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seriousficTitle: The Villain Of The Story
Fandom: Smallville
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 4,335
Author’s Note: Betaed by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
vagrantdream.
Characters/Pairings: Chloe/Davis
Last Part: Chapter 15
Next Part: Chapter 17
Summary: With the Nicodemus pollen removing her inhibitions, there’s only one person Chloe wants to see.
Davis fell in behind Pete as he walked to his next class, not able to avoid casting a glance at Eric Summers and his troupe of fawning admirers. Eric was lifting up a blonde with one hand and appearing to enjoy himself immensely. Davis pressed his lips into a thin line and deliberately looked at Pete.
“Hey, have you seen Chloe?”
“Nah, she was AWOL at Geometry.”
“I’m gonna call her. Next time you see Miss Lane, you mind asking her if she knows what’s up with her cousin?”
“Will do.” Then Pete broke off to watch Eric juggle jocks.
Davis shook his head as he dialed Chloe’s number. She picked up on the fourth ring, said “Yeah?” in a voice still heavy with sleep.
“Hey, I didn’t see you at language arts, so now I’m just checking to see if you’re alright… which you obviously are…”
“Yeah, I just felt like sleeping in.”
“Oh. Sorry to wake you.”
“No, it’s good that we’re both up. I’d better get to class.”
“Yeah, probably. Never know when there’s gonna be a pop quiz.”
“Mmm-hmm. What’re you wearing?”
***
Davis didn’t give the matter any more thought until after gym class. He knew Chloe’s weird phone sex operator thing was probably more attributable to her occasionally crooked sense of humor than a sudden bout of nymphomania. At least, he thought so until she walked into the boys’ locker room.
It wasn’t so much that she was wearing a short skirt and a floral-print tank top that was at least one size too small. It was that no one else was wearing much of anything.
“Mmm. Shower-fresh,” Chloe said as she swaggered her way down the rows of lockers, running a finger over the triceps of a particularly beefy football player before she reached Davis.
“Chloe, what are you doing here?” Davis asked, keeping a very firm grip on his towel.
“I’m a reporter. It’s my job to find out what’s kept under wraps.” With surprising speed, Chloe jerked the front of his towel forward, just enough for her to look down it. “Eep. No wonder you believe in God.”
Davis snatched his towel back against his waist. “Chloe, you really have to get out of here before you get in trouble.”
“Who knows, maybe some trouble will get into me.” She swiped her hand over his bare chest, picking at a dried bit of soap. “You missed a spot. See you later, Davis. Not too much later.”
She left to a chorus of catcalls and similar sentiments from those who couldn’t whistle, making the best of what small hips she had. Davis changed quickly and went after her, only having to stop a few times to remember such things as his underwear going on before his pants and that he didn’t wear a medallion.
She was long gone by the time he made it out, his socks a little slimy and his hair still damp, so he circled around to the newspaper office where he found her literally in the arms of another man. And he suddenly understood why the expression stuck, because seeing someone else’s arms looped around her like they owned, like someone else was at all entitled to her, made him want to fill the cold dark space which the Red had departed, fill it with boiling-hot rage.
The boy, whoever he was, looked up from his tonsil-dampening to see Davis standing there, head down like a bull about to charge, shoulders heaving, and quickly deduced he had stumbled upon a lovers’ spat.
“You, bricks, hit,” Davis growled, and the boy ran like a bat out of hell. “Who was that?”
“Who cares? Saw him in the hallway, asked him how he felt about hardcore journalism.” She put on a new layer of lipstick and popped her lips. “Course, I could’ve asked you if you hadn’t taken your sweet time getting here.”
“I was getting dressed,” Davis said, rolling the miniscule strap of Chloe’s top between his fingers.
Chloe sidestepped, letting his hooked fingers drag the strap off her shoulder. “Waste of time, if you ask me.” Now behind him, she kicked the door shut with her heel.
He blinked. She was still there, the thin tank top still on, with one strap crumpled down her arm and the other just waiting to be plucked, like an errant hair you just wanted to brush away. “You’re acting weird,” he said.
“Define weird.” She advanced on him. “This town is pretty weird, if you stop to think about it. You’re pretty weird. I’m pretty weird. We’re pretty weird.” She flicked the last shoulder strap just a little off, so that her tank top was clinging to her instead of hanging off her. “I’d like us to be…”
“Normal?”
“Right. Proper.” Her arms paused on the sides of his neck, like she was going to wring it, before joining behind his head. “Is it weirder to want something you can’t have or pretend you don’t want something you need?”
“There are—“ His lips felt very dry. He wanted to lick them, but the way she was looking at him, it would’ve been like waving a red cape. “I can’t.”
“It feels like you can,” Chloe grinned as her thigh rubbed against his groin. “C’mon, Davis. How about just a quick taste?”
She hopped up, her legs wrapping around his waist, her weight pushing him down on a desk. If he hadn’t braced himself with an arm, Davis would’ve gotten a three-ring binder in a very uncomfortable place.
“You don’t know…” he started.
He was drawn to the lines of her neck as she leaned back, almost as if she were offering herself to him. Even more than her breasts, he couldn’t help considering how soft it was, how delicate. He pressed his face to it, close enough to smell her under the perfume she was wearing. It was a good perfume. She was better.
“What I want from you…” His teeth grinded against each other. “How you make me feel…”
“Tell me.” Somehow sensing his desire, she took firm hold of his head and pulled it against her, moving him over her skin and cleavage and throat until he was at the other side of her neck, his breath hitting her flesh in hot bursts of air like steam off a boiler. “Tell me everything.”
“Whoa, looks like you two got here just in time for assembly,” Pete said.
Davis’s eyes snapped open. He pulled himself away from Chloe, her scent, and dropped her on a desk. “Pete, this is…”
“It’s cool, doing a little homework on sex ed, but you’d better freeze it before Principle Kwan finds you. He is not happy about your little free love thing in the locker room.”
Chloe jutted out her bottom lip as she pulled up her shoulder straps. “Knew we should’ve met up under the bleachers.”
“Alright, I’ll stall him, Chloe, you get home, get some sleep—alone!” He said before she could contradict him.
“Right. I’ve got a story to write anyway. Lex Luthor and his dirty little secrets. Helluva scoop. Wish I could print it right here… right now.” Chloe paused, her lips nearly brushing Davis’s. “But for some reason the Torch doesn’t go to press on weekends.”
“Chloe, no one goes to school on weekends,” Pete said.
“That’s right, they’re all...” Chloe shouldered past Davis, “sleeping in.”
***
Davis wasn’t too worried about Chloe doing anymore “investigative reporting”. He trusted her, and he guessed that all she was doing was some really drastic means of getting his attention (probably Justin’s death having an impact on her too, finally). Still, as soon as he got home from school he gave her a call.
“This is my deadline, Davis!” She held the phone to an electric fan. “That is it rushing by!”
After that, he called Lois, but first he had a talk with his dad about how he had known Mom was the one. It hadn’t helped much, given how maddeningly vague he had to be about the whole business (and not just sex, but the Red and poor dead Justin), but at least it gave him a retort to his constant worry that things would implode the moment he disturbed the hard-won equilibrium he’d reached with Chloe.
The seventh time he called, Lois didn’t even say hello, just “she’s in the shower, she’d done with her article, I’ll tell her you want to see her.”
“I don’t,” Davis had started to say, but before he could finish Lois had hung up.
***
“Hey, Lois, you mind if I borrow this?” Chloe said, wearing a shower turban and not much else. She was holding Lois’s old uniform in front of her.
Lois looked at it. “I don’t think it’ll fit.”
“I’m going to let it in some before I head out.”
“And where are we headed?”
“Kent farm. I need to get a job application to Davis, there’s a position I have that needs filling.”
Lois blinked. “Chloe, was that a double entendre?”
“Yeah. You wanna come along?” Chloe held the uniform over Lois’s body like she was gauging if it would still fit. “Every guy dreams of two girls at once… and how does the saying go? Incest is best?”
“Whoa,” Lois said, jerking back from Chloe. “When you loosen up, you really loosen up.”
“It’s in the blood. And you mind if I borrow Clark later? Maybe Davis is hungry for a Chloe sandwich.”
“…are you drunk?”
“You don’t have to decide right away. I’m sure Davis will be just enough to handle for tonight. Article’s saved on the D: drive, I’d appreciate it if you did the fact-checking.”
“Sure thing,” Lois said as Chloe disappeared upstairs with the uniform in one hand and a sewing kit in the other. “Hey, what makes you think Davis isn’t going to say no?”
“Because I’m not taking no for an answer.”
***
That evening, Lois had called him to say Chloe would be a little late (“Sewing machine’s acting up, don’t ask, I just said don’t ask, but she’s on her way. You know how to practice safe sex, right?”).
(Then she’d called him again to say “You have condoms, right? I am not having you knocking up my cuz with your farmboy spooge.”)
Davis glanced at the condoms, partially concealed under a loose floorboard. He was going to try to gently dissuade Chloe from her sudden mating drive (honest), but it was good to be prepared just in case Chloe… didn’t want to be dissuaded.
By the time Chloe got to the barn, Davis was half-asleep. It was midnight, and the late shows he was watching to stay awake had devolved into Andy Rooney hawking some kind of snack bar.
“Your parents are asleep,” Chloe said, stepping in front of the TV. She wore a trenchcoat that was probably very chic in flasher circles; in fact he thought he recognized it from the Halloween she’d dressed as Samantha Spade. “They’re letting you be up at twelve with a girl. They must really trust you.”
“I try to give them reason to,” Davis yawned.
“I wonder if they’d be so trusting if they knew I was fucking their baby boy.” Chloe dropped the trenchcoat.
Davis’s eyes feasted. They couldn’t stop anywhere. His gaze moved from her breasts, suddenly so much more there somehow, maybe because of the tightness of her blouse, to her narrow waist to her belly button, exposed along with the rest of her midriff. His stare was briefly interrupted by her skirt, but it was so short it might as well not have been there. He followed her smooth legs down to a pair of incongruous tennis shoes.
She spun around, making it worse. Her ass was only just concealed by the hem of her abbreviated skirt. It was a Smallville Crows cheerleading uniform. Brief shorts, short skirt, bared midriff, and a tight vest. Too tight to ever fly on the field. He could see her nipples, flush against the cloth.
“It’s Lois’s,” Chloe said, her indolent slide onto his bed excitingly conflicting with the energetic red uniform. “Fits pretty good, don’t you think?”
“Chloe, what’s gotten into you?”
“Nothing. Hence my dilemma.” She threw off his bedsheet. He’d taken off his shoes and socks but nothing else. He was acutely aware of how his jeans rubbed against his skin as her hands fell on his legs, higher and higher on his body. She was crawling over him, finally kneeling over his thighs as she undid his belt.
Davis could only grit his teeth and wonder if this would break him. If he’d mind being broken.
“Chloe, I like you a lot, but this…”
“What, Davis?” She leaned over him, one hand by his head, supporting her, the other working his pants down. “Give me one good reason I can’t have this.”
“I don’t want you to get hurt.” He was hard and ready and she was so lovely and he was so busy trying to control himself, not the part of himself that wanted to love her but the part of himself that wanted more from her, that he couldn’t completely ignore the little voice that wondered if it was even worth controlling himself.
She hadn’t been joking the last time she spoke and she was dead serious now. “Will I get hurt if we do this?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. It’s a risk.”
“How big a risk?”
It was so hard to concentrate with her hand poised just over his groin. Part of him was screaming to just go with it and with all the screaming he couldn’t tell which parts were him anymore and which parts were imposed on him. Maybe Chloe could decide. He hated himself for even thinking of putting that burden on her.
“How much of a risk?” she repeated. “If you think I can’t choose this unless I know the risks, then how can you deny it to me without letting me know the risks?”
He fell flat on his bed, staring up into the darkness of the rafters. “There’s a part of me… you’re going to think this sounds crazy.”
”Try me.”
“There’s a part of me that’s completely… instinct. It makes me feel very protective of you. I don’t think I could keep you safe if I didn’t hold back.”
“So go slow.” She kissed him, hands now tugging at his shirt. “Stay in control.” She shimmied out of her blouse, letting him see the bubble-gum pink of her nipples as Davis reared up, bracing himself against the headboard. “If you can.”
Davis reached down, forcing his fist to spread open before it met her thigh. He moved up until her skirt was covering the back of his hand.
“It’s okay,” Chloe said, her lips red, almost bruised. “Do it.”
He pulled on her panties until the hip strap broke, felt the warmth between her legs. Chloe tilted her head against his chest, breathing out as if in relief, hands pursed on his shoulders to hold her up.
“Keep going,” she breathed.
***
He was gentle with her. More than gentle, skittish, afraid, like his touch might cut into her or shatter her if he moved too fast. It was good, of course it was good, but it wasn’t him. The edges were pared down, the colors were muted… the flavor she’d tasted was gone.
Chloe wanted more. And in this strange dream-state, in this adrenaline high that wouldn’t leave her, she could insist on more instead of settling for just short of what she wanted. She could have it all.
She only had to kiss him once, and just long enough for him to feel this was more than affection, more than pleasure, and then she felt him begin to respond. His entire body seemed to snake against her, thrumming with power. They melted down side by side on the bed, Davis’s arm at an awkward angle between her legs, now making vaguely wet sounds when it invaded her. Chloe bit her lip and fumbled with his boxers until she had them down low enough for him to kick them off.
It was like his mouth was a black hole, waiting to consume all of her, accepting whatever she had to give like it was nothing compared to his passion. One hand was on her hip, digging in so hard it was actually painful, and the other was pistoning inside her, making her moan and cry out and pant. Just more for him to swallow up as his mouth burnt against hers.
His hand came up to brush the hair out of her face, cup her chin, and even though he was still being so hatefully gentle with her, it was still as intense as the fingernails had been as they cut into her thigh. “You’re a virgin, right?”
Chloe grinned. “For now.”
“So it’ll hurt,” Davis said, voice flooding with the old doubts.
She rolled onto her back and slowly pulled her skirt up until it was lying across her waist. “Hurt me.”
He moved over her, one leg sweeping over hers and then settling onto the mattress on the other side of her with a portentous squeal of bedsprings. His tongue dragged over her neck, her ear. All she could think about was biology class, phrases like alpha male and prospective mate. Then his tongue dipped into the hollow of her throat, the valley between her breasts and lower, over her stomach, into her belly button.
Chloe stopped him as his chin brushed over her skirt, still absurdly hung around her waist like a tutu. “What are you doing?”
“I, uh…” Davis’s brow furrowed as he tried to settle on a way to say it. “Cunnilingus?”
“That’s not what I want,” Chloe said, urging him back up with a welcoming smile. She felt so free, ready and waiting for whatever he had to give her. “C’mon, Davis. You know as long as you’re giving into temptation, you might as well go all the way and be completely satisfied. So how do you want to play this?”
Davis closed his eyes, then buried his face into the side of her neck like he couldn’t bear to face her. “See that desk over there?” he whispered into her ear. Chloe looked over and saw a writing desk, populated by some notebooks, a row of novels, and pen and paper. “I want to bend you over that desk and do things to you,” he said, unable to stop a growl from coarsening his voice.
“Like what kind of things?” Chloe asked, slipping out from under him, playfully backing to the desk.
Davis got out of bed, moving after her. Chloe felt her heart rattle her ribcage as she saw him naked, hard, weirdly inhuman with the moonlight hitting him. Like he wasn’t part of her world at all. “I want to… mark you.”
“With your teeth, I suppose?” Chloe said, letting him catch up to her, taking his outstretched hand and digging her teeth into his wrist. His sigh as she dragged at his flesh sounded deafening in the empty night.
“Yes.”
Her fingernails scratched over his chest, his abs, his groin. “And with your fingernails?”
“Yes.”
Chloe swept everything off the desk with an orgasmic clatter. “Sounds fun.” She got up, shimmied out of her skirt, and bent over the desk. Then she laid back, splaying herself over it. “Whatever you need from me, take it. Take it.”
He took hold of her by the shoulders, his hands damp and shaking now, and slowly turned her over. Then, more firmly, less in control, he pushed her down against the desk. Her nipples thrummed as they rubbed against the pitted wood of the desk, stained and frayed from years of use.
She felt his fingernails flaying her back, carving scarlet lines down the curve of her spine and making her whimper. When he reached her buttocks, his hands rubbing down their curve, then between her legs, she reared up. A hand was instantly at her throat, the back of it, forcing her head down. The side of her face met the wood and stayed there. His cock brushed against the back of her thigh as he moved in.
“God, you smell good.” His voice made her jump with how close it was, stirring her hair with its passage. He spread her legs, fingers still trembling with barely restrained force, then again tore his fingernails down her flank. She cried out as welts rose up and the hand came away from her neck, now moving her hair to one side. “Teeth now,” he warned, and she braced herself.
They sunk into her exposed neck, slowly, like he was biting down on a strawberry—savoring it. She writhed; she’d never felt anything like this before. It wasn’t a hickey and it wasn’t a love bite, but a prolonged… branding. Like he wouldn’t stop until blood welled up.
Chloe reached back and was able to feel the muscles of his back, corded with tension layered upon tension, shaking now as he broke the skin. Blood trickled down over her collarbone and onto her breast, the desk. His cock slid over her ass, sticky and scalding-hot. Now he forced her head back, to turn, and kissed her, sharing the iron taste of her blood. He let her up, his hands now between them as he guided his cock inside her.
“Harder,” she groaned.
***
Davis lost it. It was like the Red, only the thought of fighting its rise never even occurred to him. Like an animal he fell upon her, burying his face between her shoulder blades as he thrust into her. Her hands white-knuckled the edges of the desk and her mouth hung open, a formless noise of appreciation occasionally escaping, but he didn’t notice, couldn’t focus, his world had tightened to the feel of Chloe under him. It expanded in gasping increments, letting him feel the smallest of details. The sweat trickling between the small of his back and the smell of Chloe’s arousal, thick as anything, and the sound of her teeth gnashing as she bit down on her forearm to keep from screaming.
Davis didn’t know how long he was lost in Chloe, but she did. She gasped and heaved and slammed herself back against him, finally felt him stiffen against her and realized he was going to come inside her. His hands were on her ass, her hips, clenched tightly enough to make her find vivid red marks on her flesh the next time she showered, and she begged for more, for him, until her mouth was wide open and she was making a noise, a hysterical, desperate noise, and Davis returned to himself, his fingers tangled in her hair and his woman cooing as she sagged against the desk. Blinking, so relaxed it felt like his body was shutting down, he stepped away from her and out of her.
Chloe stirred to her feet, her hair sticking up wildly, parts of her face still shining with wetness. Her breasts heaved when she breathed, deep lungfuls of relief and contentment.
“Tell me you liked that,” Davis said uncertainly.
Cupping the back of his neck so she could force him to bend down and present his mouth, she showed him how much she liked it.
***
“Move over, I wanna get my snuggle on,” Chloe said after they had broken their long embrace and wandered to the bed, a little excited and a little embarrassed and mainly relieved that whatever they had tried to accomplish or prove, it had worked. She curled up against him and pulled the covers over them, finally bare skin against bare skin, feeling him cool down.
“Your heart’s going a mile-a-minute…” Chloe observed, still rubbing the sweat-slick plains of his chest with a lazy interest. She sat up, working a kink out of her neck. “Not bad, Kent. I wouldn’t want it to be like that all the time, but every now and then… on special occasions… Goddamn, it felt like I was a ragdoll!” she murmured excitedly.
Davis wiped his mouth with the back of his fingers. His knuckles came away red. “I didn’t scare you?”
Giving up the exploration of his chest to sag against him, arms around his neck, she said “I know you’d never hurt me.”
***
Davis woke up reaching for Chloe. She wasn’t there. He swung out of bed, feet coming down by small specks of red. Rose petals? He looked closer. Blood.
Grabbing a two by four, he followed the trail, breath puffing out maddened ghosts. No. No, no, no! He went down the stairs, following bloodstains that grew to the size of handprints, like someone was beating at the floor, trying to get out.
He found Chloe under the hayloft, torso hung like a bale of hay. Her legs were lost in a pool of red. He vomited, the sight of her blood-darkened hair covering her breasts searing into his mind.
When he looked up, Eric stood over him, his blue suit stained with blood. A slender dagger hung from his hand. “What did you think would happen?”
A rooster crowed and Davis jerked up, barely recognizing his own body in the glaze of sweat and the feverish heartbeat. He reached out and touched Chloe, lying next to him, barely warmed by the dawning sun.
“I think I have a few issues.” He nudged Chloe. “Wake up, we need to get dressed. I think I can convince Ma and Pa that we were up all night studying, since we’re us, but it’d probably help if we had pants on.”
Chloe didn’t budge. Davis gave her a harder tap. “C’mon, it’s Saturday. You can nap at home.” Chloe wasn’t moving. Davis pinched her as hard as he could. Her eyes wouldn’t open.
Davis made a B-line for his car keys.
Author's notes: This chapter covers 1x18 Drone.
So, knowing that the first season had a sex pollen episode, I had to use that, but how? I didn’t want it to be just random porn, otherwise I’d just write in a Davis/Chloe/Lois threesome, or some hot stepbrother action between Clark and Lex. With the way the story came together, it became pretty obvious that I could use the sex pollen to propel Davis and Chloe into a sexual relationship, while still holding enough in reserve to show they weren’t hunky-dory.
Which brings us to the rough, animalistic sex they had. Yeah, speaking of plot moving forward, part of the point of this scene (besides, you know, SEX UP TINY BLONDE) was that Chloe is accepting Davis’s rough edges and for that to work, there has to be some kinky shit for her to accept. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. And of course, I know if you’ve gotten this far, you’re dirty enough to fall for the “I have DIRTYBADWRONG urges for you, but I love you too much to do indulge my INESCAPIBLE BIOLOGICAL DESIRES. What’s that, you want me to? Okay, I’ll fuck your brains out, but only if we can cuddle afterward.” Yes, we all know it’s wrong, but better you get your fix from me than Twilight. It’s okay to be kind of excited by Rutting!Davis. Fanboys get catgirls, you’re entitled to Doomsday. Jesus still loves you.
But basically, if I recall from the comics right, Doomsday is an amalgam of several different animals designed to create the perfect killing machine (I knew it was a bad idea to broadcast the Sci-Fi Channel into space), so it makes a certain sense that there’s this bestial side of him. I’ve heard that’s been overplayed some with Wolverine and with all the vampires and werewolves running around fandom, but screw it, it’s new for me. So I decided as long as I’m writing this crazy bestial scene, I might as well indulge all the clichés and make it the best crazy bestial scene I could. There was actually a list of porn tropes I looked at that had things like fingernails and biting and forcing the head down on it, so someone thinks it’s hot. Hopefully you do too, now that I’ve warped your brain.
Of course, get Chloe high on sex pollen and she’ll get her article done before she makes sexy tiem (priorities, Chloe, priorities). Something else to move the plot forward. What, you thought I doused Chloe with sex pollen just to get her laid? How uncouth.
And the reference in the nightmare is pretty easy to spot. Same parallel as before. Davis is hanging on to this delusion that he can control Eric because the alternative is letting go of Chloe. And another red-blue blur reference, for those keeping track
For the characterization of Chloe on sex pollen, I did borrow from the season two episode where Chloe got hit with an entirely separate kind of sex pollen plot device. Although there, the sex/journalism quip was just “investigative reporting,” and I like “hardcore journalism” better. This is because exposure to Davis’s abs makes you wittier. It even worked on the writers. Why do you think season eight was kinda quality for a while? Because Davis kept taking his shirt off. Tim Kring, hire Sam Witwer to join the cast of Heroes as a hero with the power of not needing a shirt, no matter how hot or cold it is. Your storytelling abilities will skyrocket.
That was a long and pointless digression. I can’t believe I have this much to say about a chapter where Chloe gets high and fucks Davis. The cheerleading outfit… I’ll admit, that was gratuitous. And of course, when Chloe is high on sex pollen, she has a certain attraction for Clark (or at least Clark sandwiches). That concludes the characterization for this chapter, enjoy the porn.
Next time, Lex. I realize most weeks you get Lex, but Lex is going to be at his most HBIC here. He knows it’s going to take a lot to top Rutting!Davis, but he’s up to the challenge!
Fandom: Smallville
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 4,335
Author’s Note: Betaed by
vagrantdream.Characters/Pairings: Chloe/Davis
Last Part: Chapter 15
Next Part: Chapter 17
Summary: With the Nicodemus pollen removing her inhibitions, there’s only one person Chloe wants to see.
Davis fell in behind Pete as he walked to his next class, not able to avoid casting a glance at Eric Summers and his troupe of fawning admirers. Eric was lifting up a blonde with one hand and appearing to enjoy himself immensely. Davis pressed his lips into a thin line and deliberately looked at Pete.
“Hey, have you seen Chloe?”
“Nah, she was AWOL at Geometry.”
“I’m gonna call her. Next time you see Miss Lane, you mind asking her if she knows what’s up with her cousin?”
“Will do.” Then Pete broke off to watch Eric juggle jocks.
Davis shook his head as he dialed Chloe’s number. She picked up on the fourth ring, said “Yeah?” in a voice still heavy with sleep.
“Hey, I didn’t see you at language arts, so now I’m just checking to see if you’re alright… which you obviously are…”
“Yeah, I just felt like sleeping in.”
“Oh. Sorry to wake you.”
“No, it’s good that we’re both up. I’d better get to class.”
“Yeah, probably. Never know when there’s gonna be a pop quiz.”
“Mmm-hmm. What’re you wearing?”
***
Davis didn’t give the matter any more thought until after gym class. He knew Chloe’s weird phone sex operator thing was probably more attributable to her occasionally crooked sense of humor than a sudden bout of nymphomania. At least, he thought so until she walked into the boys’ locker room.
It wasn’t so much that she was wearing a short skirt and a floral-print tank top that was at least one size too small. It was that no one else was wearing much of anything.
“Mmm. Shower-fresh,” Chloe said as she swaggered her way down the rows of lockers, running a finger over the triceps of a particularly beefy football player before she reached Davis.
“Chloe, what are you doing here?” Davis asked, keeping a very firm grip on his towel.
“I’m a reporter. It’s my job to find out what’s kept under wraps.” With surprising speed, Chloe jerked the front of his towel forward, just enough for her to look down it. “Eep. No wonder you believe in God.”
Davis snatched his towel back against his waist. “Chloe, you really have to get out of here before you get in trouble.”
“Who knows, maybe some trouble will get into me.” She swiped her hand over his bare chest, picking at a dried bit of soap. “You missed a spot. See you later, Davis. Not too much later.”
She left to a chorus of catcalls and similar sentiments from those who couldn’t whistle, making the best of what small hips she had. Davis changed quickly and went after her, only having to stop a few times to remember such things as his underwear going on before his pants and that he didn’t wear a medallion.
She was long gone by the time he made it out, his socks a little slimy and his hair still damp, so he circled around to the newspaper office where he found her literally in the arms of another man. And he suddenly understood why the expression stuck, because seeing someone else’s arms looped around her like they owned, like someone else was at all entitled to her, made him want to fill the cold dark space which the Red had departed, fill it with boiling-hot rage.
The boy, whoever he was, looked up from his tonsil-dampening to see Davis standing there, head down like a bull about to charge, shoulders heaving, and quickly deduced he had stumbled upon a lovers’ spat.
“You, bricks, hit,” Davis growled, and the boy ran like a bat out of hell. “Who was that?”
“Who cares? Saw him in the hallway, asked him how he felt about hardcore journalism.” She put on a new layer of lipstick and popped her lips. “Course, I could’ve asked you if you hadn’t taken your sweet time getting here.”
“I was getting dressed,” Davis said, rolling the miniscule strap of Chloe’s top between his fingers.
Chloe sidestepped, letting his hooked fingers drag the strap off her shoulder. “Waste of time, if you ask me.” Now behind him, she kicked the door shut with her heel.
He blinked. She was still there, the thin tank top still on, with one strap crumpled down her arm and the other just waiting to be plucked, like an errant hair you just wanted to brush away. “You’re acting weird,” he said.
“Define weird.” She advanced on him. “This town is pretty weird, if you stop to think about it. You’re pretty weird. I’m pretty weird. We’re pretty weird.” She flicked the last shoulder strap just a little off, so that her tank top was clinging to her instead of hanging off her. “I’d like us to be…”
“Normal?”
“Right. Proper.” Her arms paused on the sides of his neck, like she was going to wring it, before joining behind his head. “Is it weirder to want something you can’t have or pretend you don’t want something you need?”
“There are—“ His lips felt very dry. He wanted to lick them, but the way she was looking at him, it would’ve been like waving a red cape. “I can’t.”
“It feels like you can,” Chloe grinned as her thigh rubbed against his groin. “C’mon, Davis. How about just a quick taste?”
She hopped up, her legs wrapping around his waist, her weight pushing him down on a desk. If he hadn’t braced himself with an arm, Davis would’ve gotten a three-ring binder in a very uncomfortable place.
“You don’t know…” he started.
He was drawn to the lines of her neck as she leaned back, almost as if she were offering herself to him. Even more than her breasts, he couldn’t help considering how soft it was, how delicate. He pressed his face to it, close enough to smell her under the perfume she was wearing. It was a good perfume. She was better.
“What I want from you…” His teeth grinded against each other. “How you make me feel…”
“Tell me.” Somehow sensing his desire, she took firm hold of his head and pulled it against her, moving him over her skin and cleavage and throat until he was at the other side of her neck, his breath hitting her flesh in hot bursts of air like steam off a boiler. “Tell me everything.”
“Whoa, looks like you two got here just in time for assembly,” Pete said.
Davis’s eyes snapped open. He pulled himself away from Chloe, her scent, and dropped her on a desk. “Pete, this is…”
“It’s cool, doing a little homework on sex ed, but you’d better freeze it before Principle Kwan finds you. He is not happy about your little free love thing in the locker room.”
Chloe jutted out her bottom lip as she pulled up her shoulder straps. “Knew we should’ve met up under the bleachers.”
“Alright, I’ll stall him, Chloe, you get home, get some sleep—alone!” He said before she could contradict him.
“Right. I’ve got a story to write anyway. Lex Luthor and his dirty little secrets. Helluva scoop. Wish I could print it right here… right now.” Chloe paused, her lips nearly brushing Davis’s. “But for some reason the Torch doesn’t go to press on weekends.”
“Chloe, no one goes to school on weekends,” Pete said.
“That’s right, they’re all...” Chloe shouldered past Davis, “sleeping in.”
***
Davis wasn’t too worried about Chloe doing anymore “investigative reporting”. He trusted her, and he guessed that all she was doing was some really drastic means of getting his attention (probably Justin’s death having an impact on her too, finally). Still, as soon as he got home from school he gave her a call.
“This is my deadline, Davis!” She held the phone to an electric fan. “That is it rushing by!”
After that, he called Lois, but first he had a talk with his dad about how he had known Mom was the one. It hadn’t helped much, given how maddeningly vague he had to be about the whole business (and not just sex, but the Red and poor dead Justin), but at least it gave him a retort to his constant worry that things would implode the moment he disturbed the hard-won equilibrium he’d reached with Chloe.
The seventh time he called, Lois didn’t even say hello, just “she’s in the shower, she’d done with her article, I’ll tell her you want to see her.”
“I don’t,” Davis had started to say, but before he could finish Lois had hung up.
***
“Hey, Lois, you mind if I borrow this?” Chloe said, wearing a shower turban and not much else. She was holding Lois’s old uniform in front of her.
Lois looked at it. “I don’t think it’ll fit.”
“I’m going to let it in some before I head out.”
“And where are we headed?”
“Kent farm. I need to get a job application to Davis, there’s a position I have that needs filling.”
Lois blinked. “Chloe, was that a double entendre?”
“Yeah. You wanna come along?” Chloe held the uniform over Lois’s body like she was gauging if it would still fit. “Every guy dreams of two girls at once… and how does the saying go? Incest is best?”
“Whoa,” Lois said, jerking back from Chloe. “When you loosen up, you really loosen up.”
“It’s in the blood. And you mind if I borrow Clark later? Maybe Davis is hungry for a Chloe sandwich.”
“…are you drunk?”
“You don’t have to decide right away. I’m sure Davis will be just enough to handle for tonight. Article’s saved on the D: drive, I’d appreciate it if you did the fact-checking.”
“Sure thing,” Lois said as Chloe disappeared upstairs with the uniform in one hand and a sewing kit in the other. “Hey, what makes you think Davis isn’t going to say no?”
“Because I’m not taking no for an answer.”
***
That evening, Lois had called him to say Chloe would be a little late (“Sewing machine’s acting up, don’t ask, I just said don’t ask, but she’s on her way. You know how to practice safe sex, right?”).
(Then she’d called him again to say “You have condoms, right? I am not having you knocking up my cuz with your farmboy spooge.”)
Davis glanced at the condoms, partially concealed under a loose floorboard. He was going to try to gently dissuade Chloe from her sudden mating drive (honest), but it was good to be prepared just in case Chloe… didn’t want to be dissuaded.
By the time Chloe got to the barn, Davis was half-asleep. It was midnight, and the late shows he was watching to stay awake had devolved into Andy Rooney hawking some kind of snack bar.
“Your parents are asleep,” Chloe said, stepping in front of the TV. She wore a trenchcoat that was probably very chic in flasher circles; in fact he thought he recognized it from the Halloween she’d dressed as Samantha Spade. “They’re letting you be up at twelve with a girl. They must really trust you.”
“I try to give them reason to,” Davis yawned.
“I wonder if they’d be so trusting if they knew I was fucking their baby boy.” Chloe dropped the trenchcoat.
Davis’s eyes feasted. They couldn’t stop anywhere. His gaze moved from her breasts, suddenly so much more there somehow, maybe because of the tightness of her blouse, to her narrow waist to her belly button, exposed along with the rest of her midriff. His stare was briefly interrupted by her skirt, but it was so short it might as well not have been there. He followed her smooth legs down to a pair of incongruous tennis shoes.
She spun around, making it worse. Her ass was only just concealed by the hem of her abbreviated skirt. It was a Smallville Crows cheerleading uniform. Brief shorts, short skirt, bared midriff, and a tight vest. Too tight to ever fly on the field. He could see her nipples, flush against the cloth.
“It’s Lois’s,” Chloe said, her indolent slide onto his bed excitingly conflicting with the energetic red uniform. “Fits pretty good, don’t you think?”
“Chloe, what’s gotten into you?”
“Nothing. Hence my dilemma.” She threw off his bedsheet. He’d taken off his shoes and socks but nothing else. He was acutely aware of how his jeans rubbed against his skin as her hands fell on his legs, higher and higher on his body. She was crawling over him, finally kneeling over his thighs as she undid his belt.
Davis could only grit his teeth and wonder if this would break him. If he’d mind being broken.
“Chloe, I like you a lot, but this…”
“What, Davis?” She leaned over him, one hand by his head, supporting her, the other working his pants down. “Give me one good reason I can’t have this.”
“I don’t want you to get hurt.” He was hard and ready and she was so lovely and he was so busy trying to control himself, not the part of himself that wanted to love her but the part of himself that wanted more from her, that he couldn’t completely ignore the little voice that wondered if it was even worth controlling himself.
She hadn’t been joking the last time she spoke and she was dead serious now. “Will I get hurt if we do this?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. It’s a risk.”
“How big a risk?”
It was so hard to concentrate with her hand poised just over his groin. Part of him was screaming to just go with it and with all the screaming he couldn’t tell which parts were him anymore and which parts were imposed on him. Maybe Chloe could decide. He hated himself for even thinking of putting that burden on her.
“How much of a risk?” she repeated. “If you think I can’t choose this unless I know the risks, then how can you deny it to me without letting me know the risks?”
He fell flat on his bed, staring up into the darkness of the rafters. “There’s a part of me… you’re going to think this sounds crazy.”
”Try me.”
“There’s a part of me that’s completely… instinct. It makes me feel very protective of you. I don’t think I could keep you safe if I didn’t hold back.”
“So go slow.” She kissed him, hands now tugging at his shirt. “Stay in control.” She shimmied out of her blouse, letting him see the bubble-gum pink of her nipples as Davis reared up, bracing himself against the headboard. “If you can.”
Davis reached down, forcing his fist to spread open before it met her thigh. He moved up until her skirt was covering the back of his hand.
“It’s okay,” Chloe said, her lips red, almost bruised. “Do it.”
He pulled on her panties until the hip strap broke, felt the warmth between her legs. Chloe tilted her head against his chest, breathing out as if in relief, hands pursed on his shoulders to hold her up.
“Keep going,” she breathed.
***
He was gentle with her. More than gentle, skittish, afraid, like his touch might cut into her or shatter her if he moved too fast. It was good, of course it was good, but it wasn’t him. The edges were pared down, the colors were muted… the flavor she’d tasted was gone.
Chloe wanted more. And in this strange dream-state, in this adrenaline high that wouldn’t leave her, she could insist on more instead of settling for just short of what she wanted. She could have it all.
She only had to kiss him once, and just long enough for him to feel this was more than affection, more than pleasure, and then she felt him begin to respond. His entire body seemed to snake against her, thrumming with power. They melted down side by side on the bed, Davis’s arm at an awkward angle between her legs, now making vaguely wet sounds when it invaded her. Chloe bit her lip and fumbled with his boxers until she had them down low enough for him to kick them off.
It was like his mouth was a black hole, waiting to consume all of her, accepting whatever she had to give like it was nothing compared to his passion. One hand was on her hip, digging in so hard it was actually painful, and the other was pistoning inside her, making her moan and cry out and pant. Just more for him to swallow up as his mouth burnt against hers.
His hand came up to brush the hair out of her face, cup her chin, and even though he was still being so hatefully gentle with her, it was still as intense as the fingernails had been as they cut into her thigh. “You’re a virgin, right?”
Chloe grinned. “For now.”
“So it’ll hurt,” Davis said, voice flooding with the old doubts.
She rolled onto her back and slowly pulled her skirt up until it was lying across her waist. “Hurt me.”
He moved over her, one leg sweeping over hers and then settling onto the mattress on the other side of her with a portentous squeal of bedsprings. His tongue dragged over her neck, her ear. All she could think about was biology class, phrases like alpha male and prospective mate. Then his tongue dipped into the hollow of her throat, the valley between her breasts and lower, over her stomach, into her belly button.
Chloe stopped him as his chin brushed over her skirt, still absurdly hung around her waist like a tutu. “What are you doing?”
“I, uh…” Davis’s brow furrowed as he tried to settle on a way to say it. “Cunnilingus?”
“That’s not what I want,” Chloe said, urging him back up with a welcoming smile. She felt so free, ready and waiting for whatever he had to give her. “C’mon, Davis. You know as long as you’re giving into temptation, you might as well go all the way and be completely satisfied. So how do you want to play this?”
Davis closed his eyes, then buried his face into the side of her neck like he couldn’t bear to face her. “See that desk over there?” he whispered into her ear. Chloe looked over and saw a writing desk, populated by some notebooks, a row of novels, and pen and paper. “I want to bend you over that desk and do things to you,” he said, unable to stop a growl from coarsening his voice.
“Like what kind of things?” Chloe asked, slipping out from under him, playfully backing to the desk.
Davis got out of bed, moving after her. Chloe felt her heart rattle her ribcage as she saw him naked, hard, weirdly inhuman with the moonlight hitting him. Like he wasn’t part of her world at all. “I want to… mark you.”
“With your teeth, I suppose?” Chloe said, letting him catch up to her, taking his outstretched hand and digging her teeth into his wrist. His sigh as she dragged at his flesh sounded deafening in the empty night.
“Yes.”
Her fingernails scratched over his chest, his abs, his groin. “And with your fingernails?”
“Yes.”
Chloe swept everything off the desk with an orgasmic clatter. “Sounds fun.” She got up, shimmied out of her skirt, and bent over the desk. Then she laid back, splaying herself over it. “Whatever you need from me, take it. Take it.”
He took hold of her by the shoulders, his hands damp and shaking now, and slowly turned her over. Then, more firmly, less in control, he pushed her down against the desk. Her nipples thrummed as they rubbed against the pitted wood of the desk, stained and frayed from years of use.
She felt his fingernails flaying her back, carving scarlet lines down the curve of her spine and making her whimper. When he reached her buttocks, his hands rubbing down their curve, then between her legs, she reared up. A hand was instantly at her throat, the back of it, forcing her head down. The side of her face met the wood and stayed there. His cock brushed against the back of her thigh as he moved in.
“God, you smell good.” His voice made her jump with how close it was, stirring her hair with its passage. He spread her legs, fingers still trembling with barely restrained force, then again tore his fingernails down her flank. She cried out as welts rose up and the hand came away from her neck, now moving her hair to one side. “Teeth now,” he warned, and she braced herself.
They sunk into her exposed neck, slowly, like he was biting down on a strawberry—savoring it. She writhed; she’d never felt anything like this before. It wasn’t a hickey and it wasn’t a love bite, but a prolonged… branding. Like he wouldn’t stop until blood welled up.
Chloe reached back and was able to feel the muscles of his back, corded with tension layered upon tension, shaking now as he broke the skin. Blood trickled down over her collarbone and onto her breast, the desk. His cock slid over her ass, sticky and scalding-hot. Now he forced her head back, to turn, and kissed her, sharing the iron taste of her blood. He let her up, his hands now between them as he guided his cock inside her.
“Harder,” she groaned.
***
Davis lost it. It was like the Red, only the thought of fighting its rise never even occurred to him. Like an animal he fell upon her, burying his face between her shoulder blades as he thrust into her. Her hands white-knuckled the edges of the desk and her mouth hung open, a formless noise of appreciation occasionally escaping, but he didn’t notice, couldn’t focus, his world had tightened to the feel of Chloe under him. It expanded in gasping increments, letting him feel the smallest of details. The sweat trickling between the small of his back and the smell of Chloe’s arousal, thick as anything, and the sound of her teeth gnashing as she bit down on her forearm to keep from screaming.
Davis didn’t know how long he was lost in Chloe, but she did. She gasped and heaved and slammed herself back against him, finally felt him stiffen against her and realized he was going to come inside her. His hands were on her ass, her hips, clenched tightly enough to make her find vivid red marks on her flesh the next time she showered, and she begged for more, for him, until her mouth was wide open and she was making a noise, a hysterical, desperate noise, and Davis returned to himself, his fingers tangled in her hair and his woman cooing as she sagged against the desk. Blinking, so relaxed it felt like his body was shutting down, he stepped away from her and out of her.
Chloe stirred to her feet, her hair sticking up wildly, parts of her face still shining with wetness. Her breasts heaved when she breathed, deep lungfuls of relief and contentment.
“Tell me you liked that,” Davis said uncertainly.
Cupping the back of his neck so she could force him to bend down and present his mouth, she showed him how much she liked it.
***
“Move over, I wanna get my snuggle on,” Chloe said after they had broken their long embrace and wandered to the bed, a little excited and a little embarrassed and mainly relieved that whatever they had tried to accomplish or prove, it had worked. She curled up against him and pulled the covers over them, finally bare skin against bare skin, feeling him cool down.
“Your heart’s going a mile-a-minute…” Chloe observed, still rubbing the sweat-slick plains of his chest with a lazy interest. She sat up, working a kink out of her neck. “Not bad, Kent. I wouldn’t want it to be like that all the time, but every now and then… on special occasions… Goddamn, it felt like I was a ragdoll!” she murmured excitedly.
Davis wiped his mouth with the back of his fingers. His knuckles came away red. “I didn’t scare you?”
Giving up the exploration of his chest to sag against him, arms around his neck, she said “I know you’d never hurt me.”
***
Davis woke up reaching for Chloe. She wasn’t there. He swung out of bed, feet coming down by small specks of red. Rose petals? He looked closer. Blood.
Grabbing a two by four, he followed the trail, breath puffing out maddened ghosts. No. No, no, no! He went down the stairs, following bloodstains that grew to the size of handprints, like someone was beating at the floor, trying to get out.
He found Chloe under the hayloft, torso hung like a bale of hay. Her legs were lost in a pool of red. He vomited, the sight of her blood-darkened hair covering her breasts searing into his mind.
When he looked up, Eric stood over him, his blue suit stained with blood. A slender dagger hung from his hand. “What did you think would happen?”
A rooster crowed and Davis jerked up, barely recognizing his own body in the glaze of sweat and the feverish heartbeat. He reached out and touched Chloe, lying next to him, barely warmed by the dawning sun.
“I think I have a few issues.” He nudged Chloe. “Wake up, we need to get dressed. I think I can convince Ma and Pa that we were up all night studying, since we’re us, but it’d probably help if we had pants on.”
Chloe didn’t budge. Davis gave her a harder tap. “C’mon, it’s Saturday. You can nap at home.” Chloe wasn’t moving. Davis pinched her as hard as he could. Her eyes wouldn’t open.
Davis made a B-line for his car keys.
Author's notes: This chapter covers 1x18 Drone.
So, knowing that the first season had a sex pollen episode, I had to use that, but how? I didn’t want it to be just random porn, otherwise I’d just write in a Davis/Chloe/Lois threesome, or some hot stepbrother action between Clark and Lex. With the way the story came together, it became pretty obvious that I could use the sex pollen to propel Davis and Chloe into a sexual relationship, while still holding enough in reserve to show they weren’t hunky-dory.
Which brings us to the rough, animalistic sex they had. Yeah, speaking of plot moving forward, part of the point of this scene (besides, you know, SEX UP TINY BLONDE) was that Chloe is accepting Davis’s rough edges and for that to work, there has to be some kinky shit for her to accept. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. And of course, I know if you’ve gotten this far, you’re dirty enough to fall for the “I have DIRTYBADWRONG urges for you, but I love you too much to do indulge my INESCAPIBLE BIOLOGICAL DESIRES. What’s that, you want me to? Okay, I’ll fuck your brains out, but only if we can cuddle afterward.” Yes, we all know it’s wrong, but better you get your fix from me than Twilight. It’s okay to be kind of excited by Rutting!Davis. Fanboys get catgirls, you’re entitled to Doomsday. Jesus still loves you.
But basically, if I recall from the comics right, Doomsday is an amalgam of several different animals designed to create the perfect killing machine (I knew it was a bad idea to broadcast the Sci-Fi Channel into space), so it makes a certain sense that there’s this bestial side of him. I’ve heard that’s been overplayed some with Wolverine and with all the vampires and werewolves running around fandom, but screw it, it’s new for me. So I decided as long as I’m writing this crazy bestial scene, I might as well indulge all the clichés and make it the best crazy bestial scene I could. There was actually a list of porn tropes I looked at that had things like fingernails and biting and forcing the head down on it, so someone thinks it’s hot. Hopefully you do too, now that I’ve warped your brain.
Of course, get Chloe high on sex pollen and she’ll get her article done before she makes sexy tiem (priorities, Chloe, priorities). Something else to move the plot forward. What, you thought I doused Chloe with sex pollen just to get her laid? How uncouth.
And the reference in the nightmare is pretty easy to spot. Same parallel as before. Davis is hanging on to this delusion that he can control Eric because the alternative is letting go of Chloe. And another red-blue blur reference, for those keeping track
For the characterization of Chloe on sex pollen, I did borrow from the season two episode where Chloe got hit with an entirely separate kind of sex pollen plot device. Although there, the sex/journalism quip was just “investigative reporting,” and I like “hardcore journalism” better. This is because exposure to Davis’s abs makes you wittier. It even worked on the writers. Why do you think season eight was kinda quality for a while? Because Davis kept taking his shirt off. Tim Kring, hire Sam Witwer to join the cast of Heroes as a hero with the power of not needing a shirt, no matter how hot or cold it is. Your storytelling abilities will skyrocket.
That was a long and pointless digression. I can’t believe I have this much to say about a chapter where Chloe gets high and fucks Davis. The cheerleading outfit… I’ll admit, that was gratuitous. And of course, when Chloe is high on sex pollen, she has a certain attraction for Clark (or at least Clark sandwiches). That concludes the characterization for this chapter, enjoy the porn.
Next time, Lex. I realize most weeks you get Lex, but Lex is going to be at his most HBIC here. He knows it’s going to take a lot to top Rutting!Davis, but he’s up to the challenge!
