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Mission: Jaws of the Jaguar	By : Scribe Category: S through Z > X-Files Views: 1882 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the television series that this fanfiction is written for, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Mission: Jaws of the Jaguar

Chapter Seventeen
Testing
notes pico chipero: little male prostitute. ninfo: faggot. Literally, male nymph. jugar a los dos bandos : to swing both ways; to be bisexual

Casa de los Vientos del Susurro had seen more than it's share of young couples falling in love, and more than one couple with the need to be discrete about their relationship. Daniel and Connor fit both descriptions.

They stepped out into the now gentle rain, and let the natural shower wash away the traces of their passion. They gently rubbed the sticky residue of sperm off each other's bodies, kissing softly all the while, shielded from prying eyes by the tent that stood between them and the hotel.

Between them and the world, it seemed to Connor. As much as he wanted to stay in the beach side tent, just holding his Daniel and shutting out the world, things would have to be dealt with at some point. Daniel walked up to the hotel first. He looked so alone, trudging with his head bowed against the rain, that it was all Connor could do not to run and scoop him into his arms, Yarborough's spies be damned. But he couldn't do that, because it was Daniel who would have to face the consequences.

Connor waited a good fifteen minutes before making his way back to the main building. A bellman, lounging near the entrance, bored with waiting for a guest to arrive and need assistance, watched him approach. Where had this one come from? He wished he hadn't been looking at the chamber maid's tits, or he might have seen which direction the Irishman had come from. Senor Yarborough was paying well to have an eye kept on his pico chipero.

Ah, now THAT was a real ninfo, that one! An ass that almost made Pedro sorry that he didn't jugar a los dos bandos. He bet that ass was tighter than most cunts. But neither of the men who were interested in it seemed inclined to share. Pedro grinned engagingly at the dripping green eyed man. "Senor! Have you been out in this rain all this time?"

Connor looked at him shrewdly, wiping water from his face. "I sheltered under some trees. Daft, I know, what with that lightenin', but there it is." Careful, Connor m'lad. Danny says Yarborough has his eyes out. I wonder how much he's payin' this one, and if it would be worth while to try and better the offer? Ah, well. If he asked, the man would know for sure that something was up with Danny boy. Better to leave him with suspicions rather than firm convictions.

It was just as well that Connor took that tact, because Pedro decided not to mention the Irishman to Senor Yarborough. He'd just say that his toy had spent some time on the beach, sulking alone in the tent.

Connor wouldn't have been able to bribe Pedro. While he might have offered more cash, the yankee was the hotel manager's friend, and HE controlled not only Pedro's job, but those of several of his family members. Money wouldn't have been enough to make the Brazilian risk the livelihood of so many, and he didn't know Connor well enough to worry about his physical well being if he crossed the Irishman.

He went to his room and got into his clothes. It was chilly, and Connor turned off the air conditioner, and slid open the door out into his garden, letting the fresh, rain scented breeze blow through. He stretched out on his bed, hands tucked beneath his head, and stared up at the ceiling much as he had the night before. The difference was that now he had memories instead of fantasies. And Daniel was so much more than the fantasies.

He smiled to himself, remembering Daniel curled, warm and near naked on his lap, softly sucking at his throat. Connor fingered the slightly sore patch. He'd have a bruise there, all right, he thought with satisfaction. And Yarborough had no reason to know who had given it.

Three days, he'd said. Well, that wasn't much, but it was sufficient. He could make Daniel Ballard love him in three days, he had no doubt.

When Andrew returned that evening, he found Daniel dressed to go out, but lying across the bed on his stomach, chin propped on handhands. They usually DIDN'T go out these days, but his boy knew enough to be ready to comply with his daddy's impulses, whatever they were.

Yarborough went over and sat on the bed beside the man he considered to be his property. "Hello, Daniel. How was your day?"

Daniel didn't move, just slanting his eyes sideways at him. "Boring."

"You could have read a book."

"I can read a book anywhere, Andy. I'm in Rio. I didn't want to come in the first place, but now that I'm here, it's deathly being restricted to the hotel."

Andrew laid a hand on his back, and felt Ballard stiffen slightly. He frowned. Danny always seemed to be tense these days when he touched him. It was irritating, and a little insulting. Andrew Yarborough didn't take well to either.

But he resisted the urge, magnanimously he thought, to cuff his lover on the back of the head. Instead, he started to stroke Daniel's back. "I just can't trust you out in public away from me, Danny. I tell you what, we'll go down to the hotel bar tonight. How will that be?"

Almost as bad as staying in, if it wasn't for the fact that Connor will probably be there. He made his voice interested when he replied. "That would be nice. Do they have a band?"

"I think so. But you're not dancing." Now Daniel turned his head, giving him a sour look. "No, Danny. I'm not having everyone looking at you shake your butt."

"Why not? I know you like to show me off. You get that gloating `you can look, but you can't touch' expression on your face." This time Andrew did cuff Daniel, a medium strength slap to the side of the head. Damn, I gotta be more careful. I can't just say whatever I feel, not with Andrew. "I'm sorry." The words had become almost a reflex. Daniel wondered when that had happened.

"All right." Andrew continued to rub Daniel's back. It wasn't to give any pleasure or comfort to the other man, it was simply a gesture while he thought, like doodling, and Daniel knew it. Then he felt Andrew's hand, palm flat, start to slide under his waistband in back, and he knew what he was thinking about. It wouldn't be so bad if it was because he wanted to fuck me, but it isn't. It's because he wants to know if someone else fucked me.

He'd been through this before, when Andy was suspicious, so he knew that it would be best if he just laid there and took it. "Open your pants, Danny." Silently Daniel lifted his hips far enough to allow his hands to slip under. He undid his belt and button, pulling down his zipper, then lay back quietly, preparing himself for what was coming.

Andrew worked the garments down Daniel's thighs, and paused for a moment to admire the white, perfect globes. Daniel had an ass like a deeply cleft peach. He'd lost count of the times he'd felt compelled to sink his teeth into that smooth perfection, drawing a cry of pain.

The older man massaged Daniel's buttocks. "Were you a good boy today?"

Daniel closed his eyes, hating this. Why do you ask? You never believe me. But he knew what was expected. "Yes, Uncle Andy. I was real good."

"Let's see." He gripped, sinking his thumbs into the crease, and pried Daniel open roughly. The boy winced, but said nothing. He knew that the painful part was still to come.

I don't enjoy this Yarborough lied to himself. It's necessary, and it's for his own good. It keeps him honest. Well, as honest as a whore like Danny can be.

Andrew bent close and looked. The anus was tiny anckerckered, as always when Daniel hadn't been fucked for awhile. But then, Ballard was remarkably resilient. Andrew had learned that over the years. There was only one way to be sure that someone hadn't gotten in where they shouldn't, and even THAT wasn't one hundred per cent, if they'd used a condom.

But he still had to test. Daniel tried to relax, willing his muscles to loosen, soften. If he just had a little more time to prepare himself... But then, that was the whole point of this exercise. He wasn't supposed to be ready for it.

He felt the firouchouch against the tight flesh, and was grateful that Andrew had gotten a manicure yesterday at the barber shop. He scarcely had time to think this when Andrew shoved, hard. He rammed one thick, blunt finger all the way into Danny's dry back passage, and Daniel couldn't contain the whimper of pain. Damn, it hurt!

Andrew felt his cock stiffen, listening to the sound of discomfort made by the man impaled on his finger. Daniel was tight, and dry, so he probably hadn't had sex. That was all he could hope to learn by this. There was no need to take it any further. No need... except that he wanted to.

He pulled back and rammed in again, watching as Daniel dropped his face to the mattress, his hands fisting in the sheet beside his head. He'd known a long time ago that Daniel would never love him, and he accepted that as best he could. He couldn't make Danny love him, but he could make him feel.

He crammed in a second finger, sawing them in and out brutally. Daniel was gasping and trembling, trying not to make any more noises that might anger him. Good, that was how it should be. His very being should be concentrated on keeping Andrew happy.

Partially to reward him for his submission, but mostly to add a bit more humiliation, Andrew crooked his fingers, pushed even harder, and found Danny's prostate. Daniel jerked, eyes flying open in horror. Oh, dear God, no! Not that.

Every now and then Andrew got it into his mind to make Daniel come, strictly for reasons of his own, of course. And he always did it in the most debasing and rough manner possible. Unfortunately, this was a way that Danny couldn't combat, even by passive resistance. "Uncle Andy, please," he breathed.

"Sure, Danny. Sure."

Is he willfully misunderstanding, or is he really that delusional? Andrew hit his prostate again, and Daniel almost cried as he felt his cock starting to harden. The damn nerve endings had no time for nonsense like romance when they were being stimulated. All he could do was endure.

At least it never lasted long. Andrew was now massaging the little gland steadily. Wave after wave of impossibly intense sensation was sweeping over Daniel, making him sweat, making his hear race. But it was only pleasure in the most primitive, biological sense. By no means was Daniel Ballard enjoying this. But when Andrew whispered, sking if it felt good, he responded, "Oh, yes, daddy! Yes!" and cursed himself for a coward and a liar. Forgive me, Con. I can't help it. I have to.

His dick was hard as a rock now, pre seminal fluid dampening the spread beneath him. The cloth was cool and silky beneath his tender, heated flesh, and he wanted desperately to hump against it, get this over more quickly. But he couldn't do anything without permission, not if he didn't want serious pain. So far Andrew had only talked about fisting. Daniel wasn't about to risk pushing him into a decision by acting without express approval. He didn't think he'd survive a fisting session with Andrew.

He moaned. That didn't take any real acting ability, not with the combination of pain and forced passion he was experiencing. Daniel rolled his head to look back at the man ravaging his ass, trying to make his expression lustful, his voice hot. "Please, daddy, can I jerk off?"

Andrew grinned at him, his hand moving even more strongly. "Is that what you want, son?"

God, he really gets off on this pseudo incestuous pedophilia play. Thank God he never had children. "Please, daddy, please. With sugar on it?"

"Only naughty boys play with themselves."

"No, daddy, I'm a good boy. It just feels so good. Pretty please."

"You have to be special nice to daddy later."

"I know. I will."

"All right." Daniel gritted his teeth as Andrew pulled free, emptying his anal passage. "Show daddy how you play with yourself."

Daniel's face was burning with anger, sorrow, and shame, but he knew that Andrew, self involved Andrew, would interpret it as passion. He rolled onto his back, his rigid cock swaying. Spreading his legs as far as his still on pants would allow, he slowly and sensually licked his hands, wetting the palms and fingers.

Andrew watched avidly. Daniel was better than any pornographic tape he'd ever seen. He'd thought about filming him for later enjoyment, but the ever present possibility of blackmail always stopped him.

Once his hands were sufficiently wet, Daniel reached down and grasped himself firmly. Clear precum drizzled from his pee slit, and he slicked it over his straining flesh. Added to his saliva, it made his hands slide smoothly. No chafing. He started to stroke, his rhythm quicker than he would have liked, personally. But Andrew liked things fast, and the quicker this was over...the quicker it was over.

He closed his eyes, pumping with one hand, and reaching down with the other to tickle the sensitive spot just behind his balls. He heard the rasp of a zipper, then the slap of flesh on flesh as Andrew began to masturbate, watching him. Let this be enough, Lord. Please don't let him want to climb in the saddle. Please, not this time. Not when I can still feel Connor on top of me.

And that was how he was going to get through. It's not Andy sitting there beside me, it's Con. Beautiful Con, sweet Con. Con, who says he loves me. Con, who cares how I feel. Connor, who can just hold me.

Daniel was hot tonight, Andrew thought, stroking himself briskly. He usually seemed almost reluctant to get turned on by these little sessions, but tonight... His face was flushed and intent, eyes squeezed shut, mouth softly open. As Andrew watched, the tip of his talented pink tongue crept out and wet his full lower lip, leaving it glistening. Andrew grunted, his hand speeding up.

In Danny's mind, all he had to do was open his eyes, and he would be looking up into Connor's tender green gaze. One hand left his throbbing prick to glide across his chest, plucking at his own nipples. Connor's hands, fingers long and elegant. He knows just how to touch me, he can find all the sweet spots.

The young man's hips began to lift as he fucked up into his own hand. He was moaning steadily now. Andrew's voice was thick with lust. hathat's it, you whore! Squeeze your prick harder! You love it. You can't live without a man's touch. Come for me."

Damn you, Andrew, don't talk! Let me pretend. And I'm going to come, Uncle Andy, but it damn sure won't be for you. This is for you, my sweet Con.

Then he was climaxing, hot, milky spurts of sperm bathing his hand and belly and he was gasping, beginning to call Connors name. Catching himself, the terror of what he'd almost done giving a spurt of adrenalin that made his orgasm even more powerful, Daniel changed `Connor' into, "Ca- can't stop, daddy! Oooh..." his voice rose in a wail of mingled release and frustration, a maddening combination. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

Andrew knelt up beside him quickly, maneuvering himself so that he shot his load onto Daniel's heaving belly. Daniel lay staring up at him as he milked his softening cock, stripping the last of his seed. Triumph did not have to be an ugly thing, if it was not achieved at the expense of others. But that was never the case with Andrew Yarborough.

In a moment, Andrew got a wad of tissues and cleaned himself off. Then he grabbed a handful of Daniel's hair and shook his head with what could almost pass for brusque affection. "Go get cleaned up. And make yourself pretty. You're right. I do like to show you off."

"Yes, daddy." Daniel pulled his pants up as much as he could without soiling them and hobbled into the bathroom, hating the awkwardness of the situation. He got a cloth, soaked it in warm water, and wiped the mess off his stomach. For a moment, he paused, remembering his come mingling with Connor's that afternoon. Sliding his fingers in it, tasting their combined flavors, and watching Connor as he'd licked the creamy stuff off Daniel's fingers like it had been his favorite treat.

For a moment, Daniel put his head down on the sink and cried. He'd gotten very good at crying without making noise.

Then he washed his face, made himself decent, and started to comb his hair. He'd been ordered to make himself pretty. Connor might be there tonight. Daniel intended to be fucking gorgeous.
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Mission: Jaws of the Jaguar