Mission: Jaws of the Jaguar

Mission: Jaws of the Jaguar, Chapter Thirteen

Mission: Jaws of the Jaguar Chapter ThirteenMeeting Casa de los Vientos del Susurro. House of the Whispering Winds. The name appealed to Connor's romantic Celtic nature. And it was fitting. The resort was in a sheltered, relatively tourist free area of Rio. It had a private beach and the constant breezes were gentle and refreshing. They did, indeed, whisper through the sheltering trees.

He'd a b a bit of business to see to here in Rio de Janeiro, but it hadn't taken long to conduct. He'd decided to indulge in a bit of rest and relaxation as long as he was there. No point in having money if you didn't enjoy it, he thought.


Usually you had to have reservations far in advance to get space at the Casa. But another perk of his line of work was an extensive network of contacts. He'd made a few phone calls, and suddenly the hotel had found that they did, indeed, have a room available. They apologized profusely that it was not a suite, but Connor magnanimously told them it didn't matter. He was alone at the present, and a single room would ine.ine.


Of course, just because he was alone didn't mean he intended to STAY alone. He was certain he wouldn't have much trouble finding a playmate. If not at the resort itself, then in a nearby club. Rio seemed to attract a remarkably high average of pretty people.


Connor didn't make an effort to get anyone into bed that first night, just enjoying the peace, resting up. He'd have plenty of energy to devote to his chosen conquest later.


That morning he awoke early. He was in a ground floor room, and french doors looked out on a tiny, private garden. He'd left the glass open, and the morning breeze was wafting the heavy, sweet scent of jasmine through his room. A call to room service brought breakfast. In defference to the local customs, he forwent his usual hearty breakfast in favor of croissants and café au lait. Then he showered and got into his vacation clothes.


He'd been in nothing but suits the last week or so, and it was a relief to wear something casual: loose white cotton pants and shirt, with simple sandals. It almost looked like a sttypitypical Mexican peon costume, except that it had cost more than most peons would earn in a year's time.


He could have had the morning papers delivered to his room with his breakfast, but instead he went to the lobby to pick them up. He liked to people watch, and the lobby of a resort hotel in a jet set hot spot was excellent people watching territory.


Connor got several papers from the new stand, including one from Dublin that they'd brought in specially for him, and chose a comfortable seat where he had a good view of the entire lobby. He read the papers, and watched the comings and goings.


It was a little slow, what with the early hour. Most of the guests didn't stir till almost noon. He rather liked the feel of having the place almost to himself.


A taxi pulled up outside, and a bellman hurried out to assist thw guw guests. Another quickly joined him when he saw the number of bags that were being unloaded from the car.


Two men got out of the cab and entered the lobby. The older one, a thick set man in his fifties, went directly to the registration desk. The other, a tall young man, lingered near the door, surveying the lobby through a pair of very dark sunglasses. Connor studied him over the top of his paper.


He was probably in his late twenties, a few years older than Connor himself. He was long limbed, but there was little of the awkwardness usually associated with that body type. He hhickhick brown hair, falling messily over his forehead, and as Connor watched, he pushed at it impatiently, long fingered hands raking through it to make it even more disheveled.


Connor wished he'd take off the sunglasses, so he could have a better look at his face. He liked what he saw so far. There were high cheekbones, and a determined jaw. the the mouth... Oh, yes. The mouth. Beautifully formed, with a full lower lip. Sulky. It looked made for pouting, and that was what he was doing right now.


He leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, chin tucked, glowering toward his companion. He wasn't pleased about something. This conclusion was confirmed when the older man called sharply, "Daniel! Quit moping and get over here."


Daniel pushed off from the wall and slouched reluctantly over to join his friend, leaning against the counter when he arrived. "I'm getting sick of this sullen shit, Daniel. Quit acting like a child. I got us the best suite the place has."


"I don't see why we had to come here." The voice has a soft southern accent, not quite a drawl. "We could have stayed at the Tallbridge in the city. It would've been closer to your business."


"And you would have been right in the middle of all the city clubs. I don't think so."


Ah, so he'd been right in his first assesment of the relationship. This was a 'boy' and his 'daddy'.

ou'rou're always busy," Daniel complained. "It's bad enough you're gone all day. But you take evening meetings, too."


"I have to, you know that."


"Yeah, well, it doesn't keep me from being bored. I just want to have a little fun."


The man's voice was cold. "I know the kind of fun you have, Daniel." He went back to filling out forms.


Daniel fidgeted for a moment, then said, "I don't know why you insisted I come. I could've just stayed home, for all the time you're going to spend with me."
he ohe older man grabbed his wrist, squeezing, and Daniel winced. Connor heard a crinkle, and found to his surprise that he had crumpled the newspaper in clenched fists. "After what you did last time I left you alone? I don't think so. You're going to stay here, where I can keep an eye on you, and you can't get up to your tricks."


Daniel's voice was so low Connor almost couldn't hear it, "Andy, we're in public."


Andy released him, and Daniel rubbed his wrist. "You donave ave to be so damn macho about it. I said I was sorry. Have you got our rooms? I want to go freshen up. I'm bummed out from the trip. We could have at least taken a later flight, so I wouldn't have such jet lag."


"Bitch, bitch, bitch. The manager is an old friend, I'm going to step back and have a word with him. You'll stay here till I'm ready to go with yoHe lHe looked at the waiting bellmen. "Take our things up." Then he went behind the desk and was ushered into a back office.


Daniel remained leaning against the counter, a petulant scowl on his face, as the porters gathered up the baggage and left. Then he walked over to one of the lobby chairs and threw himself into it, slouching in a loose limbed sprawl. Again he folded his arms across his chest, as if to show the world how very, very displeased he was with the way things were being run.


Daniel was in the middle of a deep, but not quite profound, funk. Andrew was really becoming impossible these days. Imagine, dragging him along on a business trip just because he thought he couldn't trust him.


What really bothered him was that his paramour was getting increasingly violent. Oh, Andrew had never been what could be called gentle by any stretch of the imagination. But lately... lately what Daniel thought of as 'the episodes' were increasing. That last time... Daniel had been genuinely frightened. He'd used one of his riding crops. The marks had only recently faded.


Daniel had accepted a certain amount of rough handling as the price he paid for his en len lifestyle. He even enjoyed the milder forms of control and discipline. But Andrew Yarborough was taking it farther and farther. It was moving into the realm of pathology, and Daniel honestly didn't know what to do about it. There was a thrill in submitting yourself to someone strong and masterful, but not if there was the likelihood of being really hurt.


Daniel was an attractive man. People had stared at him from a very early age, and he could sense when someone interested was watching. He felt that familiar, warm prickle now, and looked around to see who might be watching. His eyes settled on a man sitting a few yards away, half hidden by a potted palm. He was looking over the top of a rumpled newspaper, and he had just the greenest eyes--like the best grade of jade, but warmer than the stone.


When he saw Daniel looking, the paper lowered a bit more. My, oh my. That was one almost ridiculously good looking man. He couldn't help but wonder idly if maybe they were having a fashion shoot in the area. He certainly looked good enough to be one of the models. Though, come to think of it, he didn't have that vapid, self absorbed air Daniel had come to expect with professionally pretty people. His eyes were much too sharp.


Then he smiled, and Daniel felt an immediate sweep of warmth. The smile was just a little crooked, the teeth not quite perfect, and it was devastating. "Hullo."


He really shouldn't talk to this man, he knew that. There was no telling what might set Andrew off these days, and he was just in the other room. But this was all so perfectly innocent, and the man seemed friendly, and he was lonely, and bored, dammit. "Hi."


The man accepted his response as an invitation to talk. He folded the paper, and got up, coming over. Daniel was careful to keep his expression neutral, but he watched him move with appreciation. There was a nice, taut body under those loose clothes, and he moved with fluid, catlike grace.


He held out a hand. "I'm Connor Galbraith. And you're Daniel."


Daniel shook. The grip was firm, the hand warm. "Daniel Ballard. You're from Ireland." There was a musical lilt to the man's accent, like the subtle flavor of peat smoke in a good whiskey.


"Aye, that I am. Dubliner by birth. And you, you're from the south, eh?"


Daniel found himself smiling faintly. "Is it that obvious?"


Connor shrugged, ng ang a chair beside him. "You sound like your words have been dipped in warm honey and butter."


Daniel felt a distinct tingle. How long had it been since anyone had talked to him like this? He laughed ruefully. `"Andy says I sound like a hayseed."


"I don't know Andy, so I'll reserve judgement. Maybe he's just teasing."


Daniel's smile faded. "No, he's not."


"And who is Andy, exactly?"


"Andrew Yarborough."


"All right, that's his name. But who is he, to you?"


Daniel hesitated. He removed his sunglasses, touching the earpiece to his lips thoughtfully, and regarded Connor. His eyes were hazel, what his Ma used to call `cat eyes', able to shift shade with what he wore. Later Connor would learn that this was true of his emotions, too. They could grow darker with anger, or passion. In fact, Connor thought, there was something distinctly feline about Daniel Ballard.


Finally Daniel said quietly, "He's my lover." Simple, direct, unashamed. Connor liked that. He liked it a lot. "He... takes care of me."


"Does he take good care of you?"


Daniel's expression went blank, and he slid the shades back on. "I shouldn't be talking to you. Andy wouldn't like it. I'm sorry."


He stood up, but Connor caught his wrist. Daniel stopped, and repressed a shiver. This was so much different than the way Andrew had touched him. It was gentle, almost tender. He was looking up at Daniel with those intense green eyes. He said quietly, "Andy won't be here all the time, will he?"


Now Daniel did shiver. He found himself answering, "No. He won't."


Connor let go, and Daniel moved quickly to the desk, leaning once again on the counter. It was a good thing that he did, for a few seconds later, Andrew Yarborough emerged from the back office, chatting with the manager.


He looked at his young lover sharply. It wasn't like Daniel to meekly obey orders. He had probably been up to something. Andrew scanned the loband and located a possible source of trouble.


That one over there, by the palm. He had a paper up before his face, but he could tell by looking at him that he had a lean, well proportioned body. If he didn't have the face of a gargoyle, then Andrew's little slut would probably be interested. But he remembered that he mustn't make a scene in public, and said mildly, "What have you been up to?"


Daniel peered at him over the top of his sunglasses. "I'm in the middle of a public lobby, jet lagged. What could I do? I waited for my prince to come."


Yarborough frowned, and said quietly, "That mouth isn't meant for making smart remarks, Danny. Maybe when we get to the room I'll remind you of what it is meant for."


Andrew heard a rustle, and looked over to see the man in white peering at him over the paper, which was much more crumpled than it should have been. He had green eyes, which were like chips of ice, and he didn't look anything like a gargoyle. Yarborough gripped the back of Daniel's neck, and the younger man stiffened. "Yes, I'd say it's time for a reminder."


He pushed his lover before him toward the elevator, casting a hard look back at the dark haired man in the chair. The look said clearly, This is mine. No trespassing. The other man didn't look away at all.


When the elevator doors slid closed, Yarborough swung Daniel around, banging him against the wall. Daniel yelped. "What did I do?"


"Don't play innocent, Danny. You haven't been innocent since before you had hair around your dick. What did you say to that man? What did he say to you?" He grabbed the taller man's chin, squeezing roughly. "Did he touch you?"


"For God's sake, Andy! I was just in the same room with him, nothing happened!"


"Are you sure about that?"


"I think I'd be able to tell by now."


Andrew slapped him, rocking his head to the side. Daniel cringed, holding his hand to the smarting spot, and praying this wouldn't be too bad. "What did I tell you about that smart mouth, Danny?"


The doors slid open, and he grabbed his lover by the shirt front and dragged him stumbling into the corridor. Their suite was nearby, and Andrew had the card key ready.


Inside the suite, he wasted no time. He shoved Daniel to his knees. Daniel knew what was expected, and didn't hesitate. Hesitation could bring reprisals. He quickly unbuckled Andrew's belt and lowered his zi.
.


For once he was grateful for those awful, baggy cotton boxers Andrew wore; they made it easier for him to work his rigid cock free of the cloth so he could get to it. With no preliminaries, he lowered his mouth onto the turgid organ and took in as much as he could, starting to suck strongly.


Personally, he enjoyed all the little tricks and techniques of foreplay. He would have liked to offer a slow, teasing blow job, complete with a multitude of gentle nibbles and licks, but that wasn't what this was all about. This wasn't love making. This pun punishment. He knew that, but it was brought home when Andrew buried his hands in his hair and jerked him forward, shoving hard at the same time.


Daniel tried to keep quiet, but he couldn't help a little whine. It hurt, and Andrew knew that. Apparently the whine was considered disobedience, because it earned him a rough twist of the hair that brought tears to his eyes. Good. Andrew liked it when he cried. Maybe it would end more quickly.


Daniel tried to make his mind a blank, and concentrated on just breathing. He'd never been able to easily managedp thp throating Andrew, and he knew that angered the older man. He couldn't help it. Perhaps if Andrew would go slower, be more patient... But he didn't, and he wasn't. Daniel had given up hoping for that a long time ago.


Daniel just grabbed Andrew's hips to support himself, and tried to ride it out. It wouldn't last long, it never did, thank God. He was sure that he truly would have suffocated by now if Andrew had any more stamina, because he never slowed or stopped.


Andrew drove himself in and out of his lover's mouth, relishing the heat and wetness, gloating over the submission. He owned this beautiful young man, could do whatever he liked with him. He'd wanted Daniel since he had been a child, but he'd kept his hands to himself, waiting for the boy to reach legal age. Then, when he turned eighteen, Danny had just disappeared from his family his his social circle.


Andrew had been furious. Though he'd never made an advance, he felt as if he'd been deserted, betrayed. Then, four years later, he'd found him again. He'd spotted him at the Belmont Stakes, in a crowd of the wilder young people of their set. Heart pounding, Andrew had gone over to him, tapping him on the shoulder. Daniel had turned beautiful, blank hazel eyes on him, then they had lit with recognition. "Uncle Andy! That's right, you have a horse in this race don't you?"


They'd talked, and made a date for supper later that evening. He asked around. He found out that Daniel had been living with an older man up until a week or so before. He swore that he would move slowly, seduce the boy.


But that evening, on the way back from their meal, he'd pulled the car into an alley and fallen upon him. Daniel had made breathless, laughing protests, but in the end he had lain quietly while Andrew humped himself to completion against his thigh, ruining his fine silk pants. When it was done, Andrew had zipped up, apologized, and offered to replace the ruined garment. The next day he bought Daniel an Armani suit. A week later, he set him up in an apartment.


The memory of that first hot, fumbling tryst inflamed Andrew even more, and he began to fuck Daniel's mouth in earnest. It wasn't easy, and was almost as painful for him as it surely was for Daniel, but he forced himself all the way inside, probably bruising the young man's throat muscles, and not caring. He felt hot tears drip on his groin, and and came explosively.


Daniel swallowed frantically, knowing better than to try to pull away, and the added sensation drove Andrew nearly crazy. He jabbed again and again, till he was totally spent, and Daniel was making desperate choking noises.


Finally he withdrew his limp cock, and shoved, hard. Daniel sprawled on the floor at his feet, and curled up into a ball, hugging himself. He was coughing and crying, trembling. Andrew watched him impassively, then said, "Why do you make me do this to you, Danny?" Daniel kept crying. "Answer me! Why do you make me do this?"


Daniel's voice was hoarse and weak, "I don't know, Andy. I'm sorry." He was wracked by a more violent sob. "I'm so sorry."


Andrew nodded in satisfaction. The little bitch had been shown his place again. He left him there on the floor and went to take a shower.


When he was sure the other man had left the room, Daniel managed to push himself to his feet, staggered over to the wet bar and vomited in the sink. Once he finished retching, he carefully rinsed away all evidence, and squeezed a lemon down the drain to hide the smell. It would be dangerous for Andy to know that he'd sicked up what he had given him.

Then he went into the bedroom, stripped, and crawled into bed, praying that the episode in the living room had been enough to satisfy Andrew for now. He just wasn't up to anything else. He went to sleep with tears streaking his face, and dreamed about green eyes.