Restless
Gail (gem225@hotmail.com)
JAG
Clayton Webb/Clark Palmer
Rating: adult
Clayton Webb gets restless and goes to Clark.
Part 7a of the Eclipse series.
Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me, but I like borrowing them, they like being borrowed, and I always return them to Belisarius Productions and CBS.
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 Beth on her birthday (8/14/02), because at least one present should be a surprise :-) And for Thamiris, whose intense and wonderful feedback on Eclipse made me beam for days.
*****
It's as though my car just drives itself to Palmer's place now. I'm not sure that I like that. Why doesn't my car go to Harm's? Or home? I like my home, dammit.
I park, go up the stairs, and knock. He opens the door after a few heartbeats. I glance at him to see that he's in his usual comfortable jeans and half-open shirt, and walk in past him. I'm so damned restless. Nothing is going right. Nothing at all.
"Don't you have anything better to do than stay here waiting for me to come over and fuck you?" I snap, then take off my suit jacket and sit down without being asked. He's not going to mind. He wouldn't know good manners if they bit him. That thought shows me just how much I'm not myself. I should have gone home, should get up and go now, but there's nothing for me there. I hate that. I want to have something, and I can have Clark.
He doesn't say anything. He takes my jacket out of my hands and hangs it up in his closet, then pours me a scotch, sits on the far end of the couch with a glass of water, and watches me. The watching irritates me even more. People have been watching me all fucking day. I know it's part of the job, but I hate it.
"Well? Answer the question."
He raises an eyebrow. "I could find things to do and people to do them with, but you wouldn't like it if I fucked around, and I don't. You like knowing I'm here, Clay."
He's full of himself. I raise the glass to my lips and take a sip. The burn down my throat makes me close my eyes. I have to stop going to alcohol to help. It won't. "You think I give a shit about anything you do?" Aside from work. He knows that I care about what he does there. It's my job to care.
"All right, stay as long as you want. There's some leftovers in the fridge, and you know where the scotch is."
He goes to the closet, puts on his leather jacket, and walks to the door as I stare. What does he think he's doing?
"Get back here."
He turns around, no smile, and I know that I've just told him more than I want to, but I don't care. I want him. I came to him, dammit. He needs to stay here. Harm's in the middle of one of his cases, so if I hear from him, it'll be for a favor. I hope that I don't hear from him.
He comes over to the couch. "All right. I could go for staying here with you." He takes off the jacket and sits next to me.
He's ready to let it all go, but I can't believe now that I was so rude. "I snapped at you. I'm sor- "
He licks my lips and stops me from finishing. "Shut up. It's over."
He doesn't believe in apologies? No, I wouldn't think so. I slide my hands over his chest, palms down, and hold him away from me. "I had no right to act as though you were just here for me."
He laughs, his face suddenly open and happy. "Why not?"
He can't mean that, but he said it, and I'm still restless enough to take him up on it. I run my tongue over my lips and see his eyes darken. "Did you have a good day, Clark?" I know what kind of day he had: not bad, routine and boring, like I had.
He's breathing harder. "Yeah. This is better." He's still trying to push against my hold, and I know that if I relax my arms, he'll be up against me. "Clay, let me kiss you. Please. Stop teasing me."
I like hearing Clark beg, and I like teasing him. "What will you do if I let you kiss me?"
He shudders. "Anything you want."
The desperation in his voice is too good to resist. I relax my arms, and he's against me right away, his mouth on mine, tongue thrusting into my mouth, arms wrapped around me. My cock's hard and ready to get into him, and I'll bet his is just as hard.
Why don't I get tired of him? I can't understand it.
He nips at my lower lip, and I moan as my cock jumps. "I got what I wanted. What do you want?"
His ass. Oh, god, yes, and I want it now. "Get up, strip, and bend over the back of the couch." We haven't done this before, either at my place or here. I don't fuck in my living room, and we've always gone to his bedroom to fuck when I've come here.
He has to push himself to his feet. "Yeah. Want me to get the lube? It's in the bedroom."
He's got his shirt off, and I have to blink to remember that yes, we need lubricant, that I can't just shove my cock in his ass and fuck him dry.
He laughs softly. "I'd better get it. I'm not sure you remember where the bedroom is."
He touches my shoulder as he leaves, and I blink again. Clark Palmer knows me too well. I knew it had to happen, but how did I let it happen? Why didn't I tell him at the beginning to tell me what David Stoner said and get it over with?
I swallow. Because I didn't want to know then. I still don't want to know now, but I have to face it someday. And because I'm getting something from this thing we have.
Clark walks back in with a plastic bottle in one hand and undoing his jeans with the other. He lets the jeans fall and steps out of them, then goes behind the couch, drops the bottle on the cushions, and bends over the couch, his hands on the back. "Did you want to look at me or fuck me?"
With him back, I can stop thinking about anything but fucking him. I kick off my shoes, loosen my tie, and slide it out of my collar. "Both."
He grins and poses, his ass in the air, legs spread wide, those damned scars catching the light. So many scars. I know how he got some of them, but not all. Someday I'll make him tell me the story of each one.
I keep watching him as I undress, and he watches me. So much hunger in his eyes, so much hunger for me.
When I'm finished, I get behind him, picking up the bottle on the way, and look some more. He's sweating, his muscles are standing out under his skin, and his legs are spread wide. All that I have to do is get some lubricant on my cock and shove it into him. He'll take it. He takes everything I give him.
Instead I get down on my knees and kiss the back of his right leg.
He turns to look at me. "Clay, just fuck me."
"Shut up. I want to do this."
He shudders again and turns his head away, and I kiss the back of his left leg, then his right again, higher this time, then his left, alternating until I'm kissing one cheek, then another. He's moaning and squirming under my lips, and I start using my teeth, nipping him. His moans get sharper.
Clark Palmer, desperate from what I'm doing to him. I never get over that.
Finally I use my hands to spread his cheeks and lick at his hole, which opens for me.
"Now, Clay. Fuck me now."
My cock is demanding attention, so I stand and coat myself with lubricant, peach this time - he can't get enough of the flavored ones - and go to put my cock in him, but I'm too high. I bend my knees, but I'm not going to be able to fuck him and keep my balance. I straighten. "Get up, Clark."
Clark stands and stares at me. "What?"
"Your couch is too low."
"Dammit." He scowls.
"We could go to the bedroom - "
"No. Sit on the couch. Let me suck you off."
"I thought you wanted to be fucked." I sit down, and he's on his knees right away.
"Fuck my mouth."
I push my cock between his lips, and he leans forward to take it all in. I can't resist him sucking me off, and he knows it. I look at him in meetings and know that he'd get under the table if I gave him the right look. I never will, but I'm often tempted. CIA meetings are damned boring. I think sometimes they want me there to torture me. I'm glad that they don't know just how much of a torture it is to be at the meetings with Clark and his eyes with all their promises.
I end not fucking his mouth this time. He's eager enough for both of us, sucking hard and moaning and rolling my balls until I come. He swallows it all and looks up at me.
"You need to come, too."
"Going to suck me off?" His eyes are glittering now.
I take a deep breath and smile. "Certainly. Get up here and let me."
"No." He reaches for his cock and starts pumping. "I want to come like this. And dammit, I'm buying another couch."
Will I ever understand him? I wonder as I watch him jerk off on his knees, his face inches away from my crotch. And I wonder why I care.
The End
Posted 8/14/02
To read part 8 of the Eclipse series, go to Dark side of the moon.
