Title: Sydney-side

Author: Gail

Pairing: A. J. Chegwidden/Clayton Webb

Rating: NC-17

Summary: What was happening in Australia for Chegwidden and Webb during Boomerang

Archive: yes to RareSlash, jagslash, Complete Kingdom of Slash, WWOMB. All others, please ask.

Sequel to Night at the admiral's

Disclaimer: CBS and Belisarius Productions own these characters, not me. I mean no harm and am making no money off this story.

Spoilers: Boomerang

This is for Greg, who came up with the idea and the title. How did I get lucky enough to find a husband who likes slash? And sees it before I do? Must have done something right. It's also for Tinn, who's back on the lists! Hurray!

This story was betaed by Mareen and Katja, who always find a way to tell me gently when I'm doing something wrong...and loudly when I've got it right. Biggest hugs and thanks to you both.

The dialogue in the last scene is taken from the episode.

AN ITALIAIN AFFAIR 3: SYDNEY-SIDE

By Gail

Admiral A. J. Chegwidden was standing for this call, taking a break from paperwork and an update on the Australia case at the same time.

"Oh, Admiral, we saw Clayton Webb today," Rabb's voice added unexpectedly. "Do you know what he's doing?"

"And why would I know that, Mr. Rabb?" He frowned. That was something he'd like to know himself. "If you're so curious, I suggest you ask him." That should take care of it.

"He didn't acknowledge us when we hailed him, sir."

"Then I suggest you leave it at that. Webb has his reasons."

He ended the call after a few more remarks and stood in thought. Clayton in Australia at the same time as his people. It had to be Company business, a coincidence. And it sounded like he was doing all right. When he was back in Washington, it would be good to have him over for dinner again, get an update.

He smiled suddenly. Strange how that trip to Rome had made them closer, in a way that he was comfortable with now. They were friends who took the time to listen to each other, and the sex had been firmly put behind them, although he knew from the look in Clayton's eyes sometimes that he still wanted it. Well, A. J. wanted it too, but he wasn't going to allow that kind of complication into his ordered life, and he knew that Clayton understood that it was risky for both of them. It was working out fine.

******************

This time A. J. was standing out of fury during the phone call. "They what?" he bit out. "No, I will be there as soon as possible. Thank you for informing me."

He cut the line and hit the buzzer for Tiner. "I need a flight to Sydney. Immediately."

Rabb. Again. Hitting a junior officer, and that officer Mr. Roberts. Irresponsible, idiotic, undisciplined, and totally unacceptable conduct. Damn him. Damn Brumby, too. Couldn't those two control themselves? He had a very strong feeling it had something to do with their long animosity. Had to. He wished that Sarah would just pick one of them...but then Rabb wasn't offering, as far as he could see. Sometimes he wondered just what the hell Rabb wanted, but then it wasn't his business.

He made himself sit down at his desk. There were things to be done before he could leave, and he was going to get them done. Then, his face twisted in a hard smile, he was going to give Rabb the worst hell he ever had. Ever.

******************

Clayton Webb had his arm firmly around the woman's waist, enjoying the scent of her perfume, and talking in a low and intimate voice in both German and code about the operation she was involved with. He caught a glimpse of Rabb and kept walking. He didn't need any kind of connection with them. He certainly didn't want it. Rabb would find a way to get him to help with this murder case, and he was trying to have a good time along with his work for a change. Let Rabb do his own work. He was doing his.

He listened to his contact's ideas about extending the coverage, disagreed with a smile meant to look like they were discussing something intimate, like dinner and what to do after it, and let himself wonder if there was any chance at all of A. J. coming down. It was possible, since the case was going to be tried in the highest Australian court, and more than likely with Rabb involved. He sighed. Rabb on the loose in Australia. He wished A. J. would hurry up and get there, before something really went wrong. Maybe he should call him...no. A. J. would not appreciate him trying to give advice about how to run JAG. And he was busy enough.

He smiled again as his contact made a very interesting suggestion, both in code and for real, and put part of his versatile mind to the problem of figuring out how much of the woman's behavior was real and how much feigned. If enough was real, he'd see about getting lucky in Australia. It wouldn't be the first time. At that thought, he remembered Rome and A. J. there and very deliberately put it out of his mind. It wasn't going to happen again. A. J. had made that very clear, and he wasn't going to do anything to jeopardize their friendship. Even though he still wanted him.

He decided that his contact was only faking the attraction, and resigned himself to another night alone. It could be worse.

He could be responsible for Harmon Rabb.

********************

A. J. sat down on his bed and let himself relax. The sight of Rabb and Brumby battered and bruised had been a comfort to his fury, but he was still furious at both of them, even though only one was under his command now. He let out another string of curses, then sighed and made himself get up. He needed water, a shower, and some kind of plan for the evening. He smiled as he realized that he could do just about anything. Due to the necessity to get government rates, Tiner had ended up booking him into an entirely different hotel from his officers, and it was a relief to know that he wasn't going to be running into them. He had turned down the polite dinner invitations, wanting to be on his own.

He groaned as the phone rang. Not another crisis. He considered not answering it, but that wasn't really an option. He knew his duty.

He made a long arm and grabbed it. "Chegwidden here," he said tersely.

"A. J." The sound of Clayton's voice surprised him. How had the other man known where he was? Of course. He almost laughed. He was dealing with a spy here, and it wasn't as though his location was a secret. "Enjoying your trip?"

"I'm not here for enjoyment, Webb," he said dryly, and heard the chuckle from the other end. Of course. Clayton must know exactly why he was here. "What about you, Clayton?"

"Some Company business. Nothing big, though. I got lucky with this assignment." He let out another chuckle. "There were agents lined up to get out of D. C. with the weather we've been having."

A. J. grinned. Yes.

"I was wondering if you'd have some time for a drink and a talk." Clayton's voice was suddenly careful. "It's been a while."

"I'm free tonight. What about dinner, too?" It would be good to catch up with the other man.

"Wish I could. But I've got to keep to my cover a little longer." Clayton sounded regretful. "I should be able to get over to your hotel by nine. The bar there's decent, I hear, and I'll buy the first round."

"Clay, you know you don't like talking in public." A. J.'s voice was suddenly gentle. "There's no need to push yourself."

He heard the other man's sigh. "Damn, A. J., I'm not a basket case." His voice was angry. "I just want to check in with you. Nothing's wrong. I'm fine."

"Maybe I'd rather talk in private, then," A. J. returned equitably. He was used to the other man's moods now. He came close, then shifted away. He was fairly sure it had to do with the realities of life in the CIA, never being sure of who to trust. Clayton would calm down after some talking.

"Want me to bring the scotch?"

"You just make sure you get here in one piece," A. J. ordered. "I've seen the scotch you buy."

"What, you don't like it?"

"It's wonderful. But it's wasted unless it's sipped with care and reverence, and that is not what you do," A. J. retorted.

"I do tend to gulp the first one," Clayton admitted. "But I can afford it, A. J."

"Bring the wine next time I make dinner." A. J.'s voice was firm.

"All right, A. J." Clayton's voice was amused. "If that's how you want to be. I'll see you later."

"Let me at least pretend you don't know this already, and tell you my room number?"

Clayton laughed this time. "Sorry. Please. I really don't know, actually."

"That I do not believe," A. J. retorted, to the other man's laugh. "It's 1525."

"Need a recommendation for dinner? I know some good restaurants."

"Thanks, but I'll find something."

"Enjoy yourself." Clayton ended the call, and A. J. put down the phone.

He'd take that shower and see what the concierge suggested. Clayton always had good recommendations, something he'd found out on other trips when he'd taken the time to ask before leaving, but he didn't feel like traveling halfway across the city for dinner. He'd do just fine with something simple and close.

*******************

Clayton nuzzled into his current contact's neck, making sure he looked properly enamored. All part of the act, he reminded himself, and enjoyed it nonetheless. She was very attractive, but clearly uninterested in him.

They got to the door of her room, and she smiled at him as she opened it. But as soon as they were inside, she was speaking rapidly and coolly.

"You can take your arm away now." He did so immediately, and stepped away. "All right, Webb. You get the couch; I get the bed. Don't get any ideas."

He gave her a genuine and amused smile. "Thank you for the offer, but I wasn't planning on sleeping here. I have an appointment, if you'll excuse me. If I do come back, it'll be late. I'll be quiet. And your virtue is safe with me," he couldn't resist adding dryly. It would have been good to have a warm and willing bed partner, but he'd be fine without one. A. J. would put him up. No problem, as long as he followed the rules. And he would. A. J. was too important a friend for him to take those kind of chances.

"Just make sure no one sees you leave," she cautioned him.

He bit back a comment and gave her a look. He had been an agent longer than she had. In another minute she smiled.

"Sorry."

"I need to change, if that's all right," he said mildly and went over to pick up the bag he'd left earlier with the hope that A. J. would have some time.

"Sure." She gestured to the bathroom. "Go ahead."

"Thanks."

He got in there and started stripping out of the suit. It was a light one, fine for summer in Australia, but he wanted to be a little less conspicuous, and more comfortable, for drinking with A. J.

A. J. here. He stared at his face in the mirror. He was going to spend some time with A. J. But he had to remember that this wasn't Rome. There was no chance of anything happening. No chance at all. He glanced down at his cock, which was half-hard. It thought there was one. Well, it had been wrong before. He made himself pull up his pants. He had to get going if he was going to meet A. J. on time.

********************

A. J. was setting out the glasses when he heard the knock. He let himself smile and go to the door. "Hi, Clayton."

Clayton smiled back. "Hi, A. J." He came in at the admiral's gesture. "Have a good dinner?"

"Not bad. Nice place." He opened the bottle and poured them each short shots. This wasn't about getting drunk; this was more of a tradition. Their talks always started with a drink, then usually went on to water. A. J. had worried at first about how much Clayton was drinking, then saw the other man cut down with relief. He'd thought about saying that he noticed, but then decided against it. Clayton needed a friend, not the feeling that everything he did was being watched. He probably got more than enough of that from the people he worked with.

"I saw Tim before I left," Clayton said casually, taking a sip of the scotch. He shook his head. "A. J., you really should have let me buy. This is barely passable."

"Just drink it, Clay," A. J. ordered, just to hear his friend laugh. "How is he?"

"Doing pretty well. He's back at work part-time."

"Yes, he told me," A. J. said quietly. "He's not thrilled about holding down a desk, but I told him he needed to show those kids how to do things right. He laughed."

Clayton smiled. "That is good to hear."

They sat in silence for a little while, then Clayton spoke.

"What brought you down here?"

A. J. gave him a long look. "You're telling me you don't know?"

"Just thought you'd like to tell me yourself," Clayton said solemnly, but his eyes were dancing. "So Rabb really hit Roberts?"

A. J. nodded, his jaw tightening. "So did Brumby. His jaw's broken."

A laugh escaped Clayton. "Poor Roberts. What a price to pay for his attempt to help. He's a good man. I wouldn't get between those two." He grinned at A. J. "I'd sell tickets."

A. J. laughed at that. "You'd be able to make some money, I'm sure."

"Don't worry; I'd never try to charge you," Clayton retorted. "So what did you do to Rabb? Throw him into the ocean with a stone tied to his neck? Not that I'm trying to tell you how to discipline your officers, mind you."

"Not the worst idea you've ever had, but mine was better. I had them fight in private until they were in just as bad a shape as they'd left Roberts."

Clayton almost spilled his drink at that. "Oh, perfect, A. J. Perfect." He was still laughing. "How bad was the damage?"

"They'll be able to argue their case, but they're going to be remembering this for a long time," A. J. said with satisfaction. "At least I hope Rabb will."

"I'm sure he will until he heals. After that..." Clayton gave him a half-smile. "I wouldn't bet on it. He's a good man, A. J., I'm not putting him down," he added quickly, before A. J. could think that he was insulting one of his officers, "but he does tend to act without thinking."

"That is not news to me, Webb. You should have been there the time he shot the gun in the courtroom." Clayton winced at that one. He'd heard the story, and there was a part of him that still didn't believe it. A. J. gave him a wry look. "Could we talk about something other than work?"

"Tried any new recipes?" Clayton had given A. J. one of his favorite cookbooks for Christmas, and was still trying to find out if the other man was using it for anything other than to decorate his kitchen.

"Too busy to do anything more than the minimum," A. J. admitted.

Clayton shook his head. "Next time, you should come to my place. I'll show you how it's done. Again," he added, giving the admiral a sly look. "Unless you're willing to let me try making a meal in your kitchen?"

"You're on," A. J. retorted with a gleam in his eyes, surprising Clayton. "But I pick the recipe."

"Hell, A. J., that's not part of the deal!"

A. J. laughed at the frown Clayton was giving him. "Take it or leave it, Clay," he teased. "I thought you were the one who could cook any time, anywhere."

"I never claimed that." Clayton was laughing now. "One condition. You get me the recipe two days in advance, give me a chance to look it over and get the materials. And the ingredients have to be ones I can find in a couple of trips to the store. No special orders. Deal?"

"Deal," A. J. agreed, his mouth still curved in a smile. Clayton reached out, and the two men shook hands. A. J. was about to let go when he saw a familiar look in Clayton's eyes, sad and lonely, and decided instead to give the other man the connection he needed. It felt good to him, too.

After a few moments, Clayton sighed and pulled his hand away. "Pitiful, aren't I?" The mocking tone that A. J. hated to hear was in his voice. He held out his glass. "More, please."

"Drinking isn't going to make it going away," A. J. tried, but Clayton's eyes hardened.

"I don't need a lecture, Admiral."

"No? Well, then, act like you know what you're doing, instead of reacting." A. J. was angry now. He was trying to help, and Clayton, after all this time, was still pushing him away.

It took a moment, but Clayton sighed. "Dammit, A. J., I don't want this."

"I know you don't."

"At least it's been a while since any nightmares." He gave the other man a wry smile. "That's something."

"It takes time. I'm sure your therapist tells you that."

"All the damned time." Clayton got up. "All right, water then. If I'm good, may I hope for another drink?"

"You can have another drink, Clay. I just don't like seeing you toss it down as though you're trying to drown your demons."

"Nice way to put it," Clayton muttered. "I'd better have the water. You ready for some?"

"Not yet."

Clayton went into the bathroom and filled his glass, then came back. "Anything new with you?"

"Nothing big. And you?"

"Had a date the other week." From the clinical note in his voice he might have been talking about the weather. "Nice woman. Really nice. I met her when I was picking up some books for the next trip. I have to make sure I have them ready. I never know when I'm going to have to leave."

A. J. waited, but Clayton said nothing more. "I'm to understand this went well?" he finally asked dryly.

Clayton's mouth twisted and he looked away. "Not really," he said in a low voice. "Oh, nothing went wrong, but nothing went right, either. She really was nice, too. I just...couldn't stop seeing Teresa's face, lying there dead with all those flowers around her. I got through dinner, then I took her home. Is this how it's going to be, A. J.?" He was looking at the admiral again, his eyes shiny with tears that A. J. knew he would not want to shed. "The rest of my life spent seeing Teresa Marcello every time I really look at a woman? Is that the price I pay for Tim's life, his freedom?"

"No." A. J. made sure his tone was firm and clear. "That will pass, Clay. It will."

"I wish it would, then. I hate seeing her. It brings it all back." He was quiet a moment. "I'm still glad she's dead. I hate that, too.

"Clay, stop being so hard on yourself. She chose her life, and you chose yours. You're not responsible for that."

"I pulled the trigger."

"Clayton." He used his command voice and stared at the other man. "Stop this. Now."

It took a moment for Clayton to react, but then he sighed and drank some water. "Thanks for the visit, A. J. I'm sure you're tired." He stood. "Keep an eye on Rabb. I'm sure he's going to manage to pull some trick during the trial. Wish I could watch."

That sounded like a goodbye. "Where the hell do you think you're going?" A. J. stood too. "You just got here."

"I'm not going to keep doing this to you, A. J. It's not fair. I've got somewhere to sleep, don't worry about that. I'll call when we're both back in Washington. I'll be better then."

A. J. reached out and took Clayton's near wrist with his fingers. "I say what's fair to me, Clay." Clayton tried to pull away, but A. J. tightened his grip. "Don't run away from this again." His voice was low and intense. "It's not right. Stay."

"This is stupid, A. J." Clayton's voice was angry now. "Let go of me."

A. J. didn't know why it was so important to him to keep Clayton there, but it was. "No." He yanked, pulling Clayton over against him. The other man's body felt as good as he remembered.

"Let me go, A. J." Clayton pulled, but A. J. wouldn't let go. "It's better that I leave."

"Clayton." A. J. only then realized what he was doing. Damn. He'd come to terms with this. Why was it so much harder here to say no to himself? He told himself to let Clayton go, but he didn't. He could feel himself harden. He had to stop this, but still he did nothing but keep his hold on Clayton's wrist. He didn't want him to go.

"A. J., what are you doing?"

A. J. twisted the other man's wrist behind him in a quick motion. Clayton let out a cry, then was quiet, although trembling. "Why are you doing this?"

"I asked first," Clayton gasped out. His face was pale and his lips tight, and A. J. knew that he was hurting his friend. "Let go of me, A. J." He finally managed to do that, and Clayton staggered back and sat heavily on the bed. "What do you want from me, A. J.?" His color was coming back. "I don't understand any more."

"I want you to stay here." It really was that simple, A. J. realized. "I need to know that you're safe. I'm sorry I hurt you."

Clayton stared at him for a long moment. "You need to know that *I'm* safe?"

"Yes." A. J. knew that his voice was harsh. "Are you going to do this for me or not?"

"I'm not going anywhere, A. J. Not if you need me." A. J. could see the sincerity in the other man's eyes, hear it in his voice. "I'll take this bed, all right?"

"All right." A. J. turned and went into the bathroom, staring at his reflection in the mirror. What the hell was he turning into? He cared about Clayton Webb, he wanted to help him, and he'd made up his mind a long time ago that there wasn't going to be any more sex between them. Why had he grabbed him, and why had that made him hard? He gave himself a hard look. *No more of that,* he ordered himself silently. *Keep your word.*

He ran cold water and washed his face in it, then came back out. Clayton was already in the other bed, his clothes laid over a chair. "It's been a long day." His voice was calm. "Hope it's all right that I'm ready for some sleep, A. J."

"Fine." A. J. hesitated, then switched off the light. He didn't want to have Clayton watching him while he undressed. "I am sorry, Clay." The shortened name slipped out.

"I know, A. J." There was a silence, and A. J. kept undressing. He managed to get all the way down to his shorts before the other man spoke again. "I still want you." The low voice was rough. "Please, A. J. Give me that. You don't have to do anything."

"I can't." He really couldn't. It was not an option. It couldn't be.

"You were hard before. I felt you." The voice continued, relentless. "I suppose I could wait and get into the bed with you and let you wake up hard in my mouth," A. J. bit back a groan at that thought and sank down on his bed, "but I'm not going to play games with you. Unless that's what you want. Is it, A. J.? Do you need me to make impossible for you to resist me? I can do that."

God. He wanted Clay so much. So damned much. But he wasn't going to do this. "Go to sleep, Clay." He got under the covers and pulled them over him.

"You didn't answer me, A. J." He really was relentless. "All right, though. If you won't answer me, I'm going to do what I want. Do you understand me? I'm going to get into that bed with you at some point and I'm not going to stop until I get what I want. And I want a lot. I want you."

"I don't want you, Clay." He had to say that. "So stay in your own bed."

"You *do* want me. And it's safe here, A. J."

"Do not come over here." A. J. hoped that would end it.

"Tell me to leave, then," the quiet reply came. "It's the only way."

"Go to sleep, Clay." He was not going to tell him to leave. He wanted him here. But sex between them was out of the question. What the hell did Clayton think he was doing? Trying to get him to send him away? Well, it wasn't going to happen.

"All right, A. J. Your choice."

A. J. made an angry noise, but decided not to say any more. Clay would go to sleep, and then it would be morning, and he'd realize how foolish he was being. It would work out fine. And if he did wake and come over...nothing would happen. A. J. would make sure of that.

He felt his cock harden at the thought of Clay's mouth. Damn.

He turned away and resolutely closed his eyes.

******************

Clayton woke and checked the clock. Good. Two am. Time to move in on his target. This was going too far, and he knew it, and he didn't give a damn. A. J. was being totally unreasonable. Since when did he get to make all the decisions?

*Since you let him,* a voice in his head mocked him. He hated that voice. *Looking for someone to take care of you, make it all better, aren't you, Clay? Well, guess what. A. J. Chegwidden doesn't really give a damn about who you are. He wants to get rid of the guilt he feels about you having to shoot that woman instead of him, of the relief he feels that you took care of that for him. Even the sex was because you surprised him. He would never have done it otherwise. Yes, he wants you, but in the way that he'd want anyone he knew could get him off.*

He swallowed. That voice always came back when he was with A. J., when A. J. made it clear in so many ways that sex was out of the question. It was easier to push it away back home, where he could see what it could do to A. J.'s career, where he was immersed in the ways of Washington and remembering all the eyes that might be on them, but here...here it was very compelling.

He remembered back a few hours to when he'd decided to make a move, to ask for what he wanted, and then to make it clear that he was ready to take it. A. J. hadn't taken him seriously, and dammit, he had to. It was clear to him, at least, that they couldn't go on like this. That he couldn't go on wanting A. J. and not getting more of him than friendship, at least not if A. J. was going to keep making him stay when he knew he had to go. Either A. J. had to change the rules so that they could have sex some times, or A. J. had to end it. He couldn't end it. He wanted A. J. too much, any way he could get him. He glanced over to the other bed again. And he could get him.

*Just take him,* the voice encouraged. *Make him admit, just once, that he wants this. Not you, we both know that's not true, but get him begging and moaning. Win, make him need it as much as you do. Who cares about him? Selfish bastard. He got what he wanted, then decided it wasn't, you weren't worth it.*

Clayton shook his head. It wasn't that simple, but he knew that to a part of him, it was.

*All right,* he thought. *A. J. let me stay, even though I told him what would happen. Which means he either isn't taking me seriously, which is a bad idea, because I made it clear I was serious, or because he wants it and just can't admit it. So, either way, I'm right to go ahead and do this.*

Not right. He did know that. But then right wasn't mattering any more. He stood, his tongue sweeping over his lips. *All right, A. J., my turn.*

He slid into the bed slowly, quietly, keeping his eyes on A. J.'s sleeping face. After tonight, he might not ever get to see it again, and that thought was almost enough to get him to stop. But it didn't. He'd felt A. J.'s hard-on, the grip the other man had on his wrist, the roughness in his voice when he asked Clayton to stay. A. J. wanted him. And A. J. was going to get him.

He blew out a long, slow breath, then bent his head to get A. J.'s nipple into his mouth. *Worked before,* he thought, and started sucking.

A. J. stirred and let out a low moan, and Clayton smiled, then moved over to the other nipple, positioning himself over the other man's body. Not much chance he could keep an ex-SEAL pinned, but he was going to try.

"What the hell?" he heard A. J.'s groggy voice say, and sucked even harder. "Clay, no."

He didn't answer with anything but what he'd been doing, and in a moment, there were harsh hands in his hair, pulling it. He fought, keeping his position as long as he could, until the pain got too much.

"Damn you, Webb," A. J. bit out when Clayton finally lifted his head. His face was flushed, though, Clayton thought with some smugness, and he'd felt that erection again. A. J. had liked it. "I told you no."

"And I told you what I was going to do. And I'm doing it. Lie back down and stop fighting yourself, A. J. I am going to get what I want." At least that damned voice wasn't nagging him, too.

"You are not getting anything."

Clayton ignored the fact that A. J. still had him by the hair and reached down to take out A. J.'s hard cock. "I've got this." He started pumping it, and A. J. let out another moan. "That's right, just let it happen."

"You bastard," A. J. muttered.

"Because I'm pushing you? Fine. You can hate me later. Shut up and enjoy it."

That was definitely the wrong thing to say, because the next thing Clayton knew A. J. Chegwidden had him pinned beneath him on the bed. "Don't give me orders, Webb," he growled. "You want this? All right, if it means that much to you, I'll give it to you. Why not? I want it too." A. J.'s hands were all over him, and his eyes were burning. "You want to come now? You want me to get you off?"

Everything had changed, and Clay couldn't get free. Didn't want to. A. J. wanted him, A. J. had his hands on him, and A. J. was there with him, at last, in a place where nothing mattered but getting what they both wanted.

"Do what you want, A. J., but do something," he moaned back.

"You're really asking for it," A. J. growled back, and Clayton felt a touch of fear. This was not the man he knew. "Pulling this kind of stunt." His fingers fastened on Clayton's nipples and tugged, and Clayton arched up. "You trying to ruin everything, Clay? Is that it?"

"No." It was hard to talk. "I just want you. Want you so much."

"You've got me," A. J. assured him. "But you ever try this again, and I'll have your ass for it."

Clayton couldn't help laughing at that, even through his moans. A. J. was still squeezing his nipples, driving him crazy. "You want my ass, A. J.? You can have it. Go ahead."

A. J.'s laugh was rough. "Not interested, Clay."

"Too bad. I'd like it."

"You'll do fine with what you get."

And A. J.'s mouth was down at his neck, his hands roughly sliding down his body, and oh, yes, he'd do just fine with this. He could move now, and he did, touching A. J. everywhere he could reach. A. J.'s breath hissed out, and Clayton got his hand around the other man's cock, pumping it again. He felt A. J.'s hand come around his shaft at almost the same moment. Yes. Just like this, together. No waiting, he'd waited too long and so had his friend, and no more. No more.

A. J. knew what he was doing, he knew how to work A. J., and they were moaning together, bumping against each other's fingers, then cocks, and then A. J.'s hips jerked and he could feel the come hot on his skin, then it was his turn to groan and have A. J. finish him off, squeezing until he shuddered and pulled away.

A. J. sank down on the bed beside him. "You really wanted it."

"You did, too, A. J." He wasn't going to let him off at all.

The other man was silent. "Yes, I did." More quiet. "It's not something I want to want, Clay. Not your fault, though. Me."

"I know this is all I can have," Clayton said very simply, then A. J.'s face was back up and glaring into his.

"Mister, I am not your only option. Remember that."

Clayton found himself chuckling at A. J.'s fierceness. "I know, A. J." He sobered. "But you are right now."

"No." A. J.'s voice was rough. "Clay, don't do this. To me, or to yourself."

Clayton sat up. "I'm going back to my bed, A. J. Don't worry. No more attacks."

Before he could move, his wrist was grabbed again. "You are my friend." The words were spaced and certain. "I want you. Now," he was yanked down onto the mattress and held there by strong arms, "my friend does not leave my bed right after we've made love. Got it?"

Clayton's mind was whirling, but one thing was very clear. A. J. wasn't running from this any more. "Got it." He found that his head was right in the hollow of A. J.'s shoulder, and it didn't take much to get comfortable. "Domineering," he muttered.

"Get used to it, Clay. You're sleeping here every night until one of us leaves."

Clayton choked back a laugh. "And if I don't come back?"

"Do you want to find out what would happen if you don't?" the deceptively mild voice came back.

This time Clayton couldn't help laughing. This was insane, this was out of control, and this was perfect. "No, A. J. I'm not dumb enough to mess with a SEAL."

"Good," the rumble came back. "Now I've got to be in court in the morning to watch Rabb and Brumby present their cases. Go to sleep."

Clayton let his eyes close. He was supposed to go back as soon as he finished making the contacts, and the last scheduled one was tomorrow, but he'd take a day or so leave and wait until A. J. left. He could do that. He was going to enjoy this. It was probably the last time. But it looked like it was going to be a good one.

He wondered if A. J. would let him buy dinner, just this once. Too bad it wasn't opera season. Taking A. J. to the Sydney Opera House would have been perfect.

******************

A. J. stood with Rabb and Roberts in the airport lounge, waiting for the bastard Lee to show up, and Mac, as well. And then he saw Clayton, cool in a beige suit, his sunglasses in his hand, coming over to him. He didn't look at him directly. It would be too much.

"Gentlemen. What happened to you two?" Webb's voice was perfect, absolutely betraying no knowledge whatsoever.

"Never mind that, Webb," Rabb snapped back, "what the hell have you been doing down here, anyway?"

"Sorry. Can't say. But thanks for not busting my cover." Clayton was perfectly cool.

A. J. held back a smile. Disinformation. Something Clayton seemed to be very good at. He could see that Rabb and Roberts thought they'd gotten an answer. Well, Webb did that to people a lot. Not to him.

An announcement came over the speaker for first class passengers to board.

"That's me. I'll see you on board." And Clayton, with barely a look, was off to join two Oriental women who were smiling at him.

A. J. held in his smile. Clayton was going to be all right, and they were all right. "First class?" he asked mildly, wanting to be part of the encounter. It wasn't like him to be this quiet.

He was looking forward to the next time he saw Clay. It was going to be interesting, keeping their friendship going and handling the attraction right out in the open. He couldn't keep denying it, but he also couldn't keep giving in to it. He had the feeling that if he was honest with Clay, Clay would respect his limits. And he was going to be honest now, both with Clay and with himself, about what he wanted. Clay meant too much to him to risk their friendship. Whether or not that meant they ended up in bed together, he wasn't sure. That would have to be worked out between the two of them. And they would.

He was glad he'd come to Australia. Very glad. And very, very satisfied.

The End