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.
No comments:
Post a Comment