burdens of lace

Reccing Notes: Watching Bride was akin to watching an execution to me. Straight off of Abyss, a mind-wiped Chloe goes through the motions of being happy and her whole self...right about until the time Doomsday crashes in on the wedding.

At a few points in the episode, (Chloe's conversation with Lois) I actually had to pause because she looked so decidedly UNhappy. So pausing there, right at the wedding, I wondered what would happen if Chloe knew something was wrong. Who would she go to for help?

by vagrantdream at her/my livejournal

1269 words, nc-17, bride

"I’m not right.”

Chloe hedged into the room the wedding guests were just starting to fill. Ahead of her were her best friend, Lois, Jimmy laughing loudly at a dirty joke... As she walked, the garter scratched into her thigh like some primitive claim of ownership. Jimmy’s, who wanted to be the one and only and hadn’t cared enough to call after he’d taken her virginity. She didn’t feel any warm prickle inside her at the thought that he’d be attempting to yank the garter off with his teeth after the reception. This felt like a parody, an inversion of what you heard you were supposed to do with your life. She felt dry, her legs creaking under her. It felt like she was losing the rest of her life, not starting it.

“No.” She whispered, trying the word out. Clark’s eyes zeroed in on her eerily. He looked suspicious and alarmed, though he couldn’t have heard. It seemed all wrong somehow, how invested he was in her marriage, when he had been such a small part of her life. Why was she doing this? Her memories were skewed, like her mother’s had been. It felt like something was taking control of her, something, and that was schizophrenia right there. The panic turned to a knot inside her and she was running from the uproar building behind her. Each of her steps felt lighter.


At her apartment, Chloe upended her private drawers, places Jimmy never thought to look. She drew soft fingers over a pile of computer print outs. Interviews, foster homes records, apartment leases…That was all she’d found on Davis Bloome, the heat of tension flipping dully under her skin. He’d called her three times and then he’d stopped.

It would have been wrong to answer: what kind of bride nursed such a fascination with another man? She had been a reporter who chased around stories that never came to fruition, but it seemed like she’d found it in Davis. They’d never done anything whatsoever, not until that one kiss. She’d rattled around the flower shop afterwards, desperate for his the light, fleeting touch back, wondering if… She couldn’t even remember what she’d been wondering.

Chloe jumped at the quick knock at her door, five minutes before her wedding had been supposed to happen. She recognized the knock and the door was open before she realized she was moving. She stood there, naked at the shoulders, stripped bare. Davis. Her breaths didn’t want to come.

His eyes lingered where the veil had fallen out of her fingers. “I’m sorry.” He said. He was in street clothes, but that didn’t hide the hero he wanted to be or the way his eyes clung to her, hurting. “I didn’t come to stalk you. I almost blacked out, tonight. I saw your car. I thought it might help me make peace…”

“I couldn’t marry him.” She blurted out. “I don’t think that’s who I am.” She giggled, haplessly. “Marrying Jimmy wasn’t right. I’m not right.”

Davis’s dark eyes flickered in relief and worry. “Chloe…”

“Please don’t leave.” She was in his arms, pressed against his chest, and the heat of him trickled over her shoulders and underneath her skin. The door latched behind his fingers, and when she lifted her mouth to brush his he held her to him for the longest time.


Chloe had been losing so much time. Davis wouldn’t be one of those minutes and hours she lost. She needed his memory filling her head, and he was filling her until she thought she could burst of the heat of it. Davis pushed inside her on what could have been her marriage bed; moving with increasing friction inside her, until her knuckles went white and tight over the garter he’d lowered into them. He soothed at the ringed mark it had left on her thigh, but he was so much. She couldn’t remember enough of this. Chloe flinched and bit until she tasted the blood blooming over the inside of her cheek.

She’d panted through Davis’s soft questions and touches, clutched at his fingers like she used to dream she had done. He confessed that his skin shattered knives, a fact that made little sense about her life in context- but it brought together one piece of the scrambled puzzle. She’d always had this feeling she would love him.
Her fingers prickled in nerves but the line of his cheekbone didn’t feel invulnerable. She’d seen it shift and soften. Davis drew her palm over his face, turned soft questing lips into it. He’d loved her through his fears about himself, through her fractured memories, through her flight and near wedding to another man. He was only human and she needed him.

“Nothing in my life makes sense anymore, and I now don’t want anything but you. I don’t know if it’s a connection between us-” Yet the feelings were like a solid, tangible thing that stirred all over her skin.

“I’ll lead you back.” He said, like the multiple times he had taken care of her. Davis’s protectiveness was written on his face, softened behind his lips and her naïve fingers. There was a desire in his eyes that had nothing to do with the fact that she was clinging to him in a dress she’d half wrenched off.

He’d kissed her shoulders around the beading of the gown, and scoured tender sucks under her throat. He was paying attention to her pleasure but that wasn’t enough. Being with Davis was falling into an increasingly deep spiral that demanded contact and movement and his hands crumpling her skirt around her waist. She rubbed up into his palm until he began to ease in and out of her body. He gave her a chance to decide what she wanted, and she edged her fingertips to his shoulders and reeled him in. He stopped controlling himself long enough to fall onto her with a series of agonized, electrifying thrusts. They evened out, slicker and deeper, but each time flickered though her face and broke her into a deeper sweat.

Chloe kissed Davis unevenly, softly fumbling for his back. She had never known good. A terrible deep feeling swelled inside her and arched her back wrackingly into the bed. His cock rubbed so thickly inside there was no nudging him where she needed, just feeling him everywhere at once as her muscles stung and burned and clutched at the throbbing slick heat of him. He swayed her neck back to nip. She was pleasure-addled and pliant. Her legs folded underneath her, and he came down on her, jerking.

She couldn’t see enough of Davis. He shook in a torture of exhaled breaths, soaking and burning under her skin. She dragged against him softly, feeling him twitch and wring out inside her, his face twisting in tender ecstasy. She hadn’t expected the passion between them to come this far.
Davis rubbed his nose against her cheek, shakily cuddling her against him. He was heavy and more human than she’d ever seen him. There was a small hard part in her that needed to keep him protected and safe. Chloe wrapped arms around his waist and squeezed. Her eyes met his, sticky and longing and he stumbled over her massive, torn bridal train to lift her free.

rest stop

Reccing Notes: So Chloe and Davis run away together. After seeing Davis's clear horror in Prey, it always seemed to me that he would be the more reluctant of the two to embrace his survival and crossing the savior/saved lines he and Chloe had set up. Based on this vid I made. Would that I had the vid skills to make it happen. (^-^)/

by vagrantdream at defying mythos
1842 words, nc-17, alternate universe/beast

Chloe lifted herself up to him with flickering eyes. He remembered, briefly, the night they’d met, he wanted to be the hero her eyes clung to. The light in her eyes had been a heady rush. He’d woken up in the darkness of the alley that night, screaming.

As a boy, Davis Bloome had always been aware of something dark stirring over him. He hadn’t seen the eternal cycle of blood and death, then.
“So you shut yourself off from everyone.”

Chloe thought he was afraid. As long as he could remember, Davis hadn’t taken the time to grow attached to people or places, he lived with what he was given and didn’t try for more. “It wasn’t right, Davis.” She whispered, pretty, soft green eyes sticking to his in the half-darkness. “You’re human.” Chloe was the only person he’d met back in Smallville who would describe him like that. She had left with him soon after they found out the truth. He’d been on the edge of a breakdown, grasping at straws to assuage the transformations.

He was squelching her life by lingering near her, even now. She was aiding him; he felt it taint her as they moved from town to town, cleaning up mobs of murderers and thugs. Davis was afraid of a lot of things; he was guilty of more. Chloe understood and accepted the best compromise. She had him. “How did you live?”

Something in his chest hurt, melting away inside. “I found you.” Davis whispered. She’d told him he could use his powers to stop the senseless killing. He’d wanted nothing more than to die until she’d picked him up off the ground.

His feelings for her had driven him before, one glance and he could barely speak. Chloe closed her hand over his. Her small palm fit there, hid the stretcher calluses and disappearing scars on his. “You have me.” This was charged, heavy; this was more. “I used to help people like you, but none of them cared for more than what I could do for them. You have all of me.”

Chloe lifted herself up to him with flickering eyes. He remembered, briefly, the night they’d met, he wanted to be the hero her eyes clung to. The light in her eyes had been a heady rush. He’d woken up in the darkness of the alley that night, screaming.

Now, Chloe knew what he was-immortal, panicked, something that ought to exist only in nightmares of what her life could have become. She didn’t look at him any differently. I don’t have forever, Davis. He kissed her before the words could be spoken.

They had been subsisting off of light touches since they’d taken to the road. Any kisses were clinging and afraid; broken as soon as one of them came down on a hard surface. It was hardest to stop. She closed her eyes like he was hurting. Her mouth was hot and yielded easily, her gulps and breaths pulling themselves into his lungs. Davis wrapped an arm around her, fingers brushing the hollow of her back before she went off balance.

Chloe rubbed him into her body. He fisted the frail cloth breath and thrust blindly. She cried out. Heat, wet cotton, denim- the blood draining its way out of his brain caught up to him. Fingers brushed his lightly, whispering the cotton down her legs, flush moisture singeing at his cock. He grabbed at them, and held on, blinking painfully. The danger here was to her. When she opened her eyes, Davis couldn’t move.

“Take it, quick.” She said. Chloe was beautiful- her shoulders twitching, red from his hands, a flush making its way down her neck. She hadn’t had time to let her impulses out anywhere else; they usually talked more, but when they dealt with complex feelings this way there seemed less of a chance for tears. “I-I don’t want to do this on my own again.” She said. She smelled like apprehension and heat.

Her mouth found his neck and she was trying not to look at him. They’d both been taking small steps back to protect the other- but was it so hard to admit that that was useless? Her voice was small and gasping as he pushed her up against the closest surface he could find. Davis felt himself clench.

Blindness trickled into his eyes- a dark cloud vaguely reminiscent of his losses of consciousness. He could feel every contact of her knees with his, the small soft press of her tongue against her teeth, her wet intakes of breath. Chloe stumbled back into the coffee table, purplish jacket catching on the ratty lamp shade, dimming their tiny light bulb even further.

Chloe had seen what he was capable of. She was remarkably intelligent even without an alien construct in her head. She knew what it took to preserve her life and safety and did just the opposite. Her fingers locked his mouth to her neck, pulling the buttons out of the way so he could bury his face in soft skin. He closed his eyes and dragged his tongue over a peaking nipple. She made a soft, impatient sound and pushed her body needily up to his mouth. Arousal gave way to a solid, agonizing burn and it was hard to keep perspective when she was a trying to kiss his bottom lip with clingy uncoordinated motions. He aligned them and dipped his hand between her legs, finding the solid circular motion that she liked.

“Y-you.” She stuttered.

“No. Not yet.”

She groped at his lips, prised at them with her tongue, nudging him in. “Yes.”

The room was swimming, a cloud of motion. Chloe had wrapped her half clothed legs around his hips where he stood. Her fingers wrapped around him for a moment, stroked against feverish flesh and he literally couldn’t see past the glimmer gleam that was her eyes. They watered and winced when he pushed inside her completely. He didn’t fare much better when her muscles trapped him in sultry clasp. Chloe shifted her head, down on the desk, licking at her mouth, holding his hands over her hips. “Slow.” He groaned softly, not understanding if it was a command or a reassurance. “I want to be with you.”

Davis thrust into her a little harder, clenching his hands and eyes shut above her, trying to forget her mouth and the soft reciprocating motions of her body; he couldn’t come like a teenager, not now, even if it felt like he had the only thing he’d ever wanted. He needed to show her. Davis considered climbing over her but her face was already clenching at the awkward position. She was trying to get him where she needed him. Her inner muscles tightened in increasingly powerful ripples. “Uhuh. That's--that's it..”

No, he thought, biting into his bottom lip desperately.

He followed her tugs, higher inside her, and it was like she was exercising some invisible magnetic pull. The soft blurriness of her eyes and her wetness and the soft movements of her lips- ‘more’ driving him pound into her like a heedless, violent animal. “No.” He muttered, stilling and gasping, nudging back inside. She was open to him, so hot he could have sworn he’d burn up if he didn’t move a little. She scratched with hot fingers and he jerked.

“Yes. Davis…” The column of her neck rolled, so white and perfect he longed to brush his fingers there. Davis pumped into her from where he stood, wishing he had the power to twist and bend himself close enough to kiss it. His power was to bring death to everything he touched. She trusted him, somehow.

Her legs buckled against his back, softly, like the life had left the invisible, threatening faces under his fingers. She’d seen. Yet, she was helpless and needy and he wanted to hold her as she broke. Davis hunched his back to kiss her and her lips panted dryly against his. He clasped at her shoulders, the muscles jumping at the unexpected restriction. Chloe swiveled, legs quivering wildly as he surged in once more, a tell tale trickle signaling that he was losing it. She had to come.

There was a Chloe blanket over his thoughts, her face and her sweetness and how badly he needed her. How badly he wanted her to need him. “Yes. Yes. Y-“

His hands kept their hold, nearly bruising her. Chloe jerked and he was trapped inside hot agony, wrung out with warm squeezes. He felt warm, pouring himself into her so deeply he cried out and clutched not to go to his knees. The terror and blanketing defenses in his mind shattered into oblivion. He was empty except for Chloe and she was curving his head into her shoulder, murmuring.

Her hips lifted unconsciously up to his as she rode what remained of her climax out, grinding against his pelvis, lips parted tenderly. Davis could feel little shocks of it going through his system and groped to squeeze her hands while she felt it. Chloe uttered a sound and dropped her head back against the wall.

“What-what is it?”

“I think I must be in love with you.” She whispered. It had been their first time for everything. Hazed, he gathered Chloe back into his arms, her proximity like a drug in his system. It was all he wanted to hear and now all his mouth wanted to do was gape. He knew, but the words were new nevertheless.

“We’re going to be doing this more once we get out of here.”

Davis didn’t want to think of the ominous, bloody miles of road ahead of them. He didn’t have the heart to speak. Her hand trailed awkwardly against his shirt, and she was shaky and beaming. Chloe looked so- free-for a moment that it seemed almost a crime that the thing in him could hold her.

“Hey.” He breathed instead. The world had rarely been kind or good even in his ironic as life as paramedic, but he grasped onto hope through sheer will. Chloe had lived most of her life used and ignored by some of the most clueless men in the world. She loved him, somehow, unbelievably, and there had to be some order in the universe that said he would make her happy. His nose rubbed into her hair; the pang was bittersweet. He, not the beast, would kill anything that took that away from her. It felt like that time was coming closer.

Davis would have been lying to himself if he told himself he hid it from her. The smile in the corner of her eyes had dimmed a little.

“I’m sorry, Chloe. I love you.”

She didn’t expect the guilt and constant terror to disappear just because she took him inside her. Yet she almost could have sworn there had been a moment when she’d seen it all leave his face. She needed that for him.

“You should be sorry.” Chloe told him thoughtfully, dragging her head into his shoulder. “You’re heavy.”

i will hold you while the world falls to pieces

Reccing Notes: So let's talk about Stiletto- Davis's spined alter ego drags Chloe's potential killer down and makes mincemeat out of him. Oh so wrong, but somehow the perfect jumping place for a sexual chlavis relationship. (Just check out the tag. ;P)

xxamlaxx's characterization of Chloe as a strong woman in control of her desires and more than capable of hiding a body is pitch perfect. We can see, right from the getgo, why Davis is so completely smitten.

by xxlamlaxx at her livejournal

1189 words, nc-17, stiletto

“I’m sorry for what I did earlier.” He brushes his thumb across the line of red on her neck, the superficial cut too close to her jugular for comfort. He isn’t sorry and he never will be sorry because it saved Chloe’s life. The world is made of silence and concrete and the smell of copper. Blood gleams wet and red in trails on the floor, shines scarlet on Chloe’s skin as she kneels on her hands and knees beside him, grips an extra sponge between her fingers and scrubs. The crimson washes away in pink rivers of water, foamy soap, white bubbles that pop when she wipes the ground with a towel.

“That looks clean.” Blood has dried on Chloe’s palms, emphasizes the lines of her hands and fingers in ruby. “I’m going to go take a shower; I’ll bring you something to eat when I come back.” Chloe’s footsteps echo off the cold, isolating walls, bounce back and settle into silence as the basement doors close; a sliver of yellow light permeates the blackness of the cellar, shining from beneath the crack in the door. He waits for the light to fade, for the dark outlines of Chloe’s feet to gravitate out of sight, but instead they remain in place. He rests his ear against the cool metal of the door, hears the soft sound of Chloe crying, the thud of her body as it slides to the floor. He listens to her sob, shuddering inhalations, his fingertips flat against painted steel.

Chloe leaves after long moments of crying, of standing motionless, whispering apologies into the darkness. Chloe is as invincible as a sheet of paper in a rainstorm but he’s the only one who knows it. Chloe is supposed to be a foundation and a support beam but cement can crack and crumble just like wood rots and splinters. Expectations, responsibility, and worries are all weights on Chloe’s shoulders that his presence has no doubt only augmented. A myriad of contrite words sit heavily on his tongue and he presses his hands against the basement doors and pushes, steps into the light and freedom.

“Shouldn’t you be in the basement?” Droplets of water trickle from Chloe’s wet hair, land on the cotton of her t-shirt, soak into the material immediately. There are damp, dark spots on her shoulders and brown hair rather than gold. Her green eyes are uncharacteristically miserable; she radiates vulnerability as she runs a brush through her hair.

“I can go back down, if you want.” She looks at him with a modicum of fear blazing in her irises. She looks at him like he’s a monster, like he’ll hunt her down and tear her up and rip bone from flesh and muscle. When their eyes meet he can see it killing the man from earlier, turning a body to ooze, a puddle of blood and skin and tissue; the scene of horror reflecting in her eyes, playing over and over like a broken movie reel.

“No, it’s alright. Are you hungry?” She pads barefoot across the carpet, her long t-shirt stops at her mid-thigh. He tries to focus on the carpet, but his gaze is drawn to the golden, toned flesh on the back of her legs, the taught curve of her calf muscles. “I can cook you something.” Her slender hand closes around the refrigerator door handle; there are clinks of condiment bottles rattling together as she pulls it open. “Um..” She glances at him, a tinge of red rushing to her cheeks. “You might want to go downstairs and put on some clothes.” He realizes for the first time that he’s still naked, that his clothes are lying in scraps of cloth on the basement floor. “I’ll bring you a sandwich. No tomato right?”

“Yeah.” He walks back down into the basement, into the cold and the quiet, finds a pair of boxers in the drawer by his cot. “You could have told me I was naked earlier.” Chloe sets the plate down on the end of his cot, draws her hand back before their fingers can touch.

“You don’t buy something without inspecting the merchandise first.” Chloe is snark and wit and humor but she runs a hand through her damp hair, adjusts the hem of her t-shirt, tugs it down lower on her smooth thighs.

“I’m sorry for what I did earlier.” He brushes his thumb across the line of red on her neck, the superficial cut too close to her jugular for comfort. He isn’t sorry and he never will be sorry because it saved Chloe’s life and as much as he hates what he is, what he becomes, what he will always be; Chloe is alive and there is no good and no evil in a world where he still has Chloe Sullivan. “Please don’t be afraid of me Chloe.” He holds her chin between his thumb and index fingers, gulps down the sadness rising in his esophagus when she turns her head away.

“I’m not afraid.” Her palm glides over the back of his hand, gently eases it away. “Everything is difficult now Davis. I only leave the apartment when I have to, I can’t have anyone over for an extended period of time. I’m lying to Clark…I know this is the only way to protect him, to protect the world but it’s hard.”

“I can go, if you want me to.” He’ll destroy the planet if he leaves, if he goes back out into the city of reprobates and innocents and mendicants, the city that lives and breathes and dies as easily as a human. One night and he can make the streets run silent, cause cars to sit idly on the pavement, cold engines and metal, bodies lying on the streets in heaps, shards of glass and broken concrete on the sidewalk. “Just tell me to leave and I will.”

“I won’t.” She smells like soap, shampoo and sweetness, tastes like water and stale coffee when she leans forward and kisses him. Her lips are silky soft, parting against his, a slick slip of tongue into his mouth. “No.” She shrugs his hands from her shoulders, uncurls his fingers from the collar of her t-shirt, preventing him from pulling it over her head, revealing what he imagines is pale skin and perfect breasts.

“Do you want to do this?” His voice is a strained whisper as she mouths his Adam’s apple, slowly licks a line down his chest, runs her tongue along his pectoral and abdominal muscles.

“I don’t want to do that.” She murmurs into his stomach, words muffled in his abdomen. “But I want you.” And then she sinks down, takes him into warm wetness, takes in the little boy who couldn’t love and the man who can’t help but love. Chloe swallows him hard, swallows him deep, has his heart beating rapidly in his chest and sweat forming on his skin. Her fingers migrate to the base of his cock, stroke and squeeze while she hums around him, draws out ecstasy and relaxation.

“We could make this easier.” He tells her later, as they lie side by side on his cot, his head on her chest, her fingers running through his hair. “We could go somewhere, you and I, away from Clark, away from the temptation.”

“I’m willing to give it a try.”

He tightens his arm around Chloe’s waist, holds onto the only certainty in his life.

this tornado loves you

Reccing Notes: So remember that time after Eternal where we were all going 'Chloe locked the door, omygod she locked the door?' Well, I was in horrible withdrawal so I wheedled my flist and the lovely simplytoopretty wrote this. She's (usually) a Chloe/Clark writer, and one of the best. Her Chlavis is among my favorites because she handles every facet of their relationship, including Chloe's insecurities and Clark's lingering effect on her.

Chloe's terrified of the implications the beast and Davis's apparent immortality will have for her best friend, but there's something between them, anyway. Just read between the lines, at all that remains unsaid as that line is crossed. It will break your heart. And you will come back for more.

by simplytoopretty at her livejournal
771 words, r, eternal

Instead she finds herself nodding her head, muttering, “Yes,” unable to resist what she feels. A part of her is horrified at what she’s doing, but the larger part is rejoicing in her decision. Chloe descends the stairs slowly, an almost creep. Her feet against the cement stairs are nearly soundless. Her left hand grips the wooden railing as she climbs down the stairs, darkness surrounding her. The light is bad and the shadows litter every corner.

At the bottom of the stairs she pauses. To call out or to wait for him to notice her arrival: her mind is unsettled. A part of her would like to return up the stairs and pretend she was never down here.

The choice is taken away from her.

“You’re back,” Davis says as he comes forward, out of the dark gloom. His clothing consists of dark gray sweatpants and a dark green shirt. In contrast, his skin is white, almost the color of chalk.

There are lights in the basement, but only one is functional. It’s the one directly above where she stands, at the base of the stairs. Pale yellow light that barely penetrates the dimness.

“You’re back,” he repeats, relief evident in his voice. Guilt sweeps over her: a part of her had desperately wanted to run away once she got down here. He needs her and a part of her just wants to run.

She shouldn’t be here, yet she is. There’s a pull between them, she can’t deny it, and it frightens her. There’s been nothing like this in her life before.

Davis moves, closing the distance between them. A slice of air between their bodies. She tilts her head slightly to see his eyes, those dark pools that entrance and terrify her at the same time. His hand falls upon her cheek, a gentle caress, nothing monstrous about it. His palm is warm and she wants to lean into his touch.

Yet she shouldn’t. He is, after all, a killer. A part of her screams that killing is his nature; she’s torn between sympathy and revulsion. The sympathy side is winning out, the side that sees his nature as a battle he has lost in the past but one he may be able to win in the future.

It seems to depend on her. This knowledge weighs on her, a burden she can’t simply shrug off.

“I missed you,” Davis says. His thumb is brushing her cheek.

“Davis…”

“I need you.”

Chloe closes her eyes. It’s heady to hear these words, this admission. His fingers are beneath her chin, lifting her head just a bit, and then his lips are landing on hers. A light, soft pressure: tentative exploration.

He pulls back, his hands threaded through her hair now. He looks at her eyes, assessing it seems, and then says, “I want all of you.”

Her throat is dry and she swallows quickly. “I…what do you mean?”

“I want to know all of you.”

The answer she should give is a firm no. Instead she finds herself nodding her head, muttering, “Yes,” unable to resist what she feels. A part of her is horrified at what she’s doing, but the larger part is rejoicing in her decision.

His lips are on hers again and she can barely think; there’s a pounding in her head and it dominates everything. Fingers fumble with clothing, removing as much as nothing. His sweatpants, her jeans, their shoes. The items of clothing abandoned on the cold basement floor for now.

There’s a couch, in the corner, in the darkness. Davis presses her against the wall, her cotton shirt and jacket a barrier between the cement and her fragile skin.

“Here?” he says.

The light from the lamp just reaches them where they are. Darkness permeated.

“Here,” Chloe says. Here is with her back against the hard wall. Here is where things are real and gritty and everything that she needs.

He pushes into, their bodies joining intimately. Her fingers clutch at his cotton-covered shoulders as he thrusts in and out of her willing body. Their eyes are locked, their gaze never breaking. His eyes are dark and she gets lost in them. She can’t think.

When he comes, he says, “I love you.”

She bites her lip, unable to return the words as her orgasm washes over her. Pleasure spreads and there was already the pounding in her head and yet she still bites her lip to keep quiet. Despite what she feels, that tug between them, she can’t hand over that last element.

His eyes register his disappointment as they disentangle their bodies.

On her lips are the words I’m sorry.

But Chloe doesn’t say those words.

cotton candy liberty

Reccing Notes: Something amazing happens when Davis's biggest tragedy of the moment is Chloe being able to really let loose and...um...not feeling like he's going to make it. Control the fangirl screaming, yeah?

by nonky at her livejournal
500 words, nc-17, futurefic

He didn't remember the last time he had been afraid to touch her.



Davis Bloome mused absently that he and Chloe had finally gotten used to one another. His arms clamped around her sweaty body as she jerked her hips cruelly into his cock. She let out an exhausted cry and he cupped one hand roughly in her hair as they lurched back hard into the mattress.

He didn't remember the last time he had been afraid to touch her. His grip could splinter wood, but seemed to recognize Chloe's flesh as something ruthlessly pure; crushing it would only release that purity like an offensive of beauty. She tugged at the back of his head, telling him she was not as close as he was – demanding he slow himself down or speed her body to another climax.

It was somehow flattering how she was constantly asking the impossible from him, but he could not slow down.

Davis actually had to wrench himself free, nearly sobbing with effort as her pussy dragged on him with every increment into the cold, lonely world outside. Chloe wanted to save him, and her body wanted to save him by extension. He braced for the pain, and eased himself with a kiss that pushed them together with sloppy suction. If he wasn't careful, he'd forget he just pulled out of her.

He breathed against her puckered nipple, misting it with hot exhales. God, she was so short sometimes standing beside him, but so tall when he was trying to get down her body. The thousands of miles of twitching, distracting skin blazed under his face and hands as he rolled like a jalopy with four flat tires, running on watered down gasoline. Chloe made a sound, a flesh-toned kind of murmur and he found himself grinding on her leg.

I'm not going to make it, he thought tragically. This time I won't.

She yanked on his head, actually lifting him away from her chest so he was snapped out of the sexual haze. Chloe pushed on his crown and slung her legs over his shoulders. She rolled up to him and Davis was nose and tongue deep in her juices. He feasted on her with a whole body set of motions that he was sure were absurd to watch – if either of them could have peeled their eyelids open at that moment. His hips were thrusting mid-air, balls irritated by all the motion and none of the homey feel of being notched between her legs.

Sticky sweetness burned down his lips and in to pool around his blisteringly thirsty tongue. He could sense her tension building, snapping, turning to ash. He could destroy her with so little of this new, alien strength, but neither of them were afraid.

The only way Chloe Sullivan would go to pieces by his actions was the cotton candy melt of golden curls warmed between her legs.

“Davis,” she called hoarsely, and his cock ached for her as if she were dead.

He gasped and moaned out the interminable journey back up Chloe's front to kiss her again.

the flip side of hellfire

Reccing Notes: Hopeless after his resurrection in Eternal, Davis makes the one sacrifice he has left. His own personal hell for Clark and the world. Chloe follows him to the Phantom Zone, and their chances of survival start trickling down. Written because I wanted to see Chloe pushed to an unreasonable extreme for having to give Davis up over and over. Also, there needs to be more phantom zone pronz.

by vagrantdream at her/my livejournal

2871 words, nc-17, eternal/beast

"I'm not going to spend my life missing you, you know."

Davis held her eyes over the crackling air of the fortress. It seemed to her that the black crystal was still, poised over the portal that would take him to hell.



When she'd been with Davis she had always been moving. When she met him she took slow, tentative steps to something that called to her; the guilt was rust in her mouth. Then she'd broken into a run , a blank slate and the comforting heat of him. he'd brought her back. When he'd told her he'd wait her feet were standing still but the bottom had fallen out of her world.

Then, the crisis point- the equivalent of nuclear devastation under his skin and headlines that screamed cornfield killer. She chased after him in betrayal and sparks of the last love she had left. They'd run away together if that was what it came down to.

Chloe had never said the right words, not that she'd missed him, what she felt. Davis had tried return the equilibrium to her world, change it to the way is was before he'd turned it. He'd bring Jimmy back to her on drug recovery but Chloe had seen the ugliness underneath. As his last magic trick-he was going to disappear.

"Don't." She said.

"This way the world can have Clark." You can have Clark, his eyes said; he'd known that Clark had taken front and center if not for who he was but what he did. So Davis was leaving to a vapid wasteland, the only place she could never get him back.

"I'll have nothing." It struck Chloe that she'd always wanted her own Kryptonian hero and he was doing it the only way he could. He didn't even know.

"I'm sorry. I won't take another life"

"I'm giving you mine."

"What if I don't want it?" The lie was the set of his shoulders, the way the man who looked the world head on could not look at her face.

"It's yours. I feel something."

Chloe knew that an honest admission of what he felt would be too much for him. He moved and before she knew it she was swung into his grasp. She held his eyes-bewildered heat and hope as his thumb traced her cheek. He closed his eyes first as the red maw swirled around them . She closed a fist over his. Davis kissed her and it was too passionate, deep and full of a thousand promises that would never be fulfilled.

"I want you." She said, but her wanting had never changed the world.

Davis took a step back and his mouth formed a true smile again, that kind she could never stay away from. "Good to know I hadn't completely lost it."

"I'm not going to spend my life missing you, you know." Chloe told him; she was going to live.

She reached out a hand and brushed his sleeve; his eyes flickered. When they fell into the other world together, she thought maybe she could find her equilibrium.



Chloe struck the sand of the phantom zone with paralyzing impact in her side. Davis had shielded her from the brunt of the impact, but even then her body ached like she had landed on hot steel. Davis's face pressed against her shoulder and she felt the muscles work against her skin.

"You stayed with me." he whispered. There was fear, the soft rush of breath like you heard in a romance movie. He was heavy on her and she shivered. “Don’t move.” He whispered into her neck. She fantasized about this very situation, but his tone was all wrong, wary. Chloe touched at his face, feeling the tension coiled up in him. He was hearing something she could not.

Clinging to Davis, she heard nothing more threatening than shifting sands before it struck. Chloe had considered the Phantom Zone a place for wraiths, hostile ghosts, not living, hungry predators for too long.

Something slimy and razor-sharp wound over her ankle and yanked. It whip-lashed her and by extension Davis into the air. Chloe landed in a rolling heap, freezing when she wasn’t holding onto him anymore. She was the aperitif. Chloe dangled upside down in the air before the gaping hole of a mouth, rows and rows of needle-like teeth and vaguely she heard Davis yelling for her. It had her too tight. She gasped in a breath and smelled the ripe, rotting fragrance of decaying blood. She struck out blindly, blood painfully rushing to her brain. The eyes.

Chloe was plucked from the air like a doll, skin rasping. She had half a mind to kick out but she recognized the raspiness. Davis was half-transformed, his skin warring on warped black and his eyes red. He deposited her on the ground softly. A whip of sound took him from her sight, but she heard it roar out of him. There were wet, slicing noises- the impact of thick bony plates on muscled, fleshy tentacles. The tide turned as Doomsday was crushed into that maw of a mouth, let out a howl. Chloe had never been so afraid. She forced herself to limp up because she could be a distraction.

She heard the gurgle as Doomsday tore its claws through its belly at the last moment. The tentacled creature fell with a nauseating impact, and the red eyes that held hers over the carcass looked-almost- protective.





Doomsday must have taken her miles, to a decently sized cave free of tentacled monsters. It stopped short of the opening, as if knowing it’s sized would crumble the cave and kill her if it tried to find comfort for itself. The red sun beat down on it, lighting black scales to dirty orange parts of its side crusty black. Was it…bleeding?

Chloe crawled forward, dragging her leg behind her and laid a hand on it’s side. Her fingers came away sticky and it made a little hissing sound, scrabbling back a few steps. She used to touch Davis like this and it had helped him turn back.

“Thank you. Hold still. I’m going to help you.” It wasn’t sentient in the same way Davis was, but it understood survival, could hear the soothing tone to her voice and stopped scrabbling away. Chloe had to get half out of the cave to reach the looming form. It collapsed into the sand with a thump.




Davis must have woken up about an hour later. The horrific silence of this place and his jerkily breathing body made it seem like years. Davis was sentient though; the very first thing he did was pull out of her clinging grip to assess the situation and reset her ankle. His eyes were terrified and betrayed and loving; Chloe almost wished another tentacled monster appeared just to banish the awkwardness.

“You’re hurt.”

“So are you.” She indicated the black blood mixing with his own, starker on his bare skin and the muscle there. Down girl.

Davis knew how to deal with his own injuries, but she prodded at the uninjured skin. There were three claw-marked gauges tainted with oozing black venom right under his pectoral. The blood was more jarring on Davis and Chloe could see how it cut through to the muscle.

“I’ll be fine.” Davis insisted, moving closer to the light at the cave mouth, dazed from the venom. Chloe wrapped an arm around him and pulled him back. His body was complacent and his eyes didn’t look in the shape to argue with her.

“The sun is red here so Kryptonians won’t heal. You'd be better off here.”

“Straight from the mouth of the professor of Kryptonian history, M.D.” Davis’s was sweating thickly; it was probably some sort of paralyzing drug but he was lifting an eyebrow, making an effort to smile and set her at ease.

Unwillingly, Chloe felt the corner of her mouth curl up into a smile. “That’s P.H.D, actually. You need to let me suck the venom out.”

His eyes widened for a fraction of a second only. He wasn’t Clark. He knew they couldn’t mop ineffectually at it and expect the poison to go away. “Come on, Davis.”

“Be careful.”

Davis held still when she pressed her lips to his chest and sucked. It didn’t feel awkward or unnatural at all. His skin was much hotter than hers, a raspy smattering of hair and skin sensitive enough to goose-bump as soon as her mouth touched him. Vaguely, Chloe wondered what his skin tasted like. She couldn’t find out like this.

She had to be extra careful not to swallow a drop because the poison would kill her in seconds. His head tilted back when she started drawing on his blood. His breaths shifted to quick and she should have been thinking about how much pain instead of how beautiful his eyes looked when they slammed shut. His hand found purchase on her waist and pulled at her top, fingers shaking.

Chloe froze as his fingers touched her skin and tried not to move much when she spat out the poison into the sand. Her mouth was numb. He was hurt, shaking against her, barely moving otherwise. She had him for the rest of her life but she didn’t know if that amounted to much more than a day for either of them.




Davis had barely said a word since he woke, but he was starting to recover his speech. She’d been curled up next to him for nearly three hours before he finally whispered.

“Why did you do it?”

She clenched her fist and loosened it. It was hard to be mad at him. Davis had been trying to save her all along, saved her from getting turned into a yet another afterthought and she didn’t even know if he was going to heal.

“Because I’m selfish and stupid enough to be in love with you. I can’t watch you go into hell alone, and I don’t want that guy I care about to disappear because no one, not even him will make an effort to make things right.”

Davis looked at her, one of his tender, searching looks. By the end of it she wanted to shift her eyes down. “I want to spend my life with you. And if it’s just you, that’s fine too.”

His lips parted. “I don’t think it’s that long.”

Chloe straightened. “You’re not making it any longer by fantasizing about sending me back so you can get back to what you really want and invite more of those things to lunch on you. I get it.”

“I just didn’t want you to give your life up for me, Chloe. It’s not worth it.”

There was his problem. The blackouts and the blood and death had messed him up into seeing himself as nothing more than a shell unworthy of feelings from anyone. If it had been her he would have been the first one to speak on her behalf.

“Stop talking.”

“You’re the only one to ever love me.” His eyes were wet, like when he’d said it to her the first time. “I didn’t want you to suffer for it.” Davis crawled back from her a little further.

“I chose it, so deal.” If she reached an arm out she could get him to hold her again. She wouldn’t. She wasn’t sorry. She was just feeling cold. Desert nights were even colder here than in real deserts.

“I didn’t mean it that way. I do want you here.” he said very softly. “You’re the only one.” He kept looking at her and got closer, probably to get his jacket. Chloe ignored him and sat up to wipe the poison taste from her mouth again, only to close her eyes at he licked softly at her chaffed ankle. She hadn’t expected him to return the favor. He kissed her knee and up her thigh. She held her hands stiff because they were coated in red and she was angry and she wanted nothing more than to slide them into his hair.

When he kissed her mouth the response was automatic, wanting and squirming and not having to manipulate him into not dying. His mouth was parching and hot and flush on hers, (somehow even warmer than the rest of him) and his hands were on her face like he was holding her so she wouldn’t get away. If he wanted to play it like that- Chloe scratched at his neck and he shifted her down. No doubt about his intentions now.

There was sex that was about lust, sex that was about anger, sex that was about yearning and soft feelings and this was neither and all of them. He bit at her mouth to be let in, warm humid, living heat and Chloe sucked on his tongue. His mouth fumbled under her jaw line before his mouth teased wetly between her breasts and trailed down her abdomen. White-hot heat started to spike through her. Davis dragged himself up her like some sort of animal and she knew he smelled it.

Chloe raised herself to her knees and tore at her jacket, missing the warmth but counting on him to be the heat. If she didn’t deal with the clothes he would and this was the only pair she would have for a long time. She let them drop. Her forehead slouched into his shoulder and he pressed between her legs with sudden electric pressure, hesitated and watched her eyes and seeing some invisible thing, pushed his cock inside. Chloe’s eyes watered, he was in her rough and so deep it ached.

She’d wondered sometimes, how it would be, if it would hurt. She couldn’t connect it with the vague stirrings with Jimmy that vanished as soon as he rolled over. Davis seemed like too much passion, too much for her too handle. Maybe she’d been right. Davis pulled her forward, palms huge against her face and he was just hard inside her, not doing anything at all. Chloe felt like some part of her displaced and left only room for him. She started it, aligning them to kiss him better, shifting her hips against his.

His hands closed over them and he kissed her roughly, pausing to push her into a cold, rasping wall. Chloe wanted to let him know it was uncomfortable but he’d dropped his head into her shoulder, pulsing and hot and doing something at last. Chloe’s eyes fixed on the ominous cave mouth and closed and she could have sworn she saw sparks.

Davis's skin thrummed over hers, her hands tried unsuccessfully to sooth the blood dripping from the reopened cut in his side and clawed at his ass instead. Davis hissed a slow breath from between his teeth and rolled her against the wall- clutching at her shoulders, elbows, her hips like he couldn’t get close enough.

In any other place, it could have been rationalized as an effort to save one or both of them. It was out of their hands now. His hands wrapped and fisted in her hair, his mouth at buried itself against her throat, almost as if he was trying to forget about everything that surrounded them. Davis hated not being able to save her from what he saw as his punishment; he took his and his evil alien parent’s responsibilities upon himself, that’s just how he was. Chloe understood. He rocked a little more violently and what she needed to say parched and cracked in her throat with a small orgasmic sound. She was drenched in heat and the blood roared in her ears.

The pleasure was like plummeting; complete freefall, waiting for another impact. It was coming, quivering through her overtaxed nerve endings again and Davis notched his head into her shoulder. She bit into her lip and drew blood and she couldn’t taste the venom anymore so she licked at his neck and his skin tasted like salt. Black closed over the sides of her vision, but she felt him tossing and quivering and his hands stroking over her knee when he spilled into her. Then her knees went.

Her arguments about his culpability issues were temporarily halted by her inability to string two sentences together. Davis carried her to the corner and she curled around his arm, steering clear of the injured parts. She was warmed by the erratic sound of his heart and him but she was sticky and cold. She groped for her jacket and curled the arm of it around him.

“I don’t deserve you.” He said softly, tracing at her nose with a blunt finger. “Because of you I have a reason to go on.” He rolled over and looked at her with earnest eyes. “I’ll take care of you.” Chloe nudged his shoulder and his hands seemed to develop a will of their own. “I’ll get to know the terrain. You can explain the phantoms, we can catalog the species and learn which to avoid, I’ll learn to control the beast…”

Chloe breathed in the scent of his skin and felt her ankle prickle under his roving, curious weight. She could see it already-he’d catch her things to eat with his hands and come home naked and they’d probably die of acute sexual exhaustion.

Davis pulled her hands over her head and kissed her wrists. They had a lot a time to make up for, and she’d almost forgotten what they had been arguing about. But she took advantage of the last moment to make her point.

“I’m still not sorry I came.”

full as a tick, shredding ivory

Reccing Notes: Simply the most in-character and thud-worthy conclusion to all the connection and buildup in early season 8. If Bride hadn't been turned into a horror movie- it could have simply been this- two people no longer trying push themselves into the lives they're 'destined' to have. Skipping out of a wedding and significant garment tearing has never been so hot. Things are said that are every shipper's dream.

by nonky at her livejournal

1800 words, nc-17, bride

She had seen Davis like he was a full-colour figure in a black and white photograph.
He wanted her. Chloe knew he wanted her, but Davis was grappling with who he was. He didn’t feel like the guy who broke up a wedding and drove off with the bride edging closer to his lap. He didn’t feel like someone who set out to rip up the cosy and sweet home life that made him envious. He was a healer because he knew what it was like to know there was no one on the way to help. He did good things out of a realistic belief that there were enough bad things already happening.

If he was going to mix in the sea of humanity and put himself in reach of the everyday ugliness of people, Davis was going to make a difference. The best he could say about showing up at Chloe’s wedding was that he’d probably put a damper on some drinking at the reception.

He had gotten as far as pulling her hair out of the sculpted curls. He pinned her to the inside of his apartment door – like they were on the run from a wedding mob that would take her back and make her kiss Jimmy by clinking glasses. He had good timing for a first-time wedding crasher. He got there after her walk down the aisle but before the invitation to ‘speak any reservations’ why the marriage couldn’t happen.

Chloe had been tied up in hellish swings of selfishness and honour, before she recognized it was all garbage. She chose Jimmy, and agreed to marry him. Changing her mind wasn’t something she’d set out to do, but it was an organic, natural progression. She couldn’t keep herself exactly as she was forever. She’d met Davis, changed her mind, and that was it. Jimmy would have sore feelings, and they would both be stuck paying their half of the wedding, anyway. She had made a point to have insurance to cover all but this eventuality – changing her mind wasn’t covered.

There was a pause as the minister leafed through his prayer book, and Chloe’s gaze had drifted away from Jimmy and down the rows of seats. She had seen Davis like he was a full-colour figure in a black and white photograph. He was pale, but he was brighter than the sunshine lighting up her big day. He had smiled, incredibly gentle and hopeful, and she felt her feet drifting from Jimmy. Her fiancé actually reached out to help her, thinking her shoes were giving her trouble. When she drew her hand back, Jimmy got the message. He wasn’t fast enough to talk her out of it.

She didn’t run, but she didn’t stop for the people who climbed uncertainly to their feet. She didn’t answer the yelled questions, or look back to the man deflating under the minister’s encouraging grip. Clark and Lois were stunned, her cousin grinning in that slightly insensitive way that showed Lois’ delight in chaos. Davis stayed stiffly sitting down, his shoulders jerking with tension until she stopped at the end of his row. He shoved along without apologies, knowing how hard those steps back down the aisle must have been. He was determined Chloe wouldn’t be going through anything else alone.

They grabbed at each other, and fled, agreeing without any discussion to go to his place. Chloe didn’t know what would become of her things at the apartment. She was ready to let them go. Any sense of loss was held off by a growing excitement low in her belly. Davis had given her his jacket, but the shivers were shocks of emotion. She had upended every bit of her history. Guilt was a part of it, but the largest part was startled joy. She had thought about her thousands of dollars of debts, her elaborate dress and hairstyle, her expectant groom and guests; then leapt in the opposite direction. She had fooled all of them right up to the last second. She had surprised herself most of all.

“I want you to take me,” she told him, swaying in his arms. Davis winced as her thigh rubbed hard along his erection. Chloe could nearly hear his patience grind. She pushed his jacket off her arms. “You’ve been so good and patient, Davis. I love that you’d wait for me. I – love – everything I know about you, and I’m sure I’ll love the things I don’t know yet.”

His brown eyes were hypnotic, sweet and melting with a spark of slow burning heat. He would send her flowers and do this right, but Chloe didn’t need the trappings. She felt the rightness, warm and wet between her legs and pounding in her heart. She dug her fingers into the fine silk of her dress, wrenching at it uselessly. They needed to be naked on each other.

“You’ve just made a really big decision,” he said softly. His hand kneaded in her hair as if he believed she must have a headache to soothe. “You know I love you –“

“Yes, I do know. We’ve done the talking and it got us here, but I’m flying in my head,” Chloe told him. “I’m feverish and crazy and the only thing to do is rip me out of this dress and get on top of me. Please.”

Davis blinked hard, his mouth parted while they breathed closely. His hands drew out from her hair and brushed down her arms. He took her hands and held them, but his body pushed nearer in a telling move. He was pouring out heat. Want was never the question.

“You might regret me, once you hear it all,” he told her seriously, slowly massaging her fingers in his own. There was an engagement ring on one that needed to be sent back to Jimmy, but he wasn’t going to collapse in guilt over it. The timing was wrong for their meeting, but finding Chloe had been right.

“Don’t wuss out on me, Davis,” she teased. “I can guarantee you will regret me on a regular basis. You will look to the sky and pray to whatever will listen to stop me from being who I am in the particular way that’s bugging you. If it didn’t bother you sometimes, we’ll have mistaken our feelings. If we can’t be brave today – on my busted up wedding day – we need to rethink.”

He couldn’t think, wouldn’t allow anything to be wrong about having Chloe in his apartment and halfway to his bed. Inside his fantasies, this had gone on a million ways and not one of them had involved sitting her down for a serious talk about a new five-year plan. He wanted to be a good guy, not a saint.

“That dress had to be expensive,” Davis said. “I don’t even know how to get you out of there.”

He prided himself on not leering as her breasts rose in the low neckline, swelling against the ornate fabric. The soft press of curves to his chest was going to the top of his list of favourite memories, though. Chloe stepped up, tilted on heels that must be killing her.

“Rip it up,” she said, lips held in a wavering smile. “It’s a part of a bigger lie, tying me up. I don’t want to be trapped anymore. I want you to tear it away and fuck me in the shreds of the stupid thing I nearly did with myself.”

His hands ran up her shoulders, around the back. Davis pinched the two sides of the dress and yanked. The zipper gave with a metallic scream; the rest of the fussy structure was falling on itself. Beads and crystals were dropping in a glittery mess to his rug, and he paused at the lingerie lovingly cupping Chloe’s luscious breasts. She poked his side and pushed the fabric down, sighing as it caught on the end of the ruined zipper. Davis gave up on the top and worked his way through the layers of skirt, tearing slits up as far as he could. The decorated middle of the dress was resisting, and he jostled her body as he fisted both hands in the sharp sequins.

Chloe laughed, deep and throaty as more of her body was bared. He kept ripping through the pretty purple silk underneath. Giving up on complete nudity, he yanked the fabric off her pussy and spread her with his fingers. Davis was down on his knees, pulling her thighs forward to him as he tasted warm moisture. He stood up so fast she wobbled, but he was catching her under her ass. He seemed to have more than two hands – too fast to be human hands, at least. She was aloft, long scraps of white rustling, then she was down.

Davis got them to the bed, just barely. He even talked himself out of the single massive thrust that his cock was aching to do. He eased in, sensing acceptance and a little bit of discomfort. He had known Jimmy couldn’t be as big. Psychology alone would have prevented it.

Somehow her nervous breathing told him as much as moans and screams. Chloe told him when his light, steady, polite thrusts were too soft. She grabbed the back of his neck to keep his weight down hard on her body. She pushed bits of skirt out of his way and tore the top of her teddy down until he could lap and nip at her breasts.

“Yes, Davis, good-hard, fuck,” she mumbled, lips blurring in words so low he couldn’t pick out their meaning. “Knew it-“

He wanted to understand what she was telling him – it had to be important to gasp it out with his pushes emptying her lungs forcibly. Chloe’s fingers were pinching and goading, her inner muscles riding him in a pattern he couldn’t map with his sanity. There was the break, coming for both of them. When they both lost all semblance of rational thought, he would comprehend all of it.

She cried out his name as her pussy milked him of any uncertainty, and Chloe proved stronger than he’d imagined. As he jerked and hissed, she steadied him. She watched his face and could tell just from that what he needed to keep himself from collapsing.

“Knew what,” Davis asked a little later. He still had to peel her out of the ruined wedding dress, and had a feeling his work with accident victims would come in handy. In a pinch, he was quick and careful with a pair of shears.

“Knew you,” she mumbled happily. “I looked at you and I knew who you were before you said your name. Something changed inside me, and it was permanent.”

His hand moved from cupping her breast to tracing softly over her heart. “That makes the two of us,” he whispered.

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

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.

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.

unbound

Reccing Notes: I lay the blame for this one squarely on nonky. She encouraged me to post werewolf!au!Davis, so I did. I wouldn't have had the courage to post it if not for her. So, take the scholarly, half-in love Chloe from Prey and transport her back some three thousand years. Bring in a bloody attack on hundreds of people and a blood-covered, amber-eyed Davis on a full moon. She is supposed to shoot him through the throat with a silver arrow. She's not giving up that easily.

by vagrantdream at her/my livejournal

2200 words, nc-17, prey-ish au

He was far stronger than she was, and the only other thing she could do was try and hold him down if he actually went into lupine seizures.

You do not need to know how the werewolf came to be. You do not need to pity him. You see his amber eyes and loose an arrow into his throat.
He would rend you. Your blood would spill in a steady pool over the ruff of the dead and he would lap at it. Your compassion would not matter then. In your death, for the barest moment, his eyes would be human again.
-Book Of The Huntress

Chloe found Davis in an enemy camp, the only survivor of a ghastly attack that had left the tents empty and thick with the reek of blood. His skin had been matted all over with flakes of it. Then, dazed and half-alive, he’d taken an arrow in the back for her, a complete stranger. He could have been someone saving lives, as easily as he could have been a werewolf but then he’d healed immediately.
She’d looped an arm over his shoulder; she’d seen the amber in his eyes, soft and wondering. An arrow into the throat would have freed him. She couldn’t shoot.

She vouched for him while twisting Kal’s arm behind his back. You brought him; you take care of him, Chloe. Which lead her to this. Davis was curled up outside her tent, wary amber eyes on the waxing moon. I’m going to change. He was convinced. She was convinced he wouldn’t be one of those soulless creatures tore the throats out of feeble farmers. That’s how they returned to themselves, according to legend, crippled muddy hind quarters and wolf-like man parts.

Chloe settled herself the mud splattered grass, eventually gleaned the courage to reach out to him and catch one off the shivers off him. She wrapped her arms over his shoulders and the scratchy blanket over him. “I don’t care if you’re a unicorn. Get in with me.”

“I can’t, Chloe.” Davis was shivering. He was heavier than her meager size too, and it didn’t matter how many leather straps she had, she wasn’t going to bind his arms with a leather breast-band.
He thought he was guilty, the archer wanted to shoot him through the throat, Kal would go with it. The entire camp thought she was getting her throat ripped out tonight. He didn’t even believe in himself. That left her, ever the optimist.

“Please, Davis.” She settled for whispering at him. “If were even going to try to save your life, I need someone to trust me.” Wiping a messy, stray hand through his hair.

When he clambered inside her tent it was a whole lot more crowded than she would have liked. He was not as big a man as Kal, but some off her scrolls jumbled against his arm.
“You wrote all this?” He ran a finger over the old paper in wonder she hadn’t seen from anyone but the young ones, for so long. He probably didn’t understand what the symbols meant, but she scarcely had the composure to say yes.

The sleeping pelt was more than a few thick wolf skins sewn together, thick and heavy. At least it didn’t have fleas. Chloe struggled with it, acutely aware of the darkness and the dangerous shift of his brown eyes over her mouth, the flap closed from the moon now. It was done. Thick fur was warm over parts of her back the straps missed and he’d been out in the rain. Her arms locked over him. Should she lay down over him, next to him, behind him? There was body heat to think of too.

She settled for curling into his shoulder; cool but strong, a strange forbidden comfort in the thick trappings of her hunting clothes, suddenly something very wrong about the confines of them. Davis nuzzled his face against hers, whispered thank you, didn’t turn away. Perhaps, wolves were clingy sleepers. Her skin felt raw, prickling with something wanting to tear its way out. Chloe knew what this was. She’d wanted Kal once, but it wasn’t like this. The thought occurred to her that they must have thought she’d taken him for a mate, out there.

“I like you a lot.” She whispered, barely audible. It didn’t take very much more then, breath mingling across his deeper one, the press of his mouth unfurling the breath in her. She might not have minded if his eyes were amber. She was half-caught under him, his tongue sliding against her mouth. Her nails caught against the pelt. Davis caught fingers into the end of her hair when he stopped and she found herself strangely lost.

“I can’t let you be hurt.” he said. “If it starts, I’ll wake you.” He pressed the bolt of her arrow in her hand. Dead center.
She gave a short, soft sigh and rolled onto her back. “I think my chastity is safe with you, too.”

“It’s happening.”
When Davis woke her his breaths were thick and uneven. It must have been midnight. Her eyes hadn’t yet adjusted to the dark and in a panic she slid her hands to his chest. Human skin, there, a prickle of hair but that was not abnormal. The only thing abnormal about this was his perfectly warm body attempting to tug the flap of her tent open. For a moment, her waking thoughts reasserted themselves. If he went out, he wouldn’t come back alive. If he stayed…

The confines of the tent shook and trembled with whatever had taken him over. Something roared its way out of his throat, wracked him with small volcanic shudders.

“Stop that.”
Davis was too far panicked to listen now, fingers pushing the arrow into the bolt, hands shaking so much that the first one nicked him. He was far stronger than she was, and the only other thing she could do was try and hold him down if he actually went into lupine seizures.

She tried to grab the next one, a small scratch across her knuckles as she broke the shaft... He could smell the miniscule drops of her blood. Now. Too late.

Chloe fell hard on him, suddenly furious at him and this thing in him. Why was it always the ones she liked? She was the kiss of death. She pressed her hand hard into his wracked cheekbone, a pitiful drop of blood smearing across it. She saw bits of pieces of her, only bone and torn tissues and blood pooling on the furs and his eyes brown again. What big eyes you have. He was stunned enough for her to run, and then they’d shoot him. She’d hesitated too long.

His teeth took firm hold of her wrist, stinging sharply enough to make her lose her balance. One rough hand swiped across his face, blood against his teeth. She groped in the dark for some semblance of Davis’s face; found his hair was a little thicker. Maybe… His nose nudged at the hollow of her throat again and he growled lowly, almost like a prized pet. The frequency of it sent a pleasant tingle all the way to the pit of her stomach. That was it; she had to pet him all night?

She reached up explorative fingers to his neck, half relieved not to find a massive crest there. He had that curious mark on his neck still that told her he was a man, not… He touched them with his lips, a quintessential human motion. His eyes were Davis’s eyes, perhaps not entirely, just rippling under the surface.

“I’m cold.” She didn’t know if he could understand. His eyes watched her curiously as she gathered the warmth of a skin much like his over her. If he changed into that, the sight of the dead reminders didn’t make him lose hold of his tenuous grip. He even let it settle on him, not for long before flipping over, warm against her back. She had a functional uniform for hunting, but the straps were digging into her shoulders. She felt two press hard, chafe against her breasts before snapping. Chloe braced her knees on the ground, anticipating the smallest touch. Maybe this was his way of returning the favor. She didn’t feel it yet, nothing but the warm weight of him against her back. This was how animals copulated.
Maybe…

Chloe hissed out a breath at the hard, uncontrolled press of lips against her neck. The last one was gone. She felt him at last, gentle probing fingers, the slow coaxing of an alien feeling inside her body. Chloe had heard enough about women or men who spread their legs in stories around the camp fire, and when they chose to do it. Lois pounded a hand over the backs of those green enough to cough up their grog. If this was all then… Davis stopped, and then it was different, more. He licked his hand, her mouth and when he started again his touch and the wet sliding sounds of it left her voice too raw to scream.

Her head forced itself back when he jerked into her. Blunt and sharp and a hundred things she couldn’t name. She felt skin tearing. Davis took his hands away and wrapped his arms around her, panted soft, crooning syllables into her ear. Chloe scratched at his arms in the fury of it. He didn’t stop, slower, not painfully blunt now, sliding deep enough into her that she needed more, more until she tore to pieces. It felt as if her throat had been torn out long ago.

It was not unlike death. There was the fight of it, grinding up against him in an ecstasy of adrenaline and conflict, the pained death rattle as her head arched and rubbed into his shoulder. There was surrender when his voice broke-a ragged, ebbing howl and he seemed to tense up inside. She looked back at him- saw his eyes for glancing seconds. Vaguely, her mind registered that the color of them was dark shifting through her vision. She moved to him and the weight of him was thick. Chloe came in sobbing, jerking gasps with him between her legs, arms around her, thoughts swept along a frenzy of heated pleasure.

Chloe felt the blood pounding behind her eyelids. Felt herself slump onto her elbows, spent as he retreated. Her scalp prickled, hair tugged between his teeth. Her eyes slid shut-struggled open. She tried to loosen his grip so she could roll over, get warmer. She ended up winding her arms around him. His eyes were half-comprehending, careful. His skin burned to touch. She pulled the pelt back with mercifully slow fingers. It was as it should have been. Only, her blood trickled down her thigh, dyed brown fur crisp and red. Blood like from a woman’s menses… She scrabbled back. Surely, she wasn’t...

Werewolves picked up the trail of blood. He was going to follow. She lifted her hands to stop him, only shoved him once. He wasn’t aggressive, nose nuzzling into her skin, tongue rough and warm and licking it away. Desire burned through her like it couldn’t have if she was broken.
When Chloe finally drifted off- warm skin tickling at her nose, thick furs wound awkwardly over her back and hands on his skin, the vague blood-smell was still in the air.

The sunlight streamed over Davis’s half-closed brown eyes. “I told you. “ She said, no need to say anything more. This time, she felt like she’d mattered. Davis crawled until his arms were around her shoulders, no fur, no huge teeth, sweat slicking their skin together as he hugged her tight. He slid a hand over her mouth, as if to check to see if she was intact. A chaste touch. He had to remember.

“We are all clear up there?” she asked finally. Her heartbeat still felt like it had been jolted from miles of headlong flight. No virgin left to set herself up as a sacrifice. She was dressed in little more than her own skin.

“More than bits and snatches. We-”
His breath hung in the air, a question. He was half-horrified that this had been something beyond the pale and ultimately destructive to them both.

“You’re important to me. I didn’t get to say how much I liked you enough.” Chloe kissed his mouth, hand groping his face in the light. His fingers caught hers, traced their intertwined hands across it, so human it made her ache. He looked at her, and in some bizarre, beautiful way she was not found wanting. “I’m not going to be without this, whatever form you take.” She whispered, half-breathless at his slow, fascinated proximity. “We can stay. You think?”

She shifted her weight back as his hand stroked lightly across the curve of her thigh, inwards, intimate as a kiss. This time it would be just them, no leftover adrenaline, no alter egos.

“I think you’re everything.” That was her first time for that too.
Chloe watched his face shift from gentleness to hot tension as he slid into her. She was already wet, but what did he expect?
“Tell me-tell me-“ Later. All later.

Davis’s eyes burned into her and she could not be afraid anymore. She’d died for a moment, lost control and found she could hold her weight after all. Davis was a good man, her man now; she expected the campfire gossip to say. And- this-this was what happened when she lived again.

insensible visitors with oral fixations

Reccing Notes: I introduce you to your very first post-eternal zombiesmut! I teased nonky into writing this, she teased me into writing davis-as-a-werewolf-smut. I think I won most because her writing it just that good. Chloe is feeling empty and bloody-handed after Davis dies in Eternal, and guess where he-goes, half-alive, after digging his way out of his grave?

by nonky at her livejournal

3853 words, nc-17, eternal

His flat palm patted along her hair, as if his fingers weren't working to rifle through and mess it up. She gathered a small bundle and he leaned in to take it in his lips, drawing it along and slightly into his mouth. His nose mushed into her jaw and he gasped quietly.


If Chloe hadn't been feeling so numb, she would have thought before moving to cease the knocking at her office door.

She wouldn't have answered a violently panicked pounding. It was late and she was in no shape to deal with a crisis. She was alone, Clark was keeping well clear of her bloody hands, and she was wallowing in the knowledge that she had looked Davis in the eye as his soul left his body. Danger to herself didn't even strike her emotions with any resonance. Attackers didn't knock on unlocked doors.

Later, much later, she would admit she was probably asking for a punishment to find her. Since Davis Bloome met her, he'd put his job on the line because she asked, then forgiven Jimmy kidnapping and trying to kill him. He was nothing but a sweet, supportive, respectful man who was driven to help people. The monster wasn't real to her. Davis was real, and she had killed him to protect a friend who couldn't look at her anymore.

She loved Clark, but Krypton could go to hell. That dead rock had ruined so many days of her life, and she was barely a freak. Every new discovery told her the Kryptonians didn't care they were exporting their problems to Earth and an unsuspecting race with less advanced technology. Her home had become the battleground for a world that no longer existed.

The anger made her rough as she opened the door, then left her entirely. Chloe felt her shoes slip backward as Davis wrapped her in his arms. She held on while he pressed his weight down and shuffled clumsily closer. She shut her eyes and tried not to think about how it had to be a dream. He was hurting her a little bit with the press of his arms directly over her shoulders, so she swayed them to get some relief. He smelled the same, and there was no horrific coating of blood or liquid kryptonite on his clothing.

Just believe it for a few minutes, she told herself. Just take it and soak it in. I know he's lost, I know I lost him, but I don't have to know it when I'm asleep.

Davis' cool dry skin didn't feel dead against her cheek, and Chloe tilted her chin back like it was muscle memory. His palm covered most of that side of her face. She had a flicker - The Beast crouched in front of her as she wept, entreating her, trying as best it could to comfort before it picked her up.

"Chloeeee," he growled, but it was a man-growl from a rusty human voice.

She met his eyes and saw the tiniest response in them. He was there, somewhere deep and probably not crawled out of his grave yet. She had killed him, and she would find him, too.

"It's me, Davis. I'm here. I'm glad to see you." So obscenely glad; she was falling into this hard.

Everyone else came back from the dead, so why not the cute paramedic who was destined to kill Clark? She didn't recall going to sleep, or even sitting down. Her body ached with the long night and she knew herself to be alert. She was holding Davis and stretching up to reach him was pulling the middle of her back. Every other hug from him had been glorious with comfort and warmth. This was a big, complicated feeling but not altogether pleasant.

Chloe found that if she moved herself with inching steps back, he would follow. She pulled him into the office and kicked the door shut. This time she locked it. Her hand returned to feel along Davis' side. It rose and fell with breathing. He made noises and gave every indication of being alive. She didn't think she'd gone this crazy, so she started to plan what a reasonably sane person would do in her situation.

“Davis? Can we sit down,” she asked him, waving toward the too-pink sofa. “My neck can't keep this up forever.”

She kept inching them around the furniture, and he let her push him down to the sofa. Both of his big, capable hands latched on to her wrist and Chloe smiled. “No, I'm not leaving. Just let me get to my laptop and I'll come back with you.”

He was looking up at her with a serious, helpless expression. She dropped down next to him and he let go of her hand. Chloe moved it over to his leg and rubbed his knee. There was no denying she was traumatized, but what he'd been through was worse.

“Does it hurt?”

His brow furrowed, his eyes narrowing as if in great effort, but eventually Davis nodded. He took her hand from his knee and brought it up to his chest. He touched her fingertips to his chest and lowered his hand, leaving her the choice of moving her own away. Chloe spread her fingers and looked into his brown eyes. His heart was beating strong despite her betrayal.

There was a sudden wave of heat rising up her face, then she was crying on him, making whining sounds and shaking. Davis cuddled her and he was the one to rock them this time. He was silent, but she could feel him wanting her to be comforted. He pried her away from his wet shirt and his lips curved gently on her eyelids. He lapped and kissed her tears away, and she was so fascinated by it Chloe forgot she was crying at all.

His flat palm patted along her hair, as if his fingers weren't working to rifle through and mess it up. She gathered a small bundle and he leaned in to take it in his lips, drawing it along and slightly into his mouth. His nose mushed into her jaw and he gasped quietly. She absorbed the quiet and wondered how he could feel so big and masculine, but also like a favourite puppy in her arms. She just wanted his eyes to light up like before, and know he would be okay.

Davis stood suddenly with his arms clamped around her waist. She gulped as he turned them around, fumbling a bit as he fit her on her back on the sofa. He held her down with one hand while he climbed up next to her. His hip fit next to her, but he had to put a lot of his weight on her belly. Davis let her wiggle around for a minute until the pressure was evenly distributed. He ran an arm under her neck like a pillow.

It was inevitable that she would go to sleep that way. Davis had made them both surprisingly comfortable and he was purring in his throat to the tune of something she'd heard on the radio a few times. He felt like safety. She had long ago decided to ignore information taken from movies about monsters and freaks. There was no legitimate reason why a person who had miraculously survived, or even been reanimated, would crave human flesh or be at all dangerous. The worst effect of Davis in his present state was that she'd have to condition her hair to make up for the way he was holding strands of it in his mouth to gnaw between his lips.

She turned her head toward him and felt him kiss the bridge of her nose. Chloe went to sleep with a smile.


Sunlight woke her, and forced Chloe to admit she was really entangled with a Davis who couldn't seem to speak or think beyond the instinctive tactile compulsion they had always denied between them. She poked him until he got up and offered his hand to help her.

Still a gentleman, even after you kill him, she thought absurdly.

There was a small fridge in her inner office, and Chloe took him by the hand to lead the way to scavenge something for him There was no handbook for coming back to life, but common sense was always useful. He liked warmth; to be touched and talked to. He knew her and was able to recognize simple instructions. Rest had made his shaking abate.

He was just a grown-up Kryptonian man who had had a few rough days, and she had played this out with Clark more than once. She packed the meagre breakfast into her purse and locked up behind them. Davis followed her up the stairs slowly, having to watch his feet a few times, but he made it without falling.

Chloe sat Davis on the low lounger someone from another office had brought up. The roof was shared, though she was the only one who spent such long hours in the building. It used to be Isis that made her so late to leave for home, but now it was an emotional need to be away from her former home with Jimmy. She sank down on her knees in front of Davis and looked at the horizon. The sun was coming up, and if Davis was anything like Clark, he'd soak up the radiation and recover.

He gripped her hand as she stood, but Chloe shushed him gently. It had been a long night, nearly pinned by his weight as he chewed on her hair and mumbled words that weren't English if they were words at all. She towed her purse over by the handle, taking a bottle of orange juice and a shrink-wrapped pack of beef jerky out. It wasn't going to do much for him physically, but the normal motions and sensations of eating would bring him back to himself. She showed him both, and he took them out of her hands to lay them aside.

"Davis," she complained, but smiled. His hands were working much better after a few hours of practice groping her hair and clothes. Each finger moved independently and with the steadiness she expected from such a good paramedic. He even curved his mouth into a tiny smile as he gave an apologetic little shrug.

He pulled her down to sit with him, nuzzling her face as he kissed her mouth. Chloe found nothing lacking in it, all the passion and self he had thrown at her unexpectedly was present in the sweet toying of his tongue. He even cupped her face the same and pulled back with a twinkle in his eyes.

"You're feeling better. I'm glad," she told him. "But we're not up here for that. The sun should help you."

He immediately leaned away to strip off his sweater and t-shirt. Davis gave a brief shiver as the cool morning hit his skin, and she relented. Holding him, Chloe ran her hands over his back. He snuggled in and proceeded to grope her thighs.

"How are you making horny zombie come-ons charming," she wondered out loud. He made a small, strangely spaced exhale she realized was the tiniest laugh.

If he wasn't so cold she might have indulged him, but his skin was freezing. All moisture seemed to have leeched out, and it made painfully harsh scrubbing sounds just from being touched. Chloe nudged him back and opened the juice. He took it with a hint of irony. "No, it's not the cure, but you need fluids. I don't have an IV kit around, Mr. Paramedic."

She watched him as he drank it cautiously, obviously having trouble swallowing the first few times. As the juice wet his throat, she could see the minute flinches stop. Davis reached for the beef jerky himself, and opened it eagerly. He had to do a lot of chewing, but he ate it all and politely tucked the wrapper in his pocket.

“Okay,” she told him sternly. “If you've come around enough not to litter, you should be able to talk to me, now.”

His look was more layered than any zombie should be able to convey, a kind of rueful admiration for her demand but no attempt to answer. Davis tipped his head back and sighed deeply. The sunlight made his pale skin glow softly. Chloe couldn't help but smile as she watched him shift the muscles in his back. He stretched and curled up and unfurled like a big cat. His eyes remained shut when she reached behind his head and kneaded the back of his skull. Chloe's lap was instantly full of Davis, his upper body yearning to her.

“Your back is twitching like crazy. Here, let me see if I can get that calmed down.” She touched a cramping spot and he took a deep breath. Chloe felt around the spot with her fingers, knowing he was tense with agony. “I'm sorry.”

Davis gave a little huff of air that sounded like a dismissal of her apology. She tried another part of his back and the tightness under her fingertips told her it was torturous. Her hands would only make things worse and spread the cramping around. She stood up and moved around to the other side of the lounger. Davis followed her with his eyes, finally turning his head forward as Chloe sat cross-legged behind him. She licked her lips and pressed them gently on the back of his shoulder.

Sometimes Davis had looked at her with bottomless need, and she'd known anything she wanted to do to him would be welcome. Before she'd killed him, Chloe had been flattered. She ran her palms over her own knees to dry up nervous sweat. They reached around his waist and held each other. He relaxed into the possessive action and tipped his chin to his chest. Davis was terrifying in surrender.

Her tongue came out to lap gingerly on the cramping muscles. She ran it upward with a solid stroke, letting the skin get warm and wet. They were swaying together, his willing slump a tribute to his trust. Chloe pushed the thoughts out of her way and kept finding those angry knots of tension. The flat of her tongue worked out most of them, and the others loosened under her knuckles. She ran out of problem areas and just admitted to herself that she was enjoying it. Giving a tongue bath to an undead Davis Bloome was the best thing that had happened to her in years.

Her arms around him moved up his chest and hugged him back to her body. He was damp and heated from her mouth, soaking out the blouse that was wrinkled from sleeping in it. Chloe rose to her knees and licked the back of his neck, following the tendons to his ear. Davis moved faster than he could have a half hour before, breaking her hold around his waist and slipping out of the rest of his clothes.

Metropolis was still in the quiet mode of very early morning, but Davis' pale buttocks flexing as he stripped felt like a beacon. She watched him and waited for him to turn. He stretched to the sun, reached up for it like his fingers could close around it and take the energy more directly. For someone so white-skinned, the sun suited him. He turned and smiled at her with more than a hint of flirtation. His cock stood firm against his belly.

“Thank you,” Davis told her softly. He pulled her to her feet, watched her struggle for even a stupid reply. Chloe's legs shuffled awkwardly together and he opened her shirt with more dexterity than she had with the silly pearl buttons.

“I'm glad,” she blurted out, tears in her eyes. “I'm glad it didn't work. I didn't want you to die.”

His soft, senstive mouth could make all the distinct shapes of quiet, considerate emotions. It curved down into a frown of sympathy. Davis didn't think of himself, she'd suspected. He only thought of how his problems could hurt other people. He wasn't sad for his continued suffering but for her suffering over his death.

“It means more that you were willing to try, because you didn't want it to happen,” he explained. “I didn't want to die, either, not when you put your hand up to mine. Maybe it's all my own fault for changing my mind.”

Warm palms parted her blouse and pushed it away. Chloe shrugged out of it and kicked her shoes off. She couldn't stop staring into his eyes now that they were sending out those conflicting waves of warmth and caution. She hauled her pants off and pressed on him. Panties didn't keep her from getting the whole heat of his arousal. She bent her arms around and unclasped her bra. The morning would be bright and warm enough if they were touching.

Davis was down on his knees in front of her, fingers down the sides of her panties. He pulled at them and they eased away with the last of her reservations. It was so clear that all of their meetings came to this moment. It was so easy between them because it was supposed to happen.

He looked up at her as she stepped out of the last of her clothing. Davis was glowing with desire and she squeezed with her thighs until the dizzy thrill of it faded back to an ache. His face moved between her legs and his tongue slicked along the curls there. He pulled them straight and crunched them between his teeth gently, being careful not to pull.

“Chloe, I won't be . . .” He trailed off and stood up, digging two fingers up into her and pumping them. She held on to his arms and quivered. Her body swept in to tease up along his front, and Davis gritted his teeth. “This first time I won't be able to wait for you. I'm sorry.”

She honestly didn't care, cared even less when he used his massive strength to pick her up and lower her to the lounger like some kind of museum piece. It was one thing to be picked up and saved, and another visceral coiling to feel cherished by it. Chloe opened herself as wide as he needed, trying to help as he settled between her legs and lined up. She looked up at him, surrounded by a mellow glow of sunlight – alive.

“I love you,” she smiled.

He was nearly gone before he got inside. She cried out at the shock of the sudden penetration, but she was ready. Davis made her even wetter as he stiffened and came hard. He grunted her name and started a slow, even rhythm. Chloe stroked his back and enjoyed the hard feeling of him filling her. She knew he was going to go soft and it wouldn't be enough time for her.

The closeness was nice, and he would make it up to her on another day. He had just come back from the dead, and she'd heard worse excuses for disappointing her sexually.

“Davis, it's okay, we're okay,” she told him after a few minutes. He was still hard, but that had to be fading fast. Her legs slid up in an embrace along with her arms. “It's okay.”

“We could be better,” he said deeply, his voice holding a joking lilt. “Close your eyes and feel the sun, Chloe. We'll come together this time.”

He sounded assured of himself, and so matter of fact. She realized she'd been forgettting again that he was Kryptonian. Not only was he very strong, his endurance was amazing. He wasn't still hard, he was hard again. She chuckled to herself and relaxed back into the cushion. Davis' hand slid under her neck and picked her up. He kissed her smoothly, his tongue lightly flavoured like juice. They breathed in sync. Her hands found his shoulder blades and clung to them like handholds on a mountain. He was big above her, mostly off her skin but close enough to heat the parts that weren't getting any sun. Every thrust sent bursts of pleasure sparking along her abdomen and up her chest.

“That's good,” she mumbled. “Really good.”

“Gets better, soon.”

He lowered her down and came down on her himself, letting his weight touch her all over. Her breasts crushed as her nipples dragged with raw friction. Davis's mouth was on her neck, catching her hair in it, too, in a way that didn't seem like an accident. He chewed on her skin through the curtain of hair, and she turned her head to help. Her feet braced and he cupped her hips.

“Davis!” Twelve hours ago she had been sobbing on the floor, watching as Oliver's men carried away his body. His body now was so completely engrossing there was no resemblance. Davis moved in her, pulling all the way out and shoving hard past the instinctive clench of her body. He was leaving marks on her hips and forcing her muscles into the kind of orgasm that was nearly painful. She opened her eyes to a stellar view of his rapt expression, a flare of morning light bleaching all details about the sky behind him.

Chloe was so hot, so restless. She bit her lip and it wasn't enough. Her nails dug in. She kicked at his legs and pounded her hips up to meet him as he came down into her. She kissed him and made loud, muffled noises of effort. Her wet hair flicked over her face and Davis nudged it off with his nose. He was looked at her, gazing deeply from brown eyes that she'd given up on ever having gaze at her again.

“Go on, Chloe, go,” he urged her.

The pinch to her clit happened at the same time as the nip on her chin and bruising grip on her ass. The unleashing of force everywhere dazzled her for a long, loud shout, then brought it all back to her center. Davis was pulsing come down into her again, and she let herself enjoy the hot recklessness of it. His head tossed as he jerked in her arms. She clamped her legs around him and kept him there, basking in the heat of Davis and the sun that was recharging him.

“You're alive,” Chloe whispered with awe, once her voice was back.

“More than ever,” he confirmed in a peaceful tone. “Did you mean what you said”

Her mouth went dry, and he pulled out to let her drink some juice. Chloe nodded uncertainly, “I did. I don't understand how you can love me, now, but there's no point in taking back something that's true.”

Davis reached out as if to hug her, but he held her chin for a punishing bite to her lip. She wrinkled her nose at him and rubbed at her pout. “Don't understand it. Just know it. Love was never meant to make sense. I came back because I love you. I don't know how it works. I don't really care.”

She didn't care either. They curled up under the sun and listened to the parking lots nearby fill with cars and people. His fingers wrapped themselves in her hair and lifted it gently to slide the golden strands along his lips.

By the morning cigarette breaks, Chloe and Davis escaped to her car and left the roof to her neighbours.