Sunday, April 18, 2010

basic need

Reccing Notes: Remember I said I was obsessed with the Soul's Prisoners? I did a sequel, which is waayyy not as good as nonkys first, but it has porn. So there.

by vagrantdream at defying mythos
868 words, r/nc-17, alternate universe

Davis shifted his weight, from one elbow to the other on the bed, his weight light as he fell on her. She’d seen a soldier’s AK-47 disassemble into mental pieces; disintegrate on contact with his arm.


“I’ll hurt you.”

“I don’t care.”


Chloe knew what she’d been unleashing when she unlocked his cuffs. There was something inside Davis, something created out of a primal and deadly fear. Human weapons were on their trail; one deposed, protective General with a shot-gun loaded with Kryptonite bullets was not far behind. They’d seen what Davis’s flesh could do, as humanely as they treated him. Freedom for them both was a compromise now, just don’t get caught. He was defined by his danger, by his apartness from all that was human.

Chloe saw a Davis with the lighting up looks and hands that had never closed too tightly even as she confided the most frightening things she’d found in arcane Kawachee legends. It was what she did; her occupation, to help those who were different. It seemed impossible at first, until she saw with her own eyes. He fascinated her. He didn’t search for a place to put the blame for his condition. He watched her with cautious, seeing eyes. He had a power, and given the choice he would use it for good. She fell into a soft, stomach-fluttering pit with him; grasping- ungainly at finding reasons. I know who you really are; I can’t care what. And now here, away, in a nameless stopping place together, they were free to feel.

There was the prickling warmth, there, somewhere shockingly low as he rubbed her cheekbone with his thumb. It was a basic thing, touch. Chloe turned her head into it, lips parting in an effort to suck in a breath. His intercepted, alien and shockingly dry. The pressure of his lips diving into hers was good and warm and grounding; her mouth went wet with tender breaths. The air between them was coiled as tight as a spring.

Chloe pulled on his loose grey shirt, un-tucked it from his pants and touched under them though she didn’t know how. He held very still, eyes misty and body hard. She barely felt her nightgown, the dipping intrusion of cloth replaced by large hands under her thighs, lifting her by instinct, lining their bodies to each other.

His hands settled her palms around his shoulders very lightly. There was steel under that, somewhere. His cock rubbed against simple cotton, swollen and smooth and she wondered at how that could fit while he kissed her like he was trying to get in. He didn’t grind, but she did, and maybe she did alright. Chloe couldn’t compare male reaction times like Lois, but the heat of him helplessly thrusting between the ring she formed with her fingers felt perfectly natural.

Thrums escaped in sighing sounds through paper-thin walls. Her hand dropped to feel him inside her; palm bracing in a gasp of surprise. Davis didn’t move, but his face trickled moisture against her neck. It was hotter than she expected, slipping and pulsing with life. There was supposed to be more. Chloe arched her back, hoping for anything but this needing. He soothed hands down the back of her nightdress, lifted her legs and rubbed until she choked back the sound.

Davis lifted her and pressed her back down on the nondescript, cold sheets of their hotel bed. He knew the walls wouldn’t hold up to any of his thrusts. The smile he was holding toyed across his face as he held her and made slick, pecking overtures to her mouth. Shifting restlessly, he hit something. Chloe yanked at the edges of his unbuttoned shirt to pull him down on her, swiveling forward with all the amateur grace of a kitten freewheeling in the air. They fell sideways with in thump of restless, needy appendages.

Davis shifted his weight, from one elbow to the other on the bed, his weight light as he fell on her. She’d seen a soldier’s AK-47 disassemble into mental pieces; disintegrate on contact with his arm. He didn’t leave the slightest painful indentation on her skin. It’s okay. It’s okay. She could have almost bet that that something inside Davis didn’t tell him to fuck her soft, sweet and slow. But he did, a hint of something harder-edged in unyielding palms smoothing over her hipbones, keeping her open to him as the throb worsened.

Chloe fell into a curious vertigo, nerves alighting with separate sensations of hard, light and deep like drums were pounding in her ears. Her body tossed and flinched away, into his roughly exhaling mouth in a tight spasm of heat. His bones were made of something stronger than steel and he was softening inside her.

Her hands felt too heavy to reach out, to feel, to wonder what stuff he was made of. It didn’t hurt this time; maybe one day it would. She knew what it was like to have that choice; she’d had a chance to admit he meant more than that. Maybe this was what it was like to grow up.

“Chloe- " His mouth opened in a rumbling noise. “Hey.” Davis encircled her fingers with his fascinated ones; crushingly strong bones over powdery human metacarpals. She’d seen something gentle in him before they’d even touched.

Chloe squeezed her fingers over his, giddy at his eyes and his weight on her and the thousands of miles they were free to roam. Call it a premonition. She wouldn’t break.


oppression

Reccing Notes: Wowowow. This is one of those fics that I read and gets better every time. I think, sometimes with a ship like this, it can be easy to get lost in the initial chemistry and the feelings. This however, takes into context Davis's intended fate as set by his father and Chloe's fears and desire to protect and how that factors into the sexual relationship between them. It's beautiful and packs quite a few emotional punches in the gut.

by nonky at her livejournal
1275 words, nc-17, eternal


He thought it was the choice of movie.

Davis was happily cuddled on her sofa, his jeans rumpled under her flexing toes. Chloe was wearing a dress that was short and stretchy. It didn’t look like a work outfit, but it wasn’t so fancy it made him feel weird in his jeans and t-shirt. Instead of hiking up when she bent into crazy positions next to him, it made room for her legs to do what they were doing. Her foot danced lightly over his knee, naked skin rubbing him with subtle enticement.

It was about war; a father who was a general and a son who was a reluctant soldier being groomed for advancement.

Chloe had a good father. He was a kind man with her best interests at heart. He was also a good deal more invested in survival than she was, so he lived out of state and at a safe distance. She didn’t resent him. She resented Clark’s fathers; Jonathan Kent and Jor-El, both of them so certain Clark’s welfare was worth lives and sanity. She resented Zod, who had turned a tiny bit of his son into a creature that didn’t know what it was.

“I want you to be a man,” The general on the television yelled. “I want you to kill who you have to kill!”

If there was some kind of warrior tradition involved, or a legitimate war to be fought, she might be able to see Zod’s side of things, or Jor-El’s. But there was no glory in creating a killing machine to live in a world that didn’t value super-soldiers. There was no key to the city awaiting aliens who finally got around to showing up to conquer Earth for the poor, dumb Earthlings’ own good.

“I don’t want to be a man like you,” the son screamed, yanking off the uniform jacket that he obviously disliked. “I don’t want to be a man if that’s what it takes!”

Chloe didn’t have daddy issues, but every man in her life had them. She had been in the middle of Clark’s and Lex’s; and now Davis’ were a part of her daily life. Zod was a father who had sent him alone to a hostile world, expecting Davis would find a way to scuttle around in the shadows until he was old enough to have powers. He was a father who instilled nothing but psychosis and killing rage, yet expected to be greeted with love and obedience.

On the movie, the young man was freeing prisoners. One of them asked him to escape with them, but he was going to stay behind and take his punishment. It was going to get him killed, and he was going to savour the humiliation of his father as he was blindfolded and shot.

Davis was going to pay for Zod’s sins, over and over again. He was going to feel every life he’d taken, knowing it was only partially a choice and not a real one at that. Davis killed in small numbers so the rising urges didn’t trigger a permanent transformation. He found a solution that was the best of a terrible situation. He did as much good in his life as he could manage. He didn’t want to be part of anyone’s agenda. He wasn’t bitter and destructive. He was good in a way that couldn’t be programmed or overruled.

The general was taking the news badly. He ripped down his citations for bravery and sobbed out grief and rage.

She turned on her hip, swinging one leg over Davis’ lap and yanking the skirt high. He went along with her immediately. Davis slouched lower to kiss her, and let his head hang back so she could lean on his chest. Her hands fumbled for his belt and slipped his zipper open. She palmed him gently and kneaded at the engorging flesh. He tried to slow her down with his hands catching her elbows. Chloe wasn’t going to fall for that. She slowed down only when her dress was pulled up to her waist, and his cock was poised to let her ride him until they passed out.

The general was talking to his troops about honour. He said it was about dying for something worthwhile. He said it was a choice.

She was glad the soft cotton of the dress showed every panty line, because it made her go without underwear. Chloe screwed herself down on Davis with a laboured hum issuing from her throat. She arched and grasped until it worked for her. He was still, probably stunned at her propelling them from casual dating to bareback straddling in a single minute. His hands rubbed up and down her thighs, stroking the muscles that lifted her over him.

The young man must have been at the firing range, because the movie had the jarring silence every sound editor used before a gunshot.

Chloe was fucking her anxiety about Davis’ future, fucking her fear and her rage on his behalf. There was nothing in the world that was going to make up for his terrible life, and she didn’t want him to find that out. She wanted him to walk around with a hopeful outlook that was completely without justification. She wanted him to believe the world was full of good people who really deserved to live.

The movie was silent, driving her crazy with the anticipation.

Davis was driving her crazy, too. He was into it, well past any fear of hurting her or thrusting too hard. He was showing more restraint in his submissive pose than Chloe was in the power position. She ground on her inherited daddy issues, showed them the way to go to hell with each downward plunge of her body. Davis was trying to soften things by cupping her breasts. He flicked at her nipples and ran his knuckles down her belly. He dabbed at her clit with a licked fingertip.

The television let loose a volley of shots, lingering on indulgently as the son’s body was falling.

Chloe didn’t turn around, and she jammed her tongue in Davis’ mouth. She didn’t want him to see that, not on a movie or in life. She didn’t want that to be him, even figuratively. He couldn’t stay dead, but he was perfectly able to die in agony. She pressed hard with her hips, felt bony strikes as he lifted her in the motion. He was supposed to look like his father. It made her want to scratch his cheeks and leave bloody marks.

There was silence.

She screamed into it. Davis was jolting underneath her knees, nearly throwing her off. He held on to her like a hug, but it was more for safety. He was a force in the universe and she was latched on to him like a comet. He was meant for great things. He was meant for her, and she would make that enough.

The ending of the movie droned about melodramatic loss and sacrifice.

Chloe let herself relax into Davis’ arms and the warm dampness between her legs. She put her face against his neck and he shivered. He wasn’t some tactical advantage to her, but he was under her control. The great muckity-mucks of Krypton could suck her recently bouncing ass, because they weren’t getting the planet or any lost son from it without her interference.

Maudlin music signaled the movie was over.

“The next movie I get won’t be so scary,” Davis whispered gently, running fingertips over her cheeks. One hand smelled like her pussy, and she turned her mouth to nip it gently.


A/N: In case anyone asks, the movie is non-existent; or rather, it's a composite of a lot of movies that I stirred together to inspire some porning from a certain reporter and the paramedic she's stalking.

the soul's prisoners

Reccing Notes: Nonky writes canon fic with the best of them, but she also has an insane gift for creating alternate universes that you need more of desperately. Davis is a long held government experiment and Chloe is the curious reporter girl who gives her whole heart. Read this and tell me you wouldn't be obsessed enough to write sequel porn. Woops! is that just me? :P


by nonky at her livejournal,
170 words, pg, this needs no canon!


Once Davis realized the bullets zinging off his flesh could hit her, he fought the guards that had been peacefully walking him to his daily battery of tests.

“I'll hurt you,” Davis said, his voice hard and nervous.

She knelt on a concrete floor, her eyes on his, mind spinning far beyond the cell and Marines beyond. She didn't disagree with him. He would hurt her, and some moments it would feel like dying. She was old enough to know heartache didn't kill, and it would eventually provide some perverse company on her worst days. She gave her whole heart.

“I don't care,” she told him, ignoring the alarms that sounded as she used the stolen keycard on his shackles.

Her uncle couldn't call a cease fire, but it wasn't necessary. Once Davis realized the bullets zinging off his flesh could hit her, he fought the guards that had been peacefully walking him to his daily battery of tests.

She was risking the world and almost certainly destroying her uncle's career. She was marking her loved ones for suspicion. Davis ripped a chain link fence off its moorings, and she took his hand. She gave her whole heart