Author's Notes: 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.

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?