Even Better
by Gail (gem225@hotmail.com)
JAG
Clayton Webb/Scott Barry (original character)
Rating: adult
Clayton Webb gets a partner for his CIA training.
Disclaimer: Clayton Webb does not belong to me; he belongs to Belisarius Productions and CBS. Scott Barry is my own character, but he's no easier to deal with than anyone else I write.
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.
Thanks to Tinnean and Nomi for their betas and to Alexandra for wanting this so long ago. I never thought that I'd let anyone but her read it, but getting this out seems like the right thing to do.
*****
"Scott Barry."
"Clayton Webb."
Clayton gave this Scott Barry man a long look. So this was his partner for this part of the training. Tall, but what else was new? Brown curly hair, lean, good shape. He reminded himself that this was just training. Once he was through with this, he might never see Mr. Scott Barry again. Or he might get along with him just fine. Not much chance of that, though, if any of his previous experiences with partners were indicative. He held in a sigh. People were so hard to deal with. They never liked to hear that they were wrong, and he had to admit that he didn't have that much patience with them.
"Good, you two have met." The instructor came over and handed Clayton a folder, then Barry. Good, Clayton thought. Nice to come first for a change. "You're in room twelve. Read over the material. I'll be available for any questions."
Scott Barry smiled at the man. "Thank you. I doubt we'll have any questions. We're good enough to handle this."
Cocky, Clayton realized. Great. Probably not half as smart as he thought he was. He gave the instructor a nod, then turned to go to their assigned room.
"Want some coffee?" Scott Barry was suddenly in front of him, blocking his way. "My pleasure." This time he flashed the smile at Clayton. "Can't hurt to get on your good side."
"Coffee would be fine."
He watched Barry walk away. Maybe he wasn't as bad as he seemed. He hoped not.
*****
As it turned out, Scott Barry was easy to work with. He was calm, personable, and best of all, as smart as he thought he was. They'd blown through all the assignments so far, so much so that they had the afternoon off while the other trainees slogged through more work.
As soon as they were told they were off for the day, Scott turned to Clayton with his ever-ready smile. "How about I buy you a beer? I'm sick of this place."
"You'd better get used to it," Clayton said dryly, but with a smile of his own. He liked Scott Barry even after four and a half days working with him, a new record. "But a beer would be fine." Beer wasn't his favorite, but he could stand it for some more of Scott's company.
"Great. I'll drive."
"And what if you have too many?"
Scott laughed and threw his arm around Clayton's shoulder. "I never drink too much."
Clayton let the arm stay there for a moment, liking the warmth and the closeness, then raised his hand and moved it off. "I doubt that."
"I look like a typical black Irish, right, Clay? Drinks too much and carouses?" Scott was teasing again, and Clayton just smiled as they walked to the trainees' parking spaces. "You'll see. I always know what I'm doing, Clay." Suddenly Scott was right in front of him. "Always. And you know something?"
"I'm sure you'll tell me." Clayton made himself stay calm. Scott was just playing around, he told himself firmly. There was no way he was coming on to him, no matter how much it looked like that. Scott was damned attractive, but he was a friend, and he wasn't going to do anything to mess up that friendship.
"Of course I'll tell you. I always get what I want. You can count on that." Then Scott smiled before turning away.
Clayton's thoughts were racing. Did Scott mean what he thought he meant? He was going to have to be careful here. The trouble was, he didn't want to be careful. He got into the passenger's side of the car after Scott unlocked the door. Too bad. He would anyway. He knew to be careful about coming on to other guys. If he'd met Scott in a bar... but he didn't go to bars.
He put on his seatbelt and made himself relax. A beer, some talk, then home for sleep and the weekend. Riding with his mother, some reading, nothing difficult. Boring. He sighed. But that was his life right now, and he could deal with it.
He would deal with it, just as he had been.
*****
"Where's the bar?" Clayton gave Scott a puzzled look.
"I said a beer, nothing about a bar," Scott said easily and got out. "Come on, Clay, it's more fun to drink where you can relax on the couch. The place is clean, I bought a six-pack last night, and I'll order a pizza if you're hungry." Scott was over at his door, opening it. "Come with me."
There was a note of command in Scott's voice that was hard to resist, but Clayton made himself resist it. "I suppose," he said after a moment, then got out.
Scott laughed. "Stubborn, aren't you?"
"Very."
"I like stubborn." There was a purr in Scott's voice, and Clayton told himself again to be careful. He didn't know Scott that well, and he could just be playing with him.
He smiled at Scott. Two could play this game. "Good. Then you'll have no problem with me."
Scott laughed. "No problem at all." His eyes were shining. "All right, Clay. You ready for that beer?"
Clayton nodded and followed Scott to the door of his building. It should be a good evening. He could use that.
*****
"I should get going." It was eleven, the movie was over, Scott was lounging on the couch next to him, and it would be too easy to stay.
"You can't go." Scott smiled at him. "You don't have wheels."
"You drive me back to my car."
"Forget it. I'm not going anywhere. Stay the night. There's room."
"I'll call a cab." He reached for his cell phone, only to have it taken from him by Scott and tossed onto a far chair.
"There," Scott's voice was that purr again, "now you really are stuck, aren't you?" Clayton watched from against the end of the couch as Scott shifted. He should get up and get it, but there was something about Scott that was keeping him there. Scott wanted him. He knew that now. "At my mercy. I like that idea. Mine. That's even better." With every word Scott came closer until he was right against Clayton's body. "Mine," he whispered and kissed Clayton's mouth.
No chance of misinterpreting that, Clayton thought bemusedly as Scott's tongue probed between his lips. No chance at all. He kissed back, then felt Scott's hands move over him, tugging out his shirt, undoing the knot in his tie, unbuttoning his shirt, pulling up his undershirt, and running his fingers over his nipples. Clayton gasped and heard Scott's laugh again.
"I'm going to fuck you, Clay, and you're going to beg me for it. Beg me for anything I want. But that's later. Right now," he was kissing Clayton's neck every few words, "you're going to come for me." Scott's hand was down at Clayton's crotch, stroking his erection through the fabric, and Clayton knew Scott was right: he was going to come soon. Come for him. And with that and the next touch, he did come.
"Mine," Scott murmured again after Clayton's moan faded away, a strange dark satisfaction in his voice. "Come to bed now, and I don't want to hear any more shit about you going home. You'll go home when I'm finished with you."
What the hell? Clayton opened his mouth to protest, then Scott took it again. When he stopped, Clayton was gasping again.
"Very stubborn. But I can handle you. No problem. I knew that as soon as I saw you, knew that I wanted to."
Clayton stared into Scott's eyes. All right. Fine. If that's how Scott wanted it, he'd be his. But just for tonight.
*****
Two weeks later Clayton was reading through a profile when Scott put down his copy of the profile and started.
"Did you dream about me, Clay? You should have done what I said and come over. You know that. You're being stubborn again." There was a soft laugh. "I thought we'd settled that problem, but of course I'm happy to deal with it again. Tonight. Say it. Say you'll be at my place tonight."
"We have work to do. Did you finish the file?"
Clayton made sure he wasn't looking at his training partner when he spoke. He knew that if he did that, Scott would just smile and give him that 'now' look that made it so hard to get anything done. He also knew that if he showed Scott he was getting to him, Scott would tone it down, go back to being the good partner and friend he could be. But he wasn't going to show him. Scott had to learn to stop acting as though he could control everything all the time. He didn't.
Clayton stood when he didn't get an answer. "Fine, Barry. Work on this yourself for a while."
"Not so fast," he heard Scott murmur, but it was too late, Scott was so damned fast, and he was pinned against the wall. "Did I say you could leave?"
"Scott, stop this. Now."
Scott laughed. "Very good, Clay." His tongue licked at Clayton's neck. "I don't like you calling me 'Barry' when we're alone. Don't do it again."
Clayton wrenched free and got over to the door. He kept his hand on the doorknob as he spoke. "I don't know what your problem is, but you do this again here, and I'm reporting you."
"Don't do that, Clay." Scott's voice was serious now. "It'll only make trouble. You don't even know why I'm in this program, do you?"
"To get into the CIA," Clayton snapped back.
"I'm in the CIA already. I'm here to get a refresher course, since I've been off doing some other training. But then you'd know about that; you're the one who's been getting the benefit of it."
This was insane. "You lie."
"All the time, but not now. You were the top of your class; you weren't getting along with anyone else; they wanted you to be happy; they thought I could do it." Scott smiled again. "I knew I could, so I did. Not that they know just how happy I've made you. How I've made you mine. That's not their business. I check every day to be sure there's no bugs."
"Scott..." Clayton's voice trailed off. How to deal with this. He needed to know more, but he needed to do well on this assignment. "I want to get this done. You're stopping me from that. Can we talk more about this tonight?"
"Of course, Clay." Scott's voice dropped. "We can talk tonight. Before I fuck you."
Damn him. The worst part was that it was getting him hard. "Please stop, Scott." He hated saying that, but he knew it would work.
Scott's face changed, and Clayton knew it had worked. "Sure, Webb. What concern me here are the cigarettes. Inconsistent with his profile. Why the change?"
Clayton nodded. That was better, and he had an answer for that. "There was someone else there smoking."
Scott nodded, and the rest of the session went smoothly.
*****
Clayton drove to Scott's that evening and reviewed their history. Two weeks of sex with Scott, incredible sex, but always with Scott controlling everything. And Scott wanted to control more, he could tell. At first it had been fine. He didn't mind Scott saying he was his, because when they left the apartment, Scott had stopped. Then Scott started his games at breaks, and now it was while they were working. This had to stop. He wanted a career with the CIA, and Scott Barry wasn't going to get in his way.
He parked the car and got out. Scott was waiting for him at the door to the building.
"Took you long enough." Scott reached for him, but Clayton stepped away.
"Talk. Upstairs."
"Very well. If you want to be like that, we can talk first."
Clayton knew without even looking that Scott was amused. He went into the building and took the stairs. He was in no mood to wait for the elevator.
Scott had left the door open, so he went in and decided to sit in the chair. The couch left him too vulnerable. Scott had shown him that time and again.
The door closed. "Scared, Clay? I'm not going to hurt you, not more than you like, anyway. Sit on the couch, and I'll tell you anything you want to know."
Shit, that voice of his should be illegal. Clayton swallowed. He wasn't going to let Scott do this to him again, he reminded himself. He was going to stay in control here, even if they did have sex again. Control.
"I'm staying here."
"If you like." Clayton watched carefully as Scott sat on the couch himself and smiled at Clayton. "I suppose it doesn't really matter. Did you want me to tell you more about my training, or did you want to hear the reasoning behind my assignment to you as a partner?"
"Tell me about the training first."
"You surprise me. I was sure you'd want to hear about yourself. I like surprises."
Whatever training Scott had had, it was good. Clayton found himself staring at the other man as he leaned forward. No. Not again. He wasn't going to get distracted and lured into sex. He took a deep breath and made himself consciously relax his muscles.
"Stubborn," Scott murmured again. "All right. I trained with a man who'd been in the DSD. He faked his death and came over to the Company."
"The Defense Security Division. Why the hell would you want to do that?"
"Because they know so damned much that we don't." Scott's eyes were gleaming. "They use methods we won't touch, and we should. Sex, drugs, torture: god, Clay, there's so much you can do to fuck up a person if you know how. And that way you get so much information. I specialized in the sex." He leaned back and spread his legs, and Clayton made himself look back up to Scott's face. "But you know that."
"The Company let you do this." That was hard for him to believe. The DSD was the enemy, even though he knew in a way it would make sense for the two agencies to work together. It just wouldn't happen, not with the DSD's attitude of total secrecy and non-cooperation.
"The Company begged me to train with this man. Can't tell you his name; sorry. You're not cleared for it."
"Training in sex."
"In sexual dominance and manipulation. I'm good at it."
Clayton almost laughed at the calm assessment in Scott's voice. Yes, he was damned good at it. Then it hit him. "You've been manipulating me."
"More dominating, but I've been experimenting with the manipulation, yes, Clay. You really hate when I do that. Guess I'd better stop."
"You're goddamned right you'd better stop!" Clayton found himself on his feet. "You've been fucking with my head, and I will not tolerate that."
"Fine. No more fucking with your head." Scott was standing, too, and coming over to him. "But you're still mine, Clay. You're going to have to get used to it."
"No. I'm not yours. If that's your attitude, you can go to hell."
"Mine," Scott insisted and got his arms around Clayton. "All mine."
His mouth fastened onto Clayton's neck, and god, how the hell did he know what to do every time? His training, the answer came this time, and with that answer strength to resist. He stilled. He'd show Scott about stubbornness, he thought grimly. It took almost all he had, but he managed to keep control of himself. His cock was hard, but he wasn't going to let it rule him. No. And he belonged to no one but himself and never would.
Scott lifted his head and stared at him. "You're fighting me, Clay. Stop it. You know I'll make it good for you."
"Let go of me." His own voice was calm and commanding. "It's over, Scott. I'm not going to be owned by anyone."
Scott was frowning now as he stepped back. "So I see. I was so sure..." He shrugged. "But then that's how it goes. If you change your mind, you know where to find me. They told me yesterday they need me for an assignment, so I won't be able to be your partner any longer."
"If I come back, you'll try to own me again. Won't you?"
"Of course." Scott was smiling at him. "You could think of it as your own training. And we both know you liked it."
He had liked it. That was most of the problem. "Don't wait for me."
"You will be back, Clay. Might be a while, but you will. You'll decide you can handle me, and your cock will tell you it's worth losing when you do. You're always welcome here." He stepped forward and touched Clayton's cheek. "I told you I was going to fuck you, Clay, and I always keep my promises. Or are you too scared to let me? Scared you'll change your mind if I get my hands on you, my cock in you? If you're scared, run away."
"I'm not running away, Scott. I'm walking away." He had to, no matter how much he wanted to give in right now. It was important.
"Shit," Scott muttered. "You're even better than they said. All right, Clay, go. No more pressure. And," there was a hesitation, "you really are welcome here."
"Thanks." Clayton smiled at Scott. "I'll see you around."
"I'll try to get you back in my bed. You need to know that."
"I may end up there. When I can handle it. You are damned good."
With that, Clayton turned and went to the door. He half-expected Scott to try something, but nothing happened except a quiet "Thanks."
Driving home, he wondered just how much of what he was feeling was disappointment and how much was relief. He suspected it was fifty-fifty, with a small amount of just plain exhaustion thrown in. No matter. It was over.
The End
Posted 11/10/02
