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.
“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.
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.
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