interior

Reccing Notes: Smut, smut with a heady dose of tragic foreboding. And flirting over food. And Davis secret inner romantic-with-Catholic-thoughts. Come on, it doesn't get much more awesome than this.

by nonky at her livejournal
2220 words, nc-17, post-beast (her verse)

No one could make her regret him.

The Chinese food arrived with only one paper plate, so they shared. Chloe pushed the two chairs together and sat sideways with her legs across his lap. Davis unabashedly stared at her face as they ate, sending her into numerous shy mumbles he didn't take as serious requests to stop.

She loved him. She would let him look because she knew how badly he needed good things in his life.

Davis ate with one hand and used the other in a constant, gentle slide over her bare knees. His fingers curved down the the outside of her legs before smoothing back the same way. If someone asked him what he'd do after he won the Superbowl, he'd tell them he planned a trip to that confined universe that existed between her bare thighs. Well, not tell them, he amended. I'd smile at her, and they'd know.

This is what being wanted feels like, he thought with wonder. An entire lifetime of feeling low sinks underneath feeling amazing.

He had been overcompensating all his life to have worth somehow, unaware how other people simply carried it around with them on their most selfish days. At first, Davis thought he must be feeling Chloe's obvious abundance of value warming him, then he realized it was with him even when she was not there. She had been resisting their attraction, wasn't trying to give him anything except lukewarm distance. She forgot everything, but he was still there and she needed him. She felt safe in his arms – more than that, he felt like she was safe with him.

Davis didn't think one moment of unconditional love gave him the charmed life of a person with a childhood. He'd had friendships before, but Chloe's heart beat more steadily in his presence. It was more foundation for a life than anything in his life before they met.

She wiped her mouth, hurriedly, then leaned in and kissed him roughly. He had half a mouthful of noodles and didn't care. They were well past date etiquette and rules about when kissing was appropriate. They were more situated in the die-for-love category except she wasn't allowed and he couldn't, so they had to keep making out. Of his hardships, that compulsion wasn't hurting him a lot.

He swallowed his food and there was suddenly more room to taste him. Chloe yanked on his plain t-shirt. He put on clothes after his showers. She was going to have to find some way to tell him not to bother without seeming completely trampy. The last thing she wanted was to polarize their roles to a complete madonna-whore complex.Worshipful silences and sweet, heavy stares like hot fudge sauce were a difficult adjustment. She would cope with them. Without them, maybe she wouldn't.

Chloe let her head fall back as fuzzy desire filled her head. She hunched forward, cramping a stomach loaded with decidedly seasoned dinner. Her neck tried to accommodate his shift for more depth, and flawless medical training kicked in.

“You, huh, can't be comfortable,” Davis said. His mouth was all the way back in his own chair. “Are you finished?”

“Finished?” She honestly had no idea what there was to finish except what they had just been doing.

“Dinner,” he asked, blinking as if it was barely a concept anymore.

Food in mouths prevented frantic kissing. What was hunger next to that? His lips were very red. She licked her own and felt salt lift away. That's right, food. Some people needed it to stay alive. She just didn't know why they were bothering.

“I'm not hungry anymore,” she told him. “That bed is looking pretty good right now.

He wanted to take his time, not fuck her again. She took it, even enjoyed it, but that wasn't the point. He didn't want her to think he was selfish. The last association he wanted Chloe to have of him was a sweaty, heedless animal on top of her. Davis desperately wanted not to be selfish, and he wasn't sure about his success.

They were at a decent place. It was clean and the towels were large enough to be called bath sheets. He wasn't modest, but sometimes he'd wished for a bathrobe so he didn't have to pat dry with tiny towels and put clothes back on. Slipping naked between cool sheets helped him sleep. He had offered to get a separate room at the first motel, but she read his expression and declined gently.

I wouldn't have lasted ten minutes in my own room, but I would have tried, Davis told himself. Even if I had to cling to the connecting door all night.

Chloe would have heard him and collected him from the floor, taking him into her own bed and soothing the cold loneliness. She told him about the Phantom Zone once, and it sounded like the place his mind went after he'd killed. It made sense that a cold, windy emptiness would horrify her. Chloe was warmth, shelter and everything real.

The tortured man he was had been healed by Chloe as much as her arrival in his life helped to spin his destruction closer. He would die for her, easily walk into it like a warm rain. Despite his best efforts at denying it, he would kill for her with no less restraint. Terrible things done to protect her seemed almost virtuous. Davis knew she worried about his emotional stability after his botched suicides, but could only regret having pained her with that much disclosure. She didn't need to worry. He protected her fiercely because she was the safe haven for his soul. She smiled at him, brightly and without fear. She had reignited his self preservation. If for one moment he could feel he deserved Chloe – so poignantly sweet and cynical – he could also believe in true redemption.

“Hello? Davis?”

She touched his mouth and he shook himself out of what had to have been an eerie stare. “Sorry, I am agreeing with you about the bed.”

Sparkling green eyes fixed on his lap. “Yes, I know, but you're not pouncing. You looked like you were going to pounce, and then you didn't.”

Davis smiled, his dimples dragging her in with special gravity. Chloe pounced, the food dumping to the floor. He did the walking.

It should have been a mistake to crush to each other with such full stomachs. Any uneasy digestion was forgotten. Davis let her rip his shirt over his head and climbed up her nightgown. He chased her around the bed when her hips squirmed away, and held her down lightly as she huffed and moaned.

Chloe tasted like sunshine and honey, somehow. He drank her in. One slinky leg under him, the other over him, she held him. Her neck craned to see him stretching out her clothes. She wiped at eyes that wouldn't stop tearing up.

“Nownownow,” she moaned, pulled at his hair until he crawled toward her face. He was caught underneath cloth, and pushed it up over her head. Chloe flailed stupidly, and they rolled until it was all gone. He was on the bottom, so she straddled and took him. They had months of quietly, silently asking for each other; nothing needed speech.

He was so hot, dripping sweat into the pillow. Davis could feel condensation on the headboard behind his neck. He had fragments of thoughts, almost theories of sensations he wanted next. His arms flexed hard, dragging her to his chest, wider than ever. Chloe whimpered as her hands fumbled at him, moving past. She lifted up and Davis was struck with fear that if he slipped all the way from her pussy they would both die on the spot.

“Chloe,” he gasped, sounding panicked. She nodded like he'd actually told her the problem, the fear. Her face turned down the gap between them. She shifted on her knees, slowly unbending one leg until it could slip behind his back. He tried to steady her hips without moving her. They shivered together as his cock dragged a little further into the air. Moisture rolled down, feeling thick like blood. Sexual stigmata, he thought randomly.

Her muscles were like tissue paper. Chloe held on to the bed as she uncurled her leg, but the pillow was getting in the way and Davis was on top of the pillow. She lost more of him and moaned softly. He was beautiful to look at poised outside her, but once he was inside she got greedy. He lifted her ass up, taking her weight on his arms. She could finally wrap both legs around him and press down. Her forehead leaned on his chin as they slid back into oneness.

He hugged her roughly, letting the terror fade. She nearly had him in a headlock. Chloe's legs squeezed him and he knew what he was feeling wasn't the bad kind of fire. She was saving him, one burning cell of his body at a time. It seemed simple in the moment – salvation in tiny blond. Love so deep it rooted anything that did not answer love. Animals might do this bodily, but they didn't feel it. Beasts couldn't feel the universe blink complacence away and become fond of a single pair of humans.

“We're okay,” she whispered, letting him get some air. “I don't know what this is, but if it stopped I'd die.”

“Transubstantiation,” he murmured, kissing one corner of her mouth. Soft, softer than her cheek brushing on his stubble. Everywhere he looked he found softer places of Chloe. “Wine into blood, me into you, you into me, and back and forth forever.”

Sometimes, when he said things they rang in her ears like she'd been thinking them herself. She wasn't religious but it made sense. How else did babies get souls if they weren't given little bits of their parents' to start growing? They weren't making a baby. She was on the pill, and it was years too soon if the time was ever right. But Davis into Chloe and Chloe into Davis sounded perfect. It sounded like everything she'd known wasn't there with Jimmy or even Clark.

He kissed her mouth in delectable sections. Top lip down to lower curve, dexterous flicking tongue caught out and nibbled, words fucked out of her in many careful thrusts.

His patience was waning, fear gone but replaced with the urge to move. He'd been wrong about transubstantiation, maybe. This was more like occupation, as if Chloe herself was letting him into the home she'd promised to provide, showing him around. He was following her around this new, lovely place, thinking it was better than any place he'd ever known existed. She had moments of apologetic pause; a girl despite her toughness, explaining pale walls instead of exotic colours or wallpaper. Telling him that what he didn't like or wasn't sure of could be changed, if he said what would be better.

Better was so strange to him. He loved her pale skin as much as the pink of her pussy and nipples and lips. Fucking Chloe was warm like sunlight on soft rosy bedroom walls, painted to mimic the flush spilled down the middle of her chest from her salty neck.

There was nothing closer to perfect than being winded, human, and pained as he moved with her. Davis had to find some way to tell her, but she was the one with words. She did the talking and he listened, rapt.

He leaned Chloe back and picked her up, rising to his knees. She held on and waited, hung in his arms until he was on his knees, fucking straight up into her. The air was cool off the blankets and she shivered.

Davis put one arm out, blindly reaching for the mattress. They had to be down when they shattered. He had to cover her, keep her warm and make her break. They had to break each other until they reset all the old wounds.

Chloe's thighs were cramping and her tongue crackled with dryness. It was right there, the moment everything crashed into everything else. Her arms had stopped working. They splayed out to brace on the mattress. She missed her own bed but she thought people didn't fuck like this at home. They had to get out of their normal lives to burn down to nothing but nerve endings and skin.

Divinity and coarseness rubbed off on one another. Davis felt like he'd been sandblasted, but he was still moving, bobbing, tensing, pulling. His mouth hung open to grunt despair. Chloe was his addiction and his cure. Ridiculous, heady musings came and went in split seconds, barely registered. She was like his Eve, and her mouth was swollen with heat and hard kisses.

His knees went a few seconds before he came, sending him sprawling all over her. Chloe clawed at his chest and undulated under the bridge of his shaking arms. She scalded his cock with hot release. They were done, just in time not to perish.

She grabbed the back of his head and had to roll them to their sides. They'd kill each other long before the world had a chance. She let out a giggly sob.

No one could make her regret him.




Like it? let her know. Frankly, I hope she gets wayy more than one comment. I wanna see more! ;)