smallville fic: subject in person
From yesterday's drabble tag thing... Remember that one time Davis mentioned clutching at strands of Chloe's hair would not keep him from transforming? Well....
Anyone who joked about you being a personal stalker either really liked you or were capable of it.
Men who couldn't be away from her were rare, yet Davis had a beast of destruction in him, so the urge was more intense than most. It got so Chloe could feel when he was tracking her, right down deep in her bones. There were accompanying quivers in the pit of her stomach, in her thighs, occasionally more intimate places. She was lucky that this time her groceries had no eggs in them.
His tackle caught her around the shoulders. Arms wrapped around her before she hit the ground but sweat made them to slick to really grasp. It was okay. He was panting, whining, dragging careful teeth over the shell of her ear. He was pretty far along. Her skirt was workable, his pants weren't. They were down on the pavement; he was against her. Chloe said a small prayer to the gods of indecent exposure and tugged down his fly.
She groped her arms back against his stomach and wondered if there were any spikes on his back this time. The thing inside Davis had rapid urges to mate punctuated by fits of fear. There was no logic to it, not always. He could be inside her stretched out over their squealing cot as often as he could be on the gravel. It was just one of those days.
Davis was being soft and trying to kiss her, trailing light pressure from her jaw to her mouth. She squirmed. Chloe reckoned she wasn't very good prey. There was this twist of heat in her stomach, a jagged hunger that made her move. His hands slipped and fastened over her hips, finding handholds for when he notched inside. He moved a little and her skin tingled with a twist of affection and too much heat. She could hear him if she tried, garbled mumbles that sounded like sorry, love you, everything. He was feverish with it, she knew, but he thrust a little further against her and she couldn't care. "Keep going." He'd found the right place in fractions of a second, hot and right and practically perfect. She humped between him and the pavement like a stringed doll, keening and puffing louder. He nipped and tugged softly at the back of her neck.
He had fingers in her. Chloe gasped, rocked and bit back a curse at the sharp stone scratching a hole in her elbow. No need to alarm the conscious side of him. Power cut through him like a fissure. It was amazing how he could be in control as he was. Her vision was blurry. He was too much, too hot, hollowing the pit of her stomach with need. It would be easier if she were spent and jellied legged under him, already, but then... she liked to choose the ways she saved the world. That part was easy. She'd chosen him the second she'd felt his heart beating under her hand.
Davis braced his mouth on her hair. Even the primal part of him could tell when she was close, enough to slow and hold her and pant it. Doomsday wanted to be mated, to have something that wouldn't try and destroy it. He wanted her to enjoy it. Chloe bit her lip as she went over, falling, swinging through the low noises in his throat. She felt her lips twitching up in the most inappropriate giggle. Clutching at locks of her hair never helped Davis. That worked better when they were attached to the subject in question.
In cases of sidewalk porn, don't expect plot.
On an unrelated note- I just made a breakthrough on the cracky beast thing... XD Lex learned an eye for an eye. Chloe is sorta 'gray'. Davis has got Catholic sex guilt. The fortress will never be the same again.
Anyone who joked about you being a personal stalker either really liked you or were capable of it.
Men who couldn't be away from her were rare, yet Davis had a beast of destruction in him, so the urge was more intense than most. It got so Chloe could feel when he was tracking her, right down deep in her bones. There were accompanying quivers in the pit of her stomach, in her thighs, occasionally more intimate places. She was lucky that this time her groceries had no eggs in them.
His tackle caught her around the shoulders. Arms wrapped around her before she hit the ground but sweat made them to slick to really grasp. It was okay. He was panting, whining, dragging careful teeth over the shell of her ear. He was pretty far along. Her skirt was workable, his pants weren't. They were down on the pavement; he was against her. Chloe said a small prayer to the gods of indecent exposure and tugged down his fly.
She groped her arms back against his stomach and wondered if there were any spikes on his back this time. The thing inside Davis had rapid urges to mate punctuated by fits of fear. There was no logic to it, not always. He could be inside her stretched out over their squealing cot as often as he could be on the gravel. It was just one of those days.
Davis was being soft and trying to kiss her, trailing light pressure from her jaw to her mouth. She squirmed. Chloe reckoned she wasn't very good prey. There was this twist of heat in her stomach, a jagged hunger that made her move. His hands slipped and fastened over her hips, finding handholds for when he notched inside. He moved a little and her skin tingled with a twist of affection and too much heat. She could hear him if she tried, garbled mumbles that sounded like sorry, love you, everything. He was feverish with it, she knew, but he thrust a little further against her and she couldn't care. "Keep going." He'd found the right place in fractions of a second, hot and right and practically perfect. She humped between him and the pavement like a stringed doll, keening and puffing louder. He nipped and tugged softly at the back of her neck.
He had fingers in her. Chloe gasped, rocked and bit back a curse at the sharp stone scratching a hole in her elbow. No need to alarm the conscious side of him. Power cut through him like a fissure. It was amazing how he could be in control as he was. Her vision was blurry. He was too much, too hot, hollowing the pit of her stomach with need. It would be easier if she were spent and jellied legged under him, already, but then... she liked to choose the ways she saved the world. That part was easy. She'd chosen him the second she'd felt his heart beating under her hand.
Davis braced his mouth on her hair. Even the primal part of him could tell when she was close, enough to slow and hold her and pant it. Doomsday wanted to be mated, to have something that wouldn't try and destroy it. He wanted her to enjoy it. Chloe bit her lip as she went over, falling, swinging through the low noises in his throat. She felt her lips twitching up in the most inappropriate giggle. Clutching at locks of her hair never helped Davis. That worked better when they were attached to the subject in question.
In cases of sidewalk porn, don't expect plot.
On an unrelated note- I just made a breakthrough on the cracky beast thing... XD Lex learned an eye for an eye. Chloe is sorta 'gray'. Davis has got Catholic sex guilt. The fortress will never be the same again.