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.