Disguise, Surprise, and Reprise
by Gail (gem225@hotmail.com)
JAG
Clayton Webb/Clark Palmer
Rating: adult
Clay and Clark have their third spring picnic.
Eclipse Snapshot #27, sequel to Rite of Spring (Spring Picnic II)
Disclaimer: The JAG characters herein belong to Belisarius Productions and CBS, not me. Never me.
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.
Many thanks to Tinnean, Elizabeth and Scarlet, all of whom beta'd. Happy birthday, Karen dear! (4/20/03)
*****
I sip my coffee and watch Clark read the paper. Anyone else would think that nothing was going on, but I can tell that he's looking forward to today, which is not usually the case. If Langley blew up, Clark would be almost as happy as if Rabb did something insane like shoot the President - not that he would.
I'm certain that I know what has him this happy, too - our yearly spring picnic - but the last thing I want to do is spoil his surprise. He'll tell me when he's ready.
"Time for work." I stand and go to the sink to rinse out my mug, and he's there to take it from me and put it in the dishwasher. "Thank you."
"No problem."
Nothing I want seems to be a problem for Clark. It's a little frightening. What if I wanted to... I don't know, tell him to jump off a cliff? I think he'd do it. But I won't tell him to do anything stupid, and he'll stay with me.
He puts his mug in next and closes the dishwasher, then heads for the door, and I smile again and follow him.
We've got a routine, and I like it. I like it a whole lot.
*****
"So you're going to JAG today."
I expected him to bring this up at some point, and of all the times, now, in the car on the way to Langley, is probably the best.
"Yes." I could have told AJ Chegwidden, head of JAG, no, but it wouldn't have been smart. He's a powerful man, and he's been helpful in the past, although not always willingly.
"Can I come?"
"That would be a bad idea." A very bad idea. Most of JAG has a bone to pick with Clark, and I'm not interested in letting them do so.
Out of the corner of my eye I see that he has his serious look, and I wish that it weren't so effective. We have to get to work, not stop somewhere and make out.
"Clay, that place is dangerous. I don't think it's smart for you to go alone. I'll behave."
Oh, I know he will. It's Harm I'm worried about. But I know better than to tell him that. For one thing, he knows that, and for another, he'd be sure to let Harm know, and I don't need a pissed off Harmon Rabb. I might get one, but that's how it goes. "Dangerous? You don't think Rabb could take me, I hope."
He hasn't given up on the serious look yet, or on the idea. "Hell, no. I just - I could go in disguise."
There's a note of pleading in his voice that makes me think that I should let him come with me. It would make the visit more interesting, and it would stop him from worrying. It would also stop me from worrying what he'd do at Langley while I'm gone.
"That could work." I keep my tone noncommittal and watch the road. "What disguise would you use?"
"I'd rather show you."
The smile's back in his voice, and I smile, too. "Fair enough. I'm planning to leave for JAG after I get some things done. Come to my office in your disguise around eleven."
"As you say, sir."
Clark with another face. I'm looking forward to seeing it.
*****
He stands in front of my desk in his disguise, and I have to admit that it's a good one: blond wavy hair, blue eyes, a navy blue suit that I've never seen him in, and a red-and-gray striped tie. I'm not sure that I'd recognize him. I'll have to ask him later whose face he used for the mask.
"Well?" He frowns. "Do I pass?"
"You've got your coat?" He nods. "Good."
I stand and head for the door, seeing as I do that his frown has turned into a grin.
It takes so little to make him happy sometimes.
*****
When we get to JAG, we find that Rabb's off investigating something or other. I know without looking that Clark's laughing, although I also know that there's no sign of it on his face.
We go into Chegwidden's office, and Clark shuts the door.
"Who's your friend, Webb?" Of course AJ would want to know.
"Mr. Connolly, from State." Clark told me his 'name' on the way over, and had identification to match it. I'll ask him where he got it later, but I won't be too surprised if all he does is give me one of his cool, 'it's my secret' looks.
AJ nods to him. "Mr. Connolly."
"Admiral." Clark's voice is different too.
AJ doesn't look pleased to have him there, but he doesn't try to get me to make him leave, either. He asks what he wants to ask, and I answer, and we're through in ten minutes.
I see Rabb as soon as we get past Petty Officer Tiner's desk, and there's nowhere to go but toward him. Why couldn't he have stayed away a few minutes longer?
"Webb!" Rabb has the kind of smile on his face that used to make me want to take him to bed. No more. "Hey, didn't know you were coming over. Good to see you."
He throws an arm over my shoulder, and I pray to any gods that'll listen that Clark will not take this as a reason to kill him.
"How about lunch? I'll buy. You don't have to get back to work right away, do you?"
If the alternative is this, yes. "Another time." I get out from under his arm and give him a smile back.
"Sure. Next time let me know when you're coming over."
He doesn't wait around for any reply. I turn and look at Clark, who's glaring at a harmless filing cabinet. Well, better that than Rabb.
"Come on," I catch myself in time, "Connolly."
"Yes, sir."
Clark heads for the elevator, and I start after him.
It could have gone worse.
*****
He doesn't say anything to me in the car, and I let him alone until my stomach rumbles.
"How about lunch before we go back? I'm hungry."
He's not looking at me, and it's not because the scenery fascinates him. "Thought you were too busy for lunch."
"I was too busy for Rabb, yes."
He turns his head, and there's almost a smile on his face. "Got it."
"Any suggestions?"
Now he's definitely smiling. "Let's have a picnic, Clay. We can pick up the food I ordered."
I knew that he had something planned. "Can you get your own face back?" It's my driest voice, but he laughs.
"Sure. I'll work on that while you get us to Brendan's. I know where we can eat, too."
"If you don't mind, I've got somewhere in mind."
He has the hair off and is working off the mask. "Fine. Doesn't matter to me."
I'm sure wherever he had in mind would have been fine, but after this morning, I want to go somewhere familiar and private.
*****
I park by the stables and shut off the engine.
"Nice choice." Clark grins at me. "You had this all planned out, right?"
"I beg your pardon." I use my coolest tone, but I smile back at him. "You were the one with the food ordered."
"Yeah, but you knew this morning I was going to drag you away from - " he waves his hand in the general direction of Langley " - on a picnic."
"Oh?"
"Come on, Clay, I could see it in your eyes. You didn't say anything because you didn't want me to think you knew."
Not many people can read me, but Clark can. I like that.
"Good thing we're on the same side," I say lightly.
"We always will be." He frowns, but I know that it's at himself for saying something so sappy, and pulls the door handle. "Let's go eat. You're going to insist we go back there."
"Well, yes. I have a meeting at two, and don't you have a meeting?" I hate reminding him about work when he's happy, I'm happy, and we're together.
"Yeah." We're both out of the car now. He's at the trunk getting out the food. "I get to look serious and attentive and be bored out of my skin. I know, I know, it's my duty. I'll be good, Clay."
"You're always good." Damn, now I was saying sappy things. "I'll get a blanket."
"Maybe we better eat inside." He shuts the trunk and looks up at the sky. "It's going to rain."
"It's not going to rain." Or so I hoped. The sky was gray and threatening, but we've been caught in a rainstorm before and lived through it.
"Whatever you say. Nice that the weather does what you want. Where's that blanket?"
I motion toward the near stable. "Inside. Come on."
"You and your horses." He comes toward me, holding a bag with each hand. "Good thing I got apples."
I can't help laughing. "Maybe we'll eat them ourselves."
"Maybe." He looks up at the sky again, and I turn and head for the double doors.
*****
After we feed the apples to the horses and get a blanket from the tack room, I spread it under an oak tree, then sit and watch as Clark takes out the plastic containers and puts them in a line in front of me.
"Olives, hummus, pita bread, roasted lamb, couscous, and yeah, here's the salad." He digs into the bag. "Napkins," he hands them to me, "plates, and forks. They're plastic."
"Plastic is fine." I put them all down and pat the blanket. "Sit down." He looks at the sky again. "Clark. Sit." He doesn't, and I frown. "That was not a request."
He laughs and folds his legs under him. "Yes, sir, Mr. Webb."
Before he can make any more smart remarks, I pull his head over and kiss him, pushing with my tongue against his lips. I've wanted to kiss him ever since we got out of JAG, and now I can. He kisses me back and slides closer, and soon we're lying on the blanket, side by side, kissing and grinding against each other like a couple of teenagers. Then both our stomachs rumble at the same time, and we pull away.
He's breathing hard, his lips swollen, and I really want to start kissing him again. But I know that we need to eat. We can make out later.
I reach for a container at random and open it to find that it's the olives. I pick one up with my fingers and put it in my mouth.
"We usually fuck after we eat, and it's your turn to fuck me."
I thought that we dealt with the 'turn' issue last year. "I thought you could fuck me in your office."
He stares at me for a long moment. "Yeah. I could do that."
"We'll have to wait until the day people leave, but...."
"That won't be a problem."
"No going to the men's room to take care of yourself, Clark."
He's got a grin underneath that serious look. I know him. "Hey, my boss made it clear I'd be in big trouble if I did that."
"Like you care what your boss says."
"Sure I care." He's leaning toward me, and I don't care about my damned meeting. I could call, say something came up. "I'm a good boy now. You said so yourself."
"Eat your lunch, Clark."
He runs his tongue over his lips. "I'd rather suck your cock."
I'd rather he did, too, but if he does, we'll never get out of here. "Not now. Later."
He presses his hand over my crotch. "I hate waiting."
I really could cancel the meeting, but I shouldn't. "What about anticipating?" I put my hand over his, then try to lift them both off. He's not budging. "Clark. Please."
He squeezes my cock one more time, and I groan, then he takes his hand away. "Fine. I'll anticipate having you stripped and bent over my desk."
I'll anticipate that, too. "Lunch. Eat."
"Whatever you say." His lashes sweep down over his eyes, and he licks his lips again. "You eat too. I don't want you hungry, later."
I pick up a piece of pita bread and scoop some hummus with it, and he eats an olive, slowly, making sure that I see his tongue.
Clark Palmer is a tease, but then so am I.
*****
When my meeting's over, I go to his office. I'm tired of anticipating. I want him.
He's at his desk, reading over a file, but he shuts it, puts it to one side, and stands.
I close the door and stare at him. "Well?" He knows what I'm here for. What's taking him so long?
"It's only five-forty." By which he means that we should wait a few more minutes to be safe.
He's right. That doesn't make it any easier. I scowl at him and take the seat in front of his desk. He sits. "Report on your meeting."
He does. I look at my watch. It's five-forty-nine. Safe enough. I slip off my jacket and loosen my tie.
He stretches, then stands and comes around to sit on a corner of his desk. I can smell him - a little sweaty, still some freshness from our time outside, the musk that I know means he's turned on - and I want him, now.
"Slowly, Clay." He's smiling. "We really should wait a little longer. We wouldn't want anyone coming in and disturbing us, would we?"
"I can really see you allowing that," I say dryly. "You'd put a bullet in the offender."
"I'd rather not have to. And this *is* my show, isn't it, Clay?"
He seldom calls me anything but 'Webb' here, and that along with the low intimacy of his voice makes me able only to stare at him.
"Isn't it?"
I swallow. "Yes."
"Then we'll wait. How did your meeting go?"
"All right."
He laughs softly. "You don't want to talk about it. Was it that boring?"
I meet his eyes. "I thought about you on your knees under the table through most of it."
"Or me sliding into your ass?"
Clark is a fine dominant. My breath catches, and I nod.
He smiles and rests his hand on his thigh. My eyes go to his crotch. He's hard.
"I wish I could fuck you for the whole CIA to see. Show them you're mine."
"I am yours." And he's mine, but he knows that.
"You damned well are. But some of them...." He frowns.
"You think everyone wants me."
"Like I'm wrong."
I can't help laughing at his certainty. "Not everyone is interested in a stiff-necked tight-assed suit, Clark."
His eyes narrow. "Who the fuck called you that?"
No one, but I'm sure that more people than I care to think of have thought it. "Does it matter?" I run my finger over his knee. "I'd think you'd want people to see me as uninteresting." It's a good cover, but I don't always enjoy it.
He's frowning. "I want people to see you as you are."
It would be nice, but - "I'll settle for people staying out of my way, thank you."
"People stay out of your way."
His eyes say, or he takes them out. He has already. There were people who'd decided that something I wanted done wouldn't get done... and then they were gone. Resignations, and all for credible reasons. I haven't asked Clark. He'd tell me the truth, but why push him? Whatever he did, he didn't get caught; by anyone but me, that is.
He grabs my finger before it can reach his crotch. "We wait."
I don't want to wait, but I agreed to play his game. "I could be on my knees with your cock in my mouth, or bent over your desk. I'm curious as to your reasons for not wanting either of them."
Playing his game doesn't mean that I can't try to get my own way.
"Dammit, Clay, I'm trying to protect you." He scowls. "Let's get out of here."
I know that, and we're not leaving. "I can make up my own mind what to do and where to do it."
He nods, his eyes never leaving mine. "And who to do it with?"
Yes. I nod.
"And you don't give a damn if anyone finds out about us."
I give a damn, but only because it's no one else's business what I do and with whom I do it. "Clark." I put a caress into my voice. "I was the one who wanted you to fuck me here. That should tell you something."
"Yeah." He glances at his watch. "Pants off, Clay, and brace yourself on my desk."
I lean over to untie my shoes and toe them off, then stand and undo my belt and get out of my pants and shorts. He watches me, a faint smile on his face, but I can see the light in his eyes. Then I turn my back to him, place my hands palm down on the desk, and spread my legs as wide as I can. My cock is hot and hard against my skin, and I want him to wrap his fingers around it, but I'll wait.
"Yeah." The breath from his whisper hits my neck and makes me shiver. "That's my Clay." Then warm hands cup my ass. "I hope you're ready, because I'm going to fuck you now."
I have a hard time talking with his fingers massaging my ass and then my balls. "Just like that?" I'm not complaining, and I'm sure that he knows that.
"Just like that."
He lets go of me. I know that he's undressing from the constant movement of the air and the rustle of cloth, and I shift and push up my ass. I hear him suck in his breath, and smile. He's not going to take any longer than he has to.
"This won't be the only time I fuck you here." He's leaning over me and whispering, his tongue licking my neck between words. "You can count on that."
"Hurry up and fuck me now."
He answers by slipping two fingers into me, and I moan. I like how they feel, especially when he drives them all the way into me, but they're not enough, and I push back into them to let him know.
"God, Clay," and the rough shakiness of his voice along with how his fingers are fucking me brings me too close to coming. I lean harder on my hands so that I won't grab my cock.
"Fuck me now." My voice isn't much steadier, but who cares? He knows I want him.
He pulls out his fingers. "Yeah."
The blunt head of his cock presses against my hole, and I breathe out and push back. He slides in with the right friction and roughness and fucks me, in and out, his hands hard on my hips, and every few thrusts he presses his lips to my shoulder. Even through the cloth of my shirt and undershirt I feel the heat from his kisses. I'm groaning before long, and when I do, he moves one hand from my hip to my cock and works me while he keeps fucking me.
It's no surprise to me - or to him, I'm sure - when I come.
He pulls out of me and straightens. "Let's get the hell out of here, Clay."
I turn around and take the handkerchief he offers me. "Yes." He didn't come, but I don't see the point of saying anything about it. I'll make sure that he comes later, with me.
"Come *on*, Clay." He's dressed and standing in front of me, and I smile, hand him the handkerchief, then reach for my pants.
"Yes, Clark."
He reaches for me and kisses me hard, then lets me go.
It's good to go home with him.
The End
Posted 4/17/03
To read the next Eclipse Snapshot, go to Perfect Fit.
