Author: Gail
Fandom: JAG
Pairing: Clayton Webb/Clark Palmer
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Clayton Webb's side of Clark Palmer topping him in "Dark side of the moon", part 8 of the Eclipse series.
Archive: yes to Jagslash, Querstrich, RSA, CKOS, WWOMB. All others, please ask.
Email: gem225@hotmail.com
Series: Part 8b of the Eclipse series.
Web Page: The Unholy Trinity, at: http://www.fortunecity.de/lindenpark/vogelweide/216/main.htm
Disclaimer: They belong to DPB and CBS, neither of whom appreciate them properly in my humble opinion.
Since this is the other point of view of a scene from "Dark side of the moon", it might make sense to read that story before reading this one. In the story, this is told from Clark Palmer's point of view.
This was written for Alex, who really does love it when I take a scene and write it from another point of view, especially if that point of view is Clayton Webb's, and who beta'd this with a fine joy and her usual style. It goes out as well with happy smiles and thanks to Silk, Tinnean, Athea, Scarlet, and Page, all of whom are big Palmer and Webb fans.
Eclipse 8B_Doing it right
by Gail
*****
He sits down on the bed very casually. He's in charge. There's no doubt about that, and I want him there. I don't understand where this comes from in me, but he's the only person who's ever been able to make it safe for me to give up control this totally. He knows what I need.
"Come on, Clay, get the clothes off. I want to see how good you look."
I kick off my shoes, then take off my tie. He reaches out for it, and I hand it to him.
"Very nice, Clay." He runs it through his hands, and I know that he's thinking about using it on me, whether it's to tie my wrists or blindfold me. I think for a moment about telling him that I've got handcuffs in my room, but the thought of being that helpless is too much, and I keep quiet. "No," he says softly after a look at me. "Not this time. You're not ready yet. But you will be."
It makes me harder, hearing that he has plans for me. I know it's only part of the game, only something he says to get to me, but it's all right that he does. It makes sense. I have read about dominance and submission games. But reading about them isn't the same as playing them.
Playing them is much better, when it's with him.
I get out of one piece of clothing after another, hanging them in the closet. He just watches me. This is the hardest part of all, getting undressed for him. He never takes off anything until I'm naked, and having him lounge on the bed in those jeans and t-shirt, the scent of the leather jacket that he was wearing before coming off his skin, makes me want him so much. But I can't do anything until he tells me.
I stand in front of him and watch his eyes move over me. "Very nice," he says finally. "On your knees, Clay. I want that mouth of yours."
I get down on my knees as he undoes his zipper. "That's good," he murmurs as I lean forward and take the head in my mouth, not using my hands at all. "You remembered. Very good, Clay."
Last time we did this I reached up to hold his erection, but that wasn't what he wanted, and he told me so. Not cruelly; Clark's only been stupid and cruel once when we did this, and I've forgiven him for it, although it wasn't easy; but firmly. "No, Clay. Your hands stay at your sides, or behind your back. If I want you to use them, I'll tell you." Then he reached out and stroked my nipples until they were hard and I was gasping. "You like doing what I say," he said then. "So trust me to do it right." I didn't answer, but I knew he was right. I did trust him, had to trust him.
His hands on my head guide me into the right position, and soon I'm lost in it. He tastes so good, and he's hard, for me. Oh, god, it's so good to do this, so good not to have to worry about anything. Clark makes the decisions, makes sure I do this, do everything that way he wants it done, and he likes how I do things. I get damned criticism all the time, but not here. Never here.
After a while the muscles of my cheeks start to hurt, and I don't want to do this any more. He knows, just like he always does.
"Enough. Come on, Clay, I know you're good at more things than sucking, and I'm ready for one of them." I have my mouth off him by now, and I'm looking up at his flushed face. He loves this, I know it. He never asks for it, always waits until I'm in the mood, but he's always ready when I am. "Get up here and get ready to get fucked."
Oh, god, when he starts talking I'm lost. I can't help shivering as I climb up on the bed and get into position on my hands and knees, even though he hasn't told me to. He doesn't say anything, just starts touching me, his fingers on my cock, my balls, the crack of my ass, making me want him more. I want him inside me so much. I love when he fucks me. He does it so well. He makes it my whole world.
I know that I'm making some noise, but that's one thing Clark's never complained about. I hear a small sound that I think is him undoing the tube of K-Y that's there. I hope he doesn't ask about that. It would be embarrassing to have to admit that I come in here and masturbate, using the K- Y for the fingers that I work into my ass, thinking of him and these times. I really don't want to tell him that.
He doesn't say anything about it, and if he brings it up later, I can ignore him or cut him down with some well-chosen words. Now, I couldn't. I'd have to answer or stop the game, and I don't want to stop it.
His hands are warm between my legs as he strokes my thighs and spreads them. God, he's so good. He puts the lube on, warming it before he does, and all I can do is wait and want him. I want him so much. I can't let Harm do this. He would use it against me, use that I liked being fucked to get me to do other things, and if he knew that I liked being submissive...shit, he'd think he could take over all the damned time. Clark's never said a word except when we're alone here. He keeps it here. For someone I thought always played games, he certainly seems to know how to keep them in their place.
I gasp when his tongue licks all the way up my back. He's always surprising me. Then he pinches my nipples and I can't keep still any longer. I push back against him and feel the head of his cock slide into me. It hurts, but I push a little more and enough of the pain goes away.
He doesn't move. "Tell me you want this, or I'll stop."
Tell him? If he wants me to say that, of course I will. "I want you." I know my voice is barely there, but I think he heard me.
"Who am I, Clay?" His hands are hard on my hips, keeping me from moving. Does Clark think that I think he's Harm? Oh, god, no. But then how could he know?
I can say this, too. I know who's fucking me, who I want to be fucking me. "Clark." My voice breaks into a moan. "Clark."
"Good." His hand strokes my neck, and I lean into the soft touch. Then his other hand circles my cock, and I know that I'm going to get what I need now.
He is so damned good. I'm making noises that I never make any other time, but I don't care. Clark's fucking me, hitting my prostate and making me get so close, and I want him to keep going. And he will keep going, until each of us gets what he wants.
I count on him for that.
The End