They're Having a Heat Wave
by Tinnean

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

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

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

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

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

And at other times.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Clay! I mean, Webb!"

"*Now*!"

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

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

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

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

"Come."

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

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

"Clay! Um, I can explain this?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"God, that was good, Clay!"

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

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

*I love you, Clay*.

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

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

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

~Fin~