The Change

by Gail (gem225@hotmail.com)

JAG

Clark Palmer/Harmon Rabb, Clayton Webb/Harmon Rabb

Rating: adult

Harmon Rabb gets a new owner.

Sequel to The Challenge

Disclaimer: The characters herein portrayed belong to Belisarius Productions and CBS, not me. Of course they don't belong to me; I'm just a poor writer.

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: character death. Most people who read this will probably not mourn, however. Also references to beating and physical and emotional abuse.

I wrote a short companion piece to this story, Time for the next thing, a couple of scenes from Webb's point of view.

Alexandra wanted this, asked for it nicely, then held my hand and kept me from going crazy while I wrote it, even when it must have seemed to her like I was *never* going to finish it, and then when it seemed like it was the only thing I could write or talk about. I'll always be grateful that she was able to read most of it before she died. Tinnean read anything I sent her, even if it was months between times, even if she'd read it before, and kept believing I could finish it.

Special thanks to Elizabeth, for a wonderful beta and encouragement, and to Alexandra for an earlier beta and encouragement as well. Thanks to Tinnean, Katja, Athea, PantherMate, Mandy, Hector, Jen, Silk, Fran, Aiping, Orithain, Laura, Neige, and Greg, for their suggestions and enthusiasm for the first version posted to gemstories.

This is for Alexandra.

*****

Harmon Rabb woke up screaming and two heartbeats away from coming. He clamped his hand over his mouth to make the noise stop. He didn't want to disturb the other person in the house, couldn't think of disturbing him.

Why didn't it get any easier? Why did he have to keep dreaming of the man who'd enslaved him and made him like it?

He didn't know. All he knew was that it was over. That's what Clayton kept telling him.

He wasn't sure he believed him, or that he even wanted to.

*****

(Two weeks earlier)

"Rabb, are you listening to me?"

Webb's voice cut through to him, and he gave an automatic nod, then winced. Last night Clark had fucked him fiercely after beating him, and he was stiff and sore.

"Sorry, daydreaming. I'm back now." He gave Webb his best smile. That always worked, usually because it pissed Webb off and got him thinking about that instead of whatever he had been.

But Webb's eyes narrowed as they stared at him. "What is with you? I thought you gave a damn about this case. Captain O'Malley was a POW like your father."

Harm stared back at him. Why did Webb have to bring that up? He had to think to remember. Right. His father. "My father's dead."

Webb's eyes widened at that. "I never thought I'd hear you say that so calmly."

Harm frowned. What the hell was with Webb anyway? "It's the truth."

"Yes." Webb was still staring at him, then he gave a brisk nod. "Listen, Rabb, I've got to run, but we need to finish talking about this. How about your place, around seven?"

"No." Clark wasn't leaving until tomorrow night at the earliest, and Harm had hopes that he'd stay longer. He wasn't going to have Webb come over. Too risky.

"All right." Webb took that in stride. "Then you come to my place. If that's possible." He folded his arms and kept staring at Harm.

"It's not." That was even worse. Clark would not want him going over to Webb's; he knew that without even asking. It was out of the question, and he wasn't going to give up any of his time with Clark.

"Rabb, what is with you? We need to talk about this case."

Harm frowned. This was Webb, he reminded himself, stubborn. He couldn't just tell him to go away. It would rebound on him sooner or later, probably sooner, and then that might lead to questions, and questions were bad. "All right, you can come over." It was the lesser of two evils.

Webb stared at him a moment longer. "That's better. Seven. I'll bring the food." He was out of the room before Harm could tell him not to bother.

He sighed. Clark was not going to be happy about this. He hoped Clark wouldn't be too unhappy.

*****

Clark laughed and tossed the balled-up wrapper of the candy bar he'd just finished into the trash. "Webb's coming here?"

Harm swallowed. "Yes, sir."

"I'd love to see him again, but it's not the right time. Although the thought of Webb on his knees in front of me is a hot one." Clark picked up his jacket and shrugged it on while Harm tried not to think about that. He didn't like thinking about Clark wanting anyone but him, although he suspected that Clark had women when he was off on his trips. "All right, have your meeting and make sure he gets the hell out of here by eight, got it, boy?" His hand stroked Harm's cheek. "I've got plans for you."

Harm felt himself harden. Clark still wanted him, and he was relieved. "I'll do what I can."

"I'll make sure not to walk in on you." Clark laughed. "But every minute after eight he stays, you pay."

"I understand." Clark made the rules.

"Good." He leaned over and took Harm's lips with his own. When Clark pulled away, Harm was trembling. "Remember you belong to me, Harm."

"I know that, sir."

With that, Clark smiled and slipped out the door. Harm stood there for another long moment. Yes, he belonged to Clark Palmer, and he was glad he did. He took a deep breath. But now he needed to get ready to listen to Webb go on about the O'Malley case. What was the big deal? The man had been a prisoner of war, granted, but now he was back home. That was the way life went. Things happened, and you dealt with them. He made himself try to remember what it had been like, not knowing what had happened to his father, whether or not he was alive, but he couldn't. That time was so far away, like so much in his life now. The only times he felt alive were when he was with Clark.

He went into the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face. He was drying off when there was a knock on the door. It had to be Webb. Harm took another deep breath and put a smile on his face. This shouldn't take too long. He'd listen to Webb, make some notes, and go ahead with the case as he'd planned to all along, unless Webb had something really good for him.

He opened the door to find that yes, it was Webb standing there in his customary overcoat and glare.

"You going to let me in or not?"

Harm smiled and stepped back from the door. That was Webb, impatient and in a hurry. "Sure, Webb. Come on in."

As soon as the CIA agent got inside, he made a long survey of the room. "You've changed it."

Harm glanced around. Clark had told him to make the place more interesting, and he had tried. So far his attempts had pleased Clark, or at least not displeased him to any great extent. "It was boring." Webb was staring at him again, dark eyes frowning. "What is with you, Clay?" He deliberately used the more intimate term, hoping to take the other man off his guard. "You brought food?" He wasn't hungry, but it would change the subject.

Webb put a bag down on the counter and reached into it. "I got you some vegetarian noodles." He opened his container.

Harm made himself smile. Vegetarian. Clark had told him that he needed to stop this vegetarian shit, and he had. Obviously Webb hadn't found out about the change. "Thanks." He took out the remaining container and opened it, then couldn't help sighing. The smell wasn't too bad. He ought to be able to choke some of it down. "How much do I owe you?" Might as well get that over with, then he could say he wasn't hungry after a few bites and put it in the refrigerator, then toss it later.

"Don't worry about it." Webb was staring at him again. "Rabb, are you all right?"

"Fine." This was getting too personal, but one way to deflect Webb, in his experience, was to get even more personal. Webb hated that. "Got a new girlfriend." He gave Webb a lazy smile as he thought about Clark. "She's something else."

"Really. Whoever she is, she's into biting," Webb commented dryly.

Harm flushed. Oh, shit, had Clark bitten him where it would show? "My business, not yours."

"It looks bad."

Webb took a step closer, then another, and was touching his neck with gentle fingers. The gentleness was unexpected; what the hell was Webb doing being gentle? Harm pulled away. Clark would not like this.

"I'm fine. Leave it alone."

Webb didn't move. "Hell, Harm, the skin's hot. That's infected. You need to get it looked at. I can take you to the hospital now; I've got time. I hope your tetanus shot is up to date."

"It's up to date, so no need to go to the hospital. I'll put some antiseptic on it later." He should have checked. It was his responsibility to make sure no one saw anything they weren't supposed to. Dammit. Clark was going to be furious. He still did whatever medical stuff the Navy told him to, and he always remembered to warn Clark some time before his appointments, so that his body would pass inspection. He wasn't going to have some Navy doctor decide something was wrong. Nothing was wrong. This was the way his life was supposed to be. He was happy. He had Clark.

"You'll put antiseptic on it now. Come on, Harm. You know better than this." Webb was giving him that glare, but it wasn't going to work.

"No hospital."

Webb shrugged. "All right, no hospital." Harm could tell that Webb was humoring him, but that didn't matter. He wasn't going to let Webb get him in trouble. "Just let me take care of this, all right? It'll make me feel better."

"Why, Webb, I never knew you cared." Harm couldn't resist.

Webb didn't answer until they were in the bathroom and he had the bottle of antiseptic open. "Sorry to hear that. I thought we were friends." He dabbed on the liquid as Harm winced. "Keep still, Harm. It'll stop stinging in a minute."

Harm heard Webb's statement with an air of disbelief. Sure, they'd worked together, and maybe under other circumstances they could have been friends, but he had no room for that now. But of course Webb didn't know that. What would Clark have him do? He ended up asking himself that a lot these days, and he usually managed to do the right thing.

"Sure we're friends, Clay. I was just joking."

"Then you'll tell me what the hell's going on with you." Webb capped the bottle and frowned.

Harm made sure to smile. "Nothing's going on." Why did Webb have to push this? Didn't he have enough to deal with at the CIA without prying into things that didn't concern him?

Webb was giving him a long, serious look now. "I don't know why no one else has noticed, but you're different lately. Do you need help with something? You can tell me, you know." Webb's mouth twisted in what Harm thought was supposed to be a smile, but it didn't work, and looked awkward. "It was stupid of me to bring up your father. If you've come to peace with that, I'm glad for you. You want me to ask Chegwidden to assign someone else to help me with the O'Malley case?"

Harm felt something in him thaw. Webb was a good person, but he'd never understand. He smiled and shook his head. "I've been doing a lot of thinking lately, Clay. Nothing's wrong. This woman, you know..." He let his voice trail off, sure that Webb wouldn't push him to talk about his supposed girlfriend. That wasn't Webb's style.

Webb's eyes were thoughtful again. "All right, Harm. If you don't want to talk, I can't make you. Just know I'll help."

He turned away, and Harm sighed to himself. Just what he needed, Webb thinking something was wrong. He was going to have to do something about that, if he didn't want Clark to decide to take steps. Webb was just giving a damn, and that was fine, but he couldn't fuck this up for Harm.

*****

Harm ate about half the noodles, telling himself it was necessary to put Webb off whatever kick he was on now, while Webb ate his chicken over rice neatly and quickly, although he kept glancing at Harm. That told Harm that Webb was thinking about asking him again what was wrong.

"Clay, you've got to stop seeing problems everywhere you look. I'm fine." It was important to convince Webb of that. He checked the time. Shit. It was almost eight, and they hadn't even gotten to the case. "Listen, I've got someone coming over. Can we do this another time?"

He really didn't want to get punished because Webb had stayed late. He wanted to have a good evening with Clark, not a bad one. Clark was so important to him, and when he was pleased with Harm, he was very pleased. Harm would do just about anything to have that continue.

Webb put down the container and stood. "Certainly, Harm. I'll send you a message with the high points of my research. Should have thought of that earlier. Have a good time with your friend."

Harm watched Webb put on his coat. He looked damned tired. "You all right?"

Webb looked at him, and Harm could see what looked like gratitude in his eyes. "Thank you for asking. The Company's a bitch of a place to work." He put up his hand and rubbed his forehead. "I'll be fine."

Harm went with him to the door. "Why don't you leave them if they're shits to you?" He didn't understand. Clayton Webb was smart, damned smart; he'd succeed anywhere. Why the hell didn't he get out from under his father's shadow? That wouldn't get him anywhere. He almost said that, then decided not to. Webb had to figure it out for himself.

"I'm thinking about it," Webb returned. "I'll be in touch, Harm. Take care." He stared up at Harm for a long moment, then nodded. "Take good care of yourself," he repeated and turned away.

Harm closed the door and leaned against it. Webb leaving the CIA? He had to tell Clark this. But first, he had to get ready to welcome Clark back.

He threw out the rest of the dinner, then strode into the bedroom area, surrounded by screens that Clark had brought back from Japan, and stripped out of his clothes, leaving only his jeans on. Clark liked him in just tight jeans.

He heard the door opening quietly and made himself breathe as he knelt on the floor by the bed. He stared at the boards in the floor, focusing on the biggest knot. When Clark was ready, he'd start, and not before.

"I see Webb was good to you," he heard the familiar voice say. He looked up to see Clark smiling as he sat on the bed. His hand reached out to stroke Harm's hair. "He left right at eight. What did you tell him to get him running out of here like a scared mouse?"

Harm smiled at the image. "I told him I had a friend coming over, sir." He let himself relax and enjoy Clark touching him. Clark was pleased. That was good.

"Good job. Webb say anything interesting?"

Harm braced himself for Clark's anger. "He saw the bite on my neck, sir. He insisted on cleaning it."

"Damn." But there was only idle curiosity in Palmer's voice. "Should have been more careful, but you're too tempting." He laughed and put two fingers on the bite, pressing down until Harm let out a sharp hiss. "Hurts, doesn't it?"

"Yes, sir."

"I like you having marks. Maybe I'll put some more on you tonight."

"Whatever you want, sir."

If they were out of sight, it wouldn't be a problem, and he knew that Clark would make sure they were. There was a part of him that liked having the marks on him, even though they did hurt. Liked working at JAG and having it hurt to sit down, knowing that no one else knew what he knew, that he belonged to Clark Palmer. He wished he could tell everyone, but he'd never do anything to put Clark in danger. Never.

"I know that, boy." Sometimes Clark calling him that meant that Clark was angry, but tonight Clark's voice had only laughter. "Come here and get that mouth of yours on my cock. If you do a good enough job, I'll fuck you. You want that."

"Oh, yes," Harm whispered and got his hands up to undo Clark's pants.

He always loved when Clark fucked him, and it was even better when Clark was pleased with him. He thought for a moment about telling Clark that Webb had talked about leaving the CIA, and that he'd seemed worried, then decided against it. There was always later, and he'd gotten a direct order from Clark. He never disobeyed those.

He opened his mouth and took in Clark's hard cock, then heard Clark's low moan. He was doing what Clark wanted, what made Clark happy, and that was his real purpose now. Everything else was so much less, almost nothing, except that Clark wanted him to fit in.

Clark started thrusting into Harm's mouth, and Harm stopped thinking about anything other than pleasing Clark.

*****

"Commander, the admiral wants you in his office."

Harm stood. "I'll be right there, Tiner." Clark had told him to be very obedient to Admiral Chegwidden, to give Chegwidden nothing to worry about, and he wasn't going to stop that now.

He knocked at the door and went in as soon as he heard the barked "Enter." To his surprise, Clayton Webb was there, standing by the admiral's desk. Webb here? It couldn't be about the O'Malley case, because that was over. He'd gotten Webb's message, found a couple of things he could use, and had used them to get the man off the day after Webb had come over to his apartment. Damn, not another of his stupid secret missions. He didn't want to go off somewhere with Webb. Clark was still here, and it was going so well with him.

"Mr. Webb needs to speak with you," the admiral said as Webb nodded. "Here, Webb?"

"No, Admiral. I wouldn't want to put you out of your own office. Rabb and I will find somewhere private. Come on, Rabb."

"Excuse me, sir, but I don't understand." He didn't have to do what Webb said, and he wasn't going to. Webb was CIA; he was Navy. He looked to the admiral to get his orders.

"I don't understand either, Commander, but Mr. Webb assures me that it is of the greatest importance, and you will go with him."

"Yes, sir!"

He saluted, then glanced over at Webb. Webb looked wrong. There was a way that you could count on Clayton Webb to look, and this was definitely not it. He had on the same damned three-piece suit he always wore, the same kind of boring expensive tie, but his face was strange. Almost as strange as when he'd been over the other night.

Webb started out of the office, and Harm followed after the admiral dismissed him. "What's going on, Webb?"

Webb was heading toward the room they used for assigning cases. "Not in public, Rabb. Trust me on this one."

It had to be some kind of secret CIA shit. Damn, damn, damn. But he needed to be careful around Webb. Webb was smart enough and stubborn enough to make trouble. And anything he could bring Clark about what the CIA was interested in would make him happy. He'd told Clark what Webb had said about leaving the CIA, but Clark had just laughed.

"He was having you on. Clayton Webb will leave the CIA when they carry him out. Not before."

Harm hadn't told Clark that Webb had been acting weirder than usual. He knew he probably should have, but he didn't want Webb hurt. Hell, Webb thought they were friends. If Webb was stupid enough to start prying again, he'd tell Clark. That one Webb got for free. He owed the CIA agent that much.

He went into the room and waited for Webb to shut the door. "What's going on?"

"Sit down, Harm." What the hell was this? Webb was looking at him with what he could swear was compassion. Why the hell would Clayton Webb think he needed pity?

He gave Webb another of his best smiles and hoped that would help. Webb just sat down next to him. Usually Webb made sure to sit across from him.

"I'm going to tell you something, and then we need to go talk to Chegwidden." Webb's voice was quiet and controlled. "We can talk more about it later, but there's no time now. Do you understand?"

"Webb, for god's sake, I don't know what the hell's going on." He kept smiling. Had Webb lost his mind?

"I know you don't." Webb sighed. "Damn. All right." His head came up. "Harm, Clark Palmer is dead."

"Of course he is." What was Webb getting at? "He died in Leavenworth about six months ago, right?" He knew exactly how long it had been since Clark got out, but that wasn't anything Webb needed to know.

"No, Harm," Webb's voice was more gentle than Harm could remember having heard it, "he died this morning. We caught up with him as he left an apartment building north of Union Station. I believe you know the one I mean."

Harm stared. What the hell was Webb trying to say? This was a trick. He couldn't fall for it. "Listen, Webb, I don't know what the hell you're implying, but I'm not going to put up with this!" He stood, but Webb yanked him back down. Webb was stronger than he'd thought.

"This is the official version. Listen closely. You've been working with the CIA. We got a tip that Palmer was alive and would be coming after you, so we bugged your place with your consent. You kept him there, we came, and we killed him when he wouldn't come quietly."

Harm listened, but he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You bugged my place?" Webb couldn't have said what came after that.

"When I was over the other day." Webb met his angry stare with a calm one. "I knew something was wrong, but I thought," he let out a short laugh, "you'd gotten involved with an abusive woman."

Harm just stared, the words he didn't want to hear sinking in. "No," he whispered after a minute. Clark wasn't dead.

Webb closed his eyes, then opened them. "Yes, Harm. Now we're going to tell Chegwidden that you're under CIA protection for the indefinite future, so that those DSD people who will want to avenge him won't have a chance to get you."

The world had gone insane, or maybe it was just Webb who'd lost it, Harm thought, but it didn't seem to help. Clark dead? No.

Webb's eyes never let him have a moment. "I'll take you to see his body if you do what I tell you here. Do you understand, Harm?" There was something that Harm couldn't read in Webb's eyes. "You're assigned to me now." Webb was quiet a moment, then his mouth hardened, and he spoke again. "You belong to me, and you know what that means. I give you orders; you follow them."

There was an actual pain in Harm's chest. Webb telling him what to do. His Clark dead. Being alone. But no, if Webb was right, he wouldn't be alone. Webb would take over. Could Clayton Webb take over? No. Clark would not want this. He had to go find Clark. Clark was dead. He couldn't be dead. Not Clark. He'd just seen him this morning. Watched him grin and promise him a fucking that night. Could hear him now saying that he was in the mood for pork chops, the kind with the bones, and mashed potatoes. Clark couldn't be dead.

"Harm," the voice came sharply. "Dammit, Harm, stop that now." Then he was being shaken, and his eyes came open. Webb's face was taut and grim. "Do that again here, and I will not be happy. Is that clear?"

The answer came out automatically for that hard tone, even though it was the wrong man giving the order. "Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir." He shouldn't be saying that to Webb. Webb couldn't know. It was out of the question. Clark wouldn't like that, unless Clark had told him? Would Clark do that? He might if he thought it would help him get Webb.

"That's better." Webb let go of him. "Come with me." He led the way into the washroom. "Wash your face. And hurry up. We need to get out of here."

Harm swallowed and turned on the water. This couldn't be happening. Something was wrong with the world, and he wished that it would stop.

When he finished drying his hands, he turned to Webb, who was watching him. "I need to see Clark. Take me to him." Clark would make this make sense; Clark always did.

"You don't give the orders, Harm." Webb's voice was quiet, but definite. "We have to talk with Chegwidden now. You are to go in, answer his questions in the least number of words possible, and back my story. If you don't, your career will be ruined."

Harm smiled at that. His career? Who gave a damn? Clark had told him that there would come a day when he'd have to leave the Navy. If this was it, it was fine with him. The Navy meant nothing to him now.

"I see," Webb said after a moment. "All right, Harm, let me put it this way. If you don't do what I say, he won't be pleased with you. Are you willing to risk that?"

He folded his arms and waited. Harm swallowed. Clark not happy with him. But Webb had said he was dead. But that wasn't possible, and he couldn't risk having Clark displeased with him.

"All right. I'll do it. Then..." His voice faltered.

"Then I'll take you to him." Webb was staring at him, clearly waiting. "But only if you do everything as I've told you to. Is that clear?"

"Yes. It's clear."

Webb nodded and turned away. "Speak only if you're spoken to, and if you don't know what to say, say so. I'll handle as much as I can."

Webb sounded concerned, Harm thought in the dimness that was his mind. Whatever he was up to, it wasn't something he wanted to do. That was too bad. Webb was a nice enough guy. He hoped he'd be all right in a while. Maybe he could talk to Clark about a way to help Webb. Clark would usually listen if he begged, and keeping Webb away from them would be good. Maybe he and Clark had come to an agreement, and that was why Webb was here.

That thought made him relax. Of course. This was to keep Clark safe. Why hadn't he figured that out before? Clark and Webb were joining forces, just as Clark had wanted, and in time Webb would learn that he'd have to do as Clark said, although Harm hoped that Clark wouldn't use him sexually. Maybe he had someone who wanted Webb. Webb would look good on his knees. He made himself not smile at that. Clark would take care of it, just like he took care of everything.

*****

"One of my people involved in a CIA operation and Palmer on the loose? Why the hell didn't you bother to tell me this before, Webb?"

Admiral Chegwidden was in full swing, and Harm let himself relax a little. After all, this was clearly aimed at Webb, who was staring at the carpet and had been for a while now. Not like Webb to be so quiet. But it didn't matter, as long as Clark was fine. Webb was being an asshole, saying Clark was dead again here, but then Webb was an asshole, and it all had to be part of Clark's plan. Maybe he'd really upset Clark, and that was why Clark wanted him to be hurt with this story about him being dead. Or he was testing Harm. He wasn't going to fail this test. He knew Clark was alive.

"Need to know, Admiral. You didn't." Webb's head was raised now, and there was a grim smile on his face. "You can ream me out later. I need to get Rabb to a safe house. Unless you'd like to watch some DSD bastard shoot him."

That made the admiral stop. "You'd better make sure that doesn't happen, Webb," he growled.

"I'll do my best, Admiral." Webb glanced over at him. "Come on, Rabb."

"What about my cases?"

"We'll manage without you, Commander. I'm sure you've made notes?"

"Yes, sir." Harm stood at attention.

"Then there's no need to be concerned. And if Webb here comes through on his promises, we'll have another JAG lawyer in here to take over."

"Two, Admiral. I wouldn't want you to be inconvenienced. They should be here soon." Webb was over by him now. "Come on, Rabb. Now."

Webb sounded like Clark, he thought, and nodded. A 'yes, sir' to Webb would be out of place. He had to sound as he always had. Clark had told him that over and over. He kept his eyes on Admiral Chegwidden.

"Dismissed. And Webb, I'd better get regular reports from you on this situation."

"You will." Webb just sounded tired now. Harm wondered if whatever Clark was having him do was too much for him, then dismissed it. Clark knew what he was doing. He knew that as well as anyone. "Rabb."

Harm followed Webb out of the office. "I need my coat."

"Fine." Webb sounded even more tired now. "We'll go get it, but that's it."

Harm waited to speak again until they were in his office. "He's waiting for us?"

"Yes. He's waiting." Webb leaned against the doorframe. "Coat, Harm. I don't want to get stuck in traffic."

"Listen, it's not that bad." Harm didn't understand why he felt like he needed to offer reassurances, but he did. "You'll get used to doing what you're told." He pulled on his coat and smiled. "I know he's been looking forward to working with you." That wasn't quite what Clark had always said, but the trick was to get Webb calm. Clark would want that.

"Harm, for god's sake..." Webb's voice was angry, then he stopped. "Thank you for telling me." He sounded calmer, but strained. Right. Maybe talking about it here wasn't the smartest thing to do. "Now."

Harm was already heading toward the door. "Of course. I don't want to keep him waiting."

"No, of course not," Webb said in a distant voice and followed.

*****

"He's here?" Harm turned his puzzled look on Webb, who had just turned off the engine and was sitting.

"I told you I'd take you to him. This is where he is. Come on, Harm. He's waiting for you."

That was enough to get Harm out of the car. All right, it was a hospital. That didn't matter. Clark was here. "Hurry up, Webb."

"Right." Webb slammed the car door with a force that made Harm blink. "Follow me."

Harm walked with Webb into the hospital and then the elevator. Webb pushed a button, then leaned against the wall, his hand up at his eyes, covering them.

"Life at the CIA hard again?" It wouldn't hurt to make conversation. They were on the same side.

"Life is hard." Webb lowered his hand to stare at him, then sighed and replaced it.

"It'll get better." It seemed stupid to tell him that, but he needed to know. It was easier for him, he knew that much. Life before Clark had been full of stupid cases that he tore his heart out over and women who were nice, but never understood what he really needed. "You'll see."

"So you said." The elevator stopped. "I want you to be quiet now until we get to where he is."

Harm simply nodded. Quiet meant quiet.

"Good."

Webb got out of the elevator as soon as the doors opened and went down the hall to the right. Harm followed him. Strange place to meet Clark, underground, with hospital smells and worse around him. But Clark knew best.

They went into a large room that Harm knew was a morgue. He smiled to himself. Clark would think it was funny to meet in a place like this. Maybe he needed to check and see if the right body was there.

Webb had a low conversation with the man who'd greeted them when they entered, and the man left.

"All right. Here he is." Webb reached for one of the handles and pulled out the drawer to show a covered body. "Pull down the sheet, Harm."

Harm reached for the sheet with fingers that suddenly trembled. No. This had to be a joke.

When the face was uncovered, he simply stared. Webb was still beside him, hand on his shoulder, and the warmth felt good, but so far away. "Is that him, Harm?"

"He's dead." Harm raised his hand and touched Clark's shoulder. It was so cold, and Clark didn't move. "He's dead. He can't be dead." He heard his voice rise and made himself shut his mouth. This wasn't happening. He was dreaming. A horrible dream, but he'd wake up.

"I know," Webb said quietly. "I tried to tell you before. Take these."

Harm blinked and saw that Webb was holding out two red pills and a glass of water to him. "No."

"I told you, you belong to me now. Take them."

Somehow that sounded right to him. Had Webb killed Clark? Was that why he said that? He couldn't think any more, didn't want to. When Webb pushed the pills into his mouth, he swallowed them, then sipped the water from the cup that Webb held to his lips.

Then Clark was gone. Harm reached out to pull the drawer out again, but Webb's hand was there.

"Come with me, Harm. We're going somewhere safe."

Safe. Safe was here, with Clark. But Webb was staring at him, and there was something in his eyes that made Harm nod and turn away. Webb owned him now. All right. Clark had made him see that he needed that, and maybe it would all make sense in a little while. It had to. He didn't think he could manage if it didn't.

*****

The place that Webb took him was a small house with trees around it, far away from any other houses. Harm gave it a look, then found his eyes closing. He kept doing that, and he couldn't. He wasn't allowed to sleep without permission when his owner was there. Clark. Clark was gone. He'd seen his body. Webb owned him now. How could Webb own him? Did Webb know how? What would Webb want from him? He couldn't think straight, and he had to.

"It's all right, Harm." Webb's hand was on his shoulder again, so warm. "It will be all right. I'll take care of you."

That would be nice. He needed to be taken care of. Clark always took care of him. Clark. Cold and dead. How had he died? He had to know. But he couldn't ask.

"Harm, say something."

"I'm tired," was what came out. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Clark would hit him for that. He wasn't supposed to complain.

But Webb's hand tightened on his shoulder. "It's the pills." He'd never heard Clayton Webb talk this way, so gentle and kind. "You can sleep when we get inside."

That would be good. Maybe he was asleep now. Could that be it? Yes, that could be. Strange dream. He smiled. "I'm sleeping now."

"I'm sorry, Harm. You're not. But we'll talk later. We need to talk. I need you to tell me all about Palmer."

"I saw him dead," Harm whispered. Webb sighed.

"I know. I did, too."

Webb got out of the car while Harm tried again to think. No, couldn't. He kept stopping on the horrible sight of Clark dead. Clark must have given him to Webb. He'd ask. He'd been told to say something. Maybe that meant it was still all right to speak.

"Did Clark give me to you?"

Webb had the door open. "Yes. He gave you to me. Get out, Harm."

Then it was all right. Clark knew what he was doing. If Clark wanted him to be with Webb, it would be fine. He made himself push off the seat. He belonged to Webb now, and he had to behave.

Webb was waiting for him, and Harm immediately lowered his head. He didn't know what Webb wanted from him, but until he was told, he'd behave the way Clark had taught him to act around men who knew what he was.

"Look at me, Harm." Webb's voice had some irritation in it, and Harm quickly raised his eyes. Damn, he'd gotten something wrong already. But Webb didn't look that upset. "That's better. Into the house. Now."

Orders. He knew how to deal with those. "Yes, sir." He started for the front door and felt Webb keep step with him. When he got there, he waited by the door while Webb got out a set of keys and unlocked the door, then went in as soon as it was opened. Webb had said 'now'.

"This way." Webb kept going, and Harm followed him. Sleep. He wanted, needed to sleep so much. Webb had told him he could sleep. "This is your room. You'll sleep here, stay here if I tell you to. You understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"One thing, and this is important." Webb stepped closer to him, and Harm made himself focus on him. Did Webb want him to do something now? He would, but he hoped it wouldn't be too hard. Standing was hard enough. "My name is Clayton. You'll call me that."

"Yes, Clayton." He could certainly do that. Clark had let him call him by name sometimes, and he'd learned reasonably well when it was all right. But he was so tired.

"Sit."

He could do that too. Then Webb, no, Clayton, he had to remember that, was undoing the buttons on the front of his uniform, and even though he knew it was wrong for his owner to be waiting on him, it felt so good, and it was Clayton's prerogative to do anything he wanted, so he sat there as ordered and let him.

He was asleep before Clayton pulled off his pants.

*****

When Harm woke, he looked around and frowned. What the hell? Strange place. Clark. Where was Clark? Harm knew that he wasn't on a case, so Clark must have brought him here. He'd have to wait and see. But it should be all right to go to the bathroom, and he needed to.

He sat up, swung his legs out over the side, and put his feet on the floor. Now where was the bathroom? He couldn't remember. He rubbed his forehead. All right, maybe Clark had brought him here in his sleep? Something was wrong with that thought, but he couldn't figure it out now.

"Good morning, Harm."

With the calm greeting, it all came back. Clark was dead. He belonged to Clayton Webb now. He heard a whimper come out of his throat and tried to stop it, but he couldn't.

Webb came over to the bed and sat down next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. He'd done that yesterday, was it yesterday?, when they'd seen Clark's body. "What were you going to do, Harm?"

He tried to think, but it was so hard now. "I'm sorry, sir. I can't remember."

"We went over this yesterday, but I'll excuse you, since you were drugged. My name is Clayton. You will call me that."

That was right. "Yes, Clayton."

"Good." There was a squeeze from the hand on his shoulder, then it was taken away. "Tell me how you're feeling."

How he was feeling. Did Clayton mean his body? Probably. "I'm fine, Clayton. I can do anything you want." It was important that he not disappoint Clark. No. Clark would never know about this. God, no. He couldn't do this, but he had to.

"Harm. You're not fine." Clayton sighed, then muttered, "Maybe that was too general a question. All right. Are you sad?"

He had to answer honestly, and it was an easy question, even though he didn't think it was one he should be asked. "Yes."

Clayton nodded. "Good. Are you tired?"

"No."

"Are you hungry?"

"Yes."

"All right. Go take a shower and use the bathroom if you need to." That's right; he'd been going to do that. "Then come into the kitchen. It's right down the hall. If you can't find it, call for me, and I'll come get you." Clayton stood. "Now, Harm."

Damn. Why was he so slow? He knew better than that. "I'm sorry, Clayton."

"You are going to do as you're told." There was no room for disagreement in that statement, and Harm just stared. Yes, of course he would. "I require an answer, Harm."

"Yes, Clayton."

"Good. Stand."

He was not doing well. Clark would be so angry. He hated when Clark was angry. But Clark was gone. No. He stood.

"Good. Go do as I told you."

Clayton turned and left, and Harm began to shake. Clark was gone. He belonged to Clayton Webb now. He had been given an order. Somehow that helped, and he got himself into the bathroom. He'd do as he was told; he always did if he could, and then he'd go find out what his new owner wanted from him.

*****

When he got to the kitchen, dressed in the t-shirt and jeans and sneakers that had been put out for him, he found Clayton Webb sitting at the table. "Good." Clayton stood, and Harm saw that he was wearing similar clothes. Clayton Webb in jeans. He'd never thought he'd see that, would have bet Clayton didn't own a pair. "Sit down. I'll get your food."

This was wrong. He was the one who prepared and served meals, not his owner. But this was Clayton, and he'd have to learn what he wanted. He knew that he had to follow orders. That couldn't have changed.

He sat in the near chair and hoped that was all right. Clayton brought over a mug of coffee and set it down in front of him. "Take these." He was holding out two pills, blue this time. "Now, Harm." His voice was sharp suddenly, and Harm took them from his hand, then put them into his mouth, swallowing with a sip of the hot coffee. "Better. Now have some more coffee." His voice was quieter now. "How do you like your eggs?"

Harm just stared at him. He couldn't be asking him that, could he? After a moment Clayton sighed. "Right. Simple questions, no preferences."

Harm didn't understand why Clayton had said that, but he knew he'd done something wrong by not answering. "I'm sorry, Clayton. However you'd like to cook them." Or was this a test? He stood. "How would you like them? I can cook."

"I'm sure you can. But I gave you an order, Harm, and it was not to cook. Coffee. Sip it. And sit down. I'm making breakfast."

Clayton turned away, and Harm felt his mouth tighten as he sat again. Couldn't he do anything right? He had to learn what Clayton required. Maybe Clayton liked cooking, he thought to himself. That would explain it. He picked up the mug and sipped as he'd been ordered, watching Clayton break the eggs into a red bowl and whisk them. It made Harm smile to see him work. Clayton did everything with a quiet confidence: scrambled the eggs, put bread in the toaster, then dished the eggs onto two plates and added the toast that he'd even buttered. Everything came out at the right time.

"Eat all of it."

Clayton put the plate in front of him, then sat down with his own plate and started eating. Harm stared for a moment, then made himself pick up his fork. Clayton had given him an order, and he was going to obey it.

*****

After breakfast and the dishes, which Clayton told him to wash, they went into another room, a small one with a desk and two chairs.

Harm stood, waiting, as Clayton sat in front of the computer and turned it on. "Sit down. In the chair."

"Yes, Clayton." He was glad Clayton had clarified his order. It was hard to know sometimes.

Clayton turned around to face him. "I'm going to ask you questions about Clark Palmer, and you're going to answer them."

Harm stared. No. He couldn't do that. Clark had made it clear that he was not to talk about him to anyone else. But Clark was dead. He blinked away the tears that threatened. He wasn't going to cry again.

"Harm, you belong to me. You will do as I say. Is that clear?" Clayton's eyes and words were calm, and they helped Harm calm down.

"Yes, Clayton."

"Good." Clayton picked up a sheet of paper and glanced at it, then set it down on the desk. "Did Palmer tell you what to wear?"

Huh? But he could answer that, and he did. "Yes."

"Did he tell you what to eat?"

"Yes." This wasn't what Harm had been expecting, but he could answer questions like these.

"What if he told you to eat something you didn't like?"

"I ate it." What else could he do?

Clayton glanced at the piece of paper again. "Did he choose the sheets?"

"Yes."

"What color did he prefer?"

"White." Plain white sheets, washed over and over before Harm put them on the bed, so that they were soft.

"Did he let you sleep in the bed with him?"

"When I was good."

"Did he decide that you were good often?"

Harm stared for a moment, and Clayton rephrased.

"Did he decide that you were good more nights than not?"

"Yes."

"Where did you sleep when he didn't let you sleep in the bed?"

"On the floor."

"You won't be sleeping on the floor here."

"Thank you, Clayton."

"You're welcome."

Clayton's answer surprised Harm, and he didn't know what to say. But Clayton went on the next question.

Harm realized soon that all of the questions were about Clark and how Clark had treated him when they were together. Clayton wanted to know about that? But Harm could answer, and he did, although it was hard to think about that. But soon he felt himself get calmer. Maybe the drugs were doing that.

"I gave you a mild sedative," Clayton said, and Harm realized he'd said that thought out loud. "I don't want you upset. Surely you can understand that."

Of course he did. He had to be calm and ready to do what he was told, not cry like some baby. "I understand, Clayton."

Clayton took a long look at him. "That's enough for now. I'll have more questions later." He swivelled around and typed as Harm sat there. It felt nice to relax. Then he heard Clayton again. "Do you have any questions for me?"

Questions? He wasn't allowed to ask questions, but Clayton had asked, and last night, when he'd spoken out of turn, Clayton hadn't been angry.

"Harm, I don't want you confused. If there's something you want to ask, ask it. I'm giving you permission to ask me questions."

That was clear. He would ask this. He shouldn't, but he couldn't resist any longer. "How did Clark die?" The thought didn't make him want to cry or anything stupid like that, and he was glad that Clayton had given him those pills.

Clayton gave him a long look before he answered. "When we went to take him, he pulled a gun and shot three of my agents before one of mine shot him, then he was shot again in the chest, and," Clayton sighed, "that was it. He died soon after."

Harm was quiet, thinking about that. Clark had always told him he wouldn't go back to jail, and maybe if Clark had to die, it was better it had been quickly. "Thank you for telling me, Clayton."

"You're welcome. He told him before he died that you were mine now. I have a witness if you need proof."

He didn't need that. He could tell that Clayton was telling the truth, and he wasn't stupid enough to contradict something his owner said. "No, Clayton. I belong to you. I know that."

Clayton was quiet a moment. "Yes, I see you do. Go to your room, Harm. There are books and magazines to read, and you may want to sleep. Remember to drink water. I'll come get you when I want you again."

Harm stood automatically. But wasn't Clayton going to use him? It didn't look like it. Clayton had already turned back to the computer and was typing again. It was up to Clayton to decide what he got and when he got it, he reminded himself as he headed for his room. He went to the bathroom for some water, then sat on the bed, drinking it, until he couldn't keep his eyes open. He just barely got the glass on the night stand before he fell asleep.

*****

Harm sat at the table a few days later in the late morning sun, reminding himself that this was what Clayton had told him to do and therefore it was all right. Clark had not let him sit with him often, but it was different with Clayton than it had been with Clark. He made himself push that thought out of his mind. He belonged to Clayton now. He was Clayton's. He was not allowed to think about anyone else. Clayton had never said that, but he knew. Clark had not liked it when he thought about Jordan or Annie or any other woman, and he'd known every time, and beaten him for it. He never liked those beatings. He breathed. There. That was better. He was fine now. Clayton had even stopped giving him the sedatives.

Clayton glanced over at him. "Drink your water, Harm."

Even his orders were calm and mild, but they were orders, and Harm was already lifting the glass to his lips. "Yes, Clayton," he got out before taking a mouthful.

Clayton was still looking at him. "Good. Time to think about lunch." He stood, went over to the refrigerator, and came back with a pile of paper that he put down in front of Harm. They were take-out menus. "Pick one." He rested his hand on Harm's shoulder for a moment, then took it away, sat down again, and picked up his book.

Harm stared at him. Pick one? But he didn't know what Clayton wanted to eat, didn't know what he felt like today. But Clayton had told him to ask when he had a question, so he swallowed another mouthful of water and spoke.

"Clayton, excuse me." He hoped that was respectful enough. He wasn't sure.

Clayton lowered his book. "Yes, Harm."

"What did you want me to pick?" That should be clear enough. There were so many choices here: Chinese, Thai, Italian, Greek, even a place that billed itself as 'real American home cooking'. That sounded good, but there was no way he could see Clayton liking that.

"I gave you an order, Harm. I expect you to carry it out." Clayton didn't look angry, just calm. "Choose one of those menus, not randomly, and then hand your choice to me. Is that clear now?"

He'd fucked up. He swallowed again. "Yes, sir," he whispered.

"Harm." Now there was something angry in Clayton's eyes. "You do not call me 'sir'. Please don't forget that again."

Damn. It was not being a good day at all. He'd made Clayton angry, fucked up twice. "I'm sorry, Clayton."

Clayton simply nodded and picked up his book. Harm stared at him, forgetting about the need to choose a menu. What about his punishment?

Clayton didn't even look up this time. "What is it?"

He must have made a sound. "Where would you like me to wait, Clayton?" He hoped he was saying this right. He didn't know how to behave when he'd screwed up with Clayton yet.

Clayton was looking at him now. "Wait. And what would you be waiting for?"

So Clayton wanted him to say it. All right. If that pleased him. "For my beating. Or whatever else you decide to do to me." It was not his place to tell Clayton how to treat him. Clayton must have his own requirements, and he'd learn to take them.

"You haven't carried out my last order yet, Harm. When you do, then we'll deal with that."

Right. Damn. What was wrong with him? Clark would have...no. This was Clayton. Clayton owned him now. But it was so hard, so different. Harm started looking at the menus more carefully. Pick one, that was what Clayton had said, and not randomly. Maybe this was a test. He lifted his head and studied Clayton, then lowered it. He did need to get to know him better. That was clear. And he would. That thought calmed him. He would do this right. He would relax, trust his instincts, and pick.

After that, it was easy. He handed his choice to Clayton.

"All right. Chinese it is." Clayton was smiling as he opened the menu, and Harm let himself relax. He'd pleased Clayton. "What did you want?"

Harm froze. What did he want? What kind of question was that? But Clayton was waiting for an answer. He grabbed at the first dish that came into his head. "Beef fried rice." One of Clark's favorites, he thought. Damn. Clark was dead. He blinked. He had to stop that. He belonged to Clayton Webb, and he would learn to be happy with that. It would take time, but it had taken time for him to know that he needed to belong to Clark. It helped to remember that.

Clayton was staring at him. "You miss him."

Harm didn't know what to say. He couldn't tell his new owner that he missed the old one, but he did. "I'm sorry, sir." That should do it. But shit, he'd done it again. "I'm so sorry, Clayton. Please punish me." Clayton hadn't punished him for anything yet, but he deserved it three times, maybe even four now.

It was a moment before Clayton answered. "All right." He stood. "Come with me, Harm."

Harm stood, too. This felt right. He'd fucked up, he'd pay for it, and then it would be all right again. Clayton would show him how to behave, make him do as he was told. That was how it was supposed to be.

They ended up in the living room. Clayton frowned, then opened a cabinet and started looking through it. Harm kept his eyes averted and wondered what Clayton would use on him. He thought about stripping, but he hadn't been given the order to, and he didn't want to fuck up again.

"Here." Clayton was holding out a book to him. "I want you to read the first chapter, and then you'll answer my questions about it over lunch. Get started."

Clayton Webb's idea of punishment was reading a book?

"You expect me to beat you." Clayton knew. How could he not know? Harm breathed. "I'm not Clark Palmer. You're going to have to get used to that. You're not going to disobey me."

And for a moment there was something so familiar about the look in Clayton Webb's eyes that Harm couldn't help it: he sank to his knees. "No, Clayton." He was so hard. This could work; it would work. Clayton owned him. Yes. He bowed his head and waited. Anything, he thought. He would do anything for Clayton.

"God," he heard Clayton whisper, then nothing but the sound of someone breathing harshly, not him. He knew how he sounded. It had to be Clayton, but Clayton hadn't used him yet. Hadn't told him to do anything real for him, just housework and small things and now this reading. What was Clayton waiting for? He didn't have to wait.

He dared a glance up. Oh, yes, Clayton wanted him. He could see how hard Clayton was. Maybe Clayton wanted him to offer? He'd try. He reached up and stroked Clayton's crotch. His mouth was filling with saliva, and both his mouth and his ass felt empty. He needed this.

"Please let me suck you. I want to so much; please, Clayton, I know I don't deserve it, but please. You deserve it. Let me do this for you."

Clayton didn't move, just breathed even more harshly, and Harm licked his lips. He was finally going to get to make Clayton happy. He eased down the zipper gently, then took out the leaking cock. Oh, yes. But he didn't know how Clayton liked it. He'd have to learn.

He took the head into his mouth, gently, running his tongue over it and getting a gasp from Clayton. Good, he was doing good. He took in more and started sucking. Clayton was trembling, and Harm wondered if he should somehow get Clayton over where he could sit. Clayton needed to be comfortable. He saw that the couch was right behind Clayton and reached up to Clayton's hips, then pushed, making sure his lips were over his teeth just in case. He didn't know if Clayton liked biting yet, and he wasn't going to injure the man who owned him. His mouth was full of his owner's cock, and it was right again; he would be all right as long as he kept getting this.

Clayton was on the couch now, and Harm started working in earnest, sucking harder, wishing he could use his hands, but not daring again without permission; he was taking a lot on himself as it was, then sliding his mouth up and down the hard shaft. Suddenly there were hands in his hair, and for a moment it was so right; Clayton was going to fuck his mouth and come; that had to be it, but it wasn't. Clayton was pulling his head back.

"Stop, Harm. Stop right now." Clayton couldn't mean that, but Harm did what he was told. How could Clayton want it to stop? Was he not doing as well as he'd thought?

"I'm sorry, Clayton." He didn't know what to do now.

Clayton's hands were out of his hair, and he'd gotten his cock back in and was doing up the zipper. "I accept your apology. Don't do that again unless I tell you to."

So that was it. He had to wait for what he needed. All right, he'd wait. But Clayton had been right there and so hard and tasting so good...but his owner had spoken. "Yes, Clayton."

"Stand."

"Yes, Clayton."

He got to his feet and stood in front of Clayton, who was still sitting. His cock throbbed. Would Clayton fuck him now? Maybe that was why he'd made him stop. But instead Clayton motioned to him to step back, then stood, and Harm stared down at the brown hair before he focused on Clayton's cool face.

"Sex is a reward for you?"

Harm felt his breath get short. Oh, yes. "Yes, Clayton."

"Then why should I let you have it when you're being punished?"

He hadn't thought of that. "You're right, Clayton. I was wrong."

"Sit here on the couch. Read the chapter. Stay here until I come to get you."

Clayton was by him and out of the room before he could answer. Harm blinked, then sat. The book was on the floor, and he leaned over to get it. The pressure on his cock made him groan. He needed to come so badly. It had been days. He was used to waiting, but not when his owner was around, and Clayton was his owner now. That thought was easier. Good.

He opened the book and looked at the title page. A Tale of Two Cities, by Charles Dickens. He thought he'd read it in high school, but he didn't remember much about it. He turned the pages to the beginning of the first chapter and started reading.

*****

"Lunch." Harm looked up at the word and the brief touch to his shoulder. "You finished the chapter." It wasn't a question.

"Yes, Clayton." He stood when Clayton took his hand away and gestured to him. There was a sense of peace in him, even though he could feel his cock still hard and throbbing. Clayton could and would command him, and he needed that so much.

He followed Clayton into the kitchen and almost smiled at the familiar smell of Chinese food.

"Sit, Harm. I'll get the food."

He sat, but couldn't keep quiet. "Clayton, may I please do this for you?" He couldn't just sit around being waited on. It was wrong, even if it was what Clayton wanted. Even if it got him punished again.

Clayton frowned, and Harm knew that meant he was thinking. "Palmer would have had you serve him, wouldn't he?"

Harm swallowed. It was hard hearing Clark's name from his new master, but he would take this. "Yes, sir. Clayton," he corrected himself hastily. "I'm sorry, Clayton."

"Very good, Harm. You did very well correcting yourself." So it was all right to make a mistake if he corrected himself quickly? That was different, and very kind of Clayton. "No, you may not do this, but it is all right to ask if there's something you would like to do or feel you need to do. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Clayton."

"Good."

Clayton was smiling now, and Harm let himself relax. He was doing all right; he was pleasing his master. This was how it should be, even if Clayton wouldn't let him please him in all the ways he wanted to.

His eyes followed Clayton as he stood, serving the food. Would Clayton ever let him have any more of that cock he'd sucked? Ever fuck him? Ever give him what he needed? It was up to Clayton to decide what he got, he reminded himself. Sometimes Clark had done things he hadn't liked and had hurt him, but that had been his prerogative, and now it was Clayton's. Whatever Clayton gave him, he needed to be properly grateful for. Needed to appreciate it so that Clayton would keep him. He couldn't even think about Clayton deciding he wasn't worth his time and effort. He wouldn't think about that.

"Harm." The quiet voice brought him out of his thoughts. "Eat your food. I split the dishes between us." Clayton sat down across from him. "Is something wrong?"

"No, Clayton. I'm fine."

He wasn't supposed to lie, but he wasn't supposed to complain, either. He was fine. Waiting for what he wanted was something he lived with even with...no, he wasn't going to think of him now. He squeezed his eyes shut. He would do this. He had to do this.

When he opened his eyes again, Clayton was staring at him. "No, you're not, but we'll deal with that later. Eat your lunch."

Clayton nodded to Harm's plate, and Harm picked up his fork and started in on the beef with bitter melon that Clayton had chosen.

*****

Harm finished before Clayton and sat watching his owner eat. He didn't dare say anything, not that he knew what he'd say if he did dare. He'd answered the few questions Clayton had had about the chapter and been relieved when Clayton smiled at one of his answers. Maybe it would be all right. But then Clayton had told him to be quiet and eat more, and Harm had remembered that they were going to deal with what was wrong with him. He wondered what Clayton would decide to do.

Clayton wiped his lips with one of the paper napkins that had come with the food. "Take the silverware and plates over to the sink and rinse them, then put them in the dishwasher, Harm."

Harm stood immediately and reached for Clayton's plate and fork, then piled them on his own and did as he'd been told. This was familiar; this was right.

"Very good." He turned to see Clayton's smile. He liked seeing that, and he could feel that he was smiling back. "Sit down." Harm took his seat again. Clayton studied him, and finally nodded. "We didn't talk about sex earlier. You like sex, I know that. And I know you want it."

"Yes, Clayton." Did this mean that he was going to have to talk to Clayton about sex? Clark had made him go into detail about his sexual experiences, fantasies, desires, and he'd managed that. So why did it feel hard to think about telling Clayton the same? Because he was still Clayton Webb, he thought suddenly. And he'd never thought of Clayton Webb as someone who would own someone else. But Clayton did own him.

"You want it now."

Harm swallowed at the smile on Clayton's face. How did he look that cool and that predatory at the same time?

"That's good, because I want you now." Clayton stood. "Come with me, Harm."

Harm pushed back his chair and stood. He wondered where they were going as he followed Clayton. They ended up in Harm's bedroom, and Harm found himself breathing hard as Clayton came up to him, his eyes intense and his cheeks flushed. Clayton wanted him.

"You want me." Clayton's smile was still predatory as he put his hands on either side of Harm's body. Harm couldn't help moaning. It had been too long. "Take off your clothes, Harm. I want to see you."

He fumbled with the sneakers, the shirt, and the jeans, but finally he was naked. Clayton was still dressed, he saw, and he bit back a plea for him to take something off, anything. It was up to Clayton.

"Tell me what you're thinking right now." Clayton's voice was all dark promise.

That was an order in any language he knew. "I want to see you." It was hard to be that bold, but if that was what Clayton wanted, and if it would please him, he would say it. Clayton was different, but that was all right. It even felt good that he was. It made it easier to see him, instead of, Harm took a breath, Clark. Clark would want him to please Clayton. Clark had given him to Clayton. He was Clayton's. He hadn't been abandoned. With those thoughts, his breath came faster. "Please, Clayton."

Clayton smiled and reached out to rub the pad of his finger over Harm's right nipple, which was already hard. Harm groaned and clenched his hands into fists. He wanted more so much.

"You'll see me when it's the right time. Sit on the bed, Harm."

Sit on the bed? But that was what Clayton wanted, so he did it, then saw Clayton kneel on the floor. No, that was wrong; that couldn't be. He tensed, then Clayton's fingers were on his cock, and the tenseness became anticipation.

"You belong to me. I can do whatever I want with you." Clayton's voice was still so soft and dark, and it made Harm want him even more. Clayton could do anything with him, but Clayton shouldn't be on his knees. *He* was the one who should be kneeling on the floor. "I know you want me to suck you, Harm. Say it."

Harm opened his mouth to answer, but what came out was a moan. Clayton had the head of his cock in his mouth, and it had been so long since anyone had done that.

"Please," he choked, then felt Clayton take more of his cock in. So hot and wet and the sucking so strong, and god, he was going to come if he got more of that. He should tell Clayton he was going to come, but words were too hard.

But Clayton pulled back. "I like you like this." His hand squeezed the base of Harm's erection, and the need to come died away to a bearable level. "But I want more from you." He let go of Harm and stood.

He was smiling again, and Harm tried to smile back, but he wanted this too much. Needed it. Would Clayton fuck him? Please. He couldn't ask for that without more permission than he had now, and it was all up to Clayton, anyway. Yes. That was how it should be. Maybe Clayton would let him get on his knees now. Maybe he would even let him come.

His eyes followed Clayton as the other man bent over to untie and step out of his shoes, then took off his shirt and his pants. Why hadn't he ever noticed how good Clayton Webb looked? Because first he hadn't known he needed a man to own him, and then he'd had Clark, who did not like him looking at women, let alone other men. But now he could notice, and he was. Smooth chest, strong legs, and a firm ass. And his hair falling down over his forehead. That made him smile until he saw Clayton's ass again. He swallowed and stared. Oh, god, a great ass.

Clayton laid the rest of his clothes over a chair, then turned back to him. "What do you want, Harm?"

What did *he* want? But he didn't know what Clayton wanted him to say. He just stared.

"Tell me what you want, Harm, or you won't get anything, and I won't be happy about that." Clayton was smiling at him. "Just one thing. Say it."

One thing. He could do that. "I want your hands on me." God, he hoped that was the right thing.

Clayton ran his tongue over his lips. "Very good, Harm." He sat down next to Harm, then reached out to finger both Harm's nipples this time, rubbing them, then pinching them. Harm moaned, and Clayton laughed softly and let his fingers stroke down Harm's chest, and Harm felt the head of what had to be Clayton's cock brush against his thigh. "I really like you like this."

Good. He was pleasing Clayton, and he was going to get more. "Thank you, Clayton."

"You want to go down on me, don't you, Harm? Like you did before?"

God, yes. Harm nodded.

"Then do it."

Yes. This was the way it should be. He slid off the bed and onto his knees, not caring that it hurt. He reached over to take Clayton's cock in his mouth and started sucking, paying attention to Clayton's responses to make it better for him. Soon Clayton was moaning, and Harm felt himself getting even harder. He was pleasing Clayton, and it was what he wanted. What he needed.

He felt Clayton thrust into his mouth and started sucking harder. His owner would get his best effort, get whatever he wanted, and he would get what he was given.

It took longer than he thought it would to get Clayton to come, but it was so good to have his mouth and throat filled with come. He swallowed over and over and made himself concentrate on getting used to the new taste of Clayton's come. Clark was gone. He had seen his body. He was Clayton Webb's now.

He drew off his mouth and glanced up to see Clayton's flushed face. "Thank you."

"Thank you," Clayton whispered.

Harm smiled at that. Only Clayton Webb would thank the man he owned for something he could have just by a gesture.

"Come up here." Clayton's voice was low and commanding now, and it made Harm shiver as he obeyed. Clayton got his hand around Harm's cock, making Harm groan. "I want you to come for me. You deserve this."

And with that, Clayton started working him. Harm let himself enjoy it. He deserved it? All right. Whatever his owner wanted, he thought through the dimness and arousal. His eyes closed after the first few strokes, so when he felt the warmth of Clayton's mouth replacing the fingers, he gasped. When had Clayton moved? He was too close to protest, too close to care about anything more than coming, and soon he did come, trembling as he let go.

Clayton stood, resting his hand on Harm's shoulder for a moment as a smile passed over his face, then went over to the chair with his clothes. "Get dressed, Harm."

All right. Harm made himself stand. He'd pleased Clayton, and he'd been allowed to come, and now it was time to get back to whatever else Clayton wanted him to do.

*****

The days passed quietly. Harm did chores around the house and Clayton cooked; they took walks when the weather was good and watched movies at night. It was a very simple life, and it made Harm feel safe. Sometimes Clayton talked to him about the movies or food or the birds that flew by, and he replied as well as he could, and other times Clayton took him into the bedroom for sex, Clayton jerking him off or going down on him, but always after he'd sucked off Clayton. Harm wondered why Clayton didn't fuck him, but that was Clayton's decision, not Harm's. Punishment was reading books he'd never choose for himself and having to answer questions about them, and even worse, no sex and always that disappointed look in Clayton's eyes.

Harm couldn't stand that look. It made him want to go down on his knees and beg Clayton to do anything, beat him, fuck him hard and painfully, put him through any series of paces he wanted, just as long as he stopped looking at him that way. But the one time he did, Clayton gave him a long look, ordered him to stand, then sent him off to his room, where he spent the rest of the day. When Clayton came to get him for dinner, he said nothing about the incident, just rested his hand on Harm's shoulder in the way that always felt so safe and comforting before he told Harm to stand, and Harm knew that it was over. He thought about asking Clayton why he'd given him that look, but the look was gone, and he wasn't going to do anything to bring it back. Asking might do that.

The nights were bad. Harm kept waking from nightmares where he saw Clark's body again, but now it was rotting, parts missing, and Clark rising up and reaching for him. There were other ones: Clark telling him he was worth nothing, that the only reason Clark had kept him was for revenge; Clark beating him until Harm knew he was going to die; Clark staring at him with cold contempt, then walking away. The one thing he was proud of was that he wasn't waking Clayton. Clayton shouldn't have to lose sleep because of him, and he didn't want Clayton to know he was having nightmares about Clark. Clayton might think that he didn't want to belong to him, and that wasn't true. Belonging to Clayton Webb was good. In many ways, it was better than belonging to Clark. It was all right to think that, he told himself one night when he woke, shaking, his fist crammed in his mouth to keep in the screams and the sobs. It was all right to like being Clayton's. He was doing what he was supposed to do, was being what he was supposed to be. Clark would understand. And Clark was dead. It didn't matter what Clark thought any longer.

That was harder to deal with in a way than the nightmares, but it was the truth. It didn't matter what Clark would think of his behavior; what mattered was what Clayton thought. The longer he was with Clayton, the more he liked being Clayton's, and that was how it should be.

Harm wondered how long they were going to stay in the small house. Clayton owned him, so he could do whatever he wanted, but Harm couldn't see Clayton Webb spending the rest of his life there. Clayton had a life. At some point, he would have to go back to it and take Harm with him, but Clayton seemed fine with how things were. Clayton never left except to go shopping. Clayton made calls at times, Harm knew from seeing him take out his phone before he sent Harm away, but no one called him or came over. It was wrong. This wasn't how Clayton Webb was. He thought he remembered Clayton saying something about the DSD being after him, but there was no DSD. Why had Clayton said that? And was he remembering correctly? It was still hard to think about that time when he'd learned that Clark was dead.

*****

Harm sighed and shifted in his seat as the credits rolled. He hoped he wouldn't have a nightmare tonight, but soon he'd find out.

"Say it."

Harm looked away from the TV screen, which had gone to black. Clayton's eyes were calm, but then they were always calm. Clayton was very good at being in control, maybe even better than Clark.

"There's something on your mind, Harm. I want to know what it is."

"Are the DSD after me?" It was a place to start.

"No. I said that so that the Admiral wouldn't question me taking you away from JAG."

That made sense to Harm, and he nodded.

"Keep going, Harm. I want to know what's got you looking so worried."

"I belong to you."

For a moment Harm thought he saw that look of disappointment again, but then it was gone, and he told himself he'd imagined it. "Yes, you do. Does that worry you?"

"No, sir. Clayton." He still had problems with that. Clayton nodded, and Harm knew he'd managed to correct himself in time. "But your job, Clayton. The CIA." Clayton said nothing, and Harm knew he had to be clearer. "Are you taking a vacation?" Clayton allowed questions as long as he was respectful. Sometimes he thought that Clayton actually liked it when he wanted to know things.

"I took leave from the Company. When it's up, I'll either go back or leave altogether. Nothing to worry about now."

Harm didn't understand. Why wouldn't he go back? He couldn't imagine Clayton Webb not working for the CIA, not really. "You'd leave?"

"I may have to. It all depends on a number of factors. Don't worry, Harm." Clayton smiled faintly. "You won't go hungry. I don't have to work, you know."

Harm smiled at that. He'd always suspected as much, and when he'd met Clayton's mother, he'd been sure that was true. "And me?"

"What about you?"

"My," this was even harder to say, "career. What about that?" It was up to Clayton; he knew that, but he was curious.

"That, too, depends on a number of factors. It wouldn't be wise to say one way or another now. What you need to be concerned with is here. The rest will work out in due time."

Harm noticed something. Clayton didn't say that he'd decide about Harm's life, but that it depended on a number of factors. It almost seemed as though it wasn't something he was going to decide. But this was Clayton Webb, who was trained in obfuscation. Of course he'd decide. Maybe he simply meant that if he didn't go back to the CIA, Harm wouldn't go back to the Navy and JAG. Or maybe he meant something else. But Clayton had said that he didn't need to be concerned about it, so he wouldn't be.

"Is there anything else?"

"Yes, Clayton." Could he ask? He needed to ask this. This was Clayton; it was safe to ask him.

"All right. Tell me." Clayton was smiling, and that gave Harm the rest of the courage he needed.

"I want you to fuck me. Please fuck me."

"Tell me why before I decide, Harm."

Harm steeled himself, but there was no mockery in Clayton's eyes. He really wanted to know. "I need it, Clayton. Please." Clayton had jerked him off and sucked him off and let him do the same to him, but he needed to be fucked. He dreamed of it at night when he wasn't having the nightmares, and it was driving him crazy. "Please," he whispered. He couldn't seem to get anything more out.

Clayton was still studying him, and then he smiled. "Yes, Harm. I'll fuck you."

"Thank you, Clayton." He was so hard, with this knowledge that he was going to finally get what he needed. "Thank you so much."

"Come with me." Clayton stood. "And hurry up."

Harm hesitated. Something about this wasn't right. "Clayton."

Clayton stopped and turned around. "What?"

"Do you," Harm hesitated over the words, "want to fuck me now?" He wasn't sure why he was asking, but it was the right question. He knew that.

He saw Clayton open his mouth, then close it, then after a moment, open it again. "I want to fuck you. I don't really want to do it now."

He'd really fucked this up. But why had Clayton said yes to his request? "I don't want you doing anything you don't want to do." That was the truth. Why had he pushed Clayton? He knew better than that. What was happening to him?

"You do things you don't want to do. Why shouldn't I? Come on, Harm. I said I was going to do this, and I will." He smiled. "And I will enjoy it."

Harm obediently followed as Clayton went toward his bedroom, but he couldn't stop thinking about what Clayton had said. It was wrong that Clayton was doing something he didn't want to, but Clayton was going to do it anyway. Was going to do it for him. That felt good.

Clayton's voice brought him back. "Strip, Harm." The command in his voice made Harm stop thinking. Clayton would fuck him, and he needed to be fucked so much.

He got out of his clothes quickly and carefully, folding them as Clayton watched.

"Get on the bed." Clayton's voice was still so commanding, and Harm got right up on his hands and knees.

Yes. This was so right. "Please, Clayton."

He heard Clayton's low laugh. "Yes, Harm. You'll get what you want, and so will I."

Good, Clayton wanted it now. He could feel Clayton's erection against his leg, and it made him want it even more. Then he felt fingers on his legs, stroking him, and he moaned and spread himself wider. When the fingers moved to his crack and began probing into his hole with cool lube, he was so hard that he was sure a touch would make him come.

He didn't get that touch, and he was glad. He wanted this to last, and he was sure that Clayton would stop once he came. That was how Clayton Webb was, considerate, even when he didn't have to be.

The fingers withdrew, and there was a long moment when Harm waited for what he needed. He kept quiet. It was all up to Clayton now, and even if Clayton decided to stop, it would be all right. No, Clayton wouldn't stop. Clayton would do what he had said he would do. Something about that made sense, was something he should be thinking about, was a clue, even if he didn't understand what the mystery was. Then there was the pressure of Clayton's cock, and all of his thoughts vanished except for a desperate hunger. He needed it hard and fast and now, but he'd take it any way Clayton wanted to give it to him.

Clayton took it slow, and Harm found himself whimpering as Clayton's cock worked into him. He heard Clayton's harsh breathing, but Clayton said nothing, just kept a hand on Harm's back through the long penetration.

When Clayton was all the way in, Harm was shaking from the strain and excitement. Then Clayton started to pull out, and Harm whimpered even louder, then let out a moan when Clayton thrust back in. In and out, in and out, and soon Clayton was fucking him fast and hard and hitting his prostate every time.

When Clayton's hand closed around his cock, Harm moaned even louder and bucked into the touch. No, shouldn't do that, but he couldn't help it, and all that Clayton did was to tighten his grip and fuck him even harder and better. Harm kept bucking until the rush hit him, and he choked out a cry and came. Clayton's low groan came right after, and Harm stayed very still as the warm, sweating body leaned into him. He was Clayton's now, all the way, and it felt so good.

After a long moment, he felt Clayton pull out of him. Before he could wonder what to do, Clayton had a handful of tissues and was cleaning him off.

"Rest, Harm." His voice still had that same quiet command, but there was tiredness in it now, too, and Harm was surprised when Clayton got out of bed, wiped himself off, then started getting dressed. "I'll get you when I want you again."

"Yes, Clayton." Harm wanted to ask him to stay, but he knew he couldn't. It was Clayton's decision whether to stay or go. "Thank you, Clayton."

"It was good for you, then."

"Very good, Clayton."

"I'm glad." There was a faint smile on his face now as he finished buttoning his shirt. "Rest." This time his voice had a gentleness that made Harm smile and close his eyes. Clayton wasn't angry with him, and that was good.

*****

Harm finished putting the dishes in the dishwasher and looked over again at Clayton, who was standing by the coffee maker. He was worried about Clayton. For the last few days, since Harm had asked Clayton to fuck him, Clayton had been more distant than before, staring at Harm, then leaving the house and staying away for long periods of time, and when Clayton was here, he sent Harm away more often than not. Had Harm done something wrong? Had it been wrong after all for him to ask to get fucked? That was when it had started, Harm knew, but more than that he didn't know, and that was why he had to ask. He had to take care of Clayton. That was his job, and Clayton was important to him. He needed him to be all right.

"Is something wrong?"

Clayton turned to face him. "Yes. We need to talk."

"Yes, Clayton."

"It's time for you to go back to your life, Harm."

Harm stared at Clayton. What? Back to his life? This was his life. "You said I belonged to you." His voice was rough, but he couldn't control it.

"No one can belong to anyone else, Harm. Not really."

"I belong to you." Harm knew he was being too stubborn, and he didn't care.

"I know you believe that, Harm, but you have to stop."

"You don't want to own me?"

"I find that I'm having trouble being this master for you."

"Then find me someone who can." He didn't want anyone else, but if Clayton didn't want to own him, he needed someone.

"Do you need it that much?" Clayton turned away when Harm nodded. "I could fucking kill Palmer myself right now," Harm heard him say in a low voice. "I should have killed him." Harm held himself still and waited, and Clayton finally turned back. "You have to belong to someone."

"Yes." Clayton had to know that.

"I thought you could learn to be on your own again."

"I can. I will, if you want me to. But I need..." Harm swallowed. "I need to know that I have someone to make me behave. You do that, Clayton. Please." He needed someone who would be there for him, and this was the only way he could be sure. He knew that Clark had been wrong about some things, hoped he had been, but no matter how hard he tried, he knew that he did need to feel as though he belonged.

"I was so sure I could find the Harmon Rabb who used to be there, but he's gone, isn't he?"

"Yes. He's gone." Harm wasn't sure right then if that was a good or a bad thing, but from the look in Clayton's eyes, he guessed that Clayton thought it was bad.

"All right, Harm. I'll keep owning you. But you're going to have to manage on your own more from now on. I'm going back to the Company, and that means I'll be out of touch often. We'll leave here tomorrow."

"Clark was gone a lot. It's all right, Clayton. As long as you come back."

Clayton sighed and was quiet a while longer. "Do you want to go back to JAG, Harm? Tell me the truth."

"No," he said finally, feeling guilty. But he was through with that place. He didn't ever want to see it again, remember how it had felt to sit and work while thinking of Clark. "No more military. I want to resign."

"I'm sure you can get a job at some firm. You'll need to start on that as soon as possible."

It was such a relief to hear Clayton calmly telling him what to do that Harm relaxed and smiled at him. "Thanks, Clay."

"Clay," Clayton said after a moment. "You haven't called me that since...before. Maybe there's hope for you after all. That's something."

Harm saw the relief on the other man's face and realized that the disappointment he'd seen there before was because Clayton had thought that Harm wouldn't be able to break out of the patterns Clark had taught him. And, Harm admitted to himself, he might be right. But maybe not all of them were bad. Maybe he could use what he'd learned about himself to be a different person, but not an owned one. He'd try now. He'd tell the truth without being ordered to, because he wanted Clayton to know.

Harm reached out and put a hand on Clayton's shoulder, echoing the gesture that Clayton had so often made to him. "I do want you."

"Wanting isn't enough, Harm."

"I know, but it's a start. You never hurt me." Harm steeled himself. He'd been thinking he should say this to Clayton, but he hadn't thought he could until now. "I don't want to be hurt. I never did want to. I want to belong." Clayton was watching him now with grave eyes that had no trace of that disappointment Harm hated, with interest and gentleness instead, and that gave Harm the courage to continue. "That's what I got from Clark more than anything, and that's what you give me," it took him a moment to say it this time, "Clay."

"And you want to belong with me."

Harm nodded. It was close enough, and he thought in time it would be 'with' instead of 'to'. "I like being with you. Just no more Dickens." He smiled, letting Clayton know that he was making a joke.

Clayton smiled back. "You don't like the books I had you read?"

"I don't really like reading these days."

"Then don't. Do you think you can learn what you do like again?" There was a note of hope in Clayton's voice.

"I want to." It had to get easier, and he thought that Clayton would help him. And maybe he'd find that he liked more things than he'd let himself like before. "I want to move."

"I think that would be best. If you want, I'll help you find a place."

Harm shook his head. "Let me try it alone." He knew that was what Clayton wanted to hear, but somehow it was also what he wanted to say.

The smile he got from Clayton was more than reward enough for his effort. "I'll look forward to seeing your new place."

"I'll look forward to having you there."

The two men stood there for a few breaths, then Harm took a breath. "Why did you agree to own me, Clay?" This was even harder, but he needed to know.

Clayton didn't say anything for another few breaths, then he took a breath and met Harm's eyes. "I told Palmer I would. I wanted to see if I could help you get back to normal. And I wanted you. I have for a long time."

Harm heard that last and reached out to pull Clayton to him, then kissed him, letting his tongue say what he couldn't in words. Clay's hands were hard on his back, and his body pressed up against Harm's, and Harm knew he'd done the right thing.

Clay moaned when Harm broke the kiss. "Please, Harm."

"What?" This felt different from anything before, and he liked that it did. He licked Clay's neck. He liked thinking of him as Clay, he realized. 'Clay' was someone he could be comfortable with. "Tell me. I'll do it."

He barely recognized Clay's voice when he heard it next. "Fuck me. God, I want that so much..." The sentence ended in another moan.

Fuck Clayton? Yes, he could do this. He could fuck Clay. He wanted to fuck him, wanted to make Clay happy. He nuzzled Clay's neck until he heard him moan again, then let his hands move down to Clay's ass. He found himself cupping it in his hands. His cock was going to be in there, and he was going to find out what it felt like to fuck another guy. Something he'd never thought he'd do, but if that was what Clay wanted, of course.

"Clay," he whispered.

Clay's eyes opened, and Harm saw that they were glazed and hungry. "What?"

"I've never done this."

Clay smiled. "But you've been fucked. I know that." There was a huskiness to Clay's voice that made Harm harden even more. "I'll tell you what I like as we go. First we find a bed and get our clothes off. We'll take it from there." He ground up against Harm's body. "Now, Harm."

"Yes," Harm whispered. He wanted to so much. He let himself grind back against Clay just to hear him moan again, then pulled back. "Bed, Clay."

Clay shivered. "So long..." he whispered, and Harm suddenly understood. Clay had wanted him, but not the way he'd gotten him. He'd missed so much. "This way, Harm."

Harm smiled at Clay. "Sure thing." There was a huskiness of his own in his voice. So this was what it was like to be equal with a man. It felt good with Clay.

He went with Clay to Clay's bedroom, the first time he'd been in there, then watched as Clay started taking off his clothes and draping them over a chair.

"You going to get undressed?"

"Yes." He'd forgotten, watching Clay. So different to be there with him in his own room, to be thinking of fucking him. But he'd do it, if for no other reason than it was what Clay wanted. But there was another reason: he wanted it, too.

He got off his sneakers, then stripped off his t-shirt and jeans, his eyes still on Clay.

Clay licked his lips and walked over to the bed. "How do you want me?"

Harm was going to tell him to do what he wanted, but stopped. Clay had asked him a question, and he knew the answer he wanted to give. "On your hands and knees." He knew it was the easiest position for him to be fucked in, and he wanted this to be good for Clay.

He saw a shiver run through Clay's body, then he licked his lips again. "You're going to fuck me."

"Yes." Harm smiled at the anticipation in Clay's voice.

Clay came over to him and ran his hands over Harm's torso, making him shiver, too. "There's lube in the bathroom, behind the mirror. Want me to get it?"

"No. Get on the bed." He leaned over and kissed Clay again, liking the way Clay's mouth already felt familiar against his. "I want to see you there waiting." He let go of Clay, and Clay got on the bed, hands and knees. "I won't be long." This was Clay, and he didn't want Clay feeling the way he'd felt so many times, as though maybe he'd been left there and wouldn't have anyone coming back. That was a rotten feeling.

He went to the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet. Yeah, there it was. He picked up the bottle and stared at it. He was going to fuck Clayton Webb; he was going to stay with him. They were going to have a relationship, and he wasn't going to be owned, not really. He was going to belong without that. And he was going to find out what life outside the Navy was like. He swallowed. That was too much to think about now. One thing at a time. He took a deep breath, then another, and reached down to his cock. It was still partly hard. He was going to fuck Clay, because Clay wanted him to, because he wanted to, too. He would give Clay what he wanted. He could do this. He would do this. He wanted to do this.

His cock was back to full hardness, but still he lingered in front of the mirror, staring at himself. Who was this person? For a moment he thought he saw Clark there, behind him, laughing and reaching to take hold of his cock himself, but he knew he had to be seeing things, and then it was just him. Clark was gone, he reminded himself. He was with Clay. He wanted to be with Clay.

He turned away from the mirror and headed back to the bedroom with the bottle of lubricant. Clay was still there, and Harm got on the bed before speaking, resting his hand on Clay's shoulder again. He liked doing that.

"I like how you look," he breathed in Clay's ear. "Makes me want you even more."

Clay laughed. "Good. Now start touching me, Harm, all over. Take your time."

This was different from Clark, but that was good. He wanted this to be different. He stared at Clay's back and ass for a moment, then set the bottle down on the nightstand and shifted his weight to get closer to Clay. "Have you done this before?" He needed to know.

"It's been a while. But don't worry. I can take it."

Harm nodded, then remembered that Clay couldn't see him. "All right." He stroked Clay's back, his legs, his ass, then started pressing kisses on Clay's smooth skin. He kept getting flashes of Clark getting him ready to be fucked, but he pushed them out of his mind. He was here with Clay. This was not about Clark. Thought of Clark did not belong here. He was Harmon Rabb, and that meant something for the first time in a while.

Clay groaned and pushed back into Harm's cock. "I've been waiting for this." Fierce and determined and proud, that was Clayton Webb. "Put some lube on your fingers, then on me."

"All right." He was getting harder as he got the bottle of lubricant open and coated his fingers, then started stroking Clay's hole. Clay moaned and spread his legs farther apart.

"All right, Harm, put in a finger."

Harm could hear in Clay's voice that he was getting more turned on, and he worked in one finger, then another with some more lubricant. He didn't want this to hurt Clay; he wanted it to be good for him, as good as Clay had made it for him when Clay fucked him.

Clay was taking three fingers and still moaning, and Harm wondered if it was time for more. Then Clay took a breath, then spoke. "Now, Harm. Fuck me now.

"Tell me if it hurts." Harm took out his fingers and covered his cock with lubricant, then got himself into position.

"Do it, Harm."

Clay wanted this. Wanted him. And he wanted Clay. He took a deep breath and pushed. It took a moment to get past the ring of muscle, but he finally felt it open, and he was in.

"Don't stop, damn you."

Harm pushed in further and felt Clay's body shudder. Finally, his cock was all the way in. He stopped and tried to think. What was next?

"Harm." Clay's voice was so tense. "You know what to do. I know you do. Fuck me. I want you to fuck me."

Somehow, that did it. Harm felt all the worries vanish and a feeling of confidence come over him. Yes, he could do this. He pulled out in a smooth motion, then thrust back in.

"God, yes." Clay let out a harsh laugh. "Yes, Harm. Do it."

Harm kept going, and it wasn't long before he knew he was close to coming.

"Yes," he heard Clay groan. "That's it, Harm, just like that. Yes."

Harm thrust a few more times, then felt Clay's muscles contract around him in a hard grip that told him Clay was coming. That got him off as well.

He pulled out as soon as he could and put his hand on Clay's back. "You all right?"

Clay reached for the box of tissues. "Yes, I'm fine." He wiped himself off front and back, then smiled at Harm. "Thank you."

Harm smiled back. "I want you to stay with me this time, Clay."

"All right." Clay handed him the box, then got off the bed to pull down the covers before getting back in. "Well?"

Harm got under the covers, too. "Sorry." He went to lie down, then Clay's arms were around him, pulling him against Clay's body. After a moment, Clay let him go, but Harm got in a kiss on his forehead. Clay smiled at him.

"Get some sleep, Harm. We'll talk more later."

Yes. That would be good. Harm smiled back and closed his eyes. It was going to work out. He and Clay were together, and in time, even the ghost of Clark Palmer would go away. He could believe that right now, and he would keep believing it, too.

The End

Posted 7/21/01

JAG

Fiction