something stronger

Reccing Notes: I found this on ff.n, which we LJers sometimes playfully call 'the pit'. I said playfully, y'all.
Anyway. I found this. I love it. Its gorgeous and think-y.
What I love about this is that the author really delves into Chloe's thoughts.
(And she was nice enough to let me post it here and to say madness kinda was a push in writing it. *overflow of squee*) That's it, I'll gladly write 24/7 if it inspires more stuff like this. ;)

by somethingmore28 at ff.n
2459 words, r/nc-17, eternal

She wishes she can look up and see the beast, but knows that all she will see is Davis.

Run, she thinks hopelessly, but it screams for her to stay. It, the monster in her she wonders briefly. Brainiac? But he's gone and she's free from his control. No, it's her, every part, from her broken heart, to her crumbling world, that aches for him.

The lock in place, her resolution set in, one stolen breath before descending the stairs, eyes downcast. She isn’t ready to face him, not without a mask of anger or sacrifice.

She wishes she can look up and see the beast, but knows that all she will see is Davis.

“It’s never the changes you want that change everything.” Where did she read that from?

She is his something stronger. Nothing can feel farther from the truth.

Things feel like they're falling, and she's standing in the middle of it all, unable to do anything but look away. And so she does. She looks away, closes her eyes and lets her body do the thinking as she leans her head onto his chest.

“Chloe?” Pulse racing, fingers aching to find her embrace, and somehow he controls it, not the beast, but the man.

“It’s okay,” her voice cooes into his shirt, warm breath pulling him in further.

Strong arms come to rest around her waist, hesitant at first but as the tears fall and tiny fingers grab desperately at his shirt, all pretense of boundary slip away. All that remains is Chloe, in his arms, crying for everything she can't undo, can’t talk away with her never-ending words.

He surrounds her, arms so tight she can barely move without feeling every niche of his body in the process. Words don't hold much meaning when there is nothing to say, nothing to change the unmitigated circumstance of this pairing.

10 minutes, half an hour, who knows? The tears become subdued, uneven breaths of Davis’s scent. Warm, she is too warm. This isn’t how it is supposed to feel. Where is all the guilt, the despair? How can she find so much solace in his arms, in the presence of his beating heart?

A sigh, lies aren't as convenient when you are facing the truth.

There is slight pressure against his torso as Chloe pulls away, instinct tells him to hold her tighter, and he lets her go.

“I’m tired,” is all she says, all she can fathom to say. A slight nod of the head and she turns away to take off her jacket and scarf.

Look away, he thinks, somehow this simple, everyday action feels intimate. Look away. He doesn't, allows himself this simple victory.

Davis watches as her gentle fingers undo the buttons running the length of her jacket, pulling it off her shoulders and placing it on the hook on the wall. The skin of her back peeks out from under her top as she lifts her arms. He wonders briefly if she knows how tempting she is as she unravels the scarf from her neck, exposing the neckline of her green sweater, the gentle lines of her collarbone almost begging to be kissed.

Turning back to him, a started expression settles briefly over her features before the blood rises to her cheeks. He looks away clearly having embarrassed her with his blatant staring; thanking God that she cant’t read his thoughts. A moment of silence and he snaps out of it.

“Take the cot, I brought a sleeping bag.”

Arms wrapping securely around her shoulders, Chloe takes a tentative seat on the cot. It’s isn’t exactly the picture of comfort but she will survive. That’s all it really comes down to in her life these days, survival.

Davis picks up the sleeping bag, single-handedly lifting an iron cabinet with ease as he rolls it across the floor. Chloe has seen Clark use his powers in far more impressive ways but the simple act of lifting a cabinet that she can barely budge still manages to temporarily shock her.

Davis faces her, once again finding her surprised.

“When did you start having powers?” disbelief mixed with slight fear.

“Oh,” he stares down at the cabinet, “This is fairly recent.”

Another silence, it threatens to swallow them whole.

“The floors really cold,” she blurts out.

It's his turn at surprise, “It doesn’t really bother me.”

“Right,” slight swelling of her bottom lip as she bites into it.

Davis doesn’t allow himself to register the thinly veiled invitation, only continues to look at her. That’s when he sees it, the fear in her eyes, in her tense posture, her clamping fingers. He can’t hate himself more even if he tries. A few paced strides and he's crouching down on one knee, coming down to her level, no need to be looming over her as he tries to placate her.

She looks up, confused, vulnerable, always beautiful. His hand finds its way on top of hers, comfort he tells himself, loosening the grip.

“I won’t hurt you Chloe; I’ll do everything in my power to make sure of that. I hate doing this to–“

“It’s not that,” she cuts him off, “I know you didn’t choose this, I’m not afraid of you,” avidly avoiding eye contact.

Davis doesn’t think, just uses his free hand to tilt her chin upwards, “What is it?”

Eyes, green, thoughtful, afraid, he wants to drown in them.

His hand still holds her chin; Chloe has no other choice but to look at him. “I don’t know what I’m a afraid of. I don’t know what to feel.” Her hand cradles his cheek, there’s so much emotion in his face, and it feels like she can touch it.

“Davis I can’t lose Clark, the world, they need him.” Pause. There’s more, way too much more.

“And I ..."

"Need him too." Disappointment? Pain?

"... need you.” Could it really be that simple?

All the restraint he is physically capable of goes into not devouring her into his arms. No boundaries, her forehead against his, their breath mingling, so close her lashes are dancing along his skin. So close he can close the gap between them and make the world go away.

Take me. Soft lips on breaking reserve and it all threatens to come crashing down. Calloused fingers, golden hair, perfect skin. Heat. Tracing her jaw line with his thumb, eyes closed, heavy breathing. Fingers grasping his collar, determined, doubt trickling away. Was there ever any? Force, her lips taking his. It tastes like everything, the air in his lungs. She lets him in, slip of the tongue along his upper lip. Nothing ever felt quite this good. More heat. Hands intertwine around his neck, fumbling mouths embracing each other, pressed together like they’re all that’s left of the world.

Breaking contact, there’s an imminent need to breathe.

Chloe looks up; he’s watching her with those broken eyes and she knows what it is she’s really afraid of.

“I could lose myself in you. And I can’t let that happen.”

Davis holds his breath, doesn’t quite know why, but can feel it coming, the end of something.

Hands once again caress his cheek, warm lips meet his ear. Blood pumping, heart racing, there’s so much heat.

“But I want too.”

He can make her forget reason with that look, the one that doesn’t quite seem possible. The one mixed with so much longing, like he's saved it all for her, or maybe she’s the first, the only.

Jimmy ?

It's built up so much. She wants it to come crashing down, on top of her, inside of her, everywhere.

She can see the faint outline of a protest in his eyes, but its weak, silences it with her index finger brushing along his lips. They part slightly at her touch.

Will he ever stop looking at her like that? Oh god, she hopes not.

Glances back at the tiny cot, bites her lip, and pulls her body along it's length. Is it surprise in his eyes, she doesn`t know, all she sees is desire and something stronger. Knees slightly bent, propped up on her elbows, shes waiting for him to finish her.

He swallows hard, takes her in, every inch, wonders briefly if this is a dream. There she is, the object of his, is there even a word, and giving herself over so completely to him. All he has to do is take, feels like that’s all he ever does with her.

"Chloe if this is out of some misplaced sense of guilt …"

A small smile, against all reason, "Trust me, I’m not that noble."

It isn't like her, to be like this. It isn't like her to so openly expose her heart like this. Losing Davis in that tank has taken something from her. And replaced it with this, this understanding that she's never, never wanted anything the way she wants him. Not even Clark, and definately not Jimmy.

Her hands reach the buttons on her sweater, how she manages to undo all of them without trembling, she has no idea. It's on the ground now, along with any doubt she's harbored. It will never be butterflies with him, it will always be stronger. It will never be light with him, the dark has too much power over them.

"It's not always about where you heart is, it's about what you've done and what you're going to do."

Her heart is with her best friend, her family, the world she will always protect. That world just happens to include him.

"There aren't enough prayers in this world to give me redemption."

Maybe there will be no redemption, no way back into the light. Maybe this is all she can ever give him, not salvation, but something stronger.

Chloe faintly remembers wedding vows, bowties and perfect smiles, a life that can be sunshine and puppy dog eyes. She remembers security and logic, remembers fading photos of love.

It’s all there. And she’s here, on this decrepit cot, transfixed by him and the pain she wants to tear away. Movement on his part is minimal, but there’s an inferno in his eyes.

It’s too much. Bold fingers find their way to the buttons on her jeans; she takes her time. An impromptu strip tease? An act of seduction? But it’s not sexual; it’s out of necessary, like she’s painting him a picture. Maybe she can make it last forever.

Eyes follow the trail of denim down her hips, linger between her legs, graze her thighs and find the concrete below. Davis swallows hard, everything he’s ever wanted feels like torture. She’s lying on the bed clad in nothing but underwear and a camisole. The distance between him and any sense of strength is shrinking, or maybe it’s just waiting for him on that bed.

Chloe has faced mutant meteor freaks, alien invasions, apocalypse one too many times, and somehow the last minute is becoming the most terrifying of her life. Eyes fall shut as her head hits the pillow, shallow breathing, heart racing, she doesn’t have to wait long.

There is no reason, no good deed to reward. He doesn’t deserve this after the lies he’s told, the lives he’s taken. There’s only need, to be with her, apart of her, something to hold him together, keep him from imploding. And so he finds himself on top of her, between her, wanting nothing more than to be inside of her.

It’s like she’s awoken something in him, he’s alive in a way that transcends any of his jubilant smiles or witty remarks. The mouth taking hers isn’t gentle or rough, it’s loving and hungry and feels way too right. The hands peeling the shirt off his torso aren’t small or fragile, they’re taking all of him in, feeding off of his fire.

That’s what it feels like, they're burning. The inferno in his eyes has taken over them both, and their desire is the fuel.

Slight fumbling with the belt buckle, but it doesn’t take long for his jeans to find their way to the floor. His lips give hers a reprieve and follows her jaw line to her neck, trailing kisses down to her collarbone. Fingers cling to his back, there isn’t much room to feel anything but him, and she’s perfectly fine with that. The camisole, delicate and pretty, looks like a tattered rag in his fingers. The slightest hint of a smile, and it’s back to searing desire and discarded clothing.

Skin to skin doesn’t even feel like enough.

The noises she’s making don’t sound normal, but then again nothing about this pairing quite is. She doesn’t bother masking the guttural moan that escapes her lips as he mouths her breasts, wonders briefly if she can even draw blood from the lines she’s drawing into his back.

One hand reaches down and grasps the flimsy material between her thighs, (Another throaty moan) pulls it off hastily, does the same with his own. And now there’s nothing left, no barriers, nothing between them but skin and flesh and whatever it is he’s made of.

There’s a moment, eyes ask silent permission, her lips take his, so light, and he moves into her. He’s filling her, body and mind and that desperate abyss her life is becoming. It will never be enough.

His hold on her is unlike anything, and she hooks her legs around his waist hoping to make it stronger. He sinks deeper, time is torture and she could eat it up. It’s not slow, not erratic, it’s urgent, a two way street.

Its building, their release. And now it doesn’t feel like he’ll implode, just feels like they’ll explode. He movies faster, breathes out her name every so often, she just pulls him in tighter.

Mouths make contact again, an inseparable mass of salty skin and broken kisses. Hips once rocking in unison, become disjointed, uncontrolled, pulling them further and further from circumstance and closer together.

He breaks their fervent kissing, pulls away until he can watch her, completely and irrevocably exposed. Her brain isn’t capable of hiding anything, and she knows her eyes say everything her mind couldn’t voice. Look away, but she can’t. A final brush against her lips and it all comes apart, breaking through them with the weight of the world.

Pleasure ripples through her in waves, and she rides them out until the weight of him burrows into her, a strangled Chloe barely escaping his lips. She’s never felt more sated, like she wants to spill over. No that’s a lie; she wants to keep it all.

Davis’s head is buried in the crook of her neck, breathing into moist skin like he’s sustaining her. It lingers in the air, the consequence of their free fall. But the future lies at standstill, gets added to their pile of clothing on the floor and the only truth right now is the gravity of their bodies, drawing them together.

Tonight they are quiet, sleep is the only answer. Tomorrow however, is another question and as Chloe watches the peace that’s fallen over Davis’s tortured features, she knows all too well what her answer will be.

But maybe there is something stronger out there than my need to kill.

And now she knows there is.


Drop the love y'all, you *know* you want to!