain as he was. It wasn't like her to be so tentative. He was used to her barreling in like a bull in a china shop, all self-confidence and bravado.
She was wearing jeans and a t-shirt now, and he was willing to bet she'd changed her clothes the moment she'd gotten home after school. He preferred the skirt she'd been wearing. But it was Veronica Mars...she'd look good in a brown paper grocery sack. He hated how beautiful she was, and how sensual, and how she was completely oblivious to her effect on men.
She stood ten feet away from him, rocking from one foot to the other. "Logan...I'm so sorry. I didn't realize he'd—"
"What? You didn't realize he'd what?"
He hated that she understood. "It doesn't matter. It's too late."
"It's not too late. We can go to the sheriff's department and—" She seemed to realize her mistake and her mouth clamped shut. "I wish...I wish my dad was still the sheriff."
"Yeah, Lamb would just come by and ask for a bigger contribution to the Police Athletic League."
"What about your mom? Can't you talk to her about it? I'm sure she'd—"
"She knows, Veronica. She's always known."
Veronica looked ill. "I'm so sorry I made it worse."
He shrugged. "If it wasn't the suspension, it would have been something else." Suddenly her look of pity really, really pissed him off. "D'you want your underwear back or not? Let's get this over with. Your attempt at sympathy is barely convincing."
Her mouth opened and closed twice, before she finally whispered, "What do I have to do?"
He didn't know he was going to say it until the words spilled out. "I want a kiss." Logan pulled the underwear, slightly more soiled than they had been, out of his pocket and dangled them for her to see. "Or else I'll put 'em up on eBay. Now that they've got my DNA on them too"—she looked appalled at that—"I think they'll sell pretty quickly. Come on, Ronnie. Make it count. We all know you're experienced."
She bit her lip and walked over to him. To his surprise, he was frightened. He hardened his heart and gazed at her balefully.
He leaned down. Veronica pressed her lips to his, and he exploded. Grabbing her with strong arms, he pulled her into him, his crotch grinding against hers and his tongue forcing itself between her lips. His hand found its way into her tresses, pressing her lips relentlessly against his as he explored her mouth with his tongue. He could hear little moans and he realized they were coming from his own throat.
His cock was as hard as it'd ever been, a wild animal caged only by the two thicknesses of jeans that separated it from its prey. He pushed his pelvis into her, not caring what she thought of him for acting this way.
She stiffened in his arms, and then by some miracle, she relaxed. The tentative tip of her tongue sought out his—just the slightest encouragement, but it made him wonder. He wished he had the guts to talk to her, to tell her...what? What exactly would he tell her?
Instead, he kissed her neck: wet, sloppy smacks, hungry, as if he couldn't ever get enough. Logan heard her hot little breaths panting in his ear, and he could have sworn his cock got even harder. Licking her earlobe, he thought she tasted completely different from what he'd imagined, but absolutely how Veronica Mars should taste. She smelled of shampoo and soap, a fruity smell he thought might be a perfume, and an unmistakable musk that was an electrical charge to his pelvis.
Her taser hadn't done nearly as much damage to him as her undefinable essence. Veronica's effect on him was cranked all the way to "11", and he wasn't sure if it was possible to recover from the shock to his system.
You know...he'd always thought that fireworks stuff was bullshit.
Finally, he needed air, and he released her, gasping a little. Veronica looked at him, her face unreadable. Shock? Terror? Maybe...? She stayed frozen for a moment before turning and running out of the house without a word. He heard the door slam.
Well, that's that, I guess.
The underwear lay on the floor next to Logan, where they'd fallen unheeded. He snatched them up and put them to his nose again. Logan stumbled to the couch and collapsed.
He'd lost track of time. It could have been eight or midnight. He was pretty sure it was still Monday.
The doorbell rang again, and she was there, hands in her back pockets, probably because she didn't know what to do with them. Logan turned around and walked back into the living room, not paying attention to her. He heard the door shut, and then he realized he'd forgotten and left the gate wide open—that's why she hadn't had to buzz again. So there were probably paparazzi making themselves at home in the trees on the grounds. By the light switch was another switch that caused all the curtains in the room to open or close as one. It seemed prudent to close the curtains just in case. He'd call security to come check out the property when she left.
"Forget something?" Logan scooped up the underwear from the couch and threw them at her. She caught them before they hit her in the face.
"You can't just kiss a girl like that and not say anything," she protested.
"Watch me." He threw himself back down on the couch, where he'd been ensconced for god knows how long.
"...Okay then. I guess I'll go. I'm sorry again, about the bong."
He made a gesture like he was shooing a fly, and she took the hint and walked back to the entrance. Heaving himself up, he followed her. As soon as she was gone, he'd lock the gates and start a serious wallow.
But she turned, five feet from the door, and walked over to him and, on tippy-toes, kissed him again. Hard. Like she meant it. And then she mumbled against his lips, "Logan...Logan." Her hands flailed as she tried to grab his hands, finally succeeding, twisting her little fingers in his. Another kiss, but it was lighter, and he thought she might be losing her courage. She pulled back and stared him in the eye. Her wan smile collapsed, and she looked like she might start to cry.
"Veronica," he whispered. Logan laced his fingers in hers and walked her backward. He pressed her up against the wall and pushed her arms up high over her head to control her. Nuzzling her neck, he whispered, "You came back."
"I came back."
"Not just for your panties."
Logan stared at her, his face inches from hers.
She sighed dramatically. "Kiss me, you jackass."
And he did, and it was really spectacular.
But 'jackass'—he couldn't let her get away with that. "I'm sorry, Mars, we're going to have to do a panty check." And he popped the button on her jeans, and to his delight, she didn't pull away from his hand.
"Logan? ...I'm not wearing any."
*If you want to watch the video Logan is describing, it's on youtube with the following identifier: fyw8m5dfa4o
The 'Alias' episode is called "Phase One".