Eternal, Chloe stays in the basement with Davis and tries to stop mourning him. Warning: M rating for sexuality.
Davis has barely spoken, his voice husky and low since she found him here. Chloe doesn't remember if five minutes or fifty passed- only that he's supposed to be saying it some other way. Not like this, not like it's a death sentence. Stay . Please.
She touches him first, tastes the pain hot in his throat. His mouth notches to hers, trembling her lips with wet, unnaccustomed heat. It's not a thing she can soothe. Not a thing she can stop.
She hasn't stop missing Davis since he died and maybe this is why she bruises her own knees on the weave of the bedspread, trying obscure the way his eyes hurt her now, the ashamed gentleness of his hands stripping her down.
Chloe fancies she can hear the beast rumbling through his naked heartbeat against her back. His cock burns at her ass, harder and cruder and more than anything with Jimmy ever could have been. If Davis thrusts too hard she can take it, take it and give back to him for once.
His lips scatter heat on her shoulder and she gnaws into her lip. The gesture is like the old Davis, the one with the hope inside him still. Davis's knuckles are digging into her back, not much, not a little- pressed hot against the screaming in her heart.
It's dark, but out there is where the terrors lie- the green stained floors that were witness to the fading red in his eyes, the dead weight of his body. He strains, opening her up, but that is nothing now- nothing to the tearing hole in her world. She's still mourning him, somehow.
Chloe hides her face in her hands, takes in tiny catching breaths as he begins to move in earnest. Davis presses his cheek against her shoulder, holds her still with the steady pressure of teeth. It's comforting, as he takes her like this. Almost enough, almost brutal... Until her lungs strain at his weight, the thickness of his thrusts, and her body plummets hard. Beautiful, easy, just like she knew it'd be.
When he comes, he chokes out her name. He must need her on her knees or at least to fold up in his arms as when his breath hitches. There is a small shaft of light peering through the keyhole as Davis draws her hand up and nibbles the saline from her fingers.