Team work
by Gail (gem225@hotmail.com)
JAG
Clayton Webb/Clark Palmer
Rating: adult
Disclaimer: They might as well belong to me, since I write about them so much, but they don't, and I know that.
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 after the Part 10 of the Eclipse series, in that universe, if that makes any sense. I hope it does. It's a PWP/Snapshot (#1).
Thanks to kira-nerys for making me think about writing a PWP instead of a story, to Tinnean for having good news and for singling out a paragraph from Passing notes that reminded me Katja wanted this, too, and to Katja for thinking up this pairing in the first place.
This is for Kita, who wanted something with these guys and sex in it, for Mareen, who works too hard, and for Alex, who is turning into my primary beta and therefore deserves all the presents she can get.
*****
I glare at the screen. What the hell were they thinking when they approved that team? They don't have the experience, they don't have the intelligence, and they do not have the record to deal with the problem. And now they've made it worse, and I know that I'm going to get a call sometime soon telling me that I have to find a way to fix it.
If they'd been smart enough to let me handle it in the first place, there wouldn't be a mess now. But they weren't.
I'm working on a plan for when I get that call, typing rapidly, when there's a knock on the door. I make whoever's there wait until I save my work. "Come in," I say finally.
The door opens and my partner comes into the room. He tilts his head and smiles. "Working hard, Webb?"
"Harder than you, Palmer," I say dryly and smile back. Good to see somebody with a brain. If they'd sent him, I wouldn't have this to worry about. "What do you need?" I glance at my watch and see that it's late, seven-thirty. "What are you still doing here?"
"You were working, so I was, too," he says simply. A lot of things are simpler for Clark Palmer than they are for me. Someday I have to ask him what the hell the DSD training was like. But not here or now. "I have an idea for the Karcher situation and I thought I'd run it by you." He gives me an expectant look. "Is now all right?"
"Fine. Sit down," I add when he just stands there. He still acts like he's the junior and I'm the senior. It means that I have to remember to give him permission to do things like sit in my presence. When other people are around, he doesn't act this way, but he does around me, and I know it's because he knows I like it.
I never thought I'd enjoy having Clark Palmer wait for me to give him permission to sit, but I do, and I get the feeling he enjoys it, too. It makes for an interesting partnership.
He pushes the door shut and sits. "The best way to handle this is..." and he's off into his proposal, his face intent, eyes fixed on mine, voice crisp and certain. I know from experience that he won't stop until he's finished, and that any question I have will probably be answered if I just wait. So I do, wait and listen and watch him lay out a course of action that is very close to my ideas and solves the few points I was having problems with.
When he stops, I'm nodding. "Very good."
"Thank you, Mr. Webb."
I give him an exasperated look. "Webb," I correct him.
He shrugs. "Whatever. It's late, Webb. You going to sleep here tonight?" He's smiling at me, eyes still intent but with something else there now. "I'm going home."
It's almost eight, and I know that I should be leaving, too. "I'll see you tomorrow."
It's a clear dismissal, but he doesn't move. "I'd rather see you now," he says, a husky, dark note in his voice. Only then does he stand, come over to my desk and lean against it. "I've been hard all day, Clay. I can't wait until we get back to my place. Now. The room's clean." His hands reach up to loosen his tie, then he takes off his jacket and puts it over the chair.
"You really take chances." I glare at him, but he just smiles. He knows I'm not really angry, and I know that he wouldn't be saying this if he didn't think it was possible. Clark's not a tease, except when he's trying to provoke me, and he's not trying that now. I know him better than that.
"That's what I learned in the DSD, Clay. To take chances. Well? Are you going to fuck me? Or do I have to go another hour or so without it?"
I wet my lips. "If you want to get fucked, get on your knees and get me ready."
I've thought about doing this for a long time, and now I'm going to. It's not safe, but not too many things in life are. I know that Clark wants it, too; he was the one who put the idea in my head in the first place, back when he was new at the Company.
He flashes me a smile that shows he's a little surprised, but pleased at my words, then is down on his knees before I can do anything but reach for my belt.
"Let me," he says, and I watch as his hands deftly unbuckle and unbutton and unzip, then pull out my hardening cock. "Yeah," he breathes and in one swift motion takes it in. The warmth of his mouth and the skill of his tongue get me groaning in no time. He takes his mouth away for a moment and swirls his tongue around the head. "Don't worry; no one's here," he breathes and swallows my shaft in the next breath.
That's good, because I'm too turned on to stop any noises I'm making. He's taking it all in, using what he knows about me to get me hard and ready to fuck him. I wait as long as I can, holding off coming as his mouth works on me, then I get my hands in his short hair and tug him off. He's licking his lips, smiling, and panting. I remember something he said a long time ago.
"Strip," I order him, and his face relaxes into one I know very well.
"Yes, Clay," he breathes and stands. I watch him get out of his pants and put them on the seat of the chair, then look at me for my next order. But he hasn't finished with the first one yet.
"That's not stripped, Clark," I say in my coolest voice. "I thought you wanted me to fuck you. I won't if you won't do what you're told."
He actually closes his eyes for a moment, and I enjoy how I've turned this around. "You're right," he says when he opens them. "I'm sorry." And he reaches for the button at his throat and starts on those. While he's doing that, I do up my pants again and move some things around on my desk. I want the advantage here, and being dressed and ahead of him will give it to me.
His mouth is parted and he's breathing quickly when I look at him next. And he's stripped.
"Better. Come here." He takes the few steps to where I'm pointing, the side of the desk that's cleared. "Bend over and get comfortable. You'll be in that position for a while."
He lets out a moan and does, his legs spreading as he braces himself. Oh, yes, this is good. I move behind him, let my fingers trail down his back. This time the sound he makes is more desperate, and I know I'm smiling. It's going to be interesting the next time we talk in here. But I'll enjoy it, and so will he.
I slip a finger into him and find out that he is ready. The thought of him going into the men's room and coating his fingers with lube, then working them up his ass so that he'd be ready for this is enough to get me even harder.
"You want this?" I taunt him. He likes games. "You been thinking about me fucking you here?"
"I've wanted you to fuck me in this office since the first day I walked in here," his shaky voice comes back. "Please, Clay. Fuck me."
"This is my office." I never thought I liked to play games like this in bed. But we're not in bed, and I do want this one. "My name is Mr. Webb. Try again." This is cruel, but it feels right, and the way that Clark's body shivers tells me that I've done the right thing. I thought he'd get off on that. I remember the look in his eyes when he was offering me sex that day and using the formal address. Yes, Clark wants it this way.
"Please fuck me, Mr. Webb," he whispers and spreads his legs even more. "Anything, Mr. Webb."
I can't wait any longer, so I take my cock in my hand and position it against his hole. "Anything, Clark?" I don't wait for his answer, start pushing into him.
He moans again. "Anything you want, Mr. Webb." His voice is getting very desperate now. Clark loves me fucking him, hates waiting for it once he's ready. But he will if I make him. "Please."
"You said I could do this any time," I remind him. "Call you into my office and tell you to strip and bend over. And now I'm doing it. You'd better be worth this." I push another inch into him, and he groans this time, deep and hard.
"Just fuck me, dammit." He pushes back to take in more of my cock, and I slap the right side of his ass. He goes absolutely still.
"My office, my rules." I reach around and grab his cock, pulling it until he's moaning continually. "Ask me to fuck you."
"Please fuck me, Mr. Webb. Please."
This time I know neither of us can wait any longer, and I jam the rest of my shaft into him and start thrusting back and forth, one hand resting on his hip and the other still working his cock. He's tight and hot and just slippery enough to make it interesting, and the sight of his taut body getting fucked by me is too much. I make one more thrust and bury myself deep in his heat, jerk at him until he cries out. I feel the warm liquid on my hand, the muscles convulsing around my cock, and that makes me come, too.
I pull out after a few breaths and reach for the tissues I got out. I wipe off my hand and cock, then my desk. He's still bent over, his breathing slowing.
"Are you all right?"
His low laugh reassures me. "I'm fine, Clay." He straightens. "God, you were incredible." He takes a handful of tissues from me and wipes himself off, then tosses them into the wastebasket. "You'll come to my place, right?"
"Yes. I'll be there," I say and watch his eyes light up. "Get dressed."
"They told me CIA guys liked to take it in the ass, not give it," he teases as he pulls on his shirt.
"You're CIA now," I counter, and hear his laughter with satisfaction.
Life is much better with Clark Palmer in it.
The End
Posted 11/28/00
To read the next Eclipse Snapshot, go to Pony.
