davis bloome versus the pickle jar

Reccing Notes: Stories with Lois are the most fun to read, just because she's as blatantly obvious about the eye fornication as we are. Pitch perfect Lois voice, and some cute/hot/messy Chlavis in a compromising situation. Of sorts.

by kitten/nonky at defying mythos
1860 words, nc-17(for lois's potty mouth), plastique/alternate universe

Lois had only found out when they were leaving that she was the third wheel on the bicycle built for two people fucking.
The little house in the outskirts of a farm town seemed quiet. Everything was clean, if not perfectly tidy. It wasn't ideal. It wasn't without flaws, but it was a real home. Lois knew it well, and knew the otherness of her Uncle Gabe's house was completely unnatural.

Well, Chloe didn't used to bang guys in the house in high school, the brunette thought acidly. The incipient porn vibes are bound to make any place strange.

Lois approached with caution, sure her cousin and the hot paramedic - who was not her cousin's boyfriend but followed her everywhere – were fucking in her Uncle Gabe's kitchen. Uncle Gabe was not at home, having received a work trip only hours before the weekend Chloe, Lois, Davis and Clark were supposed to visit. It was a sign, surely. A sign Lois would have heeded had she known before they were three quarters of the way to their destination.

It started out a family trip, the two cousins going back to Smallville to visit Chloe's father. The blond mentioned it to Davis, who found himself suddenly at loose ends that same weekend, and dying to meet 'the man who raised the legendary Chloe Sullivan.' He had done everything but make a sign asking to be invited.

Including Clark had been Chloe's idea, so as to further prove the notion that Davis was just a friend like Clark was – though their mutual stalking and eyesex would forever exhibit them as bad liars. Clark had decided at the last minute not to lose his weekend at work, and given his apologies to Chloe over the phone. Lois had only found out when they were leaving that she was the third wheel on the bicycle built for two people fucking.

From the way Davis' eyes scorched Chloe's skirt off when she bent to put her suitcase in the trunk, they did it hard enough to for protective gear to be advisable. Little cousin could claim chastity all she wanted, but Davis Bloome opened her car door, untangled her seat belt for her, and sang on the drive. He turned in his seat, gazed at her blond head, and serenaded her sweetly to every song that came on for a full hour. He actually sang quite well, but that wasn't the point. Chloe giggled at him, and turned pink in the face, but she also didn't stop him. Lois felt like she was going to have to dive under the car to avoid being part of the action.

They pulled up to an empty driveway, and Lois was peacefully informed it was just the three of them, as if it wasn't the bell tolling doom for her cool, relaxed weekend. She was going to have to watch every moment for the signals that preceded bouts of denial-fueled lovey-dovey crap. She would have to figure out whether Chloe was giving her the 'privacy, please' glance or the 'save me from his over-eager gonads' glance. At least there was a grace period after arrival, in which it would just look pathetically needy for Davis to feel up the tiny blond he doted upon.

He was doing a pretty good job hiding his erection as he moved luggage and accepted caressing help out of his jacket. Lois decided they were safe for the moment.

She immediately asked for the car keys and went on a liquor store run that took at least three hours. She had visited every old haunt in Smallville, and bought a variety of fudge flavours she was considering sharing if the visit wasn't too awkward.

She had been delighted to realize Smallville Video still had her on file, and rented four slasher movies. Chloe could try canoodling to those, but she wasn't the fawning, eye-covering chick. Usually, she would lean over and mention something like how a chainsaw could never start up that easily after being submerged in water, or how flares just did not give off enough light to illuminate an underground cathedral buried by mudslides. Lois was armed with everything she knew to make the awkward moments smoother, so she had no choice but to go back to the house.

There were indeterminate noises coming from the kitchen, and then a sharp shattering of glass.

“OH!” Chloe's voice, sounding choked and pained. “Davis, it's in my eye!”

“Damn it,” he replied, sounding contrite and a little dazed. “I'm sorry. Here, just get to the sink.”

Lois shook her head and clutched her booze and horror movies. Trust Chloe to find a nice guy and still get hurt. Davis was even a paramedic, so he should know better. He'd seen horrific childbirth up close and personal, and the ugly effects of STDs. Lois had given him the benefit of the doubt, knowing he and Chloe had to be safe because anything else would just be stupid. Apparently, Davis was going to need those death threats after all. She put her weekend survival kit down gently.

“Jeez, Dimples,” she said loudly, kicking the kitchen door open. “If a lady gives you the personal touch, the least you can do is aim.”

She fixed her eyes on the details, trying to ignore any nudity and gross fluids. Everything was dripping with an intense, briny smell. He had her baby cousin bent over the sink, but they were both clothed. If anything, it looked like Chloe and Davis were re-enacting 9 ½ Weeks, or perhaps making sandwiches.

“Lois, don't pick on him,” her infirm relative pleaded from her upside down look under the kitchen faucet. “I asked Davis to open the pickle jar.”

There was a metal cover on the floor, the green colour signifying its contents. It wasn't the worst cover-up Lois had ever witnessed. It did need some polish to be believable, though.

“I'll just bet you did! Who could blame you, but you have to have standards here, Chloe! It really doesn't matter how he blinds you – the point is – Blind!”

Bits of bottle crunched underfoot as Lois barged in to get a better idea of Chloe's wounds. She wasn't bleeding anywhere. She was even still in her bra. Davis held her in a loose embrace, his hands sturdy and gentle.

“I'm so sorry, Chloe,” he was saying, stroking her hair as water dribbled across her eyes. “I'm pretty sure there's no glass in there, but we should go to the hospital to check.”

“I'm fine, I'm fine,” the patient said, directing the first to her cousin and then repeating it more sexfully for her personal paramedic. “Davis, you don't have to be sorry, it was an accident. The pickle juice was just full of vinegar, but I'm okay now.”

She stood up slowly, and he picked her up to perch on the counter. Pressing himself between her knees, Davis held Chloe's face. His thumbs ran unconsciously along her cheekbones and he was breathing soothing words across her mouth as she let him study her sore eyes. If Lois was measuring generously, she might agree there was an inch of space between Davis' pouty lips reciting incantations of atonement and Chloe's soothing smile.

“Whoa, boy! You've got some medical intensity there, Davis, I'll give you that. Chloe, on a scale of that time with the cherry bomb to that time with the back window at the rave club, how bad is it?”

Down around Davis' trim waist, Chloe's knees pressed protectively closer to his sides. She rubbed his shoulder and barely made the pretext of noticing anyone but Davis existed.

“It's not stinging anymore, nothing hurts. My eyes are just freaked out,” Chloe said sincerely. “Really, Davis, I'm okay. I'm okay, Lois, and none of this is his fault.”

And she stroked his head like a puppy, making his whole body shift toward her hand in needy charm. Lois sighed at the identical blissfully helpless expressions on her cousin and her cousin's boyfriend.

“It's so gross in here,” she muttered to herself. “DIMPLES!”

He barely flicked his eyes away from Chloe's green ones, and went back into her loving gaze without prompting. If not for the height of the counter, Davis might actually be in Chloe. Lois clapped her hands to get his attention.

“You're not one of those uber-Catholics who won't use condoms and birth control, are you? You don't think Xs on a calendar keep babies away?”

“Lois,” Chloe yelped. She cupped the back of his neck as if he were a baby woodland creature instead of a potential big bad wolf. “That's a really personal question.”

The impersonal questions don't get the important information, Lois tried to eye-beam to her. I'm vetting his penis for landing for you!

Turning slowly, so Chloe's hands didn't fall off his shoulders, Davis faced her proudly. “I use both, because it's a good idea and if you care about someone enough to have sex you should show that by taking care of that person. I'm clean. I get tested regularly because sometimes I get called to pretty messy scenes. Blood gets on you eventually; it just happens in my line of work. Never married, no kids, GED, two-year paramedicine program, decent grades but I've never claimed to be a genius. I used to run with a gang, when I was living on the street, but that was years ago. I was arrested once, for grafitti. I don't smoke, drink or do drugs. I don't date more than one woman at a time. I work a lot, I try to keep my savings for a rainy day. I am interested in marriage and kids, eventually. Anything else?”

Over his shoulder, Chloe's smug grin was topped with a little dance of her upper body. Lois scowled and leaned in to intimidate him. “How's your driving record,” she challenged. “Do you pay your taxes on time?”

“Clear, and my insurance is up to date. I never speed, and I always signal,” he supplied calmly. “I pay my taxes on time every year.”

Stalky Davis must have done his homework to impress Uncle Gabe, she thought cynically. Well, I'll keep my eye on him anyway.

“Good. Now, move out of the way,” Lois said sternly. She nudged his body from the snuggly hold on Chloe.

“She's not wearing shoes and there's glass all over-”

Bracing, Lois took her cousin's arms and draped her in a fireman's carry. It was tricky for a second, then the blond settled down.

“Lois!”

“Clean up the kitchen, Dimples. I'll take care of our girl, here,” she ordered.

He stood back and watched in wonder as the taller young woman displayed an unusual amount of strength. Chloe waved meekly as she was carried off. He shook his head slowly, awed by Chloe's cousin, in the truest sense. Lois frightened and amazed him, and he was going to have to hide his emerging powers a lot better to fool her. The next time Chloe couldn't open a jar, she was going to have to work it out herself.

At the very least, Davis didn't want to dodge leading questions about being an alien invader for the rest of his life.

truth serum

Reccing Notes: Just how much did Chloe's braniac powers play into her surviving the electro shock machine machine in Committed? Chloe tries to find an answer to the psychotic jeweler's question and finds she's engaged, dizzy and at Davis's door.

by vagrantdream at defying mythos
754 words, pg-13, committed

Lois told her she needed a drink. She had a couple, a warm grounding buzz through her belly jangling with the unbearable heat all over her skin. It was starting to be clear to her. She couldn't move out of this phase of hers without knowing. He wanted her, maybe unlike anyone. Maybe he was just....

"Do you have feelings for another man? I repeat, Miss Sullivan, do you have feelings for another man?"

Chloe knew that electroshock restraints on her wrists to match the lie detector were illegal cohersion, Yet, for the split moment before her new powers had crashed the device she'd thought about it. Jimmy looked grateful, but she wasn't thinking of him.

Blurred images of close cropped brown hair, a full mouth turning up in quickly covered-up dismay. He'd been inches from moving into her personal space, spilling memories of his childhood to her mere hours after they'd met. She was unavailable, but he'd been willing to risk his job for her.

Chloe wondered if he'd taste warm and minty like Clark, or like Jimmy's bubblegum, or like something more quintessentially him that she could never forget. She'd thought about being able to brush a hand across that dress uniform of his or his how hw might have touched her with shame and picket fences and mortgages weighing on her mind.

She'd thought about it and now she couldn't stop. Lois told her she needed a drink. She had a couple, a warm grounding buzz through her belly jangling with the unbearable heat all over her skin. It was starting to be clear to her. She couldn't move out of this phase of hers without knowing. He wanted her, maybe unlike anyone. Maybe he was just....

It was too late for doing this with any claim to innocence, but her hand was on the door, and thumping before she could turn and run away. The door pulled open with a sudden swing, and she couldn't see more than a tall, defined glow of blinding skin. "I want to be around you." She choked.

She had a moment of his eyes, crinkling at the red dress in confusion and her legs feeling very strange. Before she knew it Davis's hands were up on her elbows, holding her up. "Chloe. You're burning up, how did you find me--"

"It wasn't difficult." Davis had a tidy locker, and a couple of suddenly helpful ambulance partners. "I was thinking about what you said. Only now, I think you might have to kick my ass."

He let her go with loosening fingers and Chloe realized that it wasn't because he thought she was any steadier. Davis backed up in pajama bottoms and nothing else, not like he was embarrassed, but like he was courteous enough to want to dress for her. He was getting to far away. Chloe tottered forward, pressed a hand flat onto his chest. His shoulders tightened and shivered long enough for her mouth to knock into his.
He tasted like she supposed a guy would taste after you assaulted him in the middle of the night. Toothpaste, hints of sleep and saliva and something earthy. His lips were soft but full enough, rough enough that they didn't give under hers.
He couldn't get a word in if he tried, but his fingers clutched into her hips and drew her against his body. She could feel him through the flimsy fabric of her dress. His palm curved into her neck and he pulled his mouth away. She was so warm.

"What did you have?" he rasped.

"Truth serum doesn't exist, you know. I just looked at the rest and I don't know if it's worth holding onto."

His eyes were dark, shining, when he pulled away from her shoulder.
"I want you right now. I can't say I'll be brave enough tomorrow." Her legs had reached up to strangle his waist, and she could almost feel the friction burn of him moving, the wall scraping holes in her dress.

Davis palmed her shoulder, let her down. "Please." He had to give her something, something to tell her she wasn't an engaged idiot who'd just thrown herself at another man. His arms around her were a slow lulling heat, but she fought the release. There was hunger enough that his lips strained into her space.

"I've never felt the way I feel about you. But I'm not going to let it happen this way. You're going to want to talk about this." he said carefully. "I'll be here when you wake up. I'm not rejecting you. I want to be able to keep you."

Chloe woke up at six A.M., stomach wanting to heave, and found that there was a bucket by the side of the bed, and two of his arms and legs were slung over hers.

thrall

Reccing Notes:Only one of the several vampire! Davis fics I'll be writing. Oh Sam Witwer as Aiden on Being Human, I wonder why?

Chloe has her way of stalking stories and vigilante vampires.

by vagrantdream at her/my livejournal
1031 words, pg-13, alternate universe

He was going to eat the man for the price of her press pass. It would have been satisfying if she wasn’t perfectly aware that she was a happy meal too.

Chloe watched the vampire stalk behind the purse-snatcher. Davis Bloome, paramedic by day, fiend by night. Always took the night shifts, had an unearthly physique, distaste for coffee, duct tape over the binds of his windows, quick reactions and an uncanny amount of awards for saving lives. Not to mention, his eyes ate her when she helped him with that oxygen tank.

He wasn’t turned so she could see his eyes, but dressed in the kind of flimsy thin shirt you imagined went out with Marlon Brando. Chloe watched the impermeable shift of muscles under the thin cloth, immobile. If the utter silence thing didn’t work out he could win on awe.

The man he was stalking didn’t hear him, but he started to run. He probably felt the chill. The vampire threw his head forward, a lion chasing a gazelle; he was going to eat the man for the price of her press pass. It would have been satisfying if she wasn’t perfectly aware that she was a happy meal too.

The victim slammed and crashed against the garbage can. Chloe tried not to jump at the click and muffled noise against the wall. She could nearly hear the gurgle of his blood, but that wasn’t her problem; he wasn’t the nicest guy. The garlic itched in her bra; it would be enough to weaken Davis until she could talk some sense into him. He was taking crime off the streets, but drinking the criminal wouldn’t make a positive change long term, unless it happened to be Lionel.

He was coming to her; she could hear him breathing in the air, see her purse in his long fingers. She didn’t move, didn’t breathe, looked through slitted eyes. He could smell her. That was the point of jumping in front of that car, impregnating her scent with the formaldehyde and dead flesh from the morgue and then falling on the sidewalk with her purse in plain sight in the Suicide Slums. He stood above her, crouching before she realized he’d moved. He was looking at her press pass. He reached out with a cool hand, lifted her off of the road and onto the sidewalk and he didn’t seize up, already. Her lungs hurt.

Chloe noticed that of all things that he was particularly attractive, probably not all shriveled like a prune because he drank so many thieves. He had a dimple in his chin, a slim red line of blood dripping down the neck of his shirt...right against her skin as he drew close and curious. His lips were very red and probably cool if she tried to touch them... Chloe snuck in the lightest inhale, soundless.

Dizzy, she felt his nose, cool and light, tracing down the side of her neck and into her collarbone. He was taking her scent and Chloe bit the shudder down; dead women didn’t do that.

“You don’t smell dead.” He said quietly. He didn’t prod her, but Chloe felt her eyes flutter open slowly.

“I have low blood sugar…”

Davis cocked his head. A feral, sniffing vampire knew she was alive, and trying to fool him. Clearly there were only two options, her hero speech required she not be at the disadvantage. Chloe promptly latched onto his mouth, tasting the bloody tang of about five unsavory characters. His mouth stiffened, shock but grazed her back.

Davis pulled her legs out of his lap for balance, eyes narrowing like bright light was shining into his eyes. He had cool, soft lips though and she didn’t feel anything very sharp when her tongue was in his mouth. A cold finger skimmed down her face, and his lips parted.

His fingers skimmed along her cold, goose-bumped knees. Maybe the bloodlust that meant that vampires did it in a pile of dead bodies. This was bad; this was not things were done…His hands closed under her knees, and Chloe started to think she was rather open-minded. Davis had slipped his hands under her and started to carry her. Maybe she should have kneed him in the nose instead of kissing. He was going to haul her back into his coffin or closet or freezer and make her into a shrieking vampire wife.

Chloe jostled her leg free in a mad panic, getting her hands tangled in his shirt. She had a tazer strapped to her thigh, just about where his hands were. “Where are you taking me?”

“Back to your apartment. It’s not safe here.”

“Hey-look-My apartm-You’re stalking me!”

“You left your cell phone at my apartment. I made a call; Lois guessed my name. Chloe-you could have said so. What do you think about stalking?”

It was better she didn’t answer that. Davis watched her and swung his other hand down for her downed purse, holding to her with one arm. Chloe dug her fingers into his back like small claws, just in case he wasn’t used to this sort of this thing.

His nose pressed against her neck. Davis inhaled deeply. He was a vampire and he was going to drink her all up. She couldn’t find them but he had sharp teeth. Chloe remembered to think of mud and gray corpses… Davis lying on a slab all white and hard…

“So you weren’t going to sneak in and take advantage of me some night?” She wavered.

Davis opened his eyes and blinked at her. They seemed to get softer and deeper the longer they talked.

“Actually, I need you to invite me in, first.”

Oh-okay. He ate people! Chloe clamped her hands down on her mouth and stared. He looked ravenous.

Her fingers just crept, like Renfield and trickled down to his lips. He was pressing against her. Come to think of it, he felt a little bit like marble.



Davis's meal was groaning and lurching around on the floor when he lifted her up, tucking her like a small, groping bundle against him. Chloe was a little bit sorry that Clark would have a hell of a headache tomorrow morning.

baby foster

Reccing Notes: After the drama and horror of Doomsday have faded, Chloe and Davis find themselves taking one more step towards a life together as her pregnancy test comes out positive. Wonderful callbacks to Plastique, with the influence of Davis's foster-kid upbringing and Chloe's baby-crazy hormones.

Read it and tell me you don't get warm fuzzies. I dare you.

by sarcastic_fina at defying mythos
1962 words, pg-13, future fic

Bravado cracking, his smile faded and he nodded slowly. "I want to be everything you see in me."
Positive. Positive. Positive.

Just like the other six pregnancy tests she'd taken the time to pee on.

Eyes wide, Chloe stared at the three latest lined up on the coffee table in front of her. Pregnant. She was pregnant. As in, there was a small human growing inside her stomach. Her hand fell automatically, palm splayed across her still flat navel. Gulping, she sat back into the couch, her shoulders slumping. This was… not part of the grand scheme of things. Or, okay, it might have been. Years and years into the future. But now? Now she was on the run with Davis Bloome; a former serial killer separated from the alien part of him that wanted and needed blood.

Not for the first time, she questioned how her life had turned out this way. One minute she was just a curious teenage reporter, the next she had and lost her chance at the Daily Planet. And then there was sweet, naïve, normal Jimmy, who didn't fit into her life like she'd hoped he would. Not when she was playing superhero go-to-girl behind his back. And when it all fizzled apart because of the build-up of lies, not to mention her involvement with Davis, she was both distraught and relieved.

Normal was not part of Chloe Sullivan's make-up. If anything, it was the one main ingredient she was severely lacking. And after she'd used black kryptonite to separate Doomsday from the man she knew deep down was good, they ran… Away from all that threatened to separate them. Did she miss Clark? Lois? The team? Of course. But they wouldn't understand. They couldn't.

What she felt for Davis was beyond them; it was a physical and emotional connection she'd never known the likes of before. How he made her feel just by looking at her, that smile of his with dimples that spoke of such affection… She felt loved when she was with Davis. Prized and wanted; always.

So she should be happy, really. After four years on the run, they'd settled down in a nice town. Easily overlooked by most people; just a tiny little place that was often passed by without a second glance. She'd always thought herself a city girl, but it turned out so long as the rewards were in the guise of a good man who wanted to spend his whole life loving her, she'd go wherever, do whatever.

And after all their running, finally settling down in a place where the biggest news was who the new Deputy Sheriff would be was like finding normal and fitting in. Especially when all of her hacking paid off and she was able to create new and acceptable identities for them. She knew the truth, however, even if her neighbors never suspected a thing. They looked at Chloe and Davis Foster as if they were just regular people, out to make a living and enjoy their lives as they came. They had no idea that he once killed people with his bare hands; that he'd once had an evil in him that could destroy the very world.

When they looked at Davis, they saw a mild-mannered, handsome and charming man who worked at the local firehouse and lent his heroics to the small town whenever they needed. They might gossip over them, but it was hardly anything to make the hairs on Chloe's neck stand up or her spidey-sense kick in, telling them to run. Most of the word going around had to do with her and Davis being that sweet, affectionate couple that could hardly keep their hands off each other. And wasn't that exactly how they got into this position?

Pregnant.

Biting her lip, she leaned forward once more to see the tests, wanting to make sure this wasn't a very unsubstantiated hallucination. And just to be extra sure, she pinched her self. Wincing, she rubbed her arm when nothing happened except a little biting pain. So it was true then, there was no getting away from it. She and Davis were pregnant; they were going to have a baby. A… She smiled suddenly. A baby.

She could fully appreciate skepticism. It wasn't as if she grew up with a great mother-figure. Moira had gone away and confined both herself and her abilities long before Chloe could truly get a grasp of what motherhood might be like. But then, she did have Martha Kent's influence, and if that wasn't the best mother alive, she didn't know who was. But seeing was not knowing and so it was with both anticipation and fear that she opened her laptop, ready to accept her current situation and study it to death. She would not walk into this blind.

Four hours.

She spent four hours on her laptop, researching everything from symptoms to techniques in helping her child learn early, to give him or her a better chance at being a small brain. The only time she removed herself from the computer was to toss away every coffee related grocery she had in the house in a fit of motherly support. Later she'd regret it and think herself baby-crazy, but at the time it seemed a smart thing to do.

Chloe hardly looked up when the door opened and Davis walked in, tossing the keys to their beat-up blue Ford truck on the counter and shrugging his jacket off. He'd been at the firehouse overnight and usually when he returned home, she'd have had dinner ready for them or she'd have jumped into his arms, happy to see him home and eager to get him back into their room. But she was distracted today and busy, so she didn't look up from her laptop when he stepped into the living room of their small, rent-to-own house.

"Uh, Chloe…?" he greeted her, eyes darting all around.

She waved a hand absently, brows furrowed atop her eyes staring at her laptop searchingly. She'd been reading up on breast-feeding and was both curious and uncomfortable. She'd have to get over these things, and soon, but she figured she was allowed her immediate response in the beginning. She was sure when their son or daughter was put in her arms, she'd change her mind. There was always the option of formula, but from what she'd read it wasn't as healthy for the baby. Chewing her lip, she knew that even while she didn't technically know their child and she'd only just realized she was having one, she wanted the very best for him or her.

Suddenly, Davis was kneeling next to her, one of his large hands on her knee. "You wanna tell me something?" he asked, though the smile on his face was knowing.

Attention caught, she turned toward him, not sure how she was even going to word it. Only to see he was holding one of her many pregnancy tests.

"Guess it kind of speaks for itself," she murmured, frowning.

He lifted a brow, mouth curling with a smile. "That it does." He stared up at her thoughtfully. "But I think I'd like to hear it from you."

She didn't know why, but her eyes suddenly filled with warm tears. "I'm… We're…" A breathy laugh escaped her. "Guess all that hard work paid off, because we're going to have a little piece of ourselves around here in, oh… seven or so months."

She couldn't help but stare at him worriedly. While they'd talked of children at length, his biggest fear was always that somehow, some part of Doomsday might transfer over. So they'd been careful, really, on the occasions when they had enough sense to do so. And yes, she'd of course gone on the pill, but… Sometimes, life was just so hectic, and if she missed a few, she didn't even notice until it was too late. Given the nine pregnancy tests currently reading positive, she'd have to say it was definitely too late.

"Seven months," he repeated, eyes falling down for a moment. "Guess I should brush up on my handyman skills and get to work on baby-proofing everything… building a crib. You think they'd let us add on a bedroom?" he wondered, brows furrowed.

"Davis…" She stared at him. "Shouldn't you be freaking out?"

He chuckled shortly, grinning. "I think freaking out now would be a little late." He nodded, rising to sit down next to her. "So… we're having a baby…" He moved her laptop to the table and turned so he was facing her. "A baby we didn't expect and I seem to remember avoiding." He smiled. "But, honestly… Having a child with you is not world-ending… If anything, it's a jumpstart to our world…" He stared into her eyes searchingly. "So yeah, I'm terrified. That we'll need to stock up on black kryptonite or that I will suck horribly at being a father, but…" His hand cupped her stomach, palm pressed close and thumb stroking. "This is our family… And I will do whatever it takes to make sure they know we love them."

Breath shaking as it escaped her, she covered his hand with hers. "So we're doing this… We're going to be parents?" Eyes damp with tears, she looked up at him and grinned. "You are going to be an incredible dad."

He scoffed lightly. "I've only ever had really awful foster parents, but… I think if I do the opposite of everything they did, this little guy or girl will have a much better chance."

Squeezing his hand, she reached up to cup his face. "Trust me, I know you. Davis…" She smiled sweetly. "There is nobody else in the world that I would want this baby with. Nobody else that would be a better dad."

Bravado cracking, his smile faded and he nodded slowly. "I want to be everything you see in me."

Leaning forward, she pressed her forehead to his. "You already are."

Hand smoothing through her hair, he turned his head just slightly and slanted his mouth across hers. Smooth, warm lips met in a tender kiss that soon quickened into a passion filled embrace. Dragging her into his lap, his arms wrapped tight around her; corded muscle banding around her body. Dragging her fingers through his hair, she met his furiously reaching mouth with her own, panting thickly. As his face buried in her neck, lips and teeth marking down her neck, she threw her head back and moaned. "This is how we got here in the first place," she muttered.

He chuckled. "I'm not complaining."

Gripping his shoulders tight, she couldn't say she was either.

In seven months, they would have a baby to call their own. The complications that might arise were unseen for now, but they could be many. Or, if Fate was feeling kind, they would get that one piece of normalcy they both deserved and their child would be an average little boy or girl that grew up under the watchful and loving eyes of two people who only wanted the best for them. Future unknown, the Fosters could only hope.

"I love you," Davis murmured against her throat, his voice hoarse and deep with truth. As his large, warm hand enveloped her stomach, he repeated the same sentiment to their unborn child, and both Chloe Sullivan and Chloe Foster felt their chest bloom with warmth.

How did she get so lucky? she wondered. Through all this, all that had happened, all that they'd run from, their lives were finally coming together in the most incredible way.

"We love you, too," she replied against his ear, closing her eyes and just holding him a moment. It was just the two of them now, but soon it would be three, and she couldn't wait.

rest stop

Reccing Notes: So Chloe and Davis run away together. After seeing Davis's clear horror in Prey, it always seemed to me that he would be the more reluctant of the two to embrace his survival and crossing the savior/saved lines he and Chloe had set up. Based on this vid I made. Would that I had the vid skills to make it happen. (^-^)/

by vagrantdream at defying mythos
1842 words, nc-17, alternate universe/beast

Chloe lifted herself up to him with flickering eyes. He remembered, briefly, the night they’d met, he wanted to be the hero her eyes clung to. The light in her eyes had been a heady rush. He’d woken up in the darkness of the alley that night, screaming.

As a boy, Davis Bloome had always been aware of something dark stirring over him. He hadn’t seen the eternal cycle of blood and death, then.
“So you shut yourself off from everyone.”

Chloe thought he was afraid. As long as he could remember, Davis hadn’t taken the time to grow attached to people or places, he lived with what he was given and didn’t try for more. “It wasn’t right, Davis.” She whispered, pretty, soft green eyes sticking to his in the half-darkness. “You’re human.” Chloe was the only person he’d met back in Smallville who would describe him like that. She had left with him soon after they found out the truth. He’d been on the edge of a breakdown, grasping at straws to assuage the transformations.

He was squelching her life by lingering near her, even now. She was aiding him; he felt it taint her as they moved from town to town, cleaning up mobs of murderers and thugs. Davis was afraid of a lot of things; he was guilty of more. Chloe understood and accepted the best compromise. She had him. “How did you live?”

Something in his chest hurt, melting away inside. “I found you.” Davis whispered. She’d told him he could use his powers to stop the senseless killing. He’d wanted nothing more than to die until she’d picked him up off the ground.

His feelings for her had driven him before, one glance and he could barely speak. Chloe closed her hand over his. Her small palm fit there, hid the stretcher calluses and disappearing scars on his. “You have me.” This was charged, heavy; this was more. “I used to help people like you, but none of them cared for more than what I could do for them. You have all of me.”

Chloe lifted herself up to him with flickering eyes. He remembered, briefly, the night they’d met, he wanted to be the hero her eyes clung to. The light in her eyes had been a heady rush. He’d woken up in the darkness of the alley that night, screaming.

Now, Chloe knew what he was-immortal, panicked, something that ought to exist only in nightmares of what her life could have become. She didn’t look at him any differently. I don’t have forever, Davis. He kissed her before the words could be spoken.

They had been subsisting off of light touches since they’d taken to the road. Any kisses were clinging and afraid; broken as soon as one of them came down on a hard surface. It was hardest to stop. She closed her eyes like he was hurting. Her mouth was hot and yielded easily, her gulps and breaths pulling themselves into his lungs. Davis wrapped an arm around her, fingers brushing the hollow of her back before she went off balance.

Chloe rubbed him into her body. He fisted the frail cloth breath and thrust blindly. She cried out. Heat, wet cotton, denim- the blood draining its way out of his brain caught up to him. Fingers brushed his lightly, whispering the cotton down her legs, flush moisture singeing at his cock. He grabbed at them, and held on, blinking painfully. The danger here was to her. When she opened her eyes, Davis couldn’t move.

“Take it, quick.” She said. Chloe was beautiful- her shoulders twitching, red from his hands, a flush making its way down her neck. She hadn’t had time to let her impulses out anywhere else; they usually talked more, but when they dealt with complex feelings this way there seemed less of a chance for tears. “I-I don’t want to do this on my own again.” She said. She smelled like apprehension and heat.

Her mouth found his neck and she was trying not to look at him. They’d both been taking small steps back to protect the other- but was it so hard to admit that that was useless? Her voice was small and gasping as he pushed her up against the closest surface he could find. Davis felt himself clench.

Blindness trickled into his eyes- a dark cloud vaguely reminiscent of his losses of consciousness. He could feel every contact of her knees with his, the small soft press of her tongue against her teeth, her wet intakes of breath. Chloe stumbled back into the coffee table, purplish jacket catching on the ratty lamp shade, dimming their tiny light bulb even further.

Chloe had seen what he was capable of. She was remarkably intelligent even without an alien construct in her head. She knew what it took to preserve her life and safety and did just the opposite. Her fingers locked his mouth to her neck, pulling the buttons out of the way so he could bury his face in soft skin. He closed his eyes and dragged his tongue over a peaking nipple. She made a soft, impatient sound and pushed her body needily up to his mouth. Arousal gave way to a solid, agonizing burn and it was hard to keep perspective when she was a trying to kiss his bottom lip with clingy uncoordinated motions. He aligned them and dipped his hand between her legs, finding the solid circular motion that she liked.

“Y-you.” She stuttered.

“No. Not yet.”

She groped at his lips, prised at them with her tongue, nudging him in. “Yes.”

The room was swimming, a cloud of motion. Chloe had wrapped her half clothed legs around his hips where he stood. Her fingers wrapped around him for a moment, stroked against feverish flesh and he literally couldn’t see past the glimmer gleam that was her eyes. They watered and winced when he pushed inside her completely. He didn’t fare much better when her muscles trapped him in sultry clasp. Chloe shifted her head, down on the desk, licking at her mouth, holding his hands over her hips. “Slow.” He groaned softly, not understanding if it was a command or a reassurance. “I want to be with you.”

Davis thrust into her a little harder, clenching his hands and eyes shut above her, trying to forget her mouth and the soft reciprocating motions of her body; he couldn’t come like a teenager, not now, even if it felt like he had the only thing he’d ever wanted. He needed to show her. Davis considered climbing over her but her face was already clenching at the awkward position. She was trying to get him where she needed him. Her inner muscles tightened in increasingly powerful ripples. “Uhuh. That's--that's it..”

No, he thought, biting into his bottom lip desperately.

He followed her tugs, higher inside her, and it was like she was exercising some invisible magnetic pull. The soft blurriness of her eyes and her wetness and the soft movements of her lips- ‘more’ driving him pound into her like a heedless, violent animal. “No.” He muttered, stilling and gasping, nudging back inside. She was open to him, so hot he could have sworn he’d burn up if he didn’t move a little. She scratched with hot fingers and he jerked.

“Yes. Davis…” The column of her neck rolled, so white and perfect he longed to brush his fingers there. Davis pumped into her from where he stood, wishing he had the power to twist and bend himself close enough to kiss it. His power was to bring death to everything he touched. She trusted him, somehow.

Her legs buckled against his back, softly, like the life had left the invisible, threatening faces under his fingers. She’d seen. Yet, she was helpless and needy and he wanted to hold her as she broke. Davis hunched his back to kiss her and her lips panted dryly against his. He clasped at her shoulders, the muscles jumping at the unexpected restriction. Chloe swiveled, legs quivering wildly as he surged in once more, a tell tale trickle signaling that he was losing it. She had to come.

There was a Chloe blanket over his thoughts, her face and her sweetness and how badly he needed her. How badly he wanted her to need him. “Yes. Yes. Y-“

His hands kept their hold, nearly bruising her. Chloe jerked and he was trapped inside hot agony, wrung out with warm squeezes. He felt warm, pouring himself into her so deeply he cried out and clutched not to go to his knees. The terror and blanketing defenses in his mind shattered into oblivion. He was empty except for Chloe and she was curving his head into her shoulder, murmuring.

Her hips lifted unconsciously up to his as she rode what remained of her climax out, grinding against his pelvis, lips parted tenderly. Davis could feel little shocks of it going through his system and groped to squeeze her hands while she felt it. Chloe uttered a sound and dropped her head back against the wall.

“What-what is it?”

“I think I must be in love with you.” She whispered. It had been their first time for everything. Hazed, he gathered Chloe back into his arms, her proximity like a drug in his system. It was all he wanted to hear and now all his mouth wanted to do was gape. He knew, but the words were new nevertheless.

“We’re going to be doing this more once we get out of here.”

Davis didn’t want to think of the ominous, bloody miles of road ahead of them. He didn’t have the heart to speak. Her hand trailed awkwardly against his shirt, and she was shaky and beaming. Chloe looked so- free-for a moment that it seemed almost a crime that the thing in him could hold her.

“Hey.” He breathed instead. The world had rarely been kind or good even in his ironic as life as paramedic, but he grasped onto hope through sheer will. Chloe had lived most of her life used and ignored by some of the most clueless men in the world. She loved him, somehow, unbelievably, and there had to be some order in the universe that said he would make her happy. His nose rubbed into her hair; the pang was bittersweet. He, not the beast, would kill anything that took that away from her. It felt like that time was coming closer.

Davis would have been lying to himself if he told himself he hid it from her. The smile in the corner of her eyes had dimmed a little.

“I’m sorry, Chloe. I love you.”

She didn’t expect the guilt and constant terror to disappear just because she took him inside her. Yet she almost could have sworn there had been a moment when she’d seen it all leave his face. She needed that for him.

“You should be sorry.” Chloe told him thoughtfully, dragging her head into his shoulder. “You’re heavy.”

i will hold you while the world falls to pieces

Reccing Notes: So let's talk about Stiletto- Davis's spined alter ego drags Chloe's potential killer down and makes mincemeat out of him. Oh so wrong, but somehow the perfect jumping place for a sexual chlavis relationship. (Just check out the tag. ;P)

xxamlaxx's characterization of Chloe as a strong woman in control of her desires and more than capable of hiding a body is pitch perfect. We can see, right from the getgo, why Davis is so completely smitten.

by xxlamlaxx at her livejournal

1189 words, nc-17, stiletto

“I’m sorry for what I did earlier.” He brushes his thumb across the line of red on her neck, the superficial cut too close to her jugular for comfort. He isn’t sorry and he never will be sorry because it saved Chloe’s life. The world is made of silence and concrete and the smell of copper. Blood gleams wet and red in trails on the floor, shines scarlet on Chloe’s skin as she kneels on her hands and knees beside him, grips an extra sponge between her fingers and scrubs. The crimson washes away in pink rivers of water, foamy soap, white bubbles that pop when she wipes the ground with a towel.

“That looks clean.” Blood has dried on Chloe’s palms, emphasizes the lines of her hands and fingers in ruby. “I’m going to go take a shower; I’ll bring you something to eat when I come back.” Chloe’s footsteps echo off the cold, isolating walls, bounce back and settle into silence as the basement doors close; a sliver of yellow light permeates the blackness of the cellar, shining from beneath the crack in the door. He waits for the light to fade, for the dark outlines of Chloe’s feet to gravitate out of sight, but instead they remain in place. He rests his ear against the cool metal of the door, hears the soft sound of Chloe crying, the thud of her body as it slides to the floor. He listens to her sob, shuddering inhalations, his fingertips flat against painted steel.

Chloe leaves after long moments of crying, of standing motionless, whispering apologies into the darkness. Chloe is as invincible as a sheet of paper in a rainstorm but he’s the only one who knows it. Chloe is supposed to be a foundation and a support beam but cement can crack and crumble just like wood rots and splinters. Expectations, responsibility, and worries are all weights on Chloe’s shoulders that his presence has no doubt only augmented. A myriad of contrite words sit heavily on his tongue and he presses his hands against the basement doors and pushes, steps into the light and freedom.

“Shouldn’t you be in the basement?” Droplets of water trickle from Chloe’s wet hair, land on the cotton of her t-shirt, soak into the material immediately. There are damp, dark spots on her shoulders and brown hair rather than gold. Her green eyes are uncharacteristically miserable; she radiates vulnerability as she runs a brush through her hair.

“I can go back down, if you want.” She looks at him with a modicum of fear blazing in her irises. She looks at him like he’s a monster, like he’ll hunt her down and tear her up and rip bone from flesh and muscle. When their eyes meet he can see it killing the man from earlier, turning a body to ooze, a puddle of blood and skin and tissue; the scene of horror reflecting in her eyes, playing over and over like a broken movie reel.

“No, it’s alright. Are you hungry?” She pads barefoot across the carpet, her long t-shirt stops at her mid-thigh. He tries to focus on the carpet, but his gaze is drawn to the golden, toned flesh on the back of her legs, the taught curve of her calf muscles. “I can cook you something.” Her slender hand closes around the refrigerator door handle; there are clinks of condiment bottles rattling together as she pulls it open. “Um..” She glances at him, a tinge of red rushing to her cheeks. “You might want to go downstairs and put on some clothes.” He realizes for the first time that he’s still naked, that his clothes are lying in scraps of cloth on the basement floor. “I’ll bring you a sandwich. No tomato right?”

“Yeah.” He walks back down into the basement, into the cold and the quiet, finds a pair of boxers in the drawer by his cot. “You could have told me I was naked earlier.” Chloe sets the plate down on the end of his cot, draws her hand back before their fingers can touch.

“You don’t buy something without inspecting the merchandise first.” Chloe is snark and wit and humor but she runs a hand through her damp hair, adjusts the hem of her t-shirt, tugs it down lower on her smooth thighs.

“I’m sorry for what I did earlier.” He brushes his thumb across the line of red on her neck, the superficial cut too close to her jugular for comfort. He isn’t sorry and he never will be sorry because it saved Chloe’s life and as much as he hates what he is, what he becomes, what he will always be; Chloe is alive and there is no good and no evil in a world where he still has Chloe Sullivan. “Please don’t be afraid of me Chloe.” He holds her chin between his thumb and index fingers, gulps down the sadness rising in his esophagus when she turns her head away.

“I’m not afraid.” Her palm glides over the back of his hand, gently eases it away. “Everything is difficult now Davis. I only leave the apartment when I have to, I can’t have anyone over for an extended period of time. I’m lying to Clark…I know this is the only way to protect him, to protect the world but it’s hard.”

“I can go, if you want me to.” He’ll destroy the planet if he leaves, if he goes back out into the city of reprobates and innocents and mendicants, the city that lives and breathes and dies as easily as a human. One night and he can make the streets run silent, cause cars to sit idly on the pavement, cold engines and metal, bodies lying on the streets in heaps, shards of glass and broken concrete on the sidewalk. “Just tell me to leave and I will.”

“I won’t.” She smells like soap, shampoo and sweetness, tastes like water and stale coffee when she leans forward and kisses him. Her lips are silky soft, parting against his, a slick slip of tongue into his mouth. “No.” She shrugs his hands from her shoulders, uncurls his fingers from the collar of her t-shirt, preventing him from pulling it over her head, revealing what he imagines is pale skin and perfect breasts.

“Do you want to do this?” His voice is a strained whisper as she mouths his Adam’s apple, slowly licks a line down his chest, runs her tongue along his pectoral and abdominal muscles.

“I don’t want to do that.” She murmurs into his stomach, words muffled in his abdomen. “But I want you.” And then she sinks down, takes him into warm wetness, takes in the little boy who couldn’t love and the man who can’t help but love. Chloe swallows him hard, swallows him deep, has his heart beating rapidly in his chest and sweat forming on his skin. Her fingers migrate to the base of his cock, stroke and squeeze while she hums around him, draws out ecstasy and relaxation.

“We could make this easier.” He tells her later, as they lie side by side on his cot, his head on her chest, her fingers running through his hair. “We could go somewhere, you and I, away from Clark, away from the temptation.”

“I’m willing to give it a try.”

He tightens his arm around Chloe’s waist, holds onto the only certainty in his life.

this tornado loves you

Reccing Notes: So remember that time after Eternal where we were all going 'Chloe locked the door, omygod she locked the door?' Well, I was in horrible withdrawal so I wheedled my flist and the lovely simplytoopretty wrote this. She's (usually) a Chloe/Clark writer, and one of the best. Her Chlavis is among my favorites because she handles every facet of their relationship, including Chloe's insecurities and Clark's lingering effect on her.

Chloe's terrified of the implications the beast and Davis's apparent immortality will have for her best friend, but there's something between them, anyway. Just read between the lines, at all that remains unsaid as that line is crossed. It will break your heart. And you will come back for more.

by simplytoopretty at her livejournal
771 words, r, eternal

Instead she finds herself nodding her head, muttering, “Yes,” unable to resist what she feels. A part of her is horrified at what she’s doing, but the larger part is rejoicing in her decision. Chloe descends the stairs slowly, an almost creep. Her feet against the cement stairs are nearly soundless. Her left hand grips the wooden railing as she climbs down the stairs, darkness surrounding her. The light is bad and the shadows litter every corner.

At the bottom of the stairs she pauses. To call out or to wait for him to notice her arrival: her mind is unsettled. A part of her would like to return up the stairs and pretend she was never down here.

The choice is taken away from her.

“You’re back,” Davis says as he comes forward, out of the dark gloom. His clothing consists of dark gray sweatpants and a dark green shirt. In contrast, his skin is white, almost the color of chalk.

There are lights in the basement, but only one is functional. It’s the one directly above where she stands, at the base of the stairs. Pale yellow light that barely penetrates the dimness.

“You’re back,” he repeats, relief evident in his voice. Guilt sweeps over her: a part of her had desperately wanted to run away once she got down here. He needs her and a part of her just wants to run.

She shouldn’t be here, yet she is. There’s a pull between them, she can’t deny it, and it frightens her. There’s been nothing like this in her life before.

Davis moves, closing the distance between them. A slice of air between their bodies. She tilts her head slightly to see his eyes, those dark pools that entrance and terrify her at the same time. His hand falls upon her cheek, a gentle caress, nothing monstrous about it. His palm is warm and she wants to lean into his touch.

Yet she shouldn’t. He is, after all, a killer. A part of her screams that killing is his nature; she’s torn between sympathy and revulsion. The sympathy side is winning out, the side that sees his nature as a battle he has lost in the past but one he may be able to win in the future.

It seems to depend on her. This knowledge weighs on her, a burden she can’t simply shrug off.

“I missed you,” Davis says. His thumb is brushing her cheek.

“Davis…”

“I need you.”

Chloe closes her eyes. It’s heady to hear these words, this admission. His fingers are beneath her chin, lifting her head just a bit, and then his lips are landing on hers. A light, soft pressure: tentative exploration.

He pulls back, his hands threaded through her hair now. He looks at her eyes, assessing it seems, and then says, “I want all of you.”

Her throat is dry and she swallows quickly. “I…what do you mean?”

“I want to know all of you.”

The answer she should give is a firm no. Instead she finds herself nodding her head, muttering, “Yes,” unable to resist what she feels. A part of her is horrified at what she’s doing, but the larger part is rejoicing in her decision.

His lips are on hers again and she can barely think; there’s a pounding in her head and it dominates everything. Fingers fumble with clothing, removing as much as nothing. His sweatpants, her jeans, their shoes. The items of clothing abandoned on the cold basement floor for now.

There’s a couch, in the corner, in the darkness. Davis presses her against the wall, her cotton shirt and jacket a barrier between the cement and her fragile skin.

“Here?” he says.

The light from the lamp just reaches them where they are. Darkness permeated.

“Here,” Chloe says. Here is with her back against the hard wall. Here is where things are real and gritty and everything that she needs.

He pushes into, their bodies joining intimately. Her fingers clutch at his cotton-covered shoulders as he thrusts in and out of her willing body. Their eyes are locked, their gaze never breaking. His eyes are dark and she gets lost in them. She can’t think.

When he comes, he says, “I love you.”

She bites her lip, unable to return the words as her orgasm washes over her. Pleasure spreads and there was already the pounding in her head and yet she still bites her lip to keep quiet. Despite what she feels, that tug between them, she can’t hand over that last element.

His eyes register his disappointment as they disentangle their bodies.

On her lips are the words I’m sorry.

But Chloe doesn’t say those words.

cotton candy liberty

Reccing Notes: Something amazing happens when Davis's biggest tragedy of the moment is Chloe being able to really let loose and...um...not feeling like he's going to make it. Control the fangirl screaming, yeah?

by nonky at her livejournal
500 words, nc-17, futurefic

He didn't remember the last time he had been afraid to touch her.



Davis Bloome mused absently that he and Chloe had finally gotten used to one another. His arms clamped around her sweaty body as she jerked her hips cruelly into his cock. She let out an exhausted cry and he cupped one hand roughly in her hair as they lurched back hard into the mattress.

He didn't remember the last time he had been afraid to touch her. His grip could splinter wood, but seemed to recognize Chloe's flesh as something ruthlessly pure; crushing it would only release that purity like an offensive of beauty. She tugged at the back of his head, telling him she was not as close as he was – demanding he slow himself down or speed her body to another climax.

It was somehow flattering how she was constantly asking the impossible from him, but he could not slow down.

Davis actually had to wrench himself free, nearly sobbing with effort as her pussy dragged on him with every increment into the cold, lonely world outside. Chloe wanted to save him, and her body wanted to save him by extension. He braced for the pain, and eased himself with a kiss that pushed them together with sloppy suction. If he wasn't careful, he'd forget he just pulled out of her.

He breathed against her puckered nipple, misting it with hot exhales. God, she was so short sometimes standing beside him, but so tall when he was trying to get down her body. The thousands of miles of twitching, distracting skin blazed under his face and hands as he rolled like a jalopy with four flat tires, running on watered down gasoline. Chloe made a sound, a flesh-toned kind of murmur and he found himself grinding on her leg.

I'm not going to make it, he thought tragically. This time I won't.

She yanked on his head, actually lifting him away from her chest so he was snapped out of the sexual haze. Chloe pushed on his crown and slung her legs over his shoulders. She rolled up to him and Davis was nose and tongue deep in her juices. He feasted on her with a whole body set of motions that he was sure were absurd to watch – if either of them could have peeled their eyelids open at that moment. His hips were thrusting mid-air, balls irritated by all the motion and none of the homey feel of being notched between her legs.

Sticky sweetness burned down his lips and in to pool around his blisteringly thirsty tongue. He could sense her tension building, snapping, turning to ash. He could destroy her with so little of this new, alien strength, but neither of them were afraid.

The only way Chloe Sullivan would go to pieces by his actions was the cotton candy melt of golden curls warmed between her legs.

“Davis,” she called hoarsely, and his cock ached for her as if she were dead.

He gasped and moaned out the interminable journey back up Chloe's front to kiss her again.

the flip side of hellfire

Reccing Notes: Hopeless after his resurrection in Eternal, Davis makes the one sacrifice he has left. His own personal hell for Clark and the world. Chloe follows him to the Phantom Zone, and their chances of survival start trickling down. Written because I wanted to see Chloe pushed to an unreasonable extreme for having to give Davis up over and over. Also, there needs to be more phantom zone pronz.

by vagrantdream at her/my livejournal

2871 words, nc-17, eternal/beast

"I'm not going to spend my life missing you, you know."

Davis held her eyes over the crackling air of the fortress. It seemed to her that the black crystal was still, poised over the portal that would take him to hell.



When she'd been with Davis she had always been moving. When she met him she took slow, tentative steps to something that called to her; the guilt was rust in her mouth. Then she'd broken into a run , a blank slate and the comforting heat of him. he'd brought her back. When he'd told her he'd wait her feet were standing still but the bottom had fallen out of her world.

Then, the crisis point- the equivalent of nuclear devastation under his skin and headlines that screamed cornfield killer. She chased after him in betrayal and sparks of the last love she had left. They'd run away together if that was what it came down to.

Chloe had never said the right words, not that she'd missed him, what she felt. Davis had tried return the equilibrium to her world, change it to the way is was before he'd turned it. He'd bring Jimmy back to her on drug recovery but Chloe had seen the ugliness underneath. As his last magic trick-he was going to disappear.

"Don't." She said.

"This way the world can have Clark." You can have Clark, his eyes said; he'd known that Clark had taken front and center if not for who he was but what he did. So Davis was leaving to a vapid wasteland, the only place she could never get him back.

"I'll have nothing." It struck Chloe that she'd always wanted her own Kryptonian hero and he was doing it the only way he could. He didn't even know.

"I'm sorry. I won't take another life"

"I'm giving you mine."

"What if I don't want it?" The lie was the set of his shoulders, the way the man who looked the world head on could not look at her face.

"It's yours. I feel something."

Chloe knew that an honest admission of what he felt would be too much for him. He moved and before she knew it she was swung into his grasp. She held his eyes-bewildered heat and hope as his thumb traced her cheek. He closed his eyes first as the red maw swirled around them . She closed a fist over his. Davis kissed her and it was too passionate, deep and full of a thousand promises that would never be fulfilled.

"I want you." She said, but her wanting had never changed the world.

Davis took a step back and his mouth formed a true smile again, that kind she could never stay away from. "Good to know I hadn't completely lost it."

"I'm not going to spend my life missing you, you know." Chloe told him; she was going to live.

She reached out a hand and brushed his sleeve; his eyes flickered. When they fell into the other world together, she thought maybe she could find her equilibrium.



Chloe struck the sand of the phantom zone with paralyzing impact in her side. Davis had shielded her from the brunt of the impact, but even then her body ached like she had landed on hot steel. Davis's face pressed against her shoulder and she felt the muscles work against her skin.

"You stayed with me." he whispered. There was fear, the soft rush of breath like you heard in a romance movie. He was heavy on her and she shivered. “Don’t move.” He whispered into her neck. She fantasized about this very situation, but his tone was all wrong, wary. Chloe touched at his face, feeling the tension coiled up in him. He was hearing something she could not.

Clinging to Davis, she heard nothing more threatening than shifting sands before it struck. Chloe had considered the Phantom Zone a place for wraiths, hostile ghosts, not living, hungry predators for too long.

Something slimy and razor-sharp wound over her ankle and yanked. It whip-lashed her and by extension Davis into the air. Chloe landed in a rolling heap, freezing when she wasn’t holding onto him anymore. She was the aperitif. Chloe dangled upside down in the air before the gaping hole of a mouth, rows and rows of needle-like teeth and vaguely she heard Davis yelling for her. It had her too tight. She gasped in a breath and smelled the ripe, rotting fragrance of decaying blood. She struck out blindly, blood painfully rushing to her brain. The eyes.

Chloe was plucked from the air like a doll, skin rasping. She had half a mind to kick out but she recognized the raspiness. Davis was half-transformed, his skin warring on warped black and his eyes red. He deposited her on the ground softly. A whip of sound took him from her sight, but she heard it roar out of him. There were wet, slicing noises- the impact of thick bony plates on muscled, fleshy tentacles. The tide turned as Doomsday was crushed into that maw of a mouth, let out a howl. Chloe had never been so afraid. She forced herself to limp up because she could be a distraction.

She heard the gurgle as Doomsday tore its claws through its belly at the last moment. The tentacled creature fell with a nauseating impact, and the red eyes that held hers over the carcass looked-almost- protective.





Doomsday must have taken her miles, to a decently sized cave free of tentacled monsters. It stopped short of the opening, as if knowing it’s sized would crumble the cave and kill her if it tried to find comfort for itself. The red sun beat down on it, lighting black scales to dirty orange parts of its side crusty black. Was it…bleeding?

Chloe crawled forward, dragging her leg behind her and laid a hand on it’s side. Her fingers came away sticky and it made a little hissing sound, scrabbling back a few steps. She used to touch Davis like this and it had helped him turn back.

“Thank you. Hold still. I’m going to help you.” It wasn’t sentient in the same way Davis was, but it understood survival, could hear the soothing tone to her voice and stopped scrabbling away. Chloe had to get half out of the cave to reach the looming form. It collapsed into the sand with a thump.




Davis must have woken up about an hour later. The horrific silence of this place and his jerkily breathing body made it seem like years. Davis was sentient though; the very first thing he did was pull out of her clinging grip to assess the situation and reset her ankle. His eyes were terrified and betrayed and loving; Chloe almost wished another tentacled monster appeared just to banish the awkwardness.

“You’re hurt.”

“So are you.” She indicated the black blood mixing with his own, starker on his bare skin and the muscle there. Down girl.

Davis knew how to deal with his own injuries, but she prodded at the uninjured skin. There were three claw-marked gauges tainted with oozing black venom right under his pectoral. The blood was more jarring on Davis and Chloe could see how it cut through to the muscle.

“I’ll be fine.” Davis insisted, moving closer to the light at the cave mouth, dazed from the venom. Chloe wrapped an arm around him and pulled him back. His body was complacent and his eyes didn’t look in the shape to argue with her.

“The sun is red here so Kryptonians won’t heal. You'd be better off here.”

“Straight from the mouth of the professor of Kryptonian history, M.D.” Davis’s was sweating thickly; it was probably some sort of paralyzing drug but he was lifting an eyebrow, making an effort to smile and set her at ease.

Unwillingly, Chloe felt the corner of her mouth curl up into a smile. “That’s P.H.D, actually. You need to let me suck the venom out.”

His eyes widened for a fraction of a second only. He wasn’t Clark. He knew they couldn’t mop ineffectually at it and expect the poison to go away. “Come on, Davis.”

“Be careful.”

Davis held still when she pressed her lips to his chest and sucked. It didn’t feel awkward or unnatural at all. His skin was much hotter than hers, a raspy smattering of hair and skin sensitive enough to goose-bump as soon as her mouth touched him. Vaguely, Chloe wondered what his skin tasted like. She couldn’t find out like this.

She had to be extra careful not to swallow a drop because the poison would kill her in seconds. His head tilted back when she started drawing on his blood. His breaths shifted to quick and she should have been thinking about how much pain instead of how beautiful his eyes looked when they slammed shut. His hand found purchase on her waist and pulled at her top, fingers shaking.

Chloe froze as his fingers touched her skin and tried not to move much when she spat out the poison into the sand. Her mouth was numb. He was hurt, shaking against her, barely moving otherwise. She had him for the rest of her life but she didn’t know if that amounted to much more than a day for either of them.




Davis had barely said a word since he woke, but he was starting to recover his speech. She’d been curled up next to him for nearly three hours before he finally whispered.

“Why did you do it?”

She clenched her fist and loosened it. It was hard to be mad at him. Davis had been trying to save her all along, saved her from getting turned into a yet another afterthought and she didn’t even know if he was going to heal.

“Because I’m selfish and stupid enough to be in love with you. I can’t watch you go into hell alone, and I don’t want that guy I care about to disappear because no one, not even him will make an effort to make things right.”

Davis looked at her, one of his tender, searching looks. By the end of it she wanted to shift her eyes down. “I want to spend my life with you. And if it’s just you, that’s fine too.”

His lips parted. “I don’t think it’s that long.”

Chloe straightened. “You’re not making it any longer by fantasizing about sending me back so you can get back to what you really want and invite more of those things to lunch on you. I get it.”

“I just didn’t want you to give your life up for me, Chloe. It’s not worth it.”

There was his problem. The blackouts and the blood and death had messed him up into seeing himself as nothing more than a shell unworthy of feelings from anyone. If it had been her he would have been the first one to speak on her behalf.

“Stop talking.”

“You’re the only one to ever love me.” His eyes were wet, like when he’d said it to her the first time. “I didn’t want you to suffer for it.” Davis crawled back from her a little further.

“I chose it, so deal.” If she reached an arm out she could get him to hold her again. She wouldn’t. She wasn’t sorry. She was just feeling cold. Desert nights were even colder here than in real deserts.

“I didn’t mean it that way. I do want you here.” he said very softly. “You’re the only one.” He kept looking at her and got closer, probably to get his jacket. Chloe ignored him and sat up to wipe the poison taste from her mouth again, only to close her eyes at he licked softly at her chaffed ankle. She hadn’t expected him to return the favor. He kissed her knee and up her thigh. She held her hands stiff because they were coated in red and she was angry and she wanted nothing more than to slide them into his hair.

When he kissed her mouth the response was automatic, wanting and squirming and not having to manipulate him into not dying. His mouth was parching and hot and flush on hers, (somehow even warmer than the rest of him) and his hands were on her face like he was holding her so she wouldn’t get away. If he wanted to play it like that- Chloe scratched at his neck and he shifted her down. No doubt about his intentions now.

There was sex that was about lust, sex that was about anger, sex that was about yearning and soft feelings and this was neither and all of them. He bit at her mouth to be let in, warm humid, living heat and Chloe sucked on his tongue. His mouth fumbled under her jaw line before his mouth teased wetly between her breasts and trailed down her abdomen. White-hot heat started to spike through her. Davis dragged himself up her like some sort of animal and she knew he smelled it.

Chloe raised herself to her knees and tore at her jacket, missing the warmth but counting on him to be the heat. If she didn’t deal with the clothes he would and this was the only pair she would have for a long time. She let them drop. Her forehead slouched into his shoulder and he pressed between her legs with sudden electric pressure, hesitated and watched her eyes and seeing some invisible thing, pushed his cock inside. Chloe’s eyes watered, he was in her rough and so deep it ached.

She’d wondered sometimes, how it would be, if it would hurt. She couldn’t connect it with the vague stirrings with Jimmy that vanished as soon as he rolled over. Davis seemed like too much passion, too much for her too handle. Maybe she’d been right. Davis pulled her forward, palms huge against her face and he was just hard inside her, not doing anything at all. Chloe felt like some part of her displaced and left only room for him. She started it, aligning them to kiss him better, shifting her hips against his.

His hands closed over them and he kissed her roughly, pausing to push her into a cold, rasping wall. Chloe wanted to let him know it was uncomfortable but he’d dropped his head into her shoulder, pulsing and hot and doing something at last. Chloe’s eyes fixed on the ominous cave mouth and closed and she could have sworn she saw sparks.

Davis's skin thrummed over hers, her hands tried unsuccessfully to sooth the blood dripping from the reopened cut in his side and clawed at his ass instead. Davis hissed a slow breath from between his teeth and rolled her against the wall- clutching at her shoulders, elbows, her hips like he couldn’t get close enough.

In any other place, it could have been rationalized as an effort to save one or both of them. It was out of their hands now. His hands wrapped and fisted in her hair, his mouth at buried itself against her throat, almost as if he was trying to forget about everything that surrounded them. Davis hated not being able to save her from what he saw as his punishment; he took his and his evil alien parent’s responsibilities upon himself, that’s just how he was. Chloe understood. He rocked a little more violently and what she needed to say parched and cracked in her throat with a small orgasmic sound. She was drenched in heat and the blood roared in her ears.

The pleasure was like plummeting; complete freefall, waiting for another impact. It was coming, quivering through her overtaxed nerve endings again and Davis notched his head into her shoulder. She bit into her lip and drew blood and she couldn’t taste the venom anymore so she licked at his neck and his skin tasted like salt. Black closed over the sides of her vision, but she felt him tossing and quivering and his hands stroking over her knee when he spilled into her. Then her knees went.

Her arguments about his culpability issues were temporarily halted by her inability to string two sentences together. Davis carried her to the corner and she curled around his arm, steering clear of the injured parts. She was warmed by the erratic sound of his heart and him but she was sticky and cold. She groped for her jacket and curled the arm of it around him.

“I don’t deserve you.” He said softly, tracing at her nose with a blunt finger. “Because of you I have a reason to go on.” He rolled over and looked at her with earnest eyes. “I’ll take care of you.” Chloe nudged his shoulder and his hands seemed to develop a will of their own. “I’ll get to know the terrain. You can explain the phantoms, we can catalog the species and learn which to avoid, I’ll learn to control the beast…”

Chloe breathed in the scent of his skin and felt her ankle prickle under his roving, curious weight. She could see it already-he’d catch her things to eat with his hands and come home naked and they’d probably die of acute sexual exhaustion.

Davis pulled her hands over her head and kissed her wrists. They had a lot a time to make up for, and she’d almost forgotten what they had been arguing about. But she took advantage of the last moment to make her point.

“I’m still not sorry I came.”

full as a tick, shredding ivory

Reccing Notes: Simply the most in-character and thud-worthy conclusion to all the connection and buildup in early season 8. If Bride hadn't been turned into a horror movie- it could have simply been this- two people no longer trying push themselves into the lives they're 'destined' to have. Skipping out of a wedding and significant garment tearing has never been so hot. Things are said that are every shipper's dream.

by nonky at her livejournal

1800 words, nc-17, bride

She had seen Davis like he was a full-colour figure in a black and white photograph.
He wanted her. Chloe knew he wanted her, but Davis was grappling with who he was. He didn’t feel like the guy who broke up a wedding and drove off with the bride edging closer to his lap. He didn’t feel like someone who set out to rip up the cosy and sweet home life that made him envious. He was a healer because he knew what it was like to know there was no one on the way to help. He did good things out of a realistic belief that there were enough bad things already happening.

If he was going to mix in the sea of humanity and put himself in reach of the everyday ugliness of people, Davis was going to make a difference. The best he could say about showing up at Chloe’s wedding was that he’d probably put a damper on some drinking at the reception.

He had gotten as far as pulling her hair out of the sculpted curls. He pinned her to the inside of his apartment door – like they were on the run from a wedding mob that would take her back and make her kiss Jimmy by clinking glasses. He had good timing for a first-time wedding crasher. He got there after her walk down the aisle but before the invitation to ‘speak any reservations’ why the marriage couldn’t happen.

Chloe had been tied up in hellish swings of selfishness and honour, before she recognized it was all garbage. She chose Jimmy, and agreed to marry him. Changing her mind wasn’t something she’d set out to do, but it was an organic, natural progression. She couldn’t keep herself exactly as she was forever. She’d met Davis, changed her mind, and that was it. Jimmy would have sore feelings, and they would both be stuck paying their half of the wedding, anyway. She had made a point to have insurance to cover all but this eventuality – changing her mind wasn’t covered.

There was a pause as the minister leafed through his prayer book, and Chloe’s gaze had drifted away from Jimmy and down the rows of seats. She had seen Davis like he was a full-colour figure in a black and white photograph. He was pale, but he was brighter than the sunshine lighting up her big day. He had smiled, incredibly gentle and hopeful, and she felt her feet drifting from Jimmy. Her fiancé actually reached out to help her, thinking her shoes were giving her trouble. When she drew her hand back, Jimmy got the message. He wasn’t fast enough to talk her out of it.

She didn’t run, but she didn’t stop for the people who climbed uncertainly to their feet. She didn’t answer the yelled questions, or look back to the man deflating under the minister’s encouraging grip. Clark and Lois were stunned, her cousin grinning in that slightly insensitive way that showed Lois’ delight in chaos. Davis stayed stiffly sitting down, his shoulders jerking with tension until she stopped at the end of his row. He shoved along without apologies, knowing how hard those steps back down the aisle must have been. He was determined Chloe wouldn’t be going through anything else alone.

They grabbed at each other, and fled, agreeing without any discussion to go to his place. Chloe didn’t know what would become of her things at the apartment. She was ready to let them go. Any sense of loss was held off by a growing excitement low in her belly. Davis had given her his jacket, but the shivers were shocks of emotion. She had upended every bit of her history. Guilt was a part of it, but the largest part was startled joy. She had thought about her thousands of dollars of debts, her elaborate dress and hairstyle, her expectant groom and guests; then leapt in the opposite direction. She had fooled all of them right up to the last second. She had surprised herself most of all.

“I want you to take me,” she told him, swaying in his arms. Davis winced as her thigh rubbed hard along his erection. Chloe could nearly hear his patience grind. She pushed his jacket off her arms. “You’ve been so good and patient, Davis. I love that you’d wait for me. I – love – everything I know about you, and I’m sure I’ll love the things I don’t know yet.”

His brown eyes were hypnotic, sweet and melting with a spark of slow burning heat. He would send her flowers and do this right, but Chloe didn’t need the trappings. She felt the rightness, warm and wet between her legs and pounding in her heart. She dug her fingers into the fine silk of her dress, wrenching at it uselessly. They needed to be naked on each other.

“You’ve just made a really big decision,” he said softly. His hand kneaded in her hair as if he believed she must have a headache to soothe. “You know I love you –“

“Yes, I do know. We’ve done the talking and it got us here, but I’m flying in my head,” Chloe told him. “I’m feverish and crazy and the only thing to do is rip me out of this dress and get on top of me. Please.”

Davis blinked hard, his mouth parted while they breathed closely. His hands drew out from her hair and brushed down her arms. He took her hands and held them, but his body pushed nearer in a telling move. He was pouring out heat. Want was never the question.

“You might regret me, once you hear it all,” he told her seriously, slowly massaging her fingers in his own. There was an engagement ring on one that needed to be sent back to Jimmy, but he wasn’t going to collapse in guilt over it. The timing was wrong for their meeting, but finding Chloe had been right.

“Don’t wuss out on me, Davis,” she teased. “I can guarantee you will regret me on a regular basis. You will look to the sky and pray to whatever will listen to stop me from being who I am in the particular way that’s bugging you. If it didn’t bother you sometimes, we’ll have mistaken our feelings. If we can’t be brave today – on my busted up wedding day – we need to rethink.”

He couldn’t think, wouldn’t allow anything to be wrong about having Chloe in his apartment and halfway to his bed. Inside his fantasies, this had gone on a million ways and not one of them had involved sitting her down for a serious talk about a new five-year plan. He wanted to be a good guy, not a saint.

“That dress had to be expensive,” Davis said. “I don’t even know how to get you out of there.”

He prided himself on not leering as her breasts rose in the low neckline, swelling against the ornate fabric. The soft press of curves to his chest was going to the top of his list of favourite memories, though. Chloe stepped up, tilted on heels that must be killing her.

“Rip it up,” she said, lips held in a wavering smile. “It’s a part of a bigger lie, tying me up. I don’t want to be trapped anymore. I want you to tear it away and fuck me in the shreds of the stupid thing I nearly did with myself.”

His hands ran up her shoulders, around the back. Davis pinched the two sides of the dress and yanked. The zipper gave with a metallic scream; the rest of the fussy structure was falling on itself. Beads and crystals were dropping in a glittery mess to his rug, and he paused at the lingerie lovingly cupping Chloe’s luscious breasts. She poked his side and pushed the fabric down, sighing as it caught on the end of the ruined zipper. Davis gave up on the top and worked his way through the layers of skirt, tearing slits up as far as he could. The decorated middle of the dress was resisting, and he jostled her body as he fisted both hands in the sharp sequins.

Chloe laughed, deep and throaty as more of her body was bared. He kept ripping through the pretty purple silk underneath. Giving up on complete nudity, he yanked the fabric off her pussy and spread her with his fingers. Davis was down on his knees, pulling her thighs forward to him as he tasted warm moisture. He stood up so fast she wobbled, but he was catching her under her ass. He seemed to have more than two hands – too fast to be human hands, at least. She was aloft, long scraps of white rustling, then she was down.

Davis got them to the bed, just barely. He even talked himself out of the single massive thrust that his cock was aching to do. He eased in, sensing acceptance and a little bit of discomfort. He had known Jimmy couldn’t be as big. Psychology alone would have prevented it.

Somehow her nervous breathing told him as much as moans and screams. Chloe told him when his light, steady, polite thrusts were too soft. She grabbed the back of his neck to keep his weight down hard on her body. She pushed bits of skirt out of his way and tore the top of her teddy down until he could lap and nip at her breasts.

“Yes, Davis, good-hard, fuck,” she mumbled, lips blurring in words so low he couldn’t pick out their meaning. “Knew it-“

He wanted to understand what she was telling him – it had to be important to gasp it out with his pushes emptying her lungs forcibly. Chloe’s fingers were pinching and goading, her inner muscles riding him in a pattern he couldn’t map with his sanity. There was the break, coming for both of them. When they both lost all semblance of rational thought, he would comprehend all of it.

She cried out his name as her pussy milked him of any uncertainty, and Chloe proved stronger than he’d imagined. As he jerked and hissed, she steadied him. She watched his face and could tell just from that what he needed to keep himself from collapsing.

“Knew what,” Davis asked a little later. He still had to peel her out of the ruined wedding dress, and had a feeling his work with accident victims would come in handy. In a pinch, he was quick and careful with a pair of shears.

“Knew you,” she mumbled happily. “I looked at you and I knew who you were before you said your name. Something changed inside me, and it was permanent.”

His hand moved from cupping her breast to tracing softly over her heart. “That makes the two of us,” he whispered.

your placid fears

Reccing Notes: Chloe doesn't know what she wants, but he understands anyway.

I really don't have words for how this girl writes angst.

The connection between Chloe and Davis melded with the destiny that hangs over Davis; this is what epic is made of. This is a variation of beast I would have given my two front teeth to see (!!). Chloe and Davis at their most electric, all in the microcosm of one tortured kiss.

by lust-4sorrow at her livejournal
528 words, pg-13, beast

“I’m not a good man,” he murmurs at her. The words hurt her more than loud screeching.
He’s kissing her.

His lips are subtle against hers but all she feels is his lips and the words he sprouts from them. The words that seem to rip the secrets inside her to shreds. She feels his usual hesitance, the yearning for the pretence of proper man that lies there.

Chloe presses her forehead to his, the force meant to give Davis a message she isn’t fully sure she’s even thinking. He seems to understand it anyway, gasping out a breath and tightening a hand around her hip for a fraction of second before his usual mental battle pulls him away.

She shifts her position, trails her nose down his soft cheek as if to soothe it. Grasping the bottom of his dark –always dark- shirt, she pulls them closer together. She’ll later tell him that the closeness well unfamiliar for the simply sake of humility.

Yet he’ll see it –he’s always looking for something in those gazes- , spot the lie from a mile, or perhaps only a few steps away and grasp onto it’s implication. His chest is almost flush to hers but it’s not enough, never enough. Closing her lips, searing them into a thin, tense line Chloe keeps the desperate sound rising from her gut at bay. Davis’ eyebrow is furrowed, a line of unfortunate emotions marring his forehead.

“Davis-

“I’m not a good man,” he murmurs at her. The words hurt her more than loud screeching.

With a sigh, Chloe lets her breathing placate the concern and push it back directly underneath the surface. She supposes that will always be a problem. Closing her hand into a fist, she finds strength in the cotton –so much simplicity atop such complexity- covering him. With a pattern of tug, sigh, tug, sigh, gaze, tug, sigh, tug; he’s leaning in again, surrendering.

His lips are harsher this time, the press of them sure to leave her own lips swollen. Her insides throb with the promise of this. She cups his cheeks, occasionally touching his closed eyelids with her fingertips, marveling at the heat radiating from them. She stops the kiss for a moment –only once, never again- as if to put an end to the heat of his gaze that glares no longer.

Quickly enough she’s kissing him again, feeling the fire of his dark eyes turn into deeps imprints of his hands around her hips and anywhere else she needs them except for around the fragments of her almost electronic heart.

He’s lifting her up effortlessly and she wants to squeal but finds that the air around them is far too heady for her to comply. His knees seem to buckle under the weight of his want, need and he murmurs in a tone so pained it’s almost a whimper.

“I may- I- I’ll hurt you Chloe,” she shakes her head in denial of this. They’re both aware of her stubbornness.

She kisses him until his kryptonian induced fears are far away. To perhaps terminate her own she asks him tenderly not to break her heart. When he begins breaking the world instead, she laughs at the irony.