Title: Tomorrow
Author/pseudonym:
Tinnean
Fandom: JAG/The
Maltese Falcon
Pairing: Clayton
Webb/Clark Palmer, Sam Spade/Wilmer Cook
Rating: R
Email address:
Tinneantoo@aol.com
Disclaimer: Gail owns
Palmer and Webb. Okay, you got me: I was just testing to see if you were paying
attention. Belisarius owns them and Dash Hammett likewise Spade and Cook.
Status: new/complete
Date: 4/01
Series/Sequel: we’re
still never saying never, but this follows Today
Other Web Site:
https://www.angelfire.com/ny4/tinsel/
Archive: If I sent it
to you, please feel free. Otherwise I like to know where my brainchildren are
hanging out
Summary: A pair of
interested shades decides to take a hand in an affair that seems to be stalled
at the gate.
Warnings: m/m
Notes: This takes
place in a universe where Clark Palmer has become CIA after the DSD has been
disbanded. He did not go to Leavenworth, did not pass go, and no, no $200!
Thanks for the loan of your guys, Gail, and for getting this formatted. And for
my sweet sister, Silk, whom I promised to mention in my will: Hi Silk!
Tomorrow
Part 1/1
Clayton Webb was really
trying to get some work done. All he could think of was the man he worked with.
Clark Palmer had deliberately picked a quarrel with him, but then had been almost
frantic in his refusal to work under another CIA agent. If Clay didn’t know
better, he would have sworn that had been a ploy for him to notice the former
DSD agent.
From the corner of his
eye he caught a movement, and he glanced up from the papers on his desk, a
frown furrowing his brow. “What is it?”
But there was no one
there. He held himself very still, then shook his head and went back to the
report, resolutely banishing his partner from his mind.
Minutes passed. And then
a quiet voice whispered from behind him, //You want to fuck him. You know you
do.//
On his feet so rapidly
his chair went spinning, Webb’s eyes stabbed each corner of his office,
searching for the owner of that illusive voice.
But he was alone.
He swore and strode to
the door, flinging it open and glaring up and down the corridor. The empty
corridor. With a scowl, Webb settled himself back at his desk, determined to
get this job finished in this lifetime.
But the string of words
on the paper wavered and slid out of focus. He shook his head, trying to get
his eyeballs unstuck, but to no avail. A glance at his watch revealed it to be
way past the time to clock out for the day, if Langley had a time clock.
With a sigh, he placed
the report in the top drawer of his desk and locked it. It wasn’t top secret,
but you didn’t leave anything lying around unsecured at spook headquarters.
Getting to his feet, Webb
locked his hands behind his back and stretched to get the kinks out of his
joints. His vertebrae gave a satisfying pop. He picked up his jacket and headed
out the door.
The operative was about
to step into the elevator, when he felt the hairs at the back of his neck stir.
He heard that voice again. //You want him. Take him. He’s yours!//
His hand reached for the
weapon he would normally wear at his back, but here at Langley it wasn’t
considered necessary. Here he was unarmed. He snarled and whirled to
confront…nothing. More than a little concerned for his mental health, he
stepped into the elevator and rode down to the parking garage.
Exhaustion was creeping
up on him, and it was a good thing he didn’t have far to drive. He got into his
car and inserted the key into the ignition. The engine roared hollowly in the
empty garage. Webb put it into gear and edged out onto the street.
A light spring mist was
sheening the streets, and the green and yellow and red of traffic lights
reflected off the wet pavement. The effect was almost mesmerizing, and he
blessed the fact that the hour was so late and the streets were so empty. The
last thing he wanted to do was cause an accident. Or be in one caused by
someone else on the road who was as tired as he.
On automatic, he managed
to get home safely. Hmmm. Someone had taken his usual parking spot. He’d take
it up with the management tomorrow. Webb parked a few spots down.
He walked into the lobby,
his eyelids at half-mast, and looked helplessly for the elevator. Somehow, it
had been moved in the twenty-some hours since he had left for work.
No, of course it wasn’t
moved. It was right where it had always been. Wasn’t it? Shaking his head,
amused at his befuddlement, he got into the elevator and pressed the button for
his floor.
Webb got out and swayed
as exhaustion swamped him once more. He stared down at the carpet that covered
the hallway. Surely the pattern had been cabbage roses? He shrugged. All he
really wanted was a drink, a shower and bed. And he didn’t really care about
the order in which he got them.
//You want him too, don’t
you, Clay?// That voice, right in his ear this time. He stiffened, knowing that
when he turned, he would find himself alone.
Sure enough. Startled
back to full wakefulness, he got his key out and swore when it wouldn’t open
his door. He peered at the numbers stenciled neatly below the peephole. For a
moment the numbers appeared to scurry about, and he shook his head.
He must be even more
tired than he thought. They weren’t running around like ants on a disturbed
anthill.
Yes, this was his
apartment. So why wasn’t the key working?
He rattled the doorknob,
as if that would somehow make the key work.
And then the door opened,
and Clark Palmer stood before him. Clayton Webb’s mouth dropped open, and he
found himself with a massive erection. //*Told* you!// came that annoying
whisper.
“Did you want something,
Webb?”
You, Clark! Clayton
licked his lips. “What are you doing in my apartment, Palmer?”
The former DSD agent
watched his superior with barely disguised hunger. “This is my apartment, Clay.
What are you doing here?”
Webb looked stupidly down
at the key in his hand and swayed. Palmer got an arm around him and helped him
into his place.
“I thought I was going
home!”
//You are home!//
“What did you say?”
Palmer gave him a
concerned look. “I didn’t say anything, Clay. Are you all right? You’re looking
a little grey!”
“I think I’m losing my
mind, Clark!”
Palmer knew something was
seriously wrong. Clayton Webb would never admit to something like that.
Especially not to someone like him. He still didn’t trust him.
Well, not that he had
given him any reason to believe he wouldn’t fuck him over at the first
opportunity. They had been long-standing adversaries.
And why did the image of
fucking Clay suddenly refuse to be banished? Clark kept his hips angled away
from the man he worked under. This was entirely inappropriate!
It was all the fault of
that goddamned dream! If he hadn’t dreamed of Sam Spade tormenting him, and
then Clayton Webb bursting into his apartment and ordering him to strip so he
could fuck him… Clark licked his lips and got Clay into his overstuffed easy
chair.
Clay mumbled something.
“What Clay?” Clark leaned closer to hear what he was saying.
The next thing he knew,
his superior had an arm around his neck and was pulling him down to eye level.
“Screw it!” And Webb’s lips were all over Palmer’s face, tracing the line of
his jaw, his teeth nibbling on his ear, his tongue testing the seam of his
lips.
Off balance, Clark fell
against the man he worked under. Webb moved enough to make room for the former
DSD agent to share the seat with him. And then he seemed to swarm onto Palmer,
his weight pressing him into the soft cushions.
Palmer spread his legs
wider and he felt Webb’s cock creating a pleasant friction against his. Pleasant,
hell. Who was he trying to kid? If he couldn’t get more of that friction, he’d
go out of his fucking mind!
He groaned, trying to
encourage Clay to move faster, harder. Wanting to be naked under him. Wanting
him naked on top of him.
The other man froze.
“Shit. Shit, Palmer. I’m sorry!” He tried to scramble off the taller man.
//Fuck!//
“What?” Wild-eyed, Clay’s
head whipped around, once more searching for that voice.
“Oh no!” Palmer refused
to let the other man go. He finally had him where he had spent the past night
dreaming of him. He was not about to let him go. His fingers around Clayton’s
tie, he dragged him down for a voracious kiss.
//That’s the way to pay
the bills!//
But this time Webb was
too involved in the kiss to pay any attention to that smug, ethereal voice. He
was feeding off Palmer’s mouth as if he hadn’t seen a decent meal in ages.
Palmer’s fingers were
busy with the buttons on Clay’s shirt. He got it off him with a minimum of fuss
and threw it carelessly aside. Then he went to work on his partner’s trousers.
But not before stroking the hardened bulge beneath the zipper.
“You’re really hot for
me, Clay!”
“Shut up, Clark, and get
your pants off. I need to be in you right now!”
“And if I say no?”
For a disorienting
minute, Palmer thought he heard a groan.
But he must have been
mistaken. He was staring at Clay’s mouth, and his lips were pressed tightly
together. He couldn’t have made a sound.
“You have no choice,
Clark. I’m going to have you. Say yes, and we’ll make love. Say no, and we’ll
fuck. Either way, I’m going to be so deep inside you that when I come, you
won’t know whether it was your ass or your mouth that I fucked!”
A soft sigh seemed to
flutter in the quiet of the room. //That’s so romantic!//
Both men ignored it. And
the indignant yelp that followed it.
//Hey!//
//Wait in the hall,
Cookie!//
//Ah, Sam! I want to
watch!//
//Out!//
The two men were on the
floor, Clark kneeling while Clay crouched over him, rolling on a condom and
lubricating his cock and the snug channel it would soon invade.
Grinning with
satisfaction, Sam Spade faded out of the room, leaving the two men to finally
consummate their passion.
Out in the hall, his own
partner was sulking. //I told you I would handle it, Cookie.//
//You were taking too
long, Sam! If I waited for you, they never would have gotten together! And all
I did was confuse Webb enough so that he thought he was driving to his
apartment instead of to Palmer’s!//
//You’re a troublemaker,
you know that, Cookie? Now you’d better get your ass home.//
//Or…?// the younger
shade responded aggressively.
//Or I won’t wait until
we get home; I’ll fuck it right here in Clark Palmer’s hall!//
The younger man rocked
back and forth on his heels. //Well, when you make me an offer like that…!// He
vanished into the elevator, which remained open, his laughter floating back.
//Cheeky devil!// Spade
grinned. He paused only long enough to make sure the moans coming from the
apartment were filled with satisfaction, and then followed his lover into the
elevator.
Quietly, the door slid
shut.
~End~