I like this 'ship! It's exciting!
Apr. 25th, 2009 12:33 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
seriousficI've noticed a trend recently of whenever I write a Chloe/Davis comedy piece, someone in the comments always asks for a hot sex scene. It's natural, I suppose... it's shipfic, so there's always references being made to the really great (or as it relates to Lana, disgustingly vile) sex going on, but since it's really hard to make hardcore sex both erotic and funny -- really, try it sometime -- all the consummation is left 'off-camera'.
So, just to set your minds at ease, next Chloomsday has the dirtybagwrong sex hook-up. And no, it's not basement porn. More... wall porn. So now you can stop worrying about all the sex they're not having and wait for the weekday to read your porn, since no one reads fanfic on the weekend.
And now, what you all came here for... hardcore nudity!
She had the fantasy, though. Another part of her life Davis had corrupted, fulfilled. Clark was a distant memory in her fantasy life. In her mind, she saw Davis after he’d killed that man in her defense. He was painted with blood, chest heaving, body knotted up with unspent energy. His nudity wasn’t overtly sexual, not with how he’d been so tender in examining the cut on her throat, banging it before he’d even thought to put clothes on. She’d reciprocated, wiping at the dried blood covering him. First his face, washing away the splash of blood on one side, making the two halves match. Then over the neck, restoring his throat to peaceful softness, her washcloth kneading between his neck and shoulder, then running over the nape of his neck, forcing them into an almost embrace.
The nearness of him was almost overwhelming. She could reach out and touch him, any part of him, and he wouldn’t say he only had feelings for her as a friend, wouldn’t see her as a replacement for Lana or Lois or any of those shiny people with their lives in perfect order. She could touch him and he would touch her, gratefully, worshipfully, with eyes that looked at her like an angel instead of someone belonging to the mud and the filth.
And in her fantasy, she did, and he did. Her breasts rubbed against his chest as she got closer to him, than his erection brushed her leg. She ran the washcloth down his shoulder blades as their bodies met, then the small of his back, the base of his spine, and then his arms wrapped around her, big powerful arms. He could overpower her if he wanted to, but she knew without a shadow of a doubt that he never would.
“Chloe.” In the dream, he whispered her name in the same mix of awe and love that he’d used when she’d first showed him her power, the first time she’d felt like her power was a gift instead of something she had to live with.
Chloe stopped touching herself. Had she just heard the stairs creak? It was impossible, of course, she’d locked up for the night and ‘Watchtower’ had better security than even Lex Luthor’s old residence. Her clit throbbed painfully, demanding attention, and her back was covered in sweat and the football jersey she was wearing with no bra was scratchy, but if she could just come then she could put on something cleaner and go right to sleep. She returned to Davis, now not just rubbing at her panties but slipping her hand underneath and letting her fingers… oooh.
ETA: I need a Chloom icon. Maybe one of them kissing with the text "Watchtower is offline (for smooches)"? Yeah, that'd be boss.
So, just to set your minds at ease, next Chloomsday has the dirtybagwrong sex hook-up. And no, it's not basement porn. More... wall porn. So now you can stop worrying about all the sex they're not having and wait for the weekday to read your porn, since no one reads fanfic on the weekend.
And now, what you all came here for... hardcore nudity!
She had the fantasy, though. Another part of her life Davis had corrupted, fulfilled. Clark was a distant memory in her fantasy life. In her mind, she saw Davis after he’d killed that man in her defense. He was painted with blood, chest heaving, body knotted up with unspent energy. His nudity wasn’t overtly sexual, not with how he’d been so tender in examining the cut on her throat, banging it before he’d even thought to put clothes on. She’d reciprocated, wiping at the dried blood covering him. First his face, washing away the splash of blood on one side, making the two halves match. Then over the neck, restoring his throat to peaceful softness, her washcloth kneading between his neck and shoulder, then running over the nape of his neck, forcing them into an almost embrace.
The nearness of him was almost overwhelming. She could reach out and touch him, any part of him, and he wouldn’t say he only had feelings for her as a friend, wouldn’t see her as a replacement for Lana or Lois or any of those shiny people with their lives in perfect order. She could touch him and he would touch her, gratefully, worshipfully, with eyes that looked at her like an angel instead of someone belonging to the mud and the filth.
And in her fantasy, she did, and he did. Her breasts rubbed against his chest as she got closer to him, than his erection brushed her leg. She ran the washcloth down his shoulder blades as their bodies met, then the small of his back, the base of his spine, and then his arms wrapped around her, big powerful arms. He could overpower her if he wanted to, but she knew without a shadow of a doubt that he never would.
“Chloe.” In the dream, he whispered her name in the same mix of awe and love that he’d used when she’d first showed him her power, the first time she’d felt like her power was a gift instead of something she had to live with.
Chloe stopped touching herself. Had she just heard the stairs creak? It was impossible, of course, she’d locked up for the night and ‘Watchtower’ had better security than even Lex Luthor’s old residence. Her clit throbbed painfully, demanding attention, and her back was covered in sweat and the football jersey she was wearing with no bra was scratchy, but if she could just come then she could put on something cleaner and go right to sleep. She returned to Davis, now not just rubbing at her panties but slipping her hand underneath and letting her fingers… oooh.
ETA: I need a Chloom icon. Maybe one of them kissing with the text "Watchtower is offline (for smooches)"? Yeah, that'd be boss.
