Author: Gail
Fandom: JAG
Pairing: Clayton Webb/Clark Palmer
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Clayton Webb decides to clean his office, and makes Clark Palmer help.
Archive: yes to Jagslash, Querstrich, RSA, CKOS, WWOMB. All others, please ask.
Email: gem225@hotmail.com
Web Page: The Unholy Trinity, at: http://www.fortunecity.de/lindenpark/vogelweide/216/main.htm
Disclaimer: The main two characters in this story, Clayton Webb and Clark Palmer, belong to Belisarius Productions and CBS. I am making no profit off this story.
This is yet another PWP set in my Eclipse universe, where Clayton Webb and Clark Palmer became lovers when Clark blackmailed Clayton into bed. Over time the whole blackmail issue was resolved, and now they're together because they want to be. If anyone wishes to read how they got here, the multi-part Eclipse series is (will be) at The Unholy Trinity as well as other places, locations available upon request. This would take place sometime after part 10.
This one's for Tinnean and Alex, because they're both back online, and I'm happy about that.
Eclipse 10E_Moving files
by Gail
*****
Clark Palmer heard the intercom go off and reached for the button. "Yes?"
"My office, now, Palmer."
He raised his eyebrows at the sound of the familiar voice summoning him. "Right away, Webb." He cut the connection and stood. What did Webb want with him now? It was two in the afternoon, so it had to be work, but it was Friday after all, so maybe it wasn't.
He reached up to make sure his tie was straight and smoothed his hands over his jacket. Only his best appearance for Clayton Webb. That was how he'd learned to behave in his training at the DSD, and while he knew that Webb didn't expect him to live up to that standard, didn't even know what the DSD standard was, he, Clark Palmer, wanted to look his best for his superior and the man he cared for.
He licked his lips at the thought of the coming weekend. Just a few more hours and they'd be out of this damned building. He wondered idly as he walked down the hall if Clay would want to go home or if he'd come to his place. Maybe they'd even get out of whatever place they went to and do something for a change. He held his laugh in. Not very likely. It was too much fun staying in the private world they made together, too perfect, now that Rabb was out of the picture and the whole Stoner thing was settled. No more need to worry about keeping a hold on Clay. He knew he had one, and it was because Clay wanted him and gave a damn about him.
He knocked on Webb's door and reached for the knob even before he heard the calm "Come in."
Once inside, he shut the door, then made a few easy strides over to stand in front of the other man's desk. "What can I do for you, boss?" He was in too good a mood to resist the joke.
Webb shook his head. "Your sense of humor is going to get you into trouble one of these days, Palmer."
Clark's mouth quirked in a smile, then smoothed. "Sorry, Webb."
Webb nodded in acknowledgment. "I need your help with some," he paused, "work." His eyes flickered over Palmer's body, and Palmer felt himself harden at the interest in Webb's eyes as they burned through him. God, was Clay actually going to do something here? His breath quickened, and he shifted in place, trying to decide what his next move should be. To wait, he decided when Webb just raised his eyebrows at his movement. Clay got off on having the power here, and Clark knew that he got off on it even more.
DSD training, he thought ruefully. The superior determines everything. Even to the extent that in his training, his immediate superior had had no qualms about telling him that he was not allowed to masturbate without permission. That had been an ordeal, having to steel himself up enough to ask an older and very forbidding man for permission to jerk off, and waiting in front of his desk while he considered the request. Then being given his answer, and finding out that he also was assigned a place and time to do it, along with a time limit. His superior had never shown any overt personal or sexual interest in him, but Clark had been certain that he had enjoyed the power. When Clark had made full agent, and risen to enough power that he could access private files, he'd made sure to destroy all the tapes the man had made of him. No one was going to blackmail him.
He glanced at Webb, who was still watching him. Of course, if Clay wanted him to jerk off in front of a camera, then threaten to show everyone in the whole fucking Company the damned thing, he'd do it, and promise, then perform anything to get out of that showing. He trusted Clay. It would only be a game.
"What kind of work, Webb?" He had to stop thinking about DSD training. He was in the CIA now, Clayton Webb's partner, and his life was so much better than he'd ever thought it would be.
Webb's smile lengthened. "I'm so glad to see that I have your attention again, Palmer." Clark suppressed a flush at that and felt his erection press against his leg. Damn Webb for being so...DSD now. He was going to have to talk to the other man about doing that at work, but he suspected it was on purpose. Webb loved getting him off-balance. "I've decided to rearrange my office. You're going to help me."
Clark frowned. Rearrange his office? No, he couldn't do that. It was perfect this way. He wanted it kept the same as when he'd first come to the CIA. It was familiar and comforting and right. But he saw Webb's look, and resigned himself to the change. "What do you want me to do?"
"That's better." Webb gestured to the corner behind him, and Palmer turned to look at the stack of prefabricated boxes leaning against the wall. "Make those up, and then start going through this file cabinet. It's time to weed out all the files that are closed and put them into storage."
Clark looked at the file cabinet and knew that it was going to be a long afternoon. "I thought you wanted to rearrange the office, not clean it."
"Are you questioning me, Palmer?" The cool voice made Clark wish he'd shut the fuck up. Damn, damn, damn. He knew better than to question Clayton Webb while they were at the Company. He was going to have to watch himself. He shook his head. "That's good. I don't want you," he paused, "forgetting who's in charge here."
Clark felt like moaning. Clay was not playing fair at all. He lowered his head and his eyes, but made sure to give Webb a quick look. No, he was not in the mood to have Clark be bad. It was obvious to Clark from how Webb was acting. All right, he could be good and go through files and then do god knows what. Anything to make Clayton Webb happy.
******
It was seven-thirty before he finished going through the file cabinet. He sighed and reached for the coffee that he'd gotten during a break in the work. He drank the cool and bitter brew, grimaced, then looked at Webb. He was frowning at his monitor, and Clark waited until he looked up.
"I'm done," he said pointedly and nodded to the assortment of now-full boxes. "Enough for one day?" His resolution to be good was gone. He was hungry, tired, and sweaty, and all Webb was doing was looking at him as though he was some kind of strange insect. He wanted to go home, have a drink and a shower, and then see about some serious sex. But he was beginning to think that his agenda was not the same as his superior's.
The next words confirmed that. "No, Palmer. I want this done *today*, or at least this weekend. And you haven't finished the files yet. I need a complete list of what's being sent to
storage. It doesn't look to me as though you've done that."
Clark just looked at him. He could not be serious about this. They always spent the weekend together. This was not together. This was work, and unnecessary work at that.
"Webb, come on, this is nuts," he started, a low, dangerous note in his voice, then saw Webb's smile and shut up.
"I'm sorry, Palmer, am I hearing you right? Did you just voice an objection to the assignment that I've given you?" And the amused note in his lover's voice was enough to make him understand. Clayton was playing a game with him. His cock, which had lost its hardness hours ago in the hard work, woke again. "Is this how you think a junior agent behaves here in the Company?"
Palmer wet his lips. "I'm sorry. I misspoke. Mr. Webb," he couldn't resist adding. The hell with being good. He was going to have fun. Both he and Clay knew that anything sent to storage would be inventoried by the people there. This was Clay making him work for his own pleasure, and he could deal with that. And enjoy every minute of it.
"Apology accepted, Palmer." Clay shot him a hard glance that only made Clark smile. "You'll have to make the list later. I'm using this machine."
"Yes, sir, Mr. Webb, sir," Clark pushed. He lifted his arms over his head and stretched, keeping his eyes on Clay the whole time. Yeah, he was watching. Good. Two could play games, and the place had to be deserted by now. They were the only ones who ever stayed late on this level. Good thing, too. He lowered his arms and smiled again at his superior. "So what do you," he paused, "want me to do? Sir?" It had been a long time since he'd tried to provoke Clay at the office.
"What I want you to do?" Clay echoed and leaned over. "Good question. Get changed." He came up with a bag and tossed it to Clark. "Then start moving these boxes down to storage. And use the stairs, Clark. The exercise will be good for you."
"What about the list, Mr. Webb?" He let his voice get mocking.
"Just get changed, Palmer. And I've told you how to address me."
"Sorry. Guess I forgot."
Clay stared at him. "Yes, it seems you did," he said very softly. "Change, Palmer. Then get going with the boxes."
Palmer just grinned at him and turned his back to leave. He whistled all the way to his office, where he quickly got out of his suit and hung it, then worked himself into the pair of jeans and t-shirt that Clay had provided for him. They were new, and very tight on him. He licked his lips. So Clay wanted to dress him up? What kind of game were they playing? He'd find out, and maybe even take it over. Hell, he loved playing Clay's games, but it was definitely time to try something else, to find out just how Clay would deal with him fighting back.
And he was going to fight back.
He slid into the sneakers, then headed back to Webb's office. "Like it?"
Clay glanced up, then down. "Suitable for work. Get going."
"Sure thing." Clark started whistling as he lifted the first box.
"Stop that."
Clark grinned to himself. It was working. "Stop what?"
"That noise," Clayton snapped.
"Oh, sorry, boss." His voice was back to mocking.
Suddenly Clayton was over beside him. "Stop it." His voice was low and commanding.
But Clark just smiled, fighting his own desire to submit. It was time for a different game, one he ran. "You are so sexy when you start playing at being in charge." He licked his lips and held Clayton's eyes with his own, looking down at him. He took a step forward. "But we both know that I'm better at it than you are. We both know I can make you do anything I want, Clay, whenever I want to. And I want that now."
Clayton drew in a sharp breath. "Goddamn you, Clark," he whispered and took a step back. "Stop this, now."
"Why, Clay? Oh, because you're the senior here? I don't think so." He waited, but Clayton didn't say anything more, just stood there. "These don't need to be done tonight, and they're not going to be. Get your things. You're coming with me." He reached over to stroke Clayton's cheek, his long fingers smoothing over the roughened skin. "You know you want to," he whispered. "You know you want me." Clayton was trembling as Clark's hands skimmed his arms, then came to rest on his shoulders. "I'll take care of everything," Clark promised and smiled to himself. Oh, yes. He could do that. "All you have to do is do as you're told. Can you do that, Clay?"
Clayton's eyes were dark and wide as he lifted his face to look at Clark. "Damn you," he whispered again. "You..." His voice died away as Clark laughed.
"Damn me? You don't want to do that, Clay. You need me too much. But it's up to you. I can leave now. I can go home. Or hell, in this outfit I can go to any goddamn bar in the city and find
someone to take home. Is that what you want me to do?"
Clark knew he was playing dirty here, but he also knew there was no way in hell he was going anywhere but where Clayton Webb was. Let him sweat a little. All the nights he'd spent in his bed, knowing that Clayton was with Harmon Rabb, making himself stay put, not go and take his lover away from the man who was only hurting him, only using him, were coming back to him. The pain, the fucking insane jealousy, the erections that wouldn't go away until he gave in and got himself off, all the time wishing it was Clayton stroking him, he needed some kind of revenge for them, and he wanted it now.
Clayton straightened at that. "You want to go to some bar, Clark? The door's right there. Go ahead."
Shit. He'd played it wrong. Clayton was drawing into himself, putting up those walls of his. "I'm not going anywhere." He pressed his body against Clayton's. "Except with you."
"Then stop this damned game of yours and get the files down to storage. Now."
Clark stepped back. Damn. It had been going so well. But if Clay didn't want to play, they wouldn't. And he'd be fine, as long as he ended up with Clay, and he would. He hoped he would.
"Then," Clay's voice was low, "you can take me anywhere you want. Do anything you want with me. That is what you're offering?"
Clark's eyes brightened. So he was going to get to play. "Anything you say, Webb," he murmured and smiled before crouching down to lift the first box.
Clayton watched him all the way to the door. When Clark was gone, he leaned back against the desk and smiled. "Thought that would work," he murmured, then straightened and went back to his desk to wait until Clark was done.
The End