She had to be sure. She had to make sure it really had been a dream.
Chloe grabbed a robe - not the gold one - and threw it on over her cotton pj's. She tucked her feet into slippers and quietly made her way out of her apartment. It was the middle of the night and the building was silent except her quiet footfalls and a ticking clock. She made her way to the basement door.
There she paused. The door would be locked. She didn't want to wake Davis if he was sleeping. He seemed to sleep so poorly most nights. Also, if he was sleeping, then that would prove the dream a lie just as well. She decided on a very soft knock and quiet call of his name.
A moment later, she heard the bolt slide back. The door opened a fraction and a single deep brown eye appeared. When he had confirmed it was her, Davis opened the door wider.
"Chloe? What's wrong? It's the middle of the night." His expression was concerned.
Chloe swallowed hard, but noted Davis' clothes. A navy tee and dark gray sleep pants. No black. No dress clothes.
Still, her voice was slightly choked as she asked, "Is it OK if I come in, Davis?"
He blinked, but stepped back. "Yeah, yeah. Of course. Come on down."
No candles or roses red as blood. Just the bedside lamp on. A book lay facedown on the cot. She carefully made her way down the steps, a sudden awareness pricking between her shoulder blades as Davis trailed behind.
As she climbed down the stairs, she suddenly realized she was breaking their silent protocol. For the second time today.
It was the middle of the night, and she had just knocked on his door and asked to enter his lair in her pj's. Her footsteps slowed, then stopped on the stairs. Maybe she should go. It had been just a dream. That was obvious now. She wasn't going to find Clark's bloody torso. All she had found was Davis quietly reading by bedside light.
Yes, she should definitely make an excuse and leave.
So why wasn't she?
Because you don't want to be alone...
She was confused and lost and... she just didn't want to go.
So instead she found herself making her way over to Davis' cot. As she passed the stacks of old films that led deeper into the basement, she glanced over, but there was no blood.
Just a dream. Even the parts where Davis had...
No. Best not to think of that.
She sat down on the cot.
Davis hadn't said a word since she asked to come in. He just watched her with anxious eyes, waiting for an explanation.
Chloe picked up the book that lay on the covers next to her.
A Tale of Two Cities.
It had been an assigned book for English class sophomore year at Smallville high. She had actually really liked it, so it had been on her limited bookshelf. She had brought it down for Davis.
"It was the best of times. It was the worst of times..." she declared, forcing her voice to be more light and cheerful.
Davis quirked a slightly confused smile, but let her set the conversation. "Yes, seems appropriate actually."
The words were out before she could stop them. "What do you mean?"
Davis sat down next to her on the cot. The long fingers of one hand just a hair's breath from her own. He looked at her in that head down tilted way of his. It made him seem slightly puppyish. "Well, the worst of times part is pretty obvious." His eyes rolled around to indicate the dark basement around them.
"As for the best of times..." His voice dropped to a whisper. "There's you."
She wasn't sure how to reply, but Davis wasn't done. "And, the hero gives his life for the happiness of his love."
His eyes lifted to meet hers.
Love. Now it was him breaking the rules.
His brown eyes were so full of emotion she had a hard time identifying all of them.
"I would do anything for you Chloe. Even die. Again. But with this thing inside me..."
Sher placed a finger over his lips, stopping the words. Pain, desperation, fear, love...they all shone in Davis' eyes.
She wondered what he saw in her eyes.
Then she knew why she hadn't turned away as soon as the cobwebs of the dream had been torn asunder. Her dreams had tried to tell her before the fear had taken over. Inside she knew what she wanted, needed.
She was tired of the lying, tired of the fear, tired of feeling alone and lonely. She found herself moving without thinking.
Davis had given himself to her once before as a balm, as a comfort. Torn between passion and fear, she found herself in desperate need for that again.
Chloe moved so she was straddling him where he sat on the cot. His expression was beautiful. Hope, joy, and love suffused his features as his eyes warmed. She placed her hands on either side of his face and leaned down to kiss him softly on the mouth. There were no secrets or lies in the kiss.
Davis strong arms wrapped under hers and his hands clasped on her shoulders. Holding her firmly so she wouldn't tip back off his lap.
The kiss she gave him was soft and her lips were open, teasing and inviting his. His lips fitted with hers with his mouth also slightly parted. She could feel the exhales of his breath across her tongue and knew he would be feeling hers the same way.
Shared pain. Shared isolation. Shared breath.
And as the intensity as the kisses increased - shared need.
She needed this. Lines and rules be dammed. She needed this contact. Needed this release. In a way, she was using him, but Davis had been the only one to ever make her feel this way. She needed him.
As his hands shifted to roam her body, bright flashes of memory hit her. Other times those hands had been on her. Other times the fires had burned this hot. Other times those molten eyes of his had threatened to consume them both.
And it changed.
It was no longer about fear and comfort. It was about heat and need. It was that primal drive that only he had ever made her feel.
All finesse was gone now for both of them.
"This doesn't change anything about our relationship, Davis," she gasped as her hands tugged at his shirt.
"I know." He mouthed around her breast.
"Davis, we can't go back to how it was." His shirt now gone, her hands slid down his chest to his waist.
"I know." His hands moved to the cotton of her pajama shorts.
"It wasn't real." She was fumbling at the buttons on the fly of his sleep pants.
"You're wrong, Chloe." He stretched the fabric of her pajama shorts and, using his thumbs, tore right through the fabric.
"It was based on a lie." His hardness sprung free.
"Just because it was based on a lie, doesn't mean it wasn't real." He grabbed her and lifted her up. "This was always real." With a single push, he was home.
Chloe let out a cry and wrapped her legs around him.
Davis thrust into her hard, desperate, claiming. Chloe was his, no matter what she said. And he would make damn sure she knew it.
Her body was crashing frantically up and down on his as his hips pulsed up into her. There was nothing tender or gentle now, as he slammed into her, almost punishingly. Each hard push marking her as his. He would burn himself into her flesh, into her soul. He knew he was destined for hell eventually, but Chloe was his own personal heaven.
Chloe sank her teeth into Davis' shoulder. Hard. She was well beyond reason now. Everything was raw and animal and desperate. Her body didn't just accept his, she demanded everything he had. Her body growing tight and grasping around his, an almost painful pressure built behind her eyes. The hard, frantic pace of their crashing bodies rushed towards supernova.
Just when she didn't think she could take any more, Davis' hands grasped her hips and pressed her down hard as his back and hips arched up, filling her to the breaking point.
So she broke.
She screamed loudly and echoingly even with her teeth clenched on him. The sound she made one part pain and three parts pleasure as her body tensed and shook. She was aware of Davis' own cry, full of pain, release, and primal claim. She felt him burst inside of her before everything went black.
Chloe didn't know how long she blacked out, but it couldn't have been too long. Her body was still having aftershocks. Waves of rolling sensation still moving through her in delicious bursts. Every time they rolled through her and she shuddered, she felt Davis quiver in reaction, both under her hands and inside her.
It took a long time for it to finally end.
When it did, she couldn't meet his eyes. She climbed off him, aware of the ruined state of her shorts and the stickiness of her thighs.
She felt Davis watching her, but he didn't say a word. She sensed more than saw him putting his pants back to rights. Though she couldn't stop herself from peeking. Davis had a beautiful cock.
She turned away slightly and spoke softly. "I'm sorry, Davis. I shouldn't have done that. It won't happen again."
She turned to leave, but he was fast. He was standing before her, and gripped her arm gently. "Chloe. Talk to me. What happened?"
She finally brought her eyes up to meet his. She felt the tears burning at the edges.
What had she done? She had risked everything. Complicated everything, because she couldn't separate her feelings for him.
The world depended on keeping Davis in control of Doomsday, and she had come down and jumped him for a quick f*** because she needed it. Because she needed to connect. Because she needed him to need her for something other than keeping the monster in line.
The words came out choked. "I can't, Davis."
His eyes became hard. "You can't what, Chloe?"
And she realized her poor choice of words. "I can't talk about this right now. I -". She swallowed again. "I don't know why I did that. I just... needed it. Needed you. But I shouldn't have. I'm sorry. I have to go."
She pulled her arm free and dashed out of the basement.
Davis remained below, standing in the warm glow of light from the lamp watching her go.