malignant drabble series part 3

Reccing Notes: This part will break your heart after part 2. It's hot too. And Davis is proactive, just like I love in the show. And I'm going to say it. theirloveissopure.

by xxamlaxx at her livejournal
1033 words, m/nc-17, beast


"We're going to fix this."
---

“I didn’t transform the entire time we were apart, isn’t that great?!” Davis beams at her from the driver’s seat, bright, white smile plastered to his face, painted deep into his facial muscles.

“It’s fantastic Davis.” She pops another pill, rolls it around on her tongue, crushes it into bitter powder between her teeth. “I told you leaving the country would make things easier.”

“It has Chloe.” Davis switches on the radio; every song is in Spanish. “Do you want to stop at a hotel for the night or keep driving?” He asks as city lights become small orbs of yellow in the distance, stretched in front of and behind them. “This is the last area with hotels for another eight hours.”

“Let’s stop.” The throbbing behind her eyes has resumed its cruel game, intensifies and augments, mocking her, because now she knows what it is, what is occurring inside her skull. Five hours since her diagnoses and she thinks she can feel her neurons mutating, growing back in malignant clusters of cells; biological poison building beneath layers of meninges.

“Are you feeling alright Chloe? You aren’t yourself.” Davis stops the car, reaches over to touch her face, brushes his thumbs across the dark circles beneath her eyes.

“It’s nothing.” She waves away his concern, pushes his hands from her cheeks.

“I don’t believe you.” Davis sighs in one long exhalation of breath, one rise and fall of his chest. “Something is different about you. You seem preoccupied. I’m happy Chloe, I can’t remember a time when I’ve been this happy, but if you aren’t happy, then let me know now, because I don’t want to put my feelings above yours.” Soft and vulnerable, wide brown eyes, pursed lips; exposed and raw and open. Davis is the epitome of altruism, the embodiment of the struggle between good and evil, the true nature of man and his inner conflictions. He deserves more than she can give him, more than her pitiful, damaged brain cells can give him.

“Davis, don’t worry about me.” Her seat belt unbuckles with a click. “You’re the one with real problems.” She slides into his lap in one movement, over the arm rests between them, her back against the steering wheel; proximity and heated breath on her face, misting warmly across her skin.

“Chloe..” A barely audible whisper, soft and disbelieving.

“Shhh.” Her fingers curl around the nape of his neck, palm flat against the flesh, and one smooth tug brings their mouths together. Davis inhales in surprise, sucks the air from her mouth, her lungs, her body, draws out a bit of her, the life, love, impending death and perpetual sickness. His tongue pushes into her mouth after a moment of hesitation, brief concern, lazy and wet and hot against hers, excited explorations, gliding along her teeth.

Her free hand works its way between them, trails down his chest, slips beneath the waistband of his jeans. The button of his pants is undone by her fingers, his belt torn away with a flick of her wrist. His shirt is soon to follow, her clothing too, until everything is bare skin and warmth, her thighs on either side of his hips, knees pressing into the upholstery of his seat. Then she sinks down, settles onto him, listens to him breathe, watches him run his fingers along the pale skin of her chest, pull at the black lace of her bra. Davis clutches her, holds her tight, tips his head back against the seat. It ends when Davis shudders, when every muscle in her body tenses and ripples, gives way to ecstasy, so blindingly intense and hot she can do little more than press her forehead to Davis’ shoulder and pant and pant and pant while she slowly comes down from the unbelievable high.

“Once we’re inside” She kisses his collarbone, drags her lips over it, tastes salt and sweat and his skin. “There’s something I need to talk with you about.”

----
“What was it you needed to tell me?” Davis yawns hours later, one long, lean expanse of muscle and bare skin, sprawled out on his stomach and watching her. She wrings water from her damp hair, wipes away clear droplets from her stomach, from her legs, from between her breasts.

“Davis.” She sighs, slumps down beside him, smiling when he walks his fingers up her thighs, presses a warm, wet kiss to her hip.

“If you’re worried I might be pregnant, it’s okay, I’m on the pill.” Davis makes her laugh, lightens the hot weight of dread in the pit of her abdomen.

“Funny.” She places a palm flat on his back, presses it deep into his shoulder blade, feels heat and skin and muscle relaxing beneath her fingertips. “It’s serious.”

“Are you okay?” Concern glistens in his brown eyes as he pushes himself up on his elbows, leans in and rests his forehead on the small of her back. His breath mists hotly over her skin, raises goose bumps on her flesh.

“No. No I’m not.” And then he’s sitting up, staring intently into her eyes, his hands heavy over the back of hers.

“Are you unhappy? I told you…” She silences him with a finger against his lips, brushes her thumb over them.

“You know how I haven’t been feeling well?” Davis nods, reaches up and cups her face, presses his fingers gently into her temples. “I had an MRI today at the hospital while you were collecting medical supplies. I have a brain tumor, sort of.”

“How…how can you sort of have a brain tumor?” Davis swallows thickly, and she can almost hear a piece of his soul crack and shatter.

“Removing Brainiac did something to my brain, destroyed the cells. Now they’re growing back malignant.”

“How long do you have?” He finally asks, eyes glistening.

“Three to four months.”

She lets Davis cling to her, bury his face in her shoulder, hold her so tightly she almost can’t breathe. It’s heat and skin on skin, his mouth on her collarbone, her throat, her jaw.

“Get packed.” He says after a long, long time, when she’s half asleep, fingers absently stroking the soft skin at the nape of his neck.

“Why?”

“We’re going back to Metropolis.” Davis pulls her into a hug, until she’s flat against his chest. “We’re going to fix this.”