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dangermousieTitle: Perfect, 1/1
Fandom: Veronica Mars
Summary: Kendall Casablancas loves her life.
Disclaimer: Don't own, no profit...
A/N: Kendall and Logan, 401 words. Spoilers for 2.01.
Kendall Casablancas loves her life. She loves the chauffeur, and the parties, and the house big enough to need a map. She loves sitting by the pool, and the taste of margaritas in the morning, and the ritual of her credit card handed across the counter in an expensive shop.
She likes Big Dick, who is certainly nothing if not thorough, in business and in bed. She likes parading in the skimpiest bikini she can find in front of her stepchildren, who are certainly nothing if not friendly. She likes the looks the gardener gives her as she leans down from her window in the morning, only half-dressed.
True, she is slightly bored on weekday afternoons, but hey, happiness comes with a price tag and no happiness is perfect. And she always finds ways to amuse herself, after all.
When she walks down to the pool one random morning, there is no one there but that mouthy friend of her children. With no one around, he is quiet for a change. He stares at the water as if he can uncover something in it, and from the look on his face, whatever he's thinking isn't pleasant. Not that is matters to her, of course. She is not interested in soul-searching or problems, and a strange kid is no exception to the rule.
He's not bad-looking though, and the afternoon is hot and long, and her shopping is done for the day. She decides to take a risk, but it's a small one. Teenage lust is so easy to spot. Besides, better him than Dick.
She walks over to where he is sitting and leans over. He is startled but surprise quickly slides into knowledge as she kisses him, hard. He kisses her back, and she discovers he is more experienced than she would have thought, and she is pleased. When she breaks off the kiss to take off her bikini top, she has a momentary impression that he looks lost. Vulnerable. She shrugs it off. She is hot and he is young. His private concerns are (thankfully) none of hers. Her top is on the ground next to his chair and she kisses him again. Tongue this time. His hands slide on her back (sun lotion, smooth skin, clever fingers) and she is much less bored.
He'll definitely do, she thinks as his hands drift lower. Perfect happiness? Does it matter?
Fandom: Veronica Mars
Summary: Kendall Casablancas loves her life.
Disclaimer: Don't own, no profit...
A/N: Kendall and Logan, 401 words. Spoilers for 2.01.
Kendall Casablancas loves her life. She loves the chauffeur, and the parties, and the house big enough to need a map. She loves sitting by the pool, and the taste of margaritas in the morning, and the ritual of her credit card handed across the counter in an expensive shop.
She likes Big Dick, who is certainly nothing if not thorough, in business and in bed. She likes parading in the skimpiest bikini she can find in front of her stepchildren, who are certainly nothing if not friendly. She likes the looks the gardener gives her as she leans down from her window in the morning, only half-dressed.
True, she is slightly bored on weekday afternoons, but hey, happiness comes with a price tag and no happiness is perfect. And she always finds ways to amuse herself, after all.
When she walks down to the pool one random morning, there is no one there but that mouthy friend of her children. With no one around, he is quiet for a change. He stares at the water as if he can uncover something in it, and from the look on his face, whatever he's thinking isn't pleasant. Not that is matters to her, of course. She is not interested in soul-searching or problems, and a strange kid is no exception to the rule.
He's not bad-looking though, and the afternoon is hot and long, and her shopping is done for the day. She decides to take a risk, but it's a small one. Teenage lust is so easy to spot. Besides, better him than Dick.
She walks over to where he is sitting and leans over. He is startled but surprise quickly slides into knowledge as she kisses him, hard. He kisses her back, and she discovers he is more experienced than she would have thought, and she is pleased. When she breaks off the kiss to take off her bikini top, she has a momentary impression that he looks lost. Vulnerable. She shrugs it off. She is hot and he is young. His private concerns are (thankfully) none of hers. Her top is on the ground next to his chair and she kisses him again. Tongue this time. His hands slide on her back (sun lotion, smooth skin, clever fingers) and she is much less bored.
He'll definitely do, she thinks as his hands drift lower. Perfect happiness? Does it matter?
