Tiana (__tiana__) wrote,

Fic: Jasmine Mars, L.M.T. (Logan/Veronica)

Wow, talk about cutting it close. I took the last extension of the deadline to post for the Masquerade challenge over at loveathons as a sign that I should blow off my grad school project for a few hours and finish this smutty little fic. Not sure I read that sign right, but oh well.

Title: Jasmine Mars, L.M.T.
Author: Tiana
Pairing/Character: Logan/Veronica
Word Count: 4173
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Veronica is undercover as a licensed massage therapist. Logan pops in for a surprise visit. Set in a fictional Season 2 where they are together.
Disclaimer: Rob Thomas lets me take them out of the box and do dirty things with them, but they go home with him at the end of the day.
Notes: Written for the loveathons Masquerade challenge

My time is at a serious premium right now, so please forgive typos. I will come back to fix any and all. Thanks for reading!

Veronica looks up when she hears the sound of wind chimes clanging against each other. The signal that the door is opening is usually more soothing than jarring, but when she sees who is coming in, it makes perfect sense. She darts from around the counter and up to the smirking young man, who is taking in the view with interest.

“What are you doing here?” Veronica hisses at Logan.

He ignores Veronica’s tone of voice, instead grinning at her and the outfit she’s wearing. “Heard you were here.”

“Did not. Nobody knows I’m here.” Veronica bites back a smile at his comment.

“A little bird told me.”

“No birds know I’m here, either. Damn it, Logan.”

“Fine. I saw your car. Here. In front of what appears to be a massage parlour. And you know, since you didn’t ask, I’ve been having this pain right about here.” Logan rubs his neck, grimacing. He leans in, voice low. “I think it’s from making out with my girlfriend, honestly. She’s incredibly short and I’m always bending my neck at this severe angle to...”

“You better not finish that sentence if you know what’s good for you.” She holds up one hand. “Wait. Just don’t finish that sentence. I already know you have no idea what’s good for you.” Veronica puts her hands on her hips. “And I’m petite, not incredibly short.”

“Tomato, to-mah-to.”

Veronica scowls up at Logan. “You’re going to blow my cover. It’s time for you to -“

“Is there a problem, Jasmine?”

Veronica freezes and inwardly curses Logan for being so damn distracting. Her new ‘boss’ has appeared at her side. Logan smiles at the statuesque brunette, before turning back to Veronica.

“No, no. Of course not, Ms. Parker. This gentleman is just lost. He is looking for the...surf shop. Right, sir?” Veronica widens her eyes, silently demanding his agreement.

Logan smiles at Veronica, ignoring her vehement glare. “Well, I was, but this lovely young lady - Jasmine, is it? - has just explained the wonders of a Swedish massage. So, I think a change of plans is in order.” Logan focuses his attention on Ms. Parker.

“Ah, wonderful. Jasmine, I know you are free. You can take Mr...?”


Ms Parker nods knowingly at Logan. “Of course. Jasmine will take you now.”

“Just what I was hoping for.” Logan’s grin makes Veronica blush faintly pink.

Veronica gapes at him, her back still to Ms. Parker.

“Jasmine?” Ms. Parker’s voice is growing impatient.

Veronica jumps slightly and then plasters on a toothy grin. “Of course. Right this way, Mr. Smith.” She pivots on her heel sharply and leads Logan to her private workroom.

Logan follows her in and closes the door behind him. Veronica turns on him suddenly, making him step back in surprise.

“Logan. What are you doing here?”

“I told you. My neck hurts. Think I slept on it funny.”

Veronica rolls her eyes, putting one hand on her hip. It slips off suddenly.

“Vinyl does tend to be slippery.”

“Not funny. It’s the uniform. And it’s not vinyl...it’s just shiny.”

“And what a uniform it is, Jasmine.” Logan tilts his head to the side and slides his gaze down over the short, white dress. He takes special note of the way it clings to her hips right before it flares out and ends just below mid-thigh. “A bit impractical, isn’t it?”

Veronica purses her lips, cocking her head to one side. “Not at all. The oil doesn’t stain this fabric-like material. Wipes right off.”

“Oil?” Logan’s voice breaks slightly.

“Massage oil.”

“Of course. Massage oil. Because you’re a...”

“Fully licensed and bonded massage therapist.” Veronica nods.

“Since when?”

“Since I made the id card which says I am.”

“Are you actually massaging people? Don’t they notice you don’t know how?”

Veronica smiles slowly. “Who says I don’t know how? Besides, the outfit tends to distract them from my technique. Or lack thereof.”

“Veronica...” Logan’s face clouds slightly.

She takes a step closer. “Jealous?”

“I don’t love the idea of my girlfriend rubbing down other men. Call me crazy.”

“You are jealous.”

Logan just frowns.

Veronica shakes her head. “I have not given a single man a massage since I started working here - oh, four hours ago. Scout’s honor.” Veronica holds up two fingers as she promises.

“And why are you working - ”

“I mean, there was that one woman...”

“Whoa. Hold the phone, your horses and everything else. You massaged another woman?”


“In that outfit?”


“With oil?”


“Was she naked?”

“Barring a small towel, yes.”

“I need to be excused for a minute.”

Veronica stifles a laughs, slaps him lightly on the arm. “Logan!”

“I’m sorry, but when a guy has one of his fantasies fulfilled, it takes a minute to regain his composure.”

“You can regain your composure at home in the shower like most guys. Now sit down.”

Logan hops up on the massage table and starts to unbutton his shirt.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Taking off my shirt. Veronica, for a P.I., your observation skills could use a little sharpening.”

“I can see that, Logan. But why, exactly?”

“For my massage? Wow, and your undercover work is also a bit spotty.”

“I am not giving you a massage.”

Logan mock pouts. “Why not? Did I mention the neck pain and the really short girlfriend thing?”

“I am working undercover for my Dad. And his explicit instructions were to avoid massaging any men at all costs. Get the money shot, get out. That’s all.”

“But I’m not just any guy. I’m your boyfriend.”

“And believe me, that puts you even higher on the list of People To Not Massage as made by my Dad.”

Logan sighs, starts to re-button his shirt. “So, what’s the job?”

Veronica hops up on the table next to him, causing her skirt to rise up to near indecency. Logan swallows and looks away, willing himself to concentrate on her words and not her legs.

“Client’s husband has been getting ‘physical therapy’ here for months for a golf injury.” Veronica’s air quotes on ‘physical therapy’ make Logan chuckle. “He says the massage is helping him work out the kinks, but she thinks he’s probably just working out his kinks, if you get what I mean.”

“Do I ever.” Logan’s tone is playful, but there is a definite undercurrent that Veronica does not miss.

Veronica looks over at Logan, catching his eyes wandering to the low-cut neckline of her dress. “Ahem.” He snaps up to her even gaze. “And my Dad, after much cajoling, agreed to let me renew my massage therapist creds and infiltrate. The guy’s weekly appointment is in about fifteen minutes.”

“Okay, what can I do?”

“Are you trying to tell me you want to help?”

“Sure. Why not?”

“I...don’t know. I just never imagined you’d want to.”

“It’s a funny thing. You appear in front of me in a naughty masseuse outfit and I’m suddenly feeling very helpful.”

Veronica snaps her fingers. “Damn. And here I thought it was going to be the naughty schoolgirl outfit that did it.”

“Do not discount the power of the naughty schoolgirl, Veronica. I beg you.”

“Down, boy. I’m on the clock.” Veronica looks at him sidelong. “Besides, the begging goes with a whole other outfit.” She winks, hops off the table and tugs her skirt down.

Logan smirks when she looks over her shoulder at him. Veronica points to a set of horizontal windows along one wall of the room. “See those windows? They look down into Kitty’s room.”


“The kinky masseuse.”


“So, when she and her client get comfortable, I am going to get up on that counter so I can take a couple photos. You can be the lookout.”

“Your job is seamy, huh?”

“The seamiest.”

A knock at Veronica’s door makes her jump. Ms. Parker’s voice floats through the wood. “Jasmine? May I enter?”

Veronica’s eyes widen dramatically and she hisses to Logan in a whisper. “Strip, strip! Don’t ask, just do it.” She goes straight for the button on Logan’s pants, which makes him hesitate ever so slightly.

“Veronica, what kind of a boy do you think I am?” He grins down at her and works the buttons of his shirt in rapid succession as he kicks off his shoes.

Veronica pauses to stare at him incredulously and answers by unzipping his pants. “Pretty sure that’s the kind of boy you are.”

Logan laughs quietly. “You do know me so well.”

“Yeah, I do.” Veronica grins at him before getting back to work. “Now come on. She’s going to observe because I’m a trainee. Hurry!” She raises her voice to call out. “Be right there, Ms. Parker. Um, Mr...”

Logan whispers, “Smith.” He whips off his shirt and throws it on a nearby chair.

Veronica pauses, giving Logan’s chest a quick look and a smile, which is not lost on him. “Mr. Smith, do you mind if my supervisor observes for a few minutes?”

He raises his voice. “Not at all, Jasmine.” His voice drops back to a whisper. “This place is kinky.”

Veronica yanks his pants down and points at the table, which Logan dutifully hops onto in only his boxers and socks. She pulls the pants all the way off and throws them on the chair with his shirt. “Face down.”

Logan issues a salute and lies down, putting his head into the facerest so he is looking at the floor. He feels Veronica yank off his socks and throw a towel over his boxers. She darts over to her counter, winds her timer, grabs her bottle of oil and squirts it on Logan’s back without warning him.

He tenses slightly as Veronica’s hands hurriedly rub in the oil, giving the appearance of a massage in progress. Before he can say anything else, Veronica calls to the door.

“Ms. Parker, please come in.”

The tall brunette enters, her white top and skirt more concealing than Veronica’s one-piece outfit, but still form-fitting. She is holding a clipboard in her French-manicured fingers.

“I’m still in the effleurage phase of the massage, but I will be moving to petrissage soon.” Veronica glides both her hands down Logan’s spine from neck to base in one smooth stroke. He moans slightly, which Veronica tries to ignore. She smiles shakily, the warm slide of oil over Logan’s skin making her body temperature rise. She repeats the motion and he repeats the moan. She looks over at Ms. Parker, who has taken a seat on the stool nearby.

“Are you well, Jasmine? You appear to be slightly flushed.”

Veronica laughs lightly and falsely. “Am I? I...it must be a little warm in here.”

A small laugh from beneath her hands makes her dig her nails in slightly, after making sure Ms. Parker is writing on her clipboard. She sees the muscles in Logan’s back clench in reaction.

Veronica picks up Logan’s left arm and wraps one hand around it, stroking upward to his shoulder firmly. After repeating this action a few times, she moves around to the other side and picks up his right arm. A few minutes later, Veronica notices Logan has gone quiet. Ms. Parker notices as well.

“Mr. Smith?” No response. “Mr. Smith??”

His voice is muffled. “Yeah?”

“Is Jasmine’s technique satisfactory?”

“Oh god, yes.”

Veronica has to bite her lip to keep from laughing at Logan’s tone. She’s heard those three words from his mouth before and while he had about the same amount of clothing on. Ms. Parker makes a few more notes on her clipboard.

Veronica smiles cheerily, pretending that her boyfriend is not on the table growing increasingly aroused and announces to Ms. Parker, “Moving onto petrissage now. Will you be staying to watch?”

“Only for a few minutes, Jasmine. I’m impressed with your comfort level with the client. He seems very happy.”

“You bet he is.” The voice comes from the table and they grin at each other, seeming to agree silently how easy it is to turn men to putty with a bit of oil and a few well-placed strokes.

Veronica begins kneading Logan’s back in small portions, loosening each muscle. She can see his knuckles whiten as he grips the edge of the table. After a few minutes and as Veronica works down to his lower back, Ms. Parker stands to leave. “Excellent technique, Jasmine. Carry on. Thank you, Mr. Smith.”

“Oh no, thank you, Ms. Parker.”

She smiles and lets herself out, closing the door behind her. Veronica smacks Logan on the back once and he sits up, swinging his legs over the edge of the table. Veronica notices that he keeps the towel draped over his midsection.

“What the hell?”

“Did you want her to figure out we knew each other?”

“I couldn’t help it. Your technique is excellent. You and undercover work...you’re so method.” He winks and she rolls her eyes at him.

The sound of voices from the next room makes both of their heads whip to the right.

“They’re already here.” Veronica walks over to the wall and presses her ear against it. Seconds later, she feels a warm body pressed against her back and it makes her gasp. “Logan.”

“Present and accounted for.” His voice is rough, his breath warm on her neck.

“I have to...oh god...take the photos.” Logan’s mouth on the spot just below her ear makes her jump and push back into him.

His hands slide down to run up the outside of her thighs and just under the skirt as his mouth drops light kisses down her neck. “Can’t it wait?”

Veronica slumps back against his bare chest, her head lolling to the side. “Yeahhhh..it can - no, wait. No, Logan.” She slips to the side and out of his grasp. “I’m on a job. For my Dad. What would I tell him?”

“That you rubbed your boyfriend down with oil, getting him so hot he can barely see straight and then proceeded to have your way with him, thereby missing your photo op?”

“You really want me to tell him that? He still has a concealed carry license, you know.”

Logan nods. “Point taken. Hurry?”

Veronica looks him up and down once. “Like the wind. Now help me up.” Veronica puts out a hand and Logan takes it, supporting her as she clambers onto the wooden counter along the wall. Standing on her tiptoes, she can just peek over the windowsill. Her eyes widen immediately.

“Oh! Well. They’re not wasting any time. Logan, grab my camera from my bag?” She points to her bag under a nearby chair and he quickly tugs the large digital camera free. The low wolf whistle from Veronica as he bends down to do it elicits a chuckle.

He hands it up to her and stands back a few steps as she goes to work. She flips the LCD screen out and then angles the camera until she gets the masseuse and her client in the frame. Logan’s eyebrows shoot up and he moves closer to get a look. His head slowly tilts to the side. “Does your table do that, too? Wait. More to the point, can you do that, too?”

“Logan. Don’t make me come down there.”

“Would you, please? As much as I am enjoying the view from here, I’d prefer a closer look.”

Veronica turns, mouth agape as she sees where Logan’s eyes are wandering up her flared skirt. “Hush. I’m trying to concentrate.”

Logan grins, tongue wetting his bottom lip as she purposely tilts her butt out further. She snaps a dozen frames in rapid succession and then pulls the camera down to check her handiwork.

“Did you get the shot?” Logan’s voice is calm and smooth.

“Several, in fact.”

“May I?” Logan holds his hand out for the camera and after shaking her head, Veronica hands it to him. She watches him quickly close the screen and turn off the camera rather than look at the frames. Before she can ask what he’s doing, he sets the camera to the side and reaches up to yank her off the counter by the waist with two hands.

Veronica stifles a yelp as her legs automatically wrap around his waist. Logan’s mouth is on hers in a blur, his hands sliding down to hold her butt against him. Spinning them around, Logan drops her on the end of the massage table with a light thump. He breaks the kiss and Veronica laughs, breathless.


“Why not?”

“Where should I start?”

“How about you don’t and we just get on with it?”

“ ‘Get on with it?’ Is that the line that’s supposed to melt my panties, Mr. Echolls?”

“No, I’ll take care of that myself, Ms. Mars.”

Veronica slaps his hands away as they start to inch under her skirt. “Someone could come in.”

“Don’t care. I’m not sharing.”

“You’re impossible.”

“And adorable.”

“I never said that.”

“No, but you think so.” Logan tugs Veronica against him, hard. He grins down at her, hands wandering up her thighs and under her skirt once again. She doesn’t slap him away this time.

Veronicas puts one finger in the middle of his chest. “Right now, I think you are being - okay, that’s distracting.” She jerks a little as Logan’s fingers catch on the waistband of her underwear and start to tug. Biting her bottom lip, she looks up at Logan and squeezes her legs around his waist, lifting her butt off the table long enough for him to yank her panties down. He smiles at her as he backs out of her grip, slowly pulling her panties down her legs and off, sliding her shoes off with them. His mouth on the top of her foot makes Veronica gasp quietly. She feels the warmth of his lips moving from her ankle to her calf to the skin just below her knee. Veronica leans slowly backwards until she is resting on her elbows, looking down at him from half-closed eyes. His hands grasp each of her knees and slowly push them apart as his mouth moves along her right inner thigh. One hand skims up her thigh, between her legs, finding the heat of her center. One finger slides in, followed quickly by a second as Logan finds her slippery and wet already. Veronica retreats slightly, trying to find purchase as he slowly begins to pump his fingers in and out, thumb brushing her clit on every stroke. She feels a knot of pressure building just below her belly button and when he looks up at her with his dark brown eyes, the pressure tightens on itself dramatically. He increases the pace, eyes never leaving hers and faster than she would have thought possible, Veronica comes, hard. She cries out, biting her own hand to muffle the sound, her feet scrambling to hook behind Logan’s thighs as the ripples surge outward through her body.

Still shaken by slow aftershocks, Veronica languidly reaches up with one hand, hooking the zipper pull of the dress at her neck. The slow rasp of metal splitting makes Logan lift his head. His expression remains intense as he watches Veronica continue to tug the zipper down, causing the white fabric to split and reveal a narrow expanse of her fair skin from neck to waist. She winks and wiggles one finger, calling him up to her. “Up here, Logan.”

Logan is on her in a flash, mouth crushing into hers in a clash of teeth and tongue. Her hand slides up into his hair, twisting there as his arm wraps around her back and pulls her against him. Her skin kisses against his through the opening of her dress, making them both react. In a scramble of arms and legs and clothing, they work together to get her dress all the way off and before Veronica knows what really happened, her bra joins it on the floor. In the next moment, Logan’s boxers hit the floor as well.

Logan’s mouth biting its way down her neck, she fights to maintain her balance, finally giving up and falling back onto the table. His body covers her, all warmth and slickness, and Veronica’s slide over his back and to his chest, spreading the massage oil in slow swirls of her fingers.

She arches up into him, breasts brushing against his chest, oil clinging to her pale skin. Logan massages the tiny amount of oil into her breasts with one hand, rolling the soft flesh under his strong fingers as Veronica writhes under him. His hand trails down her stomach, drawing a line between her legs before surging back up, between her breasts and to her shoulder.

“Are you - are you a certified massage therapist, too, Logan?” Veronica’s voice trembles with effort, the gentle force of his hand over her body shaking her calm.

“No, just good with my hands.”

“I’ll say.”

Logan brushes a kiss against her mouth. “Don’t move.”

“Not sure I can.” Veronica stretches her arms above her head, her lithe body wriggling slightly on the table, glistening.

He grins, sliding down to find his pants on the floor. Veronica hears the telltale sound of a condom wrapper being torn and decides Logan could set the landspeed record for suiting up. Before she can contemplate what the trophy might look like for such a contest, he is above her again, braced on his elbows. Logan’s mouth finds hers, his lips gentle this time on hers. His tongue gains entrance by slowly tracing her lips and then entangling with her own. Somewhere in the kiss, she feels him begin to slowly surge into her, stretching her with each shallow thrust. He swallows her every breath in a new kiss as he finds his way deep into her, finally burying himself to the hilt. Logan holds very still, Veronica’s legs hooked around his, face flushed as he lifts up to look at her. Green eyes meet brown, a flare of affection warming them both as he begins to move, skin sliding against skin. Slowly then more quickly, Logan thrusts into Veronica as she clings to his shoulders, then reaches back to hold onto the edges of the table.

The sounds of the busy street outside, the ticking of the clock on the wall, the muffled noises of the occupied rooms around them slowly fade into the background. A shared look, a building pressure, a hand between them, an increase in pace, a sheen of perspiration and oil on skin, and then it is peaking and coming and muffled moans and falling into tiny pieces. As their minds and bodies clear, the quiet buzz of the fluorescent lights, the tapping of someone walking down the hall, the low rushing of water in a pipe in the wall all come back.

Logan pulls Veronica to a sitting position as he stands on wobbly legs.

“You okay?” He brushes her hair from her eyes, inadvertently leaving a tiny spot of oil across her cheek.

She smiles at him, skin flushed pink from cheeks on down. “More than.” She slides down around him, feet playing with the backs of his knees. “Maybe you should visit me on the job more often.”

“What happened to me blowing your cover, eh?” Logan tilts his head slightly to the side, and the smirk on his face makes Veronica flood with warmth anew despite herself.

“Well, it’s no doubt you’re trouble.” She leans up to brush a kiss across his mouth. “But the fact is, you’re my trouble. And I can handle you.”

“Anytime you want to, Veronica. Anytime.”



“Touché.” A sharp buzzer sounds in the room, making them both jump. “Your hour’s up, Mr. Smith.” Veronica slides around Logan to stand up. Tugging her panties on and reaching around to hook her bra, she turns and looks over at him. “How’s that pain in your neck?”

“What pain?” He winks at her as he collects his clothes and slowly gets dressed.

Veronica tugs on her dress, zipping it back up to her neck. “See you later?”

“You’re not leaving? But you got the shot.”

“I don’t want to raise suspicion. I’ll stick around ‘til the end of my shift.” Veronica raises her hand, stopping Logan before he can speak again. “I promise only to massage young, nubile ladies for the next two hours.”

“Oh, Jesus. Sure I can’t stay?”

“Yes, now scoot before Ms. Parker comes to check on us.” Veronica smacks Logan on the backside as he turns to the door.

He pauses, hand on the doorknob. “Veronica?”


“You can keep the outfit, right?”

Veronica laughs, coming up behind Logan to whisper in his ear. “I will be.”

“God, I love you.” He turns, pressing a soft kiss to her mouth before slipping out the door.

Veronica turns and leans against the door, grinning. “Same here.” She pushes away and goes to straighten her table. “Same here.”

Hope you enjoyed! Thanks for reading and reviewing! (More Holding the Curve is on the way once I survive my end of semester projects!)
Tags: vm fic, vm one-shot
  • Post a new comment


    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.