Smallville fic: Happiness (Chloe/Davis)
Apr. 27th, 2009 06:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
seriousficTitle: Happiness
Fandom: Smallville
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2,010
Author’s Note: Spoilers for 8x19 - Stiletto
Characters/Pairings: Chloe/Davis
Summary: Chloe knows what Davis is. He’s a monster. A killer. The man she loves.
Chloe knew what Davis was. He was a monster. A killer. The man she loved. He was the white knight she had always thought Clark would be, funny and clever and passionate about her in a way that just didn’t happen in the real world. He would die for her. He would kill for her. And because of what he was and how this would end, she could never let him know she felt the same way.
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, bandaging 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.
“Davis.” In the dream she was suave, cool, she was Lois with more sex appeal. She was one of those superheroines that dropped by every once in a while, the ones that made the boys all “ooh” and other caveman noises. She was Desiree and Alicia and Kara and Dinah and Tess. She was Lana Lang with dirty wings. She was Chloe Sullivan, the Watchtower, and that was more than enough. She was pushing Davis down, his chest still shiny with water and dark with blood, and she was taking him in her mouth like, hey, Davis looked up, wondering how his dream girl could be so kinky, his face splitting with a big grin like he hadn’t gotten since he’d died, because hot damn was she good, and he tasted, ooh, what did guys taste like, she didn’t even fucking know beyond Jimmy and Davis tasted nothing like Jimmy, he tasted like iron, like the taste of blood in your mouth after you’ve taken a good hit, he’d saved her and the blood of the man he’d killed for her was dripping off his cock and that just made it more perfect, Davis threw his head back, “Chloe, oh Chloe, you’re the best, the best, the only”
The door opened. Chloe sat up, grabbing at her bedside drawer, she kept her taser in the bedside drawer, and even if it was just Clark asking for help on yet another fucking meteor freak she was going to tase him on general principle.
“It’s alright. It’s just me.” Davis’s dulcet tones made her clit scream, reminding her of how close she’d been when he’d interrupted her, and even just the sound of him padding toward her kept Chloe from catching her breath.
“Jesus, Davis, you nearly gave me a heart attack.” Chloe tried to wiggle under the covers as far as she could without being too obvious about it. How well could he see in the dark? “What are you doing here?”
“I felt your hunger,” Davis said in a faraway voice.
“You brought me breakfast in bed? Yay,” Chloe said with false cheer as Davis approached her bedside. He was naked except for the pair of Clark’s faded gray sweatpants she found him. The drawstring dangled over his crotch and the sweatpants were low on his waist, showing where his abs stopped and his pelvic region began.
Davis pulled the sheets off her body in one violent motion. In an instant, he saw it on, the crumpled sheets, the sweat dotting her legs, the oversized football jersey pushed up over her belly, the damp spot on the front of her panties.
Chloe reached for her sheets again and Davis grabbed her hand. With that addictive mix of terror and rightness, Chloe realized it was the hand she’d been masturbating with. Davis knelt down to eye level with her, as if in prayer, then he took her fingers one by one in his mouth, his teeth dragging over her knuckles.
He started with her thumb, as brief as a kiss, and then skipped to her pinky. He bestowed more attention on each, his dark eyes never leaving hers. Chloe felt like she’d been set on fire, the jersey no longer itchy but torturous, her panties rasping against her clit with every miniscule motion. He took the longest time with her middle finger, slowly taking it into his mouth, then his tongue running beneath her fingernail, then pulling away as if he would’ve been content to suckle at her hand forever. Then he kissed the back of her wrist, and Chloe wondered at the gentlemanly act until he kissed higher up on her forearm.
“Tell me to stop,” he said.
“What?”
He kissed closer to the elbow, then on the inside of her elbow, like a needle drawing blood. “I can’t tell myself to stop. I know… I know why we shouldn’t. But I can’t believe that matters. So you’ll have to tell me to stop. Because if I start, I don’t know if I’ll be able to control myself.”
She looked up and saw that he was trembling, his eyes frenzied with agitation, and realized how much of a strain it was just to give himself that much restraint. He kissed her upper arm, making the muscles tense, then onto her shoulder—
“Don’t stop,” she told him.
He kissed her neck. The bed groaned as he crawled in with her, over her, his closeness hitting her body like a spark hitting gasoline. Chloe put her hands on his chest, as if to push him away, and felt the mad, powerful beating of his heart, resonating like an anvil being struck by a hammer.
He kissed her jaw, her chin, the side of her lips. Her hands skirted the sides of his torso and locked on his back, pulling him against her in an ecstasy of meeting flesh, her lips colliding with his. Her doubts evaporated and she felt his body, she felt his body ease with relief, the potential violence still there, but thrumming quietly in the background. She knew he would’ve left, if she told him to. Thank God she hadn’t told him.
“In, in,” Chloe chanted, feeling his cock brush against her leg. Davis backed up, his mouth open in primal excitement, and pulled her panties off. Chloe watched them, white and dainty, as they traveled down her legs and then into open air. Davis attempted a reassuring smile, then took hold of his cock, guided it in. Release exploded from her body, arching her back and squeezing her eyes shut. Davis ran a hand from her neck down to her belly like he was feeling silk. Chloe opened her eyes, seeing him towering over her, with her at last.
“Hey.”
Davis perked his eyebrows and said “hey” back. Then he bent over her.
As he thrust into her with barely controlled passion, his mouth snatching at her jostling breasts, Chloe shook and tossed under him, hair getting in her eyes, fingers buried in her mattress pad. Finally she pushed back, their hips meeting, a moan forcing Chloe’s mouth open. She left it parted in a wide smile. “You’re holding back. Stop.”
“I can’t control—“
“You can. You will.” She wrapped her arms around his back, pulling him down on her. “You won’t hurt me. I trust you.”
He kissed her with a nervous, needing sort of energy. Then Chloe felt herself being lifted up and pressed against a wall. Davis was equally close, his skin slick against hers. He brushed the hair out of her eyes. “I love you.”
“We’ll make this work. I love you too.” She ran a hand through his hair. “God, you’re beautiful.”
Davis leaned forward until his forehead touched hers. “You’re amazing.” He kissed her quickly. “Amazing.” He kissed her again, quicker, as his hips began to ripple against her. “So special…”
Chloe giggled. God, they were actually doing it. She was fucking Davis Bloom, the Ultimate fucking Destroyer, and she couldn’t care less about Krypton or Brainiac or the Red-Blue Blur or any of the bullshit that had turned her life upside-down for the past decade. “Don’t need a running commentary.” Bracing her arms around his neck and lifting herself up, she forced his head between her breasts. “There. Isn’t that better?”
Davis began thrusting into her like a machine, which she took as a yes. She didn’t keep know how many minutes she spent like that, ridiculously, insanely not caring about the future, laughing as he pushed inside her, but eventually his animalistic grunting got louder, becoming almost a growl. He roared out his climax and Chloe joined him in a primal scream, a cathartic scream.
They made love for the rest of the night, slow and gentle, hard and fast, kissing as Davis’s hands traveled between her breasts and her sex, Davis looking at her from under mischievous eyebrows as he ate her out, giving him a blowjob and savoring that uniquely Davis taste that she never could’ve imagined. When they finally went to sleep, Chloe slept until noon. She woke to find Davis had made sandwiches and left one for her. She didn’t shower. She barely dressed. She liked reveling in the love bites marking her body. She probably would’ve christened the kitchen with him if there weren’t things to be said.
“I’m going to tell Clark. About us.”
Aside from a raised eyebrow, he controlled his reaction. “I feel like bragging too, but can’t you start with Lois? Or anyone?”
“He needs to know. Maybe if we work together, we can find a way to beat this thing. And then there’ll be nothing to stop us from being together, which would be good, because I don’t want to lose you. Ever.”
Davis tried to smile. He succeeded. “I don’t want to ever lose you either.”
And for the first time, Chloe started thinking she could be happy.
Fandom: Smallville
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2,010
Author’s Note: Spoilers for 8x19 - Stiletto
Characters/Pairings: Chloe/Davis
Summary: Chloe knows what Davis is. He’s a monster. A killer. The man she loves.
Chloe knew what Davis was. He was a monster. A killer. The man she loved. He was the white knight she had always thought Clark would be, funny and clever and passionate about her in a way that just didn’t happen in the real world. He would die for her. He would kill for her. And because of what he was and how this would end, she could never let him know she felt the same way.
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, bandaging 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.
“Davis.” In the dream she was suave, cool, she was Lois with more sex appeal. She was one of those superheroines that dropped by every once in a while, the ones that made the boys all “ooh” and other caveman noises. She was Desiree and Alicia and Kara and Dinah and Tess. She was Lana Lang with dirty wings. She was Chloe Sullivan, the Watchtower, and that was more than enough. She was pushing Davis down, his chest still shiny with water and dark with blood, and she was taking him in her mouth like, hey, Davis looked up, wondering how his dream girl could be so kinky, his face splitting with a big grin like he hadn’t gotten since he’d died, because hot damn was she good, and he tasted, ooh, what did guys taste like, she didn’t even fucking know beyond Jimmy and Davis tasted nothing like Jimmy, he tasted like iron, like the taste of blood in your mouth after you’ve taken a good hit, he’d saved her and the blood of the man he’d killed for her was dripping off his cock and that just made it more perfect, Davis threw his head back, “Chloe, oh Chloe, you’re the best, the best, the only”
The door opened. Chloe sat up, grabbing at her bedside drawer, she kept her taser in the bedside drawer, and even if it was just Clark asking for help on yet another fucking meteor freak she was going to tase him on general principle.
“It’s alright. It’s just me.” Davis’s dulcet tones made her clit scream, reminding her of how close she’d been when he’d interrupted her, and even just the sound of him padding toward her kept Chloe from catching her breath.
“Jesus, Davis, you nearly gave me a heart attack.” Chloe tried to wiggle under the covers as far as she could without being too obvious about it. How well could he see in the dark? “What are you doing here?”
“I felt your hunger,” Davis said in a faraway voice.
“You brought me breakfast in bed? Yay,” Chloe said with false cheer as Davis approached her bedside. He was naked except for the pair of Clark’s faded gray sweatpants she found him. The drawstring dangled over his crotch and the sweatpants were low on his waist, showing where his abs stopped and his pelvic region began.
Davis pulled the sheets off her body in one violent motion. In an instant, he saw it on, the crumpled sheets, the sweat dotting her legs, the oversized football jersey pushed up over her belly, the damp spot on the front of her panties.
Chloe reached for her sheets again and Davis grabbed her hand. With that addictive mix of terror and rightness, Chloe realized it was the hand she’d been masturbating with. Davis knelt down to eye level with her, as if in prayer, then he took her fingers one by one in his mouth, his teeth dragging over her knuckles.
He started with her thumb, as brief as a kiss, and then skipped to her pinky. He bestowed more attention on each, his dark eyes never leaving hers. Chloe felt like she’d been set on fire, the jersey no longer itchy but torturous, her panties rasping against her clit with every miniscule motion. He took the longest time with her middle finger, slowly taking it into his mouth, then his tongue running beneath her fingernail, then pulling away as if he would’ve been content to suckle at her hand forever. Then he kissed the back of her wrist, and Chloe wondered at the gentlemanly act until he kissed higher up on her forearm.
“Tell me to stop,” he said.
“What?”
He kissed closer to the elbow, then on the inside of her elbow, like a needle drawing blood. “I can’t tell myself to stop. I know… I know why we shouldn’t. But I can’t believe that matters. So you’ll have to tell me to stop. Because if I start, I don’t know if I’ll be able to control myself.”
She looked up and saw that he was trembling, his eyes frenzied with agitation, and realized how much of a strain it was just to give himself that much restraint. He kissed her upper arm, making the muscles tense, then onto her shoulder—
“Don’t stop,” she told him.
He kissed her neck. The bed groaned as he crawled in with her, over her, his closeness hitting her body like a spark hitting gasoline. Chloe put her hands on his chest, as if to push him away, and felt the mad, powerful beating of his heart, resonating like an anvil being struck by a hammer.
He kissed her jaw, her chin, the side of her lips. Her hands skirted the sides of his torso and locked on his back, pulling him against her in an ecstasy of meeting flesh, her lips colliding with his. Her doubts evaporated and she felt his body, she felt his body ease with relief, the potential violence still there, but thrumming quietly in the background. She knew he would’ve left, if she told him to. Thank God she hadn’t told him.
“In, in,” Chloe chanted, feeling his cock brush against her leg. Davis backed up, his mouth open in primal excitement, and pulled her panties off. Chloe watched them, white and dainty, as they traveled down her legs and then into open air. Davis attempted a reassuring smile, then took hold of his cock, guided it in. Release exploded from her body, arching her back and squeezing her eyes shut. Davis ran a hand from her neck down to her belly like he was feeling silk. Chloe opened her eyes, seeing him towering over her, with her at last.
“Hey.”
Davis perked his eyebrows and said “hey” back. Then he bent over her.
As he thrust into her with barely controlled passion, his mouth snatching at her jostling breasts, Chloe shook and tossed under him, hair getting in her eyes, fingers buried in her mattress pad. Finally she pushed back, their hips meeting, a moan forcing Chloe’s mouth open. She left it parted in a wide smile. “You’re holding back. Stop.”
“I can’t control—“
“You can. You will.” She wrapped her arms around his back, pulling him down on her. “You won’t hurt me. I trust you.”
He kissed her with a nervous, needing sort of energy. Then Chloe felt herself being lifted up and pressed against a wall. Davis was equally close, his skin slick against hers. He brushed the hair out of her eyes. “I love you.”
“We’ll make this work. I love you too.” She ran a hand through his hair. “God, you’re beautiful.”
Davis leaned forward until his forehead touched hers. “You’re amazing.” He kissed her quickly. “Amazing.” He kissed her again, quicker, as his hips began to ripple against her. “So special…”
Chloe giggled. God, they were actually doing it. She was fucking Davis Bloom, the Ultimate fucking Destroyer, and she couldn’t care less about Krypton or Brainiac or the Red-Blue Blur or any of the bullshit that had turned her life upside-down for the past decade. “Don’t need a running commentary.” Bracing her arms around his neck and lifting herself up, she forced his head between her breasts. “There. Isn’t that better?”
Davis began thrusting into her like a machine, which she took as a yes. She didn’t keep know how many minutes she spent like that, ridiculously, insanely not caring about the future, laughing as he pushed inside her, but eventually his animalistic grunting got louder, becoming almost a growl. He roared out his climax and Chloe joined him in a primal scream, a cathartic scream.
They made love for the rest of the night, slow and gentle, hard and fast, kissing as Davis’s hands traveled between her breasts and her sex, Davis looking at her from under mischievous eyebrows as he ate her out, giving him a blowjob and savoring that uniquely Davis taste that she never could’ve imagined. When they finally went to sleep, Chloe slept until noon. She woke to find Davis had made sandwiches and left one for her. She didn’t shower. She barely dressed. She liked reveling in the love bites marking her body. She probably would’ve christened the kitchen with him if there weren’t things to be said.
“I’m going to tell Clark. About us.”
Aside from a raised eyebrow, he controlled his reaction. “I feel like bragging too, but can’t you start with Lois? Or anyone?”
“He needs to know. Maybe if we work together, we can find a way to beat this thing. And then there’ll be nothing to stop us from being together, which would be good, because I don’t want to lose you. Ever.”
Davis tried to smile. He succeeded. “I don’t want to ever lose you either.”
And for the first time, Chloe started thinking she could be happy.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-04-28 03:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-29 03:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-28 03:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-28 07:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-28 07:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-28 04:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-29 03:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-28 05:05 pm (UTC)(And I cheated on my fic with yours. I tried to not read it until I finished, but I couldn't. resist.)
I few days ago I was conspicuously whining about the lack of happy! Chloe/Davis porn. This is what I was hoping for. You do go into a bit of the angst, the epic screwedup-ness of circumstances and itdoesntfuckingmatterbecausetheywillbeat thisandthrowcautiontothewindbecausetheyfuckingloveeachotherandphew! Also because she laughs and they are happy and they *stay at it*.
I love IC touches here. chloe and her thoughts about being suave and cool and Lana with dirty wings. she pones them all with her pinky. but it was true to her.
The fantasy, I wouldn't have expected with the connection to blood, but it is quite primal. Chloe found the protect the tiny blonde thing hot! ;)
The hand scene, my god. I can imagine that sort of almost-chaste-omg-burning from Chloe and Davis. Even if I didn't have a substantial hand kink.
and the emotional stuff. so much <3 for that.
Also they talk. because they would. the hey thing. because they would.and the ILY, because they would. kudos for use of rippling and making it work.
and I could eh. visualize it all quite well. Also, I really found your use of mechanical illusions awesome. his heart like an anvil struck by a hammer, machine. they worked within this. just. so well.
That thing with telling Clark and finally grabbing on to her relationship with Davis because its staying.
I love your closing.
Davis tried to smile. He succeeded. “I don’t want to ever lose you either.”
And for the first time, Chloe started thinking she could be happy.
1. because Davis has those trying to smile moments, which are kind of heartbreaking, but he actually does. 2. and yes! Chloe. happy.
and her vagina +9000.Yes, this means I'm going to ask you to archive.
no subject
Date: 2009-05-01 04:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-28 06:42 pm (UTC)I can't think of anything else to say but: Wow.
no subject
Date: 2009-04-28 07:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-29 05:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-29 02:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-05 12:26 pm (UTC)