Mission: Jaws of the Jaguar, Part 21

Fox ran a finger experimentally across the thin, jagged scar that ran across his right shoulder. "This is so weird. I've got other scars..."

"I know." Ethan caressed his flank. Fox was shirtless, examining himself in the mirror hung on the closet door.

"Stop it." Fox swatted at Ethan's hand without any real conviction. "But this feels REAL."

"Looks real." Ethan ran his hand over it. Then, with an impish grin, he leaned over and ran his tongue along it. Fox shivered. The appliance was so thin that scarcely any sensation was lost. "But it tastes..." Ethan did it again, and smacked his lips thoughtfully. "I'm afraid it TASTES like... chicken."

Fox shoved him. "I thought I WAS chicken."

"Rooster, maybe."

Fox looked at himself in the mirror again. "We're really going to do this, aren't we?"

Ethan rubbed his chin on Fox's shoulder. "Yes, we are. One more detail, then a test. We leave day after tomorrow for England."

"England? Not Columbia?"

"We go to Columbia from England. Our other selves are there now. I spoke with our operative yesterday."

"That tone of voice is ominous. What did he say?"

"It's been decided that one final test is needed to see if we can pass. They want us to take out our opposite numbers."

"Take out?" Fox's voice was alarmed. "Look, I TOLD you..."

"Relax, lover." Ethan nuzzled the side of his neck in a move that was calculated to soothe the FBI agent. It helped that Ethan enjoyed it, too. "In this case, 'take out' means we put the snatch on them. Neutralize them so other agents can whisk them away. Then the next morning, Connor Galbraith and Daniel Ballard check out of their London hotel, and fly to South America for their little business venture.

Fox blew out a breath. "This keeps getting more complicated."

"Life is like that."

"What's the detail we haven't taken care of? I mean, I dress like Daniel..." He thickened his accent to a drawl, "I talk like Daniel. I have his hair, his contacts, even his scar. What's left?"

"You don't have his fingerprints."

Fox was silent for a moment. "If there's one thing I've learned working for the FBI, it's that no two people in history have had the same fingerprints, not even identical twins. Close, but not the same. If clones were a posibility..." He checked himself. Later Ethan wondered about this, and made a mental note to ask him about it when things cooled down. "Even clones don't have the same fingerprints."

"Granted we can't permanently alter anyone's loops and whorls, but we CAN do temporary."

Ethan opened the box that had been sitting in the mailbox that morning, and extracted what looked like two extra large watercolor boxes. When he opened one, though, the long row of little cakes were all a uniform putty color. "Look at those."

Mulder peered closely. The surfaces of the disks were not smooth. There were faint ridges: ridges that formed the generically familiar loops and whirls of fingerprints. "These are yours, those are mine."

"Pardon my saying so, but what the fuck do we DO with them?"

"Patience. Sit down. You'll need to be steady for a minute or so." Fox sat at the table. Ethan took up another unlabled aerosol can, shaking it. "Hold out your hands, fingers spread as wide as you can, palm up." Fox obeyed. "This is going to be cold, and I'll have to work quickly once it's on you. I'm going to press each of your fingers on one of those disks. Don't roll them off, like fingerprinting. Don't move them at all till I tell you to, okay? These are kind of fragile, and we only get one chance. We might not NEED the right fingerprints, but I believe in belt AND suspenders."

"Liar. You have no problem at all with pants falling down." Ethan smirked, and sprayed Mulder's hands. He hadn't been lying: it was cold as hell.

The stuff felt rather thick: clingy. Ethan put down the can, took hold of Mulder's hands, and quickly and firmly pressed each fingertip onto a seperate disk. "Hold it."

"You said that already." Fox waited patiently, while Hunt watched the sweep hand on the clock.

"Alright. Pick them up GENTLY, pulling up from back toward tip." Fox did so. "Show me your hands."

Ethan took Mulder's hand in his own, examining them. "Worked."

Fox stared at his fingers, perplexed, and flexed them. "Did that stuff absorb into my skin? I can't feel it."

"No, it's there."

"I can't see it, either."

"Trust me. To anyone who dusts an object you've touched from now till we remove that, you ARE Daniel Ballard. Now..." He shoved the can at Mulder and held out his own hands, palms up and fingers spread. "Do me."

Mulder shook the can and said, expression very serious, "You know, Hunt, there are a lot of ways to interpret those two words."

Ethan bit his lip, struggling against the grin that wanted to break out. "With the can, you horny bastard."

Mulder's eyebrows rose. "I'd think that would hurt."

Ethan gave up the fight and laughed.

As he sprayed the stuff on Ethan's hands, Fox murmured, "It's because they don't trust me, isn't it?"

Ethan hesitated, but he couldn't let the substance dry before he applied his fingers to the templates. He carefully fitted them in place, then said slowly, "You're an unknown quantity to them, Mulder. A lot is riding on this, and they want to be sure." Fox grunted. Ethan gave him a level stare. "I trust you. I'm the one who's going in there with you watching my butt."

"And I KNOW you'll be watching MY butt, so we have sort of a mutual ass-watching society." His tone was flip, but Ethan could see in his eyes that he was still troubled.

"I don't like this either. I'm feeling schizophrenic enough as it is, just knowing there's someone out there who resembles me so closely. And now, practically living as him..." Fox ran down, not really sure how to express what he was feeling. For the last few days, they had been LIVING as Ballard and Galbraith. They presented themselves as Danny and Connor whenever they left the apartment.

In the apartment, they continued the charade. If Fox slipped and called Ethan by his real name, he was ignored till he corrected himself. It didn't happen often, and hadn't happened at all for a while.

But it was getting to Mulder. Especially when Ethan called him 'Danny' while they were making love. He somehow felt like he was cheating another man out of an orgasm.

Ethan saw that Mulder wasn't just whining; he was truly upset about this. That bothered Hunt. He genuinely cared about Mulder now, and he was on the point of bringing him into a volatile situation, where his life would, without a doubt, be at risk. He would be using his lover, no matter how nicely the idea was packaged in patriotism and duty. Ethan hated that like poison, but he didn't see any way around it. All he could do was try to reassure Mulder that he wasn't subsumed into the role he was being asked to play. He had to let him know that he was valued as himself. He thought he knew a way that might help, at least a little. And even if it didn't, they would both enjoy the hell out of it.

He carefully pried his fingers up from the templates and checked the surface of the pads for tearing or distortion. Perfect. He flexed his fingers, and gave Mulder a lecherous smile, "Hey, Mulder, how about we put Galbraith's and Ballard's fingerprints all over each other?"

Mulder answered the smile, but his effort was a little faint. "How many times have I turned you down, Hunt? What did you have in mind?"

"Well, like the Monty Python boys say, 'something completely different'." He was pulling Mulder into the bedroom.

"You're scaring me." He said dryly. "I'll ask again: What do you have in mind?"

Hunt was unbuttoning Mulder's shirt. "Something that Connor and Daniel have probably never done."

"Oh, man, you're REALLY scaring me now." Ethan was pulling Mulder's shirt tail out of his pants. Mulder was pretty sure by now that if it didn't involve the dead, bodily wastes, or farm animals, he would do whatever Ethan wanted. "I want to know what you're thinking of before this goes any farther."

"I'm thinking," Ethan kissed him deeply, working his tongue hungrily in Mulder's mouth for a moment. "That I want you to top me this time."

Mulder's mouth dropped open in astonishment. Never one to miss an opportunity, Ethan kissed him again. His eyes were a little wary. Testing, he said, "Is that what you really want, Con?"

Ethan jerked off his own T-shirt, exposing nipples that were already hard. "Fuck what Connor wants. This is what _I_ want! And don't you dare be Danny when we do this, Mulder. It's you I want in my ass, not him."

As Ethan had hoped, desire flared in Mulder's eyes, the gold of the hazel seeming to darken as his pupils dilated. Mulder pushed him back on the bed, falling on top of him. Ethan quickly spread his legs, then hooked his ankles up being Mulder's back "Yeah, like this. I want to look you in the face when you come inside me." He arched his pelvis up, gringind an already respectable erection agains Fox.

"Oh, damn!" Mulder gasped. "Christ, Hunt, you keep doin' that and I won't MAKE it inside you before I come."

"What do I care? I'll just suck you till you get it up again."

The raunchy talk had the desired effect. Fox ripped at his and Ethan's clothes almost frantically, swearing when he had difficulty with the fastenings. Ethan kept talking. "That's right, Mulder. Fast and hot. I won't need much to get ready, and I want you to RIDE me, you hear? I'm not a virgin, you don't have to worry about breaking me."

Fox was reaching behind himself to jerk off Hunt's shoes. Ethan twisted and managed to reach the night stand, driving the bulge of his fly up against Mulder's and making him moan. Ethan clawed out a condom and the tube of lubricant, dropping them on the mattress.

"Ethan, unhook your fucking legs so I can get your pant's off you!" Hunt laughed and pulled his knees up, letting Fox skin off his pants and underwear. Mulder almost fell off the bed removing his own pants, earning another snicker. "Oh, you're gonna PAY for that, Hunt!"

"I can only hope." Ethan grabbed Mulder's hand and coated his fingers with gel, then bent and spread his legs again, grabbing his knees. "Do me."

Mulder was as hard as a rock already. His hand shook a little as he smoothed the excess lubricant down Ethan's crease, then returned to circle around his ass hole. Ethan bit his lip as Fox circled the little pucker, then slowly pushed one finger in. Fox didn't hesitate, pushing in a second finger almost immediately and scissoring them. He was taking Hunt at his word, and Ethan was loving it.

Mulder pumped his hand, asking, "Want me to try to get your prostate?"

"Shit, I love ya, but that's a fucking dumb question, Mulder."

"Yeah?" Mulder pushed hard, crooking his fingers and rubbing across the little bump. Ethan spasmed, yelping with pleasure. "How dumb is that?"

"That's fucking GENIUS! Do it again!"

"Greedy."

"Fuck, yeah. I forgot how damn GOOD this was." Mulder stroked again, and again, massaging the gland till Ethan was jerking helplessly, whimpering. Unable to wait any longer, Mulder took his hand away to put on the condom. "Christ, Mulder!" Ethan wailed. "Hurry up!"

Mulder slipped on the rubber, moved up to Ethan, and slammed into him with one hard, long stroke. Ethan threw back his head, screaming in pleasure, and Fox almost came right then, but he managed to reach down and grab the base of his cock, pinching off any chance the sperm had to exit.

He just stayed there, sweating and holding himself while Ethan bucked against him. It was amazing. If he wanted to, all he'd have to do was just STAY there, Ethan would fuck HIMSELF on Mulder's embedded prick.

But Mulder wasn't about to do that, not now that he was the active partner. He finally grabbed Hunt's waist, pushing him back against the mattress. "Hunt, be still for a minute!"

Ethan bared his teeth, and hissed, "Then FUCK ME, damn it!"

Mulder had no problem with that. He began to drive into Hunt in a hard, fast rhythm. He wasn't trying to be gentle, though he hoped he might do this with a little tenderness some time in the future. Right now, this was what they both wanted: raw, primative sex.

Groaning in time to his lover's thrusts, Ethan reached down and stroked his own dripping cock with one hand. With the other he reached behind Mulder, feeling for his crack. "Get your hand away from my ass unless you're just gonna hang on, Hunt," Mulder growled. "Not this time. This time I top all the way."

"Yes SIR!" Ethan gasped, instead adding the second hand to the very pleasant task of jerking off while Mulder rammed into him.

Mulder came first, eyes squeezed shut as he unloaded into the condom, wishing he had met Ethan Hunt before the whole AIDs thing, when any thing you might pick up could be treated, and unprotected sex wasn't necessarily Russian roulette with more filled chambers than empty ones.

He pushed Ethan's hands away, and finished masturbating him, stroking him to completion and enjoying the added squeeze around his softening cock when Hunt's internal muscles milked him.

Finally they lay beside each other again, both sweaty and breathless. Ethan moaned, rubbing his face on Mulder's shoulder. "My ass aches, but in a GOOD way."

"Yeah, well, you asked for it, slut."

Hunt bit one of Mulder's still erect nipples. "You're so damn butch."

Fox didn't think he had enough strength or energy left to laugh, but somehow he managed.

---

Mission: Jaws of the Jaguar, Part 22

"You're sulking again, Danny."

"No, I'm not."

"Oh, I grant ya that someone who doesn't know ya might not be able to tell, since ya look sulky even when you're in the best of moods. But you can't shite me, Danny boy. I know you, inside and out. What is it?"

Daniel closed his suitcase and moved it to the floor. "Well, Connor, what is it USUALLY these days?"

"We've been over this a hundred times, Danny."

"And we'll be over it a hundred more. You know how I feel."

"And ya knew what I was when ya left Yarborough. I may not have told you straight out till after we got to Dublin, but ya knew."

"Yes, I knew. And it didn't matter. But Connor, DRUGS."

Danny sighed and sat on the edge of the bed in their hotel room, rubbing his face. Connor sat beside him, touching his shoulder. "Sweetheart, I don't put a gun to anyone's head and force them to take the shite, do I? I'm just a business man. I don't even make it, I just move it."

"Con, it's ILLEGAL. I wouldn't really mind it all that much if it wasn't for the whopping great prison term you could rack up if they catch you. And they don't have conjugal visits for same sex couples, to the best of my knowledge."

"Conservative repressed priggish bastards."

Daniel smiled faintly. "Yes, that DOES cover most politicians. But it doesn't change facts. And it's DANGEROUS, Con. People die, all the time. And other people get left alone." His voice was small.

Connor hugged him. One way he was like Ethan, he knew that physical contact was a good way to soothe his lover when he was upset. "Put that out of your head, Danny boy. It won't happen."

"You can't promise me that, Connor," he said bleakly. "This man we're going to see, Montana? He's killed people."

Connor chided him. "Danny, have you been listenin' to gossip again? You know it upsets you. I wish you wouldn't..."

"Sometimes gossip ISN'T an exaggeration, Con. It can't all be just rumors. People DISAPPEAR around him, all the time. And you're going to be just... just walking into the JAWS of that animal with your head up and your eyes open."

"Nothin' will happen, darlin', because HE'S a business man, too, and he needs what I can give him."

Danny turned toward him, gripping Connor's collar pleadingly. "Please, Con. Let's not go. You don't have to do this, you're doing fine with your legitimate concerns. In just a few months, we could have you totally legal; I've shown you how it could be done. You could be completely clean."

"And have our income reduced by more than half, Danny."

Danny pushed him violently, standing up. "FUCK the income! Connor Galbraith, after all this time, do you think THAT'S why I stay with you? I could be with someone who'd give me twice as much as you do, if I wanted. I could go back to peddling my ass and pull down a half million in cash and perks a year. That sheik we met at the party last month offered me a Rolls Royce, a fifteen room mansion in his country, a court position, and a fucking TITLE if I'd leave you."

Connor's green eyes narrowed dangerously. "He did, did he? He's damn lucky he's gone back to that sand trap he calls home."

"CON!" Daniel stamped his foot. "The point I'm trying to make is that I don't CARE about the money and the things. I used to, back when I was young and stupid, but meeting you showed me what's really important. You and me, that's all that matters, and I am so afraid that you're going to get yourself killed." He was almost crying.

"Darlin'." Connor stood up, going to take Daniel in his arms. Daniel tried to twist away from him, but Connor was persistent, and gentle. He soon had the taller man in a firm embrace, stroking his back and kissing his face, cheeks, forehead, eyes.

Daniel gradually stopped his half-hearted struggling, letting his head drop onto his lover's shoulders. "Please, Con. Please stop."

"I thought you liked my kisses, Danny," he teased. Daniel slapped at him weakly, and he relented. "Soon, m'love. Soon. Just a few more years, maybe no more than two, and I can retire."

Daniel heaved a hopeless sigh. "You could retire now. But you won't. And I used to think I was stubborn. I don't hold a candle to you, you hard-headed Mick."

"Watch that luscious mouth, you Maryland cracker," Connor joked.

"I should leave you," Daniel said sadly.

Connor froze. His voice was tense, almost frightened. "Danny. Danny, don't say that. Please, boyo. You know what that does to me."

Not picking his face up from where it nestled against Connor's throat, Daniel raised a hand and tenderly stroked his cheek. "I don't mean it, love. You know that. I could never leave you, Connor. You're my life."

Connor wilted a little in relief. There had only been one or two times in their relationship that Danny had threatened to leave him. That time he tried to push Danny into a threesome with a girl had been the worst. God, was THAT ever a mistake!

He hadn't even really WANTED the bitch. He'd just been curious as to what it would be like. Danny had been furious at the suggestion. Connor hadn't had enough sense to realize how serious he was, and had gone out for a drink with the twist anyway, to punish his lover.

He'd returned to find a taxi at his door and a white face Daniel with one suitcase packed, stuffing clothes into a second. Connor had chased off the cabbie with threats and curses. When Daniel tried to walk out anyway, he'd literally gone down on his knees and begged, without shame, to be given another chance.

He almost lost him. But when Daniel saw the tears on his face, he'd melted. They'd ended up sitting on the floor, holding each other, and talking all night. "I know it doesn't make sense, Con," Daniel had whispered, wrapped tight in his arms. "But somehow it's different. I can handle seeing you with another man, as long as I'm involved, too. But with a woman... I have nothing against them, though they're not to my taste, but it just feels like a betrayal. A rejection of everything I am. You KNEW how I felt, and you went anyway..."

Connor had stopped his words with a kiss. "Never again, Danny. Christ, love, you've taught me well. I can take anything but losing you."

He want to go, seeing how it upset Danny, but the meeting was already set up. Montana would not be pleased if Connor tried to blow him off at this late date. He explained this to Daniel. "So ya see, love, we HAVE to go this time. I'll try to make it the last, I swear. Once the deal is in place and runnin' smooth, I'll be able to sell the operation for a mint. Then I'll spend the rest of me life just worshipin' that delectable body of yours."

"You do that, anyway." Daniel said archly, but he smiled. He kissed Connor on the corner of the mouth. "We're fools for each other, you know that, don't you?"

"Aye, love. 'Tis a bright, mad thing, this love of ours, and I thank God for the madness."

"Oh," Daniel pushed him away playfully. "You were mad a long time before I met you." He picked up a tiny pair of red trunks and a robe from the bed. "Well, I want a swim before I turn in. If I'm good and relaxed, I can sleep on the flight over."

"You do that. Then come back here and I'll relax ya PROPER."

Daniel laughed. "Nasty man." He kissed his lover again. "Love you, Con."

"Love you, Danny."

Daniel walked downstairs, avoiding the elevator. He needed to be just that much more diligent in exercise these days, now that he was approaching thirty. He didn't intend to get pudgy, like some of the fabulously good looking 'companions' he'd known. Connor wouldn't leave him if he put on a pound or two, he knew that. In fact, his lover often tried to tease him into eating a little more 'so I'll have a bit to cuddle when the nights get cold.' But Connor deserved the best, and Daniel was determined to give it to him. That was the real reason he was going for this swim.

An attendant was just getting ready to lock the door to the pool when Daniel arrived. "Wait, please!"

"Sorry, sir. Ten o'clock."

"Oh, come on! Just a half hour?" The man frowned. Daniel pulled a five pound note out of his pocket and wiggled it enticing. "Twenty minutes?"

The note disappeared into the man's shirt. "G'wan, then. You can have the half hour, but no more."

"Thank you!" Danny hurried into the deserted locker room and quickly started stripping. He'd have to hurry if he wanted to get any benefit at all out of the exercise.

He was just laying his pants across the bench when the door opened, and Connor came in. He could feel the happiness bubbling up inside. He hadn't expected Connor to join him. Maybe he was remembering the few times they'd made love in a pool, and wanted to experience it again. "Con, I thought you were going to wait for me."

Connor came to him, cocking his head, with that roguish look Daniel loved so much. "Couldn't wait, darlin'. Ya know how I hate to be away from ya."

"Well, I hope you're not going to be this impatient ALL night," he teased.

"Oh, no, love. You know me." Connor caressed his cheek, and Daniel leaned into the familiar touch, eyes half shutting. "I can be just as patient as ya want, as long as ya want."

Smiling, Daniel took Connor's face in his hands, and kissed him deeply. But as his tongue sought out the sweet depths he knew so well, a cool prickle washed over him. Something wasn't right. He... tasted wrong.

Daniel pulled back, looking at him sharply. Same green eyes, same crooked smile, same impossibly handsome, dear face, but still...

"What's wrong, darlin'?"

There was something missing. There was no love in the depths of those green eyes. "You... you're not..."

"Sorry, Danny." The beautiful Irish lilt was gone, and the eyes were hard. Danny knew Connor was capable of such a look, but it had never been directed at him. At the moment he realized that the man he had just kissed was NOT his lover, he felt a sting on his buttock. He stumbled back, rubbing at it, staring at the man in astonishment.

"I'm sorry about this, Danny." Ethan recapped the tiny syringe and returned it to his pocket. "Don't worry, you won't be harmed. You're just going on a little retreat for a week or two, and Connor will be there to keep you company."

"No..." Daniel whispered. "Not Con! You leave him alone!" He suddenly felt dizzy. He would have fallen, but the stranger wearing Con's face caught him and eased him down onto the bench. Daniel clutched at his arm with all his waning strength. "Please, I'll do anything you say. I don't know what you want, but don't hurt Con!"

"Relax, Danny."

The other man slumped on the bench, eyes beginning to flutter closed. He looked so much like Fox that it tore at Ethan's heart to see him so helpless and vulnerable. He reminded himself that this was the paid whore of a drug dealer, but somehow the familiar epithet didn't ring true. Not after he'd witnessed how Daniel thought first of his lover, even when it seemed that his own life was in danger.

Ethan couldn't resist stroking the fine brown hair back from his forehead. Then he shook his head, and called. "Come!"

Fox and the attendant entered immediately. Mulder came to stare down at the man on the bench. "It's uncanny. I feel like I'm having an out-of-body experience."

"We can't waste time. Get into his clothes."

While Fox started to strip, the 'hotel worker' rolled a large laundry cart close to the bench. Together he and Ethan lifted Daniel's unconscious body into the cart, and arranged linens over him. Ethan made particularly sure that he had breathing space.

"Is he going to be all right?"

Ethan looked at his lover. Fox had been listening to the exchange outside the door, and he knew how Daniel had reacted. "He should be. We were very careful about checking his records for possible bad reactions, and his weight for the right dosage. He should just sleep deeply, and wake up in about eight hours. He might have a little headache, but that should be all."

"I just don't want him hurt."

"Neither do we, Mulder." Mulder was finishing buttoning up Daniel's shirt. Now he toed off his own loafers and slipped into Daniel's lace-ups, tying them. When he stood up, he shivered violently. "What is it?" Ethan asked, concerned.

Fox's hazel eyes were a little haunted when he turned them on Ethan. "I just realized. If I died right now, they'd identify me as Daniel Ballard. Same looks, same scars, same fingerprints, all his papers. I... I'm not myself anymore."

Ethan grabbed him and kissed him, hard. "You're Fox Mulder, a damn good FBI agent, going undercover. Don't forget that, Mulder. Don't lose yourself so far in the role that you can't come back to me when it's over. Now go on." He pushed Fox toward the door.

Fox stood for a moment, head down, thinking. *He said 'come back to me when it's over.' Oh, God. What if he means it?* Fox lifted his head. When he left the locker room, he was moving with the languid grace that characterized almost everything Daniel Ballard did.

---

Mission: Jaws of the Jaguar, Part 23

Outside Daniel's hotel room, Fox paused and checked his pocket. The tiny disposable syringe of drugs was there. A hotel key wasn't. *Fuck! He came out without his key?* Fox had been hoping to slip in quietly, and possibly give Connor the jab before he was fully aware that he was there. No chance of that now.

He was about to knock on the door when Ethan sprinted around the corner, waving at him frantically. Wordlessly, he pushed Daniel's robe and trunks into Fox's arms. Fox winced, looking at Ethan in anxious apology. Ethan shook his head, indicating that HE had almost forgotten them, too. He gave Mulder's shoulder an encouraging squeeze, and dashed back around the corner. Fox knew that the 'attendant' would be there, near the service elevator, with the cart containing a peacefully sleeping Daniel Ballard.

Taking a deep breath, he knocked on the door. There was a shuffling inside, and an Irish accented voice called out, "Who is it, at this bloody time of night?"

Fox modulated his voice, drawling softly, "It's just me, Con. Open up."

"Danny?" Fox heard the lock disengage, and the door opened. Ethan's twin stood there, smiling at him quizzically.

It took Mulder's breath away. *My God, they're so alike.*

Connar stood aside. "Well, don't stand out in the hall like a bleedin' rent boy waitin' for his johnny, love. Come in." Mulder went into the room. Down the hall, Ethan Hunt clenched his hands into fists as he heard the door close.

Fox moved casually, tossing the garments he carried on the bed. "I forgot my key."

"You'd forget your head if God hadn't screwed it on tight, love." Connor said good naturedly. He came over and reached down, fingering the dry trunks. "Didn't have your swim, then?"

"They were already closed."

"What a shame. Now I'll have to work ever so hard to get you relaxed, won't I?"

Fox was startled when Connor Galbraith grabbed his wrists and threw himself against him, knocking him back onto the bed. He moved Fox's wrists up over his head, pinning them there, lying on top of him.

Fox felt a very firm erection pressing against his thigh as Connor Galbraith's mouth descended on his. Connor shifted, bringing his crotch against Mulder's, and began to hump against him in a lazy grind. Fox started to get hard, despite his stress.

Connor felt the tension in Mulder's body, but attributed it to Daniel's earlier upset. "Oh, love, don't be like that," he crooned. He released Mulder's wrists, stroking down his arms. "I'm sorry about this trip, truly I am. We won't stay any longer than we must, and I'll take you somewhere nice after." His hands were between them, unfastening Mulder's... Daniel's belt. "What about Italy, eh? Haven't been there for awhile. You can shop yourself silly in Milan, and stuff youself on those Italian ices you like so much."

Fox knew he had to respond. Daniel would. If he remained silent, Connor might not expect a substitution, not right off. But he'd know something was wrong, and that would make him examine 'Daniel' more closely. Fox half closed his eyes, making his voice husky. "Would you eat some of them off me?" Connor laughed. *Oh, God, he sounds like Ethan.*

"You know I would, boyo." He had Fox's pants open now, and his hand moved into the gap, finding the slit in his boxers. He fondly stroked the hardening flesh he found there. Fox bit his lip. "Oh, you want to make some noise, don't you, Danny?" He squeezed gently, and Mulder moaned. "That's right, my lover. It's so sweet when you sing for me, Danny. You drive me crazy when you do that."

His hand moved steadily, stroking Mulder's awakening cock. It felt fantastic, but Fox knew he had to get to the syringe. It was in his pocket, and that meant that he had to get Connor away from that vicinity, and distracted.

Fox took Connor's face between his hands and kissed him. The Irishman's lips parted invitingly, and Fox didn't hesitate to go exploring. *I don't know what Danny meant. Connor tastes pretty much the same as Ethan to me. But then, Danny's known Connor longer than I have Ethan.*

He pulled back, flicking his tongue once more over Connor's lips, and murmured, "I want to suck you tonight." Connor drew in a ragged breath. Fox lowered his lashes, then looked up at the man who loomed over him through them. "Please, Daddy."

Connor groaned, and moved off him, sitting on the edge of the bed. Again he pumped Mulder's erection, then let his hand slide caressingly down the other man's inner thigh. "Yes, Danny boy. Daddy would like that very much."

*Role playing within role playing.* Fox sat up, winding his arms around Connor's neck for another kiss. He let his right hand drop into Connor's lap, fondling the bulge of his hard-on. "Oooh, Daddy," he breathed. "Is that all for me?"

"Yes, Danny."

"Is it because I've been good?" He licked Connor's throat.

"Such a good boy." Connor pushed gently on his head, urging him down.

Fox slithered down and around, dragging his hands over Connor's taut body as he went to his knees in front of the Irishman. He kneaded Connor's fly for a moment, then slowly pulled the zipper down and unfastend the button and belt. He reached inside and pulled out Connor's stiff cock. *Maybe not exactly the same. I think Ethan is a little thicker, and he doesn't flush quite that deep.*

Fox tipped his head, and leaned forward. Connor gasped as Mulder's soft hair caressed his turgid prick. Then Fox/Daniel lifted his head, letting the hot length slide along his cheek while he pushed the trousers farther down Connor's hips.

"Please, Danny," Connor moaned. "I need you, boyo."

Mulder lapped delicately at the clear drop of pre-cum that quivered on the very tip of Connor's penis. At the same time, his hand slipped into his pocket, and he found the little syringe. With his left hand, he held Connor's shaft, as he ran his tongue carefully along the ridge that ran up it's underside. He flicked the cap off the needle with one finger, holding it cautiously so that he was not stuck.

Connor was whipsering hoarsly. "Take me, lover. Oh, God, Danny. I love you so."

Feeling a twinge of guilt at the raw tenderness in the other man's voice, Mulder fitted his lips around the swollen, slick cock head. As he began to swallow Connor's prick, he brought his hand up, as if to grip his hips for more leverage. At the very moment he pricked Connor, pushing the plunger, he sucked very hard, and flicked his tongue.

Connor jerked, and gasped with laughter. "Jesus! Danny, boy, ya have a hang nail, I think." He grabbed Fox's wrist playfully, before Fox could pull it away. "What? What the hell is this?"

His voice was puzzled as he plucked the disposable syringe from Mulder's hand. Mulder sat back, letting Connor's dick slide free as Connor looked at the little device.

His face darkened in confusion as he looked from the needle to Mulder. "Drugs? Danny, I don't believe it. Not you. You wouldn't..."

"I'm sorry, Galbraith," he said hoarsly.

Connor's eyes went wide, sudden understanding flooding him. Before Fox could move, Galbraith lashed out. A fist caught Fox only a glancing blow as he tried to pull back, but it knocked him sprawling. Before he could get up, Connor was on him, kneeling on his arms. He grabbed a handful of Mulder's hair and screamed, "WHERE IS HE? WHERE'S MY DANNY?"

The door burst open, and Ethan rushed in. Connor's head whipped around, and when he saw what looked like his doppleganger, his arm dropped in astonishment. But only for an instant. Then he dived for the bed, his hand reaching under the pillow.

Both agents knew what was happening. Ethan landed on him first, grabbing his arm just as he pulled the nasty looking automatic out from under the pillow. They struggled in grim silence for the weapon. Fox, careful to stay out of the possible line of fire, grabbed at Connor's arm, too, adding his strength to Ethan's. They knew that all they had to do was hold him for a few more moments.

The drugs moved swiftly through Connor's body. He felt them, and started cursing. His tone moved from venemous to desperate. "What are ya doin'? What do ya want? I've got cash and credit cards in me wallet, they're yours."

The others were silent. Connor gasped. "Oh, God. It's Montana, somethin' to do with that shite. What have ya done with Danny?"

Ethan glanced at Fox. "He's safe. We didn't hurt him. We won't hurt either of you."

"He's innocent, you bastards! All he does is love me. Let him go. I'll do whatever the fuck you want, but let my Danny go." Connor's voice was getting fainter, his struggles weaker. "Please..." Finally he went limp, eyes closing.

The laundry cart was rolled into the room. Connor was carefully depostied next to his lover, and both of them were covered. The the cart was rolled away.

Ethan shut the door, and looked at Fox. "From now on, you put them out of your mind. They'll be all right."

Fox sat on the bed, rubbing his face. "All they were worried about was each other. They must've thought they were going to die, and all they cared about was would their lover be safe." Ethan sat on the bed beside Mulder, putting an arm around his shoulders. Mulder leaned his head on Ethan, muttering, "I hate this part of it."

"I know. But it had to be done. And you did well." Mulder shivered as Ethan caressed his still half hard cock. "You did what you had to do. A lot of people come into this line of work thinking it's going to be like in the movies, or on television. When it gets to the nitty gritty, they think there's going to be a fade out, and they'll slip past having to really give anything up. You realized that wasn't how this works, Mulder. You got the job done. They can't have any doubts about you now."

"You didn't doubt me."

"No, I didn't." Ethan kissed him. "I KNOW how good you are." His hand moved slowly. "In every way."

Fox swallowed. It was time to move fully into the character he would be living for the next week or so. If he didn't... if he couldn't... It might mean his life, or Ethan's. He turned to Ethan, putting his arms around the younger man, kissing him hard. When he pulled back, he said quietly, "Am I your boy?"

Ethan leaned his forehead against Mulder's. He knew this was hard for him, and he appreciated it. He silently vowed that he would make it up to him when this was all over. But now... "You're my good boy, Danny."

He pushed Mulder back on the bed gently. "Tonight, let Daddy take care of you." Mulder sighed as Ethan lowered his head to his crotch and took his dick into his mouth.

It lasted a long time, Ethan made sure of that. He brought Mulder to the edge of climax again and again. Each time he would pause, holding the throbbing erection tightly around the base, preventing the flow of sperm that would have brought relief. He intended to have Mulder thoroughly exhausted by the time he was done, so that the other man would sleep.

Near the end, when Mulder was whimpering for release, Ethan finally opened his own pants and reached inside to fondle his own rock hard erection. He returned to his task, now giving unrestrained fellatio while he pumped himself. In moments Mulder was thrusting deep into his throat, gasping with each lunge. There was a desperation about him that Ethan hadn't experienced before, and he thought he knew what had caused it.

If they hadn't taken Connor and Danny, the other two men would probably have been making love at this moment. Fox felt as if they were stealing a little of the other men's lives, and he wasn't sure how to deal with it.

Ethan released Mulder from his oral embrace, climbing up his body to lie over him. Reaching between them, he took both rigid cocks in his hands, holding them tightly together, and thrust. Fox cried out, grabbing at his shoulders, hips pushing up to meet him. When Ethan felt the hot stream of Mulder's spunk flow down over his hands, it brought him to his own climax. Their seed mingled, coating his fingers with warmth.

When they were done, Ethan got a cloth from the bathroom and cleaned them both, then helped Fox strip, and removed the rest of his clothes. They crawled into bed and held each other.

Mulder drifted off to sleep quickly, but Ethan remained awake for a time, stroking his lover's hair, staring at the ceiling. *God almight, Fox. I think I've done something really stupid. I think I may have fallen in love with you, and now I'm going to run you in front of a thug who's probably a madman as well. Why the hell did I ever get into this profession?* He thought a while longer, then sighed. *Oh, well.* He gently kissed the sleeping man, feeling rather than hearing his unconscious, questioning murmur. *If I HADN'T, then I wouldn't have met YOU, would I, Mulder?*

---

Mission: Jaws of the Jaguar, Part 24

Danny woke up groggy. *God, did we go to a club last night? I haven't gotten drunk enough to warrant a hangover in ages. And I've NEVER actually blacked out. Well, except that one time Andrew thought it would be cute to make me get drunk, and I almost ended up with alcohol poisoning. It was worth the beating to throw up in his lap.*

He was feeling very uneasy about something. There was almost a sense of dread. *Con. Something about Con.* Daniel flailed out. He felt a wash of relief when his hand settled on the warm, bare skin of his lover. Eyes still closed, he moved over against Connor, throwing his arm across him and nuzzling his neck. The dear, familiar scent of his skin filled Danny's nostrils, and he almost drifted off to sleep.

*But something was wrong last night. Something was wrong with Connor, wasn't it? What was it? Was he sick? He's so stubborn when he gets ill.* Danny pressed even closer, absently licking Connor's throat in an affectionate caress... And his eyes popped open. *He didn't taste right.*

It all flooded back. The near argument, going for his swim, bribing the attendant, Connor coming in. But it wasn't Connor. He had tasted wrong, and suddenly the Irish lilt was gone from his voice, and those green eyes held a kind of apology, but no love.

Daniel pulled back a little, fearfully studying the man lying beside him. He could have sketched those beloved features in his sleep, but that other man had been so like his love.

As he stared, Connor opened his eyes, and winced. "Oo, me head." He saw Daniel, and stiffened, glaring at him.

Oh, God, the look in those eyes! It was as if he wanted to murder him. Hurt, Daniel said softly, "Con!"

Connor's face went slack for a moment, eyes doubtful. Then joy and relief flooded his face. He pulled Daniel into a fierce embrace, pressing his head down to his chest. "Danny boy! Oh, God, sweetheart! I thought I'd lost ya."

Daniel wilted against him. "I'm here, Con. I'm all right. But what about you? He didn't do anything to you, did he?"

"That bastard tarted up to look like you? No, lad. A wee stick in me butt is all, and I suppose I can thank them for this headache."

Daniel pulled back a little to look Connor in the face. "Like me?"

Connor looked contrite. "I know, sweet. I should have known sooner, but... I was a bit distracted. He DID look a lot like you, after all. He had the needle in me before I realized, and then I knew it couldn't be you."

"But Connor, the one I saw looked just like you."

"The fuck you say!" Connor sat up, round eyed with astonishment. "I'll be damned. I remember now. I had that devil with your face down on the ground, ready to pound him ugly, and someone who DID look like me came in."

Daniel was trembling. "Connor, what's going on?" He looked around. "This isn't our room." It wasn't bad, but it was by no means the luxury hotel room they had checked into.

"Fuck me if I know, Danny. I thought it was something to do with Montana, but why would he kidnap us when we were on our way to meet him?"

Connor got out of bed, moving gingerly. Once he got upright, the dizziness faded, and he was steady enough on his feet. "Mm. Well, I see they don't intend for us to go far." Both men were in their underwear, and there was no sign of any other clothing in the room.

There were two doors. One led to a tiny bathroom, complete with sink, toilet, and shower. Connor tried the other. "Locked. No great surprise there, eh?" He ran his hand around the frame. "Hinges on the other side. Dammit. That means we can't hope to take it down, and we can't hide behind it since it will open out. Fuck!"

Daniel sat, watching Connor prowl the room. He noticed that it wasn't actually a bed they'd woke up on, it was a futon. The only other furniture was a box cabinet with a television set sitting on it, facing the bed. The set was chained to the wall. At last, Connor dropped back down beside him. "Fuck. There isn't even anything I might be able to break up to use for weapons. Somebody has put some thought into this, Danny boy."

"I'm scared, Con." He was looking down at his hands, and his voice was a little shaky.

"Oh, love." Connor wrapped his arms around the taller man, holding him tightly as he began to shiver. "It's going to be all right. I won't let anything happen to you, you know that."

"I know you'll try. But Con, this... this is something pretty big, I think. The really big guys have left you alone so far. I'm afraid they may have decided to notice us."

"I've been in tough spots before, love. I got out then, I'll get out now." *Only all I had to worry about then was meself. You're my hostage to fortune, Danny.*

"Con," Danny had his head on his lover's shoulder. "I need to ask your permission to do something."

"What, darlin'?"

"I need you to tell me it's all right for me to do whatever it takes to try to persuade them to let us go."

Connor Galbraith closed his eyes in anguish. His lover was asking his permission to once again whore himself in an attempt to save both their lives. "No, Danny. I took you away from that sort of thing. You won't do it again."

"But it MIGHT work, Con. I'm good, you know that."

He kissed Daniel's hair. "No one knows that like I do, Danny. But they won't touch you, do you hear me? I only give you permission if it's to save yourself, to keep them from hurting YOU. I DO NOT give you permission to do it on my account."

Daniel was quiet, then said, in a low voice, "I'll do it anyway."

Connor grabbed his chin and forced Daniel to look into his face. His eyes blazed, and his voice was hard. "I forbid it, Danny! D'ya hear me? I'm not worth it, love. I'm not worth that kind of sacrifice."

"But I love you, Con."

"Then you'll do as I say. How can I explain this to you, Danny? Nothing you could do would ever make me love you less, that's not why I'm sayin' no. But I couldn't live with the thought that you'd been through something like that to save my worthless hide. So you'll say no more of it. Besides..." He snorted. "They're probably straight. If they'll go so far as to drug us and kidnap us, I hardly think they would have resisted raping one or both of us while we were out of it. And my ass isn't sore. How about you, love?" He pinched Daniel's buttock, and, for a miracle, got a weak laugh.

"No. I seem to be as pristine as when I went down to the pool."

"Then I'll let them live."

"My hero." Daniel kissed Connor, his mouth soft against the Irishman's lips. And, despite their situation, despite the uncertain future and the almost certain danger, Connor started to get hard.

He wasn't prepared when the door opened, but he reacted quickly. He was on his feet in a split second, pushing Daniel behind him. He didn't attack: he knew better than to do anything violent when he was in such a vulnerable position without being absolutely certain of the situation.

Two men came in. One was the attendant from the hotel pool. The other was a dapper, older man, with an intelligent, cultured face. He nodded at them and said, in a British accented voice, "Please, Mr. Galbraith, have a seat."

Connor scowled. "Might have known the bleedin' Brits would be in on it." He sat beside Danny again, defiantly pulling the other man into a one armed embrace.

The Englishman didn't even raise an eyebrow. "Thank you for your co-operation. I hope it will continue. I expect you're feeling very confused."

"That's quite an understatement," Daniel said archly. His expression was calm, but Connor could feel the faint tremor in his body.

"Yes, I suppose so. I want to assure you that neither of you are in any danger. You will be treated as gently as you will allow us, and with as much dignity as we can manage. I apologize about the state of undress, but it DID seem more sensible, till you adjusted to your situation."

"Adjusted? Exactly how bleedin' long do ya intend to keep us in this box?" Connor demanded.

"That I cannot say. It depends on many things. There are certain things that must be accomplished, and there is no fixed timetable. You will be held here, as comfortably as possible, until our operatives return safely."

Daniel said, "You say safely. That means there's danger involved. Judging from what y'all have gone through already, I'd say a good bit of it. What happens to us if they DON'T return, safely or otherwise?"

"We do not like to think about that possibility, Mr. Ballard. But in that case, you still will not be harmed. I'm not sure if I can guarantee you a quick release, though. It's not entirely up to me. There are many people involved in this enterprise, and the welfare of all must be considered."

"What's this all about, anyway?" Connor demanded. "What's it got to do with us? Specifically, what's it got to do with Danny? Why the hell are you messing about with HIM?"

"Mr. Ballard is a tad peripheral in some aspects, but vital in others. He is a part of your life, Mr. Galbraith. If you are held incommunicado, HE cannot be left at liberty."

"Oh, shit," groaned Connor. "I knew it. All my fault." Daniel squeezed him silently. "Who are you people? CIA? Interpol? FBI? Fucking KGB? Who?"

"None of those, though there are elements from all. There will be time to discuss this later, Mr. Galbraith. We have been observing you for some time now, and certain members of our organization have come to the conclusion that you and," he nodded graciously toward Daniel, "your friend, Mr. Ballard, have skills that would benefit us greatly. And in benefitting us, you would benefit a great many others, perhaps too numerous to count. But for right now, Mr. Galbraith, Mr. Ballard, you needn't worry." He smiled. "We're the good guys."

Daniel rolled his eyes. "Charming. Connor, hon, we're in deep shit, because even the most liberal people in the world are hardly likely to believe WE'RE anything but bad guys."

"Not necessarily, Mr. Ballard. Not necessarily. You have to remember, necessity makes strange bedfellows."

"Well," Connor bit his lip thoughtfully. "Danny, we may have to listen to the man. After all," he ruffled his lover's hair playfully. "You and me, we've had our share of strange bedfellows, haven't we now?"

"If you're thinking about that contortionist in Vienna, I suppose so."

"I know you two have just wakened, but I'd advise you to sleep again, if you can. You have satellite television, and we can get you reading material for your amusement. When you wake up, we can get you some food. Any specific requests for food will be met as well as possible, though I will warn you that we are not a short order kitchen. Alcohol can be provided in >modest amounts, but no drugs."

"We don't DO drugs." Connor said indignantly.

"No, you only distribute them," There was no condemnation in the cool voice, but Connor felt his hackles rise. Why? It was perfectly true. He was a drug runner. "Is there anything you need right now?"

"Something for me head. It aches fierce. I expect it's the same for Danny." Daniel nodded. Connor looked his captor in the face. "And some personal lubricant."

"Con!" Danny hid his face against his lover's shoulder.

"Well, it's not like they don't know, love. Not from the way that one wearing your face acted." He glared at the other man. "You haven't got this box bugged or on candid camera, have ya?"

"No, we do not."

"Just as well. We wouldn't say shit you could use. And if ya wanted to watch us make love," He leaned over and nibbled Daniel's earlobe, drawing a longing whimper. "It wouldn't be the first time, would it, love?"

"Will you require condoms?"

*Oh, he's a cool character.* "No. Under the circumstances, I want to be as close to my lover as I can be."

"Very well. Headache remedy, and..." The ghost of a smile. "Personal lubricant." Without another word he turned, and left the room with his burly companion. Daniel and Connor heard several locks engage.

When they were gone, Daniel slapped Connor on the chest. "You are BAD."

"But ya love me."

"Yes, I do. What does that say about me?"

"It says you're the kindest, most generous-hearted person I've ever been blessed with meetin', Danny boy. And I'll love you every chance I get. I'm startin' to think that they may not be bull shittin' us. They may not intend us bodily harm, just want to keep us out of circulation for awhile. In that case, I'm damn sure not goin' to give up loving you while we're locked up here." He nipped Daniel's shoulder. "It'll give us somethin' to pass the time, won't it?"

They sat close together while they waited for the man to return, murmuring to each other, saying things that lovers say. Daniel put his lips to Connor's ear and whispered to him, detailing all the things they loved to do together, making a list of amusements for the time of captivity. By the time their captor returned with the supplies, Connor was achingly hard, a damp patch showing on his boxers over the bulge of his erection.

The man who had attended the pool at the hotel silently offered four aspirin and a paper cup of water. Connor took them all. He popped two pills in Daniel's mouth, then held the cup for him to sip. Then Daniel repeated the action for Connor, giving him his medicine. Then, obviously fighting down a smile, the man offered Connor a tube of lubricant. "We got you the large size, so you won't need another right away."

Connor took it, straight-faced. "Thanks. We'll need it." He had his arm around Daniel again, and turned to lick his ear, causing him to shiver and almost laugh out loud. Shaking his head, and smiling now, the attendant left the room, locking the door again.

When he was gone, Daniel pulled off his jockey shorts, showing that he was half-hard himself. "Give it to me, Con. I'll get myself ready. I'll put on a nice show for you." Connor turned the tube over in his hands, looking at it. When he looked at Daniel again, Danny became still and quiet. For almost a minute they just looked at each other. At last he said tentatively, "Con? If you'd rather I sucked you..."

Connor reached out and caressed Daniel's cheek gently. "Danny boy, if I asked you nicely, would you fuck me?"

Daniel drew in a sharp, startled breath. "But Connor, you never..."

"Yeah, I never. I love you so much, Danny, and I've never had you inside me. I want that tonight, my lover." He kissed Daniel gently, nibbling at his full lower lip. "All these times over the years, Danny, you've given, and you've given, and I've loved it."

"I loved it, too."

"Then you won't deny me that, will you, boyo? You won't deny me the feel of the man I love filling me up." Connor reached out and gripped the thickness of Daniel's arousal, stroking slowly. "I know you haven't done it often, Danny, but you HAVE done it. And it won't be the first time I've bottomed, though it's been so long that it might as well be. Please, love."

Daniel was swaying, losing himself already in his lover's knowing, familiar touch. Connor could make him do almost anything. And, though he was by nature a submissive, the idea of taking Connor was incredibly erotic. For such a forceful man to want to surrender... It was intoxicating. "Yes, Con. Oh, I'd LIKE that."

Connor pressed the tube into Daniel's hand, then pulled off his boxers. "I wish we had a proper bed. I'd like to stand beside it and bend over, brace on the mattress. But I suppose the traditional position will have to do." He got back down on the futon and positioned himself on his hands and knees, spreading his legs wide.

Daniel just stood there for a moment, mesmerized by the beautiful sight. His knees were starting to feel weak, so it was easy enough to kneel behind Connor. He opened the tube, and squirted a large squiggle of gel onto his fingers. Spreading Connor's cheeks, he wiped it the length of the crack.

Connor jumped, "Jesus, Danny! Is it always that cold? Why haven't ya said somethin' to me, lad?"

"No, Connor, it isn't always that cold. You usually remember to warm it first. I'm a silly, overexcited ass." Daniel massaged, working warmth into Connor's flesh. "Is that better?"

"Heavenly." he sighed. "Come on, boy. I'm eager for your cock."

Said cock gave a twitch, hearing its name mentioned. Working slowly and carefully, mindful of Connor's long abstinence of this type of sex, Daniel worked first one, then two fingers into his tight channel. Connor grunted softly as Danny started to move them, gradually pulling them apart to stretch the tight, muscular ring. "Am I hurting?" Daniel said anxiously.

"Ah, no, Danny! Christ, that feels so good! I had forgotten how wonderful it could be. But I am sort of a virgin at this. I never had someone I love do it to me. Give me another one, angel."

Daniel bunched three fingers and worked them into Connor's rectum, ever mindful to keep his fingers angled so the nails wouldn't be a danger. He listened to the rumbling purr that seemed to throb through Connor, beginning to smile. Well, he knew how much HE enjoyed it when Connor did this for him. He wanted Connor to experience the same pleasure. "I think you're ready, Con."

"I'm PAST ready, Danny. Fuck me now, or I'll be done and limp as a rag when you come inside me, and I don't want that."

"Just a second. I want to give you a little more slickem' up." Connor felt the short nozzle of the tube nudge his loosened hole. "I've been holding this between my thighs. It should be warmed up." Indeed, the thick ointment that oozed into Connor's anus was body temperature. It made him even harder, thinking that it was from Danny's body heat.

Then the tube was gone, and he felt Daniel moving up closer behind him. Daniel's hands were on his hips, and then Daniel was sliding into him: hot and thick, stretching open a passage that had not been used in that manner for a number of years. It ached, despite the careful preparation, but Connor bit off a moan, not wanting Daniel to know. He'd worry, and he might stop, and Connor didn't WANT him to stop.

Finally Daniel was all the way inside him, and he paused, giving his lover a minute to adjust. He rubbed Connor's back in small circles. "All right?"

"Yes. So good, Danny."

"I'm glad. And you..." Connor yelped as his lover gave him a playful slap on the butt. "You are as tight as any virgin I'VE ever heard of."

"Good." Connor didn't have as much skill at this as Daniel did, but he was willing, and determined to please his lover. He concentrated, and bore down, trying to squeeze as Daniel did for him sometimes.

He must have succeeded, because Daniel made one of his lovely sounds, a little whine this time, and it made Connor smile to himself. "I can still make you sing, Danny. Even like this."

"God, you vain, vain man. I love you." Daniel started to fuck, moving in Connor with slow, gentle strokes. *This is so different, but he feels so wonderful. What made you decide to give me this gift, Con?* But he knew, really. They had both each thought that they had lost the other. It was a devastating thing. Connor was so joyful at his return that he wanted to do something that would bind them >even more closely. And Daniel... Daniel just wanted Connor, any way he could have him, any time.

Connor absorbed each thrust, relishing the feel of Danny filling him, pulling back, and filling him again. His hands worked in the sheets as Daniel's cock head glided over his prostate, again and again. He'd had Danny massage him internally with his fingers, that had been a regular part of their sex play, but it wasn't the same.

Connor sensed the tension in Danny, the tighter grip on his hips telling him that his lover was restraining himself, wanting to go harder. He glanced back over his shoulder, meeting a gaze that had gone dark with arousal, seeing that beautiful, flushed face from a different angle. "Give it to me, Danny! Don't hold back. I want all of you. You're a fine, strong man, my lover, and I want to FEEL you."

With a small cry, Daniel speeded up, throwing himself against Connor. Connor braced his legs and arms even wider, taking the jar of each now unrestrained thrust. Daniel took Connor at his word, pounding into his ass with all his speed and strength. It was an impressive performance, especially for a man who had spent most of his life as a 'passive' partner.

Connor's voice rose to mingle with Danny's as their coupling moved to its climax. Daniel lunged against him, driving himself to the very limit, and came, moaning Connor's name. Connor felt, for the first time, the hot pulse of Danny's sperm filling his body cavity. As he felt the first liquid gush, Danny snaked a hand under him and gripped his throbbing prick, bringing him to completion with a half dozen quick, expert strokes.

When they were done, as always after they made love, they held each other. Once again it was Daniel who snuggled in Connor's arms. He drifted off to sleep, and his face was peaceful. He had decided to trust Connor. If his lover said that he believed they would not be harmed, then they would not be harmed. As for Connor...

He held his love, feeling the warm trickle of Danny's sperm leaking from his still loosened, gently throbbing rectum. *I'm going to have to remember how >good this can be. My sweet Danny.* He hugged his lover, getting a sleepy, nonsensical murmur in return. *Love, there's some who might think you not much a man for giving yourself up to me the way you do. But damn, haven't I just had proof of how wrong they are?*

He thought, more briefly, of what it might be that the ones who were holding them wanted, in the long run. Well, Daniel had TOLD him it was time to get out of the business. Maybe retirement had just come early.

In the next room, Ethan and Fox's control decided that his two guests must have gone to sleep for the night. *Cameras and bugs, Mr. Galbraith? Hardly necessary >with the ruckus you two raise when you're having a good time. And what was that I heard? I got the distinct impression from some of the things you were calling out that friend Daniel rode YOU tonight. That isn't what our information indicated about your relationship."

He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "I begin to believe that there's more to you two than we had thought."

---

Mission: Jaws of the Jaguar, Part 25

The next morning, Mulder got up and showered, using Daniel's all-over body shampoo, shaved using Daniel's expensive shaving cream, and got into Daniel's clothes. He stood before the mirror, buttoning up the forest green silk shirt. His own wardrobe, the one Ethan had bought for him, was stowed in the suitcases, interspersed with Daniel's clothes.

When he was done, he just stared at himself in the mirror, and murmured, "Who the fuck ARE you?" *If I drop dead of a heart attack right now, there are only about a half-dozen people in the world who will know that I am not Daniel Ballard. Two of them are Ballard and his lover.* Ethan, head to toe in cool black, came up behind him. He watched Mulder watching himself, then said, "What are ya thinkin', boyo?"

"I'm thinking that I'm an insurance scam waiting to happen. You sure a certain Irishman didn't take out a multi-million dollar policy on a certain Maryland ex-preppie, planning to fake something nasty and abscond?"

"Not the last I heard." He took Mulder's elbow. "C'mon, boyo. Time to check out."

Mulder sighed, and slipped on a pair of dark glasses. "Oh, all right, Con. I just wish we could have taken a later flight. You KNOW how jet lagged I get."

*This is going to work.* "I know, love. You'll have a nice nap on the plane before we land."

Downstairs, Ethan presented Connor Galbraith's credit card, and signed the receipt. The desk clerk mentioned what a pleasure it always was having them, and his eyes were bright and completely free of suspicion. He grinned appreciatively at the twenty the handsome Irishman slipped him, along with a wink. His tall companion, smacked the other guest lightly on the shoulder, and the clerk chuckled. That Mr. Ballard was nice enough, but he was a jealous one.

At the airport, they presented the tickets that had been on the hotel dresser, and were shown to first class. The stewardess was not quite smothering in her attentions, but spent more time than was necessary pointing out the various comfort features, explaining the champagne brunch that was available later on, and offering magazines, drinks, headphones... everything but her telephone number, and they might have had THAT if the other attendant hadn't bustled over and scolded her into getting to the other travelers. The flight was uneventful. Both men took advantage of the champagne brunch. Mulder had flown often during his tenure with the FBI, but the coach accommodations he was used to were nothing like first class. Sipping the brut champagne, he reflected that it would be very easy to get used to this.

He took a nap later in the flight, so he was refreshed when they landed at Bogota in the afternoon. In the airport, he presented Daniel Ballard's passport, and it was stamped without a second glance. *That's it. I've just committed fraud.*

There were several men standing off to one side, holding cardboard placards with names written on them. One of them, a slender, handsome Latino in his very early twenties was holding one that said 'GALBRAITH'. He wasn't in much doubt as to who he was looking for, though. He was staring frankly at Fox and Ethan. *Or rather, Connor and Daniel."

Connor was lifting their cases off the carousel, and Fox poked him gently. "Con, hon. I think someone wants us."

"I wouldn't be the least bit surprised, sweetheart. We're hot." Fox poked him again, then pointed. Connor turned his attention to the waiting man, and gave him an encouraging nod.

The man came forward, his manner deferential. "Senor Galbraith and Ballard?"

"That's us, laddie. But you're not Montana."

"Oh, no, senor! The padrone could not come himself, so he has sent me to greet you. I am Manuel."

"Of course you are," Mulder drawled. He turned to Ethan and said stiffly. "See? Doesn't even have enough courtesy to meet us himself."

"Danny, hush! Mr. Montana is a busy man. Things come up." Fox grunted pettishly. *Damn. I do believe he has Daniel DOWN>*

"Gentlemen, we have a suite reserved for you at our finest hotel." Manuel gestured for a porter, who began loading the cases on a cart. "It will be my pleasure to take you there, and Senor Montana will meet with you tomorrow. You will have time to rest and refresh yourselves."

Manuel's POV

The Irishman smiles at me. His smile is warm, but his green eyes are cold. "Oh, now, that's very thoughtful of ya, lad. But I think that Daniel and I will just have a bit of a taxi ride instead, if you'll give us the name of the hotel. Ya see, it's not that I don't trust ya," his eyes narrow. "but I don't KNOW ya."

Good. I had told Olivero that anyone who had risen so quickly in our world would be unlikely to be trusting enough to just go with someone he did not know. In a way, this has been a small test, one of many that are to follow. Connor Galbraith has passed it handily. He has proved at least a decent level of caution.

I bow my head. "As you say, senor. A wise course of action. Would you mind, then, if I accompanied you? I can have an associate pick up the car later. Senor Montana would not like for me to abandon his guests." Galbraith looks at his companion questioningly.

Daniel Ballard has crossed his arms petulantly. Now he uses one fingertip to pull his sunglasses down his nose, and looks at me over the rims. He has the most extraordinary eyes I have seen in years. They look golden. No wonder Senor Galbraith is smitten with him. Even if he is spoiled. At last he says. "Oh, I suppose it's all right. He looks like a nice enough boy."

I drew myself up proudly. "Senor, I am a MAN." He smiles lazily. Perhaps he would have taken my remark more seriously if the top of my head was not even with his nose. I begin to see how Daniel Ballard draws others. It would be a great temptation to PROVE to him that you are a man, and not by beating him.

Daniel refuses to leave the terminal until a taxi is found and the luggage loaded. "Are you KIDDING, Con? In THAT heat? I'd melt into a little puddle on the sidewalk."

Senor Galbraith playfully pinches his hip. "Then I'd be there to lap ya up, Danny."

That is another bit of information confirmed. They are very playful with each other, these two. And they are not shy about expressing their affection in public, in words or acts.

Ballard snorts. "You vulgar man. Kiss me." They kiss, and I see the quick flicker of a tongue, though I cannot tell who is the aggressor.

We all three squeeze into the back seat of the taxi. I sit behind the driver, with Ballard beside me and Galbraith on his other side. Ballard sits back with a sigh as the taxi pulls away from the curb. "When will they invent something to keep all the cool air from leaking out when you open a car door? This is almost as bad as outside." He pulls a handkerchief from his pant's pocket, nudging me as he does so. "Oh, sorry, little man." Again the lazy smile. It makes me think about kissing him till he moans. He takes Galbraith's chin in his hand and gently blots beads of sweat from his brow and jaw. Then he smiles at me. "You're awful sweaty, too. Would you like...?" He holds up the kerchief questioningly. I look at Galbraith, but he only raises an eyebrow. I nod.

His fingers are cool as he touches my chin. He pats my forehead, and my cheeks with the cloth. Then his hand moves down, and he slowly pats my throat. He is wearing his sunglasses, and I can't see his eyes. I want to, very much. His expression hasn't changed: there is still that small smile.

Galbraith says, "Danny, quit teasing the boy."

He sits back with a pout. "You're no fun."

Galbraith leans over him. "Forgive him, lad. He's a dreadful flirt. I'd have beaten him to death a long time ago if I thought he really meant it."

"Have I told you what an awful liar he is?" Ballard dries his own face, then his throat. I watch as he unbuttons the top three buttons of his shirt and mops at the perspiration that glows on his chest. He is facing straight ahead, but somehow I know he is aware of my gaze.

"Danny." There is a hint of warning in Galbraith's voice.

Ballard grimaces, and re-buttons his shirt. "This shirt is going to be absolutely ruined, you know that, don't you? They're never the same after you sweat heavily in them."

"If that's a hint, yes, you can go shopping. Later." Ballard's smile becomes smug. Yes, he is spoiled. I can't help but wonder if he is worth it. I think he must be. Connor Galbraith is not so rich as my master, but he is well-to-do by the world's standards. He can afford to buy himself the best men and women to satisfy his every whim. He chooses to stay with this man, and treats him as an honored husband. That says much.

I know that my master cares for me... as much as he is capable of caring for any living being. But I do not delude myself by thinking that I am irreplaceable. If it suited his purposes, he would kill me. Perhaps he would mourn me for a few days, even as much as a few weeks. Then he would take someone else to his bed, and his life would go on. I know my worth in his eyes. I do all that I can to increase it.

My master is in the city, and nothing pressing keeps him away. It is simply that he does not wish to seem too eager. That would put him in the less powerful position, he feels. I do not doubt he is correct. Such men as my padrone and this Galbraith know that dealings in our world call for as much show and delicacy as any diplomatic relations between nations that could be allies... or foes.

Still, Montana does not want to be disrespectful, so he has sent an ambassador to welcome the visitors. I act in that capacity. I am to see to their every comfort, provide them with anything they might wish: liquor, drugs, women, men... myself.

The idea might have displeased me. It would not be the first time Olivero has used me as a whore to lever some concession from an interested party, male or female. This time it would be a pleasure to serve him in that manner. Both of these men are very beautiful, very hot. Their ease says that they know sex, and are comfortable with it. It would be enjoyable to service them.

Despite their mutual possessiveness, we know from our reports that Galbraith and Daniel occasionally take outside partners, almost always together. It is believed that any solo rendevous are know to the other partner, and approved. An 'open' relationship, yes, but a very NARROW opening. I do not doubt that if one showed interest in someone the other disapproved of, there would be fireworks. Neither Southerners, nor the Irish, are well known for their tolerance of unfaithfulness in their mates.

"If you wish, senors, I can show you a few of the sights in Bogota this afternoon."

Daniel again peers over his glasses at me. "Y'all DO have clubs here, right?"

"Of course, senor. Very fine clubs, of all kinds. My padrone wishes to invite you to one that he owns tomorrow night, as his special guests."

"That'll be fine, boyo. Danny, there'll be no clubbing for you tonight. You'll be going to bed early. I won't be dealing with you growling like a bear all day tomorrow."

"Connor, really!"

"You do, and you know it. You get jet lagged, and if you don't sleep, you try to make up for it with caffeine, and that makes ya as snappish as a bear trap."

Daniel leans toward me confidentially. "Not only does he lie, he exaggerates outrageously."

"Danny," Connor says quietly. "Darlin', it isn't that I mind ya flirtin' with the boy. But we don't know what his situation is. He may have a friend who'd object. Strongly."

"Oh." Ballard turns those bright eyes back on me. "So, DO you have a special friend, Manuel?"

There was a time when such a question might have made me blush. It was not easy for me to accept the fact that I found the mouths and asses of men more attractive than the pussies of women. Our culture does not much respect one who lusts after his own kind.

If you are a man who loves men, you must be very strong, or you are a victim. I have chosen not to be a victim. Though some would look at what passes between my master and myself, and think that I lie. But this is from choice, it is not forced upon me. I submit, but because I choose to.

I answer him honestly. "Yes. I belong to Senor Montana." I smile. "But he shares."

---

Mission: Jaws of the Jaguar, Part 26

Olivero's POV

I keep an apartment in the city, for the sake of convenience. Several times a year I spend a week or two there, and sometimes I lend it to friends or associates. I could have had Galbraith come here: there is room. But I do not want to appear over-eager to please him.

No, the hotel is good enough. I have made sure that the accommodations are lavish, but not ostentatious. I have seen to it that they are supplied with all the little amenities I think they might like, and I have sent my own boy, Manuel, to greet them.

I wonder if they realize that this is an honor I am showing them? It would have been simpler to send one of my grunts, instead of depriving myself of Manuel's company. Instead I send someone who means something to me personally.

I sit in my darkened living room, drinking brandy. He's taking his time, my Manuel. He left more than five hours ago for the airport. Or maybe it is not Manuel who is responsible for the delay in his return. Galbraith and Ballard have a certain... reputation. They like handsome young men, and my Manuel is very beautiful. Perhaps they have coaxed him into a bit of play?

The thought does not displease me. I told Manuel to give them anything they wanted. Anything. I like to share my boy, as long as it is at MY directive. He knows well enough not to make advances to anyone without my permission. I've never had to worry about that with him, not like some of my previous lovers. God rest their souls.

At last I hear his key in the lock. I do not look around as he enters, and I hear him pause near the door. I know what he is doing. He is studying me, trying to gauge my mood and decide what he will do and say, how he will act. That is one of the things I value in Manuel. He never ceases to think of how he may best please me.

I hear the muted clunks that tell me he has removed his shoes. It is a sign of subservience that he remains barefoot while under any roof I provide for him. There is the soft pad of his footsteps as he approaches, then he is kneeling near my feet. He is >mute, waiting to be acknowleged. "You took long enough." My tone is not quite accusatory.

"I am sorry, sir. They invited me to dinner, and I recalled your instructions to deny them nothing."

"You could have called."

His beautiful olive complexion pales slightly, but he does not protest. "Yes, sir. I should have. I did not think. I crave your pardon."

Normally such an infraction would earn at least a slap, but I relent. I am in a good mood. My plans seem to be progressing nicely, and I am feeling indulgent. "It's all right. This time."

He realizes he has escaped punishment, and his tense posture relaxes just a bit. He knows enough to be properly grateful. "Thank you, sir. Is there anything you want? Anything I can do for you?"

I pat the cushion beside me. Now that he has permission, he moves up to sit with me. "You can tell me about our two new friends." I tip the glass to his lips, and he sips obediently. He licks the last of the liquor from his lips and watches as I take another swallow, then set the glass aside on the side table."What do you think of them? What happened?"

He frowns slightly, his eyes intent. He takes this seriously, and he is marshaling his words. At last he says, "They are much as we expected. There was no great surprise. The photographs..." He shook his head, smiling now. "They do not do justice."

"Nice, eh?"

He nods. "Both of them, very attractive. I prefer Galbraith, but I think you will like Ballard more."

"Why is that?" I know why, but I like to hear him talk, especially about sex.

"His nature. Galbraith is the one with power. Ballard... he is not effeminate, you understand, but he is... softer."

*Yes, Manuel, you know what I like. I have no use for the man/woman creatures. If I want a woman, I want a woman. If I want a man, I want a man.*

"I will have to send someone for the car at the airport. As I thought, they did not accept the ride. More simple caution than actual suspicion, I think." I nod. Caution is a good thing: suspicion can be dangerous.

"Were they pleased with their rooms?"

He shrugged. "They did not complain. Galbraith thanked me. Ballard just examined everything, testing the bed. He seemed to take it all as only what he deserves."

I grunt, amused. "I hear his lover spoils him. Is he worth it, do you think?"

Manuel smiles slowly. "Yes, I think so."

I touch his leg. "Did you find out?"

He sighs. "Not this time, but perhaps another. They are both flirtatious, Daniel the most. I think he would be interested, if his keeper approves."

"An interesting possibility. You'd like to top him, Manuel?" I never allow him to top me; him, or anyone else. That happened a time or two when I was young, poor, and obscure. The ones who did it were careless of my pleasure, and my emotions. It spoiled the act for me. I will not do it again.

He answers me honestly, knowing I will not fault him for his desires, as long as he controls them and awaits my permission to act on them. "Yes. It is hard to look at him and not want to fuck him. But I want the other, too. I want them both."

"We shall see, my pet. Now, this talk of sex has awakened a certain part of me." I let my voice harden. "On your knees, slave."

He moves quickly, kneeling again near my feet. "How do you want me, Master?" Oh, he's a good slave.

"Your mouth. Slowly." I spread my legs, and Manuel moves forward to place himself between them. How many times have I seen him like this? Yet I never tire of the sight.

He strokes my thighs for a long moment, running his hands along the inside of my legs I am wearing thin, knit trousers, and I can feel his touch easily. His hands move up to cover my crotch, kneading gently. He feels, following the outline of my cock through the material. I am not wearing underwear. It was an unnecessary expense when I was a poor child, and I never got in the habit. I only wear it occasionally now, more for the erotic feel of fine linen or silk, and the added erotic fillip of having it removed. Not today, though. Today all that separates my flesh from his is that one, thin layer of cloth.

Manuel has made a study of what arouses me. He knows that I like it either fast and brutal, or slow and sensuous. He has gauged my present mood correctly, and his touch is light. He works, stroking and squeezing, as my prick firms. Soon it is stiff, lifting my fly in a straining arch. A small damp patch appears over the head, where pre-seminal fluid has begun to ooze from the slit. He leans forward and puts his mouth over the tiny spot, sucking and licking. I can feel the moist heat, and I sigh. "Open them, slave. I want your tongue on me."

He silently opens my pants, and I lift my ass to allow him to slide them down. He pulls them off and sets them aside while I remove my shirt. When I am sitting naked before him, he begins to reach for me, but I stop him. "Yours, now. But don't get up."

He strips while still on his knees. Much practice has made him graceful in this. I enjoy the slide of his muscles as he pulls his undershirt over his head, and reach out to caress one dark nipple. He stops, eyes half closing, a small smile ghosting across his lips. I pinch, and he winces, but heat flares in his eyes. "Did I give you permission to stop, slave?"

He opens his mouth, then hesitates. Looking down he says humbly, "May I speak?"

Good, good. "Yes. Speak if you will, unless I tell you to be silent."

"I am sorry, Master. May I resume?"

"Yes." The pants, then the underwear go. All are folded into a neat pile before he once again kneels before me. "Now, to your work, boy."

He moves up into the fork of my legs, his head dipping forward, and I feel the first velvet touch of his tongue on the very tip of my glans. He holds me at the base and begins the slow, soft torture I love so well. We can do this for a long time, Manuel and I. I have trained him to sense when I near completion, and to stop me if I have not indicated my readiness. A quick constriction at the base of my cock, just above the balls, halts the eruption of my sperm time and again. Part of the trick of being a durable lover is having a good partner. Manuel is excellent.

I watch his neat, dark head moving as he laps up and down the length of my shaft. I shift, and he pauses at the base to suck first one, then the other testicle, dabbing each firmly with his tongue. Then he rises again to suck just the head, and finally swallows me, slowly.

Halfway down he has to pause and take a moment to adjust, and I allow it. He is not being lazy or willful. I am generously endowed, and it is not easy for him to take my full length down his throat, but he never protests. In all things carnal, he is a willing participant.

Finally I am engulfed. I hold his head, gently tonight, and begin to fuck up into his mouth with short, easy strokes. "Touch yourself, but don't come. I want you to come when I fuck you."

He shifts, not really surprised that I want him both ways tonight, and reaches down to take hold of his own prick. Manuel has a pretty dick: not so big as some, but beautifully formed, and he knows how to use it. Now he strokes himself while I pump into his mouth.

His breathing is faster now, ruffling my pubic hair, and he makes tiny whines as I push in deeply. When I feel myself coming close to orgasm, I release his head. He does not pull back, but continues sucking, waiting for a signal from me as to what I want next."On your knees, over the table."

He pulls free and turns, arranging himself over the low, sturdy coffee table before me, presenting his small, perfect ass. I kneel behind him as he spreads his knees for me. Spreading his cheeks, I see that the butt plug is still in place. Manuel removes it only when he relieves himself, or when we fuck. I ease it out, noticing how it glistens. "Good. You used plenty of lubricant."

His arms are folded before him, and he rests his cheek on them. "It makes it slide so nicely when I move, Master."

I slap one firm buttock. "Slut."

He sighs. "Yes, Master."

I spread him again, and examine his opening. It is well stretched from the plug, and I will not need to prepare him any further. Manuel is always ready for me. But to be sure, I suddenly plunge three stiff fingers into his cavity. His back arches, and he hisses as I rake over his prostate. The tone of our session has just changed. He knows that it will be fast and strong now.

He knows what I want, and begs, "Fuck me, master! Fuck me hard."

"How hard, bitch?"

He looks back at me, dark eyes glazed, mouth loose. "So hard that anyone who saw would think it were rape."

"It is impossible to rape you, whore. You always enjoy it." I slam into him, sheathing my cock in his rectum in one lunge. Manuel stiffens in a combination of pain and pleasure. Even loosened as he was, it is a shock, taking all of me so quickly. I relish the sharp cry that slides into a wanton, needy whimper as I begin to fuck him.

Manuel is still almost as tight as he was when I first took him three years ago. He was a cocky eighteen year old, who had the nerve to proposition me in the men's room of a club. It was obvious that he had slipped in: his clothing was far too shabby to have let him pass at the front door. He sucked me in a stall, then pushed me down on the toilet, dropped his ragged pants, and impaled himself on my cock, riding me to completion.

I took him home, and he has been with me ever since. He confessed that he had carefully chosen me as the man he would belong to, if I would have him. He had grown up on the streets, and knew the score. He knew exactly what he was getting into.

I have fucked him countless times since I acquired him, and it never grows dull. It's a shame he cannot bear children, otherwise he would have made a good enough wife. He is beautiful, intelligent, fiercely loyal, and can empty my balls like no one else I know.

At first, all he can do is hang on to the table as I ride him, buffeting his slender body. His erection, trapped under his belly, rubs against the smooth tabletop. Luckily, it is glass. Otherwise the fluid weeping from his rigid prick could leave streaks that would mar a wood finish.

But as I speed up, he finds my rhythm, and begins to thrust back at me. Our bodies meet with meaty smacks. Those, and our heavy breathing and grunts are the only sounds in the room. But as my strokes become shorter and harder, stabbing into him, he begins to whisper to me, obscenities and endearments, pleas and exclamations of pleasure.

Impatient for my release, I go still, buried deep inside him, holding his hips in a grip that will leave bruises, and command, "Work your ass, boy! Suck me with it."

He immediately bears down, and I feel the strong, talented muscles of his back passage ripple around me. He has practiced this, working on the plug or a vibrator for many minutes, strengthening his muscles to give me more pleasure. It is as if there is a fist inside him, gripping me firmly, squeezing and stroking. I come with a roar, spilling my seed into that tight grip.

When he feels the liquid pulse, he allows his own concentration to falter. I reach down and grab his balls, giving them a hard squeeze, and he comes with a choked gasp.

I pull out, leaving him to recover, collapsed across the table. I pick up the drink I had set aside and finish it, sitting on the sofa, watching Manuel as he slowly comes back to himself. Even in this dim light, I can see the shiny silver trail that my sperm makes, running down the inside of his thighs.

At last, with a groan, he pushes himself back firmly onto his knees. Turning, he moves between my thighs and begins to lick me clean. He had protested this once when we were first together, but only once. He's learned to keep himself cleaned out, if he doesn't like the taste of shit.

When he is done, I pull him onto my lap and sit, holding him in the dark. He rests his head on my shoulder. Anyone seeing us there would believe that we are simply lovers. I suppose it would never occur to them that occasionally a master will take his pet onto his lap to be caressed.

---

Mission: Jaws of the Jaguar, Part 27

Author's Notes: Translation: beso negro (noun) : The act of having a woman or a man sucking someone's anus, first licking the external surroundings of it and afterwards having her/his tongue introduced into the rectum completely. Literally, black kiss. It is a term widely known among promiscuous social establishments in Spain, but also known as an act of supreme and refined taste among aristocrats in Spain, France and Italy for the last two centuries. It was considered as about the most pleasant act a female could do for a man, and is widely documented in French and Spanish Erotic Literature. Also, Spanish and French courtesans would appreciate the quality of a gentleman's manners by the way he would perform it. Nowadays, it is becoming a fashionable act, as tradition is recovered. From The Alternative Dictionary. "Deseo darle beso negro." I want to give you the black kiss, or literally, I desire to give you. Okay, technically, I don't know if they say this in Columbia, but it SOUNDS like something Olivero would say.

---

Introductions

The dinner with Manuel had been pleasant enough. Mulder thought that he might have really enjoyed Manuel's company, if he had met him under other circumstances, and if, perhaps, he hadn't known for a fact that he was a drug trafficker, and quite possibly a murderer.

*You'd never know just by looking at him,* Mulder had thought, watching as the young man laughed at something Ethan had said, his dark eyes sparkling. But then that was pretty much the way with all of the really 'successful' killers, wasn't it? The reason they went on for so long and claimed so many victims was because they could project a pleasant, even sometimes attractive or at least harmless image. Look at Ted Bundy. How many women had gone with him willingly? Or Jeffrey Dahmer. The man had looked like the class dweeb, until he was pulling out the knife or the drill. He had no way of knowing for sure if Manuel had ever committed a violent act, but his close association with Olivero made it not only possible, but probable.

When Manuel had touched his hand to make some point during the conversation, Fox had reminded himself of this. *You don't know him, Mulder. You don't know what he looks like when he's angry, or what he'd do if he was crossed. You don't know what he's capable of.*

The fact that Olivero had sent him said something. Judging from the size of his operation, and his precipitous rise, Montana was not a reckless man. On a deal as important as this, he would send someone he trusted. And Mulder doubted that Olivero would trust anyone who was not nearly amoral as he was. As to whether Manuel was an actual physical threat on his own, they'd have to wait and see.

In their room, Ethan quickly used the little electronic scanner he had used on the interview room when he first met Mulder. It would be left with a courier before they went on to Montana's compound.

The room was clean. Ethan put away the device, saying, "And what do you make of the situation so far?"

Mulder kicked off his shoes and sprawled comfortably on the big bed. "He hasn't even met with us yet, and already he's starting the games."

"You got that impression, too, did you?"

Mulder nodded. "Oh, yes. Not meeting us at the airport. He's telling us that he's a busy, important man. Too many irons in the fire to neglect any of them just to welcome us. But he wants to show he appreciates us, so he sends someone special to him instead."

Ethan sat beside Mulder and started unbuttoning the FBI agent's shirt. "How special do you think he is? Is he someone that's going to be on the inside of the operation, or is he just Olivero's piece?"

Mulder watched Ethan's hands as he spoke. "I'd say he's in the loop. This venture means enough to Montana that he isn't going to want any slip-ups. He wouldn't have sent us anyone ignorant. I think Manuel might even be his second in command."

Ethan had opened the shirt. Now he stroked Mulder's chest slowly. "He's a little young for that, isn't he?"

Mulder closed his eyes as Ethan began circling around his nipples. "Age is relative. He might be young to us, but the records say he grew up on the streets, and you mature quickly in that environment, or you die. In any case, I think we have to consider him dangerous."

Ethan nodded, and leaned over, licking Mulder's right nipple. His lover sighed softly, and settled a hand against the back of his head. For a moment there was quiet as Ethan sucked the little bud to a firm peak. Then, with a gentle bite, he sat up and began removing his own shirt. "You were putting on quite a show with him in the taxi."

Mulder arched an eyebrow. In Daniel's voice he said, "Why, Con, honey! You KNOW I don't mean it. You're the only one I love."

"Stop it." Ethan kissed him. "Not tonight, not now. I want one more night with just you, Mulder. We'll have to be careful when we're with Montana, but tonight I want Fox Mulder and not Daniel Ballard, okay?"

"I'm glad."

There was so much in those two words. Ethan wished that he'd met Mulder some other way, some way not tied into a mission. Mulder knew that Ethan had been seeing him in relation to Daniel Ballard even before they met in Skinner's office. He was a psychologist, and was bound to look for layers in the relationship they were building. Only a supremely self-confident person would be able to dismiss the possible association with the other man.

As they made love, Ethan spoke Fox's name over and over, whispering it in his ear, calling it as he climaxed, telling him again and again that he was the one he desired. When they were done, Mulder was able to go to sleep, secure in Ethan's arms. Ethan, however, lay awake for awhile, watching his lover sleep, wondering at himself for allowing someone he cared for, and quite probably loved, walk into such a dangerous situation.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Manuel came to their hotel a little before noon. "Good day, senors."

"Y'all believe in starting the day kind of late, don't you?" Mulder drawled. "And they say we southerners are lazy."

"Danny!" Ethan said sharply.

"Oh, pooh, Con. The boy knows I'm just teasing him," Mulder responded. He gave Manuel a smile. "I wouldn't do it if I didn't like you, right?"

Manuel returned the smile. "As you say, Senor Ballard." He thought, *I hope you are careful with your teasing with Olivero. He is unpredictable in that. He may find you amusing, or he may decide to beat the impertinence out of you.*

He continued, "My master thought that you would appreciate the chance to rest after your long flight."

Mulder nodded. "Yes, that was good of him. Flying fatigues me, I'm afraid. I'm just not part of the jet set." "And where, pray tell, is your master now, boyo?" Ethan asked.

"He has some business to attend to, but says..."

Ethan interrupted him, his voice hard. "Yes, he DOES have business to attend to, right here! I'm beginnin' to think that perhaps Mr. Montana isn't quite so keen as he let on."

"No, no, senor!" Manuel said quickly. "Please, you must not take offense! Senor Montana values you and your good regard, but things come up unexpectedly. You are a businessman, you understand this, yes?"

Ethan scowled. "A certain amount of delay I can understand, but it starts to feel like he's puttin' us off."

Mulder knew Daniel's place in a situation like this. He would try too calm and soothe his lover. "Con, darlin', cool down, now. It isn't this boy's fault if his boss man is having trouble getting things together, is it? Anyway, we have time." He tickled Ethan under the chin. "You promised to take me shopping, remember?"

Manuel jumped in eagerly. "Yes! We have many fine shops here in the city. I will be happy to take you to them. They will be proud to have friends of Senor Montana as customers."

Ethan snorted. "They can be proud to have us on our own merit, can't they?" But he softened when Mulder again tickled him, and he smiled. "Oh, all right. Let me go tend to nature, and we'll see what we can find for you, Danny."

When he was in the restroom, Manuel said quietly, "Thank you, Senor Ballard."

"For what?"

"For easing his anger. My master would be very upset with me if you and your friend were not happy."

Fox's eyebrows rose. "Well, he shouldn't hold you accountable for THAT. Anyway, don't bother to thank me. Keeping Connor Galbraith happy is my vocation." His eyes twinkled. "I was called to serve, and I answered gladly."

Manuel gave him a look that spoke of shared knowledge. "We have both chosen our place, haven't we?" Mulder looked a little startled, then said slowly, "Yes, I suppose we have."

They had a light lunch at an outdoor cafe, then Manuel made good on his promise by taking them to the most exclusive stores in Bogota. Also as he promised, the mention of Olivero de la Montana's name was enough to have the staff of each establishment fawning in an almost embarrassing manner.

This time on the buying, Mulder showed a bit more determination and independence in his clothing choices. Once again he allowed Ethan to make most of the choices, as he had back in America. But once or twice he held firm on his pick, knowing that Daniel would be expected to show a certain amount of willfulness. Manuel watched him cajole and pout when 'Connor' tried to talk him out of buying the same shirt in three different colors. Ethan finally let himself be persuaded that Mulder needed green to make his eyes green, blue to make them blue, and brown to make them golden. That little transaction alone set the MI force back three hundred dollars, and he wondered what his control was going to have to say about that? They'd probably find some way to justify the expense as wardrobe, or uniform expenditures.

They were done by early evening, and it was agreed that the two visitors would refresh themselves and dress, and that Manuel would pick them up and bring them to meet Montana for dinner.

That evening, after a bit of debate, it was decided that Galbraith and Ballard would probably try to look a bit businesslike for their first meeting with Olivero. Ethan wore a simple, but fine, dark suit. Fox wore the dark blue blazer that had been one of his first pieces of 'Daniel wear', with a pearl grey shirt and white trousers. The businesslike effect was a bit offset by the tightness of his pants. They hugged his ass lovingly.

Manuel came for them, and Ethan said sharply, "So, he still can't take time to come for us personally, eh?"

Mulder put a hand on his arm. "Stop it, Con. Give the man a chance, will you? Don't start judging him till you've met him. I intend to have a good time tonight, and I won't have you spoiling it."

Manuel had told Olivero of Galbraith's impatience, and Ballard's peacekeeping. He understood Galbraith's irritation. He himself would have been furious if he had been in a similar situation. He decided that he couldn't afford to be any more aloof, and planned to make this evening a pleasant one for the two visitors.

Manuel took them to a small place on the outskirts of the city.. From the outside, it looked like the home of a well-to-do family, but inside it had been modified to be a discreet, high class restaurant. They were led into a private room, where Montana was waiting for them.

As he rose to greet them, both Mulder and Hunt studied him carefully. The photographs had not given a sense of how big the man was. Mulder was tall, but Olivero topped him by half a head, and his body was broad and thick. He was a massive man, but he moved with a smoothness that belied his bulk. *And none of that is fat,* Mulder thought.

He greeted them with a smile. "Senor Galbraith. Senor Ballard. I am Olivero de la Montana. I beg your forgiveness for the delay in our meeting. As I am sure you understand, things can come up abruptly in our line of work."

Ethan hesitated for a moment. Connor would probably be tempted to play power games along with Montana, but this deal was too important to do so for long. Finally he smiled, and shook hands. "Aye, the world has a way of..." he said with a shrug "having its way." He put a hand on Fox's shoulder. "My associate and friend, Daniel Ballard."

Olivero's grip lingered just a fraction longer than it had to. "Yes, I was expecting him. So pleased to meet you both." His hands were smooth, the nails well kept in the fashion of a man who does not have to do physical work for his living. But his early years of labor were evident in the strength of his grip, and the hardness underneath the smooth surface. "Please, sit."

Fox tried not to act surprised when Olivero pulled out his chair for him. Ethan raised an eyebrow, but did the same for Manuel before taking his seat opposite Fox. Olivero sat as a waiter brought menus and another poured water. "I wish to make a suggestion, Senor Galbraith. Tonight, let us put aside business matters. I would prefer not to discuss this in a public place, as I am sure you can understand."

Ethan nodded, sipping his water. "No objection to that. Pretty bloody sensible, actually."

"Well, I'm glad to hear it. I've been listening to nothing else for the past week, and frankly, I'm tired of it." Fox gave a small smile to the handsome waiter who handed him his menu, inspiring a faint blush.

It didn't escape Olivero's notice. *He likes to play, this one. Good. The question is, does he only play if he thinks he is safe from having to make good on his unspoken promises?* Aloud he said, "Then I must do my best to amuse you tonight. When we are done here, would you like to go to a club?"

Fox sat back as if someone had made a shocking suggestion. "Would I like to go to a club?" He looked at Ethan. "He wants to know if I would like to go to a club."

Ethan smiled, shaking his head. "Senor, when it comes to Danny, 'like' is far to weak a word to use when you're talking about clubs."

"Excellent. There is a little place farther into town that is very popular. It is not always easy to get in, but I own a percentage. There will be no problem. And this will be a long week indeed if we continue to stand on ceremony. Please, call me Olivero." He smiled at Fox. "Or Vero, as my friends do." "Yes, first names all around, eh? Much cozier. Now then..." Fox opened his menu and leaned a little closer to Olivero. "I'm going to need your help on this. My Spanish is hopeless. All I know is cerveza."

*Oh, well done, Fox,* Ethan thought, opening his own menu. *Now he'll speak in front of you more freely, thinking you won't understand.*

Olivero patiently translated almost the entire menu for the American. He enjoyed the faint whiff of Daniel's good cologne when he leaned closer to point out some item. Yes, Daniel Ballard was just his sort of meat: a well-bred, spoiled, handsome Anglo. Olivero had a penchant for Daniel's type dating back to his youth.

He resisted the urge to reach over during dinner and stroke the American's thigh. He needed to observe Galbraith a little more first, judge how he might react. Jealousy was a tricky thing.

After their meal, Manuel drove them back toward the center of town. Fox, sitting in the front seat with him, turned back to the two seated in the rear. "If this place is anything at all like the clubs back home, I am NOT dressed properly."

"Danny, you'll just have to deal with it," Ethan chided. "We're not going back to the hotel just so you can change clothes. You look fine."

Mulder huffed. "I can look BETTER. Well, there are still a few things I can do so I won't look HOPELESSLY out of place." He pulled off his tie, throwing it back at Connor. "Hold on to that for me, would you, dear?"

Connor stuffed the tie in his jacket pocket. "And why can't you keep it yourself?"

Mulder was unbuttoning his blazer. "Because I'm not going to be wearing this thing, and it might fall out of the pocket, that's why."

"Danny, I'm not sure you should."

"No, let him be comfortable." Montana smiled at Fox, his eyes glinting as the other man removed the blazer. "Please, Daniel, take off anything you like."

Fox tossed the blazer back to Connor, his eyebrows arching as he unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled up his sleeves. "I won't be going any farther than this right now. I have to like you very, very much before I give free shows." He unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt, opening the collar with a relieved sigh. "There. I swear, sometimes those button-downs like to choke a man. Now." He looked down at himself. "Not quite as colorful as I might like, but I believe I'm presentable."

Ethan snorted. "He's fishin' for compliments again."

Half turned toward the back seat, Fox tapped a long finger on the headrest. "Well?"

"You're beautiful, Danny. As always."

Fox nodded in satisfaction, saying, "Yes. But you're prejudiced." Then he looked questioningly at Montana.

For a moment, Olivero was silent. Fox folded his arms on the seat, resting his chin on them. The pose said he was willing to wait to hear his due. At last Olivero said, "Connor speaks the truth, Daniel. He studied the other man a moment more, then said quietly, "Deseo darle beso negro."

Manuel stiffled a giggle. Connor and Mulder looked politely puzzled. Fox knew the literal interpretation of what Montana had said, but he somehow thought that it was a slang term that had a completely DIFFERENT level of meaning. So he just said mildly, "Well, I don't know what that means, but it sounds pretty."

Olivero's smile was wolfish. "It can be very beautiful. I hope I can show you before you leave."

---

Mission: Jaws of the Jaguar, Part 28

Author's Notes: I've been waiting to write this one! Almost since the inception I've had my image of Mulder on the dance floor (you'll know what I mean when you come to it) and I couldn't shake it (not that I really WANTED to...) Hopefully this is like having a song stuck in your mind: now that I've done it, maybe I can move on to fresh fantasies. :)

Yes, I admit it. I LOVE DISCO! I'm sorry, but I was RAISED on it, people. That'll give you some idea of how old I am. My first car had an 8-track in it, okay? *bursts into Gloria Gaynor's 'I Will Survive.'* 'Fire' was by the Ohio Players, and It's Raining Men was by The Weather Girls. I don't own 'em, but I love 'em.

---

Clubbing

The club was called Rendevous, a fairly typical club name, for a fairly typical club. Oh, it was nice, but it wasn't anything you couldn't find in any other major city on the face of the globe. ("Except maybe Salt Lake City or Mecca," Fox had remarked as they entered.)

What it WAS, was exclusive. There was a line at the front door that would have done justice to Studio 54 back in its heyday. They pushed their way to the front of the crowd, Olivero using his superior bulk to clear a path. At the entrance, Manuel, Fox, and Ethan clustered behind him as he spoke to the large, stolid looking man who was in charge of the velvet rope across the doorway. When he saw Montana, his craggy face split in a fawning smile, and he began nodding before the other man started speaking. He glanced back over Olivero's shoulders at the three young men waiting, and said something in Spanish.

Olivero turned to Fox. "He said he would have let YOU in, even without me."

Fox was unimpressed. "Of course he would. He knows quality when he sees it."

A man who turned out to be the manager rushed to meet them as they entered, not quite bowing but obviously wanting to. Olivero looked to Galbraith and said, "Would you prefer a table or a booth?"

"I think Danny wants to be close to the action."

"Ah. And Daniel gets what he wants?" There was really nothing judgmental in the tone or words, but something about it made Ethan look at Olivero sharply.

"Most of the time. It makes me happy to make him happy."

"Of course." They were led to a table right beside the dance floor. Fox noticed that waiters were quickly hustling patrons away from it and clearing it as they approached. It was pristine when they arrived, and the former occupants had been reseated, grumbling slightly, further back.

Olivero noticed that Daniel was already moving subtly to the driving music that surrounded them. His eyes were fixed on the packed dance floor, watching the flow and sway of bodies. Ballard ordered a Tom Collins when he was asked, but he was so immersed in the music that he scarcely seemed to notice the drink when it was set before him.

Olivero watched the shift of his shoulders, the lively excitement on his face. "You wish to dance?"

"I HAVE to dance." He looked at his lover. "I can, can't I, Con? You're not going to make me sit here and listen to that music and not dance, are you?"

Ethan was hesitant. This was the one part of Daniel and Connor's life that they hadn't practiced, and he realized now that they should have. He had no idea whether or not Fox could pass as a seasoned club hopper. He'd been so buttoned down when they started this mission, he doubted it. "I don't know, Danny. We're here with Olivero--we shouldn't neglect him."

"Nonsense. It's obvious that the boy wants to dance, and tonight is for pleasure, not business." Olivero indicated Manuel. "My young one likes to dance, too. It would be cruel to keep them sitting here, Connor."

The first strains of 'Fire' by the Ohio Players started to thump out, and Fox moaned, grabbing Ethan's hand dramatically. "They're playing disco! Con, PLEASE!"

"Oh, all right! Get on with ya!"

Fox gave a whoop and sprang into the crowd. In seconds he had located a petite blonde girl who had been dancing solo and they started a spirited version of The Bump. Ethan watched, surprised. He knew Mulder could be graceful when he wanted to, but this was something of a revelation. Mulder had been so hesitant in the beginning of their sexual relations, but on the dance floor he was hot, and he knew it.

The two danced apart during the verses, together during the choruses. Ethan watched as Fox writhed to the words. "The way you walk and talk really sets me off to a full alarm..."

Mulder grinned back at the men sitting at the table, winking as his hips swayed. "The way you push, push let's me know that you're, oh," Mulder put his hands behind his head and bumped his hips at Ethan, inspiring a startled burst of laughter, "You're gonna get your wish."

Fox was having a better time than he had expected. He'd danced often at clubs back in D.C. but he'd never really let himself go all the way there. There was always the chance that word would get back to the bureau. Perhaps nothing official would have been done, but sometimes an agent's career stalled for no discernable reason. Here, in the guise of Daniel, he could be as wild as he wanted with the sure knowledge that it was all for a good cause.

There was another rather heady reason Mulder was having such a good time, even knowing how delicate the situation was. He had long known that he was a voyeur: his semi-addiction to pornography proved that well enough. He was just now finding out that he was a bit of an exhibitionist, too.

That song ended, and 'Waterloo', by ABBA started up. Mulder laughed, but kept on dancing. He continued through several songs, never seeming to tire, never lacking for dance partners, both male and female. Ethan swatted himself mentally for worrying. It was clear that Fox was in his element.

Olivero watched, fascinated. *He's so sure of himself, so aware of his power. He knows that everyone who looks at him tonight either wants him or envies him. I wonder what he would do if someone was to act on those desires?* He whispered to Manuel, who grinned and nodded, then got up and went on the dance floor.

He made his way over to where the American was dancing with a girl in a skirt so short that the entire room knew what type underwear she was wearing when the raised her arms, which she did often. Manuel slipped in between them and started dancing.

Fox never missed a beat, but he frowned at the younger man and mouthed the word, "Rude!" Then he moved around him to find his former partner again, smiling apologetically at the girl. Manuel pulled the same trick again, and the frown deepened.

The music died away and started again with 'Never Can Say Goodbye.' Apparently this wasn't a favorite, Olivero thought, because Daniel turned away from Manuel and stalked back to the table. He picked up his drink and downed half of it, then said snappishly to Olivero, "Your little friend is rather pushy."

"He likes you."

"Why shouldn't he? But if I'd wanted to dance with him, I'd have asked. I'll have plenty of time to dance with him while I'm cooped up in the jungle."

Ethan winced at the rudeness, and considered calling Danny/Fox on it, but Olivero was smiling. "I can't deny him his bit of fun, Daniel."

*Oh, there's something going on here,* Ethan thought, remembering the whispered conversation before Manuel had gone to dance.

"Well, I certainly can!" A different song was starting, one that had a background of thunder, and Fox's head jerked around, his face lighting up. "I don't believe it! Oh, this one is MINE!"

He plunged back into the crowd as the words started. "Hi! We're your Weather Girls. Ah-huh. And have we got news for you. You better listen! Get ready, all you lonely girls and leave those umbrellas at home. All right!."

Ethan wanted to whistle. *Damn, I only THOUGHT he was dancing before!* Fox was in the process of putting almost every other dancer on the floor to shame, and they noticed it.

"Humidify is rising. Barometer's getting low. According to all sources, the street's the place to go." The crowd started to thin out around him. Soon he had a fair sized audience gathered around as he dipped and spun joyously to the music as the Weather Girls adviced that the street was the place to go, because at about half past ten... Well, something WONDERFUL was due to happen.

Fox drew a cheer from the crowd when he threw his arms up, palms out and sang along with the chorus of the song. "It's Raining Men! Hallelujah! It's Raining Men! Amen! I'm gonna go out to run and let myself get absolutely soaking wet!"

Manuel had been part of the watching crowd. Now he stepped out and again began dancing with Fox. He received a glower, and Fox turned away from him. But as the song continued, Manuel kept up his pursuit. He moved in close to Fox, invading his personal space time and again. A murmur started in the crowd as his courtship became even more blatant, and Fox's disdain became more clear.

Finally Manuel made contact. He grabbed Fox around the waist and pulled him roughly against his body, thrusting their pelvises together aggressively. There was a gasp from the onlookers as Mulder tried to pull back and Manuel just clung tighter.

"I feel stormy weather moving in about to begin." Thunder was booming and crashing on the soundtrack when Mulder put his hands on Manuel's chest and shoved him violently. Manuel stumbled back a few steps, but he immediately leapt back. He grabbed Mulder's shirt and jerked hard, ripping it half open.

Ethan half rose, but Montana put a hand on his arm. "They're playing. Let them settle this themselves."

Mulder didn't strike the younger man, as Ethan thought he might. He glared at him, his hazel eyes so hot that they seemed to shoot gold sparks. Then to, a huge crash of thunder, he grabbed the edges of his shirt and tore it the rest of the way open, buttons spraying. As the Weather Girls sang, "Hear the thunder, don't you lose your head. Rip off the roof and stay in bed!" he slowly let the shirt slide down his arms, ending up hanging from its tail, tucked in his pants.

He was beautiful. Sweat gleamed on his chest and shoulders, and his hair was falling in his eyes. A hush of anticipation fell over the crowd. The music playing hinted of lightning, but there was electricity of a different sort in the club's air. "God bless Mother Nature, she's a single woman, too. She took off to heaven and she did what she had to do."

His eyes half closed, Mulder ran his hands sensually over his torso, skimming his palms over his nipples, which were hard with excitement, then down his belly to rest on his belt, toying with the buckle. Ethan tensed. He had heard that in the heyday of disco... hell, even today, some of the more uninhibited patrons stripped on the dance floor. It sounded like something Daniel would do, but did they want THAT much attention?

Manuel's eyes followed Mulder's hands avidly, and he licked his lips unconsciously. "She taught every angel to rearrange the sky. So that each and every woman could find her perfect guy."

His thumbs hooked in his waistband, Mulder raised one finger and waved it at Manuel in a 'naughty-naughty' gesture. In one smooth motion he pulled his shirt free of his waistband and threw it in Manuel's face, then started dancing again to the approving cheers of the crowd.

As the final chorus rang out, he danced his way back to the table, a slightly stunned Manuel following him, holding the shirt. Applause followed him. When he came to the table, Ethan stood up, slipping off his jacket, and put it around Mulder's shoulders. "There, love. Can't have you uncovered in this air conditioning after you've been sweating."

"Thank you, Con." Fox sat and drank the rest of his Collins. When Manuel sat opposite him he said coolly, "You owe me for that shirt."

Manuel bowed slightly. "Of course. May I apologize, Daniel? I am afraid I got carried away. But you were... intoxicating."

"I don't know." Fox leaned against Ethan, looking up at him. "CAN he apologize to me, Con? He's being very sweet."

"I suppose so. Though you should know, boyo, that if Danny was really mad, I'd be obliged to kick your ass."

"Of course."

"Well?" Fox leaned an elbow on the table, propping his chin in his hand. "You said you wanted to apologize."

Manuel smiled. "Senor Danny, I humbly beg your pardon for being such a... a..."

"Obnoxious little prick?"

Olivero and Ethan both smothered laughs, and Manuel shrugged sheepishly. "An obnoxious little prick."

"You're forgiven. Just remember next time: if I say no, I mean no."

Manuel thought privately that it would be interesting to see how much good that policy did him if Olivero decided that he wanted him. He watched as Connor pulled his lover over to sit on his lap, and Daniel wound his arms around the Irishman's neck. He shifted slightly now and then, and it was apparent that Galbraith had become aroused watching the show his lover put on.

He wasn't the only one. Manuel had started to get hard the moment he'd ripped Daniel's shirt. The exhibition had only increased his heat. Now he watched Danny squirming his rump against Connor's obvious erection, and he got even harder. Connor was murmuring in his boyfriend's ear. His hand moved into the open jacket and he tweaked Daniel's nipples drawing a soft moan.

Manuel felt a large, hot hand grip his thigh firmly, and looked over at Olivero. His master's eyes were firmly fixed on the couple on the other side of the table, but his hand moved to the inside of Manuel's leg, seeking. When he didn't find what he was looking for along Manuel's thigh, he moved higher. He came to Manuel's crotch, and discovered the firm bulge that said he did not need to be coaxed to attention. He gave a rough, approving squeeze, and Manuel moaned, too. He was going to be well fucked again tonight, that much was sure. Olivero would be like a bull after witnessing this little show.

Connor sat back, licking his lips, and said, "Olivero, would it be all right if we went on home now? It's not that we're unsociable, it's just that Danny is... tired." Daniel laid his head on Connor's shoulder, giving the other men a wide-eyed look.

"Of course. Manuel is tired, also." This time it was Mulder who gave Manuel a small smile of shared understanding. That smile said 'We're BOTH going to get it good tonight, aren't we?'

As they rose to go, Connor said, "Shouldn't we get the check?"

"Why?"

Ethan could come up with no argument for that. They walked out past three waiters, the manager, and the bouncer, and no one said anything. In the car back to the hotel, this time, Manuel had the front seat to himself. Fox sat between Olivero and Ethan, cuddling close to his lover.

Olivero could feel the heat of his body, smell the sharp tang of sweat mixed with cologne. It was all he could do not to touch him, but he managed. It didn't stop him from fantasizing, though. He imagined grabbing Daniel, throwing him across his lover's lap and ripping his pants open, then shoving his legs open and back till they were against his shoulders and mounting him dry. He pictured that handsome, arrogant face twisting first in pain, then lust, for he had no doubt that he could make Daniel Ballard enjoy whatever he chose to do to him.

By the time they dropped the American and Irishman off at their hotel, he was so hard that he was aching. He got into the front seat with Manuel. As they drove off, he opened his lover's fly, shoved his hand in, and began to stroke him, hard. Manuel tried to keep his attention on the road, but it wasn't easy. Twice he almost ran into a parked car, but he knew better than to protest.

When he finally parked in front of their apartment, he was ready to scream. Olivero was fighting with Manuel's belt. "Tilt the damn wheel up!" he demanded. Manuel hit the switch, and the steering wheel tilted up a few inches. At the same time he shifted, half turning so that his lap was moved out from under the wheel.

It was barely in time. Olivero had wrestled his rigid prick through his fly and now he fell upon it, seeming intent on devouring his young lover. Manuel cried out and grabbed at the headrest and the dash, bracing himself as Olivero raked him roughly with his teeth, but he did not soften at all. Knowing what was desired, he began to fuck upward as hard as he could in this position, driving his cock deep into Olivero's throat. This was at least one instance where his master's desires coincided perfectly with his own.

Montana sucked hard, biting occasionally. It was not enough to draw blood, not this time, though it had happened before. It didn't really matter. Manuel was his whore and he took what was given. In any case, he enjoyed it. Olivero knew this because if he was too gentle over a period of time, Manuel would deliberately provoke him, demanding the rougher treatment.

Soon Manuel came, gasping and sobbing as he shot down Olivero's throat. He fell back limply as Montana sat back from him, wiping his mouth with a monogrammed handkerchief. When he could breathe again, Manuel reached for Montana to return the favor, but was startled when his hands were slapped away.

When he looked more closely at his lover, he knew why. There was a dark, wet patch on the crotch of Montana's pants. Montana watched Manuel closely, waiting to see what his response would be.

Manuel was silent. Olivero Montana had come in his pants while sucking off his boy whore. This was not something that he would want known by anyone, even Manuel. Manuel followed the wisest course of action. He made his expression contrite and said sincerely, "Master, I am so sorry that I failed to arouse you." The dangerous light faded from Olivero's eyes, and Manuel heaved a mental sigh of relief.

"It is nothing, Manuel." He patted the boy's cheek. "But you... Did you enjoy yourself?"

He smiled brilliantly. "Oh, yes, master."

"What do you think of those two now?"

"I want to fuck the American more than ever."

Olivero laughed. "Yes, he asks for it, that one. His words are cold, but his eyes and his body..." Olivero made that odd sucking sound that so many Latino men used to express admiration, or lust. "Galbraith is interesting, too, but Daniel... Daniel wants it." His eyes grew distant, and his voice was dreamy. "They all want it."

Manuel was quiet. It wasn't safe to deal with Montana when he was in this mood. It had something to do with his past, Manuel was sure, but he didn't know WHAT. There were parts of his history that Montana did not talk about, dark areas. And who knew what horrors crawled in those dark corners?

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