Title: They're Having a Heat Wave

Author: Tinnean

Fandom: JAG

Pairing: Clayton Webb/Clark Palmer

Rating: NC-17

Date: 11/00

Feedback email: Tinneantoo@aol.com

Disclaimers: not mine, never will be, Belisarius owns them, but
the pairing is Gail's. And I'm not making a dime on this!!!

Summary: There's a heat wave in D.C. and the air conditioning at
the Company is not working. Things get a trifle sweaty.

Series/Sequel: this is a PWP that happens after the end of the
Eclipse series by Gail, but the series isn't over yet

Warning: m/m, language

Notes: Clark has been released from Leavenworth and become a
Company man who works under (in more ways than one) Clayton Webb.
He has used blackmail as a means to get into Clayton's life (and
bed). This takes up after there is no need for any more
blackmail.

And this is for Gail, by way of a small thanks for all her help. Who
knows what lurks in the mind of my computer? Gail do!

*****

They're Having a Heat Wave


Clayton Webb hated Washington during this time of year. The city
was like a steam bath! To make matters worse, the Company's air
conditioning had broken down. Again.

He was swamped with paperwork, which needed to be completed in
triplicate and filed. Some hotshot agent surpassed his authority
and the result was major embarrassment to the country, and the
Company he worked for.

God! It was hot in here! He could feel the sweat pooling at the
base of his spine, and scowled. It was much too hot to keep his
suit jacket on. Well, it was after hours, no one was around. He'd
just take it off and try to find some relief.

Webb was irritable. The heat always did that to him. He tossed
the jacket over the back of the visitor's chair and went back to
his computer. Before long he was immersed in the screen before
him.

The man who watched him silently knew there was no chance he
would be caught. Clark Palmer, former DSD agent, and now a part
of the CIA, was an expert at planting bugs that were impossible
to find. He had done it before, when his masters at the DSD had
required it.

And at other times.

He did it now, for his own pleasure. Webb was his, and there was
nothing he liked better than watching the man who meant so much
to him when he was unaware of the surveillance.

Of course, he fully intended to get all that intense energy
focused back on himself, but there was no rush. It was Friday
night, Washington was in the middle of a massive heat wave, and
no one wanted to hang out in this building any longer than they
needed to.

Clark settled himself in his chair and watched the mini screen.
The resolution was amazingly good. He could see a drop of sweat
bead at Webb's temple, then start to trickle down over the curve
of his cheekbone. It stopped at the corner of his mouth, and
Palmer watched as the other man absently caught it with the tip
of his tongue.

Palmer groaned. The sight of his lover, all flushed and sweaty,
was such a rarity that he found it vastly arousing. His cock grew
hard, and he opened his trousers, unzipping the fly and freeing
his hard length. Already a drop of precome was seeping from the
tip, and he rubbed it in broad circles with his thumb.

He licked his lips and leaned his head back, unable to tear his
eyes off the man on the screen.

Webb blotted at the sweat on his forehead with the sleeve of his
right arm, and Clark could see the damp patch under his arm,
could almost see the fine hairs that grew there.

Clayton Webb had a thing for expensive shirts, and Clark had
never been able to understand the attraction. Now he could. But
white was so unimaginative. Sky blue, now that was more like it.
Or maybe pale green. Or lilac.

Clark laughed softly at the thought of his lover in pastels, and
then groaned as the material of Clayton's shirt became almost
transparent as the intense heat of his office caused the other
man to perspire profusely. If he looked really hard, Clark could
see his nipples, could see they were pebble hard, could see...

Why would Clayton's nipples be hard in such hot weather? Clark
paused in the pleasuring of himself, managing to drag his eyes
from the mesmerizing sight of Clay's chest. He looked into the
face on the screen and felt a jolt of excitement.

Clayton appeared to be looking directly into the mini camera
Clark had been at such pains to securely conceal. He ran a hand
through his hair, disheveling the normally never-a-hair-out-of-
place style he favored. His eyes grew sultry, and he pushed his
chair back from his desk.

Clark's mouth went dry as he wondered if he had been caught, and
then his mind went blank. Clayton was seating himself on the edge
of his desk, making himself comfortable, in full view of that
all-seeing eye. He spread his legs and began fondling the bulge
between his legs.

The former DSD agent sat up abruptly. When had Clayton gotten
hard?

Clay let his head fall back as he balanced his weight with one
hand while the other traced the outline of his erection. There
was no sound to this bug, and Clark cursed himself for being so
frugal. Clayton's lips were parted, and he wanted to hear the
moans he was sure were spilling from that oh-so-fuckable mouth.

He began to rub himself harder, although what he really wanted to
do was burst into Clayton's office, unzip Clayton's trousers, and
go down on him for all he was worth, taking that glorious cock
deep into his throat, suckling and nibbling until Clay had no
choice but to come.

Webb stopped caressing himself, although Clark could see it was
an effort; Clay did *not* want to stop. But he reached over
toward something that his body blocked from the eye of the
minicam.

And Clark's intercomm buzzed. Ah, shit! Who else was in the
building who needed him at this time of night? Was he ever going
to be allowed to enjoy the sight of his lover pleasuring himself?

"This had better be fucking good!" he snarled into the unit.

There was a beat, and then a cool voice sounded in his ear. "In
my office, *now* Palmer! If you value your ass, you won't make me
wait!"

"Clay! I mean, Webb!"

"*Now*!"

Clark Palmer was not for nothing the coldest of the cold
operatives that the DSD had ever produced. His hands were steady
as he righted his clothing. In a matter of moments he had himself
presentable, and no one would have guessed that just seconds
before he had been on the brink of climaxing.

His mouth was dry, but if anything, he was even harder than he
had been. When his superior summoned him anywhere in that tone of
voice, Clark Palmer always knew something was up. That something
being about six inches below Clayton's waist.

He tapped lightly on the door with the neat placard reading
Clayton Webb. Below his name were the words 'Assistant Director
in Charge of Changes to be Made'. Clark had made that up and
placed it there, and Clay *still* had not read it clearly.

Palmer had learned in Paris, a number of years ago, that a person
only sees what he wants or expects to see. Clay had no clue what
was on his door!

"Come."

Clark swallowed hard. Oh, he sincerely hoped he'd be allowed to!

"You sent for me, Webb?" As always on Company property he
addressed his lover solely by his last name. And then he froze.
Dangling from Clayton Webb's fingers, the minicam swayed gently.

"Clay! Um, I can explain this?"

"Can you, Clark? Can you explain to my satisfaction why you've
planted this contraption here in my office? Were you spying on
me, Clark?"

For once, Clark was at a loss. How could he explain that he had
invaded his lover's privacy because he needed to, needed to see
him, needed to know he was still a part of his life, that even if
they had parted moments before, Clayton was still a part of his
world?

Oh, God, Clark groaned to himself! Have I got it bad!

"Clay, it's not what you think!"

"It's not?" Clayton sounded curiously disappointed. "Then you
were watching me because you still consider yourself DSD, not
because you care about me? I see." He turned away, somehow
seeming to have deflated.

"What?" Clark was across the room so fast Clay didn't have time
to react. "You see *nothing*, Webb!" The Company man was slammed
up against a wall and Clark was rubbing himself frantically
against the arousal he could feel swelling against him. "I've got
to have you, Clay! Right here, right now! I know you don't want
me during Company time but..."

Clay leaned his head away from his partner, denying him his lips.
"Did anyone ever tell you you talk too much, Clark? Can't you
think of anything more constructive to do with that mouth of
yours?"

Palmer was trembling with desire that he could barely keep
leashed. He stepped back and his hands dropped to Clayton's
waist. A snap and the hiss of a zipper being lowered, and then
Clark dropped to his knees before the other man.

His eyes closed, he savored the velvety feel of Webb's arousal
against his cheek and then he pulled back enough to lick at his
lover's weeping cock before swallowing it. For long minutes he
worshipped the man he loved, but then, just when Clayton was
about to come in his mouth, he stopped.

"I'm sorry, Clay, I have to have you in me! I need that so
badly!"

Smiling, that sultry look back in his eyes, Webb dropped his gaze
to his partner's very prominent erection. "Very well," he agreed,
"strip off all your clothes!"

Clark's hands went to his tie and he began to tug it free. A
glance shot to the door, and he walked toward it, intending to
secure the lock.

"Oh, that won't be necessary, Clark," the other man said
smoothly. "No one else is in this building tonight. And even if
someone was, and they walked in on us, that would be no concern
of yours!"

Palmer's hands fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, and it
seemed an eternity before he had them undone, but he was actually
moving rapidly. When he was naked, he looked to Clayton for
further directions.

Clay had peeled off his trousers and had tossed his shirt aside.
He settled himself comfortably in his chair and nodded toward the
lower left hand drawer of his desk. "There's a private
compartment in that drawer," he told Clark. "Open it!"

Inside the tiny drawer, Clark found a tube of lubrication, and he
felt a stab of jealousy. "You're prepared for every contingency,
aren't you, Mr. Webb?"

"Only since you came into my life, Clark. I put that in there,
hoping one day you'd push me too far and we'd have occasion to
use it! Now put that on me!"

Clark's hands were trembling so much he dropped the cap of the
tube and it rolled somewhere under the desk, but that didn't
concern him just then. He coated his lover's cock with the
lubricant, smoothing it over the hard flesh. Palmer cast an
inquiring look at the other man. How did he want to take him?

"Now I want you to slick your ass for me. That's right, turn
around and bend over so I can watch you prepare yourself. I'm
going to fuck you so hard you'll never be able to come into this
room again without thinking about this!"

Clay was stroking himself as he watched Clark Palmer obey his
orders. He could see how excited the other man was getting.
"Don't come yet, Clark. If you do, I'll have to punish you! And
you don't want that, do you?"

"No sir!" Clark could barely get the words out of his mouth.

"Very good! Now come here and straddle me."

Clark knew what was coming now and hastened to where Clay sat.
His legs positioned on either side of his lover's, he lowered
himself until he was just above Clayton's cock.

*Breathe*, Clay was forced to remind himself. He exhaled slowly
and then spoke again. "Hold yourself open and slide all the way
down onto me!"

Palmer spread his cheeks and obeyed his lover's orders, taking
him in an inch at a time, drawing out the process with
excruciating languor. By the time he had engulfed his lover
completely, his breath was sobbing out of his lungs.

"Now ride me, Clark! Let me feel how much you want this!"

His cock pressed tight against Clayton's abdomen, his ass filled
with Clayton's cock, Clark began to move, striving for a long
leisurely canter in the park, but within moments galloping
headlong to the winning line.

His loss of control excited Clayton so much that he filled
Clark's passage with his hot semen as the other man poured
himself all over his stomach, coating them both.

For long seconds only the sound of their ragged breaths filled
the room.

"God, that was good, Clay!"

Clayton smiled. It *was* good. It almost made up for the
discomfort of this heat!

Clark smiled also, although his smile was hidden in his lover's
neck. He licked the beads of perspiration that rolled down
Clayton's throat, sucking gently at his adam's apple, and then
settled his head on his shoulder.

*I love you, Clay*.

Clark froze. Had he just admitted that aloud? No, he couldn't
have, Clayton would have said something. He sighed and relaxed
for the few short moments they had left before they would need to
dress and go home for the night.

*Don't let him know you heard him*. Clay continued stroking the
line of Clark's back, a silly smile on his face. His arms
tightened.

A faint hum came from the vents. The air conditioning was working
again.

~Fin~