Jensen’s wired, which is never a good thing for the team in general and Cougar in particular. Someone forgot to swap his caffeine to caffeine-free and that person will, eventually, pay since it’s their one day off. Cougar watches covertly from his spot of the threadbare room, slowly sharpening his knife on a whetstone as Jensen dances in place while listening to his headphones. Crazy, wild dance moves that look more like epilepsy than dancing and would probably get someone hurt on an actual dance floor.

The others are out somewhere, drinking probably. Exile seems to be hardest on the Roque, when it really should be hardest on Pooch, who has a pregnant wife waiting at home. There’s a lot of alcohol these days, between Clay and Roque, and Cougar wonders how long before one of them snaps altogether. Roque, probably. He’s never been big on not getting his way.

Jensen’s shirt rides up on a particularly spastic move and Cougar’s eyes lock on the sliver of pale, firm skin. His knife misses the stone and slices through the fleshy part of his thumb. The burn of the cut takes a moment to hit and then he hisses and sucks on it automatically. It’s the little cuts that bleed the most, sometimes, and he doesn’t feel like having Jensen pass out by witnessing a little blood.

Cougar sheathes the dagger in the ankle holster with a click and stands, abruptly walking over to bring his hands down hard on Jensen’s shoulders.

Jensen yelps and spins around, eyes wide behind his glasses. “What?”

“We’re going out,” Cougar tells him.

“But I’m…”

Cougar just pushes him to the door, ignoring the protests. He mutters to himself in Spanish about crazy white people who need to be shown how to dance, not even caring that Jensen understands every single word. By the time they get to the humidity of the street, Jensen’s grinning and bouncing along beside him, still hyper, instead of needing to be pushed.

“Where are we going? You know a club? Of course you know a club. Hey, I’m not really dressed right. Can we just run back and, no? Okay, ooof!”

Cougar pushes him into a cab and rattles off an address to the cabbie. The man smirks and it’s an ugly one until Cougar really looks at him. The cabbie swallows nervously and the car pulls smoothly away from the curb.

The ride doesn’t take long. Of course, nothing does in that city, it’s so crowded. This part of the city, though, is darker and more crowded than usual. This kind of club isn’t in any directory and only those who won’t kick the shit out of you for being a certain way know about it. If you aren’t known, you don’t get in.

He climbs out of the cab, more sedate than Jensen’s hop to his feet and a faint grin hovers as he watches Jensen turn in a circle, looking around.

“Where are we? Haven’t been here yet. I think umph.”

Cougar’s hand over Jensen’s mouth stops the words, at least temporarily. He keeps it in place as he drags Jensen up to the plain, wooden door that’s reinforced with sheet-metal on the other side and knocks. It seems like a bad movie when part of the door opens like a little window and a face peers out. The brief opening lets thumping music escape and the face takes a look at them, himself longer than Jensen, and then door opens altogether, the music washing over them like a bass-driven tsunami.

Jensen’s eyes get big as they walk inside and he takes in the wild, writhing bodies under mirrorballs and strobe lights. The heat envelops them like a too-hot blanket and Jensen shakes him off like a puppy does water. His hips are already moving and Cougar hides a smile because now, showing off for other people, Jensen really dances.

Tugging the younger man close, he says against his ear, “Go dance. I’ll keep an eye out.”

Jensen brightens so much it’s like looking at the sun. His grin is ear-to-ear and he just…slides…out to the dance floor.

Cougar takes up a spot against the wall to watch Jensen, not those around him. Those dancing with and near the kid are automatically catalogued and dismissed as threats individually, but mostly subconsciously. He’s had plenty of practice keeping a discreet eye on Jensen, not wanting to hurt the youngest team member’s feelings by implying he can’t take care of himself.

Time passes too quickly as he stands there, occasionally snaring a bottled water, unopened, and either drinking it himself or pushing his way out to give the bottle to Jensen, who always takes it gratefully.

The thin tee soaks with sweat early on, accentuating Jensen’s lean body and the jeans don’t hide much. He flits from dance partner to dance partner, man to woman to man to woman. They all know he’s bi and no one on the team cares. Roque’s jokes occasionally get mean, but Clay just gives him a sharp look and the black man backs off. Mostly, he knows, Clay does it so Cougar doesn’t tear Roque to pieces.

The people in the club take to Jensen’s golden good looks just the way Cougar knew they would. He’s a beacon amidst the swarthy, earth tones and black hair, but it’s his energy that makes him really stand out. He moves like sex would move, if it had a body. There’s no reservation or inhibition and Cougar’s more than half-hard from watching him practically make love to a lean boy younger than himself.

It’s not until a big man, bigger than Roque, takes an interest that Cougar tenses in a bad way. He watches closely as the man’s hands land on Jensen’s hips and pull him in close, back to front. He watches even more closely as Jensen pauses before going with it. Cougar’s gaze narrows as the man’s hands slide forward to hold the kid tight, grinding up behind him to the beat of the music. Cougar’s hands fist when Jensen just leans back and undulates to the stranger’s rhythm.

When Jensen’s head falls back on the man’s shoulder, Cougar pushes off the wall and strides through the crowd. He grabs Jensen’s hand and pulls him from the other man, hard enough to make Jensen stumble. There’s an intense moment with the three of them caught in a tableau; his grip around Jensen’s wrist and the stranger keeping hold of Jensen’s other arm, and Jensen trapped between them.

Cougar meets the man’s gaze and everything else falls away. He calculates how long it would take to bend, grab his ankle dagger, stretch forward, and sink the blade deep into the nearby gut. seven seconds, tops. And maybe the man reads all of that in his face, because he lets Jensen go, hands raising in surrender, placating.

Tugging Jensen away so that he stumbles right into his arms, Cougar says against his ear, “No more playing.”

Goosebumps erupt over the skin of Jensen’s throat and down his shirt. With an arm around the kid’s throat, Cougar pulls him through the dance floor to the back area. He’s not going back to the apartment where the team might be there to douse the mood like a bucket of cold water. It’s been weeks since he and Jensen had any time together and while normally semi-public sex isn’t their thing, he’s too frantic to care now. Taking the job at the doll factory wasn’t just a move for money, but for some alone time, away from the others, time for just them.

They make it to an alcove where he shoves Jensen against the wall and attacks his mouth with the hunger he’s been feeling since the last time they had each other. He’s starving for the taste of him, his mouth, his skin, his cock, his come. He’s practically dying to be inside Jensen, desperate for the feel of him, the grip of his ass.

Jensen groans and opens to the onslaught eagerly, their tongues twining together, dancing far more intimately than anything that could happen on the dance floor. Cougar pulls at his shirt and they toss it aside without care. Someone grumbles at them, but neither really notices. Slipping his arms around the slender waist, his hands grab hold of Jensen’s ass and squeeze.

Moaning loudly at that, Jensen bucks against him, already hard through his jeans. Apparently he doesn’t care about the setting, either.

Cougar bites sharply at his lower lip and then nips down to under his chin, his throat, and sucks a hickey right above the kid’s heart, biting even harder there. Jensen yanks the hat off his head and then sinks his fingers into Cougar’s hair, twisting almost painfully tight. Hissing in arousal, he bites once more and then surges up to savage Jensen’s mouth again.

There’s more of need than love right then, more of lust than desire. He pulls back and roughly turns, shoves, Jensen around to face the wall. Grinding up against his ass, he bites against the tender lobe and snarls hot against Jensen’s ear, “Este asno es mio. Este cuerpo es mio. Tu, eres mio. Mi corazon. Mi vida.”

Jensen shudders and pushes back against him, his gasps almost inaudible in the noise of the club. Cougar doesn’t need the words though. He pushes the jeans down and then pulls out the thin packet of lube from his own pocket, tearing it with his teeth and smearing his fingers with it before slowly, so slowly, pushing the two fingers inside. He stretches and scissors them, wishing he didn’t have to. If they had time off the next day, he would take Jensen rough and put him away wet. Putting him away wet, would have to do.

A minute of stretching later, he pulls out one more packet and unzips his pants to coat his cock with it. Then he pushes inside, forcing the head of his shaft through the too-tight ring of muscle and hearing Jensen groan again, a mix of pain and pleasure. Cougar doesn’t stop, just goes slow and steady until they’re flush together and he’s buried as deep as he can be. Wrapping his arms around Jensen, he mouths at the curve of a shoulder, tasting the salt-sweat of him as he begins to move.

Jensen’s hand reaches back and tangles again in his hair, forces his mouth from shoulder to lips and they kiss, deep and slow, while he fucks Jensen against the wall of an illegal gay club in Bolivia. The time apart can’t be denied, though, and it’s only moments before his hips slam against Jensen’s ass, panting into each other’s mouths. He reaches down with his free hand and grabs Jensen’s dick, twisting and stroking until the kid jerks violently and comes, shooting against a wall likely already dirty with similar substances.

Cougar doesn’t take long, pummeling into Jensen until he comes and grinds down as deep as he can go. His heart thunders in his chest and he shakes like he might fall apart. And he might. He clings to his lover then, holds tight and wishes never to let go. Jensen probably would’ve let him stay that way for as long as he wanted, but an all-too-familiar ringtone shatters the moment.

Cursing, Cougar carefully withdraws from Jensen’s body and pulls his cell phone from his pocket. Clay’s on the ID. He curses inventively again but answer with a short, angry, “Si.”

“We’ve got something,” the other man rumbles into the phone and then gives him scant details on a crazy girl and more solid details on where to meet. “And bring Jensen.”

“Si,” Cougar agrees and hangs up.

He finds Jensen leaning on one arm against the wall, jeans still around his knees and head on his arm. His posture says, “I’m tired, I want to sleep with you,” and Cougar wants nothing more than to give him that.

Kissing the tender spot at the top of Jensen’s spine, Cougar tells him, “Clay wants us to meet him.”

Jensen nods silently and goes to pull up his pants, but Cougar stops him. He pulls a kerchief out of his back pocket and gently cleans between Jensen’s cheeks before kissing his way back up the spine, bringing the jeans with him.

Turning, Jensen solemnly regards him from behind his glasses for a moment and then cracks a grin at him. “You are totally a closet romantic. I think I’m going to tell Pooch and we’ll just leave you Harlequin books wherever we go.”

The smartassed remark covers for the love Cougar sees plain as day in the dimly lit club. Jensen’s still young, still uncomfortable with open signs of affection, but that’s okay. Cougar can wait.

It’s still dark out when they stumble from the club, but not for long, he can tell. They manage to find a cab and are back at the aging motel sooner than he likes. Jensen lets him hold his hand the whole ride there, though, so that’s a victory.

Upstairs, Cougar hides a grin because the only shirt Jensen can find is the one for his niece’s soccer team. It’s pink. With a giant Petunia on the front. And the word Petunia, in case you didn’t know what flower it was. There’s about two minutes each for a quick wash and they take a turn in the rundown bathroom to get rid of most of the exchanged bodily fluids, though Jensen more than him.

Jensen whines on the way back downstairs about never hearing the end of wearing his niece’s tee and there’s already a defensive tone to the whine. Outside again, the sky slightly lighter and there are no cabs to be found.

Cougar looks around and spots one of the girls from the factory, calls out, “Oye, Patricia!”

She looks over and waves and he notices her girlfriend, whose name he can’t remember, both standing beside Vespas. He catches Jensen’s gaze, who shrugs, and they walk over where Cougar manages to get them a ride to the cemetery.

On the ride over, he sighs and hopes that finally, maybe, Clay’s found a way to bring them home.

He really wants Jensen in his bed, not in a club, not in a bathroom, not stolen away for a few minutes to kiss in a closet. In his bed with all the time in the world and Jensen looking at him without the perpetual worry lines that mar his young forehead.

Cougar’ll do a lot to make that happen.