Spring Picnic
by Gail (gem225@hotmail.com)
JAG
Clayton Webb/Clark Palmer
Rating: adult
Clark gets Clay to go on a picnic. Smut ensues.
Disclaimer: The characters portrayed in this story belong to DPB and CBS. I'm just borrowing them.
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 yet another PWP/Snapshot (#9) set in my Eclipse universe, where Clayton Webb and Clark Palmer became lovers when Clark blackmailed Clayton into bed. Over time the whole blackmail issue was resolved, and now they're together because they want to be. This would take place sometime after part 10.
For Tinnean, who's always a joy and beta'd this; for Alex, who loves these two and was so happy to get her last surprise story and beta'd as well; and for Athea, Silk, and Page, because they're all fine writers and friends.
This is a PWP to celebrate the vernal equinox, which is today (3/20/2001) according to my calendar.
*****
Clay puts down his coffee mug and stares at me. "You want to do what, Clark?"
"Have a picnic."
I make sure to smile at him and stay in the sunlight. He likes how I look with sunshine on me. Poor Clay. He doesn't have a chance against me, not after he threw out my favorite pair of jeans last week. He knows he owes me. It's a great motivator, and I'll let it go after I get this one last thing from him. He already bought me two more pairs and picked out a shirt that he said went with my eyes. Clay's got great taste. Next time I go shopping, he's coming with me. Maybe we can find a way to lock one of those dressing room doors. I could get into sucking his cock and knowing he had to keep quiet.
"You do know we've got work today?"
"Of course, Clay." Like I could forget. In the DSD I'd be able to tell them I had something to do and take some time off, since I was at a high enough rank to be exempt from the rules for the young agents and the fuckups, but the CIA's more hidebound. Whatever. Clay could do that, but he won't. He's sure the world will go to hell without him. Well, it probably would, but as long as we were together, I wouldn't give a fuck. Let someone shoot the President, let *Rabb* shoot him, fine with me. Clay's all I care about now. "Listen, I've got it all planned." Well, I will if I get a few minutes, and I've got the outline of what I want in my head. "We won't miss work, we won't get wet, and we won't eat anything gross like egg salad."
He smiles at that. "You're the one who hates that."
"I don't hate it. It's just that most people screw it up." No, wait a minute, he's getting me off the subject. Damn, Clay's good, and I even gave him the opening. "Answer the question."
His eyes have that joy in them I love seeing. "As long as you keep to those conditions, yes. I'll go on your picnic."
"Great." I grin at him and stand. "Come on, Webb, time to get to work."
He laughs and lifts his mug to his mouth. When he's finished drinking, he answers. "Nice to hear you enthusiastic, Palmer. We'll make a CIA agent out of you yet."
No, Clay, I'll never be CIA. Just yours. But I just smile. If it makes him happy to think I'm liking that shit of a place, I'll go along.
*****
"Webb." I've knocked on the open door twice, and he hasn't looked away from the monitor. This time he looks.
"Palmer."
Damn, he looks wiped, and he was fine this morning. Why the fuck can't they find someone else to do some of this shit? I do all he'll let me and more when I can get to it, but those fucks just keep piling the work on him. Maybe it's time for a nice quiet killing or three. McDonald over in Accounting is going first. The memos he sends Clay are insolent beyond belief. Like he has any right to question Clay's expenses.
That would never happen in the DSD at Clay's rank. All he'd have to do is say he needed money, and he'd get it, no questions asked, as long as he got results, and he always does. I've got a list, and someday soon I'm going to start shortening it the fun way. I need to keep my skills up, and Clay keeps not giving me the orders to take anyone out. If I'm good enough, he'll never know it was me, and I'll make sure to be very good. Wouldn't want to worry him.
"Lunch. Come on." I keep my expression serious. He's not in any mood to be pushed, but he has to eat, and he promised.
"Lunch." He sighs and rubs his eyes. "Yes. Good idea. Could you please bring me back a sandwich?"
Nice try, Clay. But I'm not some trainee who'll bow his head and go away. I come in and close the door. I don't like people hearing my conversations with him.
"Not today, Mr. Webb." All right, maybe a little pushing will get him to wake up, and yeah, there's that flash in his eyes. Never fails when I address him 'improperly'.
"Palmer, we have talked about this."
"Think you need to remind me, sir." That should do it. He's standing now and glaring. Great.
"You know better." He takes a breath. "You're trying to get me upset. Why?"
"Maybe so you'll fuck me?" Misdirection. He's clearly forgotten about the picnic, and I've learned to go with what is working. Always have to be flexible, something I forgot about with Rabb.
"I don't think so." His coolest voice, and he's actually over taking his coat off the hanger. Yeah. "I think that it would be good to have that talk with you, and not here. Come on, Palmer."
I do bow my head at that, but when he passes me, I grin. Got him. I'm so damned good.
*****
It isn't until we're stopped at a red light a few blocks away from Langley that he shows me just how good *he* is.
"I don't see a picnic basket, Clark." He turns his head and smiles, then focuses back on the light.
Ah, shit. He was just playing along. He knew what I was doing all the time.
"It's in the trunk." At least I got that by him.
"Of course. Am I going the right way? I'm assuming you've got a destination chosen."
Of course I do. "Pull over so I can drive." I don't want to give directions; I want to be in charge. This was my idea, and now it's my mission.
He gives me a quick look, then away, and I figure he's not going to listen to me. I'll live with giving him directions. But when he gets through the intersection, he pulls over as soon as there's a spot open, so I'm wrong. I've got my seatbelt off and am out of the car as soon as it's stopped.
"I wish you would be more careful, Clark," he says in a low voice when I open the door for him. He steps out. "You worry me."
God, he doesn't play fair. "I'm being careful." I don't feel like explaining right now all the times I practiced getting out of a moving vehicle in training. That would worry him. "You don't have to worry."
He shakes his head and hands me the keys. "I do have a meeting at three, Clark. Let's get going."
He walks around the car and gets in the other side while I slide in to the driver's seat. Nice and warm from Clay's body. Yeah. This is more like it.
I start the engine as soon as he's buckled in and pull out. We'll make his stupid three o'clock meeting. It's only one now.
*****
I pull into the drive and see that there aren't any other cars here. Good. If Will had fucked that up, I wouldn't have been happy. He owes me from back when I was DSD, and he knows damned well I always make sure people pay when they fuck up. No, got to stop that. This isn't DSD; this is fun.
"Come on, Clay." He's just sitting there, staring out the window. Well, it is a great house.
"I hope you're not telling me you bought this."
I can't help laughing at that. "No, Clay, we're going over there, into the woods." Where everything should be ready, even the food, because I didn't have any time to get anything more than the basket. But he doesn't need to know that.
He gets out, and so do I. "Nice and private."
Oh, good, there's definite interest in his voice. This was a good idea. Knew it.
"Very private, Clay." I want to do something, like kiss him, but that's for later. Lunch first.
I get the picnic basket out of the trunk, make sure the car's locked, and head for the trail. It's a thick little forest, cultivated to be that way, so we'll be safe, plus it's inside the grounds. The security's pretty good here.
It's a matter of minutes before we're at the clearing, and Clay just stares. "This is your idea of a picnic?"
"You thought I meant sitting on the ground?" I would if that's what he wanted, but I like my picnics in comfort. I put down the picnic basket, walk over, and sit down on one of the small couches. "Come on, Clay. Meeting at three, right?"
He finally smiles and takes the other couch. It's close enough so that I can touch him, and I definitely intend to. "So who's serving?"
Oh, yeah. That's the Clay I know and love.
"I'll do it. Back in a minute." I head for the small tent and come back pushing the cart. "Sorry it's all cold."
And I'm sorry that there's no champagne, but there's no way in hell Clay will drink and work. Just as well. It's going to be hard enough to make myself leave without the added confusion of alcohol. The lemonade will do.
We have smoked mussels, crusty French bread, a tossed salad, a St. Andre cheese, and sliced Black Forest ham, with some bittersweet chocolates for dessert, and Clay's smiling by the time he finishes.
"Incredible, Clark. You made this all happen today?"
He looks damned good relaxed. I'm doing this again.
"Made a few calls. Glad you like it."
"I love it. So what else do you have planned? Or was the picnic the only thing on the schedule?"
That relaxed, sexy voice now. Oh, yeah. And he's not thinking about work at all. Hmm. Can I get his watch off? He can miss that meeting. I want him to miss that meeting.
I wipe my mouth with a napkin, then toss it on the cart. We've eaten everything. "Hell, no. Get comfortable. I'll show you what's next."
I specified a carpet over the grass. That was probably what tipped him off, but right now I don't give a fuck. He's happy, and I did it. Now I'll make him hot, and he'll be all mine. That's what I want, and that's what I'm going to get.
I kneel on the carpet and reach for his zipper. Not hard yet, but that's fine. I can take care of that. I get his belt undone, get his pants down enough, then start kissing his balls while I work his shaft. When he's hard enough, I take him in my mouth and suck. I'm going to make him wait to come, but he's going to enjoy every minute of it. I want to show him one more time how good I am.
I don't know how long it is, but after a while he's gasping, then tugging at my hair and saying my name. I never can ignore him.
"Clark." He's licking his lips. "I know you had to have planned for this. Give me the lubricant. I want to fuck you."
Oh, shit. I didn't even think of that. I stare at him. "Sorry, Clay." I don't even think he can hear me.
Clay takes a deep breath and digs in his pocket. "All right, use this."
He hands me a small tube, and I stare at it. When the hell did he start carrying lube? I'll ask later. Right now I'm getting even more than I thought I could.
I strip off my shoes, socks, pants, and briefs, throwing them on the couch I was using as Clay does the same. Then he pushes me down on my hands and knees, and I spread my legs more on my own. He gets the lube on me quickly, not that I care, then pushes in. I'm hard and so damned close. Sucking on him does that to me.
He fucks me hard and good, and I urge him on, beg him to fuck me harder, faster, squeeze my muscles around his cock, until it's too good for me, and I can't do anything but take it. God, yes, that's what I want. This is the way it should be. Just us. Nobody else. My Clay. Mine.
With that and another couple of thrusts right into my prostate, I come, and Clay's right there with me, his low groan telling me I did it again, gave him what he wanted. It still feels damned good to do that. He pulls out and hands me a few napkins from the cart to use to wipe off.
All the time we're dressing he's got this smile on his face, and I know I'm smiling, too. Never been like this before. Never even had a chance at this. Sex was just another weapon to use to get to someone, or get power over them. This is so damned different. I never want to lose it, and I won't.
He sits on his couch to put on his socks and shoes. "It's two-thirty."
Damn. But that's Clayton Webb for you. I don't even try to convince him to stay. I finish doing up my belt and nod. "Just give me a minute to get my shoes on."
He nods and watches me sit down next to him. So it's crowded. I don't care.
I get my shoes tied and go to stand, but his hand is there on my knee, stopping me. "Thank you, Clark," he whispers, and then his mouth is on mine, and I know I've done damned well.
He pulls away too soon. "I'll have to see if I can throw you a picnic as good as this one."
I'm going to have to find a way to stop smiling before we get back to Langley. Wouldn't be good for my reputation to go around looking like I know I have to be looking now. "Some sandwiches and some privacy work for me, Clay."
"Count on it," he says with a grin and stands.
Oh, yeah. I'll sure as hell count on it. It's going to be damned hard to get this smile off my face, especially since I'm not going to try as long as I'm with him. Life's too good right now to do anything but enjoy it.
The End
Posted 3/20/01
to read the story of the next year's picnic, go to Rite of Spring. To read the next Eclipse Snapshot instead, go to Position paper.
