Title: Dark yearnings
Author: Gail
Fandom: JAG
Pairing: Clayton Webb/Clark Palmer
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Clayton Webb has a visitor who's got some plans within plans for him.
Archive: Yes to WWOMB.
Email: gem225@aol.com
Series: Part 1 of the Eclipse series, another alternative to Parts 4 & 5 of the Equinox series
Web Page: Mareen's Den, at: http://www.fortunecity.de/lindenpark/vogelweide/216/main.htm
Disclaimer: All right, they don't belong to me.
Spoilers: Imposter, Webb of Lies, Wilderness of Mirrors, Contemptuous Words.
Notes: Take Part 3 of the Equinox series, mess with the time so that that encounter happened between Webb of Lies and Wilderness of Mirrors, say, April 1999, add Harm's promotion to Commander, mix in all the Clark Palmer story, bring it up to March 2000, ignore what doesn't fit about the fifth season, and be prepared to put aside Parts 4 and 5 and suspend disbelief. After all, we're talking about Clark Palmer here, and it's been established that *he* can do anything. And in my work, he usually does.
In parts of this story the characters refer to events that happened in my non-slash story "Getting his hands dirty." It's probably a good idea to read that one, because this story really comes out of that. You can find it at:
http://www.fortunecity.de/lindenpark/vogelweide/216/dirty.htm .
If you haven't read Mareen's first three Equinox stories that these are branching off, you might want to do that. They're at
http://www.fortunecity.de/lindenpark/vogelweide/216/jag.htm and at WWOMB. And they're great.
If this story makes you frown and say, haven't I read this before, don't worry. You're not losing your mind. The first half of it is from "An offer too good to refuse," part 1 of the Solstice series.
This is Katja's birthday present series, and her idea. She wanted Clayton Webb and Clark Palmer in bed together. I have corrupted her into my Clark Palmer insanity, and Tinnean now, too.
Huge hugs and thanks to Katja and Mareen for reading this over and talking to me about it and helping me find the way to make this right, especially to Mareen, who is once again letting me screw around with her perfectly wonderful stories and change everything. She's a gem.
By Gail
I should know by now that the rain is going to make me remember him. Even the sound of it is too much for me these days, though it's been a year since he was here.
I make myself sip my wine. I haven't even bothered to try and pretend that I'm going to make dinner. Cooking even reminds me of him when it's raining, and it rains a lot around here. On a good day, I remember and pick up some take-out, or treat myself to a nice dinner, but it wasn't a good day at all. I did have some crackers and chevre when I got home, but that was hours ago and I finished it all. And I've refilled my glass once or twice. I'm going to get drunk if I'm not careful. And careful is not what I'm feel like being tonight.
It would have been smarter of me to find something to do over at State, maybe volunteer to go to a party. The embassies are always having some holiday to celebrate, and it would look good for me to go. It's accepted that you're going to drink there, and I'd rate a limo so that it wouldn't matter that I was over the legal limit. But all I *really* wanted to do was go over and watch the lights through Rabb's windows, watching for his shadow, trying to figure out what he's doing. But I chose neither, because the rain also makes me dream about him coming back. And I'd need to be home for that.
A stupid dream. I've seen him since, of course. And we both act as though those times never happened. For a while I saw a look in his eyes when we ended up alone for a moment or two, but I could never read it, and I don't trust what I can't read. So I turned away and found something to talk about, something safe. And it's been a while since I saw that look. His eyes don't find mine that often any more, and when they do, they're pretty expressionless. But that's safer. I'm sure mine are, too. I know it. I don't allow myself any feelings in public about Harmon Rabb, Jr. Or in private, but that's easier said than done. Much easier.
One of the things I've done since that night is to learn about his women. It's always good to have complete information. Especially about Rabb. I didn't like it when I was the last one on that freighter to know he had a girlfriend. He's gone through quite a few since he's been here in Washington, and some of them certainly look like what a man like Rabb would want. But none of them lasted. I wonder if it's because none of them made him scream the way I did, not that he knew how I was going to make him scream when he was dating most of them. But then this is Rabb we're talking about. He probably just got bored, or they learned the hard way what I already knew, that Harmon Rabb was Navy first and foremost, no real room for anyone, except maybe Colonel MacKenzie. And she's just a friend. I could almost feel sorry for Rabb's women, the ones who lost him. I know how it is to want Harm and not be able to have him. And they don't have the excuse I have. They're supposed to be able to get the guy.
My glass is empty again. I think about refilling it, but it's just too much bother to go back into the kitchen, and the living room is really where I want to be. I want to pretend that if I just turn around, he'll be there, looking at me. Wanting me.
But I know he won't be there. So I make myself turn around and look at the couch where he sat, the same one I bent him over. There's no one there, of course. I should have replaced it. His come soaked in, and now there's a faint stain, even though the cleaning person did her best. You have to look for it, granted, but I know it's there. I really should have replaced it. But I won't. It's my only reminder sometimes that I did have him there. That, and the carpet, and nobody looks at a carpet that closely. Except me, and there's really nothing there to look at.
I fight the urge to check them both again when it comes. It's almost worse to remember that time. I was so stupid, so blind about Harmon Rabb. So insane. And I can't afford insanity. Not in my work.
This isn't getting me anywhere. I decide to get some water and take the wine glass into the kitchen. The doorbell rings while I'm filling the glass for a second time, and I have to make myself shut off the tap before going to answer it. It's not going to be him. Not now, not ever.
But I still find myself hurrying to the door.
I can't believe who's standing there, rain dripping off his overcoat. Clark Palmer, who should be in Leavenworth. My god. I wish I had my gun. But he's not doing anything but standing there. Then he smiles at me.
"Hey there, Clayton." He's as cool as if the last time we'd met had never happened. That damned Kamiko Maru. When he almost killed Harm, and me too. Over a superconductor that ended up not being worth the trouble. "May I come in?"
I don't answer him, just glare as I grab my cell phone and dial. I know that it would be better to talk to him, find out what's going on that he's out after only nine months when it was supposed to be more like life, but I just can't. And why in hell would I trust any story Palmer would give me? The man's a proven liar. He probably lies to himself about breathing.
He nods, as if he expected this. The bastard probably did. He always was too smart for anyone's good. "I'm surprised State didn't tell you," he says softly while I'm waiting for someone to pick up. "If I were you, I'd think about getting some better sources. I can recommend someone, but I don't know if you're willing to trust me."
I shoot him a look. Trust Palmer? He shrugs. But at least he's quiet. I don't take my eyes off him, not for a minute. I know what Palmer's capable of. I saw what was left of Rabb after that mirror game. And there was nothing I could do, nothing. He was locked in that doctor's arms as though he was never going to let her go. But he did. Went back to flying and left her behind. Still with no real word to me.
Damn. I'm back to thinking about him. And I'm not going to do that now.
I finally get a person on the phone. "I need a report on Clark Palmer." My voice is flat, but that only makes Palmer smile more. Why the hell is he smiling? And why is he letting me call? I don't know how I missed this. Someone should have told me, and I'm going to find out why no one did. I know that I've been preoccupied lately, but I've been checking out this situation that I think Rabb...
Shit. I hadn't let myself know that until now. I don't do favors for Rabb any more. Why won't this guy get me the information I need? Are they all incompetents there?
Palmer shifts position, then stills as my eyes bore into him. "Sorry," he murmurs. "Guess I'm lucky you're not carrying your gun right now. I'd have some more of those bullet wounds you and Rabb like to give me. I like to think of them as tokens of your affection."
I ignore him. Mind games are Palmer's specialty, I know that very well. I'm not going to fall for them.
There's someone there now, and what he has to say I just don't believe. I interrupt him and demand someone else, someone with more authority. He goes away.
"It's the truth, Clayton." It's Palmer, of course. "I do have friends, you know. Did you really think someone as valuable as I am would be allowed to rot in a cell for the rest of my life?"
I don't have to answer that because I've got someone I actually know on the line, and he's confirming what the first man said. I end the call and stare at Palmer.
"A pardon." I have to say it out loud.
"I didn't get to meet the president, though." Palmer glances at me, then decides to stay put. Good decision. "Too bad. I was looking forward to telling him that I thought they'd caught the wrong guy on that editorial."
I know what he's talking about. Of course. The whole contemptuous words fiasco. I'd done what I could to help in the search for the real culprit, nothing much, and I'd been told about Rabb's visit. Palmer must have loved when Rabb went down to try and get proof that the piece had been planted on his computer. I would have told him not to go, to let me handle it. But I never heard a word from him.
Since that last rainy night, I've never had Harmon Rabb ask me for a favor. Questions, sure, but never a favor.
That hurts.
I stow the phone. "All right." I know my voice is tight, but I can't change that. "What do you want?"
"I'd really rather talk inside." He looks just like any other guy in D.C., dark suit, not too bad a tie, decent shoes. "Come on, Clayton. If I'd wanted to kill you, I could have done that by now. Want to search me?" He's smiling, and I don't like that way he said that.
"Yes." My voice is flat again, and I'm expecting him to give me a hard time, but he surprises me by taking off his overcoat as soon as he's inside, then turning around to lean against the wall.
"What are you waiting for? Go ahead," he says when I just stand there.
I check the coat first, then move over and start running my hands over his body. There's nothing to him. Prison food must not have suited his taste. I finish quickly. I don't want to touch him. He's clean, the only thing big enough to worry about an unlabelled videotape. I look it over and hand it back to him, and he nods and stows it in his suit jacket. I don't know why he's carrying that around and I don't want to think about it. I don't really want to know what kind of movies Palmer watches to relax. Probably something like "The Day of the Jackal." And I'm sure he was rooting for the assassin. Probably cries at the end when the guy dies. I wouldn't be surprised.
"All right, Palmer. Come in." I turn my back on him for the first time and go inside.
Of course we end up in the living room. Where else do you entertain guests, even ones like Clark Palmer? Certainly not the bedroom. I put on a calm face and decide to take the initiative.
"What do you want?"
He's frowning. "Clayton, I should have brought dinner. You look like hell. You O.K.?"
What's this game? He can't be trying to play this on me again. He knows it won't work. "I'm fine, Palmer. Get down to business."
"You're lucky I'm not after your life. You've been drinking your dinner tonight."
He can smell the wine on my breath. Damn. I haven't had that much. "Palmer, talk sense or leave."
He shrugs. "Fine. I'm just trying to help."
He goes over to the couch and sits down without asking. And he's in the same position that Rabb was. The very same position, even to the way he's holding his hands. This is insane, a coincidence that only a person who believed in a god could take. I don't, but I don't have a choice, either. I have to deal with this man, this dangerous, smiling man, and find out just what he wants with me, and what I need to do about it.
It's then that I remember. Of course. Palmer has made a study of Rabb, has Rabb's pattern in his head well enough that he managed to fool a whole courtroom of people as well as Admiral Chegwidden into thinking he was Rabb. So it's not really that insane that he'd act like Rabb, especially if he's got Rabb on his mind. And I'm fairly sure that this visit has something to do with Harmon Rabb. But then I think that most things do, these days.
I take a seat opposite him, completing the picture. It's the only sensible thing to do. I have to be able to see his face.
"Sense. Is that what you want?" He's giving me a quizzical look. What the hell is he seeing in my face? I can't ask him that. It would give too much away. And there's nothing to see. I know how to play the game as well as he can. Possibly better.
"You heard me." My voice is much too loud, and I try to lower it. "What game are you playing?"
"No game." He laughs suddenly when I let my face show that I don't believe that. "All right, there's a game. But I'm not here to play one on you, Clayton. My target is someone else." His eyes lock with mine. "Someone I think you'd be happy to see played."
And who would that be? I have a bad feeling about this. "So now we're two agents about to work together. No, Palmer. Pardon or no pardon, I don't trust you."
"That's funny, Webb. Because I trust you." I know my amazement's showing. "Hey, you were only doing your job on that ship. I know that. I don't have any hard feelings. Hell, I respect your loyalty to the CIA. I used to have an agency, too."
I snort. Trying to play me, I can tell. "And I'm supposed to feel sorry for you that you don't any more?"
"No. I'm doing fine. Do you want to hear my offer or not?"
I'm ready to tell him to leave. I'm too tired to get into whatever game Palmer's running. But he's got me curious. He's chosen me to tell this to, no one else, and it's always good to get more intel. "Go ahead."
"I've had my eye on Rabb for a long time, even when I was in Leavenworth."
I was right. It is about Rabb. And this is news, bad news. I had people sweep Rabb's place after the mirror game, and if Palmer's telling the truth, they missed things. "You've got to be kidding."
"No. DSD always had better surveillance devices than you Company guys. We kept that part of the research very well hidden." He sighs. "I wish I knew where to find those guys now. Probably over in Europe, making big money. I'll have to make a note to see what I can find out. I got some good ideas in prison, and I'd like to see if they could make them workable."
I've got to find out what he's got on Rabb, what he's planning. Because it's clear to me that he's got something in mind. But...
"Why are you telling me this?"
Palmer looks hurt, but I know it's fake. "Clayton, Clayton, Clayton. I learned my lesson in Leavenworth. No more attacks on Rabb. He's too smart for me." The smile is back, the one I'm sure Harm has seen even more often than I have. I hate that smile on him, because it means trouble. "Just ask him. He'll tell you."
"So you're telling me this so that I can remove the devices." I'm really not getting this. I can't believe a helpful Clark Palmer. I have to be missing something. I wish I'd had more food to go with the wine. I'm not drunk, but I'm not as sober as I'd like. I take deep breaths and hope that will help.
Palmer's on to impatience now. "I thought you were smart. No, Clayton, you couldn't find the devices. Your crack team certainly couldn't."
I knew it. This is a disaster. The DSD's been gone for two years, and they're still making trouble for us.
"And you'd only freak Rabb if you tried to tell him." His eyes are gleaming. "And of course you'd tell him. You're one of his friends. Right?"
"I work with Rabb occasionally." I manage a bored tone. "He can be useful."
"I'm sure he can." The pleasantness of Palmer's tone put me on alert. What was the man up to? "But I'm sure his view of you is a little different. Let me prove it to you." He reached into his suit jacket and brings out the video.
Of course. A surveillance tape. Of Rabb cussing me out? That I'd believe. But I don't want to see it.
"I'd really like you to see this," he says softly when I don't move to take it from him. "I think you'll find it very interesting."
I have to know what Palmer thinks he has. I get up and switch on the TV and VCR, then slap in the tape. Palmer watches calmly as I hit the play button. It's a pretty good picture of Rabb's bedroom, but there's no one there.
"It'll get interesting in a minute," he assures me when I flick my eyes over his face, and then it does. Rabb comes into the room, in full uniform. It should be illegal for him to go around in that. I stare at the screen as he strips out of his shirt. God, he looks good. That time on the carrier gave him some muscles, and I start thinking about how it would feel for my hands to go exploring that body. I swallow and push that thought away, checking the date/time stamp in the bottom corner. This was made a month ago. There are ways of altering those stamps, but I know the difference between a lieutenant commander's bars and a commander's. This is after his promotion. This is recent.
Now Rabb's undoing his pants in a quick motion, almost brutally pulling out his cock. It's hard, angry-looking, already seeping precome. I know how that tastes. My tongue darts out to touch my lips. I want that in my mouth.
"Harm does keep himself in good shape," Palmer offers. He's staring at me, and I know he saw what I just did. And what it means. "Oh, come on, Webb, it's not the biggest secret in the world that you like guys." His tone makes it sound like he's talking about preferring coffee ice cream to vanilla. "At least I never thought it was. Not that I'd tell anyone. I know how idiotic people can be. And I wouldn't want you hurt."
This from the man who was going to kill me over a briefcase. "Shut up, Palmer."
Not the smartest thing to say, but he just shrugs again and we watch the tape. Rabb got out of his pants and on the bed while we weren't watching, and now he has his right hand tight around his shaft, and, I can't believe this, his left hand down and probing at his anus. He's doing that?
"Well, well. Looks like Harm's gotten some interesting habits." I don't have to look at him to know he's smiling, and I don't. I don't know what my face is saying. "I'm curious to see how this finishes, Webb. How about you?"
Oh, I want to know. I can't believe that Rabb wants even a finger in his ass after the fucking I gave him. Could it be that he found that he liked something there? Obviously. But then maybe Jordan had a thing for his ass, and since she was a woman, he let her. That's probably it. And Palmer's here for some kind of game, hoping that I'll tell Rabb about this tape and freak him. Petty, but that's the only reason I can see. I refuse to consider any other. If Palmer knew about the dance Rabb and I did a year ago, he would have used it by now.
But I'm not going to give Palmer anything. "I really don't need to see Rabb get himself off," I say coolly and get up to stop the tape. But before I can do that, Harm stiffens, shoves that finger further up his ass along with another one, and moans one word.
My name. He's calling my name as he comes.
This is surreal. And I'm so hard I don't know if I can stand it.
I turn back to Palmer, and the look on his face helps me forget all about my hard-on. He's got an avid pleasure showing there. Bad loss of control. Except maybe it's because he know it won't matter, because I'm hooked.
"Curious, Clayton." He's using the same name for me now that Rabb just did, and I know it's on purpose. "He calls for you, not some woman or even his mother. Now why is that?" He smiles. "Could it be that our Harmon Rabb is gay? Or maybe bi?" His tongue comes to trace his lips, and he's definitely doing it for effect. Too bad it's lost on me. "He wants you, Clayton." His voice is low and dark. "What did you do to our boy?"
He can't know. There's no way. I just look at him, keeping my face cool. This is high-stakes poker, and I've been in these kind of games before. Just not with Rabb as the stakes.
"Why, Palmer?" That tape isn't enough to get Clark Palmer over to my place making nice. "What do you think you know?"
"Better than I'd expected. At least you're not denying who you are." Palmer's smile is cool. "I admire that, Webb."
"Answer the question." I'm not admitting it, either. Not to Clark Palmer.
"What I know? What you just saw. But a good agent always follows his hunches. You taught me that."
Nice of him to give me credit. But I know better.
He pauses, and I think about ways he could know about what happened. I need to be prepared for the worst, and that would definitely qualify. There's surveillance, although if he had proof, I'm sure he would have played that instead, and I'd stack the Company's people against his devices any time. The cleaning service, especially after all the work it had taken to put my couch back into decent shape. And I'm sure that someone saw Rabb come in either time. He did stand out in that uniform, and that alone would give Palmer enough of an idea and something to work with. That is, if I am dumb enough to play along. But I'm not.
"I know Harmon Rabb, Clay. He's not the kind of guy to get a crush like some kind of schoolgirl. No, if Harm's calling your name, odds are that he knows just what he's calling for. How was he, Clay? Did he suck you off, or did you get in his ass? I hope you fucked him. He'd look good, oh, bent over this couch."
The dark voice again. Like I'd never been through training to know what kind of game he was trying to play on me. And he can't know that that's exactly what I did with Harm. Unless that's his subtle way of telling me he does. Well, he's going to have to get more direct before I admit anything.
"Are you expecting me to confirm that for you?" My voice is disinterested, a major miracle. My body is very interested. I hope my erection doesn't show. I cross my legs just to be sure. "Get out of my house, Palmer. You disappoint me."
That hits him. At last. "Really." His smile is tight, and I keep my eyes on him. On the defensive. Good. "I haven't been your pupil for a while now, Webb, and I'm not interested in your approval."
I'm the one with the shrug now. "Whatever you say, Clark." I use his first name on purpose, to remind him that there was a time when I gave the orders. Even though that wasn't the way it turned out. I lost a friend on that mission, a good one, and if I'd had any brains, I would have killed Palmer and dumped his body. Would have been better for everyone. Especially Harm.
Palmer smiles suddenly. "Oh, you're good, Clayton. You really had me going there." And like that, we're back to equals, and he's leaning against the back of my couch. I think about repeating my order for him to get out, but it's not time for the game to end. I still haven't found out what I need to know.
"I'm beginning to wonder just what you think you're doing here," I say conversationally. "You know I'm not going to play whatever little game you've decide to pull on Rabb." It's important to keep calling him by his last name. I can't let Palmer know that he means anything to me. "So why even bother trying? Was this the great plan you came up with in prison? I'm not impressed, Clark."
"But you haven't heard the plan yet." He leans forward, face almost as young and eager as when I met him in the office of the assistant head of the DSD, John Springer. I haven't thought of that name in years. I should really find out what happened to him. Did he get taken down with the rest of them? I wouldn't be willing to bet on that. Rats survive.
"We both know that I want to get Harm. I haven't made any secret of that." His eyebrows lift, giving him that satyr look I remember, too. The ears only make it more pronounced. "But I can't go after him. I'm not interested in going back to prison." Something dark and angry flashes in his eyes, and I hold myself still and ready in case he attacks. "It's hell in there. A hell with idiots and morons for company. It wasted my time." And that sounds like the worst thing he's got against it. Then the darkness and anger are gone, just like that. Clark was always mercurial. "So I need revenge on him. He deserves it. He put me there."
I'm not going to agree with any kind of statement like that. "You got what you deserved, Clark. If you didn't want to go to jail, you shouldn't have decided to break the rules of the game." Not society's rules, we both know those are a joke. Agents have different rules, and Palmer broke those left and right even before the DSD went down.
"Whatever. That's done."
And he dismisses it just like that. I'm not surprised, really. Palmer reforming would be too great a miracle for any supreme being.
"Listen, Clay. What better way to get Harm than by getting him to break that stupid gays-in-the- military rule?"v
I keep my face still. Harm already has, but I seem to be the only one here who knows that. Maybe Palmer doesn't know as much as I thought. Good.
"Don't worry. I'm not going to make anything public. That's not my style. They'll be changing it someday soon. They'll have to. But right now, it's the law, and I want Harm to have to deal with the fact that he's done something he's not supposed to. And I want him desperate for it. Hungry." He licks his lips, and this time I know that it's not for effect. It's because he can't help himself. "Needing something he damned well knows he shouldn't. I want him to keep coming back to you for more and more and more."
He leans forward, and his breath is like a touch on my skin. I don't want him touching me, don't like how it's making me feel. I don't want Clark Palmer. "And after seeing that tape, I'm sure you're the one who can make that happen. Wouldn't you like that, Clayton? Harmon Rabb's strings in your hands?"
Want it? Of course I want what he's offering. I'm hard again right now, thinking about it. I want Harm to want me, and I don't really care right now how I make it happen. But I know that I should care. "I don't know why you think I'd give a damn about that." I try to keep my voice cool, but Palmer's not impressed. I can tell that from the smile.
"Here's why," he purrs, and before I know it, he's up, and his hand is down in my crotch, fingers learning just how hard I am. He's too fast to stop. "Nice, Clay. Very nice. Is this why Rabb's calling your name?"
His fingers are working through the fabric, learning too much, getting to me, and I grab his wrist and twist until he lets go. Even then I keep hold of him, my breathing harsh and angry. He's smiling, even though I'm sure that the angle I've got him at has to hurt.
"We both know that isn't for me. And I doubt you just get it up because the wind blows in the right direction. So that leaves one cause. And I'm the guy who can make him yours. Well?"
I let go of his arm, pushing him away from me. He has one beautiful moment of awkwardness as he lands on the couch, and I wish that I could keep him that way always, but then he's leaning against the cushions again and in control.
"I haven't heard anything to make me think that you have anything more to give me than words."
Damn. That gives him something more than I meant to. A lot more. And he isn't missing a thing. Should have gotten him a drink, but I realize that I don't even know what he drinks other than wine. I promise myself a long session with his file in the morning. And a team to follow him around and get more.
"So you are interested." His voice is pleasant, and the hunger is right back underneath. "All right, Clayton, you've got a very good point. I haven't told you the angle." He smiles when I just wait. "Now, what is the basic fact about Harmon Rabb?"
There's something about Palmer now that makes me think of a professor I had in college. He was brilliant, and the kindest word anyone ever used about his behavior was eccentric. Pity Palmer hadn't taken to academia...but the thought of him getting to push his twisted ideas onto young minds is enough to make me want to throw up. I manage to hold it down.
"You're the expert on Rabb. You tell me." I wasn't giving him anything.
"Oh, that's an easy one. Our Harm lives for obsessions. And I'm his current one." He smiles. Oh, I can see he's really happy about that. "Clay, do you think that Harm's going to like that I'm out of jail? And that nobody told him?"
That doesn't take many brains to answer. "No. But I doubt you were expecting him to throw you a party."
There's an amused look in his eyes. "Not really. But then I could always arrange one, if you'll help."
I'm not liking this. "Get to the point."
"That is the point. I know how to get to Rabb, what will always get his attention, throw him off- guard and have him ready," he pauses, "to do anything anyone asks of him."
He's waiting for me to ask. He can forget about that.
He finally gives up. "Promise him the inside track on me. You know that he's not going to accept any kind of world where I'm on the side of the right and the good. He's always going to be sure that I'm one step away from causing total world destruction. I think he's seen too many James Bond movies, myself. But guys like Harm love to think they're saving the world. Gives them a reason to get up in the morning."
I'm staring at him. He hasn't changed at all. He's setting up a mind game to fuck Harmon Rabb over, and he wants me to help. I know from how Palmer talks, from the hungry look in his eyes, that if Palmer thought he could get away with it, he'd go after Harm, keep after him, torture him with all the knowledge and skill he has until Harm's every thought was of Palmer and how he had to stop his arch-enemy. Until Harm was so obsessed that he threw away his whole life. And he wants me to help him, wants me to feed Harm's obsession. I can't do that to Harm. Even though he used me over and over again. Even though he never really wanted what I could give him.
But if that tape is right, he does. I meet Palmer's eyes, glittering with something I'm sure is madness. I wonder if that same look is in my own eyes. "And?"
"All you have to do is go to Rabb and tell him that you have information on me, that I'm out, Clayton. He'll want to know more, and then," he smiles with a predatory gleam, "you tell him that there's a price for the additional information. And that's his body. He'll go for it."
"That really sounds like it's going to work." I make my voice heavy with sarcasm instead of desire. What he's talking about sounds so good. Even though it shouldn't be tempting me. I know it's wrong. Even without my conscience to tell me that. No, I can't think about that now. "Do you really think Rabb is just going to jump into bed with me? Because I promise him information on you?"
"You saw the tape. And I'm sure you can come up with an approach that'll work. After all, you know him. You've been studying him for longer than I have.
Palmer makes it all sound so simple, but somehow in this conversation I've lost all deniability about my desire for Harm. I can't let this go on. "Palmer, this has really been amusing, but I'm tired and I'm not interested. Go away."
He just smiles. "Not until I have the answer I want, Clay. And I know that you're interested." His eyes flick down to my crotch, then up again, and I know I've lost that argument.
I know he's not going to leave, that trying to make him will take more than I've got, and I keep my eyes on him as he does the same.
"You can keep him on the strings as long as you want. Just call and say you've got more information. I'll give it to you. We wouldn't want Harm to think he's not getting what he's paying for, would we?" He laughs, but I don't find it that funny. "We both know that Harm isn't going to be able to find out what I'm doing. The only good contact he's ever had is you."
And he's right. Harm always came to me for information. When he did come to me. Which he doesn't any more.
"He calls Leavenworth every few weeks, you know."
I didn't. Oh, that's healthy, Harm. My god. And they're just sitting there in JAG, letting him do this? Idiots.
"Next time he calls, in, oh, about a week, if he stays on schedule, they'll tell him that there's no such prisoner on record. What do you think is going to happen then?"
He'll lose it. I've seen his face when he's got Palmer on his mind. It's like watching a man undergoing possession by demons. Palmer's got a point. This could work. My god, I'm actually considering doing this. I'm losing my mind.
"You can have him coming to you, Clayton. And I'm sure that it won't take that long for you to have him here for more than just information. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
The dark note is in his voice again, and this time I'm not doing so well resisting it. I should get some more water, take a break from hearing Palmer's line of bull. But I don't want to get up. I want to hear what Palmer has to say.
I should just tell him to go to hell. I really should.
But I can't. The chance to get Harmon Rabb back, to make him do what I want, is too much. But I can tell there's something I need to be paying attention to...and then I've got it.
"You've got cameras at his place."
He smiles. "Yes. Is that a problem?"
"Why would you think I'd be interested in starring in porn films for free?"
"You wouldn't. I won't be taping. Just watching."
"How can I be sure of that?" I'm negotiating. I can't believe I'm doing this.
"Clay, you're missing something. You've got more on me than I do on you. Think. I've just admitted to you that I've been illegally tapping Harm's phone, videoing his home. You go to Justice with that and I'm back in that damned cell." The darkness that was there before when he talked about Leavenworth is back. "You can call right now, if you want to. Not that I'd stay around to get caught. But they'd find me, and it might be before I could pull everything from Harm's place. The odds favor you. Not me. And if I do tape you, I'm helping your case, not mine."
He's right. Palmer's put his freedom in my hands. So that he can get me to help him? The world is changing.
Palmer sees that I've accepted his argument. "Make the first time at his place. I want to see him have to get over his pride and know he's got to do some begging. Even if you don't want to keep it going, I'll have enough revenge for a while."
I'm an idiot to think Clark Palmer is going to give this up just because I won't help him. He'll find a way to get Harm. If not me, then someone else. I might as well. Better me than some stud out of a bar somewhere. I'd be an idiot to turn down this chance.
Just like I'm an idiot to think that Harmon Rabb will ever give a damn about me, who I really am. The only thing he'll ever give a damn about is what I can do to his body.
But I don't like to think that way. I can't think that way and still be myself.
Maybe there's a way to take this away from Palmer, without him knowing. Convince him that I'm as crazy as he is...as obsessed. Because for all his talk about Harm being the obsessed one, Palmer's just as hooked by Harm. I can play that. And I will.
"One tape. No more." I want to refuse even that, but I need to make him think he's got me.
And the slow smile tells me that he's bought it. "So you'll do it.
"When you make it sound so good, why not?" My driest voice, and it works from the way his smile widens. "And you give me the raw footage."
"Of course, Clay." I can tell that Palmer was expecting me to say that. And likes hearing it. Well, I am playing his game. "I'll edit it so that all anyone can see is Harm's face. Wouldn't want you to get worried."
"Thanks." I know that I'm taking a hell of a chance here. I know that. But I do think that Palmer's really interested in keeping this just between us. And if I'm wrong, I'll just have to find a way to fix it.
"I always knew you were too good for the Company, Clay," he purrs and holds out his hand. I know that's his idea of a compliment. "Pity we never got to work together again until now."
I just smile. We're not really working together now, Clark. But you don't need to know that.
"It's good to find out that I've got an ally. All right." He's back to business. "I tape once, and then I'll take out the cameras."
I don't believe that, but it's not going to help to challenge him. "Great. So how do I verify that?" That much I can ask for.
He cocks his head at me. "You really need to do that?"
I smile back. "Yes. But you know that, Clark."
He's laughing now. "Of course I do. Hell, you can come with me and watch."
And what's going to stop you from going back and putting them in, Clark? But that doesn't matter now. "I'll look forward to that."
I try to put a note of dismissal into my voice, but he doesn't seem to get it. Or want to. He just looks at me, and I'm not sure I know what he's seeing.
"You're staying?"
"I thought we could celebrate. Order take-out, have some more wine. You haven't even offered me any yet." He's smiling now.
We're going to get this one straightened out right now. "Just because I'm doing this does not make me your new best friend, Clark. I'm tired."
"I know all that." He stands, and I think he's going to leave. Instead he sits right next to me. "I'm curious about what Rabb sees in you, Clayton."
The dark voice, but now there's a huskiness in it. Either he's an even better actor than I know, or he's telling me that he wants me. His eyes are fixed on mine, and the message in them is just as clear as the voice. He does want me. This is way beyond surreal. I shift to get up but he moves to block me. I can tell that he's strong enough to stop me if it comes to a fight. And I'm not going to fight my way off my own couch.
"Clark, just stop it."
I hope that the tiredness in my voice gives him enough of an excuse to pull away. But this is Clark Palmer, and he's always been determined.
He leans in, his lips a breath away from mine. I know that I'm breathing harder. It's been so damned long since Harm, and I'm only human. But I know this isn't a good idea. I just can't seem to stop him. Or myself.
"I learned a few things in prison, Clay," he murmurs, and his lips brush mine as his fingers stroke my thigh. "Want me to show you? I'd like to."
Damn him. After all that talk about Harm, and that damned video, I really want some. From anyone, even Clark Palmer. His tongue is teasing my lips, promising so much if I'll just give in. It's been even longer since anyone tried to seduce me. I don't count Harm. That was different, him trying to make up for having lost control to me, for having sold himself.
But this is Clark Palmer. I can't trust him. This all could be a set-up to get me in so much trouble that I'll never get out.
I need to start caring about that. But his fingers are up at my crotch, and this time I'm not reaching for his wrist when he starts working them. I'm trying to stop myself from finding out what he's got to play with.
"It'll be fun, Clay," he promises. "Come on. You really want to wait until Rabb and tomorrow?"
Not any more. I'm tired of waiting for Harmon Rabb. It's all I've been doing for a long time now. And there's someone here who wants me. When Palmer stops talking and kisses me, this time my tongue comes out to meet his.
That does it. In a matter of moments he's got my zipper undone and his fingers around my cock, pumping it, still kissing me, agile tongue making me wonder what wonders it could work other places. I'm reaching in for his erection when it hits me. The living room. We're in the living room. Not again. This time it's going to be where I say.
I pull away. His face is flushed and his lips swollen. It looks good on him. And I did it.
"Clay," he whispers and reaches for me. I don't let him.
"Not here." My voice is husky, too. "Or were you planning to get off and leave?"
It takes a minute for this to sink in, but when it does, he smiles. "I was hoping to find out what you look like in the morning. I was wondering that in England..." His voice trails off, and I know he's seen in my eyes what's in my mind. "Sorry."
"I don't want to hear anything about then, Clark. Any more, and you leave." I keep my voice even with an effort. I do not talk about that time. With anyone. The case is closed.
He nods. "But if you're still mad about that, you could make me pay now."
And I know what he means. Damn him. How can he make something I've never even considered sound good? Clark Palmer is a demon in a human disguise. But I can make him behave in another way, a way that's more fun for me.
"Shut up," I say and get his mouth under mine, taking back control.
When I lift it, he's smiling. "So where are we going to do it, Clay?"
Thank god I have a guest room. And it doesn't look like one, or rather, my room looks just like it. "Let me up, and I'll show you."
He shifts and I stand. He follows me to the guest room and doesn't say a word about it. He just reaches for me and starts taking off my clothes.
"You can do whatever you want to me, Clay," he whispers. "Anything. I'll let you."
"What do you like?" His fingers are swift. My shirt is already half-off, and his hands sliding over my skin are making me lose my control. I'm ready to shove into him and I don't want this to be over that fast. Although I think I'll be getting another chance at him.
Clark Palmer belongs to me tonight. I like that thought.
"I've never done it with someone I liked." I'm sure that he means that for men, not women. "I don't know. You do what you want."
Anything I want. And he's stripping now, his body lean and muscled and much more interesting than I'd ever thought. Where did he get all those scars? I get out of my pants, then reach out to touch one on his thigh. Some of those are from me. From the games he and I have played over the years.
And is this a game, too, Clark? Am I losing to you? Or is this how to win? But I look in those light green eyes and see only passion. And that's what I want.
I see that he's naked now and reach for him, but instead he's on his knees.
"Let me do this," he whispers and takes my cock in his mouth.
God, Harm never offered this. I'm swaying as his tongue swirls over my shaft, as he manages an incredible suction, and I have to hold on to his hair to stand, then pull on it to make him stop. Even though right now I don't want to do anything but come in his mouth, there is something more that I want. To keep this going. Everything is suddenly so simple, so right. It won't last, but I'm not ready to let it go yet.
He lingers over the simple act of letting my cock out of his mouth, and I tug harder. He's pushing my self-control. He looks up at me, then stands and comes up against my body.
"Sorry. Couldn't resist. I am glad you stopped me. I don't want this over too soon." His lips are on mine again, and I can feel his hard-on pressing against my skin.
When I can get my mouth free, I look up at him. Another tall one. I know how to deal with that problem.
"This is definitely not over," I say very softly, and see his eyes glaze over. "I think you were the one who said he wanted to be here in the morning?" He nods. 'Then get on the bed, Clark. I'm not even close to being finished with you yet."
He scrambles on the bed so fast he catches his foot on the comforter and nearly falls back off. I watch him recover with a smile, then join him.
"So I'm to believe that you like me?" I pin him against the headboard with my body, and he doesn't fight it, just smiles himself.
"I'm here," he says very simply, and I realize that's just what I want. He's here with *me*, and the funny thing is that I can trust him on this. Not on anything else in the world, but here in this bed, with his eyes on mine, I can trust him.
"Is this all we're going to do? Look into each other's eyes?" His hand flattens over his stomach, then slips down to his crotch. "I was hoping for something more entertaining. Want me to start a show for you, Clay? I'm good at that."
"Smart ass," I say and take his mouth again. I smile at how swollen his lips are when I finish with them. He's looking better all the time. "You always had that damned smart mouth, didn't you?"
"You liked it a minute ago. Want me to remind you?" He's giving me a look that's teasing, but serious. If I tell him I want his mouth around my cock, he'll do it.
"I remember. What I'd like to find out is how you sound with my mouth working on you," I say, and his head drops back as his legs spread. I've never seen anyone surrender so quickly, and that's just using words.
Right now, Clark trusts me.
I start up at his neck, sucking at the skin until his hands come up to grab my forearms.
Of course. He's not going to want bruises. Idiot. "You want me to stop?"
He takes a breath and gets some words out. "No. Just," he's panting, "it's so much." His eyes open, and I can see that the glaze is back. "You do this to Rabb?"
And now he's here. In the corner, watching, the same uniform as on that tape. I can't read the look in his eyes.
"Stop talking about him."
"Why? I thought he was the one you wanted. I can be him, if you want. Should have said that earlier." His face changes, into something not-Palmer. Calm, proud, certain. "I need a favor, Webb." And it's Rabb's voice. God.
I don't want that. Not now. "Be quiet, Clark. I want you."
I can't believe I'm saying that about Clark Palmer. But it makes him lick his lips and shut up, and that's enough for me. I fasten my mouth on his throat, sucking harder, and he arches up against me, sounds coming out of him, desperate, hungry ones. I must be doing something right.
"More, Clay. Please, I can't..." He ends up moaning instead of finishing the sentence. I like that I've gotten clever, verbal Clark Palmer to lose his words. I leave his throat and move down to his nipples. As soon as I flick one with my tongue, he cries out. Very sensitive. This is going to be fun, as long as I can keep myself from coming too soon. I move my body so that my erection isn't touching him and start playing with them. He's gripping the comforter now, and I can't resist sucking, leaving marks here, too. I want to mark him all over, counterpoint the white scars with purple bruises. All it does is make him more crazy. He's thrusting his cock into the air, face screwed up into a mask of need. I love seeing that.
I've done this to Clark Palmer, made him desperate, wanting, crazy. Maybe this is punishment enough for England. He's having to take this from me, wait for me to let him come.
But he wants this from me. If he wants it, is it really punishment? And when did I start using sex for that? That's not who I am.
I move to the other nipple and start sucking it. His moan is deeper this time. He's really liking this. Good.
Even though I can't see Harm, I know he's frowning. At least he doesn't know what I'm remembering. I've never told anyone that story. Never.
*You can't trust Clark Palmer,* he insists. *You know that. What are you doing in bed with him? You're supposed to be the spook, the one who knows all the rules, all the games. He's playing with your head now. Stop this, before it gets you hurt.*
My conscience. But I don't want to listen to him right now. *He wants me. And he's willing to tell me. You're not. Go to hell, Harm, or just go away.*
And he's gone. Good. I get back to Clark, move down his chest, just kissing now. He's too thin to have anything to suck or bite, so I end up at his cock, which is up against his belly. I kiss the head, let my tongue brush over the sensitive skin, then stop.
"Please, Clay," he whispers, his voice hoarse from all the moaning.
"Please what, Clark?" There's something dark waking in me, something that wants to hear him beg.
He does. "Please suck on me." He writhes, pushes his hips up toward my mouth. I pull back.
It's what I was going to do, but instead I smile and shake my head. I don't want to any more. And this is about what I want.
He could just reach down and take hold of himself or me, but instead he grips his handfuls of comforter tighter. "Please, Clay," he tries again.
I don't know what's going on. All I know is that the last time I felt this way was when I stopped and made Harmon Rabb say my name before I let us both come. And this is stronger than that. I want this man to know just who he's dealing with. Who is going to be fucking him later. I want Clark Palmer to do some work now.
"You were going to show me what you learned in prison, Clark," I say very softly. "Is this what you learned? To lie there and moan?"
His eyes change then, become focused, intense. "I learned a lot of things." He stretches, keeping his eyes on mine. "Tell me what you want, Clay. I already said I'd do it."
I like him this way, too. Maybe I'll make him beg again later. I don't want to be thinking of Harmon Rabb again. Not here. Not now.
"Get that smart mouth back on my cock," I order, and he lets me see him smile and trace his lips with the tip of his tongue before he does. I moan as soon as I feel his mouth take me in. Yes. This is much better. I can feel him sucking, licking, working all the spots that get me harder and closer, and I'm getting really close. For a moment I think about filling that mouth that makes so much trouble for everyone with my come, but I have a better idea. And he said I could do anything. I don't have to worry about him saying no.
There's something very wild about that idea.
I pull out of his mouth. He smiles. "Yes."
I don't know how he knows what I want, maybe he can read it in my eyes, but he's moving into position on his hands and knees, slowly, posing, keeping his eyes on me until he has to turn his head, and I can't breathe.
He's teasing me, damn him. He's going to pay for that. I'm going to make him wait a long time before he comes. Maybe even longer than I do.
The thought of making him wait makes me even harder. "Stay there," I say to his back, and get off the bed.
When I come back, I'm carrying a bottle of lubricant. I actually went out and bought it right after that second time with Harm, in a stupid, reckless hope that if I had it, he'd come over. Really stupid.
But it's just what I need now.
I get back on the bed and see his body tense. He's wondering what I'm doing. He must know that I left the room, but he's facing away from the door and can't see a damned thing.
"Worried, Clark?" I tease, letting my finger touch his back. He shivers, but only a little. "I thought I could do anything. You can't take that back, you know."
"I know," he murmurs, and his voice is much more controlled than I thought it would be. "I'm not. Go ahead and fuck me, Clay. I have done this before. And I'm sure you'll be better than those idiots in Leavenworth." I can even hear a smile in his voice.
I don't like that he's this controlled. I reach down and find his cock, stroke it until I hear those sounds again, the ones that tell me that he's not thinking, just feeling. Just wanting. And then I get the bottle open and put some on my free hand, then set it on the stand and start stroking his opening, getting it nice and wet. His moans get even louder, and I smile.
I'm wondering if he's really going to go through with this. The Clark Palmer I know, think I know, would never let anyone fuck him. I'm sure of that. But this man in my bed? He seems to be up for anything. And I'm definitely not in the mood to bend over and take it.
I stop just stroking his hole and start to work in a finger. His whole body is trembling now, and he's arching back to get more. Clark Palmer has absolutely no control at this moment. That makes me smile. I add some lube and get in another one. He's tight, he's hot, he's mine.
"God, Clay," he moans. "Put it in. Please."
I like hearing Clark beg. "Soon. You can wait a little longer, right? You and I know about being patient." Now I'm teasing him.
The noise he makes shows me what he thinks of that. It's not what he wants. "Now, Clay." He thrusts back onto my fingers with a moan. "You make it feel so damned good. Why should we wait?"
Not the worst attitude in the world. And I've got myself slicked up and ready to push in. I pull out my fingers and see that all they've got on them is lube, and wonder just how much preparation Clark did for this, if he was planning for it before he came here, then decide that I don't really care and put the head of my cock up against his hole. The muscles relax right away, as though he's taught himself, or been taught, just what to do to please whomever's fucking him, and I let out a sigh and push. He wants this, too. I can tell. He was begging for it.
He groans, and for a moment I think that I'm hurting him, that I should pull out and put on even more lubricant, but then he's back to moaning and he's pushing back against me, trying to get more in.
Amazing. Clark Palmer this desperate for anything that can't be sold to the highest bidder. But then he could sell this. Tonight, I'm getting it for free. Another thought I like. And I push into him some more, wiping the hand that was in him on his hip. He doesn't care. He's too busy taking my cock. That's all he cares about now.
Soon his ass has swallowed my cock and he doesn't seem to need any time to adjust to it. He's letting out moans and cries and when I wrap my free hand around his cock, he bucks into it and I know that he's more than ready. And I give him what he wants. What I want.
I decide not to make him wait. He's being too good for that. I pump into him as I pump his shaft and he comes a second or two before I do. The muscles contracting around my cock get me off so hard. I end up resting my weight on him, and it takes me a minute to recover enough to pull out.
I check on him when I've gotten myself sitting again. His shoulders are down and he's slumping, crouched, and very still. I touch his back. He shivers.
"Clark." I hope that my voice is calm. I'm worried that he's flashing back to some prison memory, that he's going to freak out here. I don't want that. I want him to enjoy this as much as I did. I do not rape anyone, ever.
To my relief, he raises his head to look at me. "I'm O.K., Clay." He even gives me a smile. "But tired. It's never been like that. I need some time to recover."
I smile back. "I'm tired, too. I'll get cleaned up and then we can sleep." Of course, maybe he's changed his mind about that. Maybe it would be better if he left.
He doesn't say anything about that, though, and I can't just tell him to, not after I said he could stay. And I want to have him again. Have him. That is the right word for what I'm feeling right now about Clark Palmer.
"I'd like to use it when you're done."
"Of course. I'll get you out some towels." I turn and head toward it and find that he's right behind me.
"Sorry," he murmurs and stops. "But I wanted to know where it was. I'll wait."
"No." He is a guest. I take out a set of towels and put them by the sink. "You go first."
He smiles. "Thanks. I won't be long." I have to pass by him as I leave, and he leans over to take my mouth in a long, soft, but deep kiss. God, he's good at that. "I don't really plan on sleeping that long, Clay," he murmurs. "And I have some ideas to wake you up if you do. Interesting ones." The smile turns into a grin. "Just thought I'd let you know."
He goes through the doorway and I remember to breathe. Still teasing, still seducing, still wanting me. Oh, I have missed this. Or maybe it's that I've never really had it.
******************
We don't get that much sleep. Clark wakes me up twice, once with his mouth sucking down my cock and the other with his mouth on one nipple and his fingers playing with the other, and I can't believe I'm getting it up that much. The third time I find my arms wrapped around his lean body and start playing with it, learning the planes and contours of him. When he wakes up, moaning with a low intensity that sounds so good, I'm stroking his cock and he's hard. I'm not there yet, and I don't expect to be. I'm amazed that he is.
I realize that I've been the only one doing the taking and ask him if he wants a turn at me, and he laughs.
"Not interested, but thank you." He nuzzles up against me, his teeth finding and worrying a fold of skin on my throat. "Maybe another time."
Another time. I clear my throat. "I wasn't thinking we'd do this again, Clark."
"I would hope you hadn't been *thinking* that much at all, Clay." That dark tone in his voice, and it's getting to me, dammit. His body feels so good against mine. "But why shouldn't we do this again some time? You're going to have to get tired of just Rabb after a while. And you know I'm good."
"Why do you want this, Clark?" I shake off the lure of sex and his body and sit up.
"I need more of a reason than you?"
"Actually, yes." I evade his mouth. He's trying something. I have to know what's going on.
I hear him sigh. "I didn't think you were planning on *marrying* him, Clay. Certainly you'll have time for a night or two with me. I'm not asking for that much."
It's important that I stay calm. "Clark. If you want me to do your dirty work, you're going to have to accept that I'm going to need to do it my way. Without interference. And without question."
I hope that shuts him up, and stops him from realizing that I haven't really given him an answer. The idea of having Clark Palmer being a regular bed partner is too much for this time of the morning. This really should be over when he leaves.
But no matter what I've told Clark, I've given up the game of making Harm pay for information by coming to my bed. And Commander Harmon Rabb isn't going to go against the Navy regulations for me, even if he does call out for me when he comes. It would take a miracle for that to happen.
I don't believe in miracles.
Clark laughs, bringing me out of my thoughts.
"Clay, you're not doing any of this for me. You're already trying to figure out how to save Harm. I know that. Your little scene of giving in to the Dark Side didn't fool me at all." His laugh is slower this time, and I feel like cursing. Damn Palmer. He's always finding some way to get ahead of me. "But it certainly gave me a good excuse to go ahead and get on with the rest of my plans for the evening." And he gets my near nipple between his lips and sucks until I let out a moan. I thought I was exhausted. Apparently not. "You just go ahead and do what you want," he purrs when he releases it. "You'll do just fine. You want him, you'll see how to get him, and you won't be able to help yourself."
There's some light coming in through the curtains, and I can see his mocking smile. "What makes you think I'm not planning to do that anyway?" He thinks he knows me. And maybe he does, but I'm not going to just let him get away with that.
"Clayton, Clayton, Clayton," he sighs and shifts so that his head is down at my crotch. It's an odd position for a talk. His tongue flicks out to touch my shaft, which is getting hard. "You're really too good to be CIA. I do mean that. If we weren't such old friends, I might even believe you. But I knew you way back when."
Not again. Damn Clark Palmer. I want to glare at him but he's not looking at me.
"Back when you still believed that right and good would triumph, if they got enough help. Back when David Stoner was alive."
I can't believe he's brought that up again. I twist away from him but he holds on, and I find that Clark Palmer is very strong indeed. In a matter of moments he's got me pinned to the bed and is leaning over me.
"David Stoner." He says the name again, more slowly this time. "He's dead, Clayton. I was there when he died. When he put the gun to his head. And I didn't stop him. I watched him pull the trigger. I let him die. Even though I knew he was your friend."
"I warned you about this. Get out of here." I can't take hearing this. It's like I can see it, David's white, thin face as that group shot at each other, and the gun rising. I have to get that picture out of my head.
He doesn't move. "And I'm your last link to him. Do you really want to throw me away? Do you really want to keep pretending that never happened? I heard what he said when he was dying, Clayton. Wouldn't you like to know, too? I can tell you. I will tell you."
I stare at him. Is he trying to tell me that David said something about me? To me? Would it make a difference?
"You said that he didn't recognize you." That's what comes into my mouth, surprising me. But it's the right thing to say.
"Maybe he did," he says very softly. "He wanted me to give you a message. And why else would he talk to me about you, unless he knew I could do that for him?"
Goddamn Clark Palmer. He *told* me back then that David hadn't recognized him. He lied to me. I want to kill him.
But I want to know what David said. And I don't want to. Because if David knew it was Palmer, then he had to have thought that *I* ordered the hit. So that would mean that he killed himself, because he thought I betrayed him.
And I did.
My breathing is harsh, and I jerk to try and get him off, but he just laughs. "I had to fight to stay alive in Leavenworth, Clay," he whispers. "I didn't just bend over and fuck for protection. I'm very good at it now."
"I can see that." And I reach up and get his nipple between my lips, suck it hard, and watch him jerk. "Did you learn to like that in Leavenworth, Clark?"
"No, Clay," he murmurs back. "I liked that all along. But it's really good when you do it." And his mouth is devouring mine, and I'm glad. He's not talking.
He pulls back after a long moment, and his lips are even more swollen now than when I first kissed him. "We are going to talk about that time at some point, Clay. I promise you that." He kisses me again before I can tell him to go to hell, and god, he is so good at this. "But I'll make you a deal. You keep letting me into this bed, and I'll wait. And I'll do my best to stay out of your and Harm's little affair. Just as long as you make sure he knows I'm out."
He's working his hips, our cocks bumping and touching and sliding on each other, and I really can't believe I'm hard again. Or that I'm enjoying this after Clark Palmer has brought up something that still hurts to think about. Which is why I don't.
"He'll take care of the rest," he breathes, his eyes gleaming. "Harm will make it impossible for you to do anything but what I want. I know Harm. He'll always manage to find the way to make his life the most difficult it can be. It's just his special gift."
That almost makes me smile. Yes, I've seen Harm do that.
He lifts himself off me. "But right now I've changed my mind, Clay. I do want a turn at you. Can you handle it?"
Just when I think I understand him, I don't. He's asking me. "No." And I wait for him to laugh and tell me that I offered.
But he doesn't argue. "All right." And he sits up. "Your mouth." He flashes a wicked smile. "I really like your mouth, Clay. I'm going to have serious problems not coming over and kissing you when I see you out in the world. Or dragging you off to an empty office or bathroom stall."
"Try and control yourself, Clark." I wish I sounded more scathing. But the thought of him looking at me and wanting that is enough to intrigue me. And I'm hard again, very hard.
His hand comes down to fasten around my shaft. "Ummm," he purrs. "Maybe I had the wrong idea." And he leans in to kiss me. "Get your hand around me," he directs when we come up for air. "This way I get both your mouth and your hands. God, you're good at this." And he's kissing me again, and his hand is stroking me, getting me to push up into his tight fingers, and I'm blindly working him, and then I'm moaning into his mouth and coming, and he's coming, too.
And I know that I won't tell him again that it's just this time. Because I'll do just about anything to keep from having to talk about that mission. About David's death. Even let Clark Palmer into my bed. Especially since I really like having him there. But I wish that I didn't like it that much.
Right now it feels as though I've had sex with a cobra. A very venomous one.
******************
I don't even try to get back to sleep after that. I get up and pull on my shirt, then go into the kitchen and get down the beans. Clark comes in as I'm measuring them into the grinder.
"Smells good," he offers. "Do I get any?"
"Certainly." I know that I sound stiff, but I can't help it. I keep my back to him. This is more than a little awkward. Very much more than a little. And I don't say anything. I don't really know what to say. I haven't had an overnight guest for...a very long time. And I was hoping that Harm would be the first. But instead it's Clark Palmer.
What do you do for a cobra the next morning? Go get him some plump mice?
"Want me to make some toast, or something?"
I shake my head, refusing his offer, and he doesn't say any more. He's friendly, relaxed, everything I would want in a casual pickup the next morning. But I didn't ever plan to have him here. I don't know how to handle this. There's too much history between us, too much anger, too much pain. I want him here, but I don't want him. And I do not know what he wants from me, except more sex. And maybe, to make me pay for that mission. Damn. Do not want to think about that, not now, not ever. And he's the one who should pay.
I decide that the best thing might just be to ask him.
"I'm a little tired to play games right now, Clark. What do you want?"
"I got what I wanted, Clay. And I'll get it again. Or are we going to have that talk about England?"
I finally turn around. "Why do you want that so much?" My question is deliberately vague, and it makes him smile. He does look good when he smiles.
"Very nice," he murmurs and leans against the wall. I've never seen him this relaxed. He's pulled on his shirt, just like me, nothing else. I'm sure I look disreputable and ridiculous, but he looks good, even with the marks on his neck. And there are a lot of marks there. Marks I put there. Marks to say that he was mine. Is mine. Oh, god. I want Clark Palmer. Now. Again. And I'm much too exhausted to be anything but honest with myself.
He rakes a hand through his short hair. "I want to come over and fuck, well, get fucked, because I like it, and because you're good at it. And because you know who I am." He laughs. "Just about the only other people who have that honor are enemies. Like Harm. And I wouldn't want to move in on you. Plus," he darts a mocking look at me, "I don't know if he knows what he's doing yet. I still haven't gotten any confirmation on that from you." He watches me as I grind the beans, then dump them into the filter basket. "And I'm sure I'm not going to. And for the other part of the question, I want to have that talk so that you and I can get that out of our way and go on the way we should have been, which is as partners."
"That is not going to happen." My voice is cold. Sex is one thing. Work is another.
"It could. This is D.C., Clay. It's actually quite possible." A pause. "We did work well together. And someone's going to find that out when they go through my record. They probably already know."
I open my mouth, then close it. It doesn't matter that the story in the files is inaccurate, is wrong. It still shows that Clark Palmer and I had a mission together. And I've seen the reports on the two of us. They say just what he does, that we were a good team. But that was then. There's no saying we would be now.
I tell him that. He shrugs.
"We could be. But you don't have to worry about that this second, Clay. And I'm not going to be here every night, obviously. I'll call when I'm interested. And you can always say no. Just don't say it too often, or I'll be here for that talk."
And I know that I won't be able to stop him, that he'll just keep pushing, finding all my weak place until I break. I don't want to break. I can't afford that. Ever.
"And if you decide that you're ready for it, all you have to do is tell me. I'll make the time to get that settled."
I see that the coffee has finished brewing and pour myself a mug. Clark comes over and get himself one, too.
"You would feel better if you talked about it, Clay," he says very gently, and I know he's right. But I shake my head. I can't face that. I can't even think that there will ever be a time when I will be able to. It hurts so much, so horribly much. He can't know. And I can't tell him, or anyone. I tried when the Company sent me to therapy after David...died, but I couldn't say much more than that I was furious he was dead. Then I had to go on another mission, and the therapist decided that I was sublimating my anger into my job and that it was a good thing and cleared me. I've never been back. I don't like therapy. No one has the right to ask about my past. I can handle it on my own. I have been handling it. And I've been just fine.
Until now.
"All right then." He concentrates on his coffee and we're both quiet. He finishes and stands. "Time for me to leave. You could use a nap, and I've got to meet someone at seven. If I'm going to get a shower and a change of clothes, I'd better get going. No," he adds when I open my mouth, "I'm not going to impose on you. I'll just get dressed and go." And he leaves.
I keep sipping my coffee and after a few minutes, he's back, rumpled but together. I smile at the sight. I never could have pictured him this way. Boyish, happy, mine. Yes, still mine. Interesting, horrible thought. Wanting to own someone. I don't know myself at all any more. Not at all.
And he laughs. "Look like I've been out all night, don't I? And everybody's going to know that I had a great time." He leans over to kiss me and I let him. I don't know why. He's come in and fucked up my life and I still find myself wanting to get more of that mouth on mine. It must be because it's been so long. And because I see something I want in him. Something that I need. But I can't. I won't. Not Palmer.
He's the one to pull away. "Save some of that action for Harm," he advises, and his smile is as open and happy as I've ever seen on his face. "If he gets half as lucky as I did last night..." His voice trails off and he laughs. "God, am I ever doing him a favor."
I want to tell him that I won't go see Harm, but I'm not stupid. I know if I don't, he will. Clark Palmer hasn't changed that much. He'd love to go over and surprise Harm. I won't let that happen.
But I'm not looking forward to it. I'm too tired to play games with Rabb. And too tired to fight myself with him, too. And I have to. Clayton Webb plays mind games, but he's still a good person.
Or am I? What am I now? I have to think about that, have to know. Later.
"All you have to do is tell him," he purrs and comes closer. I can smell him even more now, all musk and sex and me. "And let yourself go with the situation. You won't be hurting him, Clay. He wants you." He pauses. "You, Clayton Webb. Not some guy he could pick up in a bar. You'd really be doing him a favor. And if you have to do a little arm-twisting, well, that's just part of the game. After all, isn't that what I did to you? You enjoyed yourself, and if you want to, you can always blame me. It seems a shame to keep Harm from having the same option."
Now I know one reason he came on to me. "So this was all an object lesson in manipulation, Clark Palmer style?"
"No, Clay. This was about me wanting you. And," his eyebrows lift, "you wanting me." He smiles. "I'll be in touch. Make sure you see him today, or I will. You've got until eight tonight. Then I stop in."
I just stare at him. I don't need this. All I want is sleep.
"Take care, Clayton." And his smile changes, warms. He's really gorgeous with that smile. "I'll be looking forward to doing this again. But next time I think I'll be sure to bring dinner. And breakfast. It's only fair, since I'm going to wear you out again." And now he's got an impish grin. "I'm going to start taking vitamins."
I have to say something. This wasn't all bad. Not even close. "You'll let me know." It was wonderful. But I cannot tell him that. It's just not possible.
He nods. "It won't be that soon. I've got things to do. Don't worry. You'll have plenty of time to get Harm dancing on those strings. I know you say you don't want it, but you do. You really do, Clay."
"I don't." I will not want that. No.
"We'll see, won't we?" He shrugs. "I'll see myself out. You take it easy."
And I don't even try to follow him to the hall. I'm exhausted.
When I hear the door shut, I make myself stand and head to bed. I don't have anything pressing this morning and I need sleep. I think I'm going to my bed but I end up back in the guest room, back in that bed. And the last thing I'm thinking as I fall asleep is that I've got to get myself back under control. Got to.
But I know I've gotten myself into the kind of game that can ruin my life. And Harm's. And possibly even Clark's.
Maybe I'll be able to find a way out of this for all of us after some sleep.
Or maybe I have changed everything. And everything has changed me.
The End