Bedroom
by Gail (gem225@hotmail.com)
JAG
Clayton Webb/Clark Palmer
Rating: adult
Clayton finally brings Clark to his bedroom.
Disclaimer: The JAG characters are owned by Belisarius Productions and CBS, not me. The X-Files characters are referred to are owned by CC, Ten Thirteen, and Fox. I don't own Superman, either, and it's just a reference. I'm not making any money off this story.
Please do not archive this story without asking me first. It's more than likely that I'll agree, but I want to know where my stories are.
This is yet another PWP/Snapshot (#7) set in my Eclipse universe, where Clayton Webb and Clark Palmer became lovers when Clark blackmailed Clayton into bed. Over time the whole blackmail issue was resolved, and now they're together because they want to be. This would take place sometime after part 10.
This is for Alex, since it was invoked by her plea for me to tell her when this happened, and for Athea, who needed an Eclipse fix. Tinnean read it and told me to post right away, for which I thank her even though I waited. Any and all errors are still my doing.
*****
He puts away the last dish and stretches. "God, I'm tired, Clay. How about bed?"
I make him wait for his answer while I spray the sink clean and wipe up the excess water. He watches with an amusement at my actions that he doesn't even bother to hide. I know that he thinks it's foolish to waste time on cleaning a sink when there's TV to watch or bed to go to, but he'll keep quiet, since it matters to me. Clark's a lot more relaxed now that Harm's out of the picture.
Harm. I still don't like thinking about him, but I know it'll get better. He's made up his mind to want a family and a wife, and he's going to have that. I don't think he'll be happy, but then he wouldn't have been happy with me. Clark and I have more in common, and Clark doesn't care what anyone thinks. And he's perfectly willing to put up with keeping this a secret. I can live without Harm. I am living without him. With Clark.
"Well? Bed?" he prompts as he hands me the dishtowel, and I hide a smile. He's impatient. I like seeing him like that. It tells me that he's being honest with me, not trying to hide what he feels any longer. I know he used to. I did pay attention to him. I just didn't put all the clues together until I was ready to. I'm not as a good a spy when it's my own life.
"I suppose a good night's sleep would be a good idea."
He gives me an even more exasperated look. "Aren't you sleeping well? Damn it, Clay, if there's something wrong, I wish to hell you'd tell me." Then his face gets worried. "Are you feeling all right?"
He really is worried about me, but there's no need. "Fine. Just tired. I do get tired, Clark. I'm not Superman."
At that and my smile, he relaxes. Strange to see him get so worried, but it is nice. He tosses off everything if it's him, but let it be me and he's ready to go to the hospital.
"Right, you're Skinner."
I just look at him for that one. That show again. I swear he'd watch it all day, every day, if I let him. He doesn't even care if we watch them in order, and we certainly haven't. I suppose it doesn't really matter, since I know that it's just a show, not reality.
"Or don't you want to be Skinner?"
"I want to go to bed," I try again. And I don't want to talk about who I want to be from the X-Files now. In the morning, or the middle of the night, maybe I'll feel like going along with him on this one. I look more closely at him. He does look tired. "Are you all right?" I put my hand on his shoulder, and he gives me a smile.
"I'm not Superman either." The smile turns into a grin. "Not even Krycek."
"You're Clark." I can hear the gentleness in my voice, the *tenderness*, and it still surprises me. The way he stays very still and just looks at me doesn't. Clark's very good at knowing when to shut up at the right moment.
"All yours," he says after a moment, and I squeeze his shoulder and take my hand away. "All right, bed." He yawns. "No work tomorrow. I'm sleeping in."
That sounds good to me, and I start down the hall, with Clark beside me. When we get to my bedroom, he keeps going, but I put out my hand to stop him. "Where are you going?"
"Our room," he says simply. I've never heard him call it that before, and it almost makes me change my mind.
"That's the guest room." I wait for him to figure this out, but he's giving me a look that I can't read at all, except that it's closed off and wary. "You're not a guest." Now I'm wondering if this is a good idea. I've only slept with Harm in this room, and that didn't happen too many times, but I want Clark here now. But not if it's going to upset him. If the guest room is 'our room', then we can go there.
"I'm not?" He's still giving me that look.
"No." I wait. If he doesn't want to sleep in my room, of course we won't. But I can't tell what he needs.
"Rabb used to sleep there?"
"Yes." I'm not going to lie to him.
"He used to fuck you in there?"
Now I know he didn't have a bug in my house. "He never fucked me, Clark," I say in a low voice.
"Never?" His face is blank.
"I don't lie to you."
"And you want me in your bed." His voice is that dark one I know so well. He's clearly over whatever was bothering him. "Me."
I'm not so damned tired now. "You."
He smiles slowly and takes a step toward me. "You've got me."
He comes into my arms and pushes his crotch against mine, and god, he's hard, as hard as I am. He's panting, twisting his head down to kiss me, and it's what I want, too. It's like we're making it for the first time in a while, and that's fine.
Somehow we get into the bedroom and fall on the bed. His hands are under my clothes now, finding all the good spots, showing me how well he knows me, and he knows me so very well. "Want you so damned much," he breathes as his fingers tease my nipples, and I know he means it. "Please, Clay."
"How?" I mean, how does he want me, and he gets it.
"Fuck me." His eyes are so dark now. "Fuck me like you did the first time. I want that all over again."
"Then get down and suck me," I order, remembering the first time in the other room, and he groans and moves so that he can. He doesn't say another word, just gets my cock out so carefully, as though it'll vanish if he handles it roughly, then takes it into his mouth in one quick motion. Now I'm the one groaning. Clark's mouth is hot and certain, and I know that I won't last long if I let him keep going.
He must sense that, because he stops, then gets out of his clothes so quickly, and I get mine off, too. They end up in a pile on the floor, but I don't care. I've got Clark's eyes on me, his hands, his mouth, and he's hard for me. We're in just as much a tumble on the bed as the clothes are on the floor. I don't care about that, either. I just want him. Want him any way I can get him. He's so damned good.
"Clay, fuck me," he whispers, and that makes me even harder. His lips fasten on my neck. "Please fuck me." His voice is so desperate. I love doing that to him. He's all mine.
I manage to pull back, though it's hard, and try to remember if I have any lube in here. I can't even think.
Then Clark's pushing something into my hand. "Right here," he says quietly, and I remember that I bought some of the kind he likes. "Want to watch me get myself ready?"
He knows that I like that. I nod. "Do it," I say, and my voice is almost unrecognizable. "Get yourself ready for me to fuck you."
He smiles and takes the bottle back from me. "Like saying that, don't you? I like hearing it. You should fuck me more. Fuck me any time you want. You know I'll let you." He's saying this and putting lube on his fingers, getting up on his knees and pushing his fingers into himself, and still talking, although when his fingers push in, his voice stops for a moment. "You can tell me to do anything, Clay. Any damned thing at all."
I swallow. I know he means that, but I don't know if he knows how it feels to hear him say it, to know that I could do anything that I might think of. How strange it feels to believe him. What wouldn't he let me do? Is there anything? Do I want to find out?
"Anything? You can't mean that." I want him to tell me that he'd make sure I didn't kill him, not that I'd do that, that he has limits like any sane person. But there are times when I'm pretty sure that Clark isn't sane. Doesn't mean he's crazy, just that he has different rules from the rest of the world. It makes being with him...interesting. The Chinese curse of an interesting life, and I've got it. I don't find him a curse.
"I don't lie to you, Clay. What do you want that you don't want to tell me? Is there something?"
"No. Nothing."
"Whatever you want, I'll do it." He pulls out his fingers and wipes them on his leg. "Just tell me."
"I told you what I want. Now get ready."
I wait for him to get on his hands and knees, but instead he pulls down a pillow and puts it under his ass as he stretches out on the bed. "Fuck me like this, please. I want to see your face when I make you come." His eyes are glittering. "I want you to fuck me hard, so hard that I feel it for days. Want you to fuck me like you never fucked Rabb."
Is it still about being better than Harmon Rabb for Clark? I think so. I'm not going to play this game.
"Rabb's gone. Stop talking about him." I should shut up, but damn, he's pushing me. "If I wanted Harm back, I'd go get him." I would? I would. I'd get him, too.
Clark's smiling. "Well, that's better." He spreads his legs farther apart, inviting me to fuck him. "Yeah, guess you would at that. We both know you could get him if you tried. So you must want me." The fierceness in his voice amazes me. How in hell is it that *I* mean so much to Clark Palmer?
But I do, and I like that I do, and he means a lot to me.
I get between those legs, put them up on my shoulders and put my cock up to his hole. "I want you. So stop talking, unless you have something intelligent to say, and you damned well better not."
He starts to laugh, then it turns into a sound I don't recognize as I push into him. So tight, but my cock just slides in. He arches up to take more.
I should have brought him in here months ago, but I wasn't ready. I didn't even think about it. I thrust in and out of him. He's moving with me, his face so intent, as though he's going to make sure this goes well. I don't want him like that. I slam into him harder, and he gasps, and now, yes, that look is gone. He's just here. He's not thinking. I let myself stop thinking, too, and just fuck him. He loves when I fuck him, and I love doing it. And we're here, in my room, where I'll get to sleep nights when he's not here, and I'll be able to remember this. I'll never tell him, but there were nights when I went and slept in the guest room because I didn't want to be alone, and in there I could pretend that he was beside me. Pathetic, but I needed it. Now I won't have to do that.
He's moaning now, and I get my hand down to see that he comes with me. There's no way I'm letting him get left behind, and I know that I'm close. I don't want to wait.
And then I don't have to. Clark's sharp cry cuts through the air as my groan starts. I can't help coming when I feel him tighten around me. I've had him so many times, and it's always incredible. I can't imagine wanting anyone else as long as I have him.
I pull out of him, hand him tissues, get myself cleaned off. The same as we always do, except this time we're in my bedroom. We should have been here all along. I should have taken Harm into the guest room. He was the guest, not Clark. Clark belongs here.
I get under the covers and pull Clark in with me when he hesitates. "Night," I whisper and tighten my arms around him for one moment, then let him go.
"Night." His voice is as quiet as mine. "Thank you."
"No need for that. You belong here."
"If you say so."
He ends the conversation by turning on his side, but we both know I'm right. And we're both here, so nothing else matters.
The End
Posted 1/28/01
To read the next Eclipse Snapshot, go to Storm.
