Ornaments
by Gail (gem225@hotmail.com)
JAG
Clayton Webb/Clark Palmer
Rating: adult
Clay keeps his promise from last Christmas to Clark. To find out more, see my first Eclipse Christmas story Presents.
Snapshot/PWP #17 in the Eclipse universe.
Disclaimer: O.K., they belong to DPB and CBS. But who lets them have fun? Me, that's who. The Grinch, herein mentioned, belongs to Theodor Geisel, aka Dr. Seuss.
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.
Warning: mushiness and wild m/m sex. I don't have to warn about those? Oh, well. *g*
For Alexandra, who wanted this and got me to promise to write it. Even though she's dead and can't read it, I had to write it. I like to think she's smiling, knowing I kept my word. Special thanks to Tinnean, who read part of this in draft and helped Clark get his presents for Clay. She's hip and happening. *g* A deep curtsey to Elizabeth, who took time on Christmas Day, 2001, to beta this for me and found the flaws I'd missed.
*****
I ease open his office door. He's frowning at the screen. I don't like seeing him frown. "Palmer." I use my sternest voice, and it gets his head up immediately.
"Yes, sir." He's not frowning now, but he's not smiling, either, although I know he wants to.
I like him calling me 'sir' too much to let him do it, and he knows that, one of the reasons he keeps doing it, but this time I don't reprimand him. That will confuse him, and that's all right, too. Clark Palmer's more than smart enough to keep up with me. I like that a lot.
"Get your coat and come with me."
"Yes, sir."
I wait until he's standing to turn away, and only then do I let myself smile. This isn't Company business, but he won't know that until it's too late, I hope. I made him a promise last Christmas Eve, and today I'm going to keep it.
*****
I drive, and he gives me a few looks, but doesn't ask me where we're going or what we'll do when we get there. Clark has a good sense of when to shut up, and I'm giving off all the signals to get him to sense that.
We pull into the parking lot of the garden center and get out of the car. He looks around, then grins. "We're going to buy a tree?"
I smile and lean against the car. It's a good day to be outside, cool, not cold. "Two trees. One for your place, and one for mine."
"Didn't think you'd really do it," he murmurs and comes around to stand by me. His hand brushes mine for a moment, then it's gone.
"Can't have you thinking I won't keep my word." I keep my tone light. Clark does not like emotional displays in public any more than I do. There will be time enough for that later.
He doesn't say anything, just grins even wider, and I keep smiling. Then he frowns. "Come *on*," he says impatiently, and he's off into the first row of trees. I follow, keeping close but not hovering.
He picks out a tree after only a few rows, then turns to me with a look that says 'hurry up', and I'm glad I saw one I liked already. I get it, then when he pulls out his credit card to pay for them both, I don't say anything more than 'thank you', and the smile he flashes me lets me know I'm reading him right.
We tie the trees to the top of the Company car, making sure to have a blanket under them, then I tell Clark it's his turn to drive, and he grins. He loves driving.
"Where to, boss?"
Yes, he's in a good mood. "The nearest mall." I know he doesn't need any more direction than that. Clark knows the greater DC area better than I do.
He starts the car and drives, and sure enough, he finds a mall and a parking space within half an hour. I wait for him to ask more, but he doesn't, just follows me in.
I go to a display of ornaments, then turn to smile at him.
"You need ornaments." I know he doesn't have any. He said as much last Christmas. "Unless all you wanted this year was the tree."
"Yeah, well, maybe I'll go for that stark forest look."
I know he's not serious, and he reaches for a box of solid colored balls to prove it. I don't say anything and watch him pick out more ornaments, two boxes of colored lights, and even some garlands of tinsel, silver, gold, and red, which makes me smile. I wouldn't take Clark for the kind of person who'd put up tinsel, but I don't mind being wrong. I like that he surprises me.
After he picks out the tinsel, he piles the boxes in a neat stack, takes them to the register, pays for them, then comes back to me with them in bags.
"You need anything here?"
I shake my head. Mother gave me some of the family ornaments last year after she heard from Clark how few I had. She already told me to bring him this year, and I know she's gotten him something. She didn't say anything after she met him and hasn't still, but I know she knows we're lovers, and because she hasn't said anything and has invited him again, I know she's telling me she approves.
She has us over for dinner every month or so, and every time she comes up with more stories about me as a boy. Clark listens intently to every one and laughs in the right places, but has the good sense not to tease me about them. I'm sure this Christmas will be full of more stories. I hope not the one about the time I got a chemistry set.
I wish I knew stories about Clark's childhood, but he'd have to tell me. Maybe I'll ask Mother to ask him. He wouldn't want to say no to her.
Clark heads out of the store, and this time I follow him.
"We need to go to a grocery store," I say when we're in the corridor.
He smiles and lifts up the bags so that the two boys chasing each other can get through. "Eggnog, right?"
"Yes." I'd considered making it from scratch, but that would take time that I'd rather spend trimming the tree with Clark.
He turns around and heads out, and I follow, smiling again. Clark's having a good time, and so am I. But it's going to get even better.
*****
We buy two cartons of eggnog, and Clark insists on getting some butter cookies to eat, which reminds me that I want to make him dinner. I pick out two big porterhouse steaks. His eyes widen when he sees them being wrapped up.
"I get steak?" He likes that idea, I can tell.
I put the package in the cart. "And baked potatoes."
"Great. What vegetable?"
"What do you want?"
"Whatever looks good to you. I don't care."
That's his usual response. I select two large russets and some broccoli, and we pay for everything and leave.
We go to my place first and drop off my tree, leaving it propped in the kitchen in a bucket of water, then head to his. I make sure to pick up a good bottle of Bordeaux to have with the steaks. I know Clark has wines, but this is a special occasion, and the wine won't keep forever. It's already kept twenty years.
Clark's whistling something, and it takes me a minute to recognize the tune. When I do, I smile. Leave it to Clark to whistle 'You're a Mean One, Mr. Grinch'. But he's happy, and that's what counts.
We get to his building and carry the tree up to his apartment, or, rather, I hold the doors while he carries the tree. He starts setting it up, and I go back down to get the ornaments. When I get back, he's standing and staring at his tree.
"It looks good." I wonder if Clark hears in my voice what I hear: love for him. I hope so. Maybe someday I'll say the words, but I don't think Clark wouldn't want that. He's private, like I am, and I don't need to hear that he loves me. He shows me every day and night we're together.
He turns and smiles at me. "Yeah."
Next breath he's back to staring at his tree, and I decide to go into the kitchen. I'll get us both eggnog, and then probably Clark will be ready to trim it.
I pour the eggnog into two glasses and, after sniffing the nutmeg, decide it'll do and shake some on top, then bring them into the living room.
Clark comes over and takes his glass. "Sit down, Clay. Look at the tree with me."
I'm not so sure we'll get it trimmed tonight. Clark's happy just to look at it. But that's fine. We've got a week to Christmas.
I sit with him on the couch, sip eggnog, and watch Clark instead of the tree. Did he look like that when he was young? His face is so open and full of joy. I'll work at finding ways to make him this happy.
I finish the eggnog and put my glass down on the table and open my mouth to ask Clark if he wants some more, since his glass is empty, too, but I don't get the chance. He slides his arms around me and gets his lips on mine.
When we break from the kiss, we're both breathing hard, and his eyes are shining. "Do me a favor, Clay."
"Anything." He can ask me anything he wants. I'll give it to him.
"You're pretty trusting. What if I've got some strange sex game in mind?"
I smile. "Maybe I hope you do."
His eyes glaze over, and he's breathing even harder. It takes him a minute to say more. "I got you a present, and I want you to have it now. I've got something else for Christmas, something good."
I'm curious, so I nod.
"Great." He's up in a heartbeat and over at the thermostat, turning it up. "Start stripping."
Oh. So it is something about sex. I lick my lips, stand, and reach for my tie. I'm interested after that kiss, and I trust Clark. He's not going to come up with any game I don't want to play. I wonder what he got me, but I'll find out soon enough.
When he comes back, I've got my clothes off. He's stripped, too, and he's carrying a shiny blue bag with figures of brown and silver reindeer. His eyes travel down my body, and he smiles. "I should put a bow on you and put you under my tree. You're all the present I want."
"I feel the same way about you," I say in a low voice. "Come here." I want his firm body against mine, want his lips on my skin.
"Hey, this is my game. You do what I say. Don't worry, you'll like it."
I said 'anything', and I know Clark will make it good, so I nod. "What's in the bag?"
He grins and shakes it. "A couple of surprises. But first, close your eyes."
I give him a look, then close them. I feel the air move by me and know he's coming closer, then there's something cool and soft over my eyelids. He blindfolded me. That's a new one.
"Like it?" His mouth is by my ear, and he's pressed against my back. I can feel his hard-on against my ass and his hands warm on my chest and stomach. "Now I won't have to worry about you seeing anything you shouldn't."
"You don't trust me to keep my eyes closed?" It smells like leather. I should have known. Clark loves me in the leather jacket he bought me last Christmas, and I've been expecting leather pants this year.
"Clay, you're a spy. Of course not." The amusement in his voice would make me smile, but he's rubbing against me now, and I'm too aroused to have room for any other emotion. "Now for the next one."
One hand comes off me, and I hear something rustling, probably the bag, while the other hand slips down to circle my cock. It's getting harder all the time.
He chuckles as I moan. "Don't worry. You're not going to come yet. I've got just the thing to be sure of that."
The next thing I feel is something cool and hard eased over the head, then down my shaft. A cock ring? But there's something else, metal that cradles my balls and presses them closer to my shaft. I want to see what he got, but I also want to play this game the way he wants me to.
"Just as hot on you as I thought it would be." His hand is back around my cock, and he's pulling, getting me to thrust into his grip. "Yeah, Clay, show me you want it. Show me you like what I'm doing to you."
"I like it." I hear how husky and desperate my voice is, and know he hears it, too. "More, Clark."
"Yeah, more," he breathes, then we're moving. He stops, then bends me over, and I can tell he's got me over the back of his couch. To fuck me? I spread my legs further apart and hear him groan. "Jesus, Clay, you're making me forget what I wanted to do."
I smile to myself. Good. "What were you going to do, Clark?"
I hear him take a deep breath, then there's the rustling sound of that bag and a couple of other sounds I can't place. "This."
His fingers find my anus, and they spread their coating on me. So he is going to fuck me. That's fine. I know I'll enjoy it.
But he doesn't. He keeps spreading more of the substance on me, his fingers going away and coming back with more, then it's not his fingers I'm feeling, it's his tongue. It makes long, broad sweeps up my crack, then those stop, and I feel instead the tip of his tongue flickering over my anus. I groan and push my ass back to get more, and he probes into my ass, in and out, quick fiery teasing strokes.
"Clark." It comes out in that husky, desperate voice again, and he laughs even as he's licking. I wonder what flavor he bought.
"I'll have to put on more," he says when he stops, and all I can do then is groan. "Because I'm going to come inside you."
I want his cock in me. "Do it."
"No one as good as you, ever," he murmurs and presses little kisses on my back. "No one."
He smooths on more lube, then he's pushing into my ass, with a hand on my cock and his other hand on my back. "That's it, Clay, yeah," he whispers as his head pops through the ring of muscle and I groan. "Good."
He works his cock the rest of the way in, and as it fills me, once again I wonder why the hell we don't do this more often. Because I like fucking him so much, and like his mouth on me and mine on him? I don't know, and with his first thrust into my prostate, I don't care. He's fucking me now, and I want him to keep going until we both come.
He's panting, getting close, when he takes hold of the cock ring and works it up, then off. I hear it clang somewhere, but I'm too busy coming over his hand as he pulses and comes in me.
He pulls out, then takes off the blindfold and turns me around to face him. I lean against the back of the couch and recover. "Next time, you can use that on me if you want. There's more stuff in the bag, too. Take a look at it later, O.K.?"
I smile as he looks around, then picks it up and tosses it back in the bag. Maybe I will put that on him. "I certainly will. Are you ready to trim the tree?" I reach for my clothes, then change my mind. I need a shower after that. "After I clean up, that is."
"Yeah, after I get you in the shower and suck your cock and make you come again," he agrees, and I laugh.
"I'm not sixteen, Clark. You may have to wait for me to recover."
"Lots of hot water. No problem."
He scoops his clothes into his arms and heads to the bathroom, and I follow him. The tree, and more eggnog, and dinner will have to wait a little longer.
The End
Posted 12/24/01
To read the next Eclipse Snapshot and the sequel to this story, go to Home for the Holidays.
