Dragging
by Gail (gem225@hotmail.com)
JAG
Clayton Webb/Clark Palmer
Rating: adult
Clayton Webb drags Clark Palmer out of a meeting.
Part 8a of the Eclipse series, an interlude
Disclaimer: If life was fair, I'd own these guys. It isn't, and I don't.
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 for Alex, who loved the idea of Clayton dragging Clark out of a meeting, mentioned in at the beginning of part 8, Dark side of the moon. It's also now for Page and Silk and Tinnean, all of whom have spoken out for more Eclipse.
*****
He'd damned well better be there. He does not want me to have to look any farther for him. Not when I'm in this mood.
I open the door and see him giving the chairman that attentive look he has, the one that means nothing. He's giving them what they want, again, and the worst thing is that he does fine everywhere but in meetings. There he daydreams all over the place, although no one gets that but me, and I don't even want to think about what he's got on his mind. What I get on mine is bad enough.
"Webb." Surprise, of course. I don't interrupt meetings unless it's urgent.
"Excuse me, but I need a word with Palmer." I'm glad that the chairman is Walker, who knows me well enough not to get in my way. Not everyone's that smart at the Company yet. They will be.
Palmer's already standing, turning that attentive look at me. Nice try, Palmer. I manage to get him out into the hall before I grab his arm. The attentive look changes to one of surprise, but I can see the pleasure underneath. He knows damned well why I took him out of that meeting, and he's glad about it. I should have just let him stay there.
He's smart enough to shut up as I tow him down the hall to an empty conference room. I shove him inside and shut the door, then lock it. I don't want to be interrupted.
"You left it on my desk again." That file on David Stoner's death. I didn't even open it this time.
He smiles. He looks too damned good in those suits he wears. It's hard to stay angry with him when all I can think of is getting him stripped. No, I'm not going to think about that now.
"You weren't expecting it? Come on, Webb, you had to know I'd want you again."
The way he says that, so casual and certain, makes me harden even more. Damn. It's only four in the afternoon. I can't leave now.
"You play dangerous games, Palmer."
"I love dangerous games, Webb. Especially with you."
"I've noticed." And my anger's gone. He's looking at me as though I'm all he wants, as though the world could end now as long he and I were together. That can't be true. Clark Palmer, want me more than anything? It's insane.
I want him more than anything, more than Rabb, and I want him right now.
"If you love danger so much, go ahead and suck me off." What the hell am I thinking? Am I thinking?
But his eyes are gleaming and he's coming toward me. "Anything you say, Webb," he whispers, and then he's down on his knees. His long fingers undo my zipper and take my cock out, then his hot mouth takes it in and his hands go to my hips to keep me up.
"Not like that," I say abruptly. He pulls his mouth off and looks up at me. "At the table."
That's all I have to say to make his eyes light up even more. "Yes," he breathes, and I know he's remembering that time I admitted that I wanted him to suck me off at a meeting. He crawls under the table, god, right at the head, as though I were chairing the meeting, and I move over and sit down. His hands are back on me, such clever, skilled hands. I wonder where he learned to be so damned good. This is one of the few times I'm glad he had DSD training, if the rumors I've heard about it are right. I wonder who got to teach him how to give a blowjob? Did he have to practice on a lot of men? If I'd been DSD and training him, I wouldn't have let anyone else touch him. I would have kept that mouth, and ass, for myself. God, sometimes I wonder if I'm turning into some kind of DSD agent. I never used to think like this. Would Clark be happier if I was more DSD? Is that his goal? It might be.
I breathe out and clear my mind. I want to enjoy this, since I'm insane enough to do it.
"Make it last, Clark." It's an order, not a request.
He doesn't answer, just takes my cock back in, but this time he's sucking more gently, his fingers stroking my balls, and thank god there isn't a meeting going on, because I can't help letting out some cries. He keeps sucking, and his fingers keep up their teasing until I can't take it any more, and I grab his head, hold it in place while I thrust in and out. I hear a choked cry from him, but when I try to pull out, he makes a desperate sound and says, "please, Clay," and I can hear that he wants me to keep going. I don't fight it any more, do what I want, what he wants, and when I feel myself about to come, I thrust my cock deeper into his throat and make him swallow every drop.
I feel his mouth as it pulls off, then those fingers gently putting me back together. "You all right, Clay?" His voice is soft. "Webb, come on. We can't stay in here all day."
"Why not?"
He chuckles. "Well, if you say we can, I'm not going to argue."
He sounds so happy. Does this make him happy? Yes. It does.
We can't stay here; he's right about that. But he hasn't come. "Come on out, Palmer." I push back from the table, and he comes out, too. "Stand up."
He does, and I push him back against the edge of the table. "It's all right," he whispers as I open his pants. "You don't have to do anything for me."
"Shut up." I don't wait for him to; I slam my mouth against his and make him. His tongue is right there, dueling with mine, and it is so familiar, so good. I don't have to worry about what he wants; he wants everything. I get a hand down to his crotch and take out his erection. I've got him. My hand closes around his shaft, and he moans into my mouth as I jerk him off.
This is really insane. I don't care.
I tighten my grip on his erection, then as I feel and hear him get close, drop to my knees and get him in my mouth just as he comes. The cry he lets out at that makes me feel so good.
When I stand again, he's still got his eyes closed, and I just watch his face. It's so relaxed. I like seeing it.
He opens his eyes just when I'm about to say something. "That was good." His smile lights up his face. "I'll see you after work."
I watch him put his limp organ back in his pants. "You will?" As soon as I say that, I realize what he meant. Our deal. Of course.
His smile fades, then turns into a cool look, one I know very well. "You didn't think you'd get out of our deal with a blowjob, did you, Webb? You know a hell of a lot better than that."
I wonder what he would do if I told him that I knew right now that I didn't want out of our deal. "I know," is all I can manage, but it makes that smile come back.
Does he know what I'm really saying? Maybe. I don't care. I will later, but not now.
"Get back to work, Webb." His hand is up, brushing my hair out of my eyes. I stand very still. He's never done that here before, but then I've never dragged him into a room and made him give me a blowjob, either. "The country will go to hell if you're not watching out for it."
"You get back to work, too." The look in his eyes is affection, I can see that. Palmer does give a shit about me. It shouldn't be such a surprise. I know he does. I just wonder how much of that is real and how much is because of this hold he's got on me. Still, the affection is there, and I see it in his eyes a lot more than I see it in Rabb's, and Rabb's supposedly my lover.
"May I go?" He's actually asking. I nod, and he undoes the lock, then looks at me. "Coming, Webb?" No twinkle in his eye, so he's back to his normal self, although I wonder how much of how he is here at the Company is normal. I remember him saying in the garage that he got to be himself again, since it was after work. I hope he's feeling better about the Company now. I should ask him sometime. I will ask him. Just not now.
"Certainly."
He still doesn't open the door. "Thank you," he says very softly, then he's got the door open and is out.
It takes me a moment to follow. This...deal of ours is getting more and more complicated all the time, and I'm beginning to think I don't know Clark Palmer at all.
But I want to, and I will.
The End
Posted 12/3/00
To read Clay's side of Clark topping him from Dark side of the moon if you came here instead of there, go to Doing it right. To read part 8c of the Eclipse series instead, go to TV Night by my dear Isilzha.
