by Lydia Nyx
Zane only lasted a few minutes, though much more time seemed to pass. He sat up and touched the back of Davey’s head as he neared the edge. Then he emitted a sharp gasp, leaning over him. Davey slid off the edge of the bed and onto his knees on the floor, sucking with vigor.
“Oh God, fuck,” Zane gritted out. He shuddered as the first spurt shot out of him.
Davey maintained perfect grace, continuing to stroke and keeping his mouth over the head to catch the release and swallowing it down.
When Zane finished, he flopped back on the bed, panting. He gazed up at the ceiling. The sun picked out the swirling patterns in the plaster, the world wrapped in a gauzy yellow haze.
Davey left his groin with a parting lick to Zane’s cock. Thankfully, it started to soften. Davey pressed against him, arm draped over Zane’s chest, face next to his. Zane turned his head and looked at him. Davey smiled, his lips shiny and swollen.
“Feel better now?” Davey asked.
“Yes, thank you.” Zane smiled back. “However, can you get off me? I really have to piss.”
Davey smirked and rolled away.
No shooting had been scheduled that day, so they intended to plan some fun activities. Breakfast from room service made a good start. They hashed over trips to markets, temples, and a bevy of sightseeing while they ate, but in the end they simply sprawled on the bed, windows open, the warm breeze drifting in.
Zane lay one way, stretched out on his stomach, and Davey the other, sitting up propped on the pillows, so Davey’s bare feet were next to Zane’s head at the bottom of the bed. Zane read a magazine, and Davey did a crossword puzzle in one of the entertainment papers.
“Maybe we should take a bus tour,” Davey suggested. “Or go out on the Nile on one of the cruises.”
“Hm,” Zane answered, turning a page.
A lull of silence.
“You wanna sixty-nine?” Davey asked. Zane could hear his pencil scraping across the paper. “Since we’re in the right position and all.”
“Maybe,” Zane said idly. “Let me finish reading this article first.”
A few minutes later Davey’s phone went off, a jarring sound in the easy silence.
“Hullo?” His foot twitched next to Zane’s face, and Zane glanced over. “Hi. Yeah. No…nope. Haven’t seen him.”
Zane dropped his magazine and reached over, took hold of Davey’s foot, and peered at his toes. Davey wiggled them.
“Nope,” Davey said into the phone. “Hm. You could call Elliot and ask him.”
“God, you need a pedicure,” Zane muttered, low enough so the person on the other end wouldn’t hear. He picked at one of Davey’s toenails, and Davey tried to kick him away.
“I’m not sure, but you know how it is with him,” Davey said.
Zane gripped Davey’s foot and tried to gnaw on the offending toenail. Davey hit him on the back of the head with his paper.
“I don’t know! I gotta go. I’ll see you later!”
After Davey clicked off, he yanked his foot away and pinched Zane hard on the calf. Zane yelped and chuckled.
“God! Leave my damn feet alone!” Davey said. “You nasty bastard, how do you know where they’ve been?”
“They’re clean. You took a shower last night after we got back. I helped you wash your back, remember?” Zane smirked, propped on his elbows. He turned and picked up his magazine. “Who was on the phone?”
“Rory.”
“Rory? What did he want?”
“He was looking for you. Why are you guys suddenly best friends?”
“What!” Zane turned around. “Was it something important? I left my phone in my room!”
“Hell if I know.” Davey lifted his foot. “Here, lick. Since you apparently have a fetish.”
Zane pushed his foot away. “It better not have been something important!”
“Don’t worry, if it was you’ll miss it.” Davey picked up his paper again. “What did you want me to say? Yeah, he’s right here behind me, banging me. Let me pass the phone over my shoulder?”
Zane sighed and turned back to his magazine. He’d get his phone and give Rory a call in a little bit. He reasoned if he called right away Rory would know Davey had lied.
Zane’s plan didn’t come to fruition however, as Davey got bored of his crossword and started running his nails lightly down Zane’s back again, sitting next to him. Goosebumps broke out over Zane’s skin at the gentle but strangely intense sensation.
He turned his head to look at Davey with a raised eyebrow. Davey crawled forward and placed a kiss on his shoulder. Zane looked down at his magazine, though he no longer had much interest in the article. He felt Davey’s breath against his ear.
“I’m horny,” Davey whispered.
“Are you?” Zane closed the magazine. “I’m not; I had a nice blowjob this morning.”
Davey drew back to Zane’s shoulder and gave his collarbone a gentle bite. “Will you fuck me?” he asked.
Zane rolled over on his side, so he faced him. Davey sat back.
“Things are still weird,” Zane said softly. “Don’t you think?”
“Things have always been weird. That’s never stopped us from fucking.” Davey undid his robe. “Not man enough to get off twice in one morning? You don’t even have to get off, just get it up.”
“How am I supposed to do that!” Zane protested as Davey rolled him onto his back. “It’s tired!”
“Then I guess this is a job for…” Davey whipped his robe open with a fierce look. “The Cockmaster!”
Zane groaned and put a hand over his eyes.
He didn’t think he could focus long enough to become aroused. However, after his shorts were off, Davey’s bare body on top of his accomplished a great deal in a short time. Davey rubbed his hard cock against Zane’s limp one and swiftly stirred him. Zane lifted his hips to the sensation, his stiffening length rubbing silkily against Davey’s erection.
Davey hovered over him, hands on either side of Zane’s shoulders, the sunlight in his hair. Zane reached up and wound the long strands around his fingers.
“You can pull it,” Davey said and smirked. “I know you like it rough.”
Zane didn’t pull. He didn’t feel like being rough.
Davey looked beautiful, naked on top of him, skin dusky and hair flowing, tossing his head and rolling his hips as he brought them both to full arousal. He knew how to put on a show. They proceeded to the application of something wet and slick, and then some shifting, some preparing, and then the tight heat inside of Davey made everything else pale into the background.
Pressing Davey up against the headboard, Davey’s knees hooked over his arms, Zane found bliss.
Things had changed though, and something white hot and resonating strung between them, connecting them in a way Zane found alarming. He was afraid to look Davey in the eyes or hear the words he said. Davey traced Zane’s lower lip with his fingers, and Zane sucked one into his mouth.
“I fucking love you,” Davey whispered. No, not you, it. He’d said “it” and Zane heard “you.”
Davey kissed him, sucked at his tongue, moaned desperately into his mouth. The position had to hurt, but he begged for more.
Zane came first, in a rush like fire shooting through his veins, making him give a strangled cry against Davey’s lips. The sensation galvanized him, tearing him down to his essential self. The intensity made him tremble.
“Oh God.” Davey’s voice and his sigh fell heavy on Zane’s ears. “You beautiful bastard.”
Zane stroked him, still inside him, not thinking he could remove himself just yet. Davey arched and squirmed when he came and Zane finally slipped out. Davey clutched the headboard and swore and moaned so loudly Zane mused the room next door had had some free entertainment.
Afterward, Zane sprawled on his stomach, head hanging off the bed and gazing at the noonday sun streaming through the window. Davey rested his head on his lower back, his hair draped over Zane’s hip. Zane continued
trembling for minutes afterward and was profoundly glad Davey said nothing about the reaction.
After a long, quiet time broken only by the sound of the city drifting in, Zane glanced around the floor, looking for his jeans. He reached out and pulled them over. His cell phone tumbled out of one of the pockets.
“Ah fuck,” he said as he snatched the phone up. “I had my phone!”
Davey chuckled. “You were pretty drunk last night. Remember, first you were convinced you lost it, then you were convinced it was in your room?”
“I better call Rory.”
Davey rolled away. Zane powered the phone up and saw he had three voicemails from Rory — but thankfully none from Elliot, who actually paid him to take his calls.
“I swear to God, if this is something really important I’m going to stick your head in that pot,” Zane warned Davey.
Zane sat up and propped himself against the headboard. Davey snuggled up against him, arm over Zane’s stomach and head on his chest. Zane didn’t bother listening to the voicemails and just called Rory.
“Tell him to bring us some lunch,” Davey said.
Rory picked up after two rings. “Hello?”
“Rory!” Zane said brightly. “It’s Zane.”
“Zane! Where the hell have you been?”
“Oh, I was…jogging.” Davey snickered and Zane swatted him on the back of the head. “What’s going on?” Zane asked.
“Your brother is here!”
Zane paused in dumbfounded silence. “What!”
Davey lifted his head and looked up at him.
“Your brother. Is here. He went up to your room, but you weren’t there. We’ve been hanging out. Cool guy.”
In the background Zane heard Ian’s voice, berating him playfully for being missing.
“Oh shit!” Zane sat up, making Davey sit up too. “What the fuck is he doing here! He didn’t tell me he was coming!”
“Surprise. You wanna talk to him?”
Zane rolled off the bed and grabbed up his jeans. “Sure. Where are you?”
“Downstairs in the restaurant. Here.”
He heard a faint crackling, and then Ian’s voice came on. “Zane!”
“What the hell are you doing here?” He struggled to get his jeans on.
Davey sat on the bed, watching him with perplexed amusement.
“I can’t come see my brother?” Ian asked. “Where the hell have you been? With some girl, aren’t you?”
“No.” Zane buttoned his jeans, the phone tucked against his shoulder. He shot Davey a look. “I was just jogging. I’ll be right down, okay?”
“All right. I mean, I’ve waited this long for you.”
“Okay. Be there in a few.” Zane hung up and tossed the phone on the bed.
“What the hell was that?” Davey asked.
Zane searched for his shirt. “My fucking brother is here! Which I would have known if you hadn’t told Rory you didn’t know where I was!”
Davey crawled to the edge of the bed, watching as Zane tugged his shirt on, then struggled into his socks and shoes.
“Zane, if I told Rory you were here, you would have been pissed off at me for telling him. You would have complained it looked suspicious. I’m damned if I do, and damned if I don’t, aren’t I?”
“Whatever.” Zane stood up, running a hand through his hair. He paused, then said more gently, “I’ll talk to you tonight, all right?”
Davey knelt, elbows on the bed, chin propped on one hand. He wiggled his fingers. “Bye, honey.”
Zane left in a rush. He couldn’t say exactly why Ian being there made him so nervous, but he fidgeted all the way downstairs in the elevator, then stopped at a mirror to check his appearance before making his way to the restaurant.
“There he is!” Ian said and got to his feet as Zane approached the table.
Rory swiveled in his chair and waved, then returned to his food. Zane embraced his brother, hoping he didn’t smell like sex.
People often said they bore a striking family resemblance, though Ian was thinner and a few inches taller. His hair was a few shades lighter brown, sleek, straight, and fringed, just above shoulder-length, in contrast to Zane’s darker, short, shaggy hair. The style flattered Ian’s narrow face and made him look quite chic. He dressed a hell of a lot better than Zane, too.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Zane asked. “You should have called and told me you were coming!”
They sat down at the table. A waiter brought Zane a menu and some water.
“Like I was going to pass on the chance to visit Cairo.” Ian waved a hand. “This is the most exotic place you’ve ever been! I would have come to Morocco, but I had too much going on at the time. I decided I’d take a few days off now and invoke my ‘visit my little brother on the set’ privileges. Thought you might like the surprise.”
Ian ran a talent agency in Santa Barbara. His connections had been invaluable in getting Zane into the movie business. Zane liked having his brother in the same state and with the funds to visit him when he traveled.
“It is a great surprise,” Zane said with a smile. “Sorry I was busy when you showed up.”
“Lunch is on me today,” Ian said. “You can buy dinner and make it up to me.”
They did some catching up. Zane really so happy to see him he quickly forgot about the complication waiting upstairs, until Ian suddenly looked up and made a face Zane knew well. Something delicious had just walked through the door.
“Ouch, damn,” Ian murmured.
Zane smirked and looked over his shoulder half-expecting to see Cristiano, and promptly dropped his fork.
Davey breezed toward the table, dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt, his hair in a loose ponytail. Disaster, approaching with unerring swiftness.
“Hey, guys.” Davey stopped at the table, smiling. His gaze fell on Ian.
“Hey, Davey,” Rory said.
Zane couldn’t speak. His tongue felt thick, blocking the opening of his throat. Ian shot Zane a prodding, expectant look.
“Um.” Zane cleared his throat. “Ian, this is Davey Alexander. He’s one of the set costumers. Davey, this is my brother Ian.”
“Hi.” Davey smiled brightly and held out a hand; Ian took it and shook it firmly, smiling up at him. “Good to meet you,” Davey said. “Zane’s told me so much about you. Mind if I join you guys?”
“Go ahead,” Rory said, before Zane could speak.
Davey pulled out a chair and sat.
“So, you and my brother are friends, huh?” Ian asked.
Zane took a quick drink of his tea.
Davey smiled, pushing an errant strand of hair away from his face. “Oh yes, great friends. We’ve been hanging out the whole production.”
Ian smiled widely. Rory snorted. Zane tried to think of an excuse to get away from the table, though he wondered which was more dangerous — staying, or leaving and not knowing what Davey said.
“So, you just got to Cairo, Ian?” Davey asked. “How long are you staying?”
“Depends on how the sightseeing is,” Ian said meaningfully.
Disaster.
Chapter 13
In an effort to create a cunning distraction, Zane introduced Ian to Cristiano. They hit it off right away, to Elliot’s obvious consternation, and talked for several hours in the hotel lobby before they all went to dinner in the evening after shooting.
They went to Sharia Alfy, an area of Cairo heavily populated with restaurants, clubs, and bars, lively and busy and certainly Ian’s style. Zane would have preferred someplace quiet and out of the way, but he wanted to be accommodating.
The restaurant they went to was called Alfy Bey, a vivacious, atmospheric Egyptian establishment with very traditional Egyptian food. Everything Zane ordered was either disturbingly exotic or painfully bland, but they all — minus Elliot, obviously — wanted the experience. Zane hoped said experience wouldn’t include being hunched over a toilet later, as they’d been warned repeatedly to b
e careful about what local food they ate.
They sat at a half table, half booth, Zane in a chair across from Ian, Ian in the booth portion with Cristiano and Elliot, Davey in another chair between Zane and Ian. Ian had swiveled his attention from Cristiano to Davey since their arrival at the restaurant. Elliot seemed much happier with this, sitting back and sipping orange juice — the restaurant didn’t serve alcohol — his arm on the seat behind Cristiano, though not touching him. Elliot had enough sense to know Saul didn’t need one of his key actors imprisoned in Cairo for homosexuality.
“He was crazy when we were teenagers,” Ian said. He had been regaling Davey with tales of Zane’s misspent youth for nearly a half hour. “Has he told you about the time he ran our momma’s car into a lake?”
Davey focused bemusedly on Zane, ripping apart a piece of flatbread. He looked good, dressed in a tailored, dark gray suit with a pink dress shirt underneath.
“Did you run a car into a lake, Zane?” Davey asked.
“It was only the front part.” Zane shot his brother a dour look.
Ian was dressed nicely as well, all in black, a jacket and dress shirt and trousers, sharp and stylish. He only cleaned himself up so well for one reason.
“You still put it in the lake,” Ian said.
“It was an accident.”
“Yes, accidents tend to happen when you’re too young to drive.”
“That’s bullshit!” Zane said. “I was damn well old enough to drive. You just don’t remember it right!”
Zane immediately regretted raising his voice. Ian fixed him with a pointed, stern look.
“I’m sorry,” Zane said and rubbed his forehead. “It’s been a long day.”
“We need to get you somewhere that serves booze, then,” Ian said and winked at Davey. “Has he been like this since he got here?”
Davey smirked. “Mostly, yes. I think the heat has gone right to his head.”
Cristiano gazed at Zane, dark eyes taking him in knowingly. Zane had a feeling he could see right through him, see down to the fact Zane was so conflicted he wanted to tear his own hair out. Ian was his brother, and he loved and respected him and would never stand in his way. Ian also thought Zane was the very definition of straight and had no idea what he was doing by flirting with Davey.
