From Morocco to Paris Page 3

  Zane liked his sex partners loud, liked to know he was getting the job done. Davey had no qualms about playing his part. He cried out sharply with every inward thrust and let out a breathy moan on each withdrawal. Davey didn’t go supple or submissive, instead pushing back and demanding more with his entire body. He just had his hips elevated at first but eventually got up on his hands and knees.

  Zane wanted to tell Davey he felt fucking exquisite inside, but his brain had short-circuited and he’d forgotten how to speak. Watching the light move across Davey’s back, watching him toss his hair, Zane’s fingers itched and flexed on Davey’s hips. Finally, Zane grabbed a nice sweaty handful of Davey’s hair. Davey shrieked like a demon and slammed back so hard the shock shot down Zane’s thighs.

  “Yes!” Davey snarled. “That’s it. That’s it!”

  The bed seemed sturdy, but they got it to move. Davey made short work of the bedclothes, pulling the sheets free of the mattress. Zane gripped his hair hard, pulled his head back, and rode him into utter ecstasy, completely helpless to do anything else.

  By the time he spilled into the condom Zane thought he would die from the intensity.

  Zane barely had his senses when Davey slid off his cock, then turned over beneath him and drew Zane down onto his hot, trembling body. Davey pulled Zane’s hand between them, to his cock.

  “Finish me off,” Davey half-ordered, half-begged.

  Zane gripped him and stroked with what strength he had left, face pressed against Davey’s sweat-soaked neck. Davey squirmed, and clung, and dug his nails into Zane’s shoulders, and at last locked his legs around Zane’s waist, and went stiff with a harsh cry. Davey came hot and wet over his own already hot, wet skin.

  Afterward, cooling off and calming down, sprawled next to each other, Zane closed his eyes and smiled lazily.

  “Mmm, damn,” Zane said. “Now that’s some afterglow.”

  “Endorphins,” Davey said, sounding equally spaced-out. “The harder you do it, the sharper it is, and the longer it lasts.”

  Zane just tried to enjoy the aftermath without dwelling too much on the implications of what had just happened. He’d had a lot of conditioning in his formative years that whispered now in the back of his brain, telling him what he’d just done was very bad. He didn’t want to entertain the guilt and negativity, not when he felt so good.

  The air smelled like fruit and jizz. The oil bottle rested against Zane’s left foot. When the blissful haze receded, Zane turned on the bedside lamp and located the wastebasket. He deposited the condom in the little can under the bedside stand, got up, fetched them some towels to clean up with from the bathroom, and crawled back in bed.

  “God, my ass is gonna hurt so bad tomorrow,” Davey lamented. “Not to mention my head.” He touched his scalp gingerly, wincing.

  “Sorry about that. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

  “It was a great fucking idea.” Davey plucked a towel from Zane’s hand. “You smoke?”

  “I quit like three years ago,” Zane said and stretched out on his back again.

  “I’ve never been habitual, but I like to smoke after sex,” Davey said. “I have a pack in my room. Want me to go get them?”

  “Are you determined to usurp all my resolve?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Davey asked.

  “Never mind.” Zane didn’t want to explain his father, though long dead, seemed to be lurking in the shadows in the corner of the room right at that moment, leering threateningly.

  After Davey cleaned up, he rolled over and nudged his chin against Zane’s shoulder.

  “I bet they’re doing it right now,” Davey said. “We should go find out.”

  “Nah, they won’t answer the door. We’ll wait ‘til breakfast.”

  ***

  Davey stayed the night in Zane’s room. Despite the size of the bed, early in the morning Zane awoke to find Davey pressed against him and both of them to one side of the mattress. Zane went back to sleep. Elliot wasn’t calling him so his workday hadn’t started.

  At breakfast, Elliot and Cristiano looked tired but quietly happy. Zane could feel his wallet getting lighter. Davey, looking smug, watched them as he ate. Davey at least had the decency to wait until Cristiano went to the restroom before he swooped in on Elliot.

  “Did you guys do it last night?” Davey asked, leaning across the table conspiratorially, fork in hand.

  Elliot looked aghast. “God! That’s none of your fucking business!”

  Davey whacked Zane on the arm with his fork. “We did.”

  “Davey! What the fuck!” Zane yelped. So much for keeping his mouth shut.

  “I’m not quite as easy as either of you,” Elliot said, seemingly unaffected by the proclamation. “Mind your own damn business.”

  Cristiano returned, and Elliot declared they were leaving for the set.

  “Be right after you,” Zane said. He intended to have a few words with Davey.

  As Elliot and Cristiano turned away Zane heard Elliot mutter, “I won, pay up.”

  In their wake, Zane and Davey stared.

  “Those conniving bastards!” Davey said and plunked his fork down. “Oh, it’s on now. It’s on.”

  Zane wasn’t sure if he should be embarrassed or if mortification would be the more appropriate emotion.

  “Come on, we better get to set,” Zane said curtly. “Thanks for keeping it a secret, by the way.”

  “Oh please, obviously they already knew.”

  “You said you wouldn’t tell anyone!”

  “I just told two gay guys you had gay sex. What a horror.”

  “Just shut up.”

  They rose and followed the other two. Some distance ahead on the patio, Elliot looked over his shoulder and smirked.

  “Do you think Napoleon would have tolerated that sort of insolent behavior?” Davey asked.

  “No,” Zane said and pushed up his sleeves. “Catch those bastards.”

  Cristiano could run like hell, and he dragged Elliot with him. Zane was kind of glad they were too fast to catch. Smacking his boss in the mouth would probably get him fired.

  Chapter 3

  “What do you suppose they used for lube in Napoleon’s time?” Davey asked.

  The one-sided conversation had been going on for three days. Davey picked up the thread as though it had never been dropped at every opportunity — in between takes, while sewing buttons onto jackets, even over dinner. Every time he opened his mouth his sentences started with, “Do you think in Napoleon’s day homosexuals…?” or “What do you think male lovers in Napoleon’s time…?” Zane wondered if he was really interested in the answers or he just liked the sound of his own voice.

  “I’m sure they had oils and stuff,” Zane said.

  They were on the beach, drinking beer. The sun had set over the sea and the water — in the direct sunlight vivid, crystalline blue — was now as dark as cobalt and streaked with pink and gold. The tremendous, humid heat of the day had given way to a much cooler, fragrant, and airy evening. Palm trees lined the strand and swayed in the wind off the water; the air whistled over heaps of craggy rocks climbing from the beach up the hill behind them, on top of which their hotel stood.

  A fire had been built, and they were the only two sitting by the flames. Everyone else had wandered down the stretch of powdery white sand to where some of the crew had started a game of American football. This was amusing, since for most of them ‘football’ meant soccer and they couldn’t figure it out.

  “So,” Davey said. “Oils, you think?”

  Davey had his beer tucked in his crotch. He wore a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt rippling over his chest in the wind.

  “Sure as hell beats fruity bath stuff,” Zane said.

  Elliot appeared, walked past the fire, and came over to join them. He sat down next to Zane. He had on a pair of cargo pants rolled up to his knees and a shell bracelet around his left ankle. He nibbled a slice of apple. The catering crew ha
d a table set up nearby with finger foods and drinks.

  “Hey, Elliot,” Davey said. “How’s things?”

  Elliot shot him a look across Zane. “Things are fine. How are your things?”

  “Hangin’ like grapefruits.”

  “We were just discussing lubrication in Napoleon’s time,” Zane said sardonically and sat back on his hands, digging his fingers into the soft sand.

  “I might have known,” Elliot said around his apple.

  “They must have had some,” Davey said. “I mean, there was surely lots of ass sex going on back then.”

  “There’s lots of ass sex going on now,” Elliot said out the corner of his mouth. “You ever been to San Francisco?”

  “You would know about ass sex,” Davey jibed. “Will you answer a question for us? We’ve been dying to know.”

  “No,” Elliot replied.

  “Don’t say ‘we,’” Zane interjected.

  Davey went on, undeterred.

  “Cristiano is so graceful,” Davey said. He looked over at the catering table where Cristiano stood talking with members of the location crew.

  Cristiano wore all white — pants rolled up to reveal muscular calves, a button-down shirt hanging open, and a tank top beneath. The way he stood, bare feet dug into the sand, hips thrust out, his ass made a delectable, sensuous curve. Zane took a long drink of his beer.

  “I bet he’s really flexible, too,” Davey said. Zane saw the next bit coming from a mile away. “Can he put his legs over his head?”

  “Why do you have to be such a damn jerk all the time!” Elliot snapped.

  “I really wanna know!” Davey protested. “Can he? I mean — like, back over his head?”

  “What does that even mean!” Elliot got to his feet. “Anyone can put their legs over their head! All you gotta do is lay on your back, and…” He leaned back. “You know! Just pull your legs up!”

  Davey wiggled the base of his bottle into the sand, then flopped on his back and pulled his legs up. With some effort, he got his knees over his head in a sort of arrested somersault, his ass sticking up in the air.

  “Like this?” Davey’s muffled voice came from between his legs.

  “I hope you get stuck,” Elliot said. Zane smirked.

  Just then, Cristiano turned and came over. He frowned curiously in Davey’s direction.

  “Davey’s having a contest, Cristiano,” Zane said. “Kick him in the ass and win a prize!”

  Elliot immediately made to kick him. Davey yelped and straightened himself.

  Night came on, the sky over the water filling with stars. The beach seemed to shrink until just the objects within the circle of firelight existed, the people beyond shadows in the night.

  Davey rested on his side, his head propped on his hand near Zane’s knee. The light picked out blond highlights in his hair, gathered in a loose ponytail at his neck. Zane had a blanket around his shoulders to fend off the chilly air.

  “Do you think there was anything they didn’t do back then that we do now?” Davey asked, staring into the fire. “I mean, sexually. Do you think anything was taboo?”

  “Why don’t you get a book or something?” Zane stared into the fire as well, heavy and drowsy from the beer he’d drank.

  “They don’t put things like that in books. Anything people would actually want to read, they don’t include.”

  Davey stretched his arm out and put his head down on his forearm. His hand brushed Zane’s foot.

  “I don’t know,” Zane said. “When I think of Napoleon Bonaparte, my first desire isn’t to know whether or not the men in his army gave each other rim jobs.”

  “Mmm,” Davey murmured. “That sounds good.”

  Zane looked down at him. His own beer finished, he had half a mind to steal Davey’s bottle rather than get up for another one.

  “What sounds good?” Zane asked.

  “A nice, slow, sloppy rimming.”

  “I don’t believe I phrased it that way.”

  Zane looked across the fire. Elliot and Cristiano sat close together on a blanket, talking quietly. Zane looked down at Davey again, then flicked Davey’s ear, causing him to jump and yelp, and giving Zane the perfect opportunity to snatch his beer.

  “Hey!” Davey said and rolled onto his back, scowling at him. “I spit in that!”

  Zane took a drink and then lowered the bottle, licking his lips.

  “So? I’ve kissed you.”

  “I pissed in it,” Davey said.

  “Really, when did you do that? You’ve been here the whole time.”

  Davey sighed and shifted. He rested the back of his head on Zane’s thigh.

  “I jerked off in it, actually,” Davey said.

  “Pretty moot at this point too.”

  Davey folded his hands on his stomach and relaxed against Zane’s leg. Zane kept Davey’s beer and pushed at his head, murmuring, “Don’t.”

  “Why?” Davey swiveled and looked up at him, his eyes catching the firelight.

  “There’s a bunch of people around.”

  “So?”

  “So, it looks weird.”

  “No, when you stick your dick in my ass it looks weird. We’re just being friendly.”

  Zane shook his head but didn’t try to push him off again. He didn’t know why Davey’s behavior made him nervous. No one paid any attention to them, and Elliot and Cristiano were being far more couple-y. Maybe he was still a little ticked Davey had blabbed right after promising he wouldn’t say anything. Maybe it was all those old insecurities creeping up on him. He couldn’t seem to shake his fear that someone would judge him, no matter how hard he tried.

  “I think it’s a shit double standard,” Davey said. “Girls can cuddle and goof off, and no one thinks anything of it. Men are too uptight.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Not maybe, really.” Davey looked down, plucking his t-shirt. “But once you’ve stuck your dick in me, Zane, you’re not allowed to use the ‘it looks gay’ card with me anymore.”

  “Noted.”

  Zane finished off Davey’s beer. Cristiano and Elliot were laughing about something. Them, probably. After a few minutes, Davey sat up and turned so he faced Zane, looking him in the eye.

  “You wanna?” Davey asked.

  Zane stared at him. Davey’s long, dark lashes cast shadows on his cheeks in the flickering light.

  “Wanna…what?” Zane asked.

  “What we were talking about earlier.”

  Zane frowned in confusion. He wondered if he was talking about lubrication.

  Davey rolled his eyes. “Rimming? Now that you brought it up, you’ve got me wanting it.”

  Zane sputtered, glad he wasn’t drinking the beer anymore. “Huh?”

  “You want me to say it in French?”

  Zane opened and closed his mouth. He could handle the request one of several ways — with indignation, disgust, or humor. He decided to be honest instead.

  “I’ve never done it before,” Zane admitted. “Isn’t it kinda — you know,” he winced, “dirty?”

  Davey smacked him hard on the arm, and Zane yelped.

  “What the hell!” Zane said.

  “That’s for saying I’m dirty!”

  “I didn’t say you were dirty!” Elliot and Cristiano looked their way, and Zane lowered his voice, “Just the act, you know.”

  “I’ll take a shower. I’ll make sure I’m nice and clean. I’ll even use the fruity bath stuff, if it turns you on.”

  Zane rubbed his arm. “But I told you, I’ve never — “

  “Oh, for the love of God.” Davey sat up on his knees, pushing his hair back. “It’s not hard. You lick. You stick your tongue out and lick. Really, it’s not rocket science.”

  “Belligerence and mockery is not the way to get what you want.”

  Davey sighed. Then he leaned forward. His breath ghosted hot and damp against the shell of Zane’s ear as he whispered, “If you do this for me, I’ll suck your cock so hard you�
��ll never want anyone else to blow you again. I’ll even swallow, if you assure me you’re clean. Or you can come on my face, or in my hair. Or both.”

  Zane made a little sound and drew his knees up. His cock told him he needed to learn new things. His brain told him Davey would only bring trouble into his life. He already had. His cock told his brain to shut up or be lobotomized.

  Davey drew back, darting his tongue out to wet his lips so they shone in the firelight. His eyes were heavy-lidded.

  “Is that how you get what you want?” Davey asked, voice sultry.

  “Let’s go back to the hotel,” Zane said.

  ***

  While Davey showered, Zane sprawled on the bed — Davey’s bed, as they were in his room. He stared up at the ceiling, waiting for the water to shut off. The last time he’d felt so sexually awkward he’d been fumbling in the backseat of a car with his best friend’s sister. At least she was female. He hoped his father would stay the hell out of the room tonight.

  When Davey came out of the bathroom he wore a robe, his hair wet and tousled on his shoulders.

  “God, I hate beaches,” Davey said. “Sand gets into parts of your body you didn’t even know you had.”

  Davey climbed on the bed and crawled over to Zane. Resting on his knees, Davey gazed levelly at him.

  “You sure you wanna do this?” Davey asked.

  “No. Yes.”

  “Which?”

  “I’m just not sure I’ll like it.”

  “You can stop if you don’t.”

  Zane mulled the offer over. Blowjob blowjob blowjob! his cock yelled, out-screaming his reservations.

  “Are you gonna run and fucking tell Elliot right after?” Zane asked.

  “Only if he pays me.”

  Zane rolled his eyes.

  Davey pushed a strand of wet hair behind his ear. “You don’t have to, you know,” he said. “There’s that one hot Latino guy on the lighting crew. Vasquez, I think his name is. He’s been eyeing me up. He’d probably do it.”

  “Take your robe off,” Zane said testily. “Before I change my mind.”

  Davey smirked, undid the belt, and slid the garment off. His damp skin glistened in the lamp light. He had nice thighs, thick but sleek. His cock hung limp between them. Zane wasn’t hard either, nerves keeping him from responding just yet.