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Feb. 24th, 2009

New story.

It seems that at the moment my brain will only allow me to write infrequently and in short, but highly creative endevours;-)

Comments appreciated.

Author: Becky

Title: There Is More Than One Way To skin A Bat.

Summary: A leather suit gets more than one type of christening. Chloe/Bruce

Disclaimer: The characters etc are not owned by myself own the words that follow.Unbetad, Ideas sparked from a prompt from a long expired challenge from scoob2222. Thanks.x






“Sorry” I replied

“Talc, in all the right places.........does the job admirably”

“Now, just what exactly are we talking about here Mr Wayne” Was just about the only response I could manage to pour from my lips before they combusted from the heat being generated from his proximity.


That and the fact that the five rather large glasses' of vodka tonic (with lime if you please) were running through this reporter/watchtower/hacker/sidekick/or whatever was required's bloodstream like Bart's feet on a very fine day.


“I thought you prided yourself on the agile nature of your wit or are the synaptic pathways just a little too much under liquid influence this evening Miss Sullivan?”


HA! No one can get the better of Chloe Sullivan even if she is just a little inebriated and thinking about herself to herself in the third person!


Forgoing my attempt to relieve myself of the tight black leather suit that tonight had received it's official christening, I stridently slinked towards the individual whose smirk no longer just covered his eye's. It didn't take more than ten steps to be within a proximity where I knew my breath could be felt brushing against his own. Black leather poured against soft and freshly laundered cotton, leather boots flirted with delicately peach painted toenails, and lips lay a whisper away from touch.


Close enough to sense the quickening of pulse and the flicker of tongue over drying lips. The dilation of pupil, a tensing of muscle that was a reaction to my presence and no other. Even without Clark's talent's I was a woman who knew that in this time and this place I was the one who affected the Bat.


KISS: 1. To make or give salutation with the lips in token of love, respect



Friction of touch, a sensitivity of a particular kind, I was always amazed how it seemed to be so simply defined, when to me it was the epitome of indescribable.


Certainly with this man, like no other before him.


Taking the upper hand I let my gloved hands rise to rest against the stubble that was ghosting under my fingers. Pressing my hips into his own I felt the evidence that he was very markedly affected by me.


Eyes opened and green reflected brown, smile, and sex. Making love was for another occasion, red hot, blood quickening, erotic dream fulfilling sex was clearly on the cards now.


Buttons broke and cleanly laundered met dirty floor. Stubble met soft skin, vodka laced breath mixed with freshly minted, and a woman in charge who clearly knew her man sucked the breath out in a kiss with a man who at this time and this place was certainly not getting the last word.


Stepping back, my breath still within kissing distance of his own I allowed my lips to form a deliberate smirk of my own. With a finale of one last roughly taken kiss I turn and exit the room.


Because as this woman knows: There are more way's than words to skin a cat.........sorry......... BAT!

Sep. 7th, 2008

Late Night Skirmish, smallville/Batman,Chloe/Bruce, prompt Hot Tub

Response to scoob2222's End of Summer Drabble-A-Thon

Title: Late Night Skirmish.

Fandom: Smallville/Batman

Pairing: Chloe/Bruce


Prompt: Hot tub




“You know that we have to stop meeting like this”


“Why exactly would you say that Miss Sullivan?”


As usual his reply gave nothing away, except his unfortunate habit, at least with me that is, to answer my question with a question. Although I had in quiet moments, in the solitude of my bedroom considered the thought that maybe it was more than that, could it be.... no, he most defiantly would never...no. Stop, back-up, reconsider that one Chloe. Still it would be good just to see if little old Chloe Sullivan could rattle the man in black kevlar, whose voice sounded like a gravel driveway and whose ears, well, enough said girls!


Well, you, me and low lighting seem to be coming quite a familiar occurrence just lately.” The only parry I received from that attack was a silent stare, and if it had been able to under the stiff cover, a quirk of an eyebrow. At least I imagine that is what it was doing, I couldn't really be sure.


Or maybe, your here to buy one of these things?” No response received again, save the fact that he remained rooted to the spot next to a rather gaudy example of said product. So, intrepid investigative reporter that I am; I strove on “ I can quite imagine the need after a long, hot, sweaty, night on the big, bad, dirty, streets of Gotham, that a superhero needs to retire to his cave and relax.” Pausing for breath I no longer wait for his response; I'm enjoying this game.


Sooth away the aches, kneed the tension into submission? Although I always find myself, that there is never a substitute for the touch of hot hands over warm flesh” ha! Let him follow that with one of his quick, witty ripostes!


I hadn't, however, noticed that he had responded in his own inimitable way. Stupid, it was never good to let your guard down when he was nearby. Foolish girl, those had been his first words to me, and now I felt it was just a little justified. Feeling his own hot breath on my cheek, an enemy to my mind, my body peaks in response. Fighting the urge to bring my hand up to touch the irresistible, I breath deeply. Slowly, I try in vain to lower my heart-rate and physical response to his presence in my personal space. Kicking myself I cannot stop my eyes raising to match off against his own, and see an answering flicker of attraction echoed there.


Now, now Miss Sullivan, you shouldn't make an offer like that to a man like me”


Taking the challenge in the precise way it was laid down I step closer as I reply “Why, what sort of a man are you?”


It would seem that I am exactly your sort of man Miss Sullivan”


Perfect riposte, damm him, though I have waited a long time to find someone who I enjoyed snarking with quite so much as him. “Are you flirting with me Batman?” Hmm, lets see how he follows that.


Stiff armour leaves a sliver of air between it and soft cotton. Arms press slowly against the wall at my back and lips line up against my own, barely missing the bull's-eye; just as he intended; maximum impact achieved.


When I'm flirting Miss Sullivan, you won't have to ask,” with a lingering open lidded gaze he pushes himself off from the wall with deliberate intent.


Watching his rear as it disappears into the darkness that protects the far side of the warehouse, I can only presume that this skirmish was for the moment stilled. He was probably off to pick up the dealer currently tied to the pipe outside the entrance. Finally able, after about a minute to actually move anything except my eyelids I straighten my blouse, pick up my bag, realign my senses and proceed to follow the prints the bat's boots had left in the sand that served as floor covering.


Hmm, I thought as I left the door to slam behind me, perhaps Bruce Wayne's credit card could take the strain, yeah, I would most defiantly be purchasing one of these baby's tomorrow. Let's just see his rejoinder to a rather gaudy hot tub being delivered to the mansion. After all, a man likes to do anything to please the woman he loves, doesn't he?



Thoughts if anyone is listning,

I normally just post the very occasional story, but ......
I've got a story that keeps on nudging me to start to finish it, but i'm not sure. I have this awful habit of beginning a tale and then not having the time to finish it.
Updates would be very slow and might even stop again, old habits die hard and my life is about to get very busy. Third year of drama school starts in a week.  However it won't stop itching, though I'm a little worried,  I can I think write Chloe, but mystery and the Batman have me very scared!  So I will maybe put  the first chapter up and see if there is any interest and then have a look and see where it goes.

Sep. 5th, 2008




Title: Watching

Paring: Chloe/one of our favourite superhero's . Slight Clark/Lois


Summary: A not so casual observer, watches some rather amourous goings on, atop of a very distinctive Metropolis rooftop.


Authers note: I used a similar premise years ago in my first smallville story and I have due to a rather distinctly slow radio acting class returned to it once again. Comments and critique are greatly appreciated. Enjoy!


I hadn’t realised he was in Metropolis, obviously flying below the radar was called for tonight. My curiosity was piqued, it was, so far a slow night; and a superhero needed something to occupy his time. It wasn't like I was a stalker or anything, it's perfectly resonable that I should observe......from a distance, he could after all at any time need my assistance. This had nothing to do with the betting pool some people had started concerning which lady was now occupiying his spare time. After all, secrets as I have found out from an early age, had the often unfortunate liklyhood of being found out. Especially if one was a member of a small close knit community like a town, or band of crime fighters searching for justice.


I certainly had no thought about winning the pool, I was just looking out for a collegue, a friend, a commrade, or in Bart's words; a fellow amigo.


It also had nothing to do with the fact that I felt he should check in with me everytime he oporated in this city, but it is nice however, to know what’s going on, in, what I have come to consider as my patch. Perhaps certain rodent loving inderviduals were rubbing off onto me more than I would like! I wasn't generally territorial, no, I left that to certain other, shall we say, more morose members of the league. Not that his attitude would ever stop me from venturing into that particular city if I felt it was warranted!


A click and whistle distract me from my thoughts, and I return to observing the crime fighters current preparations. From his actions I can only assume he is imminently mobilising himself to leave the ally we both seem to now occupy. Something I couldn’t fault him on, it absolutely stinks down here, ironically named Summer Passage it was certainly not my preferred choice for a quick changing room. This was the first time I had encountered a friend doing the exact same thing, I was now delaying myself from doing. Sometimes, however, necessity arose and I found myself as I do now, about to switch suits and continue on inside the building. Deadlines were not to be ignored in my line of work, certainly not with an editor or a partner like mine!


Clad in leather, the whisper of wind and the brittle sound of hydraulics raise with almost lightning speed to deposit its cargo on the lip of the uppermost windowsill. Limbering over the protrusion I watch as he retreats from my sight. Sensing the nudge of curiosity I silently slink up behind the rotating globe that emerges from the buildings rooftop.


It's the heartbeat that I recognise in the first instance, with those closest to me it is all I need to locate them. A very useful attribute, when you have friends that get themselves into as many awkward, difficult and in some case humiliatingly hilarious situations as I have. The latter would, if I was of a different nature, mean a had a strong armoury of blackmail ammunition against my closest, and not so close acquaintances.


Next, I hear heels clinking across the concrete firm surface, not that I needed affirmation that there were now three people occupying the area. Her scent though similar to her cousins is invariably individually and to the other occupant of the area irresistibly; Chloe Sullivan.




Well from their current employment it's not only data exchange they are occupied in!


A grown man could be drawn to blush at the ministrations the two were presently engaging in.


Or, as the now more mature and post adolescent Bart would say, “While I looooove the lovage, and would have in my younger days wanted to stay, and you know, watch, could you please, for everyone's sanity and peace of mind, just get a room people!” It's not strange that I seem to know the precise words that young man would utter, he was unofficially, and in every way that mattered my brother. I like to think that I have rubbed off on him just a little bit over the years.

With appallingly, disgustingly, atrociously, and rapt eyes I cannot seem to peel away I view the pair. Leather against soft cotton, a jacket now lying not across her small shoulders but on the hard ground beneath his feet. Hers meanwhile where wrapped around his waist, her hands staked their claim on his form and her lips....... well, it was at this point I looked away.


Although I often observe the vulgarities and particularities of human nature, and have over time begun to feel a little more comfortable with that fact. The weigh of lost privacy still presses upon me. Something, which, I have often had to push to one side, I now feel the dull edge of ill comfort. This is too personal, too intimate a moment to be overlooked by even someone known to the currently courting couple. It seems however, that even I, whom in the general consensus of this cities population is their own private God like being, has a vice after all.


Curiosity, no state the case plain and simple......it was in it's true nature.....Voyeurism.


Jesus, I felt just a little bit dirty....



So familiar in each others company, their bodies seem connected in a way more subliminal than the obviously physical manifestation before my eyes tonight. Giggling and heavy breath splays it’s fingers to my ears, its effervescence echoes through, curling my lips up and causing crinkles to corner my eyes.


Perhaps I should leave them to their seclusion? It was unfair of me to stay here, a thief in the night, stealing their time.


Gently I watch as his fingers brush away the lengths of blonde that disguise her cheek from view. The kiss of palm against palm, lips against lips. Hands roam to areas that would be, most certainly, out of bounds for anyone except those two, who were just a little bit more passionate than should be allowed in public. A quirk of lips and a sign of a smirk from my friends makes me not only wish that I didn't have superhearing, but once again question my presence here; on this rooftop. It wasn't private. Although at this late hour only Lois and a few other Planet workers would nip up to grab the cleaner air provided, it would be difficult to keep this out of the headlines.


I mean, honestly, below them were the offices of some of the finest journalists in this country, and they were obviously intent on keeping their relationship between just the two of them. Or maybe not, if tonight's assignation was anything to go by!


It wasn't that I wasn't a prude or anything!


I have in-fact participated in the exact same occupation on the exact same rooftop, albeit in not quite so progressively passionate a manner.


Something broke my pondering, and I now recognised another very distinctive heartbeat wending, well, shall we say stomping it's way rather assertively towards the open air of the roof..... There was no way I could warn them, but it seemed that it would have been, in this instance however, too much too late!


“Well, well little cousin of mine, while like the next modern female I'm all for women's lib, this little scene.....altogether too liberated for my tastes, at least if one is on the observational end that is.”



Now the shit had really hit the proverbial fan ,and I had it would  seem, have to give up my claim to the betting pool after all.



Sep. 2nd, 2008

Whipped Cream, Sprinkles and Introspection

Whipping cream, sprinkle's and introspection.




Summary: Drabble, sequel to love hearts, heels and other protrusions. Bruce's instincts are always right, but she was a whole different matter entirely.

Thank you to my reviewers and readers, you gave me the encouragment to write this sequel, I'm a bit scared because Bruce is very hard to write, and I always hesitate a little before I post anything including him. he is so great a character that I want to do him justice, hopefull this is a bit of the way towards that.



The first instinct that came to the forefront of his mind before he had even met Chloe Sullivan, was that she was trouble. With not just a capital T, oh no, she was trouble in block, bold, and brilliant letters. He had thought surviving from hand to mouth across the other side of the world was tough, until he met the league of shadows and their master. Then came the Joker, whose fashion sense was of the abstract variety, and whose sanity had, at an early age, quite obviously been left outside in the sun and had thence evaporated away. Next came the torture that was the loss of a woman, whom for him had at that time had been his definition of hope for a different life; a life lived less in the shadows and more in the sunlight.


Swiftly on impossible heels and with a decidedly more monotone choice of dress came the Catwoman; Selina Kyle. Someone who in the dark could be in kindness called a faded beauty, she was of a bygone age where there was honour on the playing field of criminality. For a time she had been a queen, and those beneath her loyal followers. Selina Kyle was a woman that you should never shake hands with, her talons should most definitely be put on the FBI's list of ten most wanted. It was upon the entrance of this particular pest, that she had shortly after arrived. That she was named Chloe Sullivan, freshly employed Gotham reporter, who came with just a few ulterior motives.


Obstinate, Bruce Wayne hated that.


Challenging, and not in the right way either!


Snarky, now most men like a bit of friction; but only in the correct situation.


Perky, pesky, prevaricating, bold, fearless, confrontational, caffeine addicted, workaholic, brave, beautiful, they're were millions of ways to describe her, but in her purest essence she couldn't be pinned down.


Oh, yeah....... she was TROUBLE!


For him, however, she was his trouble and that was perfection, at least in his dictionary. It had taken him a short time to realise this fact, but much longer to admit it to anyone, least of all himself.




It got worse.....


Life as he knew it was over, well and truly.


No one knew him like her, no one saw him quite the same way as she did. He never allowed anyone to see him as she did, not even Alfred. The real truth was he had never been this way with anyone before, or since. Not that he was going to admit that to anyone but her. Even then he had only done it under very direct and decidedly undignified persuasion. It had left him at her mercy many times, this one being a case in point.


Now there were going to be more....


They were going to be crawling, crying, crapping and, oh yeah....... smelling; and dear sweet heaven and all that was sacred....... Batman and babies just did not mix.


Bruce Wayne, however, husband of Chloe Wayne....................

Now that was a whole different matter entirely!


With a slight pursing of his lips, (it wouldn't do to show too much to those currently, and quite sensibly silently observing this present scene) Batman laid down his weapon and in a quick, and to his ears reassuringly commanding way, vacated room seventeen.


“Man, the bat, now he is soooooo whipped”


“With sprinkle's amigo, with chocolate multi--coloured sprinkle's!”



Aug. 29th, 2008

Chloe/Bruce inspiration.

Love Hearts, heels and other protrusions.



Title:Love hearts, heels and other protrusions.

Pairings: Chloe/Bruce


Summary: Only she has the power, the one with the strength, skills and knowledge to bring him to heel.



It was a slow day at the office, everyone knew it. Clark knew it, Diana knew it, Bart knew it, God damm even Ollie knew it. HE, however, didn't.


In situations like this she was sent in; with sleeves rolled up to rectify the situation. The problem in question was big, black and had two rather distinctive protrusions emerging from his headgear. Chloe sighed and calmly lowered the pen to the desk and smiled at the love heart doodles that marked the once plain paper. It was no use, inspiration wasn't forthcoming and she had other work to do.


Namely, bowing to pressure and heading into the fray.


Who would have thought that she would ever be the one to tame the untamable, but then she had always been more curious than afraid of him. She was also one of only two people, living that is, that knew his weaknesses.


In this case she was going to start with the big guns, no point going in easy.


Sliding her feet from underneath her, she lowered them into the teal blue heels that had served her well for many years. They had been a present to herself upon winning her first, and presently, only Pulitzer. Liberating her her hair from it's ponytail, checking her face in the screen in front of her, raising her torso so the rest of her followed she walked with intent towards room seventeen.


Heels bounced their reverberations from wall to wall.


Arms swung determinedly.


Thoughts fixed on the task in hand.


Pressing her index finger to the sensor at the door, lining her retina to the laser she straightened her back as she anchored her pupils on the object of the leagues disoncerment.


Slipping two fingers in-between her smirk Chloe blew air into a sharp sound that caught everyone, including his attention. Five eye's snapped to her form silhouetted in the doorway.


“This is a training exercise, you will vacate this area until the session is concluded.”


Chloe had discovered that the voice of his alter-ego never usually failed to cause her to become aroused, but it could be for a variety of reasons and not just of the obvious sexual connotation. This time it was with slight ire that she replied in a tone of voice that he, in turn meant that he was in for in Barts words, deep shit.


“Hopefully you wont be saying the same thing in seven months when my waters break Batman,” she riposted with a quirk of her eyebrow.


Not quite how she wanted to tell him, but still, sometimes her tongue moved before her brain.


Silence echoed..... literally.


With a turn she let her shadow move back towards their quarters.

Let him ignore her after that!







Jun. 22nd, 2008

A new story at last:-)

The quiet before the storm.

Title: The quiet before the storm

Ratings: PG

Pairings: Chloe/A certain leather clad hero

Summary: Chloe ponders upon the man who’s head currently resides in her lap.

Notes: Unbetad, so my dyslexic tendencies may show through, any feedback appreciated. Thanks.


Nobody knew, it was her little intimate and indulgent secret. Obsession wasn’t the word for it, neither was fantasy; because she didn’t imagine how it might be between them. No, no, she certainly wasn’t a lovesick teenager. Appreciation was perhaps a more appropriate word; even then it never seemed to encapsulate her specific, exact, precise, immediate or enduring feelings for him. 


For someone who had for a long time considered wordsmithing to be her predominant future occupation, this predicament was embarrassing. Not that anybody would be allowed to discover her dark and dastardly secret. Or perhaps they would? Fate could pack a big fat punch when it felt so inclined, and hers were often more frequent than others. If certain quarters found out, then the shit in varying consistencies, and of a wildly aromatic persuasion would hit the great big, target sized fan as quickly as an arrow. Ruminations of this nature were allowed infrequently in her present world, well for much of her life really. Her creative imagination had often lead her into dangerous situations rather than ponderings of her own place in the universe.


The teams carefully laid plans quickly needed to bear fruit, yet at this moment there was a calm. Natures little marker that a storm was waiting in the wings, and she hoped to everything and everyone that those closest to her would weather it. She had, however, learned long ago that life wasn’t a harlequin novel, not everyone would escape unscathed by the approaching tempest.


Gentle movement against her thighs altered the path of her thoughts towards the man resting against her body. Outwardly he rarely displayed anything other than a relaxed rich boy persona, a man in control of his business and life. Well, in public situations that was, privately it has been known for the dragon to shoot fire.  A dragon that at this precise moment lay slumbering with his head in her lap. Cliché it may be, but there was a reason situations like this were gathered under that umbrella. She fully intended to indulge in the advantages of this particular one.


Calm even breaths assured her that she wouldn’t be disturbed in her perusal. Pure and unadulterated pleasure or, as close to it as she was likely to experience anytime soon awaited her.  The late hour accounted for the purple haze lingering around the room. Stacey Kent cast her sultry breath into the air, and cinnamon from the baking apples perfumed the ether. Stronger than this was his presence. Strength; curved and hard pressed itself into both the sofa and her. His physique in the humid atmosphere glazed like Mrs Kent’s sweet confections.


Lashes, unashamedly and outrageously long brushed his cheek. Lids shaded eyes that enjoyed teasing her dreams more often than not; damn them! Lips, pink perfections she ached to touch and smooth her own against, now rested slightly parted and relaxed. She enjoyed watching them in motion, especially when they snarked with her own. Smiling she remembered with joy the opening parry in their latest volley, he’d won that particular round; but only just!


Languorously she let the pads of her fingers create friction against his skin. Gliding down and over his shoulder, drawing an imaginary line past the elbow, to slip into palms resting on abdominal's akin to those of Michelangelo’s David, and deserving of multiples of gold medals. 


Months ago with certain calluses those hands had rested on her face with a positive pressure, releasing her from exile of human touch. In her imprisonment the worst torture had been the loss of physical contact. That was the worst pain, bruises and breaks had been endurable, bearable even; the other hadn’t. Her captors had in her opinion practised upon her the true monarch of persecution- absence of touch.


Eyes had locked with hers. Arms had gathered bones almost bare of their fleshy protection close to the warmth and safety of his own. In the rush of the escape, that moment had been the only one she had remembered in perfect and precise detail. Her own guardian knight in tight leather had rode to her rescue. Who cared if his steed had swapped favours with wheels, turbo engine and a can of green paint?


That day she hadn’t cared a damn.


This day and any future day she wouldn’t care a damn either!


“The way you’re caressing my hand could lead a guy to think you had thoughts of an amorous nature”


“Yeah, well look who fell so easily into my lap Queen!” I shot back at the now wide-eyed object of my ruminations.


A languid smile and a light from his eyes were the only reply I received for some considerable time.


Minutes faded to an hour.


My thoughts felt loud enough to bounce boomerang like off the walls.


“Have you ever considered that perhaps that was my original intention Sullivan?”



Feb. 24th, 2008

Watchtower Wonderings

Title: Watchtower Wonderings
Rating: Over 16
Pairing Chloe/?
DIsclaimer: None of the characters are mine only the situations and the words surrounding them.

This is my first offering here and I'm a little nervous, firstly because there are so many fine storys here, secondly because this though checked by myself is unbeta'd and as a dyslexic, grammer and spelling are not always my strongest areas:-)
However, constructive critisism is welcome and recieved generoudly, this is a one shot and due to hectic scheduals future offerings will if wanted be infrequent. I did so want to post something though, as payment for all the amazing things I have read here since I joined.