Detective Frazier's Revenge
by Gail (gem225@hotmail.com)
JAG
Clayton Webb/Clark Palmer
Rating: adult
Detective Frazier returns and enacts a revenge.
Eclipse Snapshot #23, sequel to Investigating Detective Frazier
Disclaimer: If they were mine, there would be all Palmer and Webb episodes, and Rabb would lose more cases. So they're not mine.
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.
Warnings: D/s games.
For Karen, who loves Webb-stories, even mine :-) Happy birthday, Karen. (4/20/02) Tinnean read it in progress, and Elizabeth and Scarlet beta'd.
*****
"Working hard, I see, Palmer. Good."
"Webb." Shit, I didn't even hear him come in. I stand and fix my attention on Clay, who's smiling as he closes the door to my office. What is he doing here? He knows I'll come to him.
He's got on his usual three-piece suit and looks damned good in it, but there's a sparkle in his eyes that isn't normal for him here at the fucking CIA. What's got him so happy? Do we get to go on a mission finally? That would be great. I glance at the monitor. Six-o-three. Maybe he's here to tell me to stop work and go home, which would mean come home with him.
"I received a call today about you." He sits in the chair in front of my desk, and I sit as well when he motions to me to do so. "A complaint, to be accurate."
Fuck. Who's pissed now? Some half-brained CIA shit? I grimace. I don't even know what I did. Well, Clay will tell me, and he won't let anyone else ream out my ass. That belongs to him, and he knows it. Hope he's not too pissed, but then he still looks like somebody told him a really good secret. I hope he'll tell me what it is, but first this complaint. Dammit.
"I'm sorry to hear that, sir." Damn, that just slipped out. But he doesn't say anything about my improper address.
"Yes. I trust you had good reason to," he pauses, "manhandle Detective Frazier?" His face is as serious as if we're discussing some threat to national security.
Oh. So this is about the good detective. The smartass, smart-mouthed, cocky Detective Rick Frazier whose ass I warmed and fucked in my persona as 'Special Investigator Seed'. Clay wants to play again. Interesting. I don't let myself smile, but my attentive look should give him all he needs.
"Excellent reason, sir."
That 'sir' gets me a look. "He's asked to meet with you. I accepted on your behalf."
"You're the boss." I wonder what he wants this time. Probably to fuck my ass, but we'll see about that. "Any advice on how to handle the detective?"
"It's important that we have decent relations with the local police departments, Palmer."
Ah. "Did the detective tell you what I did to him?" He's dropped the 'Special Investigator Seed' thing, so I will, too. It's more fun to pretend I beat and fucked Detective Frazier.
"Intermixed with the profanity, yes."
He frowns, but I want to laugh. This is insane, talking about a game we played that got wild as if it really happened to other people, when we both know damned well it didn't, but hell, if that's what Clay wants, no problem. "And you disapprove of my conduct, sir?"
"I wouldn't say that, but I wouldn't say that I approved, either. I want this situation resolved, Palmer, and I don't want any more phone calls complaining about your conduct." He reaches into his pocket and takes out a folded slip of paper. "Be at this address by eight."
I take the slip from him and unfold it. He's written 'our bedroom' on it, and I smile. Yeah. Our bedroom. In his place that sometimes feels like our place. "Of course. I'll make peace with the detective." Which will mean, I'm sure, getting fucked by him, but I'm sure Detective Frazier knows how to fuck. I can take what he wants to give me. "You can count on me, sir."
"Good." He stands, and I stand, too. "Report to me in the morning."
I wonder if he'll want an account of my meeting with Detective Frazier, and if so, how detailed an account he'll want. "Yes, sir."
He nods, then leaves, shutting the door firmly behind him. I sit back down and give myself a minute to take it all in. Clay wants to play again, wants me to make things right with Detective Frazier, and, knowing the detective, he'll want to give as much as he got. More, even. So I'm sure to be fucked and maybe beaten, but I don't think so. Clay didn't look too damned comfortable about that idea when I brought it up last time, and that's fine with me.
I stare at the monitor, then start shutting down. The hell with work. I want to get out of here. It's not that long until eight.
*****
I get to Clay's place by ten of eight and let myself in. I don't see him, but I know he's around, probably in the bathroom or the bedroom. I'll wait in the kitchen until it's time to meet Detective Frazier. I decide to have a drink. Clay won't mind.
I pour myself a shot of scotch and sip it. Detective Rick Frazier. Likes pushing around suspects, likes being in control, likes it rough. Is pissed enough about last time to bitch to my boss, for god's sake, but didn't take it to the cops. Hm. Wonder if this is Frazier's way of asking for another go? No, probably not, but it's a nice thought.
I finish the shot and check my watch. Eight o'clock. I leave the shot glass by the sink and head for the bedroom.
The door is closed, of course, so I knock. No response. I knock again, and this time the detective opens it.
"Well, well, if it isn't the CIA agent who fucked up."
He's got the mustache and goatee on again, and of course the leather jacket. My cock was interested when I walked into the house; hell, *before* I walked into the house; but it snaps to attention at the sight of him and the memories of our last time together that sight brings.
He looks me up and down. "Your boss sounded pissed, Palmer. Didn't count on me going to him, did you?"
He's trying to get under my skin, and doing a decent job of it, too. "May I come in, or did you want to have this conversation where anyone could come along and hear it?"
He moves out of the doorway. "There's not much to discuss. You fucked up, and I'll bet your boss told you to apologize to me." He's got a smug smile on his face. "So apologize." He shuts the door. "Now."
"Mr. Webb told me to meet with you. The rest is up to me." Cocky cop. But damn, he looks good, and that leather always gets to me.
He laughs. "Up to you? Oh, right, like last time." He takes a step toward me. "You owe me, Palmer, and I'm here to collect."
Yeah, I thought so. "And you think I'm going to let you do what you want with me?"
"Yeah. I think you're going to do anything I want, because otherwise I tell your boss you came over and ran that same shit on me."
Nice touch. I lean against the wall and see him look me over. Yeah, I thought the detective would appreciate me in my leather jacket and jeans and t-shirt, and his crotch shows that he does. I could just give in, but he's going to have to work a little harder. I deserve the effort.
"You jerk around any suspects lately, Detective?"
He takes another step toward me. "I'm the best at what I do. You wouldn't last a minute on the streets of Boston."
God, I love seeing Clay this cocky. "I've survived the streets of Cairo and Rome and Paris. I think I could handle Boston." He didn't answer the question, of course, but I wouldn't have, either.
He laughs. "Sure thing, Palmer. Come up and see us. I'll give you a guided tour."
"And show me the best parts, I'm sure. No, thanks." I want to fuck him now, but I know I'll end up taking it. Not that I'll have a problem with that. "So you want an apology? Fine. I'm sorry I beat you and fucked you and got you off." I give him a smile with the memory of him stripped and cuffed on my bed in it. "Better?"
He laughs again. "You're not even close to sorry, but that's fine. I don't need you sorry. I need you stripped." He folds his arms and waits, but I don't move. Why rush? I'm having fun listening to Detective Frazier mouth off. Never knew my Clay had it in him, but he does. "Do it. Or I'll rip the damned clothes off."
Detective Frazier would look really good kneeling in front of me, his mouth stuffed with my cock. But I've got my orders. "Sure thing, Detective. I'm flattered you're interested."
He smiles at that, and it's my Clay there, then he's gone, and I'm back with Detective Rick Frazier, BPD. "Don't flatter yourself. You owe me."
I hang my jacket on the back of the kitchen chair he's put by the door, then pull off my t-shirt. "And you want to be repaid with sex?"
"A guy like you has to hate sucking cock." He has a wolfish smile. "And taking it up the ass will probably break you. So, yeah, I want sex from you, because I want you broken." He undoes his zipper and pulls out his cock. "Hurry up, or I call your boss."
"Yeah, I got that." I kick off my sneakers, then undo my jeans and get out of them. I didn't bother with underwear. Broken? So the detective felt broken after I was done with him, and wants to do the same to me. Too bad for him. Sex won't break me.
He's working his cock, the smile gone and a hungry look in its place. "Get on your knees for me and take it all in. Let's see if you can do as well as that suspect you gave me shit about. Bet you can't."
I put the jeans on top of the t-shirt and drop to my knees, then open my mouth and take in the whole shaft with one swoop. Can't suck cock? Ah, Detective Frazier, I can suck cock better than anyone else you've ever had.
I give him a blowjob that's rough and fast and hard, and he ends up gasping for air and choking out swear words between breaths. Worth every bit of effort I put into it. He tries to fuck my mouth, but I hold his hips, and he doesn't try again. I settle into a steady sucking and work at getting him off. Let the detective see that it takes much more than a blowjob to break me. He couldn't do it if he tried.
His hips are jerking, even with my hands on them, when he grabs my hair and pulls my mouth off him. I kneel back on my heels, lick my lips, and smile up at him. He's flushed and panting and sweaty, and he's not giving me any shit about how I suck cock. He knows how good I am now.
He takes a few moments to speak. "I'm going to fuck you and make you beg for more." He lets go of my hair. "And you will beg if you know what's good for you. You don't want me to get you in any more trouble with your boss."
I get to my feet. "Where do you want me?"
"That's better. Get on the bed, on your back. I want to see your face when I fuck you." He follows me over and watches as I lie on the bed. His eyes are glittering. "Hands over your head." I stretch out my arms for the cuffs he's got in his hand, and he snaps on one, then the other. Real cuffs, just like I used on him. "Now you'll have to beg me. Not so tough now, are you?"
"No." No, I'm only as tough as you want me to be, Detective.
He takes off the leather jacket and hangs it up, then quickly gets out of the rest of his clothes. "You're a hard case, or you think you are. But I've dealt with harder cases than you."
He gets on the bed on his knees and pinches my nipples, and I let out a whimper. It's been a while since he was this rough, and I like it. He pinches them again and rolls them between his fingers.
"That's right, make noise for me. Show me how much you like this. Make it worth my while."
He pinches once again, even harder, and I arch up and hear myself moan. The pain's going right to my cock, which is pointing straight up.
He leans over, his breath hot against my mouth. "Beg for it." His tongue licks my lips, and I wonder if he'd kiss me. But I'll bet that's below the great Detective Frazier. "You know you're going to have to, so why not now?" He licks my lips again, lingering this time, and the tip of his tongue slips into my mouth, then out.
He will get me to beg. Jesus. I want him. I want Detective Frazier to fuck me.
His hand closes around my cock and pumps, and I moan again. He knows just how to do it.
"Beg for it, Palmer," he whispers, and his tongue comes out to lick my lips once again. "You know you want it."
"Please." I know I could hold out longer, but why? It's a game. This is my Clay. And I want him.
"Please what?" His other hand finds a nipple and rolls it while he's pumping my cock, and maybe I couldn't have held out any longer, because I'm gone now.
"Please fuck me." He squeezes my shaft, and I moan again. "Oh, god, please."
He laughs. "Yeah, you're no hard case now. You want it, and I'm going to give it to you."
He shoves a pillow under my ass, then another, and spreads my legs with both hands on the inside of my thighs and kneels between them. I yank at the cuffs, then make myself stop and thrust up my hips instead. I need his cock. I need it now.
"Desperate, aren't you? How do you like it?"
I never like being desperate, but he'll give me what I need. He has the bottle of lube in one hand and is coating his cock with the other. I can't keep still, even though he's not touching me. Maybe because he's not touching me. He squeezes some more lube into his hand and slicks it on me, his fingers hot and fast and rough as they push into me, and I whimper. I need more than rough fingers.
I get out words. "Fuck me."
His face is flushed and intent as he gets closer, his cockhead almost at my hole. "Yeah, I'll fuck you, just as hard as you fucked me."
He pushes into me, the head stretching me enough to burn, then the shaft opening me up, and I'm shaking and straining to get more, because I know, I *know* this is what I need. He can fuck me harder. I can take it.
"Ever been fucked?" He's buried in me, balls warm and damp against me, and his eyes are bright. He jerks his hips and hits my prostate, and I whimper. Damn, he's good. "Bet you haven't."
I know what he wants to hear. "Never."
He pulls back, then thrusts back in. "Never, huh? So I'm the first to fuck this ass. I like that." He laughs as I groan. "You like it, too."
"Yeah." I need more. Even the air over my nipples and cock is driving me crazy. "Fuck me, Detective."
"That's right, you know it's me fucking you, and you know I'm fucking you better than anyone else ever will."
I moan an agreement to that, and he pumps in and out, harder and harder, then takes my left nipple between his fingers and pinches it, and that and the fucking do it. I come with another moan, all over myself, and he speeds up, fucking me even harder, until he groans and comes in me.
He's panting. "Your ass belongs to me. I want it, I take it. Got it?"
I'm panting, too. "Got it." Any time he wants.
He pulls out, and I close my eyes. God, he fucked me good. I'm going to be smiling tomorrow, the ache in my ass adding to the memories.
He undoes the cuffs, but I just lie there with my eyes closed, and after a moment I hear him head out. Probably the bathroom. I open my eyes, bring down my arms, and check my wrists. Yeah, marks from the cuffs. More to remember Detective Frazier by. Detective Frazier, who said he owned my ass.
I grin. Sure he does. Until I decide I own his.
The End
Posted 4/19/02
To read the next Eclipse Snapshot, go to What He Wants, unless you got here by reading the three Detective Frazier stories in a row, which may mean that you haven't read Investment, the story of Clay and Clark's first Valentine's Day. You might want to read that one first.
