Author: Gail
Fandom: JAG
Pairing: Clayton Webb/Harmon Rabb, Clayton Webb/Clark Palmer (yes, both)
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Clayton Webb learns what David Stoner said before he died.
Archive: yes to WWOMB.
Email: gem225@hotmail.com
Series: Part 9 of the Eclipse series
Web Page: Mareen's Den, at: http://www.fortunecity.de/lindenpark/vogelweide/216/main.htm
Disclaimer: I wish I owned them. I don't, and I'll play very nicely this time with them and put them back when I'm done, promise.
This is for Katja, who wanted this series in the first place, and who wanted Palmer and Webb to end up together; for Tinn, who wanted Clayton to be happy with one of the guys; for Mareen, who seems perfectly happy for me to keep writing and posting; and for Alex, who insists that I'm going to be writing about Webb and Palmer for the rest of my life. I'm blessed by muses and friends.
Eclipse 9: The truth
by Gail
************
He's not even looking at me. I know what he's going to say, but I'm not going to make it easier for him. Let him suffer. He's put me through enough over the last months.
"Clay," he starts, and I wait. It takes a while longer for him to get out the whole sentence. "I'm getting married."
"Congratulations." I keep my voice neutral. That's one way to break up. "When is the wedding?"
He finally meets my eyes, which I hope are calm, and runs a hand through his short hair. Even his uniform's showing the strain, not as crisp as I'm used to. Or maybe he stayed over at her place and didn't hang it up before they went to bed.
"Umm..." He swallows another gulp of beer. "May or June."
"A lot of planning to do." I could laugh at the surprise in his face. What was he expecting me to do, hit him? I knew when he asked me out for a beer after work that he was going to end it. It's classic, and Harm is nothing if not that. I should have asked for a scotch, but I'll have that later. When I'm alone. "Where will it be? Here, or wherever her family is? I'm sure I won't be invited." Should not have said that. Stupid. I wouldn't go if he asked me.
"Clay, I'm sorry."
No, Harm, you're not. You're thrilled to have this be over. But you're scared I'll out you.
I sigh. I don't want to say this, but it's only fair. He hasn't been that rotten. "It's all right, Harm. I knew it wasn't going to last. And don't worry. I haven't told anyone, and I won't tell anyone." I can't take him asking one more time if his career is safe. Oh, that's never how he puts it, but I know what he's getting at. "Now, could we talk about the lady? I am curious about her."
He relaxes, but only a little. I'm going to have to make sure he takes a cab home. I'm sure as hell not driving him if I'm not going to get lucky, and I know that I won't. He's got that 'honor and duty' face on, even when he first smiled at me when he saw me. I'm glad I knew this was coming.
"Meg." His face softens. "We were in JAG together. I found her again when a case took me down to Texas."
Where her family has a ranch, lots of horses, no planes. He's not going to fit in that well, but then it's not my problem. I know all about Meg Austin. I wonder if it would be appropriate for me to write her with some tips about how her husband-to-be likes his blow jobs. And the thought makes me hard. Damn. I don't want Harmon Rabb any more. All right, I do. But I can manage without him. I *will* manage without him.
He's drinking his beer and telling me all about her, and I'm nodding and smiling and waiting for this to be over. Then in the corner I see a familiar face, one that I should have expected to see, except that I had no idea he knew about this. Goddamn him. Palmer just can't stay away, not even when it's none of his business. Especially when it's none of his business.
"What's wrong, Clay?" Harm's reaching out, smiling, and with the touch of his hand on my arm, even through my shirt, I feel that same damned rush. I squash it. It's over. It's done.
"Nothing," I say evenly and keep my eyes on him. When I see him again, he'll be someone else. I need to remember him now, with me. "I was trying to think what to give you. I think a place setting would be too much." I have to keep it in mind that he's this Meg's now. She doesn't deserve to be hurt because Harm and I had this sex thing. That is all it was. Sex. Release for him. I don't know any more what it was for me.
"Clay," he's giving me that concerned look that always makes me feel so damned special, even though I know better, "I am sorry. It all happened so fast that first there wasn't anything much to say, and then there was this." So he swept her off her feet. Yes, that's Harmon Rabb for you. Wants it, goes after it, gets it. Gets everything. He leans closer. "I thought we could spend the night together, say goodbye. Will you?"
I did not expect this. I don't know what to do. I stand. "Excuse me a minute, Harm, please." My voice sounds strained even to me, but he just smiles.
"Sure. Just make sure you come back."
I make my way toward the men's room. I know Palmer's going to be following me there. And when I finish my business, he's leaning against the wall by the sinks.
"You all right?" His face is concerned, too. Funny thing to see.
"Fine, Palmer. Get out of here." I turn on the water and get my hands under it before looking at my face. I look like shit.
"Want me to find the bitch and take her out?"
Of course he knows what I do. He keeps track of everything. I don't know how, but someday soon I'm going to find out, right before I stop it. "Clark, for god's sake, it's not her fault. No. Don't you do a damned thing to Ms. Austin."
"I wouldn't hurt her, Clay. I could tell her she's got a fiance who likes guys. It's the truth." His eyes narrow when I shake my head. "So what did he do, promise you goodbye sex?"
"Yes." There's no sense in lying to Clark. He finds out anyway.
"You going to?"
"Yes." Well, that surprises me, but not him. He nods, and I wash my hands, then dry them.
"Fine. I'll see you at work in the morning. Try not to be late. I think we're getting an assignment. I heard something this afternoon about Paris." His voice doesn't change as he keeps talking. "I'd like you to fuck me in Paris."
"Clark. Stop that." I reach out to touch his arm, just like Harm did to me. He lets me, his face closed. I don't know why I do it, except that he matters to me. Even though he keeps blackmailing me into bed on a regular basis. "I'll be on time."
His eyes flicker at that. "You'd be on time for sure if you left with me now."
It's the closest I've ever heard him to begging, except when it's just the two of us. "I can't."
Finally he nods. "Yeah. I know." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a bag. "Make him this time," he says tersely, and shoves it into my hand. Then he's out the door before I can even look at what he's given me.
It's a fresh tube of K-Y jelly, and I know exactly what he's saying.
That I should fuck Harmon Rabb again.
Well, that's not up to me. But maybe this once it is.
************
Harm has coffee and insists he's fine to drive, so I follow him back to his place. Last time. It hurts. I wish it didn't. It shouldn't. I did know it wouldn't last forever.
We get in the door and he pulls me against him, kissing me with an abandon that makes me not care about how much beer I can taste on him. It's been a while since he's gotten this aggressive.
He lifts his head after a long while. "Come on, Clay. Bed." His eyes are hungry, for me. I have to believe that.
Time to ask. "I want to fuck you tonight." Get it out in the open now. If he says no, all right, but I need to know.
He stares at me, then nods. Guilt? All right. I don't care. I want this, I'm going to get it. My way for a change.
In the bedroom, I get out of my suit, hang it where I always do, watch him get out of his uniform. There's a picture by the bed, and it's her. Meg. The woman he's going to marry. I study it for a minute. Very pretty woman. Hope she's up to dealing with him. She's got the look of someone who's stubborn, but sweet. He'll hurt her. I know it. But there's nothing I can do.
When Harm sees what I'm staring at, he picks it up and puts it in a drawer. "Should have done that before," he mutters.
"She's beautiful."
There's a strange look in his eyes, haunted. He doesn't want to do this, I realize suddenly. He really doesn't. At least not now.
I'm not going to let him out of it. I step over in front of him and this time I'm the one doing the kissing, taking his lips, thrusting my tongue into his mouth like I'm going to be thrusting into his ass. I know what he likes, and I do that too, get my hands on his back, the curve of his ass, feel his tongue start its desperate probing of my mouth. I've got him again. Sorry, Meg. He's mine tonight. You can have him when I'm finished.
I wonder for a moment if it would be worth it to let Palmer talk to her. He'd do it. All I have to do is ask. He does everything I ask. I wonder why.
Harm is hard and trembling against me, in a way that I haven't had him since I last *had* him, and I pull him onto the bed. He falls on his back, and I'm on him again before he can catch his breath. Mine tonight, I think again and reach for his cock. And then I see Clark Palmer's face when he hands me the bag. Clark's hurting. He's thinking of what I'm going to do to Harm and lying in bed, hard, but not even touching himself, because he doesn't want to come, he wants me to make him come. I don't know how I know that, but I do, and I hate it. He has to sleep. It's not going to do any good for him to suffer like that. I should call him. But how in hell can I do that now?
I have to. He needs me. I know it. I can't let him be in that kind of pain. Not Clark. Not after all that we've, oh, this is so stupid, been to each other.
I care about him. When the hell did this happen?
When I wasn't paying attention. That's when. And if I'm honest with myself, it started the very first night he and I had sex. He got right under my skin and stayed there. It's better with him than it's ever been with Harm. Now that's scary.
I pull away from Harm. "Back in a minute," I say quietly, and he lets his head fall back on the pillow and blinks at me. Very coherent. I could do what the hell I wanted with him if I just kept going.
I get off the bed, grab my cell phone out of my jacket, check that Harm's eyes are closed, and dial as soon as I'm in the bathroom. I know that I'm going to have to make this quick and very quiet.
He picks up on the first ring. I wonder if he's thinking that I might be in trouble. "Palmer," he says tersely.
"Webb," I say quietly. "Listen to me. You're being an idiot. Go to sleep."
He doesn't deny it, which means I was right. "You're going to fuck him?"
"Yes."
"Hard, please. Like you fuck me, Clay. Give him the best you've got, so that he can jerk off and remember it when all he's got is memories."
"Tomorrow. Good night."
"You'll be with me tomorrow night, Clay." The purr is there now, the dark voice, the one I can't resist. Don't want to resist. "Say yes, Clay. That's all I want to hear. I want you to say it."
"Yes." Now I'm really hard.
"And I'll show you everything I can do. I've got things you haven't seen yet, Clay. See you in the morning." He hangs up.
When I get back to the bed, Harm's eyes are open. "Who the hell were you calling?"
"Company business." So I lie. What does it matter?
"Code, huh?"
"Can't tell you." I've got my hands on him again, and he's hardening right back up. "You don't want to know."
He's thrusting into my hand, so he doesn't argue. Of course he doesn't want to know. He never wants to know anything about me except when it'll help him get something he wants.
I stop before he can come. I am going to fuck him hard. I'll make it good, but he's going to be remembering this one at work tomorrow. I really am going to have to find a way to get over there and take one last look at him the morning after, there in the bullpen or his office or in court where he can't make a joke out of it. I will go over there tomorrow.
But first I need to fuck him.
I urge him over on his front, then grab the tube of jelly from under a pillow. I slipped it there while I was getting undressed. It's a safe bet he doesn't have anything. If you don't have lube, you can count on most guys to smile and give up the idea of taking you.
Have there been other guys here?
No, I'm not going there. This is Harmon Rabb. He's not likely to trust any other guy. That's a given. He doesn't even trust me.
"Clay," his voice interrupts my thoughts, "please." He's turned his head to look at me. "Get on with it."
I stare at him. Get on with it. As though it's something for him to endure. Of course. He's hard, and he sounds like he wants this, but I'm sure that there's a part of him that doesn't. Why the hell did he ask me back here? Does he even know? This is nothing like I ever thought it would be with him. It's a farce, and I prefer opera.
But I told Clark I was going to fuck him. And I asked Harm for this. You want it over with, Harm? All right. And I wet my lips, get the jelly on my fingers and my cock, and work some into him, deciding that two fingers at once is what he deserves for that crack.
He lets out a loud moan as I work him, making sure I get his prostate, and I know he's getting even hotter. Yes, Harm. You're going to get fucked. And you're going to remember it for a long time. Every time you look at me, every time we end up working together on something, and we will, even when I make sure that I get a dance with your wife, you're going to be remembering how I fucked you that last time.
And it will be the last time. I know it.
He's trembling now, and I take out my fingers and push my cock into him. Not slow, not fast, just steady. He can take it.
"God, Clay!" His voice rises, but I just keep pushing, get my other hand down to stroke him. And make myself stop thinking about how Clark would be begging me for more by now, be pushing back and opening up for me...no, this is Harmon Rabb, and he's tight, and hot, and shaking, and he'll do just fine. I need this.
By the time I'm all the way in he's moaning, and I know that it's going to be good for him, and that it's going to be damned good for me. I tighten my grip on his cock and work it in the same rhythm as my thrusts. I don't need long, I don't want long, I want hard and fast and that's what I'm getting. He's certainly in no position to complain.
I start fucking him harder and faster and he just takes it, just keeps moaning, and yes, he's still trembling as I fuck him. It shouldn't be long before he comes and I come and it's over.
And it isn't. He lets out a long scream as he spurts over my hand and the blanket, and I groan and feel him spasm around me, and the fire passes through my cock and out into his body.
One last time.
I pull out as soon as I can and go into the bathroom to clean up. When I come back, he's lying on the bed on his side. I think about asking him if he's all right, but I don't. Instead I go over and start dressing. He just lies there. I can see that his eyes are open. But he says nothing.
Silence. Harm and I are very good at that.
When I'm dressed, I speak.
"I hope you and Meg are happy together." I wait, but nothing. "Are you all right?" I can't help asking now.
"You know this won't happen again."
No, Harm, I thought you'd be calling me up for sex twice a week. "Yes. I know."
"I hope you liked it."
Oh. "Of course I did. You didn't?"
"You always make it good," he says very simply. "But why feed your ego?"
My ego. He's one to talk about ego, but it's not worth saying that now.
"Will you miss it?" I do want to know, and we're talking. It must be something about it being the end.
"No." He's sure of that. I smile to myself. All right, Harm. You keep telling yourself that. I don't believe you. "What will you do?"
That's an interesting question. "Tonight? Go home."
"For sex," he says bluntly. "Without me."
I can't breathe. Then I hear Clark's voice telling me that I'll be with him tomorrow night, and I can. "I think I'll survive," I say lightly. "You're not my only option, you know. Or maybe you don't know. But you're not."
He sits up. "You didn't say you had a girlfriend. Well, that's good news."
Jumping to conclusions. Don't they teach lawyers to avoid that mistake?
"I didn't say I had a girlfriend, Harm." I am so glad that I can see the shock on his face. He thought he was the only man he looked at? Not even close, Harm.
"You've been seeing a guy? Who is he?" His voice is angry.
"Not your business, Harm. Remember, you're marrying Ms. Austin." He flinches from that, but recovers.
"Listen, Clay, I'm just concerned."
We are going to have to deal with each other in the future. It's not going to help to get him furious with me.
"Thank you." I leave it at that.
"Will you at least tell me if I know him?"
Lie. "No. You don't."
His face relaxes. I didn't really lie. He doesn't know that Clark Palmer who works with me, sleeps with me. "Well," he's having a hard time with this, "I hope you two are happy."
You just don't want me to have anyone else, do you, Harm? Oh, a woman would be fine, but you want to be the one and only man. Sorry, you don't get that honor.
"Thanks. I'll see you around," I say quietly.
He nods. "Take care." And then he stands, and I think he's going to hug me or something, but he holds out his hand. "Thank you," he says almost too low to hear, and I know that this is probably the closest I've been, or will ever be, to Harmon Rabb.
I take his hand and neither of us moves. "You're welcome," I finally say, and we both let go.
I know he's watching me as I head to the door, but I don't look back. It's over. I have to let go.
The door shuts behind me without another word from him, and I stand there a moment. Maybe I should go back in, stay the night or at least a little longer. Then I hear something. I stand and listen. Yes. He's on the phone to Meg. I hear him laugh softly and say her name. He used to say my name like that.
He'll be just fine. I'm the one who's alone.
************
I get in my car and start driving, but I don't head home. It's not that late, not even midnight yet. When I get to where I'm going, I sit for a moment and think. Then I stop thinking and get out.
I only have to knock once.
"I was hoping you'd come," Clark says in a low voice. He's in a pair of jeans and an unbuttoned shirt and doesn't smile. I know that he's waiting to see what I'll do next. I walk past him and sit on the couch. I remember when he bought it. It was right after I bent him over the one he had before and the height was all wrong and he sucked me off instead. This one is just the right height, and I wonder if he brought a tape measure or just bent over couches until one felt right to him. I could ask him, but I haven't yet. I guess I'm afraid he'll give me the practical version, and I'd rather it be the hot one. Or that he'll lie and tell me what I want to hear. I still worry about Clark lying to me, although I don't think he has for a while.
"I thought I told you to go to sleep." I should be angry at him for not listening to me.
"I tried." He sits down next to me.
"I fucked him," I say abruptly. "Hard. Remind me to find a reason to go over there tomorrow."
"All right," he says simply. "Was he good?" He's not touching me, barely looking at me, and right now I don't like that. So I reach out and grab his arm, pull him against me. He lets out a small moan and lets me. "Was he, Clay?" he murmurs.
"You really want to know? What if he's better than you?" I want to hurt someone. And Clark's here.
"Is he? Should I go over and find a way to get Harm to fuck me? You did let him do that, didn't you?"
And now he's playing along, making it easy for me to get angry. "I said I fucked him, Palmer. Don't you listen?" I glare at him.
His eyes are half-closed. "I listen. I just don't believe you." His lips are on my neck now, and god, I'm getting hard. "Do you want to get fucked, Clay? Is that why you're here?"
"Clark," I say, helpless. He called Meg as soon as I was out the door. He was jealous of you. I stopped right in the middle to call you and almost left without fucking him. I don't want to be alone. I need someone to want me.
I can't say any of that to him. But I want to.
"I'll fuck you," he whispers. "I'll suck you off, I'll bend over and take it all night. Anything for you, Clay. I'll go over and kill Rabb if you want. Is that what you want, Clay? Rabb dead? Tell me. It won't take long. I'll go over there, get in, make it look like he died in his sleep, come back here."
I like the image but I don't want him dead. There's no coming back from dead. "No."
"What about that Meg, then?" he persists, and I shake my head.
"No killing. Do you understand?"
"He hurt you," he whispers. "He has to pay."
"Just...no." I can't explain it to him. In his world, it's that simple. And right now I am in his world. Our world. But I'm not going to have Harmon Rabb die because one night he put his hand against my cheek so that I'd change my mind and give him information about a case when I didn't want to.
He accepts it. "I can find someone to seduce her, make her think twice about him. I know at least one guy who'd love to."
"You?" I shoot back. His hand is moving slowly down the front of my shirt, unbuttoning it.
He laughs softly. "Only if you let me, Clay. I do what you say. You know that."
"You belong to me, then." I hear myself say that with absolute calm and control. I have never said that in my life. But it's true. I wait for him to tell me to fuck off.
He strokes his fingers over my crotch, which is interested. "I belong to you," he agrees, and god, it sounds so good to hear him say it. "So tell me what you want. I don't know yet."
"You figure it out." Something has really changed in me. It always does when I'm with him.
"Am I doing what you want now?"
I put my hand over his and press down into my hardness. "What do you think?"
He's looking at me now and smiling, face relaxed and intent at the same time, the face I only see when it's the two of us alone. "I think you want more. I think Harm wasn't enough for you. I think I need you to fuck me," and this voice is so rough and needy that I can't breathe again.
But this time it's because I know I'm wanted.
"Please fuck me, Clay." His eyes are glittering and he's kissing my neck again. "Show me how you fucked him."
"No," I say in a low voice and watch his face close. "I'm going to do a hell of a lot better than that. You can take more than he does; you're better than he ever could be." And it happens: that moment when his face opens and the joy that shows through, the joy that always amazes me, takes him over. I keep talking. I'll never be able to say this another time. "He wanted me to get it over with. He didn't want it."
"You made him want it though, didn't you? You're too good not to." He's breathing quickly, harshly, and my hands as they find his nipples, pinch them, make him moan. He loves that.
I found clamps on top of his dresser once and stared at them, but I didn't use them on him, and they haven't been there again. But he does ask me to make his nipples sore, begs me to, and then I get to see his face when the fabric of his shirt rubs them and makes them hurt again. His eyes always glitter then, and he's hard most of the day. It's all I can do not to push him against the wall of my office or his and take him. I know he'd let me. He lets me do anything. I finally answer him.
"Yes. He wanted it."
"He wanted you," he murmurs. "Harder, please. Yes." He writhes as I pinch the nubs. "God, Clay," his voice is so desperate, "oh, god."
"You want me, don't you, Clark?" I love making him beg. He does it so well.
"Yes, want you," he moans and lets his head fall back. I can see his throat, his unmarked throat. Am I going to leave it that way, or make him go into the Company with marks that everyone can see? People talk about him when that happens, talk to me about it, even. Ask me if I think Palmer's all right, if someone's getting too rough with him. They even talk to him, but he just tells them to fuck off. I've heard him. The only people he doesn't talk like that to are the secretaries. When they ask, he smiles and tells them that his lover is just...passionate. And that he doesn't mind everyone knowing how much she wants him. They all think he's wonderful. He could be dating half the Company's workforce if he wanted to. He doesn't. He's always here when I call, come over, if he's in town. And when he's out of town, he's usually with me.
He always finds a way to make it up to me that he uses the wrong pronoun. Lunch, a book I've wanted, or the look that tells me that he's so sorry he can't tell the whole world he's mine.
He is mine. And this isn't about that file any more. It hasn't been for a long time. I take my hands away from his body and stare at him. My god. It's not even remotely about that. I've been letting myself believe that it is, that I'm only sleeping with Clark because he makes me, and he's been playing along with that, but really, I'm with him because I want to be with him. I came here tonight because I wanted him. Because I want him. Because I need him.
I can't say the rest but I know it might be true. Love? Not yet. Maybe never.
Or maybe it's just another thing that I need to lie to myself about before I can accept it.
But there's something I have to do.
He licks his lips, then leans forward. "Clay," he says, his voice husky and rough. "What is it?"
"What did David say to you?" I have to know. Right now. I can't wait any longer, I don't want to hide any longer, I won't hide. I won't.
He blinks. "I did not just hear you say that you wanted me to tell you...? Yes, I did."
I show him how certain I am with my eyes.
He nods and closes his. "That he loved you. That it wasn't your fault. That I was a bastard." The last brings the ghost of a smile to his face.
"He didn't say any of that," I say very softly. I know Clark by now, and he's lying to me. Why did I never think of this before? I was so stupid and blind. At least I'm over that. "He shot himself in the head. He couldn't have said anything."
It's funny, how it doesn't hurt that same horrible way to say that now, to think that.
Maybe it won't ever hurt me so much again. But I'm going to go out to his grave tomorrow, leave flowers, say goodbye. Only this time I'm going to have a long talk with him, let him finally tell me himself that it wasn't my fault.
Because I do know that it wasn't. It wasn't even Clark's. He made his choices, just like I make mine. And sometimes those choices end up wrong, and sometimes they end up right, and we just have to live with them.
I'm ready to live again. And I'm going to start right now. Right here, in this room, with Clark.
"His eyes said that." His voice is just as soft as mine. "Clay, I know I've been giving you shit about this for months now, but can this wait?" He licks his lips. "I really want you to fuck me."
I laugh. Of course. I want to talk and he wants to fuck.
Well, yes, it can wait now. It can wait a long time. I have some other things I want, and I can have them.
"Tell me about buying this couch," I murmur and get down on the floor. His eyes widen as I undo his jeans, then tug them off. "I want to hear you talk while I suck you off. Slowly. I want to hear how your voice changes, what I can do to you."
"I need you to fuck me." His eyes are glowing, not glittering this time. He's happy, too.
"Later, Clark. I promise." I take the head of his cock into my mouth, then slide my mouth down to take in most of the shaft. I start sucking, then, when he just moans, I think about stopping but then he starts talking, and as I hear the roughness of his voice, I know that whatever he's going to tell me, it will be the truth.
The End