From Morocco to Paris (6 page)

“Pussy,” Davey spat. “C’mon. Come on!”

Zane got to his feet, not to fight but to get away from him. However, Davey attacked, throwing his body against Zane and grabbing his upper arms and sinking his nails in. Zane yelped and pushed back, trying to gain leverage.

A glorious fight ensued. Davey proved quite strong, and Zane wasn’t afraid to use all his own strength against him. They tumbled over furniture, pushed and clawed and punched, and finally landed on the floor. Davey pressed bare and hot against him, his robe tangled around them. He laughed and screamed while Zane snarled and swore.

Zane got hard too. He barely had time to consider what deviants they were as Davey didn’t relent for a second and started trying to rip Zane’s clothes off. Zane’s t-shirt tore at the collar as Davey yanked with both hands. Zane finally pinned him down, but Davey did an incredible twist-around wiggly thing and managed to escape from underneath him.

Davey ran toward the bathroom, rumpled djellaba
flowing behind. Zane tried to grab a handful of the fabric or his ankle but missed both.

Zane leapt to his feet and reached the door just before Davey could slam it shut, flung himself against the wood, and pushed. Davey pushed with all his weight on the other side. After a minute of fierce struggling, Zane managed to push harder and forced the door inward. Davey leapt away and Zane stumbled into the bathroom.

They faced each other, drawing heaving breaths. Zane trembled with adrenaline, his cock ridiculously hard in his jeans; Davey’s djellaba hung open, falling off one shoulder, his cock also unabashedly at attention. His eyes glowed with expectation.

“Come on,” Davey whispered.

Zane dashed at him, and Davey tried to run, but the room only had one door. Zane caught the djellaba in one hand, Davey’s hair in the other. Davey wailed, though the sound resembled delight more than pain. Zane pulled him struggling toward the sink, Davey’s sweaty hair fisted in one hand, the other pulling so hard on his djellaba Zane heard the fabric rip.

“Oh fuck,” Davey gasped as Zane forced him over the sink.

Davey’s hands left sweaty trails on the countertop as he tried to brace himself. Zane saw in the mirror his own face looked like that of a beast, his eyes wild, hair a mess, clothes askew and his t-shirt ripped down the front. He pressed against Davey’s legs and ass so he couldn’t escape and started undoing his belt. Davey didn’t act like he wanted to escape, however.

Zane yanked his belt out of his belt loops with a few jerks. Davey widened his eyes in the mirror and started struggling.

Zane held him down with a firm hand on his upper back. “Stay,” he snarled.

“You’re not going to hit me with that!” Davey said.

“No, I’m not.”

Zane took his hand off Davey’s back and grabbed both his wrists. Davey stilled and then gasped as Zane began lashing his hands to the faucet. He didn’t fight, or at least not hard enough to impede the task. The belt secured and satisfied Davey couldn’t go anywhere, Zane started looking for something to use as lube. The fruity bath oil had been depleted.

“Oh my God! You fucking animal!” Davey yelled and yanked at the belt. The faucet jerked and Zane wasn’t in a mind to care what the hotel staff would do if they ripped their fixtures out.

Zane delved into his travel bag on the closed lid of the toilet and pulled out a bottle of hand lotion, along with a condom.

Davey couldn’t do anything, completely vulnerable, finally at Zane’s mercy. Zane saw the look on Davey’s face in the mirror though, the eagerness in his eyes, the open-mouthed breathing, making all his protestations useless.

Zane flung Davey’s djellaba
up in the back, exposing his ass. Davey moaned.

“You’re going to fuck me?” Davey asked. His legs were already spread wide apart. “While you’ve got me tied up to your sink, you sick fucking bastard?”

Zane undid his jeans and pushed them down, along with his shorts. He ripped the condom packet open and slipped the condom on, then squirted a generous glob of lotion into his palm.

“You fucking asshole.” Davey said and jerked at the belt again. “This is rape! This is rape, you bastard!”

Zane paused at those words. “That’s a bit strong, isn’t it?”

Davey looked over his shoulder and scowled. “You’re ruining it! Just play along.” He turned back around. “Animal!”

Zane tried to regain his bearings and rubbed his cock lewdly against Davey’s ass. He reached around with the hand not full of lotion and squeezed Davey’s rigid cock tightly.

“You can’t rape the fucking willing, you whore,” Zane said, hoping that was more what he wanted to hear.

Davey squirmed. “Oh fuck.” He panted. “You’re still a dirty fucking prick!”

Zane slicked the lotion over the rubber on his cock, barely lasting through the stimulation, and then forced himself in without any further preparation. He couldn’t make himself be wholly sadistic though, and when he felt resistance and Davey shrieked he eased up.

Davey took him fully soon enough, with little complaint, so hot and tight Zane barely kept up the act. Zane moaned harshly, gripping Davey’s hips, his lotion-slick hand sliding on Davey’s skin.

Davey didn’t keep up the act very well either. He slammed his hips back, body jerking, and Zane feared they really would rip the faucet out. In the mirror Davey’s face was beautifully flushed, eyes closed. Zane rocked into him with steady thrusts, the pleasure doubled after all the pain and struggle.

“Fuck me,” Davey moaned. He wrapped his fingers around the faucet, clinging desperately. “Harder, oh God, harder!”

Zane fucked him into the counter, nearly slamming his head against the mirror. He slid a hand underneath and found Davey’s cock again, hot and slick, and started stroking. When Zane felt the first shot of wetness over his wrist and the clenching around his cock, he pounded into Davey mercilessly. Zane leaned over his back, coming while Davey shuddered in his own orgasm, both moaning and gasping, Davey’s hands clenched into fists on either side of the faucet.

When Zane’s cock stopped jerking, he slid out, panting and trying to get his wits about him. He wanted to collapse on the floor but instead whipped the condom off, tossed it toward a nearby wastebasket, and began undoing the belt. Davey groaned and slumped, his knees buckling against the cabinet beneath the counter, head hanging so his hair filled the sink.

Once freed, Davey slid to the floor, and Zane joined him. Davey rubbed his wrists, the flesh red and marked with lines.

Neither said a word for a few minutes. Zane still had his pants and shorts around his ankles, his wet cock softening against his thigh. Davey had his djellaba gathered haphazardly around him.

“Are you all right?” Zane finally asked.

Davey looked over. His eyes were heavy-lidded and a smile played on his lips.

“I’ve never been better,” he said, and then winced. “Except, maybe my ribs where you were punching me earlier. God damn.”

“You started it.”

They eventually hauled themselves up off the floor. Zane pulled his pants up and put the lotion away. He unwound his belt from the faucet. They went out to the room and Davey sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing his wrists still.

“I think I’m gonna need some salve,” he said.

“What will you tell people when they see the marks?” Zane asked.

“The truth.” Davey smirked. “Rough sex.”

Zane smirked back, strangely all right with the answer. “You want a smoke?”

“Of course I do, go grab them from my room. My keycard is on the nightstand.” Davey moved up to the pillows and leaned back gingerly. “We’ll be letting go of all our creature comforts soon. Might as well enjoy them while we can.”

Zane smiled. Beating up Davey and manhandling him had done more for his mood than aspirin, booze, and rest combined, and somehow he knew Davey was aware. He understood Zane needed to let out some aggression. Though really, Zane wouldn’t have hurt Davey without provocation or his consent.

Zane felt a little lurch in his stomach.
Oh no. Feelings
.

“Yeah, I guess no more fun for us,” Zane said. “That’s okay though. It’ll be sexy.”

Chapter 5

“Is this sexy enough for you yet?” Zane asked.

Day six in the desert had nearly concluded. They were out in the middle of the Sahara with the Moroccan Royal Army, the soldiers teaching the cast and extras how to function in a military camp. The world sweltered beneath the slanting sun, even in late afternoon. Zane carried Elliot’s props back from shooting while Elliot had presumably gone to dunk his head in the nearest water source. Despite the replica sword and bayonet being lighter than the actual weapons would have been, they seemed to weigh a ton.

“It’s got a certain charm,” Davey said as he plodded alongside Zane. Davey’s face and hair were covered with white dust. Wardrobe and props shared tents, and Davey had intercepted him on the way. They were both dressed as lightly as they dared -- though anything more than naked wasn’t light enough -- for exposing too much of one’s skin to sun, sand, and scorpions wasn’t advisable.

“Charm!” Zane said and emitted a high-pitched, nearly hysterical laugh. “Yes, you could call it that.
Charm
.”

“Suffering for your education,” Davey said. He swiped the back of his hand across his forehead, smearing dust and sweat into a brownish paste. “Aren’t you learning anything from Saul? This is what happens on location.”

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate it. But at the moment, I’d kill for a nice big steak, a beer, and a soft bed with a television at the foot of it.” Zane made a face. “I’d settle for a real fucking shower, too. God. It smells like something died in my armpits.”

Davey smirked. “You smell like a man. Finally.”

Davey leaned toward Zane and sniffed. If Zane had a free hand he would have punched him in the nose.

“Mmm,” Davey said. “Eau de Zane. I’d wear it.”

“Shut up.”

Zane started walking faster, despite being exhausted. He heard Davey cackle in his wake.

Proper showers were out of the question, as water had to be rationed. The showers they did have resembled beach showers, but with so many people waiting for them everyone got about two minutes to clean themselves, if they were lucky. The water came out ice cold, which really wasn’t a problem in the heat, but the frantic dash to wash and shampoo made the experience highly unpleasant. Zane had yet to clean himself quick enough to not have suds left in his hair. The real soldiers found this funny. They had camp showering down to an efficient art and were usually out before the two-minute time limit. They slid their hands over their smooth heads; hair only served as a hindrance in a real army.

As Zane got in line to return the props, Davey came up beside him again.

“I don’t think the food is that bad either,” Davey said. “I’ve already lost a couple of pounds, combined with all the sweating. So have you. You’re looking good.”

Zane didn’t have a huge issue with army rations, but they left him craving something more substantial. They got one sparse, catered meal a day from the craft service, as storing food in the desert wasn’t easy and some foods simply couldn’t be kept.

“There’s really only one thing I have a problem with,” Davey said. Zane looked over, curious to hear what Pippi Longstocking had to complain about. “This fucking tent situation!”

“Tent situation?” Zane asked.

“Yes. I don’t know how you’re getting along with Elliot…”

“Elliot’s driving me crazy. He’s written six emails to Cristiano already. He’s saving them for when he finally has internet service.”

Davey chuckled. “Does he lay there and moan his name all night?”

“Not yet.”

“I’m sharing a tent with the guy who dresses Fakhir.” Fakhir Ahmed had been cast as Murad Bey, commander of the Mamluk forces. “His name is Jack. He’s a great man for conversation, never complains, very neat and mannerly.”

“He sounds like a nightmare.”

“My
point
,” Davey grew peevish, “is that he’s too polite for me to subject myself to. You can’t even get a moment to yourself to jerk off around here. A man has needs!”

Zane groaned. “I might have known this would be about your sexual frustration.”

“Right, and you’re going to go a month without so much as jerking off?”

Zane shrugged. “This isn’t about sex. We’re supposed to be working. There’s more important things to occupy our time.”

“Sure. And you’re out of your mind if you believe the French never jerked off. That’s why homosexuality takes place in armies. It’s not a choice, it’s a necessity!”

Zane looked at the people around him: all bedraggled, dirty, and ready to collapse. Clearly none of them were thinking about sex or lack thereof.

“In case you haven’t noticed,” Zane said, “there are women around here, Davey. One whole unit of the stunt crew is female. You don’t have to be gay.”

“Maybe I want to be.”

“Suit yourself. Me, I’m focused on work. I’m going to turn in Elliot’s props, then I’m going to the showers.”

“I’m going to the showers too. We’ll see how much you’re not thinking about sex when we’re naked together.”

“I find it hard to get aroused when I’ve got ice cold water shrinking my balls.”

Zane stepped to the front of the line, and the prop girl raised an eyebrow. He smiled wearily at her. “I don’t understand why a scientist needs a sword and a bayonet,” he said, “but tomorrow, can he have cardboard ones?”

Zane maintained his stance on sex for exactly four more days. He spent those days helping Elliot stay organized, keeping him hydrated and shielded from the sun, and observing Saul every chance he got. He grew used to the very basic meals, became faster in the showers, and went through two bottles of sun block. At least he had the luxury of Elliot’s umbrella during takes and his air-conditioned trailer when the temperature became overwhelming.

On the fifth day, he woke up with an erection hard enough he could have put someone’s eye out. Glad Elliot wasn’t awake, he rolled over on his little cot and tried to think unsexy thoughts.

Soon after, a cloud of sexual frustration born of deprivation descended, gripping most of the crew. Everyone talked about sex, mourning the absence of their significant others and trying to devise ways to call them or get them out there. Zane suspected some experimentation started like they were in prison. Or at war. Zane behaved himself, until one tension-filled night after dinner. As he went behind the craft tent to sneak a smoke -- Davey had rekindled his addiction quite successfully -- Davey caught up with him. They were alone and in the dark.