Ficlet: A Neptune Fairytale, WeeVer, rated M
14. Kiss on the neck, Weevil/Veronica for helsinkibaby
Veronica presses closer and he rewards her with a burst of speed, the road flashing underneath them as they swoop their way up towards the headland, Neptune behind them for now. Her hands are toying with his belt buckle, and her breath is hot on his neck, triggering a thousand sense memories they’d be safer not reliving at 60 miles an hour on the PCH.
She’s got her face tucked down against his neck, the little half helmet cold against his ears, but her need to be close warming him from within. He’d always thought of her as prickly, before, punchy and aloof as she stalked about the school aiming her one-liners at anyone who dared cross her, so this girl, who slides her hand into his back pocket whenever they walk together and likes to tangle her legs with him in bed comes as a surprise.
Then he remembers the sweet, smiley kid she’d been before Lilly, the one he’d never really had the chance to get to know. Maybe that girl hadn’t died with her best friend, the way everyone thought. Maybe the other Veronica had simply been hiding away, waiting for someone to kiss her back to life. He’ll only admit it to himself in moments like this, lost in the gentle bliss of the bike between his thighs and a hot wind in his face, or those hazy last cuddles before sleep, but there’s something about Veronica Mars that makes him believe crazy shit like that. One look that face glowing with love and trust, and he’s half convinced that he could be her prince, and Neptune could be some fairytale.
Course, it’d have to be a pretty dark and grungy one, and a lot of people would swear Veronica was the wicked witch rather than the fairytale princess, but he’s okay with that. Loves it, in fact, that they think that’s all she is, that barbed wit and ever-calculating brain that never turns off.
Don’t get him wrong, he loves going toe-to-toe with her and watching those blue-green eyes slowly catch alight with the joy of the fight, loves it so much that they often have to find a closet after, anything that will let him worship that fighting spirit by slamming her up against the wall as her fingernails tear holes in his skin. But it’s not the fight he’s thinking of as he sinks into the hot welcome he finds inside, or the long moment of peace that descends after, before they head back out into the fray. It’s his sweet girl, princess Veronica, queen of his heart.
… who is feathering her lips along the edge of his jaw, so soft, so sweet, until she finds the magically sensitive skin underneath, and catches it between her teeth. He jumps on the accelerator in shock, pushing them up past 90 as his cock bolts from half hard to fully in the game.
“Gonna get us killed, chica,” he groans, but she just giggles in his ear as she undoes his belt buckle and top button, then slips her hand inside.
“You just watch the road. Let me drive stick,” she purrs, and strokes him with her fingertips, sliding around the head and underneath as far as she can reach before moving back to enclose him in her fist. The bike threatens to skid into the verge as he closes his eyes in delight, but she immediately lets go of him. “Uh, uh. Think of it as our version of Speed – you slow down, I stop.”
Stopping, he wants to point out, would be the smart thing to do, Miss I’m-smarter-than-you. But his little brain is suddenly in charge when she fists him again, hard but slow. His speed levels out, and the next pass of her hand is faster, then faster still as he stomps on the gas.
He pushes the bike back up into the 60s, steadying off when she’s jerking him fast enough to leave him on the edge of madness, but not so fast he won’t get a few long minutes to enjoy it. They fly along the highway, his eyes fixed to the line ahead, body braced to keep the damn thing steady, the rest of him coiled in expectation of the oncoming bliss. Her lips are back at his neck, feathery kisses giving way to long wet licks, and he knows instinctively what’s she’s going to do, his fairytale princess.
Her hand tightens to the point of pain and she yanks him mercilessly, just as she leans over to bite down hard. Her teeth break the flesh in a surge of ohfuckyessogood, and the extra layer of sensation lodges at the base of his spine, exploding into his cock into paroxysm of ridiculous proportions. She strokes him through it, gentle now, then pulls her hand out of his leather pants with a final pat to his exhausted cock.
“Boom goes the dynamite,” he hears her say, the smirk in her voice loud and clear, and he can only shake his head and let the speed drop off to the point of laziness as they crest the bluff, the lights of Neptune twinkling gorgeously in the distance.
Definitely a fairytale, Eli smiles to himself, his body humming with the beauty of the night, and the view, and the woman behind him. Maybe less Disney and more Raymond Chandler, but it’s their goddamn fairytale and they wouldn’t have it any other way.
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