Big Red Letters
by Gail (gem225@hotmail.com)
JAG
Clayton Webb/Clark Palmer
Rating: adult
Clay and Clark read in bed, then stop reading, and smut happens - eventually.
Eclipse Snapshot #29.
Disclaimer: None of the characters herein portrayed belong to me.
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.
For Scarlet, who got Clay (and me) to read Society under Siege by Zygmunt Bauman, and for Tinnean, who encourages, no matter what - both true friends.
*****
There's not much better than this: good rare steak and baked potato and not too many green beans for dinner, decaf and music afterwards, even though Clay put on some of that classical stuff that usually puts me to sleep, and now bed with Clay next to me, reading some book or other.
And it's Saturday night, so no work tomorrow unless some asshole calls, and if they do, I'll find a way to deal with them.
Yeah, this is the life.
I turn the page of my book. Porter Webb got me hooked on this Steven Saylor and his mysteries set in Rome, and I've got to find out what happens next. Wonder when Caesar and his guys will show up. I could ask Clay; he'd know. He's a Harvard grad.
I sneak a look at him, but he's lost in his book. What the hell's so great about Society Under Siege? Like no one knew that. Everyone wants to tear things down and rebuild them so they're the kings of creation.
I squint at the back cover. It's a sociology book. What's Clay doing reading this?
I toss my book on the floor and cough.
Clay looks over at me. "Yes, Clark?"
"Let me see your book."
He puts in his bookmark before he hands it to me. "I'll be happy to let you read it once I'm finished. It's - "
I flip through the pages. "Boring." I shut it and toss it after my book. It makes a louder thump than mine did when it hits the floor. At least it's good for making noise.
"I was going to say 'fascinating'."
I snort.
"I wouldn't say that you read enough to judge it intelligently."
"I read enough." God, I hate pretentious crap like that. They want to analyze the world but stay in their ivory towers where it's safe. Like anywhere's safe.
Clay's got that puzzled look on his face, and I want to kiss it away, but I know him. He won't let me, not yet. I'll distract him. "Here - I'll give you the short version. The world's changing and the sociologists are all weepy about it, but they don't want to get left out, so there's their new theory and give them more money for research."
"I wouldn't call that an accurate summary."
"It is too."
"No, it isn't."
"You arguing with me, Clay?"
"No, I'm pointing out the errors in your assumptions."
Fine, whatever. I don't want to argue the stupid book with him. If he wants to read it, let him read it. Maybe Porter recommended it to him. She reads all kinds of books. "You gonna read the whole book tonight to confirm your opinion or get some sleep?" Not that I want him to sleep, but I want him to give up on the book so that I can get my mouth on his and on his cock and see about getting him to fuck me.
He throws back the covers. "I'm going to read the rest of the chapter, then get some sleep."
I scowl as he pads across the floor, picks it up, picks up my book too, and hands it to me before getting back into bed. "Your book sucks, Clay."
"Not as well as you do, Clark."
I drop my book on the floor this time and fold my arms. "Yeah, but you're choosing it over *me*."
He stares at me. "I am? I simply said that I was going to read to the end of the chapter."
"Fine." I unfold my arms and slide my hand under the covers. If he wants to play games, we'll play games, and I'll win. I close my hand around my erection. "Go right ahead, Clay. Knock yourself out. I'll keep myself... occupied."
He closes the book and puts it aside. I won fast this time.
"As a matter of fact, I have something that I've been meaning to discuss with you. Would you mind telling me your job description?"
What the fuck? This is our time. But he's got his serious look on, so I'd better answer as seriously as if we were in his office, and I'd better let go of my erection or I won't be able to. Great way to spend a Saturday night. I should have let him read in peace. Maybe that's the point he's trying to make.
"I read documents written by CIA agents and operatives about existing world conditions, draw conclusions from said documents, and outline operations to correct said conditions when authorized to by the appropriate authority, you." And I don't get to go and make things right myself, but that'll have to change some year.
He nods. "That sounds right."
So is this a pop quiz? I wait to see what he'll say next.
What if the C fucking I fucking A decided to fire me, and Clay was too soft-hearted to tell me but got up the guts now? All right, I can get some kind of work, but I don't want to leave Clay alone there. He needs me.
"And you do a fine job, although some of your conclusions are, well...."
"What?" My job's safe. He wouldn't praise me then fire me. That's not how Clay works.
"Final."
"What's wrong with 'Kill the asshole' as a conclusion?"
"Sometimes it's a fine conclusion, but sometimes it's not, and it seems to be one that you feel is appropriate in most cases."
Because there are tons of assholes in the world and they get in the way. But the CIA doesn't like to hear that, especially not from an ex-DSD agent. "I'll work at finding other conclusions."
"Good. Now, to your presentation of your conclusions. Writing them in big red letters on the front of the document - " He shakes his head.
"You got a problem with that?"
"Company policy is to attach a memo, not write on the documents themselves."
"You give me photocopies." And if he stops doing that, I'll make them myself. I like writing in big red letters, and there's precious little about my fucking job that I *do* like, so I hope he doesn't get all C fucking I fucking A on me and tell me I can't do that.
But I don't say that. I just give him my version of the serious look and hope that we're done soon.
"Yes. But it would be better if you kept to policy, Clark."
Fine. I'll do what the fucking Company wants as long as it's what Clay wants. He's the boss, and I nod to let him know that I know.
"It would also be better if you amended some of your conclusions. 'Bullshit' is questionable, and 'Send me' is not acceptable."
He's not happy with me. I hate that. "Whatever you say. Are we done now?"
"Aren't you curious as to my reasons for objecting to your conclusions?"
"They don't adhere to Company policy. I got it already."
"Like I give a *shit* about Company policy." Now he's more than not happy, he's mad. "What the fuck is with writing 'Send me'? Did I stop being a worthwhile partner somewhere along the line?"
God, I never thought of that. No wonder he's mad. "Hell, no. Dammit, Clay, I'm sorry. I didn't mean - I thought you'd see I was joking - "
He glares at me for a long moment, and I'm about to get out of bed and go home and see if I can think of some way to make this better in the morning, when he nods. "All right." He touches my shoulder. "From now on, if you must write your recommendations in big red letters, make sure that you write 'Send us'. Got it?"
"Yeah, I got it."
"Good. Clark, I'm working on them. At some point, they'll have to stop being assholes and let us out of Langley."
It's been years now I've been cooped up in Langley, and I want out, but he must want out just as much. "Yeah. I know. So I can still write in big red letters?"
"As long as you also send me a proper memo."
"I *do* that."
He finally smiles. "That's true." His finger strokes over my shoulder and down my chest. "It's not good of me to forget."
Hm. He's got that hungry look in his eyes that I remember from some of those weekends I used to spend with him when I was blackmailing him into bed, and I know what to do about that. "No, it isn't." I pull down the covers. "Get your mouth on me and show me you're sorry."
He shuts his eyes, takes a breath, and I wonder if I read him wrong. Then he opens them and that hungry look is still there. Nope, I read him right. "Yes, Clark."
He shifts down the bed and leans over and then his mouth is hot around my cock and oh, yeah, that's my Clay, sucking like there's no tomorrow. I get my hand on his hair.
I'll fuck him if he still has that hungry look when I pull him off, and if he doesn't, I'll suck him off or get him to fuck me.
And I'll never write 'Send *me*' again.
The End
Posted 11/19/03
To read the next Eclipse Snapshot, go to The Clark Who Stole Christmas.
