Sunday, Coffee Sunday
by Gail (gem225@hotmail.com)
JAG (but really Eclipse - this universe took a turn a while back and has its own life, thank you very much *g*)
Clayton Webb/Clark Palmer
Rating: adult
Clay and Clark spend a quiet Sunday morning together, but not too quiet a one.
Eclipse Snapshot #35.
Disclaimer: The characters portrayed herein are not mine and never will be.
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: If you haven't read the Eclipse series and the previous Eclipse Snapshots, all of which can be found here, it's likely that this short will make no sense whatsoever.
Thanks to Tinnean for the beta and title ideas, to U2 for the song that I twisted to be the title after all, and to Thamiris for the request that nudged me into writing the beginning of this.
*****
I come back with my fresh mug of coffee - I checked before I went to the kitchen, but Clay didn't want any - and set it down on the table at my end of the couch. Clay's reading one of his Sunday papers, doesn't look like he'll come up for air anytime soon.
Fine. My coffee can wait - it has to cool first anyway - and after two weeks undercover, not getting more than a moment or two with Clay and no sex, I know what I want and I know how to get it.
I drop to my knees in front of him and slide my hands, warmed from the mug, up the inside of his thighs, pushing them open. Nice of him to wear only a robe. Very nice. Almost like he was hoping I'd do this. Hell, maybe he was.
"Clark - "
Nice sound of surprise. I like surprising him. "Keep reading." I lean in and lick the head of his cock. "You're a smart guy; you can handle me sucking you off and reading some piece about whatever, right?" I lick him again. He's getting hard, yeah.
"I'll read later." He folds the paper and puts it down on top of the other papers, then shifts his hips toward me. "Your mouth on my cock is much more interesting than anything in the New York Times."
That's my Clay.
I cup his balls in my left hand and get about half his cock in my mouth and suck. He lets out a sound that's just about a moan, and I take in more. Sucking him is about as good as having him fuck me, as good as fucking him.
I don't know how long I'm there on my knees, sucking on him, before he groans and shakes and comes in my mouth, but it's not long enough - never long enough. But I've made him happy, and that makes me happy.
I rock back on my heels and stand after pulling his robe together again. Don't want him to get cold.
He pulls me down next to him and starts kissing me.
"Hey, thought you'd want to get back to whatever you were reading."
He laughs and runs his hand down my back over the robe he gave me a while back. "Was I reading? I thought I was making love with you."
Not going to argue with that. "Yeah, you are." And I kiss him good and hard so we can stop talking and get to the making-love part.
Making love. Not something I'm used to him saying yet - maybe I don't want to be. Going from blackmailing him into bed to this... that's a big thing, bigger than I want to lose. Bigger than I want to think about when I could be not thinking. Yeah. Not-thinking is better, and Clay's good at getting me not to think. I'm good at getting him not to think too. We're good together.
His hand finds my cock - not like I'm wearing anything under my robe either - and god, yes. How the hell did I get through a day without this? Used to, yeah - had to. Maybe I don't want to go on missions as much as I thought when it means no Clay in my bed.
Then he slips off the couch onto his knees and takes my cock in his mouth and the hell with any control I want to think I have - I come almost as soon as he starts sucking.
I want him more than I've ever wanted anyone. I need him, and I've never needed anyone. And yeah, I love him.
I could say that now, but I'll bet I don't need to. This is Clayton Webb. By now he knows I love him, I know he knows, and he knows I know he knows.
He looks up at me with one of those happy smiles I love seeing, and I smile back.
"Thanks."
"You're welcome." He sits down next to me. "Let me finish reading this article," he picks up his section of the Times again, "and then I'll see about some lunch."
By which he means he'll cook. Not today. "I'll take you to lunch."
"That sounds like a fine idea. Where?"
"I'm buying, so I pick the place." It'll be somewhere good. No greasy burger joints for him.
"I look forward to it."
He rustles his paper open, and I reach for my coffee and sip it. It's still warm. He'll read more than just that one article - I know my Clay - but I don't care. He's here, I'm here, we're together. Can't ask for anything better than that on a Sunday morning.
The End
Posted 12/23/04
To read the next Eclipse Snapshot, go to Code Roses
