From Morocco to Paris

by Lydia Nyx

  Davey stood nearby, arms crossed, squinting out into the sunlight. He had to be vigilant lest someone pop a button or lose an accessory.

  “When do you think he’s going to come out?” Davey asked.

  Zane had the bottle halfway to his mouth and stopped. Davey was referring to Elliot, he assumed.

  “Whenever he wants to,” Zane said. “I’ve only known him about a year. We met at a party in Hollywood. He’s a lot less blatant back home.”

  “It’s a shame,” Davey said and looked over at Zane. “When you’re in the public eye, you have to be careful what you say and do. It’s much easier for me. Of course, I’ve dated my fair share of women too.”

  Zane wedged the bottle into the cup holder in the arm of the chair. “Good for you.”

  “In my line of work, they almost expect you to be gay.”

  Elliot came storming back to the tent looking disgruntled and stopped to talk to Cristiano, who stood just beneath the edge of the canopy. They looked odd together, Elliot in his costume breeches and waistcoat and Cristiano in jeans and a gauzy white shirt.

  “So, you enjoy being a personal servant?” Davey asked.

  “I get paid for it!” Zane snapped. “And what I really want to do is direct.” He nodded toward Saul, standing out under the blazing sun talking to the camera crew.

  Saul was a tall, broad-shouldered man with an unkempt shock of black hair, a little wild-eyed, full of personality.

  “You can’t just dive in and start directing though, not without backing,” Zane said. “You have to take every shit job in the industry, get your face out there, get recognized. I jumped at the chance to come here with Elliot. Getting the opportunity to watch Saul Brennan work is more of an education than I ever got at Columbia.”

  “I know how you feel,” Davey said and looked over at Cristiano. “I probably would have done this for free just to work with him.”

  Zane decided not to expound on how hard his ‘opportunity’ came: badgering Elliot for weeks on end, filling his voicemail with messages, showing up everywhere he went until he resembled a stalker — Elliot should have called the police instead of finally hiring him. Zane had wanted the job desperately though, a huge deal for a former film student from a little hick town like Hopkinsville, Kentucky.

  “I wonder what it was like to be a gay man in Napoleon’s time?” Davey suddenly asked.

  Zane looked at him, baffled. “Horrible, I imagine. Homosexuality in early nineteenth century France, especially in the military, was punishable by death.”

  “That would have made it all the more exciting,” Davey said. “Clandestine encounters. Quick, dirty sex.”

  “I’m not sure how attractive it would be when the consequence of getting caught was a sword to your neck.”

  “Imagine it. Secret lovers, grueling away on the march. One comes to the other’s tent at night, burning up with passion. All he’s been able to think about is touching his lover, tasting him. Being inside him. He’s been denied so long he can barely breathe. But they’re together, at last.”

  Zane had learned Davey liked to talk. A lot.

  “You should write romance novels,” Zane said. “Maybe if the fashion industry doesn’t work out for you.”

  “I bet it’s rough and hot,” Davey rambled on. “Nothing pretty about these two. I bet the top has to stuff a rag in the bottom’s mouth to keep him from waking up the entire camp.”

  “Is this mental masturbation for you?”

  “I’m just speculating,” Davey said with a smile. “You want me to tell you how you could improvise bondage in a military camp?”

  “I have to go see if Elliot needs something to drink,” Zane said and got up.

  The long, hot day involved organizing and directing numerous extras, and none of the takes seemed to come off right. To his consternation, every time Zane tried to concentrate on Saul, he found himself stealing a glance at Davey instead. He had no intention of coming to Africa and getting his education usurped by a sex-mad costumer. He needed to ignore him and focus.

  In contrast to the day, spirits were high that evening during dinner on the breezy hotel patio with drinks all around.

  During dessert, Zane and Davey leaned toward each other, both eyeing Elliot and Cristiano across the table. For twenty minutes their employers had been sitting almost on top of each other, talking quietly and completely ignoring everyone else. The steamy looks were enough to turn the table into a sauna.

  “They’re gonna do it tonight,” Davey said near Zane’s shoulder.

  “Nah, not tonight,” Zane said. “El doesn’t move that quick.”

  “Yes, they are,” Davey said, in a sing-song voice. “They’re gonna fuck.” He put special, lascivious emphasis on the word fuck.

  “No, they aren’t,” Zane said.

  Davey leaned over, whispering close to Zane’s ear. “Hot, sweaty fucking all night long, on every piece of furniture in the room. On the floor, too.”

  “Have you ever sought counseling for your sexual addiction?”

  Davey sat up and looked Zane in the eye. “A hundred bucks says they do.”

  Zane snorted. “How are we gonna know if they do?”

  “We’ll ask Elliot tomorrow morning. Even if he won’t tell us, we’ll know if he’s lying by the way he denies it.”

  Zane rolled his eyes. “Aren’t you ever ashamed of yourself?”

  “How do you know they don’t have the same bet on us?”

  “Why would they?”

  Davey just smirked.

  After dinner, everyone said their goodbyes, and Davey shot Zane a smug look when Elliot and Cristiano left together. Then he tugged Zane by the sleeve.

  “C’mon,” Davey said “Let’s go for a walk.”

  They did, taking their drinks along. Night had begun to fall, and the first stars glittered over the rolling water. They walked to the empty, quiet end of the patio and stopped. They leaned on the railing, shoulders touching, gazing out at the sea.

  “How come you haven’t kissed me yet?” Davey asked.

  Zane tried to sound startled but failed mostly when he asked, “What makes you think I want to?”

  “Don’t you?”

  “I…might.”

  They were silent for a while. Zane finished off his drink.

  “Do I make you nervous?” Davey asked, looking at him. Davey still had a half-full glass of red wine. A few strands of hair fluttered around his cheeks, tugged by the wind.

  “You make me…” Zane tried to find something non-incriminating, “uncomfortable. You’re very gregarious.”

  “And?” Davey arched an eyebrow.

  “And what?”

  “And what else am I?”

  Zane frowned, tracing his fingertips over the rim of his glass. “You’re — bold,” he said. “And mouthy. And a pervert.”

  “Any good adjectives in there?” Davey propped an elbow on the railing, chin on his hand, smiling.

  Zane looked away at the water, then sideways at him. “You’re funny. And — confident.”

  “And sexy? Enough to give you a boner?”

  Zane winced. “I’m not really into guys, despite how it may seem.”

  “Oh, bullshit,” Davey said. “You don’t have to play Mr. Straight and Narrow with me. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. I’m mouthy, but I can keep a secret.”

  “Did I mention pushy? You’re very pushy.”

  “Some people need to be pushed.”

  Zane didn’t like being pushed; he’d been pushed too much when he was younger, but he had a feeling life around Davey would continue to be a shoving match, no matter what.

  “I suppose Elliot told you I mess around with a lot of starlets,” Zane said.

  “Is that what I am?” Davey bumped his hip against Zane’s and winked. “A starlet?”

  “No. And it’s not true, anyway.”

  “Of course not.”

  They were silent for a while again, and then Zane sighed.

&nb
sp; “Kissing — leads to other things,” Zane said.

  “Like?”

  “Like what Elliot and Cristiano are probably doing right now.”

  Davey smirked and stepped away from the railing. Zane stepped away too, so they were facing each other. Davey looked him in the eye.

  “As I was saying,” Davey said, moving in closer, “I can keep a secret.”

  “For real?” Zane swallowed.

  “For real, for real,” Davey whispered.

  Davey’s lips were as soft as they looked. But he kissed hard, which Zane liked, and used his tongue, which Zane liked even more. His body felt warm in the chill off the water.

  “We’ve been marching all day,” Davey murmured against his chin. His lips left wet spots which cooled quickly. “Have you been burning for me?”

  He slid his hands down Zane’s sides, making Zane aware of his ribs, aware of his hipbones where Davey’s hands settled and squeezed.

  “Couldn’t wait to get you alone,” Zane breathed back.

  Getting to Zane’s room seemed to take forever, despite the hotel only having one floor and his room being in close proximity to the patio. Shortly after making it to their destination, Davey straddled him on the bed, everything but their shoes still on.

  “Did you jerk off this morning after I left?” Davey asked and gazed down at him, a little smile playing on his lips.

  “Maybe,” Zane answered. He could still be cool. Even with Davey’s weight across his hips, pressing down on his growing erection.

  “You did.” Davey tugged Zane’s shirt up and slid his fingers along his skin. “What were you thinking about?”

  “I’m not telling.” Zane watched him. Davey’s hair fell around his face, loose and wild from the wind.

  “C’mon, I’ll tell you what I was thinking about.”

  “You did it?”

  “Only the instant I got through the door. I did it against the door, actually. Thought maybe I could hear you through it.”

  “You really are a pervert.”

  “I was thinking about sucking you off.”

  Zane drew a sharp breath as Davey moved his hips against him.

  “God, we must be psychic,” Zane said huskily.

  “We must be.” Davey ceased moving his hips and then slid down.

  Despite nearly vibrating with arousal, Zane somehow helped get his own jeans and shorts down, his cock popping out with immediate need for attention. Zane still wasn’t sure, despite his body’s reaction, they should be doing this. He hoped he remembered what to do from those encounters he’d tried so hard to forget.

  Davey said approvingly, “I see why you get the starlets.”

  Zane scowled. “Knock it off with that.”

  Then Zane shut his mouth, because Davey started using his.

  Davey wasn’t like most women Zane had been with. He didn’t tease, or play, or spend time picking the best direction from which to approach. He went to the task without pretense, efficient and direct. Zane didn’t know which he liked more: watching those soft lips slide up and down his shaft or the fact Davey gathered his hair back and held it against the nape of his neck so Zane could watch. He wasn’t surprised Davey liked to put on a show.

  Davey used his other hand to squeeze, sliding his circled fingers up and down near the base in rhythm with his mouth. His stubbled chin glanced and tickled Zane’s balls. Loose strands of hair brushed Zane’s thighs and stomach as Davey slowly relaxed his hand in his hair. Zane curled his fingers in the blankets, the rest of his body rigid. He could barely breathe.

  “Do you want me to come?” Zane whispered shakily.

  Davey slowed. Not once had he given his jaw a break. He popped his mouth off. They hadn’t turned any lights on, but light from the patio filtered in the windows, casting a muted glow. Davey’s eyes were bright, cheeks flushed, lips dark.

  “Do you want to?” Davey asked.

  “Fuck, yes,” Zane said. Almost outside his will, Zane moved his hips, seeking the stimulation again.

  “Do you wanna fuck me?” Davey asked.

  Zane stilled. Such a dangerous question. Davey sucked at his lower lip, looking at him with wide, glittering eyes. He still had his fingers laced loosely around the base of Zane’s cock.

  “I…yes,” Zane finally said. “If you want to.”

  “You got a condom?”

  “Yeah. Hold on.”

  Davey removed his hand. Zane sat up. Davey sprawled next to him and started undoing his jeans. Zane knew if he wanted to change his mind he had to do so fast — but changing his mind seemed impossible when his body kept telling him to hell with the consequences, they’d sort things out later.

  “Get something for lube too,” Davey said as Zane slid off the bed.

  Zane kicked his jeans and shorts the rest of the way off, and with shirt still on and cock bobbing went to the bathroom. After a quick inspection of the counters and shelves, squinting painfully in the light, he found a bottle of complimentary bath oil. The condoms were in his travel bag. He got one and took the items to the bed.

  “Where did you learn to suck cock like that?” Zane asked.

  Davey had his shirt off and started pushing his jeans off as well.

  “Same place as everyone else,” Davey said.

  Zane watched Davey kick his jeans and underwear aside. Even in the half light, Zane saw he had a very nice body — slender, sinewy, but with a good bit of muscle in his arms and legs; a broad chest and a smooth, tight abdomen.

  Since he couldn’t see very well Zane used his sense of touch to assess Davey’s physique better. After a few slow caresses over Davey’s chest and stomach, he decided to just go for the prize and wrapped a hand around his cock.

  “Mmm,” Davey said as he moved his hips. “Where’d you learn to do that?”

  “Same place as everyone else.”

  Davey leaned in for a kiss. Zane could smell his own musk and hesitated. After the initial touch though, he just tasted Davey’s lips and tongue, tangy and sweet from the wine. Zane rolled his palm over the head of his cock, gathering wetness, and slicked the natural lubricant down the shaft to make his strokes smoother.

  “God,” Davey gasped against his lips. Then he moaned.

  “Am I gonna have to stuff a rag in your mouth?” Zane asked.

  “God, please do. Tie me up too, if you will.”

  Davey wrapped a hand around Zane’s cock as well and started to mimic him. Zane shuddered and nuzzled in the wildness of his hair, the salty smell of the sea air clinging to the silken strands. Zane kissed across his collarbone, then his shoulder, and gave the delectable curve a little nip. Davey hissed softly.

  “I don’t receive,” Zane said, trying to sound firm through the waves of pleasure emanating from his groin. “I’m sorry, it just doesn’t sound — well — “

  “Oh, I do.”

  Davey released Zane’s cock, then drew away and rolled onto his stomach, the curving silhouette of his back and buttocks traced by the light.

  “I love it,” Davey said. “You’ll hear no complaints from me.”

  Zane fumbled for the needed items on the bed. “You’ve done this before?”

  “Like you haven’t. Come on.”

  The bath oil had an obnoxiously fruity scent; Davey must have smelled it too as he looked over his shoulder and snickered.

  “You don’t have any real lubricant?” Davey asked.

  “I don’t usually plan on fucking guys.” Zane didn’t warm the oil, just squeezed the fluid down the crack of Davey’s ass, making him jump.

  “I have some!” Davey said. “It’s good for taking matters into your own hands, if you get my drift.”

  “Why didn’t you say that, instead of sending me to find something?”

  “It’s in my room, duh. I could go get it, though.”

  “Too late.”

  Zane took a deep breath. He’d done this before, prepared another man, though he wouldn’t admit to the experience if Davey asked — but then
, he figured he wouldn’t need to ask, his knowledge would be obvious.

  He carefully slid one oil-slicked finger into Davey’s passage and found him tight and hot. Davey moaned deliciously, making Zane’s cock strain with anticipation of getting in there. Davey worked his hips so Zane barely had to move his hand at all.

  “You love it, huh?” Zane asked him.

  “Yes. God, I do. Give me the condom.” Davey twisted his arm around and held his hand back to Zane. “I’ll open it while you do that.”

  Zane plucked the little foil packet off the bed and pressed it into Davey’s palm.

  “You know,” Zane said, “I bet our soldiers do fuck like animals after they’ve been on the march all day.” He added more oil and eased a second finger in. The fruity scent, while appalling, also amused him.

  “Oh yes.” Davey sounded pleased Zane had started playing along. “I bet they ride the hell out of each other.”

  “Ride each other like horses.”

  “I bet they fuck so hard they can barely walk the next morning.”

  “Let’s find out.”

  Zane slid his fingers out and Davey groaned softly.

  Zane hadn’t thought to bring a towel, and after a moment’s debate, wiped his fruity oil-covered fingers on the bedspread, sparing a thought for the poor unsuspecting housekeepers.

  Davey handed the condom back to him and Zane took the little rubber circle, slick between his fingers. Zane didn’t think he’d ever get his senses about him enough to put the damn thing on, discombobulated by Davey’s thighs pressed against his and seeing the slope of his back glistening with sweat in the dull light, not to mention Davey’s tangled hair, spread over the pillow, whispering to Zane to grab and pull. Davey’s soft, impatient sighs added to the distraction. Once Zane had the condom on though, he slid inside Davey quick enough, his inner heat dulled only a little by the thin rubber. Davey moaned and gripped the pillows.

  “That’s good,” Davey gasped. “Oh, fuck me.”