Tuesday, March 23, 2010

unbound

Reccing Notes: I lay the blame for this one squarely on nonky. She encouraged me to post werewolf!au!Davis, so I did. I wouldn't have had the courage to post it if not for her. So, take the scholarly, half-in love Chloe from Prey and transport her back some three thousand years. Bring in a bloody attack on hundreds of people and a blood-covered, amber-eyed Davis on a full moon. She is supposed to shoot him through the throat with a silver arrow. She's not giving up that easily.

by vagrantdream at her/my livejournal
2200 words, nc-17, prey-ish au

He was far stronger than she was, and the only other thing she could do was try and hold him down if he actually went into lupine seizures.


You do not need to know how the werewolf came to be. You do not need to pity him. You see his amber eyes and loose an arrow into his throat.
He would rend you. Your blood would spill in a steady pool over the ruff of the dead and he would lap at it. Your compassion would not matter then. In your death, for the barest moment, his eyes would be human again.
-Book Of The Huntress


Chloe found Davis in an enemy camp, the only survivor of a ghastly attack that had left the tents empty and thick with the reek of blood. His skin had been matted all over with flakes of it. Then, dazed and half-alive, he’d taken an arrow in the back for her, a complete stranger. He could have been someone saving lives, as easily as he could have been a werewolf but then he’d healed immediately.
She’d looped an arm over his shoulder; she’d seen the amber in his eyes, soft and wondering. An arrow into the throat would have freed him. She couldn’t shoot.

She vouched for him while twisting Kal’s arm behind his back. You brought him; you take care of him, Chloe. Which lead her to this. Davis was curled up outside her tent, wary amber eyes on the waxing moon. I’m going to change. He was convinced. She was convinced he wouldn’t be one of those soulless creatures tore the throats out of feeble farmers. That’s how they returned to themselves, according to legend, crippled muddy hind quarters and wolf-like man parts.

Chloe settled herself the mud splattered grass, eventually gleaned the courage to reach out to him and catch one off the shivers off him. She wrapped her arms over his shoulders and the scratchy blanket over him. “I don’t care if you’re a unicorn. Get in with me.”

“I can’t, Chloe.” Davis was shivering. He was heavier than her meager size too, and it didn’t matter how many leather straps she had, she wasn’t going to bind his arms with a leather breast-band.
He thought he was guilty, the archer wanted to shoot him through the throat, Kal would go with it. The entire camp thought she was getting her throat ripped out tonight. He didn’t even believe in himself. That left her, ever the optimist.

“Please, Davis.” She settled for whispering at him. “If were even going to try to save your life, I need someone to trust me.” Wiping a messy, stray hand through his hair.

When he clambered inside her tent it was a whole lot more crowded than she would have liked. He was not as big a man as Kal, but some off her scrolls jumbled against his arm.
“You wrote all this?” He ran a finger over the old paper in wonder she hadn’t seen from anyone but the young ones, for so long. He probably didn’t understand what the symbols meant, but she scarcely had the composure to say yes.

The sleeping pelt was more than a few thick wolf skins sewn together, thick and heavy. At least it didn’t have fleas. Chloe struggled with it, acutely aware of the darkness and the dangerous shift of his brown eyes over her mouth, the flap closed from the moon now. It was done. Thick fur was warm over parts of her back the straps missed and he’d been out in the rain. Her arms locked over him. Should she lay down over him, next to him, behind him? There was body heat to think of too.

She settled for curling into his shoulder; cool but strong, a strange forbidden comfort in the thick trappings of her hunting clothes, suddenly something very wrong about the confines of them. Davis nuzzled his face against hers, whispered thank you, didn’t turn away. Perhaps, wolves were clingy sleepers. Her skin felt raw, prickling with something wanting to tear its way out. Chloe knew what this was. She’d wanted Kal once, but it wasn’t like this. The thought occurred to her that they must have thought she’d taken him for a mate, out there.

“I like you a lot.” She whispered, barely audible. It didn’t take very much more then, breath mingling across his deeper one, the press of his mouth unfurling the breath in her. She might not have minded if his eyes were amber. She was half-caught under him, his tongue sliding against her mouth. Her nails caught against the pelt. Davis caught fingers into the end of her hair when he stopped and she found herself strangely lost.

“I can’t let you be hurt.” he said. “If it starts, I’ll wake you.” He pressed the bolt of her arrow in her hand. Dead center.
She gave a short, soft sigh and rolled onto her back. “I think my chastity is safe with you, too.”




“It’s happening.”
When Davis woke her his breaths were thick and uneven. It must have been midnight. Her eyes hadn’t yet adjusted to the dark and in a panic she slid her hands to his chest. Human skin, there, a prickle of hair but that was not abnormal. The only thing abnormal about this was his perfectly warm body attempting to tug the flap of her tent open. For a moment, her waking thoughts reasserted themselves. If he went out, he wouldn’t come back alive. If he stayed…

The confines of the tent shook and trembled with whatever had taken him over. Something roared its way out of his throat, wracked him with small volcanic shudders.

“Stop that.”
Davis was too far panicked to listen now, fingers pushing the arrow into the bolt, hands shaking so much that the first one nicked him. He was far stronger than she was, and the only other thing she could do was try and hold him down if he actually went into lupine seizures.

She tried to grab the next one, a small scratch across her knuckles as she broke the shaft... He could smell the miniscule drops of her blood. Now. Too late.

Chloe fell hard on him, suddenly furious at him and this thing in him. Why was it always the ones she liked? She was the kiss of death. She pressed her hand hard into his wracked cheekbone, a pitiful drop of blood smearing across it. She saw bits of pieces of her, only bone and torn tissues and blood pooling on the furs and his eyes brown again. What big eyes you have. He was stunned enough for her to run, and then they’d shoot him. She’d hesitated too long.

His teeth took firm hold of her wrist, stinging sharply enough to make her lose her balance. One rough hand swiped across his face, blood against his teeth. She groped in the dark for some semblance of Davis’s face; found his hair was a little thicker. Maybe… His nose nudged at the hollow of her throat again and he growled lowly, almost like a prized pet. The frequency of it sent a pleasant tingle all the way to the pit of her stomach. That was it; she had to pet him all night?

She reached up explorative fingers to his neck, half relieved not to find a massive crest there. He had that curious mark on his neck still that told her he was a man, not… He touched them with his lips, a quintessential human motion. His eyes were Davis’s eyes, perhaps not entirely, just rippling under the surface.

“I’m cold.” She didn’t know if he could understand. His eyes watched her curiously as she gathered the warmth of a skin much like his over her. If he changed into that, the sight of the dead reminders didn’t make him lose hold of his tenuous grip. He even let it settle on him, not for long before flipping over, warm against her back. She had a functional uniform for hunting, but the straps were digging into her shoulders. She felt two press hard, chafe against her breasts before snapping. Chloe braced her knees on the ground, anticipating the smallest touch. Maybe this was his way of returning the favor. She didn’t feel it yet, nothing but the warm weight of him against her back. This was how animals copulated.
Maybe…

Chloe hissed out a breath at the hard, uncontrolled press of lips against her neck. The last one was gone. She felt him at last, gentle probing fingers, the slow coaxing of an alien feeling inside her body. Chloe had heard enough about women or men who spread their legs in stories around the camp fire, and when they chose to do it. Lois pounded a hand over the backs of those green enough to cough up their grog. If this was all then… Davis stopped, and then it was different, more. He licked his hand, her mouth and when he started again his touch and the wet sliding sounds of it left her voice too raw to scream.

Her head forced itself back when he jerked into her. Blunt and sharp and a hundred things she couldn’t name. She felt skin tearing. Davis took his hands away and wrapped his arms around her, panted soft, crooning syllables into her ear. Chloe scratched at his arms in the fury of it. He didn’t stop, slower, not painfully blunt now, sliding deep enough into her that she needed more, more until she tore to pieces. It felt as if her throat had been torn out long ago.

It was not unlike death. There was the fight of it, grinding up against him in an ecstasy of adrenaline and conflict, the pained death rattle as her head arched and rubbed into his shoulder. There was surrender when his voice broke-a ragged, ebbing howl and he seemed to tense up inside. She looked back at him- saw his eyes for glancing seconds. Vaguely, her mind registered that the color of them was dark shifting through her vision. She moved to him and the weight of him was thick. Chloe came in sobbing, jerking gasps with him between her legs, arms around her, thoughts swept along a frenzy of heated pleasure.

Chloe felt the blood pounding behind her eyelids. Felt herself slump onto her elbows, spent as he retreated. Her scalp prickled, hair tugged between his teeth. Her eyes slid shut-struggled open. She tried to loosen his grip so she could roll over, get warmer. She ended up winding her arms around him. His eyes were half-comprehending, careful. His skin burned to touch. She pulled the pelt back with mercifully slow fingers. It was as it should have been. Only, her blood trickled down her thigh, dyed brown fur crisp and red. Blood like from a woman’s menses… She scrabbled back. Surely, she wasn’t...

Werewolves picked up the trail of blood. He was going to follow. She lifted her hands to stop him, only shoved him once. He wasn’t aggressive, nose nuzzling into her skin, tongue rough and warm and licking it away. Desire burned through her like it couldn’t have if she was broken.
When Chloe finally drifted off- warm skin tickling at her nose, thick furs wound awkwardly over her back and hands on his skin, the vague blood-smell was still in the air.



The sunlight streamed over Davis’s half-closed brown eyes. “I told you. “ She said, no need to say anything more. This time, she felt like she’d mattered. Davis crawled until his arms were around her shoulders, no fur, no huge teeth, sweat slicking their skin together as he hugged her tight. He slid a hand over her mouth, as if to check to see if she was intact. A chaste touch. He had to remember.

“We are all clear up there?” she asked finally. Her heartbeat still felt like it had been jolted from miles of headlong flight. No virgin left to set herself up as a sacrifice. She was dressed in little more than her own skin.

“More than bits and snatches. We-”
His breath hung in the air, a question. He was half-horrified that this had been something beyond the pale and ultimately destructive to them both.

“You’re important to me. I didn’t get to say how much I liked you enough.” Chloe kissed his mouth, hand groping his face in the light. His fingers caught hers, traced their intertwined hands across it, so human it made her ache. He looked at her, and in some bizarre, beautiful way she was not found wanting. “I’m not going to be without this, whatever form you take.” She whispered, half-breathless at his slow, fascinated proximity. “We can stay. You think?”

She shifted her weight back as his hand stroked lightly across the curve of her thigh, inwards, intimate as a kiss. This time it would be just them, no leftover adrenaline, no alter egos.

“I think you’re everything.” That was her first time for that too.
Chloe watched his face shift from gentleness to hot tension as he slid into her. She was already wet, but what did he expect?
“Tell me-tell me-“ Later. All later.

Davis’s eyes burned into her and she could not be afraid anymore. She’d died for a moment, lost control and found she could hold her weight after all. Davis was a good man, her man now; she expected the campfire gossip to say. And- this-this was what happened when she lived again.




insensible visitors with oral fixations

Reccing Notes: I introduce you to your very first post-eternal zombiesmut! I teased nonky into writing this, she teased me into writing davis-as-a-werewolf-smut. I think I won most because her writing it just that good. Chloe is feeling empty and bloody-handed after Davis dies in Eternal, and guess where he-goes, half-alive, after digging his way out of his grave?

by nonky at her livejournal
3853 words, nc-17, eternal

His flat palm patted along her hair, as if his fingers weren't working to rifle through and mess it up. She gathered a small bundle and he leaned in to take it in his lips, drawing it along and slightly into his mouth. His nose mushed into her jaw and he gasped quietly.


If Chloe hadn't been feeling so numb, she would have thought before moving to cease the knocking at her office door.

She wouldn't have answered a violently panicked pounding. It was late and she was in no shape to deal with a crisis. She was alone, Clark was keeping well clear of her bloody hands, and she was wallowing in the knowledge that she had looked Davis in the eye as his soul left his body. Danger to herself didn't even strike her emotions with any resonance. Attackers didn't knock on unlocked doors.

Later, much later, she would admit she was probably asking for a punishment to find her. Since Davis Bloome met her, he'd put his job on the line because she asked, then forgiven Jimmy kidnapping and trying to kill him. He was nothing but a sweet, supportive, respectful man who was driven to help people. The monster wasn't real to her. Davis was real, and she had killed him to protect a friend who couldn't look at her anymore.

She loved Clark, but Krypton could go to hell. That dead rock had ruined so many days of her life, and she was barely a freak. Every new discovery told her the Kryptonians didn't care they were exporting their problems to Earth and an unsuspecting race with less advanced technology. Her home had become the battleground for a world that no longer existed.

The anger made her rough as she opened the door, then left her entirely. Chloe felt her shoes slip backward as Davis wrapped her in his arms. She held on while he pressed his weight down and shuffled clumsily closer. She shut her eyes and tried not to think about how it had to be a dream. He was hurting her a little bit with the press of his arms directly over her shoulders, so she swayed them to get some relief. He smelled the same, and there was no horrific coating of blood or liquid kryptonite on his clothing.

Just believe it for a few minutes, she told herself. Just take it and soak it in. I know he's lost, I know I lost him, but I don't have to know it when I'm asleep.

Davis' cool dry skin didn't feel dead against her cheek, and Chloe tilted her chin back like it was muscle memory. His palm covered most of that side of her face. She had a flicker - The Beast crouched in front of her as she wept, entreating her, trying as best it could to comfort before it picked her up.

"Chloeeee," he growled, but it was a man-growl from a rusty human voice.

She met his eyes and saw the tiniest response in them. He was there, somewhere deep and probably not crawled out of his grave yet. She had killed him, and she would find him, too.

"It's me, Davis. I'm here. I'm glad to see you." So obscenely glad; she was falling into this hard.

Everyone else came back from the dead, so why not the cute paramedic who was destined to kill Clark? She didn't recall going to sleep, or even sitting down. Her body ached with the long night and she knew herself to be alert. She was holding Davis and stretching up to reach him was pulling the middle of her back. Every other hug from him had been glorious with comfort and warmth. This was a big, complicated feeling but not altogether pleasant.

Chloe found that if she moved herself with inching steps back, he would follow. She pulled him into the office and kicked the door shut. This time she locked it. Her hand returned to feel along Davis' side. It rose and fell with breathing. He made noises and gave every indication of being alive. She didn't think she'd gone this crazy, so she started to plan what a reasonably sane person would do in her situation.

“Davis? Can we sit down,” she asked him, waving toward the too-pink sofa. “My neck can't keep this up forever.”

She kept inching them around the furniture, and he let her push him down to the sofa. Both of his big, capable hands latched on to her wrist and Chloe smiled. “No, I'm not leaving. Just let me get to my laptop and I'll come back with you.”

He was looking up at her with a serious, helpless expression. She dropped down next to him and he let go of her hand. Chloe moved it over to his leg and rubbed his knee. There was no denying she was traumatized, but what he'd been through was worse.

“Does it hurt?”

His brow furrowed, his eyes narrowing as if in great effort, but eventually Davis nodded. He took her hand from his knee and brought it up to his chest. He touched her fingertips to his chest and lowered his hand, leaving her the choice of moving her own away. Chloe spread her fingers and looked into his brown eyes. His heart was beating strong despite her betrayal.

There was a sudden wave of heat rising up her face, then she was crying on him, making whining sounds and shaking. Davis cuddled her and he was the one to rock them this time. He was silent, but she could feel him wanting her to be comforted. He pried her away from his wet shirt and his lips curved gently on her eyelids. He lapped and kissed her tears away, and she was so fascinated by it Chloe forgot she was crying at all.

His flat palm patted along her hair, as if his fingers weren't working to rifle through and mess it up. She gathered a small bundle and he leaned in to take it in his lips, drawing it along and slightly into his mouth. His nose mushed into her jaw and he gasped quietly. She absorbed the quiet and wondered how he could feel so big and masculine, but also like a favourite puppy in her arms. She just wanted his eyes to light up like before, and know he would be okay.

Davis stood suddenly with his arms clamped around her waist. She gulped as he turned them around, fumbling a bit as he fit her on her back on the sofa. He held her down with one hand while he climbed up next to her. His hip fit next to her, but he had to put a lot of his weight on her belly. Davis let her wiggle around for a minute until the pressure was evenly distributed. He ran an arm under her neck like a pillow.

It was inevitable that she would go to sleep that way. Davis had made them both surprisingly comfortable and he was purring in his throat to the tune of something she'd heard on the radio a few times. He felt like safety. She had long ago decided to ignore information taken from movies about monsters and freaks. There was no legitimate reason why a person who had miraculously survived, or even been reanimated, would crave human flesh or be at all dangerous. The worst effect of Davis in his present state was that she'd have to condition her hair to make up for the way he was holding strands of it in his mouth to gnaw between his lips.

She turned her head toward him and felt him kiss the bridge of her nose. Chloe went to sleep with a smile.


Sunlight woke her, and forced Chloe to admit she was really entangled with a Davis who couldn't seem to speak or think beyond the instinctive tactile compulsion they had always denied between them. She poked him until he got up and offered his hand to help her.

Still a gentleman, even after you kill him, she thought absurdly.

There was a small fridge in her inner office, and Chloe took him by the hand to lead the way to scavenge something for him There was no handbook for coming back to life, but common sense was always useful. He liked warmth; to be touched and talked to. He knew her and was able to recognize simple instructions. Rest had made his shaking abate.

He was just a grown-up Kryptonian man who had had a few rough days, and she had played this out with Clark more than once. She packed the meagre breakfast into her purse and locked up behind them. Davis followed her up the stairs slowly, having to watch his feet a few times, but he made it without falling.

Chloe sat Davis on the low lounger someone from another office had brought up. The roof was shared, though she was the only one who spent such long hours in the building. It used to be Isis that made her so late to leave for home, but now it was an emotional need to be away from her former home with Jimmy. She sank down on her knees in front of Davis and looked at the horizon. The sun was coming up, and if Davis was anything like Clark, he'd soak up the radiation and recover.

He gripped her hand as she stood, but Chloe shushed him gently. It had been a long night, nearly pinned by his weight as he chewed on her hair and mumbled words that weren't English if they were words at all. She towed her purse over by the handle, taking a bottle of orange juice and a shrink-wrapped pack of beef jerky out. It wasn't going to do much for him physically, but the normal motions and sensations of eating would bring him back to himself. She showed him both, and he took them out of her hands to lay them aside.

"Davis," she complained, but smiled. His hands were working much better after a few hours of practice groping her hair and clothes. Each finger moved independently and with the steadiness she expected from such a good paramedic. He even curved his mouth into a tiny smile as he gave an apologetic little shrug.

He pulled her down to sit with him, nuzzling her face as he kissed her mouth. Chloe found nothing lacking in it, all the passion and self he had thrown at her unexpectedly was present in the sweet toying of his tongue. He even cupped her face the same and pulled back with a twinkle in his eyes.

"You're feeling better. I'm glad," she told him. "But we're not up here for that. The sun should help you."

He immediately leaned away to strip off his sweater and t-shirt. Davis gave a brief shiver as the cool morning hit his skin, and she relented. Holding him, Chloe ran her hands over his back. He snuggled in and proceeded to grope her thighs.

"How are you making horny zombie come-ons charming," she wondered out loud. He made a small, strangely spaced exhale she realized was the tiniest laugh.

If he wasn't so cold she might have indulged him, but his skin was freezing. All moisture seemed to have leeched out, and it made painfully harsh scrubbing sounds just from being touched. Chloe nudged him back and opened the juice. He took it with a hint of irony. "No, it's not the cure, but you need fluids. I don't have an IV kit around, Mr. Paramedic."

She watched him as he drank it cautiously, obviously having trouble swallowing the first few times. As the juice wet his throat, she could see the minute flinches stop. Davis reached for the beef jerky himself, and opened it eagerly. He had to do a lot of chewing, but he ate it all and politely tucked the wrapper in his pocket.

“Okay,” she told him sternly. “If you've come around enough not to litter, you should be able to talk to me, now.”

His look was more layered than any zombie should be able to convey, a kind of rueful admiration for her demand but no attempt to answer. Davis tipped his head back and sighed deeply. The sunlight made his pale skin glow softly. Chloe couldn't help but smile as she watched him shift the muscles in his back. He stretched and curled up and unfurled like a big cat. His eyes remained shut when she reached behind his head and kneaded the back of his skull. Chloe's lap was instantly full of Davis, his upper body yearning to her.

“Your back is twitching like crazy. Here, let me see if I can get that calmed down.” She touched a cramping spot and he took a deep breath. Chloe felt around the spot with her fingers, knowing he was tense with agony. “I'm sorry.”

Davis gave a little huff of air that sounded like a dismissal of her apology. She tried another part of his back and the tightness under her fingertips told her it was torturous. Her hands would only make things worse and spread the cramping around. She stood up and moved around to the other side of the lounger. Davis followed her with his eyes, finally turning his head forward as Chloe sat cross-legged behind him. She licked her lips and pressed them gently on the back of his shoulder.

Sometimes Davis had looked at her with bottomless need, and she'd known anything she wanted to do to him would be welcome. Before she'd killed him, Chloe had been flattered. She ran her palms over her own knees to dry up nervous sweat. They reached around his waist and held each other. He relaxed into the possessive action and tipped his chin to his chest. Davis was terrifying in surrender.

Her tongue came out to lap gingerly on the cramping muscles. She ran it upward with a solid stroke, letting the skin get warm and wet. They were swaying together, his willing slump a tribute to his trust. Chloe pushed the thoughts out of her way and kept finding those angry knots of tension. The flat of her tongue worked out most of them, and the others loosened under her knuckles. She ran out of problem areas and just admitted to herself that she was enjoying it. Giving a tongue bath to an undead Davis Bloome was the best thing that had happened to her in years.

Her arms around him moved up his chest and hugged him back to her body. He was damp and heated from her mouth, soaking out the blouse that was wrinkled from sleeping in it. Chloe rose to her knees and licked the back of his neck, following the tendons to his ear. Davis moved faster than he could have a half hour before, breaking her hold around his waist and slipping out of the rest of his clothes.

Metropolis was still in the quiet mode of very early morning, but Davis' pale buttocks flexing as he stripped felt like a beacon. She watched him and waited for him to turn. He stretched to the sun, reached up for it like his fingers could close around it and take the energy more directly. For someone so white-skinned, the sun suited him. He turned and smiled at her with more than a hint of flirtation. His cock stood firm against his belly.

“Thank you,” Davis told her softly. He pulled her to her feet, watched her struggle for even a stupid reply. Chloe's legs shuffled awkwardly together and he opened her shirt with more dexterity than she had with the silly pearl buttons.

“I'm glad,” she blurted out, tears in her eyes. “I'm glad it didn't work. I didn't want you to die.”

His soft, senstive mouth could make all the distinct shapes of quiet, considerate emotions. It curved down into a frown of sympathy. Davis didn't think of himself, she'd suspected. He only thought of how his problems could hurt other people. He wasn't sad for his continued suffering but for her suffering over his death.

“It means more that you were willing to try, because you didn't want it to happen,” he explained. “I didn't want to die, either, not when you put your hand up to mine. Maybe it's all my own fault for changing my mind.”

Warm palms parted her blouse and pushed it away. Chloe shrugged out of it and kicked her shoes off. She couldn't stop staring into his eyes now that they were sending out those conflicting waves of warmth and caution. She hauled her pants off and pressed on him. Panties didn't keep her from getting the whole heat of his arousal. She bent her arms around and unclasped her bra. The morning would be bright and warm enough if they were touching.

Davis was down on his knees in front of her, fingers down the sides of her panties. He pulled at them and they eased away with the last of her reservations. It was so clear that all of their meetings came to this moment. It was so easy between them because it was supposed to happen.

He looked up at her as she stepped out of the last of her clothing. Davis was glowing with desire and she squeezed with her thighs until the dizzy thrill of it faded back to an ache. His face moved between her legs and his tongue slicked along the curls there. He pulled them straight and crunched them between his teeth gently, being careful not to pull.

“Chloe, I won't be . . .” He trailed off and stood up, digging two fingers up into her and pumping them. She held on to his arms and quivered. Her body swept in to tease up along his front, and Davis gritted his teeth. “This first time I won't be able to wait for you. I'm sorry.”

She honestly didn't care, cared even less when he used his massive strength to pick her up and lower her to the lounger like some kind of museum piece. It was one thing to be picked up and saved, and another visceral coiling to feel cherished by it. Chloe opened herself as wide as he needed, trying to help as he settled between her legs and lined up. She looked up at him, surrounded by a mellow glow of sunlight – alive.

“I love you,” she smiled.

He was nearly gone before he got inside. She cried out at the shock of the sudden penetration, but she was ready. Davis made her even wetter as he stiffened and came hard. He grunted her name and started a slow, even rhythm. Chloe stroked his back and enjoyed the hard feeling of him filling her. She knew he was going to go soft and it wouldn't be enough time for her.

The closeness was nice, and he would make it up to her on another day. He had just come back from the dead, and she'd heard worse excuses for disappointing her sexually.

“Davis, it's okay, we're okay,” she told him after a few minutes. He was still hard, but that had to be fading fast. Her legs slid up in an embrace along with her arms. “It's okay.”

“We could be better,” he said deeply, his voice holding a joking lilt. “Close your eyes and feel the sun, Chloe. We'll come together this time.”

He sounded assured of himself, and so matter of fact. She realized she'd been forgettting again that he was Kryptonian. Not only was he very strong, his endurance was amazing. He wasn't still hard, he was hard again. She chuckled to herself and relaxed back into the cushion. Davis' hand slid under her neck and picked her up. He kissed her smoothly, his tongue lightly flavoured like juice. They breathed in sync. Her hands found his shoulder blades and clung to them like handholds on a mountain. He was big above her, mostly off her skin but close enough to heat the parts that weren't getting any sun. Every thrust sent bursts of pleasure sparking along her abdomen and up her chest.

“That's good,” she mumbled. “Really good.”

“Gets better, soon.”

He lowered her down and came down on her himself, letting his weight touch her all over. Her breasts crushed as her nipples dragged with raw friction. Davis's mouth was on her neck, catching her hair in it, too, in a way that didn't seem like an accident. He chewed on her skin through the curtain of hair, and she turned her head to help. Her feet braced and he cupped her hips.

“Davis!” Twelve hours ago she had been sobbing on the floor, watching as Oliver's men carried away his body. His body now was so completely engrossing there was no resemblance. Davis moved in her, pulling all the way out and shoving hard past the instinctive clench of her body. He was leaving marks on her hips and forcing her muscles into the kind of orgasm that was nearly painful. She opened her eyes to a stellar view of his rapt expression, a flare of morning light bleaching all details about the sky behind him.

Chloe was so hot, so restless. She bit her lip and it wasn't enough. Her nails dug in. She kicked at his legs and pounded her hips up to meet him as he came down into her. She kissed him and made loud, muffled noises of effort. Her wet hair flicked over her face and Davis nudged it off with his nose. He was looked at her, gazing deeply from brown eyes that she'd given up on ever having gaze at her again.

“Go on, Chloe, go,” he urged her.

The pinch to her clit happened at the same time as the nip on her chin and bruising grip on her ass. The unleashing of force everywhere dazzled her for a long, loud shout, then brought it all back to her center. Davis was pulsing come down into her again, and she let herself enjoy the hot recklessness of it. His head tossed as he jerked in her arms. She clamped her legs around him and kept him there, basking in the heat of Davis and the sun that was recharging him.

“You're alive,” Chloe whispered with awe, once her voice was back.

“More than ever,” he confirmed in a peaceful tone. “Did you mean what you said”

Her mouth went dry, and he pulled out to let her drink some juice. Chloe nodded uncertainly, “I did. I don't understand how you can love me, now, but there's no point in taking back something that's true.”

Davis reached out as if to hug her, but he held her chin for a punishing bite to her lip. She wrinkled her nose at him and rubbed at her pout. “Don't understand it. Just know it. Love was never meant to make sense. I came back because I love you. I don't know how it works. I don't really care.”

She didn't care either. They curled up under the sun and listened to the parking lots nearby fill with cars and people. His fingers wrapped themselves in her hair and lifted it gently to slide the golden strands along his lips.

By the morning cigarette breaks, Chloe and Davis escaped to her car and left the roof to her neighbours.